#baby boy come back

[nandors-girlwife]

Where are the Joey ramone fangirls??? Where is the content??? AM I ALONE HERE

[dragonace1555]

Was thinking about how funny it would be if Genn had the idea of putting a tracker on Anduin the second he comes back. But this would strictly be a preventative measure for Anduin’s safety of course ( got to prevent another Shadow Lands incidence from happening again).

[planarbindings]

world’s messiest blood mage. amen

[strange-mage]

Nanami lives

[yuwuta]

yuuta is the boyfriend BAWLING when he has to drop you off at the airport. it doesn’t really matter how long you’ll be gone, he will be crying, and he’s gonna cry just as hard when he picks you up again too. but that’s not surprising, neither is saying that satoru smothers you in affection and soft gazes but waits until you’re gone and he’s back home to let the tears out. the real gag is that toji is also crying. it doesn’t happen when he drops you off, or when he gets home, and honestly he’s fine for the first few days—crabbier than usual, slower than usual, groggier than usual—but, fine. it’s somewhere around the third or fourth day of your absence that he finds himself crying, unintentionally. he feels the tears on his lips before he realizes they’re falling from his eyes, and there’s a moment of confusion and then a soft laughter of disbelief before he lets the rest of them fall. he doesn’t really know why he’s crying even while he’s crying. he doesn’t sob or make noise or smush his head into a pillow, but when he gets up to wipe his face, he’s confronted with his reflection in the mirror and that’s when it hits him: he’s sad. if you’d asked toji, he’d say he hasn’t experienced true sadness before that moment. despite all the shitty things in his life, he held a sort of neutral, it is what is attitude about it all—but that’s not the case with you. toji’s sad because he misses you and it’s probably the first time in his life he cries because he can Feel something is missing inside of him

[drrav3nb]

MARCUS & LUCA | THE BEAR SEASON TWO

[bakudekublogblog]

the funniest part about coming to mha late, was I knew bkdk was extremely controversial and had seen some of the discourse about from the outside, so when I finally decided to watch it I was shocked to discover just how much of the plot revolved around izuku having a huge crush on kacchan

[shima-draws]

Me? Drawing Tododeku for the first time since *checks calendar* APRIL of LAST YEAR???

[l9vepotions]

sigh… i miss my silly gf

[fangirls-just-want-to-have-fun]

me at the end of episode 5 of agatha all along:

[luvie-42]

want him on my lap with one leg over my arm and the other hanging off while his head is thrown back on my shoulder and hear his moans and whimpers and groans while his hips buck into my fist and his pre leaks from the angry red tip and hear him call for mommy— WHO SAID THAT-?? 😦

[cryptidclownz]

ive had this idea cooking in my little brain for a while and finally got around to doing it!!!

quick explanation here and the longer one coming when the story is more developed:

the general idea is that the lamb finds a cat that looks. way too similar to narinder. so obviously they do the most rational thing which is taking him to their cult and dressing him up like their god!! naryn is terrified of the lamb and forced into discipleship which leads to him trying to run away and then beat up which leads to him trying to run away and then beat up which lea

[ikram1909]

Gavi, Ale and Ansu went out to dinner together tonight ❤️❤️

[s0fter-sin]

ghost stares at the ceiling, chest heaving in a harsh pant; sweat ice on his clammy flesh and soaked into the sheet he restlessly kicks away.

ears still ringing, his fingertips blindly drift down to trail along his vivisection scar. he half-expects blood to smear in their wake. his own line of solomon, who ordered him split in twain; half of him given to a grieving mother and half left with the grieving to be.

just for both his broken halves to be rejected.

what did it make him that his mother grieved him more than she loved him? that she begged to be relieved of him more adamantly than she begged to receive him? why did his worth spill out with his drawn blood? why was his pain lesser than hers?

his hand flexes, digging into the raised scar like it’ll part beneath his fingertips to plunge into his mangled insides. no one knows the cruelty of reforming the halved; his name, his being, not nearly as important as his body when he was stripped from himself. no one knows the pain of healing and understanding losing pieces of yourself means losing your value along with them.

how many more pieces did he have to lose before he was halved once more? before his very presence incurred grief so strong it was better to be rid of him than cradle his bloodied remains?

did the infant fight himself? did he age always at odds with himself; his halves never truly whole? he hopes he wasn’t, that he was spared the loss of self; the fear that one may be welcomed over the other.

who will he lose when the inevitable comes? when he’s ripped apart again? simon? or ghost? is it better to be cursed with choice just like his mother or live with an aftermath chosen for him? does it matter if in the end, he convinces himself there was nothing of him left to lose?

his head lolls to the side and the wild buck of his chest slows. he watches johnny beside him, his face lax with the rare peace of sleep; his cheek squished against the pillow, his lips pursed as long breaths escape him.

johnny. soap. never torn asunder but two all the same.

he carefully reaches out and ghosts his fingers along the jagged scar on his chin. even in sleep, he presses into his bloodied touch. he’s never fled his half-flesh, never shies away from his gore as it spills unbidden from his cleaved torso. he holds on where his mother let him go; cups his stomach to hold his insides in place and never minds the blood that drips through his fingers.

simon will never let him become his own solomon and cannibalise himself. he will never let him question which half of him has more value; which pieces he can afford to lose before he’s cast aside.

ghost’s soap. simon’s johnny. his.

whole, in any incarnation.

[egotisticaleverything]

NOOOOOOIIRRRR COME BAAAAACK I CANT DEAL W THIS IMPOSTER EARVINGGGGG PLEASE UR TOO SWEET FOR THE SEVEN PLZ TELL ME THEY HID YOU IN VOUGHT TOWER SOMEWHERE I NEED YOU BACK MY POOR BABY

He’s NEVER done anything wrong EVERRRRRR

[yuwuta]

Wow I have been nonstop thinking about tennis king yuuta and his little baby boy I’m going to kill you (affectionate) - @yuutito

teeheeeeeeeee….. here’s some more, aleks :’) enjoy :))))))

“Everybody thinks he looks like me, but I don’t see it that way. Maybe it’s because every time I look at him, I see my wife and I’m reminded of her […] I’m a little biased so I see her in everything.” 

You find yourself with tears welling in your eyes the more you read into Yuuta’s latest magazine interview. Between his sweet quotes and the pictures of him with your son, it’s taking everything in you not to burst into full-blown tears. 

Your boys look so handsome. You and Yuuta shared your concerns with publicizing your child at such a young age, but you two came to the conclusion that you’d rather have the control in the narrative than to let private family pictures be leaked uncontrollably. As another point of reassurance, Yuuta’s career provided him with just enough lime-light to be a household name without the crazy fame and criticism that came along being a true celebrity. Besides—Yuuta talked enough about you and your son in press conferences and interviews that it was bound to happen sooner rather than later. 

The article wasn’t entirely about you, or your family—or at least, you’re sure it wasn’t intended to be; you knew your husband had a knack for rambling about his loved ones, even where work was concerned. As you continue to read, you find a segment where the author compared Yuuta’s current statements with something similar he’d said about you twelve years ago—at the very start of his professional career: “If I owe this [winning Gold] to anybody, it’s my girlfriend. She’s always believed in me, even when I didn’t believe in myself. I wouldn’t have qualified or even thought to qualify if it weren’t for her.” 

It feels like you and Yuuta were just two kids in love back then. You didn’t think it could be more than that—you didn’t think you could love Yuuta more than you did all those years ago, but somewhere along the way just being in love wasn’t enough to describe it; Yuuta became your partner, someone you loved fundamentally, but also because you couldn’t stand to see yourself without him. And just when you thought you couldn’t love anyone nearly as much as you love him, you turn the page to a picture of your husband and son peeping through the holes of a racket and your heart feels full. 

When you scan the image more closely, you realize that it isn’t just any racket—it’s an old one, one you’d given to Yuuta as a gift probably back in high-school. You had no idea he’d kept it, but you suppose you shouldn’t be all that surprised; Yuuta is nothing if not sentimental. 

“Ah, there she is~” Yuuta’s voice cuts through your thoughts. When you turn, you see him, with your baby boy on his hip, sliding the back porch door closed. 

Both boys approach you with a smile on your face, and you set the magazine aside to sit up in the lounge chair to greet them. Yuuta presses a kiss to your forehead, then your lips before you do the same to your son. Immediately after, he reaches his arms out for you, and Yuuta chuckles, “You wanna be with your mama? Can’t blame you, I missed her, too.” 

He hands the baby off to you, and takes a seat on the other end of the chair, reaching over to coo at his son as you smother his face in kisses. 

“How was the farmer’s market?” you question, letting the baby settle into your lap. 

“Good, he picked out some very bright peppers, and we got some more strawberries, know you’ve been craving them,” Yuuta smiles, reaching over to pat your son’s head, when the closed magazine catches his eye, and he reaches for it, quickly flipping through, “Ah—I guess that interview’s out. He’s grown so much, even though it was only a few months ago.” 

You find the blush on his cheeks beyond endearing. Yuuta always finds room to be bashful no matter how many times he’s waxed poetic about his love for you, or his family—his cheeks always stain pink like the first day you met him. 

“It’s sweet. You’re sweet,” you smile, sparing a hand to run through Yuuta’s hair, charmed by the way he leans into your touch, “I didn’t know you still had that racket.” 

“Of course, I keep everything you give me,” he says, earnestly. He closes the magazine and scoots a little closer, taking advantage of the proximity and of your touch to lay his head on your shoulder, “Did you… read all of it?” 

“Almost, but no, why?” you question, with a light-hearted grin, “Did you say something that would lead the world to believe you’re somehow even more in love with me? Because you might already be past the threshold, dear.” 

Yuuta hums. He reaches to take you son out of your lap and carefully shifts himself to that he’s laying down, his head on your lap, and the baby in his arms, happily giggling and cooing as Yuuta holds him up. He lowers and raises him back and forth a few times, nuzzling their noses together when their faces are close, before sitting him up on his chest.

Then he tilts his head up to look at you, wide, love-filled eyes blinking slowly before he says, “Maybe… depends on if me saying I want more kids is past the threshold or not.”