#anyway I am at work again

[penumbra-mayhem]

Do You Want to Leave? - Darlin’/Sam fic

“If there was any color left in Darlin’s face, it dissipated at the soft question. They’d fucked up. This was it. Time to go. Grab the bag and run. Run. Run. Run. Run. Ru—”

(I hc that Tank has a stutter; there's more on that here if you'd like. This takes place a couple months after Darlin’ moves into Sam’s place.)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sam hadn’t meant to find it. He wasn’t snooping, he’d just been cleaning. Between him and Darlin’, they didn’t own that much stuff, so stumbling across a black backpack shoved to the back of their closet peaked his curiosity.

He pulled it out, scanning over its nondescript exterior before unzipping the largest pocket. His brow furrowed. Clothes. Money. A knife.

A quiet, sharp inhale—Sam’s head shot up at the noise. Darlin’ stood frozen in the doorway, eyes fixed on the open bag in Sam’s hands.

“Darlin’,” Sam spoke, his voice low and laced with hesitation, “What’s this?”

They didn’t say anything. They couldn’t. Sam waited for a reply. When it appeared he wasn’t going to get one, he asked again,

“What is this?”

Darlin’s hands began to tingle. The doorway began to shrink around them. What could they say, besides the truth? Anything but the truth.

Sam looked back down at the bag. Clothes. Money. A knife. He didn’t want to ask. He already knew the answer.

“Is this a go-bag?”

If there was any color left in Darlin’s face, it dissipated at the soft question. They’d fucked up. This was it. Time to go. Grab the bag and run. Run. Run. Run. Run. Ru—

“—are you leavin’ me?”

Darlin’ finally resurfaced from the whirlpool of their thoughts. Sam’s countenance toed the line between despair and disbelief. He began to tremble. The distance between them was unfathomable, the bedroom stretching before their eyes.

“N-n-no,” Darlin’ replied, before weakly adding, “n-n-n-not unless y-y-y-you w-w-want me t-to.”

Sam shook his head, “What do you mean? Why would you think I’d want you to leave?”

Run. Run. Run. Run. Run. Run. R—

“—baby,” Sam pleaded, trying to pull Darlin’ out of the spiral he could see them sinking into, “talk to me…please.”

Darlin’ knew they couldn’t avoid this. Couldn’t avoid him, with his damned loving gaze and soft downturned lips. Yet they tried all the same, shaking their head and biting the inside of their cheek to keep from talking.

Sam set the bag down on their bed and slowly moved towards Darlin’. They resisted the instinct to flinch as he raised his hand towards their face. He wasn’t Quinn. He wouldn’t hurt them. Right? Run. Run. Run. Run.

His fingers brushed softly against their cheek—a motion like he was brushing away a tear. Were they crying? They were, fuck. They felt his other hand grasp one of theirs as he spoke again, “Darlin’, please. What’s goin’ on?”

They stared at his chest, unable to meet his gaze as they finally whispered, “It’s j-j-just in c-c-case.”

“In case what, love? In case…in case I hurt you?”

Darlin’ felt sick at the question. They gripped Sam’s hand tighter as they met his teary gaze and tried to quell his fear, “N-no! N-n-no, I kn-kn-know you’d n-n-never….you’re n-n-not….”

Not Quinn.

“It’s j-j-just….in case y-you w-w-w-want me t-t-to leave. In c-c-c-case I-I f-f-fuck this up.”

Sam’s jaw set. Something flashed in his eyes before he let go of Darlin’s hand and turned around, heading towards their bed. Darlin’ watched as he grabbed something from the bag. Clothes.

“W-w-what’re y-you d-d-doing?”

Sam didn’t reply as he opened their shared dresser, placing each article of clothing inside. He walked back to the bag. Money.

He grabbed Darlin’s wallet on their bedside table, stuffing the money inside before returning to the bag.

“Sam!” Darlin’ exclaimed, taking a step into their bedroom, “Wh-what are y-you d-doing?”

Sam turned to face them, his gaze firm, his voice resolute.

“This is your house. Your home. You’re not leavin' unless you want to leave. Do you want to leave?”

Stunned by the blunt question, Darlin’ didn’t respond. The silence carved anguish into Sam’s face, causing panic to rise again within Darlin’. Run. Run. Run.

After a moment, they whispered, “N-n-no.”

The answer covered the floor between them like a varnish and slowly dried as they stared at each other. Sam reached back into the bag, murmuring, “C’mere.”

Darlin’ hesitated, then closed the distance. Sam held out his hand. The knife.

“Go on,” he urged quietly.

Darlin’ took the knife from Sam’s shaking hand. They placed it in the drawer of their bedside table before glancing at him and whispering, “I’m s-sorry.”

Sam shook his head slightly. His fingers trailed up Darlin’s arms and caressed their cheeks.

“Oh sweet thing…” He placed a gentle kiss on their forehead. “It’s ok…” A kiss on their nose. “I understand….” A kiss on their lips.

“You want to leave?”

“N-no. N-n-never.”

[heartorbit]

figure skating set right now please. thanks

[danggerine]

going insane thinking about the harrow and palamedes friendship. harrow, who has never met another necromancer her age forming a bizarro 3D chess rivalry while pal worries about her safety at every possible turn. harrow, who is up to her eyebrows in paranoia and secrecy, trusting the sixth house with gideon unconscious and hurt, letting them into the ninth house quarters unsupervised. if “i cannot conceive of a universe without you in it” is goth for i love you, “death first to vultures and scavengers” has got to be goth for i love you (platonic). pal’s first reaction when harrow comes into his bubble in the river is to scoop her up in a hug, and at this point she doesn’t remember anything about him because cutting out all her memories of gideon is impossible without cutting out memories of the sixth, but she still makes him a skelehand to inhabit anyway. when harrow’s memories are finally whole, she tells dulcinea she couldn’t face pal knowing that his pen pal girlfriend died on her account, but the next time she “faces” him, palamades’s soul is in someone else’s body and harrow’s body is full of nona’s soul. he spends six months protecting and caring for harrow’s body (and nona obv), believing in the possibility of bringing her back to it the same way cam believed in him. “god, do you know i miss harrow terribly.” and by the time harrow comes back to her body at the very end of ntn, pal is gone forever, fully pauled. the last time harrow and palamades see each other as their complete selves is in canaan house, alive and unlyctored. two of the smartest and loneliest people in the solar system meet each other in the worst of circumstances and spend the rest of the story dancing around each other as fragments of themselves, trying to care about each other in the interim but never fully meeting like they did the first time. a friendship made almost entirely of missing the other person. “do you know i miss harrow terribly.” god. i need to lie down

[chalkrub]

saw some mangy dog on the outskirts of town

[intotheelliwoods]

I have been meaning to do a crossover with the one and only @kathaynesart for such a long time! And the @tmntaucompetition has created the perfect excuse for this :)

I think Sprout and Omega would have a surprising amount in common, they have a lot they can talk about with one another!

Apologies for the cliffhanger- haha- whoops-

[damianito]

My favorite traumatized cat

|COMMISSIONS OPEN!!|

[egophiliac]

hiii im sure you’ve answered this before but in regards to your twst x Pokémon, how do you choose which Pokémon go give to the cast?? really curious since your choices are unique :O

unique in a good way, I hope? 😅 (jk jk I haven't come across too many pokemon AUs, so I was going in without preconceptions, I guess!) I was sorta aiming somewhere between doing, like, a full AU with internal consistency and everything, and just picking entirely based on theme/character, so maybe that's why! basically I just set some arbitrary rules (no legendaries/no repeats/evo stages based on year) and then went on ~vibes~. a couple were also suggestions (thank you guys!) and last-minute decisions, so it was a bit of a delightful mess of ideas!

my one regret is that I should have given Riddle a Togedemaru after all. ...you know what, he can have one now, why not

[starmocha]

Relentless Conqueror [Sylus/Reader ★ 1790 words ★ Masterlist ★ Series Index ★ AO3] To be wedded to the strongest warrior in the village was an honor and a blessing. A/N: I saw someone specified that Sylus is dressed as a Mongolian wrestler in the new memory. I am so excited for it, but um…this fic has absolutely nothing to do with that. My mind just swerved completely off-course the moment I saw this man manhandling us again lmao And…yeah…this is based on this post I made earlier. Still in my ✨shameful Sylus posting era✨ 😔

In the wide-open plane of the grassland, everything could be heard for miles all around. Stretched across the vast expanse, one area was occupied by numerous huts making up a small but thriving village.

Within the village, everyone had a role. The elders guided and led the villagers with their years of wisdom. The men were providers, hunters, and warriors while the women sustained the community and reared the children who would one day take over, thus continuing this cycle of life.

You were no exception. It was time for you to take your place among others with the new role you were about to take.

Fortune had smiled down upon you. Hushed whispers wove through the village, going from mouth to mouth, passing loose lips after loose lips, before the news finally reached you.

Sylus had chosen you to be his bride.

To be chosen by the strongest warrior in the village to be his bride was an honor bestowed only on you. He would provide you with a life of comfort and in turn, you were to bear him strong children. Many of the other maidens envied you, wanting to covet your place, to steal him away from you.

However, Sylus was truly the epitome of the ideal warrior: Large, strong, and imposing. He was unyielding on the battlefield, and he was unyielding in his decisions.

Of all the maidens who had crossed his path, only one had managed to ensnare him, to captivate him like no others.

You.

It was a prosperous union witnessed in a lavish ceremony by the entire village, cheered to be blessed by the gods themselves. A true match made in Heaven, many declared, as the wedding ceremony ended and the celebration began.

Arm linked with your new husband, you greeted and thanked the well-wishers, watching with wonders as everyone feasted and drank to your marriage. The merriment started from morning and continuing well into the late night. After nightfall had descended, Sylus led you away from the celebration. No one noticed the absence of the bride and groom, too drunk on alcohol and the festivities to even be aware of their surroundings.

Sylus whisked you away to his quiet hut, far from the music, laughter, and cheers. He towered over you, holding aside the curtain at the entryway to allow you entrance. As you entered, you could see the hut had been prepped for the wedding night.

It was a very comfortable living space, more extravagant than many of the other villagers’ homes. You barely had a moment to fully take in the sight of your new home before Sylus swept you off your feet, cradled in his arms as he carried you to his bed. He laid you down on fur, your beauty illuminated by the lamps within the hut. You could still hear the residual laughter and chatters outside as the rest of the villagers continued in their merriment celebrating this union.

“Pay them no heed,” Sylus ordered, grasping your chin firmly and forcing your sight on him. “Tonight, and for the rest of our lives, you are mine.”

He kissed you roughly, not minding your inexperience. It pleased him that your chasteness meant you were untouched, meant that he would have the sole honor of claiming you.

He disrobed his blushing bride, guiding your nimble hands to his toned body, letting you touched upon his firm muscles, feel the heat from his body. One by one, accessories fell, clinking and clanking on the ground. Then, his own ceremonial garments were discarded, tossed carelessly to the side and leaving him bare and nude, your eyes feasting on the wonderous sight of your new husband.

You swallowed slowly, feeling the gentle flutters of butterflies in your belly. He smirked at your nervousness. One hand cupped your cheek, pulling you closer to him. You whimpered when he claimed your lips again, his large body overpowering you in seconds. He had you spread beneath him, his own body looming over yours and keeping you trapped under him. He cupped your sex, startling you as his long, slender fingers worked into your folds.

You let out a sharp gasp, fingers finding their way into his hair, and tugging at him nervously.

“Relax,” he ordered, “You’re not ready for me yet.”

He was well-endowed, his size intimidating, and you unconsciously clenched, only realizing when you heard Sylus’ deep chuckle. You blushed crimson, but your embarrassment soon passed the moment you felt Sylus working his fingers in and out of you.

“Ah—” Your hips moved on their own, desperately meeting his thrusts, wanting more, just a bit more. Your toes curled, body tensing up when you felt his thumb brushing against something that was causing you to jolt in pleasure. “M-more…Sylus…please…”

“You like that, sweetie?”

You nodded numbly, your voice coming out breathless. “Yes…please…my husband.”

You didn’t see the way Sylus’ eyes gleamed in satisfaction, didn’t hear his quick intake of breath over your own helpless moans. He smirked.

He seized your mouth again, taking in your startled cries, his fingers slipping in and out of your wet folds faster and faster. “My bride—my wife…” he murmured back, nipping and sucking greedily, “You’re so wet now, sweetie…Do you feel good?”

You sobbed and cried as his fingers curled inside. There was a tightening in your belly. You called out to him, scared. “Sy—Sylus…”

He shushed you gently. “Come for me.”

You clenched around his fingers, your cries filling the room. Sylus’ smirk widened as he watched you come undone by his fingers alone. He kissed your lips, praising you softly as you panted and sobbed. You barely recovered when he withdrew his fingers, his length taking place.

You bucked in surprise, eyes widening. “Sy-Sylus, no…”

“You are ready for me, my bride,” he assured. He pressed forward and you gripped a handful of the fur throw beneath you, your sensitive body feeling suddenly overstimulated by the massive intrusion taking place. Impossibly big, you thought, as your walls stretched around his thick length, taking him in slowly through much pain. He barely comforted you, seemingly enjoying the sight of you gasping and moaning as you were getting stuffed by him. His soft pants grew shallower, his eyes darkened with desire as he watched his beloved new bride taking him in inch by inch.

He praised you over and over once he was fully sheathed inside you, his deep voice comforting you in that moment. “You’re doing so well,” he said, voice thick with desire, “I have chosen the perfect wife.”

You felt a warmth in your belly, his praise filling you with unexpected joy. “Sylus…”

He smirked.

He took you brutally, riding you as rough and hard like his faithful steed. You wept and sobbed as his powerful thrusts reached that euphoric spot that had you writhing and moaning, begging him for more and more of this sweet, agonizing pleasure. You had never known the touch of a man before this night, and from this moment onwards, Sylus made sure you never will. He was going to make sure your body learned that you were his, craved only him, and only satisfied by him.

He was wrecking you, ruining you. You moaned as his large hand covered your flat belly. “You better prepare yourself, my bride,” he husked, “the women in my family only bear large children.”

You trembled, unsure if what you were feeling was fear or otherwise. He slipped his hands under you, groping and grabbing your buttocks and lifting you off the bed, your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist. Immediately, your head lolled to the side, your moans resounded within the private space as you felt him penetrating you deeply, his pacing still unrelenting and unforgiving. This new angle had you calling out to him needily, feeling the second climax approaching fast.

Closer…and closer…and closer—

“Dear gods…” he groaned as you came undone again, your walls squeezing tightly around his cock. He pressed you back into the bed, letting you ride out your high as he chased after his. His hand grasped yours, pressing them deeper into the bedding.

“Gonna fuck my child into you,” he grunted, his hips slapping against yours, “Gonna breed you, have you heavy with my baby in your womb.”

He fondled your breast, massaging it roughly under his calloused hand. His mouth was close to yours, his hot, humid breath fanned over your lips. “Gonna have you swell, gonna have you bear me sons and daughters over and over again…”

Your legs locked around his waist, pulling him in closer to his surprise. He smirked. His hand reached out to brush your hair out of your sweat-slicked face. He leaned in closer, kissing you briefly, and then he asked, “Did you like the sound of that, my bride? Do you like what I am saying? Do you like knowing this is your role from now on? To bear my children over and over again?”

“Y—” you bit down on your bottom lip, embarrassed.

“Say it,” he demanded, thrusting in harder, eliciting more of your sweet cries.

He held you close and you sobbed into his shoulder, arms wrapped around his neck as you felt him still pounding into your pussy. “Yes…Yes…!” you cried out, clinging to him, “I want your baby…I want to have all of your babies, Sylus!”

“Fuck’s sake…” His eyes squeezed shut, feeling you come again already. This time, he also felt his own climax, felt himself pumping hot into you. He groaned again, “Take every last drop, sweetie.”

You felt so impossibly full, his seed flooding your womb. There was not a doubt in your head that this union wouldn’t be fruitful. You were going to carry his baby, bear him large, strong sons—future warriors to carry on his legacy.

“My bride, my beautiful bride,” he murmured, lavishing you in his sweet kisses as he pulled out. He gazed down at you, taking in the sight of your flushed cheeks and doe eyes staring back at him. He hummed softly, his lips finding yours again, his large hand interlocking with yours.

“Mine.”

Beyond the hut, the celebration continued. Laughter and singing continued well into the late night, but within this hut, there was only the labored breathing, desperate gasps and pleased moans filling the space for hours on end. Time seemed to have slowed down, the world quieting.

He took you, claimed you over and over again. Your body was his, and his was yours. From this day and onwards, in this life and all of the lifetimes to come, you were his bride, the only one capable of stealing the heart of the feared conqueror of the grassland.

[xxplastic-cubexx]

chair + helmet for funsies

[katabay]

THERE AIN'T NO ATLAS, KID. NEVER WAS.

if you peel him back far enough, there's nothing but a pile of theater masks

like, it's really fun how fontaine starts spiralling out the closer jack gets to him in the final arc of the game and returns to appropriating the image of family (the fake family in the beginning, the flawed father position later) to try and appeal to jack in some way but it's like. buddy. baby. you already took off your mask. anything you try and put on after this is going to come across as cheap and desperate. the magic is gone! and personally? I'm hooting and hollering

⭐ places I’m at! bsky / pixiv / pillowfort /cohost / cara.app / insta

[skyartworkzzz]

Help I been drawing so much COTL that I fcking forgot how to draw humans GET ME OUT OF THE FURRY FANDOM!!!!!!!!!!

[chiropteracupola]

c. 1540 CE: a young man from Chalco, and his dragon.

[pigeonneaux]

I hear you call my name (and it feels like home)

[hinamie]

hhmmmmm uh im dusting the cobwebs off my brain trying 2 come up w something interestinf uhh.......anything non spoiler-y you can discuss w regards to geto in the atla au perchance?

hi rin !!!!! tysm fr sending i hope u r doing well <3

atla geto lore fr u courtesy of sam:

he's a waterbender from the northern water tribe. he can bloodbend but finds it distasteful

he gave gojo the betrothal necklace/proposed to him when they were 20 (all of the adult characters are aged up in the fic vs jjk canon ages)

all of his decisions are driven by a desire to lighten the burden placed on gojo's shoulders

aaaaand atla geto draws fr u courtesy of Me :3

jjk atla!au with @philosophiums

[ganondoodle]

Empress and her Bodyguard (2)

(OCs, Zaphira she/her, Shargon he/they)

(close up)

[ricky-mortis]

Hatchetfield @femslashfortnight Day 1: Make It Sapphic AU