Blaghhh Postal Dude Oc I Made But Ive Been Holding Off On Posting It Bcus Im Lazy

damn boy!!!! take a breath between ur bites

q!Bad: “Ideally if I took the blame for killing those workers, that could actually benefit in the long run. ideally I want Cellbit to leave the workers alone, and get the blame for it. I need Cellbit at tip top mental capacity, and right now he’s just not there. He’s an old friend as well so I need to help him.”

“He was sorta my responsibility, all those years ago… I feel like helping him out is my duty at this point.”

“He’s crazy and hiding, just like in the hunger games. he was always really good at that, it’s nice to see that he hasn’t lost his touch.”

“I never wanted him to be in that situation. But I wanted him to have the skills he needed to survive. I was only there to watch over him and others which is… it’s kinda disappointing to see what has happened... *sigh* Cellbit, Cellbit…. what to do?” :(

some quotes from yesterday’s q!bad stream. ough he is so prepared to self sacrifice for q!cellbit, they’re so…

def watch the full monologue starting at 2:43:47 in the vod if you haven’t. some big insight on the character’s plans, feelings, some of the closest we’ve seen into his mind thus far (despite him continuing to hide a lot of stuff)

Kisses

Some doodles of how some wanted to interact with Musical Dude (a kiss on the cheek, wanting to eat/bite him, and giving him a pat on the head).

Some of his favorite shows (there are more).

I'll post this one too

I think it's safe to say someone got excited about this tidbit in the QSMP rewind.

So... Cellboier decided to give us old man yaoi, I am honoring their wishes

(can't believe i am unaronically writing about Abueloier and his "friend", dear fucking god)

There was blood under his nails, but that wasn't new. He sometimes scratched too hard or got too rough with the guards after trashing around his cell. Those were the bad days, when he couldn't even control where his hands landed.

Any other day, he couldn't control where his thoughts landed. That was the real danger. Not the scratches and bruises, the teasers and beatings. None of that compared to what years of confinement can do to you.

It probably would've been even worse had he not met him.

"Hey" he had whispered one night from the cell next to his, just over a year ago, after the guards left "You okay?"

"De puta madre" Abueloier hissed, touching his busted lip "Y tu qué? You're new?"

"Got transfered today" the man behind the wall moved to the front of the cell, Abueloier instinctively followed "Are they always like that?"

"Only if you're crazy enough to start breaking shit in your cell and threatening to kill everybody"

"Are you?"

Abueloier almost heard a smile in his whisper. He'd always remember that as the moment he realized he had finally found a match, someone of his caliber. An equal, a partner.

"On my bad days" he answered.

The other huffed a short laugh "Well, it's a pleasure to meet you at your worst"

"I'd hope so, you would hate me at my best"

From then on, they moved together as one. It was them against the rest of the inmates, the guards, the entire prison. They shared every meal, every recess, and talked about what they'd do once they made it out.

"I'll build myself a house" he spoke around a spoonful of beans "Maybe a castle"

Abueloier laughed "You dream too big"

"Okay then, what will you do?"

He shrugged and looked down at the stale beans on his plate "Make tacos, probably"

The talking got to planning, the days got longer and Abueloier's mind got louder. Every time his new friend explained what they had to do, his voice morphed into some distortion of what he said. The last days were bad, worst than bad, and nothing could stop that train of thought from flying off the rails.

"How do you know their schedual?" his hands shook, they had been doing that for a while.

"I told you already, I sneaked into the office-"

"Yeah, right. Fucking likely" there was a noise coming from his right but nobody noticed, so Abueloier didn't turn to check. He kept staring into those wild, troubled blue eyes and decided that if there was a white figure at the corner of his eye, he'd not give it the satisfaction of being noticed.

"You trust me, right?" he tilted his head, some of his hair brushing the neck of his uniform. Had that smile always been part of the design on their uniforms? Was it there at all?

"I do" he sighed and closed his eyes, mostly to avoid noticing more than he could handle "We can do this, and we will. Together"

There was blood under his nails, and it wasn't his or from any guard. His only friend tried to sit up to cough up blood but winced when it only made the knife dig further into his abdomen.

"Why would you do this to me?" he heaved, but Abueloier was about to ask the same thing.

"Where do you know them from? Was this entire thing just a trick to get me to them?"

That smile was plastered everywhere, he could see it in the blood that poured from his friend. He would see it in the tears that fell to his hands.

"I would've gone to the end of the Earth with you, but you chose them" he pressed his forehead to a bloody chest, feeling the difficulty of its rise and fall "You chose them. You chose them. I would've chosen you"

The realization came seconds before those wild, troubled blue eyes dimmed into nothing. There was blood under his nails, on his hands, on his clothes, pouring from his friend's body. There was betrayal laced to his last words.

"I choose you too" it sounded like a scratched record, wet with the blood drowning the sound from his throat "At your worst and at your best"

The guards found him some time later, maybe minutes, maybe hours, could've been days for all he knew. Turns out they didn't wear white, never did, in fact. The smiles from the walls were no longer there, the eyes in every corner had completely dissapeared. No trace of bears or artificial voices telling him about other people's intentions.

All that was left was a life sentence and years worth of lagoons in his memory, blissfully blank and confused. Still, he managed. He got a job as a janitor, even went out sometimes to meet up with his grandson, but always tried to avoid that good for nothing husband of his.

Those eyes, they looked too lively. Too wild, too troubled for anyone's good

Day two of @atthebell ‘s spiderbit prompt week!

Coffee shop || Sparring

tbh this one is a little spicy and I was a bit nervous about posting it at first but then I remembered that this isn’t twitter and I can do what I want <3

”What if nobody likes my story?” Well do you like it? Your story will always have at least one fan. Write for yourself and the right audience will come along.

still figuring out design stuff