justcrafting

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#me with epitome #and like a few other words but I forgor them off the top of my head

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[sitting in the bathroom post-shower] Man I’m torn between not watching Witcher season four because Henry Cavill isn’t there anymore and watching it to see if Liam Hemsworth does Geralt justice because he did look cute with Anya and Joey. I also really want to see who they cast as R- [pauses] wait who are they casting as Regis? Has that been announced yet? [googles] LAURENCE FISHBURNE?!

#rambling at the crafting table #literal train of thought while in the bathroom #Damn now I’m watching s4 solely for Mr Fisburne as Regis #Witcher

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i love when tumblr lets me know that i reblogged from myself onto a sideblog. like "[insert sideblog name here] just reblogged from you!" and im like yeah i know them thats me

#rambling at the crafting table

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Daily affirmations

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my friends trapped a stoned person in a hyperbeam and forced them to watch bad food prep videos

#im in this one #four straight minutes of sobbing #it was so funny

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The comic version of a drabble from a long while ago of a scene in the TFTCTW Western AU! The original scene in question is below the read more! There's differences between the comic and the writing, and that's due in part to the length of time between the two - sometimes details are forgotten and new ones are added!

Bigby was aware of the persistent throbbing in his side before he regained full consciousness. It’s steady pulse wove it’s way into his dreams, creating the illusion that something sharp was sliding it’s way in and out and in and out over and over again into his belly and back. When he woke up it was with a gasp, a hiss through his teeth, and a pained groan. He tried to move, to shuffle away from the sensation, but it only made it worse, so he stilled. Then, as he struggled to swallow the thick saliva that had built up in his mouth with a dry throat, he slowly remembered what had happened - he was shot. But that was the only thing he really and truly did remember. The fight before, then the blinding pain… then fading in and out… then the sting of something being poured over the wound, his arms and legs pinned and leather shoved between his teeth, the burning pierce of a needle… then nothing. He swallowed again, the motion easier this time, and when his eyes opened it was to a smoky orange glow. He squinted up at the rocky, craggy roof above him, shadows dancing in strange shapes, before he realized he was in a cave. Bigby knew he couldn’t really move his body, so he let his head roll to the side, squinting further as he looked directly into the heart of the campfire several feet away from him. He looked away, the flames burned into his vision for a moment, and his eyes managed to rest on Fox. The outlaw seemed to have not noticed the sheriff’s awakening, if the way he continued to stare blankly into the fire was any indication. He might not have heard Bigby over the crackling of the fire or perhaps - as he was just now registering - the crescendoing rain echoing throughout the cavern, drowning out most other noises. Bigby would’ve called out to him, gotten his attention, but his pain and sleep-addled brain still hadn’t gotten to that point of function yet. It also didn’t help that he was too busy being confused by Fox’s state of undress. He wasn’t wearing a shirt. Bigby had seen shirtless men before. It wasn’t an uncommon sight, especially in the hotter months, but he hadn’t seen Fox shirtless before - or, well, shirtless and fully unbandaged. His torso was paler than his arms and face but still as lightly dusted with auburn hair that glowed like copper in the firelight. Strong arms crossed over his chest, hands gripping his shoulders, and even from this distance Bigby could tell he was shivering despite the fire burning brightly in front of him. He could also see scars, new and old, crisscrossing over his skin - the telltale markings of a man who lived on the edge every day of his life, dancing with death constantly. The branding on his neck stood out the most, shimmering wetly in the light of the fire like it was still fresh. A fresh bout of tremors shook the outlaws frame, and Bigby took note of the white-knuckle grip he had on his shoulders and the clouded, tired look in his eyes and he wondered just how long he’d been out and when the man had gotten some sleep. And again, why he didn’t have his shirt. Bigby tried to speak but all that came out was a croak, one that Fox still didn’t hear. So he swallowed and shifted onto his elbows - biting his lip on a pained yelp - and felt something fall off him. He glanced down to see the bandit’s red button up puddle into his lap. It’d been used to cover him like a blanket, it seemed. Something about that made something in his chest twist, but he ignored it in favor of trying to speak again. “You mean to tell me you don’t have any other shirts?” His rasp broke whatever spell was over the man, because his head snapped up immediately - eyes wide and mouth agape in surprise before it broke into a grin. “You’re up!” He exclaimed, voice echoing off the rocks as he scrambled to his feet and making Bigby wince. “Thought I wouldn’t be?” He inquired as the outlaw circled the fire to kneel beside him, keeping his eyes on his face and not his chest which was a lot broader than he remembered it being.

[There is more to this drabble, but its unnecessary. Enjoy the sneak peek you get!]

#my art #bigby #bigby wolf #fox #the wolf among us #twau #the wolf among us au #the fox the cat the wolf #tftctw #tftctw au #in the company of thieves #western au #cowboy au #writing #reblogging from side

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Another multi-billion dollars was approved for Israel meanwhile here in America prices are still soaring, more and more people are unable to afford basic needs, and the government is trying to criminalize homelessness.

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some photos i took from emerson college’s encampment for palestine. most of these were taken only a few hours before the boston PD attacked hundreds of protestors and brutally arrested 108 students, most of whom were poc, jewish, and/or queer.

anyone who spent any amount of time in the encampment will tell you just how much it brought us all together—there was always food, music, arts and crafts, and hundreds of messages of support written in chalk.

after the BPD was done brutalising us for peacefully protesting, they power washed down the walls of the encampment—all of these messages are gone. theyre trying to erase what happened, but they’ll never truly be able to. everyone saw, and everyone will remember.

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sucking dick and cock its like oh my god time and place. And you did it at my birthday dinner

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NEXT TIME, YOU INVITE PAM

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Biden better plant some votes if he wants that election bc I don’t see it for that hoe at all….. he better go to them Illuminati meetings and pop some pussy otherwise it’s curtains for grandpa

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died and i came back normal. more normal than before even. such a regular guy it’s freaking everyone out. i’m ironing my shirts & doing the sunday paper crossword puzzle and the people i love won’t stop crying

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i actually dont mind tumblr posts reposted to pinterest. the 13 y/o "pinterest in the only social media my parents let me have" girlies deserve a little treat