#the responses as always are golden

[xysidhequeen]

Should I take this as a sign I should sleep?

Yes.

Will I instead continue reading the fic I, in a rare moment of intelligence, downloaded?

Yes. Yes I will.

[lilaccatholic]

I am once again thinking about the reluctant ruler whose arc justly and correctly includes assuming the throne and taking responsibility for the people set before them

[rexscanonwife]

Good morning. I fucking hate irresponsible dog owners, if you make your local BARISTA pick up your dog's SHIT then I hope you explode a million times

[theotherrichardpapen]

there being next to no established canon backstory for basically anyone in this film is tonnes of fun cause you can say stuff like 'i think nigel had a brother he accidentally killed when they were both children' and there's nothing to dispute it

[daily-hanamura]

[landonkirbyappreciation]

The real reason Landon didn’t have a coin when he got to limbo is because not all of him was fully dead. His phoenix powers went into the golden arrow when he was stabbed, and since he was born with those powers they are very much a part of him. Therefore there is still technically a piece of him that is still alive. (This is also why he didn’t start dying like Raf did in 3x02 because, like the Necromancer had thought, he hadn’t been truly dead, not even after losing his powers because that part of him was still alive in the arrow.) Hence Landon being unable to pass onto peace, hence him being able to use the arrow to transfer his powers back to himself, hence him now being alive and a phoenix again.

[beanmaster-pika]

Ragnvindr bros angst is fun but it’s also very important to remember that these absolute dorks still hang out with each other despite the Everything. I’m oversimplifying here but it’s like fighting with your sibling but then texting them a meme twenty minutes later but ramped up to 11 and more emotionally fraught.

[n--n]

Having a ball thinking about the touchstarved cast in the His Dark Materials universe,, thinking about Kuras not having a daemon but pretending to, Vere straight up not not having one and reveling in ppl’s horror at that, MC’s daemon probably suffering the same curse as them… so much to consider

I wonder what Leander’s daemon would be?? I initially thought “bloodhound of course” but dogs are usually exclusively for the servant under classes in HDM, and I think something that hints at his dual nature and hunger for knowledge would suit him better. Something deceptively cute would be great, like those colorful frogs that are poisonous to touch

[mihrsuri]

The entirety of the thing I am working on right now is just me poking Tommy Boleyn Tudor Cromwell gently like ‘please stop being noble and self sacrificing and kind and wise you are ELEVEN and TERRIFIED someone please give this child a puppy and hugs’ and honestly, if you leave off the being a kid part that is in fact The Guy In The Future.

[stinkrascal]

Gah those who say simblr are dead should go and consume the hundreds of posts by storytellers or game players and get excited or attached so they can look forward to updates. It’s unfair that because new content isn’t being continually uploaded daily it’s deemed as dead. There’s also so many people who post text updates about their days or lives. There’s so much more life in this community besides a new edit being dropped daily to look at! Or go find new blogs! Get out of your comfort zone guys! This community also has waves of activeness and quietness which is normal for the summer time. (Sorry, I’m not ranting at you, I’m hoping that maybe people will realize that this is nothing new and to stop worrying themselves over it.)

i totally agree anon! tbh i do have sympathy for those who say this, because i totally remember having this same concern in earnest years ago when simblr first had a massive dropoff from the activity i was used to seeing in 2018. but it's kinda funny now, after so many years have passed and people are still saying the same things about how simblr is dying when it very obviously hasn't died yet haha. this is just the level of activity it's been at for a while now, but that doesn't mean it's dying, it's just being maintained at a different rate than it was back at simblr's peak activity (which again imo i'd say that was around 2018). there's always people posting on some corner of simblr about something, whether that's story posts, gameplays, edits, or even just answering asks or making text posts abt their days. you just gotta explore your options and follow as many simblrs as you can yk!! it's unreasonable to assume ppl are gonna post "content" every day (remember that this is just our hobby and not a full time job lol), but the community is still definitely here nevertheless

[luxrayz64]

seriously why the fuck aren't heroes and shadow available on steam. 06 and unleashed too. they could port the adventure games onto pc, but not these other games that released on the exact same consoles and hardware as those?

[carewyncromwell]

[Golden Age of Piracy] Chief Obliviator Captain Morgan Blay Moodboard

“Rip it off -- show the symbol on your chest -- Say, ‘come on,’ and show the world who you really are! It's not enough to be better than the rest... Gotta take it to the top and make yourself a superstar!

You don't need them to believe in you -- Get your mission on lock and see it through... You've got all the power you need in you -- Power you need in you -- power you need in you!”

~“Superhero” by Simon Curtis

x~x~x~x

fancasting Ioan Gruffudd as Morgan // tagging @thatravenpuffwitch​ @cursebreakerfarrier​ @kathrynalicemc​ because pirates!! 🏴‍☠️

x~x~x~x

In the late 17th and early 18th century, pirates ruled the seven seas. Muggle pirates had plenty of enemies, but pirates who came from the Wizarding World had even more. They not only had to contend with the likes of magical creatures like sea serpents and ancient Dark curses beyond imagination, but they also had to deal with the British Ministry of Magic’s Chief Obliviator, Morgan Blay, who was determined to hunt down and transport all of them back to Europe to face the Wizengamot for violating the International Statute of Secrecy.

However much of a stickler for law and order Blay is and no matter how easy it is to make fun of his fastidious, rigid nature, however, he’s no idle threat to piracy. At just 26 years of age, Blay is an expert at both non-verbal and wandless magic, and his Charms and Transfiguration are so advanced that he has been able to create perfect illusions around his own wand and other such magical things so that to Muggle eyes, they resemble perfectly normal things like swords (for wands) or seals (for mermaids). He even invented a spell of his own -- Repello Muggletum -- which wards Muggles off from magic-heavy areas and deters them from investigating further. (His alma mater, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, has gotten very good use out of this particular spell.) His dueling skill is only slightly sharper than his talent with a Muggle pistol and cutlass, which in turn is just as sharp as his wit -- many an opponent of Blay’s has gotten a good verbal lashing alongside a physical one. This isn’t even touching on his encyclopedic knowledge of sailing, astronomy, navigation, and Muggle technology of the era like pistols, cannons, and telescopes. All of these talents serve him well as he works undercover as part of the British Muggle Navy, secretly capturing magical pirates alongside non-magical ones while captaining an entire crew of Muggle sailors, who idolize and respect their leader for his courage, intelligence, dedication, and moral fiber. It’s a fact that makes Blay all the more protective of his men and of Muggles in general, considering the deception he’s had to deal in, just interacting with them.

Truly, if any magic users on the high seas in the Golden Age of Piracy wish to retain their freedom, they will want to stay one step ahead of the likes of Captain Morgan Blay.

[that-boleyn-boy]

Number 7: What is your favorite scene you’ve written so far?

From GSEG! Fight scene with Anne’s breakdown in chapter 3.

From TS! Probably the one im working on rn when Catalina comforts AB after her memories start to come back

[jellys-compendium]

Imagine Nanami Kento waking up from anesthesia after surgery, his bleary and unfocused gaze landing on you (his wife) standing beside him and holding his hand in yours. You smile at him warmly, softly reassuring him that he's okay and that you're right here beside him as he stares at you silently.

Nanami looks down at your joined hands, his gaze seems to focus on the wedding band adorning his ring finger. He stares at it for a moment before looking back up at you.

"Who are you?" He slurs, his words sloshy and imprecise. So unlike him, and so very adorable. "Are you a nurse?"

You giggle at Nanami's question.

"No, I'm not a nurse."

Nanami seems puzzled at your response. His brows furrow as his fingers move against yours, thumb stroking across your knuckles in that gentle motion he always does to soothe you. Your smile widens. Looks like there are some things that even ketamine can't erase.

"Wow. You got the most gorgeous smile. Are you a model? You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen in my whole life. You got really pretty teeth too..."

Kento's fingers tighten around yours, his voice falling into a groggy whisper.

"But...I think I'm married. We shouldn't be holding hands like this."

You bite your lip, fighting against the bubbling laughter in your throat and failing.

"O-Oh?"

Nanami nods, his expression shifting from one of appreciative awe to adorable seriousness.

"I want to be a good husband."

Well that just about melted your whole damn heart. Even the hospital staff in the background can't repress their "awww"s and "that's a keeper"s.

"Don't worry, you are a wonderful husband, Kento. I know that for sure."

He's confused again, those unfocused honey brown's searching yours, trying to figure out the situation as best as he can given the circumstances.

"How do you know?"

You raise your left hand, bringing it into his line of sight and wiggle your ring finger, the golden band surrounding it captures Nanami's attention in an instant.

"Because I'm your wife."

Nanami's eyes instantly grow wide, his expression morphing into one of childlike wonder.

"You're my wife?"

You laugh.

"Yes."

He squeezes your hand with a surprising amount of strength given that he was knocked out cold not that long ago.

"We're really married?"

"Yes."

"Wow..." Kento breathes, drifting off for a moment before asking you another question. "Have we kissed yet?"

His innocent yet hilarious question sends you into another fit of laugher.

"Y-yes! Many times."

Nanami rewards you with a dopey smile, his gaze so utterly loving, enchanted by your unrestrained joy.

"My wife." He murmurs adoringly, his fingers reaching up to caress your cheek.

"I love hearing you laugh." His palm cups your face. "You really are so beautiful. I hit the jackpot, didn't I?"

Grinning from ear to ear, you press a tender kiss to Kento's fingertips before guiding his hand back down to the bed.

"Alright sweetest man alive, you need to stop talking before you make every person in this room fall in love with you. I'm going to grab a snack for us for later. I'll be right back, okay?"

Kento nods.

"Okay. Can I get another kiss when you come back?"

[hatredmadeofgold]

god I’ve been sick for 1 ½ weeks at this point, it’s so annoying

[dollerinna]

I WANT TO F**K YOU LIKE AN ANIMAL .

( black noir x fem supe!reader )

summary: the not-so-innocent things that go on in noir’s head abt you during The Seven meetings (wc: 1.8k)

warnings: MDNI, dub-con, rough p in v, doggy style, primal play themes, size kink, gagging, sobbing, corruption kink, Homelander being a weirdo at the end… just a lil’

first fic on this blog and I lowkey hate it- ughhh sorry if it’s all over the place!

The morning sun cast its golden glow upon the Manhattan skyline as The Seven assembled in their meeting room.

Homelander paced before them, detailing some new initiative he had conceived, but his words rang as emptily as the void behind his eyes. The Deep hung on his every syllable, eager as ever to prove his ass-kissing self with poorly-timed quips. This earned him nothing but a withering side-eye.

A-Train and Maeve listened with feigned interest, checking out of the conversation all but in body. Noir sat apart, idly fidgeting with a pen as his mind wandered. But his attention was drawn not to the usual faces, for there was a new supe among them—you, the latest fresh-faced recruit to their team.

On the surface, you appeared the absolute picture of attention—eyes forward, laser focused on Homelander as he tiresomely outlined the team's objectives.

It was cute, really, how focused the newbies always strived to be. Yet beneath the facade, you were actually anything but so, not when you felt an unseen gaze assessing you, weighing you.

Flicking your eyes discreetly aside, you confirmed a suspicion you could smell from miles away: Noir watching from across the table, his expression shrouded as ever behind the visor of his helmet.

Ugh, talk about creepy.

A subtle flutter of your eyelids shifted your line of sight, choosing to trust that his thousand-yard stare just so casually happen to drift your way and not an attempt to burn his gaze into your very soul.

Besides, what else could the guy possibly think about? Training, orders from Vought, simple pastimes—usually, such painfully mundane, run-of-the-mill thoughts occupied him.

But little did you know in this moment, as he studied your presence from afar, his mental reflections took a turn less… innocent.

─────────────────

“N-Noir… mmph-… please…”

It wasn’t his doing, he didn’t ask to be plagued with this sickly obsession; but every time he heard your voice, it was as if sweet, smooth-spun sugar had come alive.

An alien lust scorched Noir’s consciousness, catapulting his fevered mind into unfamiliar territory. Try as he might, he couldn’t shake the sinful thoughts that stubbornly stuck to him like glue. Just the mere notion of ever being responsible for those pretty little sounds was enough for arousal to creep through his veins like a nasty virus, sapping what was left of his crumbling self-control.

Your every whine, your every moan, would be a siren's call that beckoned him to claim you, to strip away your composure until you were utterly, helplessly his. All he craved was to watch the light in your eyes dwindle, to witness your breaths dampening into shallow puffs of air that blanketed your gaze in a veil of fog, gradually muffling you into a stillness even quieter than he was.

And truthfully, it wasn’t a matter of whether you liked it or not.

Noir would ensure his touch left no room for refusal, his grasp iron-hard as he positioned your trembling, naked body on the floor to his liking—face pinned down, ass arched up, just as it should be. Yet even as he held you fast with a palm braced against your sweat-slicked spine, his other hand moved with a surprising tenderness, gently teasing loose and brushing apart the knotted strands of hair clung to your ruddied features.

He imagined the merest of touches would set your blood aflame, rumbling up a ripe groan from your core. “…Oh m-my god… fuck…” words fled your mouth on airless breaths, nearly inaudible but still enough for him to catch. In response, he’d slowly lift a finger to your glistening lips, accompanied by a soundless ‘shh’—a signal for you to behave.

After all, good girls should never cuss.

Large, strong hands would then greedily paw at the lush fat of your ass cheeks, the scratchy textured fabric of his gloves leaving blooms of red across your flesh. Spreading you open, he’d admire the way your juicy, moist folds parted slightly, the aching emptiness within your entrance eliciting an involuntary clenching—your muted moans, trapped in your throat, acting as a wordless plea for more of his touch, more of him.

He liked to think you’d be mere putty in his hands, before he was even close to fucking you.

Noir would take his sweet time exploring you, his curiosity of the human form eclipsing the immediate need to quell a white-hot carnal desire every red-blooded man gets. He was good at rearranging people’s insides, literally, but what if he flipped the script in a much different way?

Experimentally, he’d run the very tip of his gloved finger along the weeping slit of your sex, ghosting ever so lightly over your swollen, hypersensitive clit to collect your slick arousal. Then, without warning, he’d dip an entire digit into your quivering depths, reveling in the way your spongy muscles squeezed and welcomed him in.

Your breath would hitch at the intrusion, skin prickling with a visceral need as you eagerly shoved your rear back against his palm, craving more. However, just as swiftly, he would withdraw his hand, bringing it close to his face to observe it covered in your juices, inspecting how the slimy, milky-white essence connected a trail between his fingers.

Who knew light fondling and agonizing silence was all the foreplay you needed? (or at least, in Noir’s fanciful pornographic depictions of you)

Once done playing with his food, he’d drag his knees closer to your body, his hips flush against your ass, leaving your peripheral vision filled with nothing but his imposing, darkly-clad figure dwarfing your own. Without hesitation, he’d reach down to remove the codpiece off him, freeing his hefty cock which sprang forth in the air, where it stood rock-hard, veiny, and impossibly large.

Wrapping a hand around himself, the thickly-roped, buzzing veins were betrayed by each gritty pull of his glove, drawing a guttural grunt from behind his balaclava. He’d guide his erection between your warm folds, the engorged ridge of his tip prodding against your bundle of nerves, sending electric jolts of pleasure to crackle through your core, before he began to sheathe himself inside you with a push that drove him home.

With a grip possessive and firm around your waist, Noir quickly fell into a steady, almost robotic rhythm of sturdy pushes and pulls. Each punishing collision of your bodies was answered by the lewd, rapid sounds of skin-on-skin, making damn sure you felt every single inch of him as he rutted into you like a man possessed.

He’d only hope to see you struggle taking him all in, envisioning how the sheer scale of his size forced the very air out from your gasping lungs.

“P-Please Noir!… ngh-… my body can’t handle this much,” your once-lovely voice now ragged and frail, scraping sobs grinding your vocal cords near silence as you churned and coiled like a fawn caught in the clutches of a big, bad wolf. “Be gentle, I’m begging you!—-” You choked out weakly, bordering on a soft, pitiful whine.

Expectantly, a weighted silence followed suit from Noir. In his typical, unsparing fashion, he slipped a glove from his hand, jamming it into your mouth and effectively gagging you into silence, as if to say—pipe down, be a good girl, and take my cock like you’re supposed to.

Even without a single word uttered by him, it worked like absolute fucking magic.

Your torso would practically collapse under the onslaught, wobbly limbs giving way as you let Noir use your arched up, offering form like a personal fleshlight. His hips would retract further back in an excruciating slowness, simply marveling at your wetness coating the base of his member like a second skin, only to slam back into you with raw vigor.

Your tight, gummy walls would be offered absolutely no time to adjust to the relentless invasion of his girth, the sheer thickness of his cock forcefully stretching out your cunt to shape him, to the point it felt like he was trying to split you into two.

He’d yank your flexing thighs back to meet his brutal series of thrusts, burying himself into you to the very tilt as the fleshy head of his cock kissed your cervix, igniting a searing white bolt of static to lance through your vision, momentarily fracturing it.

The all-consuming, dizzying sensation hit you like a ton of bricks, toppling your senses and wrenching a strangled sob out from your slack jaw once more. This earned you another biting touch from Noir’s thumbs pressed into your sides, as if seeking to wring every gasp out of your chest, to hear your moans rattle through your ribcage.

However even your rawest cries were swiftly muffled, swallowed by the balled-up glove shoved roughly between your teeth, which reduced you to nothing more than a gagging, pleasure-drunk whore for him to claim.

─────────────────

Meanwhile…

“Welp, that about covers it for today,” Homelander announced with a thunderous clap, loud enough for it to ring through Noir’s ears and bring him back to the present.

Slowly, Noir spun his head back towards Homelander, who had just finished addressing the team while his own thoughts drifted to places where even the pearly gates of heaven wouldn't give him the time of day.

“Now shoo- and no more sloppy behavior. I’ll be keeping an eye on each and every one of you.” Homelander dismissed them with a casual wave and a chuckle laced with another one of his thinly veiled threats.

As everyone, including little-miss-oblivious-you, got up to leave the meeting room, Homelander sauntered over to Noir, heartily slapping a heavy hand onto his back. “Earth to Noir! I know that look—thoughts a million miles away behind that sphinx-like mask of yours,” giving a sly little shrug, he slanted a meaningful look towards Noir’s codpiece. “But methinks, someone here isn’t as impenetrable as I thought…” A thin wry smile played his lips, a subtle hint at his x-ray vision allowing him to see a particular something-something of Noir’s that was currently just as hard as his body armor.

“It might do you good to line that suit with zinc. Wouldn't want any unwanted eyes peeking where they shouldn’t, do we?" An amused exhale, part sigh part snicker, slipped out of Homelander as his gaze swept over Noir once more.

True to form, all he received in turn was Noir’s standard muteness, as soundless as a grave.

Homelander eased the quiet with a huffed laugh, rocking back on his heels as he tilted his head in playful study of Noir. "But don't worry," he added with a knowing smirk, "it happens to the best of us. But do try to keep your head in the game! And not with your other one, ‘kay buddy?” Homelander jested in mock-reproach as he landed one last waggish, firm slap between Noir's shoulders, flashing his gleaming white yet eerily pointed grin.

Noir remained statue still, no hint of feeling betrayed by his rigid posture despite the toe-curling awkwardness of the encounter, or perhaps he'd yet to fully realize Homelander had peered within and seen his aching, raging hard-on behind the suit's facade.

Noir silently watched Homelander shoot two playful finger guns, his cape swirled shut behind him before leaving the room.

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Pssst- Likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated in this household and keep me motivated! <3

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Apologies if there are any grammatical errors here, cuz I’m alr so done with this fic 😭😭😭