#love yapping

[brainrot-goes-brrrrrr]

What’s your favorite character to draw? I hope you have a great day/night!!!

I'm absolutely biased when I say that Tyler is my favorite to draw. As of right now, he's my favorite character in the series, so that makes sense. He's also just the most aesthetically pleasing to look at, for me at least, so it makes him easy to draw. He's actually the first character I drew when making fanart for sbg :D (and the first character I've ever made fanart for)

I just have a soft spot for characters who initially seem like assholes but are, in reality, sweethearts with a good amount of depth to them.

I will say that my least favorite to draw is Ben 💀. I love him, I really do, but his design to me is... boring.

I might do a little drawing of how I think each character would look in my style :)

[heeambi]

I really need to yap more in here >_<!!

[areyouwell]

hi!! hope you’re good!! i just finished phobophobia (which is a masterpiece that i need to go back and like all the chapters) and im just about to start your new series!!

i have a bit of a random question. how does rowan and mc’s bond work? can she communicate with him all the time? or is he unable to communicate now she’s back to life?

i also have another random question. did you ever picture face claims for your ocs (morgana, rowan, erin etc)? the way you describe them is so well written and it’s like i can picture them in my head!! ❤️

im so sorry for asking so many questions! I just loved the series so much!! i will be processing everything that happened for the next week bc WOW!! a work of art!!! ❤️

heyooooo! thank you!! im still reeling over Phobophobia honestly, and i'm so happy to get the chance to yap about it 💕, i hope you enjoy the new series too!!

AAAAAA I'M SO HAPPY YOU ASKED!!!! OKAY SO, when they were imprisoned together within MC's mutation, yes they absolutely could communicate, and spent most of the time arguing with each other. it was less physically and more disembodied voices through feeling, if that makes any sense? it would be much more intention based, like they could feel the other's argument rather than hear it. but now she's back, Rowan's gone, completely. She can feel his soul, but it's now assimilated with hers and she can't hear him the same way she could. occasionally she'd get a pulse of something that she didn't think belonged to her, but that would be it (rip Rowan)

as for face claims, kind of? like with Rowan i didn't really see someone and was like yes that's absolutely Rowan, he very much came from my head. Erin i sort of pictured someone i used to know in primary school, but if she had badly dyed bright green hair and also wasn't ten years old. Morgana, i hate to say it, was loosely based off myself, or at least her hair was, because i'm also a curly red-head, the rest of her features were more or less things i wish i had, like the ability to pull of wicked winged eyeliner 😭 but Todd i just kind of pictured generic hot old man vibes, Kreva was an amalgamation of a few typical sick looking characters in media, like i wanted the frail, gangly look of Viktor from Arcane combined with the tall, creepily disproportionate vibes of the 1922 depiction of Nosferatu but give him a pair of round wire glasses. so to answer your question, both yes and no 🥲

PLEASE DON'T APOLOGISE FOR ASKING QUESTIONS ABOUT THIS FIC!!!! im a serial yapper, i will yap for HOURS about the things i love and especially works i'm proud of. don't worry i'm still processing everything that happened and i wrote it 💀 but thank you so much!!!! i'm still shocked over how many people first of all even read it, and second of all enjoyed it. and asks like this one honestly makes all the painstaking proofreading and frantic redrafting worth it 💕

[urfriendlywriter]

specific tropes in romance that always heal something in me that it never broke

like, forehead kisses, soft love confessions, peppering kisses all over the lover's face. promises that are kept, hands those are held with a gentle love, and hugs that engulf the heart too.

or when they rest their head on your chest, or lean on you for support.

"your tears kill me," kinda thing. or when a sunshine character finally cries and bawls their entire life's hurt out into their comfort grumpy character (plus point, if the grump feels guilty thinking if they had done something to trigger this emotional outburst)

communication. no matter hard the topic is, how big your differences are.

listening to the other person yap

admiring their facial features and seeing not just the outer structure but the person that they really are.

them getting angry on ur behalf

cradling each other in hugs basically

feeling emotional walls break when you're with that one person particularly

gentle communication. yearning to do more for your lover (!!!!)

affectionate smiles and eyes crinkling with a smile that's directed specially at you.

finding their laugh contagious.

the feeling of being accepted, despite flaws and all

silent domestic acts like being in the kitchen together, dressing up together, them drying ur hair while u sit between their legs

occasionally stolen kisses

or one deep kiss that just lights your world and fulfills your soul and heart.

sleepily nuzzling into each other!!

reaching for each other despite being asleep, with mumbled endearments and whispers of need!!!

laughter coming easily by their side, like happiness is just another day to day thing (this can also be about self love. when u truly love urself and prioritize your own rights and cherish the fact that you're you. happiness becomes beautiful even in solitude)

their fingers buried deep in yo- OOPS.?! :)

[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.

[o3o-lapd-o3o]

(any time after the events of the vengeance saga & ithaca saga)

*under the ocean in poseidon's palace*

poseidon: *talking with amphitrite*

poseidon: i wouldn't wish that upon my worse enemy!

poseidon: *pauses and feels phantom pains from his old impalement wounds/scars*

poseidon: *eye twitching* ...unless of course...we're talking about my enemy, odysseus.

poseidon: *looking up at the ocean's surface from his underwater palace*

poseidon: fuck you odysseus, you know what you did!

amphitrite: ...

amphitrite: *sighs*

*meanwhile on ithaca*

odysseus: *yapping away with penelope whilst on a walk through the palace grounds*

odysseus: so then i said "cause i don't even have to kill you, i just have to avoid yo-"

odysseus: *violently sneezes*

penelope: ...

penelope: are you feeling unwell, my love?

odysseus: no i'm fine.

odysseus: i just get the feeling im being bad-mouthed...again

odysseus: *turns head and glares at the ocean*

[shizuhanaart]

returning to normal

[joejhang]

it's been said before but the FUNNIEST thing about the "intricate and endless daddy issues" line is the fact that's it's not even true. like neil straight up made it up for the plot™ like no wonder kevin was freaking the fuck out because "kevin and i talk about your intricate and endless daddy issues all the time" and they don't??? kevin was probably TWEAKING OUT and neil just kept going.

[popuplee]

the thing that drives me sooo crazy about the jinx/isha/cait/vi confrontation is that for vi, it was a lose-lose situation. either caitlyn misses & accidentally hits isha (child witnesses enforcer violence), or caitlyn kills jinx in front of a child who cares for her (child STILL witnesses enforcer violence). Either situation parallels vi’s own past trauma. In that moment, it wasnt about jinx (at least not entirely). It was about vi’s catalyst for violent change about to be recreated and forced upon this child. Caitlyn said she understood how vi felt seeing her parents die, but demonstrated in this moment that she doesnt and literally CANT. caitlyn has never been on the other side or enforcer violence. the child didnt even compute to her—isha was just an obstacle to be avoided, not a person that will carry this experience forever. But vi’s been on the wrong end of a gun. She understood that no matter what, no matter who got hit, if she allowed caitlyn to shoot, vi would be recreating her own trauma. And THATS why she stopped cait

[lizardkingeliot]

That can’t be all there is.

[waterthatsmoe]

"Yuu?"

"Is this a joke?"

"Yuu repy back"

"Reply*"

"Yuu, this isn't funny"

"Reply back or I'm coming straight to ramshackle"

06 : 49 undelivered

"Yuu where are you"

"Yuu reply back"

"Please"

07 : 09 undelivered

Part 3 [next] | Part 2 | Part 1 [prev]

[abstractfrog]

Happy 1 year anniversary to Mr Sherlock Holmes! Here's a litttleee celebratory comic from me

[ayilings]

do we fuck with black parade hatsune miku [wip] 💀🖤

[teddybeartoji]

thinking about the messiest makeout with satoru. you're all over each other, on top of each other – groping and grabbing and pushing and pulling. you breathe into each other's mouths, you melt into one another. you're forging together.

you suck on his tongue and he moans at the sensation, he licks into your mouth and you tug at his roots. your lips are covered in spit, it's fucking everywhere but you don't care. beads of sweat form at your temple as the temperature of the room rises – the air is thick and dense, forcing you both deeper and deeper into the mattress below you.

tangled limbs and entwined tongues, your hearts race side by side – you feel him smile against you, into you, and have no other option than to do the same. you move as one, no longer two different people but an living organism instead.

[angel-fruitcake]

there will never be another accidental love story as insane or profound as destiel i fear