#it uh. spiralled.

[noswordinourlake]

"HOW much time did you spend researching to draw a fanart for the canonically no research fandom?" LOOK,

[tojisun]

i genuinely cant develop this further but simon fucks you so good and so hard and so much (it lasts for many hours) before every mission because hes scared that this is his last time he’ll get to fuck you. it’s all inadvertent when he got you addicted to his cock and his love-making because, to be honest, these sessions are more for him than for you. his grunts and his pleasured rumbles and his dirty talk? theyre not to make you dizzy with pleasure, theyre to make him cum. he gets so lost in his own euphoria that its truly but an added bonus that you cum with him.

he doesn’t tell you this though

[lyss-sketchbox]

Im sad... Pls give me your daily genderbend wriolette art...

I gotchu anon 👍

[hamable]

I hope, however the growing Cassandra plot plays out, that she grows the following and appreciation she deserves. Kristen talks with her cleric Professor about a no one wanting a religion based on uncertainty, but I think that could be massively popular??

Like, a divinity based around the idea that there is no grand plan, nothing is preordained. You are born, you enjoy things, and then you pass on, and what you do with that chunk of time is up to you. No, not all your questions will be answered. How could they be? How comfortable are you with not knowing?

I think a lot of people in Solace would like something like that to pray to and rely on and connect with, even if that connection is “idk either, but I hear you.”

[mymp3]

ideation

[nyanrial]

some colored sketches i did while playing rf3s! :]

[malneurotic]

the corruption / the spiral

[citruscore]

fool me twice...

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

Okay okay I was playing around in the website sit on my phone and this happened idk why but I feel like you should know

???? what am i supposed to be looking at??? i dont see anything new?

[the-lovely-planet-earth]

Am I annoying? /gen /srs

[stevethehairington]

"and you're trembling, but he reaches over and he touches you, like a prayer for which no words exist, and you feel your heart taking root in your body, like you've discovered something you don't even have a name for."

- you are jeff, richard siken

The back of the Winnebago is so quiet. It is so so quiet.

Four rowdy children under the same roof and not a single one of them says a word now. No jokes, no laughter, no bickering. The only sound amongst them all is their shaky inhales and measured exhales as they all marinate in this— this.

The plan that has to work, the uncertainty of what lies ahead. The heavy truth that this may very well be the last time some of them see each other.

Even Robin and her near constant stream of consciousness rambling is silent beside him. The only way he knows she's actually there is when they sail over a pothole and her shoulder bumps into his.

It's fucking eerie.

The silent knell of a death march — or ride. Whatever.

It makes Eddie's stomach turn.

Eddie is nervous. He's terrified, actually. This is bigger than anything he's ever dealt with in his life before, and he doesn't know how he's made it this far, he really doesn't.

But even more, he doesn't know how everyone else around him is so... calm. Sure, they've all done this before, it's far from their first time, but jesus fucking christ, have they really gotten used to fighting interdimensional monsters that threaten to destroy the world? Does that not scare the absolute bejesus out of them? He doesn't understand how no one else is losing their head about it. How an eleven year old is facing fucking doomsday like its nothing while he quakes in his god damn boots over here.

Eddie tightens his grip on his makeshift spear, knuckles going white. Clenches his jaw so hard he's scared he'll crack a tooth.

He tries not to think about how a cracked tooth is the least of his worries right now. How that actually doesn't even sound all that bad compared to the cracked limbs and cracked jaw and fucking vaporized eyeballs that loom in their futures. In Max's future.

Jesus christ, she's so young. Chrissy was so young. Eddie is so young.

His chest feels tight all of the sudden, his brain fuzzy and unfocused. His vision starts to go a little spotty and he can't breathe, he can't fucking breathe.

He can't fucking lose it, though, he can't. Not here, not now. Not in front of everybody else who's fucking cool as a god damn cucumber.

Eddie squeezes his eyes shut, tries to slow back down. Digs his nails into his palm until the pain of it grounds him. Brings him back.

The fist around his lungs loosens, just enough, as Eddie walks through the breathing exercises Wheeler taught him when he'd nearly lost his marbles last time.

He hasn't even noticed that the Winnebago has stopped moving. Doesn't see that it's all but emptied out. He's the only one left.

Until Steve god damn Harrington slides into the empty space beside him, close enough to touch, and says, "Hey."

Eddie startles, whole body spasming and flinching back until Steve holds up a hand like Eddie's some spooked wild horse and he's trying to ease him back down.

His heart rate slows, but he's still trembling.

Steve reaches out, and his hand curls around Eddie's wrist, thumb coming to rest just over his pulse point. His hand looks rough, still scraped to hell, covered in dirt and blood and dried bat sludge, but his touch is soft. Gentle.

Despite that, it's still solid. Grounding in a way that Eddie needs.

Eddie looks over, because how could he not, and Steve's... he's already looking back. His eyebrows are drawn together in concern, his mouth pursed, like he wants to say more, but chooses not to.

He looks so... he looks so.

And Eddie feels this, this thing expanding in his chest, looking into those glossy eyes, and it's— it almost feels like, like hope or something equally as ridiculous.

It makes him want to laugh, because who the hell could hope in a time like this?

This situation? It's fucking dire. And their plan? It's built on assumptions and fucking faith.

Someone isn't going to make it. That's just how these things work. Eddie's run enough campaigns with storylines just like this one to know the bitter truth of it. There are too many of them, too many moving parts, too many unpredictables. The odds are just not fucking on their side.

(And he has this terrible, horrible feeling, this rock solid pit, in the bottom of his gut, that it's going to be him.

He's the least experienced here, after all, and he's the most likely to freeze in the face of danger.

If someone's going to die today, it's going to be him.)

It's a fact that Eddie has resigned himself to. He's— he hasn't accepted it, per se, but he's acknowledged it. Has started to let it set into his bones.

It doesn't feel real. But it doesn't not feel real either.

He doesn't know what to feel anymore, really.

But Steve, with his big eyes, and his sturdy hands, and his reassuring touch — he feels a lot like hope, like something better than hope.

Something that Eddie can't quite put his finger on, but it seizes his chest in a whole new way.

Eddie wants to chase that feeling.

Wants to let himself believe.

(He knows he shouldn't.)

(Lying in the dirt and a pool of his own blood four hours later, he's glad he didn't.)

[notbecauseofvictories]

paige and hayward are having SO many crises both together and separately. hayward has 191493041 different things he deliberately refuses to think about or deal with at a given moment. paige is quickly alienating everyone who isn't dan (she wouldn't mind, but dan doesn't listen to her enough to be alienated) and hungover most of the time. she speaks mostly in poetry, especially when she's not paying attention; hayward goes silent and twitchy sometimes, washes his hands with water they can't spare until his cuticles bleed. items have been thrown. they are the only ones they can really trust. sometimes paige can't even look at him. I bet the sex is great and everyone involved categorically refuses to talk about it.

[krussyarts]

I'm gonna throw up my brain is so full of these two

[did-you-know-you-have-rights]

Saw Apprentices Mandated Matching T-Shirts

Bonus:

(Obviously John is Kramer in this Seinfeld AU)

[brainworms-all-night-long]

That ^ and the tags is the only context you're getting

[2,354 words]

---

His ear twitched towards the door, caught by a soft scratch and a clicking sound. Afterwards, the doors slowly cracked open to reveal more darkness, but a small silhouette of a fox was visible amidst it anyway.

Panicked, Nine turned his face towards the wall so fast his neck pricked with pain. Then he haphazardly wiped away the tears and bit down any future sobs threatening to rip through his throat.

Perhaps an over-the-top reaction that only justified the one at the door to step in through.

"Hurt?"

There was only one fox in particular that a raspy and audibly unused voice could belong to, and Nine wasn't sure if it made him relaxed or more distressed.

But besides that, he felt tired and defeated, as such, he unceremoniously collapsed onto the bed.

"Not...physically." But he wasn't sure how truthful that answer was. There sure was a particular headache he hadn't felt in years that was bound to get worse by the morning, his sinuses felt painfully stuffy and there were still leftover muscle cramps from... well, the reason he started crying in the first place.

Nine only barely registers the soft falling footsteps of the other before the mattress underneath him shifted and he snaps just the tiniest bit, happy that the mess of unfamiliar and vulnerable emotions was at least briefly overtaken by comforting anger.

He shoots a glare at the other.

"Why- how did you even get in here? Shouldn't you be sleeping?" He hisses out as he sits back up.

Nothing is sacred to Mangey as he definitely just picked his lock, because the one and only key was hidden in the pocket of Nine's current pants. Dunce hat on him for thinking a store-bought lock would keep any of the workshop's inhabitants out, but they could at least respect the purpose of it!

"Hurt." Mangey simply whispers again and points at Nine.

"It's none of your business."

Pulling his knees to his chest, he then hides his face in them, safely wiping all of the leftover tears into the fabric of his pants. A pathetic display, but he felt it was the lesser of two evils as he definitely didn't favor being openly seen crying.

And It really wasn't. There was no reason for Mangey of all people to care or try to play a therapist with him. (Or ridicule him later, but Mangey hasn't struck him as someone reveling in others' pain. But then again Nine wouldn't blame him) There was nothing he could do but make everything worse actually.

All of Nine's muscles tensed up even more somehow as a feew more tears stained the pants' knees.

And that's all he felt; a painful sting in his eyes and the threat of his chest caving in on itself. He was getting tired of it, yet he couldn't relax if you put a tazer to his head. Bad allegory actually, that would in fact make him 100% more stressed.

What temporarily shook him back to his senses however was the mattress suddenly changing volume under him again and hearing Mangey springing to his feet, following his nose to somewhere around the work table's area.

Nine lifted his head just a bit and narrowed his gaze.

What could he be snooping around there for.

Nine tried to call him out, but couldn't find his voice in time before Mangey was already rummaging through a box that used to be very carefully hidden in a secret compartment Nine made under the table to hide his more precious items, like mints.

After Mangey definitely found what he was looking for, he closed the compartment as if it never been there in the first place. Then he hopped up from beneath the table, stopping right in front of Nine.

"Hungry." Mangey stated flatly as he grabbed onto Nine's hand, who, as confused and done as he was, didn't put up much resistance and let Mangey drop a single blue candy onto his palm.

The kit hopped back onto the bed next to him happily and began unwrapping his own piece of mint that has been stolen from right under his nose.

Nine guessed he really was hungry, but eating a stupid piece of candy sure as hell wouldn't fix half a day of starving.

"Candy is not exactly known f-for its nutritional values y'know." Somehow he managed to choke out and what was meant to be an apathetic remark was stained with emotion. He really wished he stayed silent instead.

But there was no reaction from Mangey whatsoever, so after letting the wave of embarrassment wash over him, Nine went back to staring at the single piece of mint sitting innocently in the palm of his hand.

The white lines on the wrapping blended with his glove until all of the colors blurred together when his eyes welled up with tears again.

He wasn't even sure why, he usually had a reason to cry, and even then, he dared to let the tears spill only when he was sure there was no one around.

Thoughts with no beginning or end swirled in his head and frustration bubbled in his chest while he felt stuck in his own body.

He wasn't alone, so why the fuck was he crying over a stupid piece of candy.

He was sure it wasn't the candy itself that brought him to tears again but he didn't want to unwrap all that.

The ever-pleasant internal voice expressed just a fraction of the disarray he felt, until he almost threw the sweet through the ceiling when something suddenly touched his arm.

Still getting lost in and out of his head and between the real world, he keeps forgetting that Mangey is there. The other fox was now leaning on his shoulder, not paying him direct attention though.

Nine wasn't sure what it was but among the confusing and unpleasant concoction of emotions, he grasped the tiniest sliver of irritation he could find again.

Mangey had the whole rest of the bed to lean on, why come bothering him? Nine doubted it was in any sense comfortable either, especially when he was barely touching him at first. But that tiny bead of more than welcome negative emotion fizzled out just as fast as it came.

He gave up on trying to figure out the enigma that was the little feral fox beside him.

A few more stray tears fell into his lap that he didn't even bother paying attention to, before he practically forced himself to open the candy wrapper and plopped its contents Into his mouth.

Some sense of calm washed over him after the fact. It was barely tangible but it was there, and he figured he knew who to thank for that.

But his back was getting tired from sitting upright for so long, he found that he was generaly more tired than ussuala lately. Nine leaned forward and supported his weight by grabbing the edge of the bed as he let Mangey shift closer to his side.

With the cooling taste of the mint numbing the insides of his mouth and warm presence of another living being leaning onto him, he finally had an anchor point to hold on to and get his emotions in check.

The nigh-toxic sweetness of the candy glued his mouth together, which made talking feel both like a challenge and an achievement.

"Is anyone...did I wake anyone else up?" He finally asked, breaking the silence and addressing the most likely reason for the other fox breaking into his room in the first place.

Meanwhile, Mangey made a noise of disagreement but quickly shrugged afterward.

"I suppose the other two wouldn't just ignore an opportunity to make fun of me in this state huh." Wishful thinking on Nine's part. As much Tails and Sails- and sometimes Sonic honestly, do not forget or forgive once they're out for blood, he knew if they saw him now they would only relentlessly baby him and not let up until he told them what's wrong instead (he wonders that at this point too.) All of which would somehow make him feel worse than being picked on.

Letting out a sigh, he leaned forward even further and crossed his arms over his legs. The sudden shift in support caused Mangey, who did not expect it, to almost fall over. So after letting out a yelp, he threw his legs over the bed and scooted on it fully, leaning back to back with the other.

Nine moved his tails out of the way in the meantime, as having someone sit on them wouldn't be the most comfortable of things.

He suddenly became all too aware of how baren he was.

Finally tearing his gaze from the floor he just realized he was intensely staring at, he looked over the seven mechanical tails lying neatly placed on the table in front of him. He felt that sleeping with them wasn't necessary anymore, and it was much more comfortable when he could freely roll over without the restriction of metal around him.

Besides, no one was supposed to get in his room while it was locked, but someone probably saw it only as a fun puzzle in his way.

Nine narrowed his gaze yet again and looked back at the intruder fox. And while he couldn't hope to see his face, those restless paws of his were nervously fidgeting with the fur on the tip of one of his own double tails, while the other appendage lay neatly placed near his side.

Yea, there was no way in hell to stay angry at Mangey for longer than two minutes.

Returning to stare at nothing, Nine spaced out in the darkness of the room.

But this time, he focused on the warmth pressing against his back, the quiet breathing and heartbeat that reverberated from his chest and bounced off the walls...

And then there was another rumble added to the mix. One that he figured should be quite familiar to him, but never actually heard or produced himself in his life. Plus he doubted he'd be able to purr if he tried it himself anyway.

Even still, it helped him finally relax and unclench most if not all of his strained muscles.

The one thing Nine could always be glad for was Mangey's silence. Despite lacking words, the fox managed to say so much and so loudly with undoubted honesty by his actions and presence alone. (Not to confuse lack of deceit with no sass or attitude mind you.)

And that was more than enough for Nine.

Enough to make him feel more like himself again after..whatever the hell these past three hours were. Scratch that, past these– however long was it since he met Sonic.

Nine let a small smile sit in the corners of his mouth. "Thanks." He softly whispered and despite how barely audible it was, Mangey definitely heard it as he could feel the other fully relax against his back as well and let out a quiet hum.

Nine turned the half-dissolved mint around in his mouth when loud (compared to the drowning silence of the room) cracking, that made Nine's teeth hurt in relation, filled the room.

Mangey bit through the goddamn candy.

Surprised he waited up until now actually, Nine glanced back at the other through the corner of his eye.

"Are your teeth made of steel or what?" A rhetorical question that has been asked multiple times by every possible person who had the honor of giving Mangey any food with a denser consistency, and one that got an appropriate mocking scoff as a response.

Doing a doubletake, Nine noticed a much more glaring issue the other fox brought with him though.

"You- you're seriously laying on my bed with your shoes on?" He directed more of his attention towards Mangey and pointed an accusatory finger at him.

"You run on with those outside all day and then proceed to hop into a bed — my bed — with all that dirt and whatever else is you jump around on all day." He could feel the other tense up again, realizing too late he forgot to add the appropriate amount of sarcasm to his tone to make sure Mangey knew he wasn't actually mad at him, just slightly petty annoyed if that made sense.

Why did he suddenly care about that?

"Don't you act all innocent, take 'em off."

Nine poked him with his elbow gently and with all the affection he could muster in his exhausted state.

The other fox simply grumbled in response and kicked off his shoes to the ground at the opposite side of the bed — which were sure to have woken up someone with their unnecessarily loud thud upon hitting the floor — but not before rolling his eyes.

"...un-be-li-vable." Nine fully surrendered his weight onto the other, and this time making sure the overexaggerated annoyance and headshake were enough of a signal he wasn't all that serious.

His eyes felt sleepy heaviness on them as he caught the dimly lit time of a digital clock sitting on a shelf above the table

4:28 AM

Or maybe the last number was six or three, he couldn't really tell. What it conveyed however was that the previous estimate of three hours of spiraling was incorrect and he rather not think about how much more it would've been had Mangey not invited himself in. In fact, he'd rather not think about anything anymore.

The arbitrary decision on whether to give up tonight's sleep and just continue on into the next day until a sudden and inevitable collapse wasn't given. The soft snores of the one behind him and a tail that wasn't his own that could've easily been classified as a blanket of pure fluff that somehow found his way into his lap didn't give the option.

The amount of his much-needed rest was in the hands of the most skittish, energetic and unpredictable fox one could've left it in, and for some reason Nine was just fine with that.

[welcometogrouchland]

if you're asking for drawing requests, maybe Willow in her timeskip look or Luz with the Collector??

[ID: a digital illustration of Luz (in her titan form from watching and dreaming) and The Collector. Luz stands on a small hill of red grass, waving at The Collector, who's off-screen but depicted to the audience as a closeup inside a star shaped panel. Luz is waving at the off-screen Collector with a smile, while The Collector smiles tearfully at her. Small uncoloured doodles of Eda and King are depicted waving at the collector in the background. End ID]

This was meant to be a doodle anon but unfortunately I went off the shits. Anyway, collector sees Luz post-resurrection and cries big gross happy tears bc he's so happy she's alive