#eepy time for the me

[cadathecat]

clean table cloth.. for me??

[wolfythewitch]

I haven’t watched gravity falls so I may be so wrong but this is his vibe to me

[allthedrugsforcreativity]

[skeletonlover69]

what did you think they were doing (•ิ_•ิ)

[crabsnpersimmons]

i like to tuck my sun and moon into bed when i get out of it, but after seeing your chibi sun and moon, i think of them every time i do now hehe!!

ohhhhh this is precious! thank you for sharing with me! blowing them kisses!! sleep well, little plushies ❤️❤️❤️

the minute i saw your photo i dropped everything to draw this:

shhh

they eepy

[withdenim]

Lullaby <3

[eggmansplatformboots]

hes all cosy :3

[cut-aare]

[snailfen]

the rather energetic meeting

[not-so-casualenjoyer]

Simon (trying to be) casual about the mask

By that I don’t mean he’d take it off whenever you asked. Of course not. You have to have very, very special privileges to see his face, and even each of the 141 members practically had to pry it off him once he agreed to let them see.

Simon’s mask is what makes him Ghost. It’s what makes him able to slip into work mode. It’s what holds him together when he needs it and what lets him block out everything else and pretend it’s never happened. The mask allows Simon to assume another identity.

He puts it on at night after his nightmares, when he feels like the world is crumbling down around him. It holds everything together, making sure his scars won’t tear apart at the seams, letting him find reprieve in his second skin.

The mask is an essential, immovable part of who Simon is. Who Ghost is. And he doesn’t take that thing off for just anyone.

Simon is an intimidating, bloodsoaked, unadmittedly sad, broken man. All these things, coupled with lesions on emotions beat into him by his father, make for a not so smooth approach to communication.

By which I mean, almost none at all.

Which isn’t a fault of his own. He likes to shove everything down, and almost nobody he knows is willing to risk his temper enough to dredge it back up again. So he gets to keep it locked away in a tight little bottle. He’s never had to express himself, communicate with another person, explain the reasoning behind his sometimes irrational actions (and he is not willing to admit it may be akin to the fact that he doesn’t quite know why he does them himself sometimes).

But when you came around, it jolted his entire world.

You, little firecracker you, who doesn’t flinch when he glares or snaps and pushes him to explain until he wants to scream his tar-soaked lungs out in newfound frustration.

You’re so different. You don’t fear his wrath. You meet it with a firm hand and a possibly more stubborn attitude. The team has never seen someone who can go head to head with Simon, and they don’t think they’ve ever seen him get so irritated either.

You push him until he snaps, spitting his reasoning and thoughts to you, explaining with a growled “I don’t know, okay?!” when you push him too far. You bend him on topics that make him itch until he breaks, and then you soften. You lower your voice, sweeten your tone, comfort him with words that make his stomach churn with how kind they are, and drag each word of explanation and processing out of him with coaxing gentleness.

You learn more about him than he intends over time.

You learn about the scars that cut through him–his mind, his heart, sometimes his flesh body. Sometimes when you look at him, he thinks you can see them, the slashes and cuts that mangle his body. His gnarled heart, his twisted mind.

That doesn’t scare him the way it would if it were anybody else. It doesn’t scare him because no matter what he shows you, you always come back. You always learn more, and you always show him that syrupy, worried look whenever he bears a new mark to you, physical or not.

So he wonders, in spite of himself, what would you think of his face? His cleft lip, his scarred cheek, his cut brow? What would you think of his eternally crooked nose, his drawn brows?

He hopes the scars on his face won’t stop you from giving him that sweet look, because none of his scars have before.

Simon isn’t quite sure how to integrate his bare face into the equation.

He wishes he didn’t have to go through all the muss and fuss, could just take it off with no overdramatic theatrics. He just wants to rip the bandaid off as quickly as possible.

So, that’s what he does. Saunters into the rec room one day while it’s just you, completely maskless.

He casually walks to the kitchen counter (despite how he thinks he might be having a heart attack from how hard his heart is beating against his ribcage) to make some tea.

You glance over your shoulder when you notice his presence, and–

“...Simon?”

“Yeah?”

“Did you forget your mask?”

He turns the knob on the stove to light a fire under the kettle.

“No,” He grunts.

You blink at him, speechless, for lack of a better word, trying to process this situation and the face in front of you.

It’s almost surreal, seeing it all come together. Those familiar eyes, the glance of jaw and lip, his light brows, furrowed down. Now connected with the rest of his face, a crooked nose and a gnarled cheek, lines in his forehead from scowling so much.

“What?” He mutters from his spot at the counter, seeing how you’ve twisted around to stare at him over the back of the couch.

“Nothing,” You say quickly, turning back to your phone with a grin.

a/n: haha hey guys sorry i fell off the face of the earth! i do that sometimes ANYWAYS gonna try to write some more 😭 i have little thing in the works rn but it takes me at least three days to start writing literally anything beyond a base idea so

[sad-leon]

Something about a big leo hugging a little leo in the mindscape just hits different

this time flavored with @remedyturtles's Death Wish boys!

i care about them so much lakdjfalsdjflskd if i had the spoons, there would be a second animatic made already, but alas, school >:(

[cadathecat]

about to go nap,, my favoritest thing to do of all time..

[mikichko]

⛔ this blog is 18+ !! minors and ageless blogs please dni ⛔ blame this tiktok. unedited. soap x fem!reader.

it starts off with shaky footage, the background blurring as the camera moves. a little more shuffling before the phone settles at the ground level focused on your beautiful baby girl bracketed by johnny's thick legs.

he sucks his teeth, pointing a finger accusingly at the camera, "I'll tell ye one thing lass, the stubbornness? not from me"

the girl gurgles, kicking her feet happily at the sound of her father's voice. soap lets out a soft sigh as he strokes her chubby cheek with a single caloused finger, "jus' like yer ma aye birdie?"

another set of kicks and a giggle as she pushes herself into his touch. he looks at the camera again, "been trying to teach this one to crawl, and she's full on refusing." soap sighs, hoisting birdie up onto her socked feet, "loves to bloody stand but won't even take a chance to crawl." birdie begins to bounce, cooing excitedly as she stretches the developing muscles of her knees.

"i can hear ye now, blaming me, a devoted da, but i swear she's just being outright stubborn." soap picks birdie again, "look I'll show ye, see here I'm going to put her in her crawling position," birdie looks happily at the camera as her dad maneuvers her around, "but look at how she gets if I let her go"

birdie stays for a moment, eyes wide and observant as she looks around from her new vantage point, before inevitably beginning to fall. she falls ever so slowly, her little muscles trying their best to stay up, before you hear the dull thud as her tiny little forehead makes contact on the floor. behind her soap opens his mouth in a silent scream before rubbing both hands at his face.

birdie breathes heavily as he hoists her back to sitting position, "birdie, is nae a plank sesh! we're trying to get ye to crawl! how're you 'sposed to walk if ye cannae crawl yet?"

birdie giggles at her dad, small hand grabbing at his face. soap catches her hand between two fingers and lowers his face so that her tiny hand is holding to the scruffy side of his cheek. she coos at the next texture, hand moving between patting and rubbing. soap nods, "aye aye, I know it's hard but ye got to do hard things to get to the good things. cannae have you givin' up so easily. gots to get you crawling before ma gets home."

birdie pays him no mind, focused solely on the contrast of the smooth skin and the scratchy beard. soap closes his eyes for minute, smiling gently before rubbing his face against her hand. finally his eyes flutter open, looking over at the camera

"miss ya. cannae wait til you're back with us."

[crybaby-bkg]

“I thought I was supposed to be the old person in this relationship,” Toji’s voice rings out in the previously quiet atmosphere, makes your head whip up in surprise. your concentration is broken from your prior engagement, hands slowing as you can’t help the smile that grows on your face at his teasing.

“Crocheting is for any and all ages,” you snark back at him, taking in how he watches the way your hands still move rhythmically—yarn over, pull through two loops, yarn over, pull through the last two, chain four, repeat. “You weren’t talking shit when I made you that sweater for your birthday.”

“Yeah I did, cause it itched like all hell.” He teases, makes you stick your tongue out at him playfully. he wore that sweater everywhere, to the point you damn near had to rip it off of him to put it in the wash. (the only times he didn’t wear it was when he knew he’d get it dirty while doing his…business ventures, which you didn’t mind. you’d rather he go a day without wearing it than googling how to wash blood out of a crocheted sweater that took you weeks to make.)

by the time you snap back to reality, Toji has already crossed the room, standing in front of where you sit cross legged in the comfy recliner he brought just for when you crocheted. it takes you aback by how quickly he moved, so silently, face suddenly warm as you look up at him from under your lashes. his eyes are dark, shadowed by his fringe, his hands in his pockets, his head cocked to the side. he looks devious.

“What are you cooking up in that pretty little head of yours?” you ask him, finally pausing your hands as you rest them in your lap. but Toji doesn’t let you, no. instead, he holds them back up in front of your face as he sinks to his knees in front of you, his smile wide and evil, pulling your legs from under you as he settles them on his shoulders.

“Don’t worry ‘bout it,” he croons to you, kissing the inner part of your knee, eyes still glued to your burning face. “Just keep doing your little old lady hobby while I busy myself.” without warning, he pulls your sleep shorts to the side, grinning when he’s met with the bare beauty that is your pussy. you shudder at the air that breezes past you, try to focus on chaining when he squeezes at your thighs with warm, veiny hands.

“But I can’t focus on counting my stitches when your face is between my legs.” you pout to him, hoping it’ll sway him to eat you out and then let you continue your project. but he doesn’t put his mouth on you until you start again, rewards you with a single wet, smacking kiss where you need it most.

“Guess you’re gonna have to learn how to multitask, sweetheart.” Toji grins before he licks a long stripe from taint to clit, your hands hiccuping in their movements. you can feel his smile more than see it, and come to the realization that he’s an evil, evil man. (you have to recount your stitches more than once, and even after you’re fucked out from euphoria and bliss, you still think you’re missing a few.)

[niinnyu]

Bonding over food, excellent.

Thank you for this @galaxynajma :D:D

[spirk-trek]

zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz