#I LOVE CROSS

[sylensombrr]

[swiftmitsu]

…..

HELP WHAT.

i love this image so much omfg.

[m1lkt00th]

[ID: Digital drawing of multiple characters in christmas outfits. Napyrus is holding Red. Toast is glaring at Hazel. Cross is talking to someone off screen. Cherish is talking with Pepper. Plum is there. /End ID.]

I FORGOT TO POST THIS

Uhhh Pepper and Toast belongs to @beepr84 @blazetale

[heckthis-heckallofthis]

How I think things will change once Squad Leader (King Killer) retires/gets transferred/promoted to a higher position and Cross has to take his place as leader.

He BAWLS his eyes out. What do you MEAN his beloved squad leader won't be with them anymore??? He cries so hard you'd think our King Killer died but in reality he just isn't leading anymore

Once he finishes bawling (he's still sniffling and everything, he's just not crying as hard) he gives him so many gifts and apologizes for so many things.

2145 can probably visit him anytime he wants, maybe he congratulates him? He's okay with it.

Helper T is SO thankful he doesn't have to deal with that gorilla anymore (under a different helper T cell now). He hates that idiot.

HT would probably hand the title to just anyone, as long as he doesn't have to see that gorilla anymore. I think a lot of the seniors in the Squad would definitely vote for Cross to be leader (He loves training, is moderately prepared for scenarios, and also knows a lot of leading things because of how adamant he is to help King Killer)

HT finally gives them a budget. For no reason in particular. King Killer hears about it and he's so annoyed. "So the second I'm out of his hair he decides to give my squad a good budget?!"

Cross is definitely forced to be more mature now. Once he sees how much naive T cells in the squad rely on him he can't mess around anymore.

3033 once tried to start up an argument with him he just stopped in the middle of his sentence (it was calling him an idiot repetitively) and just ended it right there and then. 3033 hates it.

I think just to make him suffer more the other senior T cells are moved out of his squad to others like the Pharynx district (their Squad Leader just got transferred to the stomach and they don't have anyone experienced enough to help) so all the KT cells under him are freshly baked and got no idea how to deal with paperwork/the various conveniences around the station

At first he isn't very used to being called Squad Leader. Forgets for like 3 minutes until he's like "why isn't the squad leader responding? That guy has been calling for him for a while now… wait. IM THE SQUAD LEADER."

He worries so much about them, every time he's not at the station he checks his phone religiously and regularly messages them to see if they're alright. "Everything okay at the station? Nothing's bad happening right?"

This was enhanced 10 fold when the area the squad was tasked with protecting got a viral infection on his off-day but they didn't want to bother their squad leader so they tried dealing with it themselves. Cross head in hands and finally understands why King Killer was so strict with everything especially communication and preparation.

His situation is more or less the same to squad leader except the difference is that Cross has "emotional support" (3033) (he still makes fun of him but they're kinda friends now)

Helper T makes him clean his office and he also finally realizes why Squad leader hated his guts (Helper T doesn't really have an opinion on him, just another subordinate to him)

At first the T cells who have seen what Cross was like before being squad leader never took him that seriously, but the newer T cells are a little intimidated (because of the reputation King killer left behind)

Maybe at some point they brush him off so much he needs to call in help to get them to start taking training seriously because T cells need to be prepared everyday.

He does learn to speak in a scary and commanding tone but the things he says aren't commanding nor scary at all ("UP NAIVE T CELLS, LETS GET TRAINING!!" or "KEEP UP THE GOOD WORK, HYDRATE YOURSELVES!!")

Once he finally gets that scary demeanour down it's hard for him to talk to his Naive T cells normally, thinks he's gonna be the scary squad leader like his before

Asks 3033 if he's hard to talk to (while low-key crying)

"Hard to talk to? You're flooding the room with your tears in front of me." (He is a bad person to ask because 3033 has seen him cry, MADE him cry, and seen how stupid he is)

All of King Killer's friends do take him seriously tho. IM1235 is good friends with him and thinks he's super awesome. 2145 doesn't talk to him much but he doesn't mind him at all, he's just glad he's way less awkward than his old squad leader. Eosinophil is still terrified of him, Dendritic cell doesn't trust him enough for his plushies but is willing to help him with anything else. M cell sometimes still treats him younger than he actually is, he's trying his best to remember he's technically his peer, but it's hard when he's seen what he was like as his junior.

[veiiledtears]

am i shipping Val with Cross? yes. why? idk, i think they'd be cute.

[nnobodoodles]

Huh.

So I randomly remembered Croc is pretty much Italian.

[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.

[lunarwednesday]

Kindly Miquella... I see you've thrown away... Something you should not have... Under any circumstances.

[hinamie]

long way home

[ewe-why]

Do not separate.

Also there is this extra:

[vmpyrgal]

Animal crossing cds and dvds ~ 🤍

[ruporas]

need to exist in your warmth (id in alt)

[deep-space-lines]

IT'S FINALLY FUCKING DONE. I'M FINALLY FREE

UNTIL FRAUD COMES OUT

Tumblr shrinks it down pretty bad so please. please. I am begging you. look at the full sized image and zoom in. This art piece made my friends worried for my mental health I need someone to witness the amount of detail and effort I put into this

also the original sketch under the cut bc I think comparing them is really funny

[m1lkt00th]

im kind of hoping cross’ whole “killed his family and friends” thing gets explored more ngl.

my memory might be failing me but cross hasnt seen his family up to this point outside of nightmare shapeshifting and his own memories in episode what ? 6 ? which was honestly, really cool and i liked it. cross is obviously still processing what he did and how his entire life up to that point was some weird “this is your destiny and this is your role” kind of thing even if he isnt aware that xgaster was having prophetic visions ???? did that ever get explained actually ? xgaster has a purple monster soul that allows him to overwrite the very make up of a universe and also has future vision

i’ve read stories where cross’ past is brushed aside in a “well, THAT happened 😹😹” kind of way where the murder time trio just make fun of him for having less LV or something. there is also the other side where it’s talked about A LOT but those are mainly shown in what i like to call, “Cross Bullying” fics (which are also usually vent fics, ironically (?) enough) so it makes sense.

thinking about, in comparison to the murder time trio (and depending on the multiverse but thats not what im looking at rn) cross killed his family because he THOUGHT he could bring them back, which is horrifying. just “i’ll hurt you now to help you later” kind of thing. dust is.. interesting. he still has a ‘piece’ of his brother with him at all times. horror’s brother is still ALIVE 😭😭 and killer appears to have disconnected theirself from their original ‘persona’ so to speak. they dont even have anything on them to indicate “my brother” theyre just separate. nightmare is an entire essay on his own but they still see their brother sometimes (even if it’s only fighting)

JUST ??? CROSS. MAN IDK cross was in a weird position during the final episode of xtale like what else could he have done really </3

[jollymalt]

animal crossing drawings part 2!

[cyborgrhodey]

regina spektor is a violent zionist, but i don't think it's constructive or honest at all for people to be like "well her art was always bad anyway." some terrible people have made great art. This idea that artists with unsavory morals can't make good art (1) only feeds into some people's mindset that if they dislike something, that MUST mean there is something ideologically wrong with it, and (2) some people then take longer to realize the true colors of their favorite artists because... good artists can't be ethically bad right?? and so they hang on to their faves and pretend they are so righteous and defend their every move when sometimes. sometimes you just gotta accept that your favorite art was made by somebody you don't agree with, and you have to identify how much you are willing to support someone like that and what lines you have that can't be crossed