#the spike doodle is just perfect

[alfapratt]

BUFFY THE VAMPIRE SLAYER | The Lost Summer

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[sluckythewizard]

THEY could give me the surgurey i need (inspired alot by evojellys designs for em. GREAT STUFF)

[daily-smol-silm]

Day #55 - More Goth designs

Some bugs I found C:

[kawkawsrii]

Bruh imagine being ninja president and using secret service to send raunchy pics to ur bf LMFAO

Small unserious doodle bc I thought about Obito’s reaction and was split on a 50/50 of him being annoyed and him blushing, and I thought blushing Obito was cuter so here we are haha. (I also needed more post-war obkk…) In my head, Obito keeps his rinnegan closed usually (in my fic he wears an eyepatch but I thought it’d be a bit jarring here so I had him just close his eye). Big respect to people who actually draw/make comics, fandom or otherwise bc OMG I was stressing, screaming, crying, throwing up while drawing this (so it’s not as polished bc I decided to give up on perfection and leave it as a sketch), much love 💕💕💕

P.S. I like the trope where when like an anime character blushes their hair like spikes up or like sorta gets flowy so I tried to include that here w/ little success :(

[cowgirlcherrie]

STARTEAM ˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ volleyball! loser! ellie drabble

a/n: there is no plot for this it’s just a thought I haven’t been able to shake since seeing the amazing volleyball! ellie art by @caspervi ♡♡

volleyball! ellie art. support their work here!

update: also just realized @elliespeach has a wonderful volleyball! ellie fic and basically kickstarted the idea so support their work here too !!

content: 18+ MDNI, sexual themes, lowk saliva play if u squint bro, fem! water girl! reader

— song(s): STARTEAM by lastclass & byelilfly

Ellie was in timeout. 

Well not literally, but being benched felt like she was. Suddenly she was 5 again and her teacher was moving her card to red, for her indecent behavior. Ellie wanted to whine, she wanted to fight back – bitch and moan. She had been putting in the work! Up in the gymnasium at the crevice of the glowing somber night to practice her bumping and setting; perfecting her spikes and it seemed as if she would never get to reach tranquility. She couldn’t be an ace, she couldn’t beat her opponents. 

She was drenched in sweat head-to-toe —  the fabric of her jersey sticking to her chest like glue. Beads of fresh sweat dripped down her forehead as she licked her dehydrated lips. She needed to breathe. But Ellie didn’t know breath control. She didn’t know stopping either, her routine was damaged, she was jaded and her brain was fuzzy the plays didn’t even make sense to her. Her brain was insanely flawed.  Nothing but incoherent doodles as her coach yelled in her face to take 5. 

All she knew was routine:

Wake up at 5 am. Go for a run at 7 am. Nutritious breakfast at 9 am. Practice 10-4 pm. A quick nap and muscle soak before a game.

All her hard work burned into ashes; eventually to dust and crumbs as it became nothing but a false sense of dedication. Sleepless nights and aching muscles just to be benched. Ellie was incandescent. Her eyebrows furrowed, cheeks a pulsing red – like clown makeup from the intensity. Her blood cells flowed healthily and her heartbeat was in the root of her ears like the pulsing of the music that kept her going.  While some may say a body is a temple; her’s was a ticking time bomb ready to go off in any second. 

Ellie couldn’t keep her eyes open, the sound of sneakers against the freshly polished floors made her eardrums bleed, similar to scraping a metal ruler against a school board. 

Dropping her head as she looked down at her legs. Her thighs were drenched in sweat the shin guards cutting off any circulation, making her thighs look wonderfully plump and 10x more muscular. Ellie was becoming hyper-aware until a sudden tap on her back and a sweet toothache-inducing smell filled her nostrils. 

It was you.

The water girl, her hero. Just the right person to fix her cravings. A thin white ridged paper cup in your hand with water filled to the brim as you held it out in front of you with a gentle smile. Ellie always thought your sweetness was ravishing. She thought her teammates were undeserving of such pleasure and authenticity from you. The other girls would dim your light – and by dimming it she meant flirting with you. Calling you sweetheart and asking to take you out to dinner which was followed by your rich voice telling them, “It’s unprofessional!” but she was too bashful to admit it; she wanted to do it too. 

The word baby could not escape her lips without being immediately flustered by it, Ellie was too smitten and starstruck by you. Quiet and lightly spoken, hell she was called ‘Bitchless 7 Williams’ for a reason. Stuttering over her words, hands shakier than ever, her affection becoming aggression she wanted nothing more than to drag herself out. She wishes she could be more flirty, more outspoken; then just maybe she would have been lucky to snag you, her water girl. 

You knew she could get down, she palpably could get rough with the right motivation. It was the way her anger transcended on the court, you were sure it would manifest in other places too. But part of you loved it, it turned you on, when you were alone at night, entangled in your duvet as you wondered what she would look like calling out your name. She was a fucking loser, a pathetic whiney player that still took the fall.

Initially, you thought you were sweeter; more gentle but Ellie was more bashful than you. She wasn’t like her teammates. Ellie didn’t make eye contact with you at all or call you names. She did, however, stare at your boobs for too long through your tightly fitting workout jacket that hugged every crevice of your body just right. Giving your boobs an extra push. It was perverted, but you caught her every time. Coincidentally that’s what got you hooked on her. You weren’t going to stop her. 

Like a hound dog you could smell what she wanted, you never failed to see the drool finally dripping from her tongue that she masked by bringing up her cup with great speed as the stretchy saliva dripped down the edge of her fingers and her cup. You did notice how she would leave a sticky residue; her clear fluids all over the cup before handing it back to you. Running off right before you can get a word in.

“Hope you’re thirsty It took me hooours to pour this” you teased, holding out the cup towards Ellie with a smile. That soft grin of yours that easily made anyone swoon on you. Ellie caught herself doing it again. In a room with so many people, her team, friends, and family, she sent a quick look at your boobs before looking back at the sparkles in your eyes. Like diamonds and pearls; vibrant and warm. Lewd thoughts raced in her brain like gnats. 

She was giving you teeth, as she took her shirt up; again, to wipe her forehead clear of the everflowing liquid. 

“Oh yeah,” Ellie taunted back, with a smirk on her face. She wasn’t sure where this confidence was coming from, so she reached out to take the cup from you. Bringing the cup up to her lips as she tilted her head back, taking large gulps of the water not breaking eye contact with you. You saw the string of saliva again as she dropped the cup from her lips, taking a soft breath. 

“More . . .” Her voice was breathy as if she ran a mile. 

“More what?”

“More water…please?” Ellie pleaded, she spoke fast and in a whisper shaking the empty cup as she handed it back to you.

“Sure thing Els,” You confirmed taking the cup from her hands feeling the sudden dampness of her drool around the cup. Almost damaging to the deteriorating paper. “You got something here”

You pointed to your own chin with your pointer finger, as Ellie quickly rushed a hand up to wipe off any excess liquid with the back of her hands, fingertips covered in bandaids. 

“Sorry,” it was a quiet whisper. 

You turned to the back this time giving Ellie a full view of the way you looked in the short shorts — that were almost as tight as your top. Ellie had to look away. Almost as if she were being under surveillance, she had to behave; control her wandering eyes that betrayed her more than often.

Just as you were about to give Ellie the cup again, a shout from her coach filled the spacey gymnasium. With that simple shout, Ellie became a machine. Lifting her legs up forgetting about her water request and rushed back onto the court. If she was so lucky to have the chance, she’ll fetch the water from you later. Hopefully with a reward on her back. 

Williams! Back on the court! Let’s try it again #7 Hustle! 

[donutdrawsthings]

The Macra Redesigned!

Doodle and design ramble below

For some reason i always associate The Macra Terror with a pink/teal colour scheme, so I definitely wanted to apply that to my design!

I took a bunch of inspirations from real crabs of course, with many thanks to my good friend Satsuma for recommending some species!

The yeti crab is obviously the inspiration for the furry arms. Having yeti crab inspirations felt perfect for a 2nd doctor era monster, since they're already familiar with another type of yeti!

I took inspo from the king crab for all the spikes. I would've loved to add more spikes but I feel like the design would've become too cluttered...

This little guy recommended by my friend was a big inspiration for a more flat face and all the stripes!

I took inspiration from the coconut crab's posture and legs. I love the way it carries its heavy body on land, especially with how it positions its claws. It's just really neat to me!

And them the flying saucer as inspiration was obviously for the see-through dome. I liked the idea of the macra being rather vulnerable in the sense that their organs are on display through that little dome window. Which is why they've grown to get clever and manipulate the colony >:o)

[lenny-link]

Hey, I've been ombsessed with your AU so I drew an engiespy fusion concept, Turquoise!

Still a sketch but I already wanted you to see it :)

Also more doodles

God this is literally perfect ??? Its soo much better than what i had in mind for engiespy !!!

Bro the helmet, the tiny spike on the back of the helmet, the goggles, the mask, the cigarette, the arms, the BOOTS !!!!!! I LOVE THE BOOTS !!!

PERFECTION !!! 💥💥

I literally have no comments its just this good ??!?!?!!! Im really glad i could help you with the color palette you really made it look very harmonious !!!!

(tiny note: its just that blu spy is a sapphire, red spy is ruby, i know their outfits are based on topaz thats on me lol besides that its JUST AWESOME!!)

[themeeplord]

So, last cryptid post you mentioned how ya boys kept growing..

At this point, Meep, just go ahead and make them Monster Hunter elder dragon sized, you know you want to c:

This took way too long and sorry for being so cryptic about it ^^’, but now ya know why I so suddenly gained an interest in MH :>

Might post just the lineart of the design later for an unshrouded look, tho I know some things could be played around with more (proportion wise) to hit home that MH creature feel, but I’m no expert and you’re probably more familiar with that anyway <3 also they’re your boys and the design already lends itself handsomely to the MH-iffication ^^

Also also, a little Bonus doodle ;)

Kinda falling in love with the whole idea as a possible au. A familiar, albeit slightly different hunter and monster/quarry dynamic, ey? But again, your boys, ain’t gonna step on your toes.

Hope you’re having a lovely day! <333

P.S. I’m very sorry to interrupt the Apex Polarity brainrot, I’ll be following soon ^^'

I'm going absolutely INSANE over this!! PIIXEL!!! I'M BITING THIS AND YOU SO HARD RN!!!!

I loooove the Nergigante inspired horns and how every scale, horn and spike are just so much BIGGER! It all comes together so well! Love how you drew their face as well, everything is more defined and their huge bottom canines are just MWAH!

I can't look away from those beautifully drawn HANDS!! LOOK AT THE ONES ON THE GROUND AND ON THE ROCK BEHIND THEM!! THEY'RE SO PERFECT!!!!!

And the lighting?! GOSH!!!!

I also am just in love with the concept of them being an elder dragon! Honestly they could definitely be one. Elder dragons are so diverse and weird looking so one looking like this wouldn't be so strange at all! Also the hunter and monster dynamic here is so intriguing! If you'll let me, I'd like to explore this a little more~

Thank you Piixel! I'm just completely melted over this, I'm just a puddle, I love it so much! AAAAAA!!!!

[hobie-enthusiast]

LITTLE CREATIONS !

— ‘Omgg if you're down and it spikes your creativity!! Could I request a Hobie little writing with a gn!reader who likes doodling on stick papers and sticking them on Hobie's guitar when he isn't looking? And one day he catches them red-handed? Just plain fluff tbh <33’

— hobie brown x gn!reader

— lots of fluff, just cute relationship stuff, some cutesy hc’s at the end too

— hobie knew where the mysterious stickers were coming from, but he just never wanted to stop it

— this is adorable oh my god. im such a sucker for cutesy relationship stuff. the creativity just flowed for this so well (directly reuploaded from my old acc @/hobieenthusiast)

Hobie was very attentive to the things he loved.

He was possessive over those things. You were a perfect example. Now that he has you, he never wants to let you go. His friends are another example. The Spider-people he’s grown to enjoy were something he would never trade.

His guitar was yet one more example of Hobie’s possessive nature.

He never truly allowed anyone to touch it. His instrument was what he used to make art. He’s had it since he was a young teen, the paint was chipping and many stickers he’s created or been gifted littered the body.

So he obviously noticed when new stickers started showing up.

The first creation he noticed was a small night sky, with star constellations being the focus. The constellations were Pleiades and Taurus, thought Hobie couldn’t name them off the top of his head. It was charmingly drawn, and stuck right underneath the strings.

He had his suspicions of you drawing it the first time he noticed it. He knew you liked to doodle in a small notebook, so you were his first thought.

The next one after that was a spiked butterfly. The butterfly had some out-of-the-lines green colouring, with spikes coming from the wings. It was a really nice drawing that Hobie appreciated, and was yet another sign it was drawn by you.

After that, he found some stickers of his favourite band logos, little star sketches, his logo as spider-man, and so many more. All those building up and covering the original colour and decal of the guitar.

Hobie didn’t mind the drawings. Actually, it was quite the opposite. He looked forward to seeing what you were gonna create next.

Whenever he’s over at your place, he’ll purposefully leave the room for a little to give you time to stick them. He notices your silly grin when he comes back, at his cluelessness when he takes his guitar home.

Little did you know.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Hobie sat on your bed, strumming mindlessly on his guitar. You sat over at your desk as you sketched and doodled on some stick paper. Music played in the background softly, a mixture of your faves and Hobie’s as well.

Hobie sighs, placing his guitar at the end of the bed. “‘m gonna go grab a drink.”

You nod as he passes, ruffling your hair as he leaves the room. You glance over to see if he left before smiling softly, standing and walking to his guitar.

Carefully, you peel your doodles from the sticker sheet, finding open spaces to place them on. These new ones were of his cross logo on the back of his Spider-man jacket, as well as a small spider hanging on a web. They were coloured with blue and red splotches in the background.

You put the first one on, admiring how it fits so well with the others. Like a puzzle piece. You reach for the second one, ready to stick it on, when..

“Well well. Seems ’ve caught the culprit.”

You turn around, sticker still in hand as you laugh nervously. “And here I thought I had more time.”

Hobie gives his signature smirk as he walks to you, taking the sticker from your hand. He observes it, noticing the beautiful red and blue splotches behind the spider.

“Sorry if you haven’t liked ‘em.” You say as he stands there, still observing. “You never really said much about them so I assumed you didn’t mind and that it was okay but if it’s not I can always stop and-”

Hobie chuckles, stopping you. “[Name]. Never said I didn’t like ‘em, aye? Actually quite like ‘em.”

“Really?”

Hobie nods as he places the sticker on his guitar, smoothing it out. It blends well with the others, bringing yet more charm to the cluster and disorganized mess. Something Hobie absolutely enjoys.

“Why don’t you tell me about ‘em?” He asks while sitting back on the bed. “Been curious ‘bout the constellations for ‘while now.”

“The constellations..” You start, tracing the design on his guitar. “They were in the air March 18th and April 24th. Pleiades and Taurus.”

Hobie’s eyes widen for a moment. “Well now that’s..”

“Our first date.” You finish with a soft smile. You glance up at him. “And the day we became official. Or the day you decided you like some labels.”

Hobie rolls his eyes. “An’ that’s a secret ‘tween you and me.”

You continue to tell him about the different doodles you drew. You explained the thought process behind them all, going into the colour schemes and why you chose those specifically.

The entire time Hobie couldn’t take his eyes off of you. He thought you were mesmerizing, the way you talked about something so passionately.

“…and with the letters I tried capturing how rebellious it’s supposed to look, kind of like your jacket.” You finish, pointing the last one out.

Hobie nods, hand taking yours. “They’re all well done. Ya gotta keep makin’ ‘em.”

You smile and nod excitedly, already thinking of the next designs you have for Hobie’s guitar.

Maybe Hobie’s earlier rule about never letting anyone touch his guitar had its exceptions. After all, rules were always meant to be broken in his eyes.

— after he confirms that it’s you putting the stickers on, he insists on watching you draw them

— you’ll sit on his lap and aimlessly doodle in your stick paper notebook as you lean back against his chest

— you ask for his opinion, but he always assures you they look perfect

— “that one ‘s well drawn, sweetheart”

— “you’re so talented, darlin’”

— “can’t wait for everyone to see ‘em”

— he’s practically your biggest supporter

— also don’t be surprised if one day he gets one of the doodles you stuck on his guitar tattooed on him

— what can he say? he’s obsessed with anything you give him

— he will also let everyone know who the amazing artist behind his stickers are

— “yeah? my amazin’ partner drew ‘em. they’re one of a kind”

— hobie will always anticipate new stickers from you, even after his guitar is filled

— please just start stacking them after that

— hobie’s completely obsessed with you and any reminder of you on his weapon of art is something to die for in his eyes

[kairiscorner]

(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)

man... he's so annoying. and yet, so fucking dreamy.

summary: you were lauded as the only serious junior in the entire spider society. you did your work and loved doing it, you made no exceptions for any rules, not even for yourself. you loved order and civility, you fought hard in your universe to earn it, and you believed you deserved it here in the spider society and tried your hardest to uphold it. but when he showed up... you were gonna have a problem.

word count: 1,222 (crazy)

a/n: might be part 1 of something, or a oneshot, who knows !

you loved being a spider person, though of course, you'd never show it. you were looked up to by anyone who was anyone, everyone wanted to be like you. you upholded the law and ideals of society as a spider person, who'd've thought for your city to be civilized, all they needed was a spider-themed hero and they'd all bow down and listen?

it was because of your amazing abilities, tireless determination to serve and protect the people of your hometown that you were sought out by the spider society and became one of theirs. and you were the damn best at it. you found a new pleasure and hobby in beating up bad guys, being spotted over roofs of abandoned buildings, being pointed and gasped at by onlooker civilians, and saving the day as a friendly neighborhood spider person.

life was great like this, it followed one, linear path that everyone else did. it was the perfect pastime, the perfect job for you. you made a few friends and got along real well with jess and peter b, you had dibs on being jess' kid's mentor when it'd be born, and mayday absolutely loved you. you were peter b's go-to for a babysitter if he had to leave for a mission or go on a date night with mj. you were a trusted kid at the spider society, the adults had never met a kid as serious, responsible, and hard-working as you.

it was pure bliss, being part of the spider society.

until he showed up.

the moment he came in, you swore you heard a loud electric guitar strum reverberate throughout the halls. you felt the vibrations of it in every bone and muscle of your body, this guy couldn't have bothered you any worse. you groaned at the noise, asking others around you who that was. they shrugged, must've been some newbie, not that you cared, you just hoped they'd keep it down.

you cared for order and civility, and you found that in the spider society. despite there being some rogue ones and rebellious folks, you found yourself getting along with most of them. but you had a feeling that this newbie who made himself known through his flashy one note show might get on your nerves a little if he keeps that behavior consistent, but you digressed.

as you went over to the lobby to see what all the fuss was about, you soon heard another ear-piercing noise. it wasn't just one note that was playing now, it was a whole metal song. to make matters worse, some drummer girl joined him in, contributing to the noise.

"who the hell?" you asked yourself as you spotted a spiked spider man masked person with a black leather vest, buttons and pins adorning the lapels of it, with dark spider-doodled pants and long black boots with mismatched laces, yellow on the right and blue on the left. his mask had what appeared to be a runny look to it, the lenses of their mask ran down a little by the ends. their entire apparel screamed anarchy and chaos. and you loathed it.

"who's ready to overthrow an oppressive regime with me? an oppresive regime of boredom in this whole building!" the newbie's voice exclaimed. it was deep, yet smooth; it had a fluidity to it, almost as if he could say anything, and one would immediately listen, no questions asked. soon, everyone around you who was watching was buzzing as the guy played a loud metal song for all to hear. many were cheering for him and encouraging him to keep playing, but you soon noticed many of these people were on patrol duty. and many of them looked like they were more invested in this nutcase's impromptu performance over work, work that saves the multiverse, you thought as you reminded yourself.

"okay, people, this is cool and all, but we have work to do." you said as you tried to get the onlookers near you to listen to you, but it was for naught. none of them heard you over the incessant cheering, howling, and music in the air. you huffed as you shook your head, put your mask on, and swung over to the makeshift stage they had that was made of wooden crates and cardboard boxes laying around.

as the guy was strumming away on his electric guitar, showing no signs of giving out, you took the mic away. "okay, this was a good show and all, but we have work to do." you announced yet again, which earned the groaning and disappointment of a lot of people.

"yeah, yeah, groan as much as you want, that won't stop mr. o'hara from freaking out at us the minute he comes back and sees this whole... gathering." you say, trying to quell the audience's thirst for more excitement.

"well, aren't you a prissy one?" asked the newbie with a hint of sarcasm in his tone. you rolled your eyes. "what you did just hindered a whole lot of people from their responsibilities here, newbie." you told him in a stern voice as you frowned at him, expecting him to be mature about this if he was recruited as a spider man.

he laughed as he thanked the drummer girl for her performance as she was packing up to leave, and turned to look back at you with a smirk from underneath his mask. "you're real cute for that, upholding orders from higher-ups you so badly want to please. that's not being a spider person, though. more like being... an obedient little dog." he teased as he bent over a little to look you in the eye.

up close, he was much, much taller than you, much bigger in nearly ever aspect. you gulped a little, but your frown and angry expression remained. "say what you want, my judgement stands. i'm also more experienced than you here, so if you want to survive, you listen to me." you whispered as he leaned in closer to you, smirk widening.

he took off the mask, and you were surprised to see just how many piercings he had, you didn't even have any piercings for earrings at the bottom of your ears, yet he had... so many. he grinned at you as he ran a hand through his thick hair in wicks. "i think i can manage on my own, little doggy." he teased as he ruffled your hair and chuckled a low chuckle.

"i mean it though, it's cute. if you wanna be more than just a little dog for the higher-ups, though... you'll know where to find me." he said with a wink as he put the mask back on and swung away.

you were left alone now, thinking about who you just met. he was, of course, rebellious and disorderly, everything you weren't aspired never to become. you knew nothing good came out of a discordant lifestyle like his, no matter how little you knew of him, you knew one thing.

"man, he's so annoying..." you complained aloud as you took the mic and hopped off the makeshift stage, ready to clean it up before the adults got back. 'and yet, so... dreamy.'

oh dear, looks like he's gonna be quite the pain in the ass for you.

lmk if i should keep this going babes, i loved this idea sm, thank you to my friend on the dc server for the idea :DD

tags !! @thecoolerdor @miguelswifey04 @pixqlsin @k4tsu3 @nokkihy @fictarian @bivivivii

[oceanlipgloss]

POTION

RAFAYEL.

+ about: one summer noon, Rafayel becomes an unwilling part of the cat population. I did him dirty; can he can get an F in the chat?

+ warnings: humour slaughterhouse aka very, very lame jokes (crack is the foundation, fluff is the cement)

What a diabolical creature.

Huge eyeballs, bigger than jellyfish. Staring at him. The eyes of a serial killer or a netherworld monster. Pointy ears, sharper than traffic cones. Eavesdropping on every sound. Gnashing teeth, the ugliest smile he had ever seen.

And now he, too, looked like that.

A creepy cat.

The tiny doodle watched him from its high vantage point on the white wall. Not just a cat, but a smiling cat. Not just a smiling cat, but a demon drawn in black marker. Very hard to ignore.

He could not bear to glance at the mirror. For the first time. Plum fur shot up in spears and spikes, likening him to a downy porcupine.

A glass of soda floated into his thoughts.

Cool droplets flowing down his throat.

Lying down on the floor.

Falling asleep in the summer sun.

Waking up.

A gnarly cat.

Potion.

Somehow, somehow, he had drank a potion, shimmering and clear.

Thirst sure has its perks.

Where had that stuff even come from?

Familiar in flavour—bubbles and lime.

Even as an artist, he thought about how that was all much too surreal. Absolutely wild. Truth be told? A concoction of nightmares combined.

Violet cat. Nice colour palette, but useless paws. Unable to hold a paintbrush. What meaning was there to life now? Would she accept him for he had become?

The insecurities were a terror.

Dramatic as he was—rightfully so, for once—he had screamed at the top of his lungs. The only sound that rang out in the messy studio was the loudest cat noise he had heard to date, however.

A shrill meow.

This had to be some sort of eldritch curse or divine punishment, didn’t it?

The God of all cats was avenging those backstabbing furballs for the endless slander he had subjected them to. It’s all his doing, yeah?

When plagued by anger or fright, cats hiss. Now a wrathful cat himself, he hissed as well.

Familiar hands, scooping him up.

So weird.

Her palms, warm against his sunlit fur, but also much, much bigger. To his newfound bundle of a form, that was too unfamiliar; she had always been shorter, smaller.

No sparkle of surprise.

Was the potion her plan all along? Start location: sinister doodle on the wall.

Nothing made sense.

Actually, naked walking jellyfish, tree-climbing sea turtles, and grass-eating sharks would’ve all been way more credible.

Inspiration!

Facing his reflection wasn’t an option, but he so desperately wanted to make sure this wasn’t a figment of a sick hallucination, so he almost had the urge to say, ‘draw me like one of your French cats’ just to see if he had now really become a member of the world of felines—but his tongue could only muster cat-voice.

Instead, a pop of colour gleamed in his mind.

He wanted her attention, and cats like affection. Why not make use of the situation? Blame it on the catty qualities later.

With shiny eyes he would have liked to ask, ‘would you still love me if I was a cat?’

The perfect answer and just what he was longing for.

Warm fur pressed against her neck. Fingertips tickled a soft stomach. Giggles chimed in pointed ears. Mellow weight on her chest.

So much doting. Her lips kissed the tip of his eraser-pink nose. Compliments poured onto his head like paint in all colours.

He felt really, really hot. Fur, glee, embarrassment.

Cats can’t blush, but in his flustered mind cherry-red mingled with plum-purple on the tips of his ears to gleam like crystal powder.

An unusual picture.

Steady, steady. Her heartbeat was steady. His heart raced into next week. It was worse now, though. Cat hearts double up the speed of human ones. Drowsy with sunlight.

What a long, long day.

One good thing came out of it.

Love. So much love.

Once this nap ends, will he have two legs again?

Summer sunshine would butter his studio pale yellow and bright white by then. He would be sprawled out on the floor, sketches scattered all over. The cat would continue to stare at him from on the wall.

The cat.

Everything was that weird cat’s fault. Those big, evil eyes followed him as he painted, stalking his every movement and creation. He hated it so, yet did not have the heart to erase it. She had climbed up there and drawn that little traitor.

What a silly, hideous thing, haunting his subconscious.

What a diabolical dream.

+notes: dude, I can't believe that my first Rafayel fic is...*flailing hands* this. Something so silly...listen, memes and silly crap occupy an entire apartment complex in my brain, but what did I actually just write? No fucking clue. 0. Null.

All I know is that this is my first ever crack fic. And at the time, I thought it would be funny. Now I don't know if my opinion still stands. I merely wrote this in 3hrs 17mins. Not even a 4hr timeskip between coming up with the idea and writing it. I was that excited for the crack.

Was it worth it? No, maybe. Yes, perhaps. Idek. However, I'm not sorry for making fun of Rafayel, of course. Affectionately bullying him and being sadistic happen to be favourable pastimes of mine. I love him, bro.

+ MASTERLIST

+ AO3 POST

©𝙤𝙘𝙚𝙖𝙣𝙡𝙞𝙥𝙜𝙡𝙤𝙨𝙨

[kiss-me-cill-me]

Now We Pay The Price | Pt. 2

Start with Pt. 1 HERE!

Pairing: Jonathan Crane x Reader

Word Count: 5.4k

Warnings: ALL OF THE SAME WARNINGS AS PART 1, plus more angst, some fluff, general dark themes, depiction of a stick n' poke tattoo, violence, makeshift weapons, fear toxin, Crane spikes someone's drink (not the reader's)

A/N: Back by mildly popular demand lol :) First, I have to give a huge thank you to @cillianslvt for all of her help with brainstorming, concept bouncing, and song picking! She gave me the perfect inspo for this part: Supercut by Lorde.

I wanted to do something a bit different here, so this is told in alternating cuts between the fallout from part 1 (written in past tense) and flashbacks to the reader's college days (written in present tense just to be confusing lol). I probably will be writing one more part for this, but it might be a while before it's out because I kind of want to take a small break from angst haha. But, I hope you enjoy this part!

***Please read the warnings before continuing. Minors DNI***

Somewhere out in the echoing hallway, an alarm buzzed.

“Lights out in five minutes!”

The guard’s booming voice was almost too muffled to understand through the thick metal door. But you weren’t paying enough attention for it to matter. It was the same routine, for the hundredth time. You didn’t need an announcement to know that you were about to be plunged into the dark.

And besides, you had more important things to worry about.

Your fingers traced over the hearts that still littered your bedsheets. Contained to one of the corners for now, but wild and scattered, as if they might be about to spill out over the rest of the white cotton at any moment. Unrestrained.

You clenched your teeth, trying hard to focus on something other than the hailstorm of tremors that seemed ready to wrack your body. Your skin was prickling. If you opened your mouth, you weren’t sure if what came out would be a sob or a scream. You didn’t particularly want to find out.

The familiar sound of a key in the lock was enough to pull you out of your stupor. Quickly, you covered the doodles again, and whipped your head toward the door, hoping.

But no. It was nobody. Some faceless orderly, sent to give you the pills that you never took, if you could get away with hiding them.

Tonight, though, you decided to behave. You had certainly been causing enough trouble lately. And besides, if you were being honest, you could use them. Your mood had been a complete mess all day, and a little stability would be nice, for a change.

You swallowed your pride along with the pills, and flopped back onto the mattress. As soon as the orderly was gone, you inched the sheets back down, exposing the blue stains. Tomorrow was laundry day, and you knew that you wouldn’t be able to enjoy them for much longer.

Seconds later, the lights flicked out, and you were left alone with your memories.

The asphalt beneath your feet feels like it’s not even there as you practically skip down the driveway, and you’re not sure how gravity still has a hold on you by the time your hand wrenches open the car door.

“Hey!” You smile as you climb in, whipping around quickly to fasten your seatbelt. Maybe that will be enough to ground you, but it doesn’t seem likely. “Thanks for picking me up.”

“You took long enough to get out here,” he replies, slightly snarky.

But when you finally look up at him, his soft half-smile makes your heart melt, and your legs and arms feel even more weightless than ever. His blue eyes peer over at you from just below the rim of his glasses, and he tilts his head while he waits for you to respond.

“Fuck off, Jonathan,” you laugh, waving a hand in his direction.

He shakes his head, shifting to take hold of the wheel.

As he starts the car, the two of you sit in silence for a moment, and you use the opportunity to take a closer look at him. He’s bundled up tightly in his jacket. A slight chill permeates the air, though you feel perfectly warm sitting next to him.

“I don’t know how you can stand driving around without listening to music,” you say suddenly, reaching for the radio.

It takes you a minute to find anything worth listening to. Static mixed intermittently with snippets of sound fills the car as you carefully turn the dial, until finally landing on something you know. Satisfied, you sit back.

“I don’t know how you can stand listening to this,” Jonathan laughs. “I mean, are you even hearing these lyrics?”

“I like the lyrics!” you insist. “What’s wrong with them?”

“They’re just cheesy,” he says, dismissively.

You roll your eyes, and settle back with your arm resting against the car door. Before long, your head is bobbing along to the music, and you start to hum.

You’ve only known Jonathan for a few weeks, but already it’s become nearly impossible to ignore the way your heart pounds when you’re next to him. It’s nerve wracking - to think he might not feel that way about you. But you don’t let yourself imagine that possibility too often. It’s better to stay positive, and look to your future together. You honestly can’t imagine things any other way.

At the start of the chorus, your humming turns gradually into words - quiet at first, and then louder when Jonathan doesn’t try to stop you. Soon, you’re singing at full volume.

“You know, distracted driving is the number one cause of car accidents,” he informs you.

When you look over, you notice the small smile that tugs at the corner of his lips.

“But music improves mood and cognition,” you shoot back, interrupting your singing to give him a slight shove. “Shouldn’t you know that, Mr. Psychology Major?”

Jonathan scoffs, but mercifully keeps his mouth shut when you open yours to start singing again, rolling down the window to scream into the night.

Your eyes, tight with heavy sleep, shot suddenly open, to be met by the darkness of your cell. Breath heavy, you tried to remember the dream you’d been having. Whatever it was, it had gotten you worked up. So much for the sedatives doing you any good; maybe Crane hadn’t actually upped your dose like he’d threatened to do.

Or he had, and this was just your body’s paradoxical reaction to the sudden increase. Not that you had been taking the regular dose with any consistency.

You considered getting up, but what was the point in that? There was nowhere to go but from one corner of the small room to the other, and you had spent enough time pacing back and forth to last a lifetime.

The small window set high up on the wall of your cell let in a sliver of light, just briefly, as a rotating searchlight made its round, and you closed your eyes again.

The university’s library is calming, in a way. The seemingly endless stacks of books reach out to greet you as you run your hands over their spines, walking slowly down one row and then another. 

You’re looking for something specific, but not a book. You know that he always comes here at this time.

Jonathan is crouched down to reach something on a low shelf when you finally see him. You hover, half-hidden, at the end of the row where he’s kneeling, and watch as he flips through the first few pages of a book. Satisfied, he stands up, and you saunter into the aisle to join him.

“Hey,” you call, softly. “Thought I might find you here.”

Jonathan tucks the book under his arm, and looks at you curiously for a moment.

“Hey,” he echoes, apprehensive. “Don’t you have class right now?”

“Do I?” you ask, stopping next to him. “Whoops. Whatcha reading?”

“Nothing. Just a book for class. Unlike some people I know, I take academics seriously.”

As he talks, he tilts his head to the side and takes a step closer to you, crowding you back against the bookshelves. He’s smiling. Just having fun with you; you’re sure of it. But you can’t stop the warm rush that spreads over your cheeks.

You try to straighten up under his gaze, bringing the tip of your nose close to his.

“I take this stuff seriously, too,” you insist. “Here, I’ll prove it. What’re you studying?”

Before giving him a chance to respond, you reach down and snatch the book from his hand. Brushing a thumb over the cover, you consider the title.

“Phobias, huh?” you muse. “No offense, Jonathan. But you’re not very scary.”

You beam as you watch a blush creep over his cheeks. He’s been doing that around you more often, and every time you notice it, your heart swells.

“You don’t think so?” he drones, taking another step closer.

He’s nearly on top of you as you press back into the row of books, and you feel your heart leap into your throat. Not out of fear, but for an entirely different reason.

“Nope,” you challenge. “Not scary at all.”

“Hm. Guess I’ll have to try harder then.” 

He snatches the book back and starts to move away from you, but before he can get too far, both of your hands shoot out. Your fingers grab onto his sweater, and faster than you have a chance to think, suddenly your lips are pressing against his. Eyes squeezed shut so you don’t have to face his reaction, you hold him. But when you let go of his shirt, he stays there for a few seconds longer, before pulling away.

“That was scary,” you breathe, finally daring to meet his cold eyes.

But, what you see there is softness, mixed with slight shock. The piercing, frost-blue that normally seems to slice through you has taken on a watery quality, as if something has melted, if just for a moment.

You take a deep breath as Jonathan leans back in.

By the time the orderlies had started to wheel their huge bin of laundry down the narrow hall, your white sheets were already torn off and crumpled at the foot of your bed. You weren’t about to take the risk of anyone else seeing the hearts you’d drawn. This way, they were unlikely to be noticed. At least until after they’d already been mixed with all of the other patients’ laundry, untraceable to you.

Before, the worst that could happen was you losing your pen - a sorry excuse for entertainment, but nothing vital. Now, losing that same pen meant losing your one chance at freedom as well, and you weren’t prepared to give that up.

You stood in the far corner of the room, watching silently as two men came in to collect your sheets. They didn’t comment on the fact that you’d stripped your own bed - perhaps too caught up in their meaningless conversation to notice.

When they left, you finally felt able to breathe again. You exhaled, trying to push every last trace of air out of your lungs so that you could start fresh again.

Sitting back down on your new set of sheets, you ran your hand over the blank space that no longer bore even a faint trace of love.

“What are you doing?” Jonathan asks, leaning over your shoulder to peer down at whatever has you so occupied.

“Giving myself a tattoo,” you reply easily. 

“What?”

“It’s just a little heart - see?”

You carefully hold up your wrist to him, showing off the half finished lobe of a heart. One side of it, anyway. It’s slow going, but you’re determined to take your time; to not rush through the impulsive decision you’ve made.

“Why would you do that to yourself?”

“Because I felt like it,” you reply. “Do I need another reason?”

“Did you at least sterilize your wrist - and the needle?” he sighs.

“I used some hand sanitizer. M’sure that’s good enough.”

Jonathan pinches the bridge of his nose, putting his other hand on his hip.

“You’re going to hurt yourself,” he complains.

“Well, it’s not like I can’t stop now, though - right?” you say, playfully. “You’re always telling me not to leave things half finished.”

Jonathan sits down in the chair next to you, as you go back to carefully maneuvering the needle. Your tongue sticks out from the corner of your mouth, frozen in concentration. You jump, just a fraction of an inch, as the sharp point breaches your skin.

“Give me that,” Jonathan mutters.

He’s already swiped the needle away from you, and is holding your wrist down securely against the table as he inspects your work.

“This isn’t going to heal nicely,” he informs you.

“I don’t care.”

To your surprise, he dips the needle into the little pot of ink that’s sitting on the table between you, and then lines up the point to continue.

“You’re pushing it in way too deep,” he says, peering over his glasses.

When he presses down, the sharp end of the needle barely seems to graze you. It doesn’t hurt so much when he does it. Jonathan’s thumb brushes over the flesh of your palm, soothing you.

“You’re good at this,” you comment. “You’ll make a good doctor someday.”

Jonathan tries to hide his smile, but you catch the small curl of his lips despite the way he’s hunched over, focusing on your tattoo. The second jab is just as painless as the first, and you smile back.

“This isn’t exactly what I picture myself doing for work.” He laughs - just a small hum, but it’s there.

“Right - you want to study the fear of needles. Not be the one jabbing patients.”

“Something like that,” he agrees.

The two of you sit, huddled close in the silence; you watching Jonathan work as he gingerly uses the needle. It’s strangely intimate, and you feel closer to him than you have in a long time. 

Not because you’ve spent too much time apart. On the contrary, you’ve been seeing each other more often than ever. But the more time you spend with him, the sharper you seem to feel his small absences. It has, lately, started to seem like you need to see Jonathan more and more often just to feel normal; like you’re in danger of something bad happening when he’s not there.

“Thank you,” you say.

“For what?”

“The tattoo means more, now that you’re the one doing it.”

Jonathan keeps his head bowed, trying desperately not to let you see his expression. The tips of his ears give him away, though, as they turn a bright pink behind strands of hair that have fallen away as he leans down.

“Jonathan?” “Hm?”

“It’s polite to say ‘you’re welcome’ when someone thanks you,” you tease.

As he looks up to narrow his eyes at you, you take the chance to lean in and press a kiss to his cheek.

The harsh white fluorescents buzzed over your head as you leaned back in your uncomfortable chair. You’d sat in this same plastic seat for probably dozens of therapy sessions. Not once had the miserable thing ever done anything other than give you back pain.

“Are you paying attention?” the doctor in front of you asked.

“No,” you replied.

What was the use in lying, when it was obvious to both of you?

The doctor hummed in annoyance, shuffled some papers, and frowned at her clipboard. 

“Well I suggest you start,” she began, “because what we’re trying to do here is very important. You know your appeal is in the process of being reviewed, and…”

You tuned her out, turning your attention to the much more important matter of planning your escape. Even just thinking those words made you feel strangely giddy. This was something that happened in movies and cheap paperback novels; not real life. But, you had made up your mind, and there would be no going back now. You were going to rebuild your life with the person who mattered most, and doing that meant that you needed to get out of here.

You thought of the ballpoint pen, now modified and hidden, deep within the bones of your mattress. It had taken patience to sharpen the plastic casing against the concrete, and patience was something you didn’t have much of these days. But in the end, it would all be worth it.

“...three counts of manslaughter, and two more of - are you listening?” the doctor repeated. 

“Why should I? We both know that I’ve heard this a thousand times,” you sighed.

The doctor, equally as exasperated, crossed her arms and rolled her eyes.

“Whatever. It’s your life.”

“My life doesn’t exist in here,” you whispered. “Not the one I want, anyway.”

“Well, it’s the one you’ve got, so maybe you ought to start acting like it,” she suggested.

You ignored her, and retreated back into the world that only existed inside your memories. Yours… and his, if you were lucky.

The room is dark and full of music. Music, and bodies - swaying in time to the rhythm; draped over furniture or pressed up against walls, as lips meet and hands wander. You pass by two people who look like they’re three seconds away from ripping each other’s clothes off, and duck under the raised elbow of somebody else as they pump their fist in the air. A clamor erupts as you pass; some conversation you’re not part of that’s full of hollered laughter and shouts.

You’re looking for Jonathan, amidst all the colors and flashing lights. You’d left him several minutes ago to go and find the bathroom, and got turned around on your way back. The slight buzz of alcohol makes your limbs a bit looser than usual, and you pause to savor the deep thrum that emanates from the sound system. As you close your eyes, your feet sway a little, and you smile.

Jonathan is never interested in going to parties with you, but for whatever reason, he had accepted the invitation tonight. You like to think it’s because he just wants to spend time with you, even if loud, messy gatherings aren’t usually his idea of a good time.

Finally, you find your way back to the couch where you left him. And there he is, smiling that soft half-smile you know so well, from the hundreds of times it’s made your heart do somersaults in your chest.

You frown. Scowl.

Jonathan is leaning forward, hands on his legs as he talks to another woman. Smiles at her. You stop short in your tracks, and watch from a distance as Jonathan tilts his head to her ear, whispering something.

The girl stands up, giggles while she looks down at him for a moment, and then walks off. You see red; a crimson wash that feels slightly too familiar as it drapes over you.

Jonathan, still on the couch, smiles for a moment longer before reaching into his pocket. The girl has moved on by now, and you watch as the affable grin is wiped neatly from Jonathan’s face, replaced by something blank and more difficult to categorize.

There’s a tiny glass tube in his hand. You can’t see what it is exactly, but you can make out the way he removes a cap, and then brings his hand close to the red plastic cup that’s sitting on the table in front of him, right where the woman had been.

Your rage propels you forward, and without time to think things through, you’ve grabbed the sleeve of his jacket before you even realize you’ve reached him.

“Shit- Oh. It’s you,” Jonathan mumbles.

“What the hell are you doing?” you hiss.

Jonathan looks at your hand on his arm. The vial, now empty and still pinched between his fingers, hidden from the rest of the crowd. And then back up to your face.

“This isn’t what it looks like,” he begins.

“What are you doing?” you repeat, your voice wobbling louder.

Jonathan’s eyes dart off to the side, and he stands up quickly. Suddenly, his hand is in yours and he’s dragging you off, heading for a set of glass doors that lead to the back patio.

“Let’s go somewhere more private,” he says, and you can barely hear him muttering over the sound of the screeching music and the pounding, frantic whir that seems to have taken over your head. 

By the time you’re outside, the door shut firm behind you, you haven’t calmed down a bit.

“Jonathan-”

“I swear, I’m not doing anything bad,” he interjects. “I know that it… probably looks like I’m-”

“Why her?” you say, softly.

You can’t even stand to look at him as you speak. Your whole chest feels impossibly heavy; as if it’s consuming the rest of your body, piece by dissolving piece.

“...What?” Jonathan looks at you curiously, as you feel yourself fall even more fully apart.

“Why her, when I’m right here, huh?” you demand, tears squeezing out from behind your damp eyelashes, even as you try to blink them back. “I’m yours, Jonathan. I’ve been yours. All you have to do is ask.”

“That’s not… God, I’m not trying to-”

“You don’t even have to try with me!” you cry, voice rising up into a frenzy. Your hands fly to slam against him, pushing him by the shoulders. “You’ve never had to-”

You cut yourself off, and cradle your wrist to your chest. The tattoo that he gave you is settled close by to your heart, and you bring your other hand up to trace absently over the ink that mirrors it.

“Listen to me,” Jonathan says, taking hold of your shoulders. You look up at him, salty tears still welled in your eyes, starting to spill down over your cheeks. “That’s not what I’m doing. This is just… research.”

“Research?” you echo.

“Yes. That’s all,” he assures you. Both of you have started to calm down, and the pressure of his hands on your shoulders finally becomes noticeable. “It’s for… how do I phrase this?”

The sounds of the party are muffled out here, but suddenly a sharp scream rises over the music. Both of you turn to peer through the glass doors, and you catch a brief glimpse of the woman from earlier, just as the red plastic cup falls from her hand. She claws at her face, and sinks to the floor, still screaming.

Your focus shifts back to Jonathan, and you watch as he stares through the glass, his eyes frigid and, suddenly, calculating. His hands are still on your shoulders, and you feel as his grip tightens slightly, as if his fingers are itching to do… something. You can’t say quite what.

“...Fear,” you breathe, quietly.

You aren’t sure exactly what’s going on, but some sort of vague understanding has started to seep into your nerves, mending the frays that had threatened to form. Like healing salve, soothed over all of the tiny rips and tears that had nearly pulled you apart, only seconds ago.

“Yes,” he agrees. “That’s all I wanted her for. I swear.”

It takes you a moment to realize he’s looking at you again, a serious expression on his strained face. His eyes seem to bore into yours, but it’s comforting, just to feel like he’s burrowing into you.

The commotion inside becomes louder; more shouts of alarm rising to join the first, and you hear something crash to the ground. But you’re not paying attention to that anymore; you’re swimming in Jonathan’s eyes as the tears slowly dry from yours.

“Jonathan?” you ask. “Can we go home?”

He turns to look again at the riot that’s quickly developing inside; the bass of the music replaced now by shrill cries that have risen above everything. For a moment, you think he’s about to refuse, and the lump in your throat almost tears through the delicate flesh of your neck.

“Sure. Let’s go home,” he agrees.

You walk, hand in hand, away from the party. Looping around the house and down the sidewalk, your fingers intertwine with his in the night air. You smile, and grab onto Jonathan’s arm, pulling him closer.

Today was the day.

You pulled your sleeve down, trying to cover the now-sharpened pen casing that was held tight in your sweaty hand. The tip of your finger brushed over the point, as you went over the plan in your head again.

If you could manage to be stealthy enough, you wouldn’t even need the pen. Not that you would hesitate to use it, but there was a certain amount of risk that you’d prefer to avoid if at all possible. Things could get messy, and that would be sure to draw attention. For once, you didn’t want Crane to notice what you were doing.

You stayed close to the wall of the cafeteria, practically hugging the stone as you walked briskly. It was important to be fast, but not too fast.

“What are you doing?” asked a sharp voice behind you.

You would have spun faster than either of you could blink, pen at the ready to plunge into his neck. If only you hadn’t recognized the voice.

Crane grabbed you roughly by the shoulder, and you screamed silently behind your eyes.

“Nothing,” you said calmly. “Going for a walk.”

“You’re not allowed to do that,” Crane sighed, already dragging you to face him. His expression was just as drab as the bricks that now pressed into your back. “What’s in your hand?”

Your finger flicked over the sharp point again. This was the one possibility that you hadn’t imagined, of course. The one opponent your weapon was useless against, all because you couldn’t bring yourself to use it.

With your jaw set and shoulders squared, you straightened up to face him. You wouldn’t shy away from his eyes, even if looking at them meant facing the disappointment that lurked, not-so-subtly beneath their surface.

Crane grew impatient awaiting your answer, and grabbed you by the wrist. You let him. It was useless to resist, and the two of you glared at each other as he yanked your hand and your fingers fell open. The story was written over your palm, almost as clearly as if you had used the pen to record it across your own flesh.

Crane picked up the wrecked pen, considered the jagged edge of the plastic, and pocketed it. Without another word, he turned and dragged you out of the cafeteria, heading toward your cell.

Jonathan’s hand in yours is restless; seeming to flutter as his thumb drifts absentmindedly, rubbing back and forth in a way that might be more soothing for him than it is to you. You want to help him, but you’re not sure how. You’ve noticed the anxieties that have seemed to overwhelm him lately, and you wish there was more you could offer him.

“Maybe you should take a break,” you suggest. “We could watch a movie or something. Go for a walk?”

Jonathan shakes his head, and tears his hand away to go back to scribbling on the pad in front of him. The paper is already littered with letters and symbols that mean nothing to you. Three vials full of pale liquid - Jonathan’s pet project - roll gently back and forth on the table.

“I can’t get it right, and I don’t know why,” he snaps, frustrated. “I need to run more tests, but…”

“I could test it for you,” you offer.

Jonathan looks at you with a mix of shock and, maybe, revulsion, and you feel yourself shrink back into your seat.

“I wouldn’t ask you to do that,” he says.

“You don’t have to ask,” you reply. “I’d do anything for you.”

His expression morphs into something that’s harder to read. That’s been happening more and more often lately, and it’s started to panic you when it does. You know him so well, but suddenly, there are sides to him that seem almost foreign to you. You bring a hand up to cup his sharp cheek, and the smile stretched over your own face feels plastic.

“Us against the world,” you remind him.

Jonathan places his hand over yours, only for a moment before pulling away entirely.

“I just… want to know I can do something,” he says. “Something I set my own mind to.”

“You can,” you assure him. “You have.”

“My whole life, I’ve felt as if I’m just reacting to things that are outside of my control,” he continues, almost as if he hadn’t heard you. “I just want to understand why.”

Emotion has crept into his voice, and your first instinct is to pull back. You ignore it. Instead, you place a kiss on his temple, and he lets his head fall to rest on your shoulder. The room is silent for a moment, as you wrap both your arms around him and try to think of something to say.

“You know I’d be lost without you, right?” you ask, gently. 

“That’s because you have a dysfunctional attachment style.”

You stop. His words, flat and unemotional, pierce through you as if he had stabbed instead of spoken them. You can feel the ground opening up at your feet, and struggle to reassert yourself.

“That’s not true. You… don’t mean that,” you flounder.

“Maybe I don’t,” he agrees, halfheartedly. “Who knows anymore.”

Your heart aches. You hate that he’s talking like this is the end of something. A foregone conclusion that’s just out of his grasp, but that he doesn’t even care to reach for. A sentence on a page, half-finished but forgotten.

“You’ve been working too hard,” you decide. “You’re tired.”

“I am tired.”

“Let’s go to bed, then,” you suggest. 

He nods, and you take hold of his hand to guide him, the dark ink of your tattoo pressed up against the blank space on his wrist.

Back in your cell, Crane didn’t bother to lock the door behind him for once. Instead, he stood directly in front of it, hands on his hips as he stared down at you.

“I would say I’m shocked, but I’m not,” he sighed, voice already grinding against itself. “But, what I can’t figure out is this. What gave you the idea that this would go well for you?”

You didn’t answer.

“It’s not as if I don’t monitor you.”

Normally, the admission that he’d been paying attention to you would have made your heart flutter. But now, it felt like there was nothing more than a pit in your chest. The same one that was always there, longing for something that could fill it without being swallowed.

“You’re lucky it was me who found you, and not somebody else.” He moved one hand to pinch at the bridge of his nose, just like he always had. For as long as you’d known him. “Don’t you ever stop and think before you act?”

That was insulting. You’d spent plenty of time thinking about this. In fact, it was all you’d been focusing on for weeks - at least when your mind was clear enough to focus. 

And really, he was one to talk. How many times had you helped him crawl out of one failed situation or another? It wasn’t fair for him to talk like everything he did went perfectly, when both of you knew very well that it didn’t.

“Don’t have anything to say?” Crane pried.

You felt anger swell furiously within you, and - as if to prove the point he’d just made - you surged forward without thinking. Crane didn’t have any time to react, and you pressed your lips up against his in a harsh kiss that felt sickeningly void of love. Your cold fingers grabbed at the front of his sweater, and you felt your lips crush into your teeth, desperately searching for some hint of the spark that you felt certain was still there.

Crane scrambled, his back pressed against the hard door, and finally tore you away from him.

“What are you doing?” he spat.

Your eyes were downcast, unable to meet his, and you bit the cracked skin of your lips.

“Who knows anymore,” you replied, echoing his words from long ago.

“You need to control yourself,” Crane hissed. “If you can’t, I’m not going to keep making excuses for you.”

His words might as well have just echoed off the stone walls, vibrating in an empty cell. You weren’t listening. You weren’t even there anymore.

Fleeting as a beam of light. 

Crane collected himself and then left, departing just as the sleek ribbons of past life came to wrap over you again.

You woke, not realizing that you’d fallen asleep. You weren’t sure how long it had been since Crane left, but, judging by the way the lights were already turned out, it had been hours. 

Automatically, your hand went to the top corner of your mattress, intent on blindly tracing over the hearts that had once been there on the sheets. But of course, they weren’t anymore. Instead, though, you heard a clatter as something fell to the floor.

That was odd. Certainly, you hadn’t left anything there this morning. It wasn’t as if you had any possessions to leave.

Groping in the dark, your fingers slid across the floor. Finally, you found it, and held the object up close to your face.

A key.

Your lips curled as you held tight to the metal.

Read Pt. 3 HERE!

[vershl]

I'm not sure if you've thought about this yet, but what are all of the Gems' weapons?

I have a feeling that Knuckles' weapon is somewhat similar to Garnet's dual-wielding gauntlets, but what about the others?

Okay so my answer is going to be kind of limited atm, I haven't doodled any of the others, but I'll do my best to answer you!

---

Knuckles

So first off, yes, Knuckles uses his gloves just like Garnet's dual gauntlets. It's perfect for him, and I couldn't picture him using any other weapon.

Shadow

don't drool over him in the first doodle pls, i already did enough of that-- ahem

also GOD y'all love jacket shad, we'll keep it, we'll keep it. sheesh- i'll even put a star on the back to mirror sonic's gem and it'll be really gay and cute ANYWAY, read my stuff

Shadow's is still in the works, but I'm REALLY liking the scythe idea. With his game motif as well of course. I'm still not entirely sold on it, part of me is contemplating a spear for a nod to 'Chaos Spear'. The handle in the first sketch will remain the same for sure, but I may fiddle with the spear thought. I contemplated giving him a gun of course, but I don't think it really fits in the SU world.

Sonic

Now Sonic... I have NO idea to be honest with you. I'm going back and forth on whether he even has a weapon or not.. he has his speed and could fight like his normal game self. Then I get the idea of maybe he uses a sword? And I just now got the idea of spikes along his body, so when he runs fast/spins into someone it just shreds them. Adding on the thought of lightning abilities, don't know where that one came from but I like it-- I don't know, what do you guys think?

Amy

Amy uses her signature hammer, I'll definitely play with the design more. But yep, she gets to keep her weapon.

Tails

Tails is going to use gadgets/inventions to help in battles, and is the designated medic. He's not a frontline fighter.

Rouge

So I have two ideas for our stupid bat bitch; One, I dress her and equip her like a rogue, which would be sick I think. And two, dress and equip her like a paladin, sword and shield style. I'll play with both ideas, but I am leaning a bit more towards the rogue.

Silver

Gonna be real? Zero idea. I mean I COULD give him a sword.. or ice powers because he's a sapphire. But in SU we've never seen a sapphire fight, so we don't really know a thing about their abilities in combat. But yeah, could be cringe and have him be the ice to blaze's fire.

Blaze

Speaking of Blaze; She uses her fire abilities to fight, encasing her fists or feet in flames, she uses martial arts in combat. Hers was simple and easy to come up with, lmao.

[realcube]

RANDOM MATCHUPS

✦ for @s0dium

✦ tw: ramblings of a crazy person. also in no particular order.

fat gum — bnha

✦ his regular height is unknown but in his "fat" form he is 8'2" lol

✦ and when he is in his regular form, he has hella muscle (ex)

✦ also ofc his quirk involves eating so his love language is probably food too

✦ he is also kinda a comic relief character so ofc he is funny af and a sweetheart

✦ also his heart would literally melt if you supported his pro-heroing the same way you would for like a vb player s/o if you know what i mean??

✦ like buying his pro-hero merch and wearing his faces on shirts and stuff- he's be legit so flattered and flustered actually

✦ especially bc he's not like.. particularly famous (he's got a ranking of #58 in osaka 😬) so you being his number one supporter would mean the world to him

✦ omg and you guys could have a meet-cute where he saves you from villains !!

✦ or thieves trying to steal some anime merch you just bought 😤

bokuto kotaro — haikyuu!!

✦ i already mentioned this at the bottom of your hq matchup but you'd also suit bokuto sm

✦ he's tall + muscular

✦ and he's so silly so he could obviously make you laugh

✦ also the part about you having a golden doodle definitely would fly a lot better with bokuto than oikawa bc bokuto would be thriving playing with your doggy or watching you play with her , meanwhile oikawa would be silently jealous if you pay her more attention than him LOL

✦ however, perhaps bokuto is worse bc he will entertain and play with your dog so much and distract her from actually.. y'know.. doing her job

✦ you're like 'bo can i have my therapy dog pls i kinda need her' and he's like 'awww.. but i'm teaching her how to high five rn...'

✦ but omg you being his biggest supporter at matches would literally make him so happy, and he'd point to you in the crowd whenever he landed a spike

✦ so whenever you go to his games you need to be camera ready bc he keeps motioning to you and waving at you so their gonna keep zooming in on you in the crowd

kentaro kyoutani (mad dog) — haikyuu!!

✦ okay hear me out 👀 he's pretty tall and muscular

✦ and he can defo make you laugh with how wild and fierce he is

✦ plus he'd be chill with your dog bc he has one of his own and they could be best friends

✦ and if you ever want to do taekwondo sparring, he's the perfect guy to practise with ( no he doesn't know any martial arts but he's good at fighting so it comes naturally to him lol )

✦ the only thing is that .. he isn't kind, like, at all

✦ but you can fix him!! i believe in you!!

✦ he would be blushin n shi when he sees you in the stands at his sendai frogs games

✦ would not be as obvious about it as bokuto but with all the kyoutani merch you got on, all his teammates can tell you've come for him and they tease him about it

✦ (he's internally loving it tho)

✦ but also he's so gonna hold it against you .. if he ever sees you trying to leave the house, looking a bit too good, he's like 'what happened to that shirt with my face on it? why don't you wear that out? 🤔' bc he knows that despite how good you may look, no guy is gonna hit on you if they see his big scary mug on your chest LOL

makoto tachibana — free! iwatobi swim club

✦ pls excuse me it's been so long since i watched this show but

✦ makoto was criminally underrated and he defo deserves a sweet gal to cheer for him when he swims bc, being fr, i don't remember anyone doing so

✦ they were all about haru and rin iirc

✦ also he is the tall and muscular BLUEPRINT

✦ plus he's super kind

kineshi hairo — the disastrous life of saiki k

✦ he'd also be the biggest support of your taekwondo dream.. perhaps to a concerning extent

✦ like he's always offering to trains with you and go on morning runs together and getting you into the competitive spirit for the competitions (that he is going to persuade you into joining somehow with his inspirational speeches lol)

✦ he would also be down to go skating / snowball fight

✦ but if he manages to hit you with a snowball.. ouch

✦ lights knocked out unfortunately 😔

joe — sk8 the infinity

✦not sure what to say actually

✦ he's just a tall, muscular, funny and kind guy

✦ he probably doesn't like winter bc he skateboards and ice/snow makes the ground all slippy and dangerous

✦ so going on dates with you would give him something to look forward to

✦ he's kinda a player though so please keep an eye on that celluar device of his 🧐

gojo satoru — jjk

✦ purely based on appearance bc i've never seen jjk lol

✦ but i think aesthetically y'all compliment each other very well

✦ i think it's the contrast of the hair but also the similarities in the eyes

✦ also y'all are both model height so 🙌

✦ you + gojo are the fabled "two pretty bestfriends"

for @s0dium: haha this was super fun and such a nice idea !!!

[prof-ramses]

Okay so I was thinking about your theory/idea thing for SM6, about one of the characters getting "infected" with the sugar high, and I remembered this one doodle Pelo made after TT released

And how Kevin's VA showed a photo of his recordings for Kevin in SM6

Note the bit towards the end where it looks like Kevin goes quiet, only for him to get really loud, like he's screaming a lot; it would fit a horror build-up scene following by him actually losing it

I can absolutely see Kevin being the one of the group to eat the spiked sugar and then attack the others

HOLY SHIT, YOU'RE A GENIUS! I always thought of the doodle as a joke but if Kevin is the one to get "sugared up" it would actually make perfect sense.

Initially I thought maybe John would be the one to get contaminated but that was mostly because of the theory that the Candy Dealer is his brother. Kevin is a way more likely candidate.

Come to think of it, there aren't any giant lollipop props in the candy club, so maybe CD spikes the town by starting his own store, which ends up being where Kevin gets contaminated and where he finds the giant lollipop.

Thanks for bringing this to my attention.

On a side note, I imagined the characters having some change to their eyes as a visual shorthand for them being "infected" with the "sugar high" but couldn't come up with what it would look like. But now, I think they might turn purple, like CD's eyes (I refuse to believe them looking like that is just shading).

[miraculous-pyxie]

marinette headcanon time

marinette’s knees are filled with little scars and long-term bruises from how many time she falls over 

she carries a very cute first aid kit in her backpack just in case her skin breaks or if she needs a quick ice pack (those lil crack and shake things that get really cold)

marinette became the go to person when somebody got hurt is phys ed when the teens were younger. she eventually got first aid certified.

 marinette used to carry a bit more weight (you see her parents genetic make up) but from becoming ladybug she burns a lot of calories/fat from running around all day. to keep people/parents from getting suspicious, she starts running which keeps her even more in shape.

little marinette got into sewing because her mom always needed to repair her clothes from the rips and tears they would get from her falling over. she felt guilty about it so she said that she would do it. her mom taught her then she started teaching herself

I love the idea that Adrien and Marinette get stronger and more flexible from using the miraculous. Adrien has an excuse that this is how he needs to look for modeling (everyone believes that) but marinette has less of an excuse so she has to flub saying she started going to the gym and attempt to become less clumsy. not wanting it to be a lie, she starts going to a gym once a week for an hour (this is where she does her runs instead).

marinette meditates with her mom whenever she’s stressed and gets lightly told off when she starts fidgeting too much

along with Tikki’s cookies, marinette keeps a stash of protein shakes and protein bars in her room

 marinette has ADHD so she is prone to zoning out and has accidentally zoned out in someone’s direction before then zones back in and profusely apologizes for ”staring” at them

marinette will hyperfocus on a project for hours and she has almost missed patrol several times because of it.

adding onto that, she will sometimes be working till 3 am so getting up at 7 am for school is really hard. (delayed sleep phase syndrome let’s goooo)

on top of that, coffee is her best friend. not because of the energy boost but it keeps her focused in school. (Alya doesn’t know about the ADHD at first and thinks her best friend has a severe coffee addiction)

from becoming ladybug, Marinette has actually gotten very coordinated.  she was very clumsy as a kid, but now it only spikes when she feels emotionally vulnerable. (i.e. around Adrien, when she’s nervous)

 Adrien is Marinette’s first big crush  so for the first few weeks marinette actually was really uncomfortable. she was having an internal battle of never feeling something like a crush before and also beating herself up over the idea that this might be a celebrity crush and she’s just a crazy fan

i saw this somewhere else but marinette doesn’t like horror movies not because they scare her but because they are underwhelming to her. mari and the gang will be having a movie night and she’ll just sit their with her arms crossed and say “I’ve seen worse.” and alya nino and adrien will just looked at her absolutely baffled. (even though adrien is chat noir, he’s had less exposure to scary things growing up)

adding onto that, marinette 100% had unrestricted internet access as a kid but she does not let it show

Marinette doodles on her skin in pen and one time she was drawing on her arm in red pen in class and an akuma related explosion happened really close. The pen exploded all over her skin and it looked like she had just killed someone.

marinette wanted to join the costume department for theater but because of her crammed schedule she can’t do it. everyone is confused as to why she doesn’t bc she’s perfect for it.

marinette matches the color of her hair ties to her outfit

marinette is better at listening to people in chinese then speaking or writing it

marinette actually gets along with her grandma really well and that’s why her grandma knew exactly what bike to get her

even though Marinette’s focus is in high fashion, she loves learning about streetwear and street fashion in places like Japan and the US

she is an absolute force to be reckoned with when she’s being stubborn about something 

she indulges in the confidence that being ladybug gives her from time to time so when chloe is back on her bs she claps back better than the last time

 a personal retcon is she gets a hold of her boy crazy-ness after the first few weeks. (the show really did her dirty on this like stalking? stealing? they should not be promoting that behavior to kids tbh)

marinette wears her new designs to school. she also secretly has a commission style business (so she can keep on top of orders bc she is just 1 person)

all and all, she is a little frazzled gremlin and i wish we got more of that blunt ,frazzled, always-busy, gremlin side of her

that’s all i can think of for now :)