#posting perhaps

[puppygirl-perhaps]

Quick post tits while no one’s looking 👀

[word-count-bullet-count]

I've been seeing a lot of knight posts recently. pretty great

[crashstanding]

Reblog to give the person you reblogged from the ability to finish their WIPs

[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.

[mini-minish]

have you heard of that new hot spot in ba sing se 🍵

[a-caterpillars-world]

Something I find that people are missing when comparing Minecraft Story Mode to the Minecraft movie trailer is that, while MSM absolutely has its writing problems, compared to the Minecraft movie there's a level of sincerity that puts it well above. Where the Minecraft movie grimaces at itself and refuses to actually care about Minecraft as a game, MCSM treats the concept of "living in a Minecraft world" about as seriously as it can. Things like poofing into a pile of inventory when you die seems silly to us, as outsiders looking in, but to the characters who have been living under these rules their whole lives, they might as well be looking at a corpse. Meanwhile, it doesn't happen in the teaser trailer, but I'd bet anything that Minecraft death and item drops will be the subject of a quippy "well THAT just happened (⊙_⊙;)" joke and nothing more. If you can't at least take yourself seriously while exploring what life would be like under Minecraft rules, then you should not be making a movie about it.

[factual-fantasy]

Its finally here! The first look into my Amazing Digital Circus AU that I've been cooking up for the past few weeks! :))

The main thing that is obvious here is a lot of the abstracted members are back. Which is all thanks to Caines efforts in keeping the circus members happy and sane! More on that later I imagine- <XD

Some designs are going to be tweaked a bit further. Gummigoo and Kaufmo aren't quiiiiite where I want them yet.. but none the less! I hope this post made you laugh and I hope to post a bit more about them sometime soon! :))

[ssalballoon]

Mystra showed him the secrets beneath the veils. The gossamer veils first, draped across the Weave. The delicate veils next, draped across her body. 'Chosen One' she whispered, as she slipped them off completely.

poor gale :'(

- the dialogue is from ea gale's explanation about his folly

- i kinda like that she ended up looking like a mother-of-pearl inlay lacquerware!

- oh this was a subconscious choice, but Gale is sitting in seiza which is a posture for showing respect especially to elders. it's also known to be a painful position to sit in for extended periods of time, which is why it was sometimes used as a method of (morally dubious) punishment. however, experienced people can maintain this posture for much longer. food for thought :-)

- (edit: deleted this point bcs it didn't really make sense + detracted from the art a little;;)

[dateamonster]

"top ten movies about Girlhood" whose girlhood? whose girlhood? what kind of girl are these movies about? answer quickly.

[jujstarzzzzy]

painting I finished a few days ago wooo

[clover-mouse]

drew up a pretty quick design for a harengon swarmkeeper ranger/rogue for a oneshot i'm playing this weekend ♡ their name is fennel and they go by fenn (they think it sounds much cooler)

[puppygirl-perhaps]

Anybody else have FUN and HOT and COOL and SEXY FRIENDS? reblog if your friends are FUN AND HOT AND COOL AND SEXY!

[sharpmouth]

Mansfield Park, Jane Austen

[jackietaylorsghost]

BOTTOMS (2023) + text posts Dir. Emma Seligman

[percypaints]

Trump survived. Here's what will happen.

Every media, news outlet will be showing this photo. Not of a convicted felon who was impeached, who summoned violent terrorists to the white house, who sexually assaulted many women, but of a survivor, a hero.

And Trump will win 2024. The Alt Right and his MAGA supporters will see this and be more motivated than ever to vote Trump. Centrists will see this and think "the left is so much more extreme than the right" and vote Trump. Fuck, even liberals, after seeing Bidens disastrous debate performance might vote trump. In their eyes, he's a survivor now, he's strong now, he's worthy now. If you don't believe me, wait and see the top comments of news articles, the Reddit posts, the twitter quote tweets.

It isn't if Trump wins, it's when Trump wins, Ukraine is Fucked. Palestine is extra Fucked. And of course, America is absolutely Fucked.

I don't like Biden, but Americans have to remember: you live in a two-party system.

It is Biden or Trump.

And I'd much much rather an old husk of a man that has done so much good for trans rights, social policies, and human rights in general, than Trump. Yes, Biden has sent aids to Israel. Do you think Trump won't do the same? Do you think Trump won't do worse?

"Vote for a third party, they're both awful" you might say. Come on, be realistic. This is about holding the line against fascism. It is going to be way WAY easier to change the system when you're up against milk toast Joe than an actual dictator. So,

For the love of god, vote Biden in Novermber.

[louferrignojrofficial]

okayyyyyy