#[ anyway

[inkskinned]

this is just my opinion but i think any good media needs obsession behind it. it needs passion, the kind of passion that's no longer "gentle scented candle" and is now "oh shit the house caught on fire". it needs a creator that's biting the floorboards and gnawing the story off their skin. creators are supposed to be wild animals. they are supposed to want to tell a story with the ferocity of eating a good stone fruit while standing over the sink. the same protective, strange instinct as being 7 and making mud potions in pink teacups: you gotta get weird with it.

good media needs unhinged, googling-at-midnight kind of energy. it needs "what kind of seams are invented on this planet" energy and "im just gonna trust the audience to roll with me about this" energy. it needs one person (at least) screaming into the void with so much drive and energy that it forces the story to be real.

sometimes people are baffled when fanfic has some stunning jaw-dropping tattoo-it-on-you lines. and i'm like - well, i don't go here, but that makes sense to me. of fucking course people who have this amount of passion are going to create something good. they moved from a place of genuine love and enjoyment.

so yeah, duh! saturday cartoons have banger lines. random street art is sometimes the most precious heart-wrenching shit you've ever seen. someone singing on tiktok ends up creating your next favorite song. youtubers are giving us 5 hours of carefully researched content. all of this is the impossible equation to latestage capitalism. like, you can't force something to be good. AI cannot make it good. no amount of focus-group testing or market research. what makes a story worth listening to is that someone cares so much about telling it - through dance, art, music, whatever it takes - that they are just a little unhinged about it.

one time my friend told me he stayed up all night researching how many ways there are to peel an orange. he wrote me a poem that made me cry on public transportation. the love came through it like pith, you know? the words all came apart in my hands. it tasted like breakfast.

[sabertoothwalrus]

does science experiments on you (homoerotically)

[lopsaii]

Ongoing stepladder debate

[starmocha]

Relentless Conqueror Sylus/Reader | 1790 words | Masterlist | 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✨ 😔 MDNI.

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.

[himbosandhardwear]

Steve glances up to ask Eddie where he wants the box in his arms when his eye catches on something, frankly absurd, and he stops in his tracks.

Eddie has taken off his jacket, which was stupid to have on to begin with, and underneath is wearing a sleeveless tank top, the bottom of which is about three inches shorter than anything Steve has seen him in.

"What the fuck?"

Eddie glances up to see him staring. "What?"

Instead of answering, Steve sets the box down and marches over to him. He grabs the bottom of Eddie's shirt and lifts it up to his armpits.

"What is happening?" Eddie asks while trying to squirm out of Steve's reach.

"Are you hot? When the fuck did this happen? You have abs, Eddie. How long have you been hot under that stupid jacket?"

"What?!" He squirms some more, this time away from Steve's poking fingers.

"You have pecs. What is happening in the universe? You're supposed to be all noodle arms and Doritos gut. This isn't right."

Eddie finally manages to get away, yanking his shirt back down and then pointing a 'stay back' finger in Steve's face. "Hey, man, I'm not a piece of meat!"

"Piece of beefcake, apparently," Steve mutters.

Eddie chokes. "What do you care? You can't be jealous, you're as hot as you've ever been."

Why does Steve care? Thwarted expectations? It can't just be that, he's practically vibrating in place, skin all hyper aware of itself.

"You think I'm hot?" He asks instead of giving Eddie an answer he doesn't have.

He scoffs.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Steve puts both hands on his hips.

"It means I'm not getting reeled in by your fishing. Can we finish moving this shit now?"

Steve stares some more. His arms aren't as big as Steve's, but the way his bicep moves under his skin as he bends to lift the box Steve dropped, it's....uh...

Uh oh.

Eddie is hot, stamps itself into the fabric of Steve's universe.

Steve turns and marches back outside. "Robin!!!!"

[thepearlyalbatross]

I loooooveeee all the fics where the agency finds Edwin's remains and Bury them with Charles but I cannot help but wonder in centuries time if people find them again and are just so fucking confused.

Especially if like they set Edwin's bones nicely with Charles' or like they're holding hands or some shit and these archaeologist r just like oh fun people who died together BUT NO. Bc Edwin died 70 years before Charles so wtf is going on here.

We don't know how these teenaged skeletons came to be like fuckin intertwined with each other but its cool ig?

And they try to separate them or something but they keep ending up together again. Just over and over until everyone is convinced it's some magic shit and to just let them be together.

[leafspiritz]

III; three for the gleam of a jewel or a smile

[boringwomanwithabook]

A pic of the OG hoodie and undies gf? (you)

started out a little lazy with a half flash then went full pair

[rystiel]

bro’s about to do something stupid (and likely illegal)

[little-pup-pip]

Fall Carnival!!

[unicornmanfish]

It's that one panel. Y'know.

Memes

[tyrannosarahsrex8]

Welcome to the “whoops! I accidentally started got manipulated into starting the apocalypse!” Club. Members being Jonathan Sims and Mable Pines. They’re both ✨traumatised✨

Bonus comic

[propertyofsamcollins]

I feel like, in terms of Quinn, we don't talk abt the fact that he's actually a little BITCH

Like, you're a 50 year old vampire targeting unempowered humans who couldn't fight you back if they wanted to. You're literally a bitch bro.

And this fact right here, is one of the main reasons why I will ALWAYS defend darlin when people talk abt them putting the pack in danger.

Quinn doesn't attack people that he knows he's gonna lose to. Because, let's be real, if he was gonna attack an unempowered member of the pack, he would have done so when he attacked Darlin's friend.

He may be a lot of things, but he's not dumb. Attacking an unempowered person of the shaw pack (the most influential one in Dahlia, btw) ESPECIALLY the mate of the beta or alpha???? Cmon bro, that's so fucking stupid and Quinn would literally never do that, because he knows he would get his shit rocked by like 30 fucking wolves bro.

Darlin's unempowered friend was the only person that Quinn could hurt Darlin' with, without touching a member of the pack. Which is why he went after them specifically.

I could go on about this all day, like Darlin' wasn't putting anyone in danger because Quinn isn't dumb enough to attack a member of the pack!!

[blobee]

Brrrbbr

Catch

[bawdza]

-🔈🔉🔊

Violet TWDG they will never make me hate you

[emotoangel]

thinking so so so so so many thoughts about him

I’m taking 5 minutes alone and going to sleep