#.thank you again!

[confusionism]

TAG 9 PEOPLE YOU’D LIKE TO KNOW BETTER

favourite colour(s): usually greens, blues, greys

favourite flavour(s): garlic / onion for savoury; matcha or cookies and cream for sweet

favourite genre(s): i’m a sucker for historical fiction, even if the work is terribly full of anachronisms (sometimes that’s what makes it more fun). mysteries and thrillers are my bread and butter, but just between you and me— i’ll give almost anything a chance. if i were a cat, my curiosity would’ve taken me for good ages ago lol

favourite music: depends on what i’m doing! i’m that person who never takes the aux cord and shuffles the entire library bc the emotional whiplash would be too real. old school r&b one minute, hard rock the next... some orchestral score ten minutes late

favourite movie(s):  i almost always say the empire strikes back (1980) as a way of signaling the general star wars nerdery. other go-to answers are jurassic park (1993) and hero (2002)

favourite series: y’know, now that i think about it, i can’t name more than five series that i’ve actually watched from start to finish. picking from that list (it doesn’t seem right to choose otherwise) i’d go with... the santa clarita diet. i wanna rewatch avatar: the last airbender, though

last song: the last thing that played on my run yesterday was... criminal - taemin

last series: i finished the first half of abbot elementary s2 and am waiting for the rest of the episodes to come out because i just know i won’t be able to resist binging them all in one sitting.

last movie: everything everywhere all at once (i shed a single manly tear)

currently reading: the firekeeper’s daughter - angeline boulley

currently watching: how’d you know my tv is on? i’m 10 mins into only murders in the building s2e2. don’t ask me when i’ll finish it, not bc i don’t like it, but bc my attention span isn’t it atm

currently working on: at this very moment, lol, i’m attempting to figure out how to answer the “favourite series” part of this questionnaire. i always get stuck on that sort of thing! outside of that, just getting by day-to-day, man

tagged by: @bourbcnchoices ; thanks for the tag! pls also take this as me liking your original post, which i couldn’t do since this is a side blog... tagging: @erstwhles (i saw that you’ve already done this so i’m actually tagging per your post’s ending blurb); @rcguereveries (bc of scd + “not-benny” +  i believe you still need to show me mamma mia 2); @badiiidea (so you know why i’m still awake); @wingsandahalo (i’ve been meaning to get back on here more consistently and think of writing w/ you often); @inexorcble (it’s fun typing your url bc of that c in the middle, so here i am having fun); and in the spirit of oprah, if you just so happen to be reading this mess of a post, ‘you get a tag! you get a tag!’

[artsymeeshee]

Haven’t collabed with @renconner in a long while for a mini comic (minus our big one, Instinct). We were talking about one of Stan’s lowest moments involving being outside with that damn sign, so we decided to make a comic with Stan remembering it. I’ve also kinda of assumed Filbrick would lie to Ford about what’s going on with Stan (Stan probably did too to some extent).

[batcavescolony]

Katniss is such an unreliable narrator. She says "Then something unexpected happens. At least, I don't expect it because I don't think of District 12 as a place that cares about me" girl you deliver strawberries to the Mayor, you hunt and trade for the district, when you fell at Prim being chosen someone caught you, when you went to Prim people parted for you, when you volunteered EVERYONE stopped. Idk how to tell you but I think you're a pillar of the community.

[ginnyw-potter-archive]

Feel free to use, or message me for more banners

yes, I'm self-aware thank you

[mroddmod]

they are like puppies. 2 me

[to00fu]

:)

[radiation]

[canisalbus]

✦ Freshly ordained ✦

[aluminumneedles]

I'm knitting in the corner at a party

and guys my age stop by to tell me I remind them of their aunt, of their grandmother. This is a compliment and I take it as such. They confess to having tried crochet once, and I smile. They get back in line for the bathroom.

I'm knitting in the corner at a party and a queer woman sits on the floor next to me, arranges her skirt, and smiles up at me. (I try not to blush.) She asks me all the questions on her mind about my craft and I answer them, hands still moving. We swap yarn sources. She doesn't stay, but she knows where to find me.

I'm knitting in the corner at a party and everyone knows where to find me when they need a minute, when socializing is too much and the music is too loud and they need to catch their breath. They pretend to be checking in on me, which is sweet, but I can see the relief in their eyes the moment they stop performing for a house full of people. They sit down and tell me things and all the while they never take their eyes off my hands.

The party has wound down and I'm still knitting and the hosts, two guys in their twenties, thank me for "helping to curate the vibe." I had no idea that's what I was doing. I leave the party having forgotten to drink anything and without that woman's number but with many rows added to my top-down raglan sweater. I call it a night, and a good one.

[lilacxquartz]

love you, love you, love you;

mr. crawling x reader

plot: some things are best expressed without the need of words — themes: spooning/cuddling, smut, maybe yan vibes — w.c: 1.1k

a/n: my first homicipher related fic. i want to try one for mr. silvair & mr. gap next, bc they were also my favs. this game has been taking over my life so much lately. like it’s been in my dreams, haaah.

masterlist • ao3

Mr. Crawling was always loud when he was excited within your company; his laughter filled out the vast empty spaces that were otherwise unadorned with familiarity. Whatever you once sought from those winding corridors was ever-fleeting, temporary, leaving you stuck within the confines of his company.

Yet, when he felt what you could only interpret as affection—that’s when Mr. Crawling then became different—quiet, soothing, kind but also… curious.

And when you would usually sleep, he would stand watch, knelt over the floor as per his usual stance but sometimes crouched near you, sometimes leaning back against the wall with his legs pressed up against his chest. He would watch you as his life depended on it, unwavering in focus and with eerie intensity. He would watch as your chest rose and fell, leaning close on occasion to catch the sweep of your breath and sometimes, he would trace the pad of his milky fingertips in long, languid strokes against your face. Always so delicate, so tender, but for the most part, quiet and even shy.

Having once caught a glimpse of Mr. Gap in your blanket space, however, set something territorial off for Mr. Crawling and he was never able to recover from such an invasion. The very idea that someone else was able to infiltrate what he deemed to be your space—especially someone who he disapproved of—wasn’t something he could stand for. Especially with the sort of trickster Mr. Gap was, he couldn’t bear to see you get hurt. It would kill him on the inside (and on the outside, too).

So, just as you were getting into bed to rest up once more, he too, slipped in under the covers with you. At first, you were startled as usual, turning to face him with confusion evident in your eyes, murmuring out some words in a language that he still could not understand. He repeated something back, the meaning lost and indecipherable upon your ears, though soon surrendering to emphasis using gestures instead. A hug to bring you closer, a reassuring pat on your head and a small, longing kiss over your nose.

You listened to his words again, repeating over and over like a broken record.

Perhaps he meant no harm, after all.

You turned your back to him and settled into his chest, finding that he was surprisingly warm for what he was. His taller frame encased your body, wrapping his ashen arms around your waist—accidentally brushing the fabric that sat over your breast—nicking the cloth ever so slightly. Your breath hitched in surprise and as though in sheepish realisation, he withdrew right away, terrified that you were upset with him.

You drew out a long breath, reminding yourself again, that after everything that has happened thus far…

That, Mr. Crawling does not want to hurt you.

That Mr. Crawling has only ever helped you.

So perhaps, right now, Mr. Crawling only wanted to be closer to you.

You relaxed your breathing, settling into his comforting shadow once more and allowed for his presence to envelop you. He repeated the soothing motions of his grappling arm, although he held onto you softer that time. His hands explored your body with a delicate touch, as though afraid of breaking you—of upsetting you again—his motions growing confident the longer that you didn’t protest. It wasn’t long before he, otherwise not disturbed by your lacking, conscious awareness, decided to explore further with you. Mr. Crawling’s fingers didn’t ask for permission that time, creeping beneath the clinging fabric, feeling your skin against his palms, inviting a pleased, almost delighted smile to curl on his lips.

The silence remained unbroken as Mr. Crawling continued his explorative focus on you; the quickly-building evidence of his need growing harder the longer he pushed himself behind your body, the repeated touches arousing something warmer within him. To both his surprise as well as your own—you were not repulsed, allowing him to creep even lower, below the skirt of the dress and up, brushing his hand up to your exposed skin and, reading into it—you communicated your consent from the moment you parted your legs, allowing him to get even closer.

Confidence surged in Mr. Crawling as he pushed himself into your hilt, allowing his hardened length to slip inside. Betraying the stagnant silence, he shuddered out a ragged gasp before giving into his own rising need; grinding himself into your sopping sex with steadily increasing fervour. His fingers clamped around the curve of your hips as he held you in place, slamming every last inch of himself deep into your core.

Ever touch-starved yet wanting nothing more than to surrender to the sensation of you, Mr. Crawling continued to drive his cock into your needy cunt, soon wrapping his winding arms around your body and holding on tight. He bucked intensely as you soon succumbed to breathless whimpers, incoherently begging for his name. Equally desperate whines rolled off the slip of his tongue as he found his lips pressed into the crook of your neck, dampening your skin with sloppy wet kisses—as many as he could give.

It felt overwhelming for you in a way to be worshipped like this but you did your best to keep up with such intensity, especially as the warm, tingling pleasure built up inside of you, too. You held on just as tight as he did, your hand seeking out his own—fingers weaving into his bony digits—interlocking and squeezing tight the closer you got, your grip and otherwise clenching need tightening simultaneously. To feel him losing himself inside of you was dare you admit, addicting, feeling him completely fill and stretch you out leaving you almost dizzied from the impaling force.

Mr. Crawling, like you, soon surrendered to the rolling bliss from the flick of his hips, feeling a surging warmth mount and rise, encouraging him to lose himself to the searing heat of the moment and you. Encircling your body in a possessive hug, he suddenly began to mutter out a new word in a strained mantra, again and again.

Given how desperate he seemed to be, you understood the meaning as ‘close’, especially as his actions grew more strained and less controlled.

“Close, close, close,” he repeated.

It didn’t take his chased release to catch up as his hips grew to a stutter, rutting out one final pump before melting into you. Mr. Crawling cried into your neck, spilling out the entirety of his overflowing love, feeling the pent-up devotion trickle down your thighs—yet not letting you move away—still retaining his claim on you.

Instead, he kept you even closer than before, not allowing you to part from him ever again (despite understanding your yearning for rest).

Words were never the problem, it seemed.

Mr. Crawling would have always found a way to… connect with you.

[chloesimaginationthings]

Vanny finally meets FNAF tape girl in person...

[derpycatsu]

based on this tweet by @fairy527 :3 thought they were all similar in the way things went with their partners so i drew them together

[heritageposts]

Save Youssef and Nour

This is Nour, a seven-year-old girl from Gaza. Before the genocide, she was like any other girl her age. Her first year of school was about to begin. She was excited; her parents had just bought her a brand-new backpack and she couldn't wait to show it off!

Just two weeks into her first school year, Israel launched its genocidal offensive on Gaza. Nour's education, along with her childhood, came to an abrupt end.

This is how Nour, and her brother Youssef (12), are living now:

Despite months of campaigning, Youssef and Nour's parents have only managed to raise a little over €7,000. With temperatures already dropping, they're increasingly worried about how they will survive another winter in Gaza. The tent they're living in leaks when it rains, and Salah, the father of the family, has been struggling to secure medicine for his epilepsy.

Initially, the family started the fundraiser with hopes of rebuilding. However, after multiple displacements and several near-death experiences, they’ve made the difficult decision to begin saving for an evacuation.

If you can, please consider donating so that Youssef and Nour may have some small semblance of security again!

[Vetting info / Art by @virfujiwara]

- Donation link (GFM)

Currently at: €7,868 / €70,000

[lotus-pear]

learning to love

[ppeanutz]

this has probably happened in the marvel canon hasn't it.

order a commission on my ko-fi!

[mangoshibi]

He practiced those faces before