#my record thus far is:

[essektheylyss]

I know I joked about DVDs but in all seriousness, I'm really glad that there's an option for watching VODs that isn't on Twitch and YouTube. It's been mentioned a few times today, but both of the interfaces of these platforms have been increasingly enshittified. I simply do not use YouTube anymore because of how horrid the interface is. I caught up on campaign 2 entirely on YouTube (and sometimes via podcast) in 2019 with no issues, but it is straight up maddening trying to use it now, and I don't know that I would have made it through the campaign if I was trying to catch up today.

I absolutely understand being tired of additional streaming services and I am absolutely in the same boat, but I also don't know how many people really recognize how gutted media distribution has become in the last ten years in the name of convenience. We all kind of realize it, but it's hard to grasp just how extensive it is. We can talk about independent business choices separately, and we should, but when the only platforms on which you have the option to distribute your work are at best frustrating to use and at worst hostile to human life, when monetization services can censor anyone they please with little explanation and have been cracking down on any content they arbitrarily deem inappropriate, when it is not clear that centralized conglomerate social media sites will continue to exist in the next year let alone decade, it is genuinely crucial for independent creators to start building alternative avenues of distribution that they control now.

[elfiepike]

I'm in book 3 of thousand autumns (7s editions) & I was having a lot of fun but I am in fact at the point where I must know: when are these guys in love. when does that happen. DOES it happen?? typically I prefer a much more pervasive sense of "these guys are freaks about each other" & thus far these guys ARE freaks (complimentary) but they don't seem to be especially freaks about each other outside of the whims of fate.

[luna-the-cretar]

*starting to write the Gid parents fic* how the fuck am I gonna write Yona, they’re all so inconsistent— *realizes that Yona is basically how the media sees Texas* oh. Wait, this is gonna be easy then

[red-moon-at-night]

(Almost) Every time Aeneas shouts for Paris to get down from the mast in What Could Go Wrong: A Compilation (with bonus Paris falling off the ship and screaming at the end because why wouldn't I also include that it's hilarious)

[msmc-796-official]

+ Good morning, Heaven's Fury!!

+ Pardon the brief radio silence, I was bogged down trying to pack, prepare, and decipher the tedious legal jargon around my 'transfer'; That, and I was not prepared for my Milkrun. Not sure what I was expecting, but I haven't been this tired in years. + Fantastic news, however! As of tonight, I am shipping out to join MSMC's 148th detachment, "Aftermarket Brokers"; I saddled up with a more R&D-centric detachment in an effort to make the most of my specializations. It should be a nice balance of ground deployment, prototype development, and study. Of course, there's still the brief training window before I can actually meet, let alone deploy with, my squadron- but my application was picked up by 148th almost immediately.

+ No more putting it off, I guess. Now's the time for that last, big step; Moving in. + Thank you all for your inspiration, and for the motivation to make this jump- I hope to make you proud.

+ (PS; I have a bottle of Kahlua to send to Slipshod, I think I owe them one, don't ask. Had to try and guess what they might like; I'll send that over once I'm settled.)

+ Thank you, again, -- "GRAY"

// Congratulations, Gray! The 148th are a very talented squadron when it comes to engineering, they're very lucky to have snagged you so quickly. I'll have your welcome gifts sent over to their hangar, so you can access them right away after you get moved in.

+ aw shit, you got me kahlua? man, I haven't had that since HORUS - I'll look forward to drinking that. (one of my old hacker buddies liked white russians a whole lot; we used to experiment with my vodka collection and see what we could come up with that didn't taste entirely awful.) oh, and you're very welcome for the help ;)

> Congratulations on joining MSMC officially, Gray. While I myself have not personally interacted with the members of MSMC-148, I have it on good authority that they're a very well put together team. I think you'll be a good fit with them - they wouldn't have picked up your application so quickly if they didn't think so, too.

+ yeah, congrats on getting in with the R&D squad - they're good pals of mine. rumor has it some of their older members were privy to our side of the zheng license back in the day - might wanna ask around and see if they still have any of the original blueprints. also, if you see him around, tell Tinkerbell (his actual callsign is Tinker, but I'm not gonna let him off that easy for beating me at poker) that it's his turn to host game night; drinks are on me since I lost last week

// You've really come into your own since we first met you, Gray; it's an honor to get to welcome both you and GRAE to the team. We're all incredibly proud of you, and look forward to piloting alongside you someday very soon. And hey, if you ever need guidance on where to go next, or just want to chat - our hangar doors (and our inbox) are always open. You know where to find us.

+ ditto that. you did good, kid - welcome aboard!

> Congratulations again, Gray. From all of us.

Yours among the stars, forever and always!

-- Angel, Slipshod, & Lockbreaker

[crmsndragonwngss]

Silent wake as the day is burning

Slip back into my silhouette

I don’t know when the trains are running

Get me back home to hide away

[keeps-ache]

i finally have to block a fandom tag bfhsv 💥

[autistickaitovocaloid]

Stuck in development hell for reasons outside my control help lol

[crest-of-gautier]

my reload recordings are so embarrassing and funny. ryoji shows up and im like (incomprehensible, ear-piercing squealing noises of raw live authentic lizz reaction). i love having my excitement on recording. it is so funny to me. i love that these little guys make me happy.

[sunny-salamander]

I am so normal about him.

Mostly a study for line art, shadows, and color, so background got ignored.

[kyatra]

are u hyped for the next madoka magica movie

YES

[dankovskaya]

I love that he tells her to look away when he throws a flash grenade too <3 Peace and love

[rucow]

(WIP incoming! beware of very sketchy sketch!!)

i love that my poto brainrot is so severe that i gave one of my ocs a whole new design inspired by the phantom,,, except its light & sun themed instead of Dark and Emo like our favourite sewer skrunkle,,,

[casquecest]

AHH, MY FRIEND AND I ARE JAMMIN' OUT TO HANSON'S MIDDLE OF NOWHERE ON OUR WAY BACK FROM THE BREWERIES, AND I STILL REMEMBER EVERY WORD, LMAOOO.

[galacticlamps]

no idea why but for some reason i feel like the next episode of dr who's gonna be one i'll especially want to be caught up for? again no clue why i feel that way since i'm currently behind - it's not even like i've seen the teaser for it yet or anything - but fwiw the last time i had that feeling was before fugitive of the judoon, and love or hate that episode i'd say i was right about needing to experience it in real time. i've never been one to care about spoilers much but i do very clearly remember making a point of staying off dr who related internet spaces until i got home from work the day that one dropped (and having any feelings that remind me of pre-pandemic 2020 is already a trip in itself wow) & i kinda think im about to wind up doing the same this weekend (since i already know im not gonna be able to watch it right away)

[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.