#Forgetting is a kind of mercy

[demaparbat-hp]

Slow mornings in Ba Sing Se.

I needed something soft today, so here's a little sketch for @nerdylizj's breathtaking fic Forgetting is a kind of mercy.

[cyanorhis]

kya and lee my beloveds

from @nerdylizj delicious amazing wonderful fic “forgetting is a kind of mercy”

[nerdylizj]

Lanterns line the exterior of the restaurant, swinging in the light autumn night breeze and casting on orange haze into the empty street. Curfew is nearing and Katara shouldn’t miss the last monorail back to the Upper Ring. She can’t miss the last monorail. Where would she stay tonight?  With Zuko and Iroh? The thought of returning to the Upper Ring in the morning and waving at Sokka – hey, no worries, I stayed with Zuko and Iroh last night! – is funny. Her brother would squawk and Toph would laugh and Aang would gawk. They wouldn’t understand. She barely understands.  Maybe it’s not funny.

read chapter 13 or start chapter 1

[nerdylizj]

i am à MESS

zuko, katara, and baby akio from @nerdylizj's fic "forgetting is a kind of mercy"

this is my favourite thing i have ever made omg, I had so much fun making it and only wanted to kms twice (as opposed to 30 times)

everyone please check out the fic if you haven't read it yet!! it's truly amazing and hands down one of my favourite zutara fics ever!!

[tenwhiteandalusians]

pertaining to the idea of tenax’s band of strays i do think it’s touching that the kids are the ones who saved him and waited outside the door to make sure he’s okay. for all tenax claims to be harsh and cruel it’s a fine indicator of his character that the kids won’t rest without him and are there every time he’s in danger.

[themyscirah]

Aquaman, not you too!

[bragganhyl]

it seems not even githyanki children are immune to the power of birb

[nerdylizj]

i am in shambles

Peaking through the window

just a little bit in love with baby Akio from @nerdylizj ‘s fic here

Local colours version under the cut cause I can’t decide which I like better

[forsakenbythenarrative]

it's interesting to me that the immortal snail has become a sort of modern sisyphus myth. it's the same kind of task, the one you cannot stop doing. sisyphus cannot stop rolling that boulder and you cannot stop running from the snail.

what's especially interesting to me, though, is how we changed it. we made the boulder alive so we could empathize with it. we anthropomorphized death so we could understand it.

and in the end we arrive at this conclusion that it's a mutual curse, a mutual destiny. if you're doomed to the task of running from the snail forever, what of the snail? what of his inescapable destiny? don't you think he's tired too?

[gender-euphowrya]

at this point when i see a screenshot of an overwatch woman i don't even know which one it is anymore

[demaparbat-hp]

First, omg YOUR ZUTARA ART! It's so so beautiful I want to weep.

Do you have any Zutara fic recs? I need some more Zutara in my life lol

Hi! That's so sweet, thank you ❤️

Most of my free time is spent reading, but I almost never save the links...and can never seem to remember the names and/or authors of the fics.

Luckily I saved the links for some of my absolute favorite fics! There are a lot of truly breathtaking works out there and, sadly, I can't mention them all. These are some names in a very long list of favorites. I hope you enjoy them ❤️

Vermillion Seas, Cardinal Skies by @geothewriter

New directions and re-imagined canon events race toward a different endgame. From lighting bending to bloodbending and deal-making in the Spirit World, this canon-divergent/adjacent AU travels a new road, where unforeseen experiences shape who our heroes are, and who they will become. A Zutara slowburn.

Forgetting is a kind of mercy by @nerdylizj

It's death by a thousand cuts, Katara thinks. Saying goodbye to their old lives, forging ahead with whatever amalgamation of reality once they both fully remember everything, whatever reality that may be. Yet, two tethers between them will remain. Or, Five years after Katara and Zuko go missing in Ba Sing Se, Kya and Lee are found living peacefully in the Earth Kingdom countryside.

Eight Years Later by @starlight-tea-writing

Eight years after Sozin’s Comet, everyone’s lives have begun to take shape, their responsibilities pulling them further and further apart. The last three years have been broken up with infrequent and hurried meetings and get togethers, but by happenstance, things play out a little differently for the eighth anniversary of the End of War. Follow what happens in the year after all of Team Avatar gets together again and the found family re-finds each other and grows even larger. Zutara centric, Sukka, Toph/OC, Aang/OC Irregular updates, Saturdays only.

The White Lotus Zuko series by @calcliffbas

Zuko becomes one of the good guys a little earlier than usual, and joins Aang, Sokka and Katara in Omashu. A canon-adjacent series featuring friendship, humor, and romance.

The Spirit Trap by @leradny

In the Southern Water Tribe, Hakoda teaches his second son Katara to channel the grief over the death of his mother in a healthy way. In the Fire Nation Capital, Ozai tries to betroth his eldest daughter Princess Zuko to Iroh's son, and Ursa has to explain why that's not a good idea. [AU: Switched Genders, but just for Zuko and Katara]

Everything I Am by we-were-angels(untilwefallinlove)

There is something inevitable about them; like the certainty of the sun in the morning and the moon and all her stars at night. After all is said in done, how will history tell their stories? (Set after the One Hundred Year War and the years following.)

[cyanorhis]

they are so stupid

[nerdylizj]

He wants more and more and more. Wanting is not new to him. Zuko has wanted his whole life. His birthright, his honor, his home. But wanting Katara is a different kind of wanting.

read chapter 12 or start chapter 1

[lcveblind]

"Do not mistake gentleness and kindness as an inability to be cruel," the princess warns, "for gentleness can be a cruelty of itself."

[itstimeforstarwars]

Working in this office is just fending off all my coworkers offering me a peanut or an almond or a pistachio or a walnut. No thank you I do not like nuts, I say every day, but every day they offer me a peanut or an almond or a pistachio.

[miihho]

Can you please write the salesman next for the kind of guy?🙏🏻🙏🏻

THE KIND OF GUY

(squid game edition boys) nsfw

The Salesman

— HES THE KIND OF GUY who never expected to fall in love—his life was far too consumed by duties and endless responsibilities. Love wasn’t even a consideration, not until you appeared like a sudden burst of color in his monochrome world. At first, it was your skill that caught his attention, the way you effortlessly bested him in ddakji, round after round, slap after slap. Frustrated but undeniably impressed, he handed you a card, feigning indifference. But as you walked away, something unfamiliar stirred within him—a quiet ache, a sense of loss he couldn’t quite place.

He tried to push it aside, burying himself in his work, recruiting others, and maintaining the facade of control. Yet, no matter how hard he tried, his thoughts kept drifting back to you. Then, one day, he saw you again, sitting at your usual spot. You hadn’t joined the game, and strangely, he felt a wave of relief he couldn’t explain. Before he knew it, he was standing in front of you, asking for just one more match. The words came out almost on their own, a fragile excuse to see you again, to hear your voice, or maybe just to keep you close for a little longer.

— He’s the kind of guy who’s spent years trapped in a monotonous cycle—lonely, unfulfilled, and carrying the weight of a life that feels directionless. Every day bleeds into the next, nothing to look forward to, nothing to hold onto. But then, somehow, he acquires you. You, with your rare kindness, your quiet care, and the sweetness that seems to radiate from your every action.

You don’t even realize what you’ve done to him, how you’ve unknowingly become the one bright spot in his otherwise dull world. He starts catching himself stealing glances at you, his gaze softening without his permission. It’s the way you move, the way you speak, the way you bring life into spaces that once felt empty.

And then there are those moments—when you laugh, or when you smile at something simple—that makes his chest tighten in ways he didn’t think were possible anymore. He smiles back without realizing it, the corners of his mouth lifting in a way that feels foreign but good. You don’t just make his days better; you make him feel like maybe, just maybe, there’s still something worth living for. (He's in love)

—He’s the kind of guy who would boldly approach you, his intentions clear but unspoken. He’d ask to get to know you better, his flirting subtle at first—smiles that linger a little too long, looks that make your heart race without explanation. At first, you might be taken aback, unsure of his advances, but when he offers you something you can’t refuse, like money, your resistance crumbles. You agreed, but something in the way he looks at you makes you forget about the deal. Slowly, you start enjoying your time together more than you care to admit.

—He’s also the kind of guy who wouldn’t let anyone hurt you, not for a second. If anyone dared to claim you as theirs, especially some trash asking you out, he’d make sure they paid. He’d go to any lengths to protect what’s his, with no hesitation, no mercy. If it came to it, he wouldn’t think twice about making them disappear, just so they’d know—he was the first one, and that meant something.

But it’s not just about possessiveness. He watches over you, guards you in ways you’ll never fully see, keeping a close eye without you ever knowing. He’s always there, even when you don’t realize it—protecting you from this world that’s full of danger, keeping the darkness at bay as best as he can. It’s his silent promise to you, even if you never ask for it. He doesn’t want to see you hurt, not ever.

— He's the kind of guy who would soil his hands with blood, not hesitating for a second, if it meant protecting you from anything that threatens your peace.

— He’s the kind of guy who will make you fall for him as deeply as he’s fallen for you. He adores your smaller build against his, the way your petite hands fit perfectly when cuffed by his larger ones—it drives him wild. The contrast, the way you seem so delicate in his grasp, makes him want to claim you entirely, to make you his in every way.

But he’s not the kind of man to stop at mere affection. No, he’s the type who thrives on control. He’ll manipulate you carefully, subtly, until the thought of leaving him feels impossible—terrifying even. He wants you to need him, crave him, think of him endlessly. He’s meticulous in the way he weaves himself into your thoughts, ensuring you wake up and fall asleep with only him in mind.

And when he flirts with you, watching as your cheeks turn that irresistible shade of red, your voice faltering under his gaze—it’s everything to him. You turn into a hot, blushing mess, and he loves it. It fuels his obsession, makes him fall even harder for you, because to him, you’re the epitome of perfection. Cute, vulnerable, and entirely his.

—He’s the kind of guy who takes his time with you, the tension between you building like a carefully orchestrated symphony. When the moment feels just right—your faces close, the air thick with anticipation—he starts leaning in, his eyes locked on yours, ready to steal a kiss.

But then it hits you, the realization of what’s happening, and your face flushes a deep red. You turn away in a rush, looking anywhere but at him, your heart racing like crazy. He pauses, letting the moment linger, before chuckling softly. That low, amused laugh of his sends a shiver down your spine, and when you finally sneak a glance at him, he’s grinning.

“Cute,” he murmurs, his tone playful but laced with something deeper. Yeah, he loves teasing you—loves watching you squirm and stutter, loves the way your reactions only make you more endearing to him. And he’ll do it all over again, just to see that flustered look on your face that he can’t get enough of.

—He’s also the kind of guy who knows exactly how to manipulate you, slow and calculated, planting seeds of dependence and trust without you fully realizing it. He knows your vulnerabilities, your habits, and where to find you when you’re at your lowest.

So, when he spots you crying at your usual secluded spot, alone and trembling, he makes his move. Sitting beside you, his presence feels warm, comforting—like he’s the only safe harbor in a storm. He wraps his arms around you, pulling you close, his voice soft and soothing as he whispers, “There, there, it’ll be alright. I’m here.”

As you cry into his chest, he murmurs gentle reassurances, “It’s alright, baby. Cry it all out.” His hand strokes your back, his touch deliberate and grounding, and he smiles. Not the kind of smile you can see—this one is hidden, smug, satisfied. His plan is working perfectly, and you’re falling deeper into his web. And oh, how he loves it—watching you lean into him, needing him, trusting him like he’s your savior. That’s exactly where he wants you.

— He’s the kind of guy who thrives on control, especially in moments of intimacy. The kind who, with practiced ease, unclips your bra with just one hand, never breaking the intensity of your kiss. And when he pulls back, his lips hovering just above yours, he’ll smirk and whisper in that low, teasing voice, “I’m not done with you yet.”

When you bury your face into his neck, trying to stifle your moans out of shyness, he doesn’t miss a beat. The scent of his cologne and aftershave lingers, intoxicating you further, as he lets out a deep chuckle, amused at your attempt to hide.

And when he’s got you pinned beneath him, completely at his mercy, he makes sure you’re not holding back. He loves to hear you scream, loves the way his name falls from your lips like a prayer. Even when a phone call interrupts, he doesn’t stop. Oh no, he sees it as a challenge, a chance to tease you further. He’ll move slower, deeper, just to hear your breath hitch as you struggle to keep your composure.

If you try to stay professional, biting your lip to muffle the sounds threatening to escape, he’ll smirk, his pace relentless. “Go on,” he’ll purr, his voice dripping with mischief. “Try to keep quiet, baby. Let’s see how long you last.” And with that, he’ll have you unraveling, barely able to focus, completely at his mercy.

— He’s the kind of guy who doesn’t just tease you with words—he lets his actions speak louder. Even in public, fully clothed, he’ll find a way to make you lose your composure. He steps in close, his large hands resting on your waist, pulling you just enough that his hips press against yours.

That’s when you feel it—the unmistakable hardness straining against his pants, pressing firmly into you. His voice drops, low and dripping with desire, as he leans into your ear and whispers, “Feel that, baby? That’s what you do to me. You’ve got me all worked up, and I don't think I can wait any much longer."

The heat of his breath against your ear sends a shiver through you, and his bulge pressing into you makes it impossible to think straight. His grip tightens slightly, and the smirk playing on his lips tells you he’s enjoying every second of your reaction. He knows exactly what he’s doing, and he loves driving you wild, even when you’re supposed to be keeping things composed.

— He's the kind of guy who leaves his mark on you, a silent declaration that you're his and his alone

— He's the kind of guy who would pin you against the wall, bite your lip, and pull your hair—taking control in a way that leaves you breathles.

—He’s the kind of guy who’ll leave you completely undone, your body trembling as you take every inch of his cock, tears streaming down your cheeks while you beg for mercy. But he doesn’t stop—he thrives on the way you break beneath him, his voice dripping with a wicked mix of praise and degradation.

“You're being such an obedient little cum slut,” his hand tilting your chin so you have no choice but to meet his gaze. “Taking me so well like a fucking whore, like you were made for my cock. My perfect little bitch.” he said, his tone low and velvety, sending shivers down your spine as he continued to fuck his cock in and out of you. Your walls clenching hard around his massive cock as he fills you up with his fat load, still pounding into your hole not letting even a single drop of his release go to waste. (He has a breeding kink)

And if that's not enough. His thick, veiny cock would plunge relentlessly into your dripping folds, the sound of wet flesh slapping against wet flesh filling the air. Each powerful thrust drives him deeper, his heavy balls smacking against your ass as he ravages your insides with unbridled lust while you're in a mating press. He is determined to make you the mother of his child, so he will pound your fertile womb over and over again until it's full of his cum. If his cum is seeping out of your pussy, he would pump it back with his fingers inside while he also plays with your swollen clit making you overstimulated as you beg him to stop. (he just fucking loves you crying and begging for him and only him. )

— Hes the kind of guy who craves more than just conception; he yearns to enslave your senses, to make your body crave the feeling of being utterly filled by him. He wants ypu to beg for his cock, to plead for the intense pleasure-pain of being stuffed to overflowing, regardless of your reproductive cycle.

The very thought of you, round and ripe with his seed, brings him unparalleled satisfaction. He delights in the idea of your addiction to his cum, to the exquisite bliss of having your cunt packed to capacity with his thick, hot essence. For him, there is no greater joy than knowing you're forever changed, forever his, your body and soul irreversibly marked by his possession.