#i am. very normal

[amazingmsme]

thinking about Curt getting absolutely destroyed in a mock interrogation by his sadistic ass partner rn. Curt will not back down to something so “childish” and Owen is not letting him up easy, that’s for sure. Poor guy is not getting out of this one but no one said he was having a bad time either lol

I just like to think of them having fun and being silly (albeit kinda intense, that’s just their vibe tho lmao). Hope ur doing well!

THIS IS LITERALLY ME RN OK I AM SO NOT NORMAL ABOUT THEM!

Still can’t fucking believe our first impression of these guys comes from a mock interrogation that ended with tickling. They’re fucking iconic, none of us are on their level. We WISH we were, but we aren’t

I stand by my claim that Curt only “caved” so quickly is because there was someone else in the room & he still had to finish the job, so they couldn’t play around as much as they’d like

The stars aligned perfectly so we could have a canon tickle interrogation scene with the gay spies. (Ok but I’m giving all of them the hard side eye because yeah this scene maybe a coincidence, but tickle me wiggly??? Is there something they’re trying to tell us??? Dear god do they know???) it’s so cute & silly & way more flustering than it has any right to be! Like the way he slowly pulled the feather out from his jacket, bitch do that again & see what happens! I will just blush & curl into a ball

But that is literally canon, Curt doesn’t want to break under Owen’s torture anyway, so he absolutely refuses to give him the satisfaction of making him crack from something as stupid & silly as tickling. Like the longest he’s lasted is around 4 or 5 hours ok the man is STUBBORN! & Owen loves taking his sweet ass time with Curt, & he really shows no mercy. Downright ruthless bastard & that’s the way we like him!

Hng I really should write more interrogation fics with them, they go hard

& I’m doing good, thanks for asking! Hope you’re doing good too!

[ghosts-and-blue-sweaters]

I got recommended a very intriguing Wilbur Soot clip, watched it, and decided it was intriguing enough to track down the stream it was from.

Problem: I had no clue how to find this stream.

No longer a problem, however, because I was able to track down the stream in less than a minute purely by looking at what outfit Wilbur was wearing in the thumbnail okeeeeeee

[catmask]

the 'all marriage is gay as far as im concerned' except its me watching a man and woman character in a show i like and accidentally saying 'theyre so gay' because i literally forget thats not the word for romance because to me all romance is gay

[thenightisland]

people trying to insist a fandom is tiny when it /only/ has a few thousand works on ao3 meanwhile my current fandom is a sixteen book series and has several hundred fewer works than goncharov, a movie that, and i cannot stress this enough, doesn’t even exist

[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.

[secondbeatsongs]

for anyone too young to know this: watching The Truman Show is a vastly different experience now, compared to how it was before youtube and social media influencers became normal

before it was like, "what a horrifying thing to do to a human being! to take away their autonomy and privacy, all for the sake of profits! to create fake scenarios for them to react to, just to retain viewership! to ruin their happiness just so some corporate entity could harvest money from their very humanity! how could anyone do something so evil?"

and now it's like, "ah, yeah. this is still deeply fucked up, but it's pretty much what every influencer has been doing to their kids for a decade now. probably bad that we've normalized this experience"

[housecow]

i WISH t shirts looked like this when they’re tight but i gotta hold them to make that happen. anyways, another before n after :3

[theerurishipper]

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First <- Part 18 <- Part 19 -> Part 20

Masterpost

[kermit-coded]

there's something about the fact that charles said he never finished reading the myth of orpheus and eurydice. he references it and yet he never finished it. he looked back, not out of fear but because edwin needed to be seen. he got edwin back. they made it out of hell. he never finished the story. he is not orpheus and edwin is not eurydice.

[ghosted-jazz]

I like to think breaking the canary curse via dying in the void had some effects on Lizzie

[heartorbit]

figure skating set right now please. thanks

[soranker]

touched up and colored some old dunmeshi doodles from earlier in the year ^_^

[goodpvppy]

let me rub myself hazy on your thigh as you work and pretend like im not there except petting my hair from time to time… i want to rut against you and feel your resolve crumble until you just have to pay attention to me and ruin me

[isatartdump]

i;m a lesbian but i am so insanely attracted to your isabeau it's unreal. please keep posting him i fall in love more every time

Please keep faling in love with Isabeau. He's almost like a muse to me. He always looks divine

Sunkissed. The universe itself stops to stare. Gods I love this guy.

Now have an Isabeau sketch blast because I love him almost as much as I love Loop

And for last- Isa with glasses...

[sassaffrassa]

It was a kiss between a man and his wife, and when it was over, the king closed his eyes and rested his forehead against the hollow of the queen’s shoulder, like a man seeking respite, like a man reaching home at the end of the day.

hi, i'm very cool and normal about these books, don't worry about me

on ao3 here

[speremint]

Valen in formal wear 😳💕