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YOU ARE THE REASON
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$LAYYYTER

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Sweet Seals For You, Always
Keni
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"

blake kathryn
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her

if i look back, i am lost
art blog(derogatory)
Misplaced Lens Cap

Origami Around

JBB: An Artblog!

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Xuebing Du
Sade Olutola
Peter Solarz
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@trinpooki
im the dj screaming w laughter
HAPPY PRIDE MONTH HONEYS!👩🏾❤️💋👩🏾🏳️🌈✨
fun fact: it’s scientifically impossible to find a rick grimes fic on tumblr without the reader being infantilized, no more than 21 years old, white, in a sundress, bratty and practically a child
IN THE LIVING YEARS: A TWD STORY -> D. DIXON
SOME THINGS TO CONSIDER BEFORE YOU READ! this is an x reader experience, however i have provided your character with an established backstory and pre-outbreak profession. that being said, your appearance is 100% ambiguous (excluding your female anatomy and pronouns). your ethnicity, body type, etc, are at no point specified.
each chapter has its own set of warnings specific to its contents and any potential triggers will be tagged accordingly. recurring themes such as violence, strong language, sex, sensitive subject matter, and death are the main topics to be wary of. if you’re familiar with twd, you’ll know what to look out for and what to avoid.
SEASON ONE.
THEN THERE WERE THREE.
as someone who just started the walking dead not too long ago and is obsessed (currently on s7) this is amazing!!
hiyaya — maybe that trope with bucky where its like:
“wheres your boyfriend?” “
hes not my boyfriend.”
“does he know that?”
The sun is sinking low, orange light spilling across the lake behind the Wilson house, music playing low from a speaker someone dragged outside. You’re barefoot in the grass, nursing a sweating bottle of beer, laughing at something Joaquin just said when a voice drifts in from your left.
“So,” the guy says, leaning a little too close. Some friend-of-a-friend Sam invited. Cute in a harmless, gym-bro kind of way. “Where’s your boyfriend?”
You blink. “My what?”
ELLABS ON MY TOMODACHI ISLAND!!?? UM YESSSSS PLS!!?
I really miss those old avengers tower fics
1. Clint in the vents
2. Bruce and Tony in the lab... science bros
3. Cap being accused and called out by his team ... either it's the "language" or "I understood that reference"
4. Loki for some reason being imprisoned in the tower by Odin to learn humanity blah blah
5. Thor and his poptarts
6. Natasha and wanda being the bestie
7. Reader either dating Loki or Bucky
8. Fury calling out reader initially as a threat as they were an orphan who was a lineage of witches type of trope. OR reader is Tony's kid.
9. Bucky randomly becoming besties with Sam and them having their own fights.
10. Peter and Shuri becoming besties with reader
11. Maria, pepper, wanda, Natasha and reader having sleepovers.
12. Tony having a party every time after a mission. Everyone ends up trying to lift thor's hammer and reader turns out to be worthy.
13. Loki teaching reader how to use magic.
And the list goes on....
Just a small rant… We can ignore but idk I need to get words out and this weekend is going to be hard for me due to my loss and whatever
But as a person who feels deeply with emotions, sympathy, empathy, literally everything in that category….
I don’t understand how people can come around after someone loses a loved one and just… lack human emotion? Like completely disregard that there’s a group of people who are vulnerable and truly affected by losing someone they loved more than anything in the world and you’re just existing in this same space as them in the moment and disrespect or truly just don’t seem to care about the situation at hand.
Like how can people function without basic feelings? I beg so affected by the smallest thin gas if I see another person sad or hurt and I genuinely can’t understand how other humans don’t function the same way
hello xmen yuri nation, unfortunately for you guys i still think im funny
Daughters First Festival || Zuko ||
A/n: Bless those who worked hard on the movie, FUCK PARAMOUNT FOR BEING GREEDY ASSHOLES. Sidenote: If you are going to watch the leaks then please find away to support only the people that worked hard. They don't deserve any hate....but fuck paramount.
Your daughter’s first memory of the Fire Lord Festival is not the crowds.
It’s not the banners or the drums or the way the palace glows like a living ember once the sun begins to set.
It’s your hand.
Small fingers wrapped around yours, sticky with candied plum syrup, her other hand clutched tightly in her father’s sleeve like she’s afraid he might disappear into the noise if she lets go.
Zuko keeps glancing down at her.
Not in the stiff, ceremonial way he used to glance at crowds, no...this is softer. Quieter. Like he’s counting breaths, grounding himself through the warmth of her grip.
“She’s staring,” he murmurs to you, leaning down just enough that only you can hear. “Is she overwhelmed?”
Your daughter looks up at him at the sound of his voice, eyes wide and bright, cheeks flushed from excitement and heat. She doesn’t say anything—she’s still at the age where words come slowly but she squeezes his sleeve tighter and grins.
You smile. “She’s amazed.”
Zuko exhales. “Okay. Good.”
He says it like he’s passing some invisible test, shoulders less tense.
The Fire Lord Festival has been rebuilt from the ground up, no displays of dominance, no roaring infernos meant to intimidate. Instead, there’s warmth. Lanterns shaped like dancing flames. Street performers bending fire into floating koi and drifting petals. Musicians laughing as they play as others danced.
The people bow when they see Zuko.
Not sharply. Not fearfully like they used too, they all now with gratitude.
Your daughter notices.
She pauses, right in the middle of the walkway, and tilts her head as yet another group lowers themselves respectfully before her father.
She looks up at him, confused.
“Daddy?” she asks, soft and uncertain.
Zuko stops instantly. “Yes?” he answers, kneeling so they’re eye level, completely unconcerned with the fact that he’s halting the Fire Lord procession.
“Why… people do that?”
Your heart tightens.
Zuko doesn’t hesitate. “Because I help take care of them,” he says simply. “And because they’re being polite. But you don’t have to do it back unless you want to.”
She considers this very seriously, cheeks puffed and then she waves.Just a small, enthusiastic wave, fingers wiggling like she’s greeting duck-turtle hatchlings.
The crowd laughs.
Zuko blinks for a moment then laughs too, a quiet, breathless sound that looks like it surprises him every time it happens.
“That works,” he says.
She beams like she’s solved something important.
Aang arrives later, a grin already plastered on his face as he comes gliding down into the festival on a current of air that sends streamers fluttering and children squealing. He lands lightly, already smiling, already barefoot, already radiating a joy that feels impossible to contain.
“Aang,” you greet warmly.
Zuko straightens instinctively but not stiffly. Not like he used to.“Aang,” he says, nodding.
Your daughter stares, wide eyes, head tilted back as she kept her gaze only on him.
Aang crouches immediately, eyes lighting up. “Whoa. You must be the famous one.”
She let's out gasp then presses herself closer to Zuko’s leg, peeking out with curiosity.
“This is my daughter,” Zuko says, pride threading through every word. “And...” He clears his throat. “—this is Aang. The Avatar....My friend
Her eyes widen.“Va-tar,” she repeats carefully.
“That’s me!” Aang grins. “Do you wanna see something cool?”
Zuko glances at you, hesitant. Protective.
You nod. “She’ll be okay.”
Aang lifts his hands slowly, gently, and forms a tiny swirl of air that lifts a single lantern ribbon into a floating loop. It spins lazily, harmless and beautiful.
Your daughter gasps. She reaches out instinctively, fingers brushing the ribbon as it drifts. She then explodes in giggles.
“Again!” she demands, voice full and delighted now.
Zuko watches the whole thing like he’s seeing the world rewritten in front of him.
Aang catches his eye and smiles soft, knowing.
“You’re doing good,” Aang says quietly.
Zuko swallows. Nods once.
As night falls, the lanterns are released.
Your daughter sits on Zuko’s shoulders now, tiny hands tangled in his hair as she points at the sky.
“Fire stars!” she shouts.
“They’re lanterns,” Zuko corrects gently. Then pauses. “But… yeah. Fire stars.”
You stand beside him, your arm around his waist, feeling the steady heat of him beneath your palm—not the wildfire it once was, but a home.
The people cheer as the sky fills with drifting light.
Your daughter claps.
She leans forward and presses a kiss to the top of Zuko’s head, entirely unprompted.
Zuko freezes.
You feel him go still beneath your touch.
Then his shoulders shake.
He doesn’t cry. Not exactly.
But his voice is thick when he says, “I’m glad she remembers this.”
You rest your head against his arm. “She will cherish this.”
He looks at you then looks at you. “When I was her age,” he says softly, “my memories were… different.”
You squeeze his hand. "These are hers,” you reply. “Because of you.”
He nods, unable to speak for a moment.
Your daughter yawns, finally, eyelids drooping as the last lanterns fade into the dark.
She curls against his head, half-asleep.“Daddy?” she murmurs.
“Yes,” he answers instantly.
“Fire… pretty.”
He smiles. “Yes,” he says. “It is.”
And for the first time, standing in the heart of the Fire Nation with his family wrapped around him, Zuko believes it, not as a ruler, not as a symbol, but as a father watching his child grow up in a world he helped make kinder.
This is the festival she remembers.Warm hands. Soft light. Laughter.
And a father who never lets go.
FAHHHH DOMESTIC ZUKO
Klaus Mikaelson X Soulmate!Reader x Elijah Mikaelson
Word Count- 3.2k
Warnings- swearing, death, sacrifices
“Ya, I’d rather kill myself.”
“Y/n, please! Elena needs you!”
“What Elena needs is for everyone to stop breathing down her neck for 10 minutes and making her feel shitty for being a vampire,” I roll my eyes as I enter the Mikaelson kitchen.
Elijah stands at the stove, cooking, and from the smell, I assume it's French toast. He turns to smile at me as I enter, but it drops slightly into a knowing look when he hears Caroline squawk on the other end of the phone line.
“She’s got no humanity, Y/n! She’s going around killing people, innocent people!”
I park myself on the island stool, “Caroline?’’
She goes silent for a moment.
“What?”
“How many people have you killed?”
Elijah huffs quietly, and I bite down my smirk.
“That’s not…it’s not the same.”
I tsk.
i haven’t read this chapter yet because i’m at work (literally standing at the register typing this) but i’m definitely reading this on my break or when i get off! 😩
I love him and his limp dick. You guys are fake old man lovers if you don't like a little erectile dysfunction
Started playing Uncharted 4 this week, and Nathan Drake has once again proven the fact that a man is at his hottest when he gets beaten up.
And Nadine Ross has proven the fact that a woman is at her hottest when slipping out of her pumps to beat somebody up.
I love this game already.
The question is: how are there zero fics of them fucking immediately after?
the other question: why are there barely any nate fics and the ones we have is tom holland nate (i love tom BUT GAME NATHAN 😩)
𝜗℘ ˖ ࣪ . ˖˙ trueform dad!sukuna spending time with you and your curious children :: heian era. idea by @deartoru.
the late afternoon sun filters through the paper screens of the estate and casts warm golden light across the engawa where you sit with your family.
sukuna lounges against a thick wooden pillar with four powerful arms draped casually—one pair folded behind his head while the other rests on his knees. your two toddlers, barely three years old, toddle around him like curious little spirits, their small hands patting at his tattooed skin with unabashed wonder.
“papa,” your daughter chirps first, her chubby fingers gripping one of his lower arms, tugging it gently as if testing its reality, “why you got four arms? like… like spider?”
your son, never one to be left out, clambers onto sukuna’s lap and pokes at the second set of arms with a sticky finger. “yeah! papa monster? or… big strong?”
sukuna’s crimson eyes narrow, but there’s no real bite in the growl that rumbles from his chest. the king of curses, reduced to a glorified jungle gym by two tiny humans who share your features more than his. his upper arms flex instinctively, one hand coming down to ruffle your daughter’s messy hair while the lower pair scoops your son up against his broad chest.
“monster?” sukuna scoffs, voice laced with that familiar arrogance. yet his touch is surprisingly gentle as he balances both children without effort. “fools. these arms mark power. i conquer with these very hands. slaughtered humans, crushed armies—” he pauses when your oblivious daughter giggles and tries to climb the extra limb like a tree branch.
a low huff escapes him despite himself, “oi, brat. that’s not a toy.”
you watch from your spot, smiling softly as you sip your tea. your husband may rule with terror across the land, but here, in this quiet corner of your home, he’s simply. . .a father. the way his extra arms cradle the toddlers so they don’t slip, the subtle shift of his tattoos as he adjusts to their wriggling—it warms something deep in your chest.
“mama says you strong,” your son declares as he presses his cheek to one of sukuna’s pecs, “but why not two like us? more better?”
sukuna’s gaze flicks to you, a smirk curling his lips, sharp teeth glinting. “because your father is no ordinary man, whelps. four arms mean i can hold both of you at once… and still have two left to protect your mother.”
one of his upper hands reaches out, idly brushing a stray lock from your face with unexpected tenderness. the lower pair tickles your children lightly, drawing squeals of delight.
“see?” sukuna rumbles, lifting them higher so they dangle playfully from his grasp. “efficiency. strength. and the ability to discipline little pests who ask too many questions.”
but there’s no real threat—only the extremely rare, softened edge reserved solely for his family.
your daughter plants a sloppy kiss on his cheek, unbothered by the markings or the extra limbs. or the fact that her father is a ruthless man. to her, he's just papa.
“love papa’s four arms! best for hugs!”
sukuna huffs, but the way his four arms pull all three of you closer—two for the kids, two drawing you into the pile—says everything. in this moment, the fearsome ryomen sukuna is utterly defeated by toddler logic and sticky fingers.
really needed this after the day i had at work
✶⋆.˚ baby time with choso.
♯ just a drabble for today! i think i have an obsession with jjk characters as dads.. [part two.]
Steam fills the bathroom, turning the air warm and hazy, thr faint scent of baby soap lingering in every corner.
Choso kneels beside the tub, sleeves pushed up past his elbows, with his hair tied in a messy bun. His attention never leaves the tiny figure in front of him, who is currently splashing water everywhere.
Droplets scatters across his arms and dampen the front of his shirt, but he only smiles, eyes soft.
"Hey, gentle," he coos, voice warm and soft, his hand sliding closer to steady your son's body. "You're gonna flood the room at this point," he teases.
Another kick sends water over the edge of the tub. Choso laughs quietly, the sound low and fond.
The splashing slows after a moment. Your son pauses, looking at the door. His eyebrows knitted together as he lets out a small whimper.
"What is it?" he murmurs gently. "What's wrong?"
Your son lifts his tiny fat hands as if reaching for something that isn't there. Another sound, cracked slightly like he's going to cry.
"Oh," Choso whispers, "Looking for mama?"
Your son lets out a small sound of agreement.
"She's still sleeping, sweetheart," he murmurs, brushing your son's baby hair. "You kept her up all night, remember?"
A tiny whimper answerd him.
Choso chuckles softly. "Mhm, i know you miss her," he coos, "But lets let her sleep, yeah? It's just the two of us for now."
He cups water in both hands and lets it fall slowly over your son's shoulder, trying to distract him.
"There you go, nice and warm, just how you like it." he says, thumb stroking the soft skin in absent circles.
Your son lets out a surprised babble, tiny hands slapping on the surface, sending splashes back at Choso.
Choso laughs under his breath. "Oh, you're back at it again!"
They remained like that for a few minutes until your son's movements slowed, eyes drooping.
"Alright," Choso announces. "Time to get you out."
He lifts him up carefully and wraps a warm towel snugly around the small body. "You did so well, baby."
Your son presses his face to his neck, tiny fingers clutching his shirt.
Choso has one hand craddling the back of you son's head as he rocks him gently. "Yeah, that's better," he says, pressing a soft kiss to his damp hair.
"Let's get dressed and see mama, yeah?"
© mochaization 2026. DO NOT copy, reconstruct, reupload on any other platform, or feed my works to AI.
shit domestic fic with babies… my weakness
Klaus Mikaelson X Soulmate!Reader x Elijah Mikaelson
Word Count- 3.6k
Warnings- swearing, nakedness, mentions of death, mourning
A jolt of cold air hits me, sending a shock down my spine. Confused, I open my eyes to find myself on the ground, staring up at the forest. Then the pain hits—a sharp whimper escapes as my body feels like every bone has been ripped out and shoved back in.
The full moon.
A stronger wave of pain escapes me as two arms wrap themselves around my waist. I look over my shoulder and see Klaus’ sleeping form.
My eyes almost burst out of my skull as I see our bodies.
What the fuck happened last night?
And why the FUCK are we both naked!?
—
WOLF TRANSFORMATION YESSSSSSS