#also he’s pregnant with TWINS

[frownyalfred]

I see that pregnancy brain has fully taken a hold of Bruce

Is it the pregnancy, the nesting, or the 30+ years of denied instincts all hitting him at once? Who knows! But man is he gonna make everyone insane (said lovingly).

[edorazzi]

Page 31 of my Miraculous Mentor AU comic A Matter of Trust! In which Felix consciously experiences "friendship" for the first time and Ladybug takes a chance on Chat Noir! 🎧💿

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[grunklefordpines]

HELLO. I HAVE A QUERIE.

IN YOUR JOURNAL, YOU VERY FORMALLY REFER TO SHERMIE AS "SHERMAN PINES", AS OPPOSED TO THE CASUAL TONE IN WHICH YOU REFER TO STANLEY SIMPLY BY FIRST NAME, OR EVEN AS JUST YOUR BROTHER.

I AM UNABLE TO DECIPHER WHY. IS THERE A REASON FOR THAT?

ALSO, WHO THE [FREAK] EVEN IS SHERMIE.

— A VERY CONFUSED READER.

Well,

He’s my and Stanley’s brother.

I’m somewhat estranged from Sherman, though—He doesn’t know me as well as he knows Stan and the kids—

To him, I am one half of the memory that remains in a childhood bedroom once shared by two brothers.

—I try to keep in touch, though.

[irregodless]

so something ive noticed about thank goodness youre here that im not sure if anyone else has put together

ron tells rog "his florence" has 3 jobs and is going to uni next year. heavily implying florence (if not kerry as well) is his daughter

now florence and kerrys last name is pickle and rogs name is peelings. in the beginning during the rogs veg commercial we hear florence refer to him as mr peelings meaning she probably doesnt know thats her dad

meaning that when rogs wife left him because his head was too big she was pregnant with florence and met mr pickle who raised florence and the whole town (or at least ron) knows florence is actually rogs daughter who works part time at his grocery while he watches her grow up from arms length

[fungus-no69]

WHAT IN TARNATION

[tennessoui]

ganymede & zeus but make it obikin

been a while since i did a ficlet for tumblr....this comes out of a discord convo about ganymede!anakin and zeus!obi-wan......sort of dark tho gods are horrible beings with no boundaries

(for @jswander ) (2.3k)

Every muscle in Anakin’s body feels overextended and sore. He cries out from the sensation upon waking, instinctively trying to curl in on himself—anything to get away from the pain.

“Hush now,” a voice above him and below him and around him says. “None of that, beloved,” it speaks again when Anakin fights to tear open his eyes. “Sleep.”

There is nothing Anakin wants to do simultaneously more and less, but he’s never submitted under another’s thumb without a fight. With a great push of effort, he arches his back up, off the comfortable surface he’s laying on. And with what remains of his will, he wrenches his eyes open to survey his surroundings.

He cannot see a thing. White fills his vision, so bright and heated that it feels as if he is burning from the inside out, as if his very being is disintegrating the longer he looks at the light. It is blinding. It is everything. He cannot look away, nor can he close his eyes. His mouth has fallen open and he can hear himself screaming from the pain of it all, the radiance of the being in front of him.

“You stupid boy,” the voice snaps, sounding absolutely furious as the light coalesces into one solid shape, something that looks like a chest, then an arm, then a hand reaching towards him.

Anakin tries to scramble back, away from what will surely feel like a brand against his skin—and oh gods, doess he know what that feels like—but the hand extends faster than he can move, and even when he turns his head away, it catches him. It covers his eyes.

“Drink,” the voice murmurs, reverberating around him. Only then does Anakin notice that a cup has been brought to his lips. His lips seel themselves into a firm line. No. No. “You stupid child,” the voice snaps, “Do as you are told.”

It is the sheer power in the command that causes Anakin to open his mouth, to tip his head back. He is the lion among men, the Conqueror with No Fear, the Queen of Naboo’s Chosen Warrior, and yet—he opens his mouth and yields to the voice, to the hand over his eyes that burns. It feels like renewal, not pain, though that may be because every other part of his body still feels as if it is on fire, the aches from the first few moments of consciousness burning to ash under the pain of that radiance.

“Sleep,” the voice commands, and this time Anakin can do nothing but listen.

—---------

When he awakens next, he can tell from the breeze in the air that he has been moved. It is cool, and the breeze brushes against his skin like a gentle friend, running over his body to reach every part of him.

It is then he realizes that someone has stripped him of his clothes, his armor. He had been wearing armor. He had been preparing to lead his men into battle. He had—

The breeze in the air twirls around his chest and neck, caressing his skin until his nipples stiffen into peaks from the cold. Almost distantly, it sounds as if someone is laughing, an exhale over and over again that conveys their mirth, and Anakin can suddenly feel the breeze on his lips like a lover’s breath.

“Eurus, out,” a voice roars from somewhere that is everywhere and nowhere all at once. Anakin quakes from the sound of it, but the breeze withdraws, tosses out one last laugh that sounds almost like a cackle, before seemingly winking out of existence.

Anakin lies carefully still. The fabric beneath him feels soft, slippery. He’d been to the palace of Naboo only once to pay respect to the queen he fought his wars in the name of. Her personal chambers had been draped in a material that felt similar. So soft that it had felt then almost uncomfortable to touch. 

Anakin had been born a slave. He did not know soft things, nor how to languish against them. The queen had tried to show him how, had made such a persistent overture in the name of pleasure that he had sworn his loyalty to her name—but, privately, to her figure against those silks, the line of her throat, the tilt of her chin as she gave ground and submitted to his desires—and yet he still could never relax in the comfort her status and love had offered. He was not made for it.

He was not made for these silks either, though they certainly felt different against his skin. 

“You are too perfect for your own good, my darling,” the voice says quietly, a hand running through Anakin’s hair carefully. The motion is one filled with strange devotion. Tenderness. “Your beauty could start a war amongst the gods themselves, for they would all like to take you, to have you. Yet you are mine.” 

Anakin can feel his heart stutter at this declaration. The touch of his hair is no longer tender. It is proprietary. He opens his mouth, wets his lips. “I am no one’s,” he whispers, voice hoarse and cracking. 

His defiance makes the voice laugh, a rich sound that reminds Anakin of the sounds of rocks tumbling down a mountainside. “You have sworn yourself to me, Anakin Skywalker, of course you are mine.”

“You are not my queen—“

“You would be wise to not speak of your infidelities so casually,” the voice snaps, and the hairs on Anakin’s arms stand as the air seems to fill with electricity. “You have no queen here.” 

Anakin is silent, his mind and heart racing. Has he been captured? Is he a slave again? He would rather die. 

“Open your eyes, darling. Look upon me and allow me to see the reward of my labor,” the voice turns soft again, coaxing, and the hand leaves his hair to trail down the side of his face, thumb brushing over the bow of his lips.

“Hurt,” Anakin manages to say. The thumb takes his parted lips as invitation and presses into his mouth to rest against his teeth. Anakin thinks about biting it, but there is something inside him that screams at him to be careful. To tread carefully around this voice. This man.

“I know,” the voice croons, “and I apologize for it, treasure. I had not expected you to wake so soon after your ordeal and was not prepared. Humans cannot bear to look upon my godly form. Those who have have perished. You have frightened me with your recklessness.” 

The thumb presses down hard before it withdraws.

“Open your eyes, Anakin,” the voice says. “Your king demands it.” 

Gingerly, carefully, Anakin opens his eyes.

He is met immediately with the sight of a man leaning over him. His face is lined with a well-kept beard, short and practical and dark red. His hair too is the same color of russet, pushed up and off his forehead in a rakish cut. His eyes though—Anakin cannot look away from them. They are glittering, electric blue. No—they are the color of the sky before a thunderstorm, whirling points of gray and dark blue. No—they the early morning sky in the north of Naboo, slate gray and bright.

“Hello there, darling,” the man says. He strokes Anakin’s cheek again, resting his broad hand against his skin.

Anakin can do nothing but stare. This man—he is handsome beyond imagination, but there is something in the set of his face, the jut of his lips, his jaw—perhaps something in his eyes that screams danger.

He is so perfect that he is almost unreal.

“I will miss the blue of your eyes,” the man murmurs, looking at him intently. Critically.

Hungrily.

“What?” Anakin whispers.

The man continues as if he has not heard him. “Yet there is something deeply satisfying in seeing your eyes stained gold from my blood. You wear it well, darling, your godhood.”

Anakin shakes his head. The man’s words—they do not make sense though he says them in the manner any sane man speaks. 

“Truly you were born to be mine,” the man whispers like a sacred declaration, and this finally causes Anakin to flinch away.

“I am no one’s,” he says again, shifting off the fabrics and pushing himself to stand. He was wrong earlier—he is not fully nude, though he thinks he’d prefer to be. There is a cloth like a skirt around his hips, though the fabric only covers the area between his legs, held together by clasps that lay against his hips. And even then, it is light and transparent and doing little to protect his modesty. His chest is bare, but his upper arms have been wrapped in gold coils, one short and one extending almost to his elbow.

The man before him has dressed him as a child would dress a doll and it infuriates him. He is Anakin Skywalker, a lion among men, and he will not suffer this.

“I am no one’s,” he declares with a snarl, turning upon the man and striding forward. “Release me at once!”

The man arches a singular eyebrow but otherwise appears completely unaffected. Anakin feels like roaring, like taking his face into his hands and ripping it apart. 

“Where am I?” He interrogates as he stalks towards the man. Though he is handsome and though he appears strong, his bare torso as visible as Anakin’s and just as well-muscled, Anakin is a warrior and broader than this man, taller too.

Anakin can beat him into submission. 

“Why have you taken me? Return me at once, and I will let you live! I am Anakin Skywalker, I am the Resolute, I am the warrior with no fear and the Queen’s intended. I—”

The man, whose face had been unflinching in response to Anakin’s threats, stands at the mention of the queen, beautiful features twisting into a wicked snarl as he suddenly meets Anakin in the middle. The temperature in the room grows cold and the air becomes heavy with electricity. With something that Anakin does not know how to name.

“If you mention your queen once more, I will kill her,” the man bites out, every word weighted with promise. “I will kill her and see her soul damned to Tartarus. I will take her there myself and string her up amongst her kin. Thieves and pillagers and all those mortals who were foolish enough to attempt to steal from the king of the gods.”

Anakin flinches away, some long buried instinct in him insisting that he put space between himseslf and the predator staring down at him. “Who—who are you?” he asks, question catching in his throat. 

The man’s eyes, stormy blue now and swirling in his rage, lighten at the question. His mouth relaxes. He appears to enjoy answering, for he takes his time with it. “I find myself offended that you have forgotten,” he says, moving to touch Anakin again.

Like a frightened rabbit that knows it has found itself in the jaws of a lion, Anakin lets the bejeweled hands cup his face.

“I am the man who bought you and your mother from your masters when you were but a child. And I am the boy who sold you fruits that never seemed to bruise, no matter how you handled them as you walked home. I am the cat that lurked outside the god king’s temple as you prayed to him for strength and skill and riches, promised yourself to him in return, promised to wage every war in his name, conquer in his colors. And I am the old man who trained you in battle, showed you how to fight and kill and conquer.”

Anakin shakes his head, struck speechless at these words. They are the ramblings of an insane man, but…but this man knows too much about him. No one knows that he was born a slave. Even when he fucked Padmé, he had made sure that she could not see the brand on his leg.

He latches onto the last words, shaking his head harder. “Ben was a crippled old man. You are—” handsome, is the only word that comes to mind.

As if the man has heard it in his head, he grins, gifting him with a flash of white teeth. “Yes, he was, wasn’t he? And you were so young then, all of eighteen years old and eager to prove yourself. I thought if I took my most preferred form, this form, you would never pay attention to my lessons. And I knew if you had offered yourself to me then, I would not have turned you down. Nor would I have let you leave.” Anakin shakes his head once more, but there’s no power in the motion.

“I was the eagle that flew above you as marched into battle, and I was the handmaiden who bore witness to your betrayal, when you promised yourself to the queen of Naboo, as if you had not already promised yourself to me.”

The scowl has returned, marring the man’s perfect features.

Anakin swallows, wetting his lips. “I promised myself to the king of the gods,” he whispers. “To Kenobi.”

“And he has made good on your promise,” the man smiles, one hand falling from his face to cup his neck. “He has taken you from your battlefield, delivered you to Mount Olympus. I have taken you as mine, I have taken what is mine.”

Deep within Anakin, he knows that the man before him speaks the truth. That he is no man at all. That—that—that he is—

“Kenobi,” he whispers, and the king of the gods lets his eyes flutter shut as if he hearing his name from Anakin’s lips causes him great pleasure.

“Yes,” Kenobi growls, adjusting his hold on him to tug him closer to his body.

Anakin is touching a god. A god is touching Anakin. The king of the gods has taken him from the battlefield, from the arms of his bride to be, from the mortal realm all together.

And he is holding him like he has no intention of letting him go.

[angelsdean]

not enough human AU fics take advantage of the concept of casifer by making lucifer be cas's identical twin brother. enough nice AU twin jimmy, let cas have a literal evil twin wreaking havoc on his life

[heavywithplot]

Do you ever devise plots around the children your characters have? What their family life is like? How they raise these kids?

I'm just curious to know as I love your plots and they are so fun and intriguing.

it depends! for stuff like john and the harvester, there are no children involved, so there's nothing there to explore, but for things like the knock off ancient world narratives: absolutely! there's nothing messier than high stakes inheritance claims, and for stuff like that, you need to world build the family life otherwise it's. boring.

I have this one ancient-rome-but-I-filed-the-serial-numbers-off-it story where this one guy hooks up with general of his father (the emperor) (everyone's above 20 here btw), and a week later the emperor is assassinated, and the guy realizes he's pregnant. the general is making a play at assuming power, even though the main character is technically listed in the will as successor, and he hates the idea of the general taking advantage of the pregnancy to legitimize his take over for power, so his best friend comes up with an idea to get married and pass the baby off as his, and there's like. another 20 years of story I've built up in my head after that. there's parricide and everything!

also tysm!! 💞💗💖

[theconfusedartist]

Des and Alex would be soooo domestic. Alex comes back after beating the shit outta infected and Balckwatch troops and just. Collapses on Dana's couch.

They argue over who's allowed to use the controller first and end up watching horror movies for about half an hour before the power and signal cuts out bc all over the island bc they're making sure nothing gets in or out.

They banter over how the movie should or will end, when Des knocks on the door and Alex is all over him when he opens it up, like a massive koala bear. Des is so used to Dr. Mercer doing this, then trying to pretend like it was Des that jumped him like he was losing his mind that it's actually refreshing how Alex is unabashedly cuddling him.

They go over to the apartment that Des took over since most people left the vicinity of Penn Station days after Balckwatch was shooting people in broad daylight and Alex asks "wanna see something I just learned? It's cool as hell". Ofc Des agrees and it's just a montage of them play fighting as Alex shows off ALL of his abilities bc he knows Des won't be scared off or scream, with crashing and ungodly noises of destruction.

Dana peeks in hours later when things are finally silent and sees the two of them snuggled up on a completely destroyed couch (that was destroyed last time they did this, is the damn thing respawning?) and assumes they just got done doing some of the most disturbing sex stuff ever. She doesn't wanna know, doesn't ask, but can't get away without them seeing her and saying hello. It feels like the worst experience every time this happens to her bc she assumes that they're having ungodly weird virus on human sex, and they do, just never the time she peeks into the apartment. They're just playing.

[enjolbear]

this show is so fucked up dude. why is this a KIDS SHOW.

[multishipper-baby]

Since I already thought of birthdays for Jason and Rayray, I decided why not go through my OCs and give them all birthdays? And so I did.

[namor-shuri]

Ladies and gentlemen, Tenoch Huerta Mejía 🩷

being so fucking annoying about a subject on a regular basis that people associate it enough with you to call someone within it “your guy” is so funny. yeah that man is the lead singer of an acclaimed band but he is also My Guy, i guess. that’s true

[emeraldcreeper]

I wish writing could occur in daylight that’d be stellar

Alas I have to go to a fucking baby shower tomorrow and can’t sleep late

And I can’t even ask the good questions when I go, like hey whys this kid also named after a cartoon demon that comes up when you google his name??? Why is that??? Why’s his middle name from GOT? Why’s his sisters middle name also from GOT??? Are you like positive you’re twenty seven years old and not twelve and with bad taste??? Why can’t we use funner demon name than the one she picked?????

Like are we positive? Like…. Absolutely… sure?

Because it doesn’t seem like you’re thinking about [NAME REDACTED] bee-ron (spelled bron) crossing the graduation stage

Or Winnie [unfortunately also bad last name redacted] applying for jobs or the pooh jokes she’s gonna get in like 6 years

[shareeffamily]

Hello , I am Shareef Alamoudy, I am from Gaza married and have twins children Husam and Ahmed, five months old, they came after four IVF. My wife and I came to Egypt in June to do IVF and my wife got pregnant and we got stuck in Egypt after the war, I was an employee in Gaza and my wife was a math teacher and now we have no income, my twins was born in April and one of them (Ahmed) has heart holes, needs custody, a lot of treatments and costs, and now he needs special milk and medication.

I also have herniated disc, I cannot work hard in Egypt.

I need an operation that costs 2,000 euros.

I live in a rental apartment that costs me 200 euros a month.

I need a diaperes, milk and medicine for children that costs me 200 euros a month.

life requirements like food and other things 400 euros.

I'd really appreciate it if you would share my donation campaign in your blog.

This donation campaign will be soon vetted by: @el-shab-hussein @moayesh @nabulsi

Thanks in advance

Please Help me 💔🙏🍉

Please Help me 💔🙏🍉

@appsa @nabulsi27 @palestinegenocide @orblesbian @palebluebutler @pallasisme @fallahifag-deactivated20240722 @vakarians-babe @sayruq @ @plomegranate @riding-with-the-wild-hunt @queerstudiesnatural @tamamita @apollos-boyfriend @riding-with-the-wild-hunt @queerstudiesnatural @palestinegenocide @sar-soor @akajustmerry @annoyingloudmicrowavecultist @feluka @marnosc @flower-tea-fairies @flower-tea-fairies @tsaricides @tsaricides @belleandsaintsebastian @ear-motif @brutaliakent @raelyn-dreams @troythecatfish @4ft10tvlandfangirl

@gaza-evacuation-funds

@gazavetters

@dlxxv-vetted-donations

[mpregzosan]

making updates to sanji uwu

[mommypieck]

⌗︙・dad choso ⸜⸜・

guys imagine dad choso. he was so confused when you got pregnant but soon he became fixated on your pregnant belly. he's more protective of you, but more importantly, he can't leave your belly alone. he lays his head on your thighs while he talks to your belly.

"this is your daddy. hi." he says awkwardly, tickling your stomach.

and when the day comes when he can finally meet his kid, he's hyper. he's jumping around the room, wanting to hold his baby. you aren't sure who's more surprised to see each other, if your baby or choso. they are both looking at each other with wide eyes. in that moment you realize they are basically twins.

choso can't let go of your kid from that moment. he's the type of dad who speaks to him kid nonstop. he boys millions of books and reads to his kid every night because he read that it helps them develop. also he spends too much time finding the perfect carrier because his baby needs to have comfort.

choso also needs to get his night kiss every day or he becomes sad.

one time his kid accidentally falls face first into mud and he's freaking out.

"are you okay, my bug?" he asks, not sure if he should kiss all over his kids face or actually wipe that mud off them.

overall, choso is the best dad possible. you could never ask for better family than you, choso and your little choso twin.