#based on a real place

[thisteaistoosweet]

Zine posting time. A phone background I made for the digital bundle : )

[chloesimaginationthings]

New Patreon tier art now FNAF themed,,

[peachesofteal]

Through Me (The Flood) - secret baby fic Simon Riley / female reader - 18+ mdni - sappy smut

“Wow.”

Simon sets both bags on the floor, forgetting them in favor of sealing himself around you, arms around your waist. “Do you like it?”

“Yeah. I’ve never been here before. Didn’t realize it was so pretty.” The ocean is turquoise, a sparkling blue green reflecting the sun’s midday peak. His lips graze your cheek, and you giggle. “I still can’t believe we’re on holiday.”

“You deserve it.” You turn in his arms, nose to his neck.

“You think Orion is okay?” He rubs your back, trying to soothe your worries. You’d been a little apprehensive when he originally mentioned going on a quick getaway, nervous about leaving the baby, but Gaz and Cami insisted they were up to the task, and he finally coaxed you out the door.

It was much needed. You were bone weary, and with the team set to leave again in another week or two, he was desperate to get some quality, alone time.

Logistically, it took a lot. You’d need to pump this entire time to keep your supply up, not to mention you’re still adjusting to your new medication for POTS. Simon had to do extensive work to ensure the security of this town, evaluating each rental and placing endless phone calls, painstakingly combing through each one until he found something perfect.

“Orion is fine. Gaz and Cami have it all under control, you know that. We’ll FaceTime with him tonight, okay?” You nod, still burrowed against him. When you finally pull away, it’s with a coy smile.

“Can we go to the beach?”

Simon leads your past Porthcurno beach with a promise of something better, a secluded craggy cove he knows will have almost no one on it. You gasp when it comes into view, more brilliantly blue water meeting white sand, framed with dark cliffs. As he suspected, only a few other people dot the beach. It requires some effort, a steep descent on uneven ground, but he holds you steady, keeping your hand on his shoulder as he leads. If you slip, you’ll only fall right into him, cushioned at his back instead of the sharp rocks.

“Oh my god…” you trail off, dropping your backpack in the sand. “Simon this is… it's perfect.” He laughs. It’s so easy with you. To laugh. To smile. He’s never felt lighter, staring at you in the sun, honeyed heat in your eyes as you peek up at him through lush lashes. You slide your shorts down, cheeky purple bikini bottoms barely covering your ass, and then shuck your t shirt, revealing the matching top. It's skimpy, to say the least, velvet skin and curves on full display, full breasts and hips, soft belly all accentuated by the lilac hue of your bathing suit. Your cheeks swallow the stretchy fabric, and he thinks about hooking his fingers between them and digging it out. His cock hardens, nearly solid and aching for you. He's already in heaven, could believe he's died and reached some sort of twisted afterlife where he doesn't end up in purgatory, and he searches for the side of your bathing suit, tugging on the strap.

"C'mere mama." You read the husk in his voice, the heavy weight of his lids, and shake your head.

"I wanna swim," you're coy with your smile, fingers tucking into the waistband of his trunks, "take me swimming daddy."

The water is warm. He's almost resentful to it, wishing it was a little cooler, enough that you would cling to him more, searching for heat.

Still, he's not complaining. Watching you wade into the water and float with the rhythm of the sea, it's enrapturing. Intoxicating. Better than bourbon. You frolic in it, beaming, carefree and weightless, heaviness of motherhood left behind for a moment, a moment where you're just you... and he's just some poor sod who's never deserved you in the first place. You've piled your hair on top of your head, wet tendrils sticking to your neck, framing your face, shrieking and giggling each time your lifted from your feet with the crest of a wave.

Finally, you come to him. Wrap your legs around his waist and heave your arms onto his shoulder, smiling in the sun. Your skin is brine soaked and glistening, wet and slick in his hold, and as the ocean rolls the two of you together in its sway, he goes with it, using the motion to press himself against you. Everything about you is his undoing, every breath you draw filling him with life, the widening of your eyes as you feel the heft of his cock pulsing between your legs, the nervous glance you give the shore at the few people bathing in the sun. His fingers trace your belly and dip into the side of your suit, swirling down your slit and then pressing your clit. You gasp into his mouth, but the water washes away your natural desire, and he pulls away.

"Si..."

"There's a nook over there," he sucks a mark into your neck, licking at the taste of your skin, the droplets splashed across your shoulder, "it's sandy, and sheltered."

"Oh." Your eyes widen. "B-but there are people... on the beach."

"They won't see. Or hear. The ocean will drown it all out." You gnaw on your lip until he places his thumb there instead. "Y'trust me?"

"Yeah."

He lays you on your back in the sand. The rock arches up like a cathedral, hallowed ground, and he takes his time pulling your bathing suit away, tugging the bottoms down to your knees, tits falling free once he unstrings your top. They're too tempting, round and full, your head tipping back when his mouth closes over your nipple, warmth spilling across his tongue.

"Feel this?" He unfolds your hand and presses it against where he's hard in his trunks. "Feel how bad I want to be inside you, honey?"

"Fuck, y-yeah."

"You're gonna take it all for me mama. Jus' like last time." You nod frantically, and he takes a quick moment to strip, palming your thighs and then spreading them open.

You seize when he burns his face in your pussy, tongue circling around your clit, one finger, then two, working themselves inside, stretching, scissoring, trying to get you ready. You thrash and moan, shuddering when the orgasm rushes through your blood, legs closing around his head until he pulls away, still holding you wide.

His entry is gentle and slow. Fingers laced together above your, a holy crown like you deserve, kissing away the crinkles of discomfort around your eyes and even the tears trailing down your cheeks.

"Jesus." You moan, and he glances down, breaking out in a full body shiver when he sees he's barely halfway there. He remembers how it was the first time, in your bed, in the moonlight, the way you strangled him, shoved him into his orgasm far before he was ready, and though your body has changed from having his baby, you've never been more beautiful, and never felt so good. "Big, Si," your brow creases, and you whimper, "you're too big-"

"Y'can take it. You were made for me." He presses against your belly as he sinks to the hilt and you mewl like the kitten you are, sweet in his arms, fingers clawed into his shoulders. His nose drags down your cheek, thrusting slowly, easy pressure stretching you out on his cock. "How's that feel?"

"F-fuck, it's... good, so good." Your lashes feather closed, and he shakes his head.

"Keep your eyes open, mama. Keep them on me." He has to see every refraction of light, every kaleidoscope of emotion and pleasure in your gaze, the overload between the two of you as he fucks you deep and fills you with come.

He wants to give you another baby so badly it burns, mark you, fill you, watch you grow heavy with his child, be there for it all this time-

But that’s not for tonight. Tonight is not about the claim. It’s about love. Showing, telling, promising. Branding vows into your skin, burying himself so deep your body never fits another, giving you his last name, keeping and loving you forever. More than a claim, even more than a promise. Something he’ll never walk away from. Someone he’d burn the world for, walk to hell and back, pulling you behind him, eyes fixed on the horizon.

His life, his past, drops like a stone to the bottom of the sea through his mind, every trial, every loss, all now serving a greater purpose, teaching a grander lesson, though no less painful. Love. Something that used to be so distant he hardly knew its name, and now it’s everywhere. The torture, the loss of his identity, his existence, even his name, all of it once lost, only to be found by you.

He’d rip his heart out and lay it at your feet if he could.

It’s slow. He’s never been particularly patient outside of work, but for you, he tries to make it last forever. Tastes each syllable of your moans and cries, paints your body with his sweat and spit. You yield for him, bloom for him, learn him the way he learns you, and as the two of you chase the end together, his face hovers just above yours, gentle fingers as a necklace under your neck.

“I love you.” He murmurs it, and your eyes shine. “I love you mama. You’re mine. Til death.”

At the precipice, the moment before the two of you shatter, your forehead meets his, you share his breath, his words, his life. It’s now yours too, intertwined like the dna stitched with yours, and when you come, the only words on your lips are a vow of your own.

“I love you too.”

[mugwot]

funnyjokespunperson

[doctorsiren]

give this angle another tri

[rystiel]

idk what we’re all calling the concept of fiddlestan working together but i’m calling my version the portal partners AU 🙏🏼

[ethosiab]

still feels unreal that there was a solid two months or so where we got regular 2 hour uploads from etho. god is real (in the form of tangotek)

[sgt-tombstone]

Price: Soap, why do you have a bandage on your head?

Soap: I hit my head on the obstacle course in training today, I think I have a concussion

Gaz: how old do you have to be before it stops being shaken baby syndrome and starts being a concussion?

Ghost: Soap never aged out of shaken baby syndrome

[hildegardladyofbones]

One of the best things about Disco Elysium by far is that it does not fear ugly women. The world is full of ugly men, but ugly women are so hard to come by.

[wi1dshxpe]

i really enjoy the idea that normal friendships/relationships are so foreign to durge and enver that they would come up with any excuse to see each other. like it takes five meetings to make plans for a small scale heist and half of them are over mimosas. the entire plot of bg3 sprung from durge being like “damn what will please dad and let me hang out with enver”

[pand1on]

i wish i could articulate my frustration with the knuckles series/scu's handling of knuckles' heritage. i just hope that people recognized that stupid 'joke' where wade couldn't pronounce pachacamac's name as the anti-Indigenous racism it was

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Smell Check [Easy: Failure]

MDZS Disco Elysium AU part 1 (part 2 - part 3)

[ahbogman]

october sunrise

[dollypopup]

I think it's interesting to look at the 'Mr. Bridgerton' scene as a backdrop for the eventual mirror scene. Firstly, in the fact that I think we've kind of misinterpreted it.

So many people are of the mind that scene's purpose to 'drag' Colin, but really, that scene has 3 primary functions. The first is to inform Colin that Penelope is aware of what he said of her, thus opening the door to clearing the air between them and providing an avenue for which Colin can apologize. The second is to establish the ground that they are currently on: Penelope has given up on the dream of Colin Bridgerton, in particular the perfect prince that can do no wrong, and has made it clear to him. It also creates distance between them that they will bridge.

But the third, and to me the most wrapped up in the mirror and the inner workings of their relationship is that it reveals how Penelope feels about *herself*. It's not necessarily an echo of what the ton considers her as, after all, we have a lot of evidence indicating that, for all intents and purpose, people aren't *unkind* about her, but rather that they ignore her. Audience members recognize this as Penelope's own shyness being the cause, she is often sitting off on the sidelines or not really talking to much of anyone, in the books she's referred to as the 'one who doesn't speak', and her LW business takes her away from being a character in the action of the ton to a bystander, kind of a self-fulfilling prophecy of sorts that perpetuates itself. Pen felt unseen so she became LW to have some power, but then LW herself must remain unseen and Penelope continues to be by design of her own making.

No, I think what it really reveals is that Penelope has incredibly low personal self esteem. We as a fandom has lauded that scene as her dragging Colin, saying that he's cruel and calling him Mr. Bridgerton is absolutely meant to create distance between them, but I don't think she's dragging him.

Because the person she is *actually* dragging here. . .is herself. And it is a general theme in her life. In Whistledown. Aloud. Even with Marina, when she complimented her, she assumes that she's lying. When Edwina says she's wearing a pretty dress, Penelope puts herself down and doesn't believe her, even when the compliment is genuine. In truth, Portia is not seen as being particularly unkind to Penelope. At least, speaking as someone who's mum was *awful* about my size and weight and outfits, Portia is. . .overall rather mild. She's not KIND and loving, not by a long shot, but she's also not targeting Penelope only. She's plenty mean and critical to Prudence, too, even to the point where she foists her off to her own cousin as a pawn piece. Penelope has low self esteem because of a lot of reasons, she's bullied by Cressida (I think a lot of girls are, she was pretty mean even to Daphne in S1) and her family isn't very tender to her, and she's not being pursued at every turn, but part of it is also her own perpetuation.

Listen to what she says "Of course you would never court me" "I embarrass you" "I am the laughingstock of the the ton". She sees *herself* as an embarrassment. She puts *herself* down. Arguably, more so than the ton does. She's meaner to herself than anyone else is, aside from Cressida. And honestly? Looking at Colin's face there. . .he is HURT that she considers herself this way. That she's projecting that onto him. Yes, he's hurt that he hurt her, of course he is, he never wants to hurt her. And yes, he's ashamed that he said he wouldn't court her the way he did and that in doing so, he validated her fears that she is unloved and unwanted, but also because. . .she already feels that way about herself. She's felt that way for years. And it's painful to care about someone, to see them as wonderful, and realize. . .they don't feel the same about themselves at all. I don't think Colin is out here feeling so wounded over the fact that she called him cruel and won't refer to him by first name anymore, but that he's most hurt by what she says about herself.

Because he *doesn't* see her the way she accuses. She says she never expected him of all people to be so cruel, but he feels the same way. He never expected her to be so cruel to *herself*. He wants to go somewhere private, not because she is an embarrassment, but because he wants to have a private conversation with her. Maybe assure her. Maybe explain himself. Maybe hash it out. But god Luke Newton's acting. . .he is *aching* for her. And it feels like he's going to do those lessons not in atonement for what he said (thank god) but to genuinely help his friend who thinks badly of herself. To lift her up. It's not about him at all, not about earning forgiveness, but about elevating Penelope. And that's. . .fuck, I just find that's just so heart stoppingly beautiful.

You can see, in that scene, how much he cares about her. How deeply and genuinely he adores her as a person. And just how painful it is for him to know he has validated, whether on purpose or otherwise, how poorly she feels about herself. How low her self-confidence really is. She is giving him a glimpse into the cracks of her heart, and when he sees them, he wants to reach out with both hands and make it feel better. Make her feel better.

After she says 'even when I change my entire wardrobe', he looks so fucking crushed. So 'don't say that'. So 'you really believe that?'. So 'God, I hate that you think that way'.

Because regardless of it all, he does love her. It's not romantic yet. It's not sexual yet. But he genuinely, truly, from the bottom of his heart, thinks she's wonderful. That was evident even in the 'purpose' scene. Every time Penelope opens up and reveals a facet of herself, he likes it. He likes her barbs and her dreams, he likes talking to her. He likes her. And he feels awful that he hurt her. And he feels awful that she's hurting herself. He loves her. He wants her to love herself.

And that's where the mirror scene comes in. Because the mirror scene isn't about sex, not really. Not entirely, at least. The mirror scene is about *intimacy*. The mirror scene is about being seen. Not just her seeing him, or him seeing her, but for Penelope to see *herself*. In a way, through his eyes. Because hers are biased rather negatively toward herself, which is evidenced in the 'Goodnight Mr. Bridgerton' scene, and in so many little moments we've already gotten where she's literally looking down on herself, feeling down. She doesn't necessarily *like* what's in the mirror, but he does. Because he likes *her*. And he wants to show her that he does. Show her that he finds her beautiful and have her recognize that in herself.

The 'Goodnight Mr. Bridgerton' scene is about Penelope revealing how she sees herself. The mirror scene is about Colin showing her how *he* sees her. The Goodnight scene is about Penelope thinking she means nothing to him, that he thinks of her the way she thinks of herself, that this is how everyone thinks of her, and the mirror scene is a direct response to that: No, he doesn't. No, he doesn't think she's embarrassing. No, he doesn't think she's a laughingstock. No, he doesn't think she's unappealing. And he doesn't think she should, either.

And he's going to show her that. Not just tell her, but show her. The mirror scene is so often a focus on Penelope, so much of Polin is in Penelope's focus, but approaching it from Colin's perspective and his motivations is so fulfilling, too. It's a glimpse into them in conversation, and a demonstrate of how Colin loves her. How Colin loves in general, openly and earnestly and altruistically. How he encourages her to be braver and more confident in herself, bolstering her because he just likes her *that much*. How he finds the most fulfillment and satisfaction in caring aloud. The mirror scene is a demonstration of his heart in reflection.

When Luke Newton said the first word that came to mind with the word 'Mirror' was 'Exposed', he doesn't just mean physically. He means emotionally, too.

God this couple is so fucking good.

[tinseltina]

trying to make fanart of leona from @kiame-sama's humans are extinct twst au (warning it is a yandere au and 18+ so minors DNI)

[svtskneecaps]

ok among my favorite parts of qsmp is the fact that charlie slimecicle can only hold the act of being mad at mariana when mariana isn't in the room. like he successfully rp'd being mad at his deadbeat puta esposa for months while mariana wasn't logging on, like he complained about mariana at the wedding, during the election, in subsequent appearances, and then he's messaging mariana in the chat during purgatory and he's still holding it

and then they're both at spawn like as close to face to face as they get. and bro CANNOT hold the act it drops so fast lmfao he was like "yea cellbit i'm gonna kill mariana" and instead they have a genuinely heartfelt conversation and then rp sexo in the fountain

and i know i'm brainrotting purgatory rn but i'm actually thinking about this bc i saw a clip of mariana and slime talking during the awards show and literally. slime's face goes from 😡🤬 MARIANA'S HERE, SAY SOMETHING PUTA ESPOSA to 😄😁 the second mariana shows up on the screen

like he's still pretending to be mad but dude is grinning like absolute crazy and i love that