spa day

Origami Around
trying on a metaphor
Sade Olutola
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
Cosmic Funnies

⁂

❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
sheepfilms
Cosimo Galluzzi
Show & Tell
DEAR READER
Claire Keane

Love Begins

pixel skylines

★
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her

No title available
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
No title available
todays bird
seen from Türkiye
seen from United States

seen from Türkiye

seen from Greece
seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States

seen from Greece

seen from Greece
seen from United States
seen from Germany
seen from Germany

seen from Greece
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seen from Puerto Rico

seen from Hungary
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@headless-pup
spa day
I saw a post by @alwayswasalwayswillbeourland that Sokka's boomerang shouldn't be metal, it should be made of wood. It would make more sense if Sokka's boomerang was made from wood since 1. Boomerangs are made from wood in order to work, and 2. Trees are much more scarce in the Poles, so this would also show its value in craftsmanship & resources, rather than metal
You make a really good point, but I always envisioned his boomerang less like wood or metal and more out of bone, as irl we had found many boomerangs to be made out of bone, and with Sokka being in the southern water tribe I feel like the have more access to bones which would lead into a very sweet headcannon of sokka’s boomerang was made of bone carved from something his father or grandfather caught and got passed onto him
omg tiny zuko
Look at him, hes so adorable heheh
Sokka x male reader
Jealous Boy
The Earth Kingdom market sprawled along the riverbank like a living tapestry, colorful stalls overflowing with spices, silk scarves, and hand-carved trinkets that caught the midday sun. The air hummed with voices and the sharp scent of grilled street food, merchants calling out their wares while children darted between legs. You and Sokka had slipped away from the group for what was supposed to be a simple supply run, but the way he kept glancing sideways at you, that easy grin on his face, made it feel like something more.
Sokka walked close, shoulder brushing yours every few steps, his boomerang slung casually over his back. “See? Told you this place had the best roasted duck-pig. Way better than anything in the South.” He bumped your arm lightly, eyes bright with that familiar spark of mischief. “Bet I can talk the vendor down to half price. Watch this.”
You laughed under your breath and let him lead, content to follow the rhythm of his stride. The crowd thickened near a stall selling intricate jade pendants, and that’s when it happened. A tall merchant with sharp cheekbones and a confident smile leaned across the counter, eyes flicking over you with open interest as he held out a polished pendant.
“Something for the handsome traveler?” the man said, voice smooth and low. “This one would look perfect against your skin. Or… maybe you’d let me show you how it fastens?” His gaze lingered, the flirtation clear and unhurried.
You offered a polite nod and a half-smile, already reaching for Sokka’s sleeve to keep moving. But Sokka didn’t miss a beat. He stepped in closer, hand brushing yours deliberately this time, fingers grazing your palm before linking loosely. “Yeah, we’re good,” he said, tone light but edged just enough. “He’s got all the accessories he needs.” The merchant shrugged with a knowing look, but Sokka was already guiding you away, hand staying in yours a fraction longer than necessary as the crowd swallowed the stall behind you.
He played it cool the rest of the afternoon — cracking jokes about the overpriced tea sets, pointing out ridiculous hats, stealing bites of your skewer when you weren’t looking. But you noticed. The way his fingers kept finding excuses to touch your wrist. The way he positioned himself between you and every passing stranger. The way his laugh came a little quicker, a little brighter, like he was reminding the whole market exactly who you were walking with.
By the time the sun dipped low and painted the river gold, the market noise had faded behind you. You found a quiet stretch of grass beside the water, the current murmuring softly as you sat together. Sokka dropped down first, knees drawn up, staring out at the ripples. The easy grin had slipped away, leaving something quieter.
You waited, shoulder against his, until he spoke.
“I hate this,” he said finally, voice low. “Feeling like I have to… I don’t know, stake a claim or something. That guy back there wasn’t even that bad, but the second he looked at you like that…” Sokka huffed a short breath, rubbing the back of his neck. “I know it’s stupid. I trust you. I love that you’re mine. But sometimes it still hits me that someone else could try.”
You turned toward him, the river’s soft glow catching on the sharp lines of his face. Without a word you reached out, cupping the back of his neck and pulling him in. The kiss was slow, grounding, your mouth moving against his until the tension in his shoulders melted. Sokka sighed into it, one hand fisting lightly in the front of your tunic like he needed the anchor.
“You’re mine,” you murmured against his lips when you finally parted, forehead resting on his. “And I’m yours. No one else gets this. No one else even comes close.”
He exhaled, the sound shaky but relieved, and kissed you again — softer this time, like he was letting the words settle deep. When you stood and offered your hand, he took it without hesitation, the walk back to the small inn on the edge of town quiet and warm.
The narrow room upstairs was simple, just a bed, a low lantern, and the faint scent of river air drifting through the open window. The moment the door clicked shut, Sokka was on you, mouth urgent and claiming as he backed you toward the bed. Clothes came off in a tangle of hands and quiet laughs, until he pushed you down onto the mattress and climbed into your lap, straddling your hips.
He didn’t waste time. Sokka sank down onto you in one smooth motion, the tight heat of him enveloping every inch until he was seated fully, breath catching sharp. His hands braced on your chest, palms flat over your heart as he started riding you hard — hips rolling with that focused intensity he usually saved for battle plans or inventions. His wolf-tail had come loose somewhere along the way, dark strands falling across his forehead as he looked down at you, eyes locked on yours like he was daring the world to try taking this away.
You gripped his hips, fingers digging into warm skin, and thrust up to meet him, matching every downward drop with a deep, steady snap. The narrow bed creaked under the rhythm, the sound mixing with the wet slap of skin and Sokka’s low, ragged breaths. He rode you like he needed to feel every inch, like he was proving something to himself with every grind.
But the possessiveness still simmered under his skin. Sokka leaned down suddenly, mouth latching onto the side of your neck. His teeth scraped first, then bit down hard enough to sting in the best way, sucking a dark mark into the skin right where your collar would hide it tomorrow. He soothed it immediately after with slow, wet licks, tongue dragging over the fresh bruise like he was sealing it in. “Mine,” he growled against your throat, voice wrecked but fierce, before moving lower to your collarbone. Another bite, another bloom of heat and color, followed by the same careful, soothing licks that made your cock twitch inside him.
You tightened your hold on his hips and drove up harder, watching the way his head tipped back for a moment before he forced it forward again, refusing to break the eye contact. Sweat slicked his chest, muscles flexing with every roll, his cock leaking steadily against your stomach as he chased the edge. Sokka kept marking you — a sharp bite just above your left pec, then another lower on your ribs — each one followed by those deliberate, tender licks that dragged over the sensitive skin until the sting melted into warm pleasure. He sucked a particularly dark hickey right over your heart, tongue swirling slow and possessive afterward, as if he could imprint the claim permanently.
“No one else,” he panted between marks, hips slamming down harder, taking you impossibly deeper. “No one else gets to see these. No one else gets you like this — stretched out under me, letting me claim every inch.” His tongue traced the fresh hickey on your neck again, slow and possessive, before he bit down on the other side, sucking hard enough to leave a matching bruise. The wet heat of his mouth, the scrape of teeth, the soothing glide of his tongue — it all blurred together with the tight clench of his hole around your cock, pushing you closer to the edge.
You thrust up faster, one hand sliding up his back to fist in his hair, guiding his mouth back to your throat. Sokka moaned against your skin, the sound vibrating through the fresh mark as he sucked another dark spot into existence, then licked over it with long, lazy strokes that made your hips stutter. His own cock rubbed slick and hot between your bodies, untouched but throbbing, the head dragging over your abs with every roll of his hips.
The pace turned punishing. Sokka rode you with single-minded focus, ass bouncing hard, walls fluttering and squeezing around you on every downstroke. He kept marking you — teeth and tongue working across your shoulders and chest in a scattered trail of hickeys — soothing each one with careful licks that left your skin glistening and oversensitive. The combination of pain and care, the way he never stopped looking at you, the way his body yielded and claimed at the same time, had heat coiling tight in your gut.
When he came it hit him hard, body seizing as thick ropes spilled across your stomach and chest, hole pulsing rhythmically around your cock like it was trying to pull you even deeper. The sight and the squeeze dragged you over right after. You buried yourself to the hilt and held him there, pulsing hot inside him while he shuddered through it, still rocking slowly like he didn’t want it to end.Sokka collapsed forward onto your chest, breathing hard, face tucked against your neck. His arms wrapped around you, holding tight even as his body trembled with aftershocks. He pressed one last soft kiss to the cluster of marks he’d left, tongue flicking out to soothe the darkest one with a gentle lick.
“Mine,” he muttered against your skin, the word quiet and certain now, all the earlier tension gone. “Just… mine.”
You ran a hand down his back, slow and soothing, and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. The lantern flickered low, the river’s murmur drifting in through the window, and the world outside the little inn felt very far away.
The jealousy had burned out, leaving only this — the two of you tangled together, warm and claimed and completely sure.
Ima keep pushing out these fics while i can b4 i go MIA. Enjoyy🫡✌️
Sokka x make readers are few to none but I love this one
Can you imagine how stressed Katara would've been by the time she had two kids with Aang and neither of them were airbenders
Like I know he wouldn't be MAD about it but just imagining being in her situation has me so stressed out
Also Aang was lowkey kind of weird for not bothering to immerse Bumi and Kya in airbender culture even though Air Acolytes were a thing and showed that having airbending wasn't a requirement for being part of the culture
I know I said it in notes but here’s my little theory,
Because Bumi would be like a teeen and Kya was a kid maybe they just had the kid mentality of hey I don’t want to learn this cause I can’t get 100 involved. Bumi didn’t learn to airbend until he was 50 when he realized he could, and Kya a water bender and both didn’t have that airbending connection tenzin and Aang had so maybe it was a eh I don’t get this Dee stuff and it’s not as fun. Plus the sibling mentality maybe of ew younger sibling loves this so it’s lame ???
Very late on my yu may art this month, but I’m gonna be combining some to catch up! Here’s some with sokka
Man I’m super rusty at getting back into art
Boy: *whiping her tears* babe don’t cr- *accidently wipes her eyebrows away*…. *tries not to panic*
Girl: *looks at him* what’s wrong babe?
#forgotten post
trending news
underwater temple, underwater monk
underwater rhymes and underwater funk
he sleeps in the sea in an underwater bunk
with mirrors all around him hes an underwater hunk
he’s got underwater junk in his underwater trunk
on the basketball court he does a nautical dunk
he’s got a little stash of underwater skunk
underwater temple, underwater monk
Sick rhymes
HOLY COW! SOMEONE MADE THIS A SONG!!👍✨
this song slaps harder than anything i’ve heard in the past decade
This just made my day with the underwater monk listening to his underwater funk
🚨THIS BLOG POSTS AI SLOP🚨
I grabbed this screenshot before blocking the account. Here the AI is egregious in a number of ways, but it’s harder to tell in the pictures with simpler composition. I actually reblogged one of their posts a couple days ago (since deleted) because I didn’t notice it was AI.
Zutara’s fan artists are some of the best to ever do it so please continue supporting them and block sleepingwhackspurts. And if I ever reblog an AI pic and don’t notice, please send me a message!
The Dancestors
I love these trolls
The Dancestors