#fluffy smurf

[tanunigans]

It's Fluffy time !!

[bluebluebluewoods]

He’s pouring his heart out- is nothing gonna come of that?

[fluffypigeonsandowls]

Drops 2 of my other OC’s

(I really thought i posted it Here but I guess not. Which is really stupid I know. :C anyways, those where the 2 beans @miithesillibunny drew for our Arttrade once. <3)

Meet Pitch (the darkblue goo-y one on the right who’s the creation of a demon <3)

And my still nameless flowerboi <3(made out of plants by a witch)

Some more vague info about Pitch: they feed themselves with the trauma/bad memories from others. The more they absorb, the stronger they get 😄

oh and a little info about my bean made out of plants: He can bend and twist his body at his will. For example, they can make their arm split up into multiple large vines, etc. He can also merge with the ground or any plant. This is especially handy for sneak-attack situations. Or to travel underground for example, or in the roots or trunk of a tree, etc.

[averlym]

May I please request some soft parrlyn please

morning vs night gfs

[funnibluecreturs]

Hello! :D

Friendly reminder that the Smurfs are canonically ticklish. :)

[mxviko]

Dip week day 3: Fluff/Angst

“ My arrival shall note the end of the Beginning, the beginning of the End, the new reign of my father! “

But never did he think when the day would come he’d care about anyone. At least the little angel is locked in heaven, a peaceful cage. The world burns, no longer can they mingle. The world to Damien was so dull, even in fire.

“The world seems so much brighter with you around.” He murmured

“Do not worry Damien…we’ll find a way! Just…don’t burn everything too fast.”

Love finds a way, even between angels and demons right?

[holdmytesseract]

hi friend! 👋

I have a cute and fluffy request for the Baby Fever AU! 💕Narfi's first steps, Loki and Ella are out on a daddy-daughter date (you can choose where they're going) while Narfi and reader are at home together.

While reader has her attention on other tasks, little Narfi takes his first steps towards reader. When Loki and Ella returns home, reader surprises them with Narfi walking towards them 🥹💚

Growing Up

☆ The Baby Fever AU ☆

Loki x Y/N feat. Narfi & Ella

Summary: Narfi takes his first steps, causing you and Loki to realise that he's not so tiny anymore...

Warnings: fluff, fluff and even more fluff!

Word Count: 1,7k

a/n: I know it took me quite some time, friend, and I'm truly sorry for it. 🥺 Also, I really hope that you like it and that I did your request justice. Thank you again for the amazing moodboards you made for me, @chennqingg ! 💖

Baby Fever Masterlist °☆• Loki Masterlist °☆• Masterlist

divider by @fictive-sl0th <3

Today felt like a pretty normal Thursday to you. Getting up at seven in the morning, making sure Ella got ready for school, while Loki prepared breakfast - bless him - and of course actually dropping your daughter off at school. Since you had 'Ella duty' this week, your husband tended to little Narfi and got the very young man dressed, fed and ready for the day. Sometimes, it was pretty chaotic and quite hectic. Especially on the days you were working as well - not full-time, though. You were still in maternity leave, but Nick allowed you to work two or even three days a week, if you needed a change of scenery or just a break. Just like today. Sure, Loki had to return to being an Avenger as well, but you always made it work. Besides, the others were happy to jump in as a babysitter as well.

After dropping Ella off at school, you drove straight to the SHIELD headquarters for work, leaving Narfi with Loki, who'd leave your son with auntie Nat for the rest of the morning, because Steve hated it, when Loki missed out the important briefings which concerned his 'development' as a resident of planet earth. Or in other words: Making sure he still behaved, didn't relapse and was a 'hero' and not a threat to humanity. In your eyes, it was ridiculous that he still had to 'prove himself' after all those years... After getting married and starting a family... After everything he had done for the Avengers, America and the whole world. But well... Who were you to speak up and change things? It was how it was.

Seven hours of going through reports and sorting files, you clocked out of work. Yes, it wasn't much you were doing, but it was something. Better than just staying at home. You loved being a mom, but sometimes you needed to see something different - and you were more than happy to rejoin your friends in hopefully near future and slip back inside your Avenger combat suit.

Instead of driving to school to pick up Ella, you drove back home. Loki had already done that; taking his princess out for a daddy-daughter date to the indoor swimming pool.

Arrived at the Avengers compound, you didn't even bother to drop your stuff first; instead heading immediately for Natasha's. Your motherly instincts were literally screaming at you by now to go see your baby son. So, you did.

Your best friend opened the door to her apartment for you with a huge smile and little Narfi on her arms; dressed in his white sweatpants and matching jumper. He looked like a baby smurf - which was probably one of the cutest things you had ever seen and would get certainly never tired of seeing again. "Mama!" Narfi squeaked happily from behind his pacifier as soon as his beautiful ruby eyes registered you; impatiently squirming in his auntie's arms. "Hiii, baby boy!" You smiled brightly and immediately took him into your arms. His adorable giggle urged to your ears; causing you to smooch his little cheek with kisses, and once you had thoroughly greeted your son, you turned your attention to the Black Widow leaning now against the door frame still with that smile on her lips.

"Hey, Nat." You shuffled closer to hug her, what the Russian beauty instantly reciprocated. "Hey, babes." "Thank you for looking after this little guy here," you said; pulling back from the hug and gently bouncing Narfi on your arm. Natasha shook her head. "No need to thank me. I love playing the cool auntie part." "I'll keep that in mind," you winked, causing your fellow Avenger to giggle.

"Alright. We'll be going then. Gotta do some chores... See you around, Nat." "Sure thing, babes."

You looked down at Narfi, who had snuggled against you; head buried in your neck. "Say bye bye to auntie Nat, Narfi." "Bye bye," babbled the little boy in a sweet, quiet voice; clearly on the verge of dozing off. Natasha smiled and waved at Narfi, "Bye bye, маленький смурф." who instantly lifted a small hand to wave back. Smiling and bidding your goodbye to the Black Widow as well, you pressed a kiss against your son's forehead and ran a hand through his black locks.

Back in the apartment, you put the toddler down for a nap on his beloved floor cushion - which he mostly preferred for a nap, instead of his bed. Now that your son was sleeping peacefully across the living room, you had the time to do some chores. On today's programme: folding laundry. So, you spread out on the sofa, switched on the TV - but kept the volume down, of course, and got to work.

From your position, you had the perfect view on Narfi as well; having an eye on him from time time. Unfortunately, that didn't always keep him from escaping your watchful gaze. Just like Ella, was he his father's child... Sneaky and definitely a tiny mischief maker. Not quite as much as his big sister, but nevertheless...

You could swear that you only didn't look at him for five minutes - and suddenly was the floor pillow empty.

Shit.

"Narfi?" You called through the living room; letting your eyes wander and already moved to stand up. He wasn't in this room anymore. You sighed and shook your head with a small smile. "Little rascal..." You mumbled under your breath and crossed the living room; aiming for the hallway.

The good thing was, that Narfi couldn't get far; not having learned how to walk just yet. The emphasis was on the word 'yet'.

You rounded the corner into the hallway, "Narfi?" and found your son standing - hands free - beside the clothes basket, which he had clearly used to pull himself on his feet. At the sound of his mama's voice, the toddler turned his head - which caused him to immediately lose balance and land on his small bum.

Your eyes widened. Was he about to take his first steps and you 'interrupted' him? "Baby, were you about to take your first step?" Narfi was already pulling himself up again; using the clothes basket as a help like before. A sweet huff left his small lips once he made it on his small feet; causing you to stifle a giggle.

"Try again, baby smurf, come on." Narfi turned on slightly wobbly legs towards you; hand gripping the basket for dear life. "Mama!" You smiled and walked quite a few steps closer, before you squatted down and opened your arms. "Yes, c'mere! Come to mama!" You tried to encourage Narfi; a bright smile on your lips.

The smile got even wider, when your son suddenly let go of his support - and took a very wobbly, unsteady step towards you. With you mouth agape, you giggled. "Yes! You did it, baby! C'mon! One more?" Your happiness infected Narfi and he smiled a bright, toothy smile. Giggling, he made another two fast and wobbly steps, before he lost his balance and more or less stumbled into your arms. You reached out and caught him, before he could hit the floor; sweeping him up in a hug.

"Yay!" You cheered and peppered his cerulean, chubby cheeks with kisses. "Mama is sooo proud of you, Narfi." The little boy just cooed and gurgled happily.

An idea crossed your mind.

"Let's surprise daddy and your big sister when they come home, huh? They'll be so happy to see you walk." Your toddler's eyes widened at your suggestion. "Supise dada lala?" Narfi couldn't say Ella yet, so he settled on 'Lala' - it was the cutest thing ever. You giggled; nodding. "Yes, baby smurf. Come on."

The laundry was long forgotten; deciding to play with Narfi instead and helping him practising to walk.

After a very successful daddy-daughter date at the indoor swimming pool, Loki and Ella returned back home in the evening to the Avengers compound. The little girl's hand was neatly tucked into her father's bigger one as they exited the elevator. Ella was definitely tired and worn out - just like it should be after such a day. That was most probably the reason why Loki was carrying not just his duffle bag in his free hand, but also Ella's pink Disney princesses rucksack on his back.

Together, they stepped down the hallway and into your family's apartment. "Darling?" Loki called out; taking off his shoes and helping his tired daughter to get out of her jacket. "Mommy? We're back!"

The pair heard a small voice along some shuffling, before you rounded the corner into the entrance area with Narfi walking in front of you; yet gripping tightly onto your pointer fingers. "Hey, you two," you greeted them happily. "The baby smurf and I have to show you something." Proudly, you let go of your son's small hands - and let him walk a few small, still wobbly step. Before he could topple over, you grabbed him quickly around his middle; holding him steady.

Both, Loki's and Ella's jaws were on the floor; not having anticipated this. Sure, Narfi had tried to walk now for days - probably weeks, but it looked like he needed some more time to learn... Apparently not.

"He is walking now!" A not-so tired anymore Ella squeaked and crawled forwards and clumsily, but lovingly hugged her little brother - who didn't quite understand why everyone was making such a big fuss. He just squeaked along happily.

Loki met your gaze; his beautiful blues shining with a few tears. "Darling, he... Our son is walking..." He whispered; visibly touched, but you heard him anyways. Ella was already helping Narfi back on his little feet; his hands in hers tightly as she helped him walk down the hallway. It gave you the opportunity to step over to your husband. With a smile, you slung your arms around his middle; invading his space. "I know, babe, I know." Loki laughed softly and tried to blink back the tears as he wrapped you up in a hug; strong arms keeping you locked against his tall, defined body.

"We have to watch out now, babe. Soon, he'll start to run," you stated with a giggle, causing Loki to shake his head. "By the Norns, please not. He's already growing up too fast..." You sighed; knew exactly how he felt - and he was right. You rested your head against his chest, giving your husband the opportunity to press a kiss on top of your head. "Mhm... Growing up too fast, just like Ella." You felt the god's chest vibrate with a hum. "Just like Ella..."

маленький смурф - little smurf

Baby Fever Crew: @muddyorbsblr @mochie85 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @jaidenhawke @multifandom-worlds @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @jennyggggrrr @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @huntedmusicgardenn @fictive-sl0th @herdetectivetheorist @hisredheadedgoddess28 @chennqingg @princess-ofthe-pages @km-ffluv @brokenpoetliz @lokiforever @stupidthoughtsinwriting @loz-3 @jaguarthecat @icytrickster17 @eleniblue @yourfriendlyslytherinhc @mypainischronicbutmyassisiconic @kimanne723 @lou12346789 @smolvenger @isaidoop @lokisgoodgirl @cakesandtom (Continuing in the comments)

[smurfs-insideout-au]

Greetings,everyone!!!! After some time of waiting,we are glad to announce the smurfs who volunteered to be the emotions, the most crucial part of this project!!!! They will be the ones steering the emotion wheels in the host smurf, as well as studying how the emotions partake in one's decision!!!

Alternative version

Although this is wonderful, please remember we are humans behind the scenes, we have a life, enjoy making art, taking about Smurfs and whatnot. sometimes it may take awhile or two for reasons. Especially since most of us are all over the place around the world. So our timezones are different haha.

Please press "read more" to see the rules of this account.

—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—

Below are rules you need to remember to follow when interacting with this account.

Nsfw- nsfw is not accountable in this blog, so please don’t ask for any, but we may slip an adult joke here or there. (Who knows)

Requests - I know we may get asked some point. But we’ll make a post when we feel like taking requests.

Fanart- Fanart. Can’t forget the fanart. You’re More than welcome to tag us for fanart. We love them fanarts!!! (I’m looking at you fluffy @fluffypigeonsandowls )

Asks- asks are 100% allowed in this account, as long as it's not off topic, offensive or inappropriate.

—-—-—-—-—-—-—

Shipping rules because some of you can't keep things to yourselves.

1. Most of our cast are ocs,so please be respectful to their creators on whether or not they want their ocs to be shipped together.

2. DO NOT SHIP TWO OCS OR OC X CANON WITHOUT OUR PERMISSIONS. OUR OCS ARE NOT MADE PUBLIC.

3. Only ships that are considered ok/Canon in the AU are allowed.

And please,for the love of god,DONT HARRASS ANY OF THE MODS WHO RUN THIS ACCOUNT!!!!

[estellan0vella]

Love In Print│Bang Chan

Chapter Four: Tequila First, Sage Later SS: 7 (ignore time stamps and dates) Word Count: 1.8 K Content Warnings: sex dreams, discussions of sex dreams in detail, Minho is unhinged and has no shame

Previous Next Masterlist

Ayame sprawls on her plush couch, surrounded by the charmingly ridiculous chaos of her apartment. Smurf figurines litter every available surface. Perched on bookshelves, clustered on the coffee table, and even lined up along the windowsill like a tiny blue army preparing for battle.

One particularly smug Smurf in a chef's hat surveys the room from atop a stack of novels near the TV, his expression seeming to judge her questionable choice in reality dating shows.

Clad in an oversized fluffy sweater that slips off one shoulder and a pair of shorts, Ayame lounges with her legs tucked under her, scrolling mindlessly through her phone, ignoring Minho's spam texts. Her hair is piled into a messy bun that's more chaos than style, a few strands escaping to frame her face. The sound of keys jingling in the hallway pulls her from her aimless scrolling.

The door flies open, and Minho bursts in like he lives at the place, which, considering their years of friendship, he practically does.

"Okay!" he announces dramatically, throwing his arms out as if delivering divine proclamation. "It's an Oppa-and-Ayame day! That tyrant Haechul accidentally gave us both the same day off, so we're drinking wine and shit-talking the Four Devils. Especially Jisung, that squirrely little fucker."

Ayame grins lazily from the couch, not bothering to move. "You two should just fuck already. All that tension? It's gotta be sexual."

Minho freezes mid-stride, a look of exaggerated horror overtaking his face as he heads for her kitchen. "I considered it once," he says, yanking open her cabinet with unnecessary force, "but then I realized, ew. I'd get Miroh slime on my dick. Hard fucking pass."

Ayame snorts, watching as he emerges triumphantly with a bottle of red wine and two hilariously mismatched glasses, one a delicate crystal goblet, the other a mug with a cartoon penguin on it. "Bold of you to assume you'd be the top between you and Jisung."

Minho freezes, the wine bottle in one hand and the penguin mug in the other. His face twists in mock indignation as he glares at her. "Yah! I am a fucking top!"

"Sure you are," Ayame hums, accepting the glass he hands her. She takes a sip, savouring the rich flavour with a soft sigh.

Minho plops down next to her, kicking off his shoes. He watches her for a moment, his usual playful smirk softening. "You okay?"

Ayame twirls the stem of her glass between her fingers, staring into the wine like it might hold the answer to all her problems. "I think I'm going to have to quit."

Minho jerks upright, his glass clinking as he slams it onto the coffee table. "What the actual fuck are you talking about?"

"Haechul's going to pull strings to make sure Chan gets the managing director job," Ayame explains. "And I made that dumbass deal with him. If he gets it, I have to leave."

Minho stares at her, his mouth agape. "You can't fucking leave. Who the fuck would drive Chan insane if you're gone? More importantly, who's going to keep me sane?"

"Minho," Ayame says, smirking softly, "you're already insane."

"Fair." He shakes his head, exhaling sharply. "But I'm serious. If you leave, I'm leaving. No way I'm sticking around without my favourite pain-in-the-ass maknae. Besides, if you're gone, there'd be no HR complaints to keep me entertained. What the fuck would I even do with my time?"

Ayame snorts, taking another sip of wine. "You'd miss me."

"Of course, I'd miss you," Minho says, his voice dropping to something softer. "But seriously, that deal? Fucking stupid. You're a pabo."

She grins, leaning her head against his shoulder. "I love you too, Oppa."

He rests his cheek against the top of her head. "You're still a pabo."

They sit in comfortable silence for a few moments, the sound of the city humming faintly in the background. Then Minho speaks again, his tone laced with mischief. "Have you ever thought about just getting it out of your system with Chan?"

Ayame jerks her head up, her glare sharp enough to cut steel. "I'd rather fucking die than have sex with Bang Chan."

"Yeah, but he's hot," Minho says, grinning like a cat who's cornered a mouse.

"Too hot," Ayame mutters begrudgingly, her nose scrunching as she sips her wine. "Oh, speaking of disasters, you'll never guess what I found in my closet yesterday."

Minho raises an eyebrow, intrigued. "What?"

Ayame sets her glass down and stretches dramatically. "Remember that BDSM novel manuscript from before the merger? The one with the dolphin metaphor?"

Minho's eyes widen, his grin practically splitting his face. "No fucking way. You kept it?!"

"Oh, I kept it," Ayame says, grabbing the bottle of wine and glasses as she stands. "This is bed and wine reading material. Let's go."

They head to her bedroom, fairy lights strung along the headboard casting a soft, warm glow over the space. The Smurfs have infiltrated here too, perched on her bedside table and dresser like a tiny blue cult.

Minho flops onto the bed, spreading out like a content cat as Ayame rummages through her closet, eventually pulling out a thick stack of papers.

She plops onto the bed beside him, flipping to a random page. Clearing her throat, she reads dramatically, "'Her body bent like a bow, her legs both entwined and spread apart as his hands worked magic she didn't know existed.'"

Minho chokes on his wine, doubling over as he coughs. "How the fuck do you do both?"

He attempts to mimic the described position, his limbs sprawled in every direction like a broken action figure. Ayame howls with laughter, clutching the manuscript as tears stream down her face.

"Okay, okay," she gasps, flipping to another page. "'Electric pulses shot through her as his velvet tongue traced-'"

"Velvet tongue?!" Minho interrupts, his voice high with incredulity. "Is he a man or a fucking fabric swatch?"

Ayame collapses onto the bed, laughing so hard her stomach hurts. "This is even worse than I remembered!"

"It's art," Minho declares, striking a ridiculous pose. "High-brow erotica for the mentally unhinged like us."

Ayame's breath hitches as she lies in her bed, her room dimly lit by the soft glow of her bedside lamp. The air feels thick, heavy, as Chan's voice cuts through the silence. "Ayame," he says, his tone low, almost a whisper.

Her heart pounds in her chest. "Chan," she whispers back, her voice trembling.

Before she can say anything else, his lips are on hers, firm and unrelenting. One of his hands grips her thigh, the warmth of his palm searing through her skin as he pulls her leg over his waist. His kisses trail down her neck, soft but insistent, leaving a path of heat as he moves lower, his mouth grazing her sternum.

Ayame's breathing grows shallow, her fingers curling into the sheets. He lifts her leg effortlessly over one of his impossibly broad shoulders, his movements deliberate and assured. The room feels like it's spinning, her senses overwhelmed by the weight of him, the feel of his lips, the strength in his hands-

Nope. Nope. Fuck no.

She slaps a hand over her face, jolting up in the bed. Beside her, Minho stirs under the covers, mumbling something unintelligible before flopping onto his side.

"Minho," Ayame hisses, shaking his shoulder urgently. "Red light. Code fucking red."

Minho grunts, his voice muffled by the pillow. "What? Fire? Bug? Break-in? Mouse? Talk to me, Maknae, I'm barely alive."

Ayame sits up, hugging her knees, her voice trembling as she whispers, "I had a-"

Minho rolls onto his back, squinting at her through the haze of sleep. "A what? A bad dream? A good dream? A fuck-you dream? Spit it out."

Her cheeks burn as she finally blurts, "A sex dream. About Chan."

For a moment, the room goes silent. Then Minho's entire body stiffens, his grogginess vanishing in an instant. "No," he whispers, sitting up like he's just heard the world's worst news. He grabs her by the shoulders, staring at her with wide, horrified eyes. "No."

Ayame groans, burying her face in her hands. "It was so fucking real. His stupid hands, his stupid voice, his stupid fucking broad-ass shoulders. Why the fuck does my subconscious hate me?"

Minho's face twists in exaggerated pain as he pulls her into a tight hug, rocking her gently like a child. "No, no, no. We're cleansing this shit right now. You are not allowed to let Miroh trash like him into your brain space. Not even dreamspace."

She laughs weakly into his shoulder. "It's not like I fucking invited him. I didn't send out an RSVP."

Minho pulls back, his expression deadly serious. "Tequila. Sage. We're getting both. Right fucking now."

Ayame snorts, wiping her face. "You're overreacting. It's not that bad."

"Not that bad? Not that bad?" Minho leaps out of bed, pacing dramatically. "It's the end of the fucking world, Ayame. Next thing I know, you're gonna tell me you dreamt about licking his abs while he growls stupid shit like, 'You're mine, shortcake.'"

Ayame flops back onto the bed. "Stop. You're making it worse."

Minho stops mid-pace, snapping his fingers. "Wait here. I'm getting the tequila." He toddles out of the room, his bare feet pattering against the floor as he makes a beeline for her kitchen.

She sits up, her hands pressed to her cheeks, muttering to herself. "What the fuck is wrong with me?"

Minho returns moments later, a bottle of tequila in one hand and a shot glass in the other. He unscrews the cap dramatically and wafts the bottle under her nose. "Smell that. Salvation."

Ayame leans forward, inhaling the sharp, familiar scent. "Smells like my saving grace."

"Exactly." He pours her a shot, his movements precise. "This will cleanse your soul. Tequila first, sage later."

Ayame downs the shot without hesitation, grimacing as the liquid burns its way down. "How do you even know this works?"

Minho pours himself a shot, his expression unreadable as he takes it like a pro. "Because I've had to do it, Maknae. More times than I care to admit."

She raises an eyebrow. "You? What, you had a sex dream about Chan?"

"Jisung," Minho says matter-of-factly, pouring another shot for himself. "His cute little cheeks, full of my cock. Tequila and sage every fucking time. I call it a sanity reset."

Ayame chokes on her laughter, falling back onto the bed. "I hate you. I hate this. I hate everything."

"You'll thank me later," Minho says, patting her leg as he sits beside her. "These men are like incubi, Maknae. They latch onto you. But tequila? Tequila is your tether to reality."

Ayame groans, throwing her arm over her face. "I can't fucking believe I'm having this conversation."

Minho smirks, nudging her with his knee. "You should've seen my face the first time I dreamt about Jisung. I woke up like, who the fuck am I? But you know what? I've survived, and so will you."

She pulls her arm down, her laughter bubbling up despite the lingering embarrassment. "You're insane."

"And you're welcome," Minho says, holding up the tequila bottle. "Now, another shot. For good measure."

Ayame sits up, taking the shot he pours and downing it like it's medicine. The warmth spreads through her chest, dulling the edges of her anxiety. "Okay. Fine. This helps."

"Of course it does," Minho says, leaning back with a satisfied grin. "Now, for the record, if you ever even think about looking at Chan like that in real life, I'm moving out of the country and dragging you with me."

Ayame laughs, shaking her head. "Deal. No Miroh trolls in my headspace."

"Damn right," Minho says, raising his glass. "To tequila, sage, and exorcising Bang Chan from your subconscious."

"To my stupid fucking brain," Ayame mutters, clinking her glass with his before downing her shot.

The tequila's warmth settles into her, and as the laughter spills out between them, Ayame feels the weight of her nightmare lift, replaced by the comfort of Minho's ridiculous, unwavering loyalty.

Taglist: @fackeraccount @ot8girlfie @nightmarenyxx @reimaybeidk

@ismelllikechlorine247 @drewsandsebastianswife @my-neurodivergent-world @rhonnie23 @hanji-coffee

[red-lights-of-doooooom]

a guide to: what i call the characters from the show "arcane"

(a.k.a. A massive list of all the nicknames I have called each character, either when I was sober or when I was drunk)

Vi: Pink girl, punk fighter chick, cartoon Hailee Steinfeld, Step-on-me, punk girl who could kick my ass, the fighter, the lesbian disaster, The Fister, Girl in Pink, main girl, god-she-is-so-hot-and-i-am-so-gay, Vi

Jinx: Blue hair and pronouns, blue girl, Smurf Hair, Powjinx, Powder, Powder Blue, Crystal Methanie, meth hair, tumblrina, get jinxed, the-hot-but-crazy-one, etc.

Jayce: Genius Zac Efron, Hobo Zac Efron, golden boy, token straight guy, the normal one (I've stopped calling him that last one since s2 happened)

Viktor: Slavic science nerd, the smart guy, Genius Twink, Cosmic Hobo Jesus, End of Evangelion, Darth Vaper, me-in-college, the quiet one, Galaxy Brain

Ekko: Teen genius, Groundhog Day Junior, Time-travel teen, Riley Rewind, guy with a weird tattoo on his face, "the boy saviour"

Caitlyn: British woman, British cop, the clueless lesbian, "cupcake", purple woman, purple hair, the Violent Femme, gun woman

Vander: Big dude, werewolf dad, DILF, best dad, sad man

Mel: Politics Woman, pretty lady, space opera, Captain Marvel, Sailor Moon, Sailor Sun.

Ambessa: Warmonger Mom, Warmomger, War Mom, Hardened Battle Grandma

Sevika: Auntie, Drug Dealer Aunt (earlier on), Jinx's unofficial mom

Heimerdinger: Token Furry Mascot, fuzzy old guy, fluffy hobbit, the guy who's super old and knows things, mini Dumbledore

[tanunigans]

Fluffy isn't too sure about this other little blue one....

But she smells nice.

@your-local-uwu-artist couldn't resist doodling-

[eds6ngel]

second idea: would just love something with a convo about alena calling reader her step-mom or mom, instead of ms. or maybe something with alena calling reader mom for the first time! just cute and fluffy💖

of course honey!! this one is short and sweet, but touching nonetheless ♡

warnings: dad!steve. mom!reader. fem!reader. 90s!au. swearing. food mentions. fluff. comfort. slight mentions of alena's trauma due to motherly neglect. lots of happy tears from alena and reader. this is just extremely cute and endearing really!! [1.3k].

full 'when i kissed the teacher' masterlist.

With Steve having to take on a weekend shift at Target, you tackled the weekly Sunday grocery store trip with Alena. Before leaving that morning, Steve gave you an overflowing list of groceries, more than he definitely needed.

“Why does your dad put so much on the list, baby? Like, watermelon. When has your dad ever eaten watermelon?” You were holding onto Alena’s small, soft hand, guiding her with you as you pushed the shopping cart with your left, slowly filling it up with each aisle you pass.

“I like watermelon!” she beams with a smile, you laughing as you reply, “But, not a whole watermelon! If you ate an entire watermelon, your belly would be this big.” You demonstrated by holding your hand out far away from her stomach, her gasping and going, “I would not be that big!”

Tsking with a squint of your eyes, you reply, “Oh, but I think you would, sweetpea! You would have a massive watermelon belly! Big ‘ol belly.”

The conversation with the eight-year-old slowly drifted away as you arrived at the cake aisle. She lets go of your hand, running over and jumping up and down, pointing up and shouting, “Look! A Smurfs cake! A Smurfs cake!”

You look down at her and raise your eyebrows, smirking, “So, instead of a watermelon belly, you want a cake belly?”

“Cake belly sounds better! Can I have the Smurfs cake mubba?”

You delicately lift the box, Papa Smurf stood proudly next to his daughter Smurfette, two huts perched in the background, other Smurfs going about their daily activities presented in different-coloured icings. Turning the box over, it read: ‘A jam and cream sponge, completed with edible icing for decoration.’

“I think…” you stroke your chin, “If we buy this cake, you have to be a good girl to your dad for the rest of the week, okay?”

“And to you! I’ll be a good girl for you too!”

You chuckle, ruffling her hair, “And for me, obviously,” playfully rolling your eyes and placing the cake into the cart, “Smurfs cake it is!”

“Yes!” Alena cheeses, gripping her fist tight and pulling them towards her chest in celebration.

The two of you continue walking down the aisles, having to make a pit-stop for longer than expected at the bread section. Steve had written down ‘loaf of bread’ on the list, but the endless piles of different brands, sizes and types left you in slight confusion. You had recognised that the Harringtons liked their white bread, an easy ignorance to the brown loaves. However, the size of the loaf was something you were unsure on. Since there were only two of them, perhaps three if you stayed overnight and needed a slice of toast for breakfast, you agreed with yourself on the smaller loaf. It was no worry if he indeed did usually buy the bigger loaf, you could always make a stop on your way home from work and pass it over to them.

“All right, Pepperidge Farm’s Hearty White Bread is what we’re going for! Does that sound all right with you Ale—” But, as you look down, the little girl is nowhere to be found. You peer down the aisle, a flowery, yellow dress and brunette pigtails out of sight. Your internal panic begins to rise, deciding to quick power back to the aisle you just visited, wondering if she waltzed back to the chocolate section.

But, you don’t see her. “Shit,” you mumble to yourself, deciding your next safest bet was two aisles down, the one after the bread aisle. “Steve’s gonna fucking kill me,” you curse lowly, scared to death that you had lost his daughter. However, before you can make a turn to the right, the end of your cart collides directly into an older woman, her wearing a simple, long black dress, glasses neatly sat on the bridge of her nose.

“I am so sorry—” you begin to profusely apologise, however, the sight of Alena held tightly on her hip makes you let out a lengthy sigh. Thank God she was safe.

But, the word that comes out of her mouth shocks you to your core. “Mommy!”

Mommy. She called you mommy.

“Don’t apologise my dear, it’s okay!” the old woman calms your presence, “I’m assuming this one is yours. Poor baby was scared to death. Said she went around the corner and when she came back, you were gone.”

It’s then that you notice the tears rolling down her face, lips quivering and her holding her arms out, as if she wanted you to grab her. And that was the moment you knew: you were her mom.

The old woman lifts Alena up, you gripping her to your side as you cradle her head, her tears falling onto your bare shoulder. “It’s okay. Mommy’s got you. Mommy’s got you, baby.”

As you look up, the woman is smiling at the pair of you as she says, “Don’t beat yourself up over it. It was a simple mistake, you seem like a wonderful mother.”

You nod, mouthing a small “Thank you” as she bids farewell, attending back to her own grocery shopping around the corner. You cup the back of Alena’s head, stroking her hair as she stares at you with her beautiful, hazel orbs, just like her dad’s. God, they looked so much alike.

“Mommy,” she whispers out, almost as if she said nothing. You smile, letting a few tears fall yourself as you murmur back at the same volume, “Yeah, I’m your mommy, baby.”

And that’s when the waterworks burst for her. Even though she has no recollection or memories of her biological mom, you could tell it still had some heartbreaking effect on her subconsciously. It was a trauma she had no idea existed. You were the first ever figure in her life that resembled a mother, that cared for her like a mother, that supported her like a mother. So, that’s what you were. No, step-mom, no adoptive mom, just mom.

And even though she was eight years old, you cradled her in your arms as if you were caring for a newborn whose emotions were simply too big for their small body. You press a tender kiss to the side of her head, wiping the tears away from her face, making sure the salty liquid doesn’t fall into her mouth, infecting her taste buds.

She whimpers out, “I-I love you, mommy.”

You didn’t realise until that moment what an emotional impact those four words would hold on you. You’ve always wanted to be a mom, ever since you were a little girl. You think that maternal instinct you seemed to have inherited lead you to wanting to become a teacher in the first place. Something about raising kids to become healthy, human adults made you feel warm inside. But, no teaching position could ever come close to feeling the real thing.

“I love you too, baby girl,” you smile back, the pair of you wetly giggling, Alena using her small thumbs to wipe the tears that escaped from your eyes, collecting in a tiny puddle in the middle of your cheeks. “Want to stay on my hip?”

She nods in reply, “Yes, mommy.” God, you were gonna have to get used to that.

“Okay,” you quietly reply, the two of you continuing down the halls of the grocery store, filling the cart with the remaining items that Steve wished you collected for him.

But, what really was the absolute, top-notch tear-jerker was later that night when Steve returned home from his shift, Alena shouted to you from the living room, “Mommy! Daddy’s home!”

And to see the look on Steve’s face, the one that was of pure shock, made the tears fall all over again. You weren’t just looking after Steve’s daughter anymore, you were her mom, and that was the greatest gift you could’ve ever been given.

i hope you enjoyed!! feel free to keep sending in asks for this series!! also, any general cute comments from my pretty af followers and readers is appreciated too!! ♡

taglist: @livsters @bakugouswh0r3 @nix-rose @ihatepeanutss @cats00089 @suitelif3 @clincallyonline17 @crowssixof @starkeylover @eris-rose-86 @frostandflamesfanfic

[gypsophiliaz]

“ douceur „

quanxi x fem florist | barista reader.

multiple part series. first part thats just pretty fluffy and romancey!! first time writing and actually publishing it so ermm leave tips ig idk. ik the pacing is weird but its bc i like to write in detail.

feminine reader x quanxi, includes romance. >:3 smut in later chapters or wtv.

disclaimer ; I've never written like romance before so forgive me lol. I write with extreme detail too so it probably gonna be the SLOWEST burn ever. also she smokes weed cuz ion fuck wit that cig shit lmfao

CHAPTER I

being a florist in tokyo isn't anything you thought you'd be finding yourself doing. though, being drawn to the sweet and naturey smell of flowers wouldn't suprise anyone who had known you before. head over heels constantly in love with all kinds of plants and flowers, from spider lilies to hydrangea, peony and flower arrangements in themselves.

. . .

you'd adjust your grip on the box cutter in your dominant hand, the vivid pink color of it mixing with the warm lighting above you, the blade swiftly and sharply cutting through the protruding thorns of the white roses, the remaining water inside would drip slightly onto the paper below the bouqet would find itself sitting inside of momentarily. a smell similar of freshly cut grass would fill your senses, and the cozy and comforting feel of the floristry – cafe place that you had recently assigned yourself to.

the smell of coffee, tea, and the baby's breath that sat to the right of you would fill the air, a rainy day with cars ever–so making light noises as their wheels splash and sputter inside of the puddles left by the rain. the annoying ding of the door would fill your ears once more, and like clock–work the all too familiar words would spill out of your mouth.

“ Welcome to Yrlissa's Flowery, How may I be of assistance? ”

as your eyes lazily drifted off the commissed bouqet that laid on the counter infront of you, your eyes would laid upon a tall lady, with a muscular yet slim figure. wispy bangs and a lacey eyepatch concealing her right eye. the rest of her thin hair contained by a black hairtie— who the hell visits a flower shop in a full black suit? Is she going to a fucking funeral ?

NOT professional thoughts. get it together!!!

the lady would approach the counter, with an almost monochromatic expression. not one emotion would appear on her face, and no body language out of the ordinary. her movements would seem almost perfected calculated, almost uncanny even, but as she grew closer the smell of the the roses and baby's breath would be replaced with the smell of marijuana.

the footsteps would come to a halt uncomfortably close to you, or maybe it would seem that way since shes near the height of a basketball player and you couldn't be any closer to a smurf, and also leaning over flowers with posture far from the best in the world– a few seconds of silence commence, the ladies eyes piercing above to read the sign. her lips parting to finally speak.

“A small espresso will do, please.”

“ would you like sugar or cream? ”

“ Surprise me. ”

the click of the box cutters blade retracting back into itself, and the clack of its placement onto the counter would follow her sentence. with your feet tapping to the cups behind you, and your body language obviously showing your nervousness, you'd swiftly grab it and draw back over to the counter near the woman.

tipping over the jug of geyser water just measuring to the line that marks a half liter. the sound of the water filling up would once again save you from extremely embarrassment from the pure awkwardness of the situation at hand.

. . . .

you'd stretch your hand over and weigh out 20 grams of coffee beans, pouring them into a small tin and placing them on the miniature scale. the lady bringing a stop to the awkward silence that filled the air.

“ I take it it's relaxing to work here hm? ”

“ It's nice on it's slow days, but then there's times like valentines day, and wedding season ykno? ”

“I'd imagine.”

as a few weeks passed, the lady swiftly became a regular. almost always coming in during your shift or being there before you clock in. a name you wrote on the coffee cup almost every shift, the type of name that rolls off your tongue sweet and slick, — quanxi. another day had arrived, opening the door to yrlissa's the bell would chime as you walked in, swiftly pittering to clock in, not missing quanxi sitting in the corner of the shop, as always.

she would stay for a few hours and make nice company on slow days, an often occurrence it would be to sit and speak with her while filling out the commissions for bouqets, and other kinds of assortments. it didn't take long to realize quanxi liked more to listen than to speak.

today was october 5th. the chill in the air sweeping into the store moments after the bell on the door would ring. it didn't take long for you to learn to brace yourself against the cold on the cue of the chime. completing the same ol' sequence you'd do everyday, steaming the milk and poking holes in the puck of espresso, yet this time for yourself to warm up on the cold day.

the thick fog outside would make seeing the people and events happening outside near impossible. pouring the milk, then espresso, a drizzle of caramel and whipped cream onntop, the perfect go—to drink. the cup would warm your hands, soothing you and bringing you into relaxation with the first sip, a small breath leaving your parted lips—

the all too familiar chime would fill your ears.

bruh.

quickly stepping behind the counter to at least shield your lower half. or.. 90% of ur body bc ur a fucking smurf. srry im writing this in my perspective im fucking 5'0. the chill would still expectedly hit your face and torso, sending a small shiver up your spine. gripping the cup of coffee just a bit tighter to warm your hands once again. fluttering your lashes and squinting to keep the ice cold air out of your eyes, you'd realize who'd walked in.

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you cold.” Quanxi would say, looking back and closing the door softly behind her as not to brush more cold air inside. this time she was wearing a brown turtle-neck under her coat and long black pants. she'd take a deep breath in and pull her other hand out of her pocket.

“you're fine don't worry. at least it's not another total stranger walking in, I think I'd rot inside having to make any more small talk today.” you'd set down your coffee to start her order, placing it beside the cash register and lean on the counter with the corner digging into your palms.

“Usual?”

“Mm.”

Quanxi would approach the table near the entrance of the work space, leaving about 3-5 feet in between the two of you as you started her order. It took her a few days in the beginning but she got what she wanted down pack. a shot of espresso, mixed softly into chocolate syrup followed by warm steamed milk and whipped cream. In other words, a Caffé Mocha. with some extra chocolate.

. . . should probably start that order

you'd started serving quanxi in the pretty white mugs boss lady told you not to use, simply to reduce dishes. but you didn't mind washing one or two for quanxi. You'd hear the clink of her keys being placed onto the table before she'd speak.

“How's work been treating you lately? ” Quanxi would say to you, looking at you completely still with a hand propped up under her chin, but still as nonchalant as usual. It was hard to believe she was genuinely interested sometimes.

pouring the chocolate into the bottom of the cup focusedly, to make it look as pretty and perfect as can be, you'd take a second before answering. “Horrible, Actually. This guy yesterday, came in and got mad at me because I forgot to put caramel on top of his frappe. He ended up throwing it on the floor, and of course I had to clean it. ”

Quanxi's eyes would follow the way you carefully made the coffee. The way you'd twirl the cup to make sure it was evenly distributed, and the way you'd add extra for her, even though she didn't ask for it. Nor did she really like how sweet it made the drink, but to her it was an act of kindness.

"Mm."

“Oh! and thennnn I had a lady come in here with her boyfriend and I guess I was a bit too friendly with her and she pulled me to the side and basically threatened me. I'm not one for wanting a guy in general. That was actually around a week ago and she came back a few days ago an—”

the glass pot to steam the milk in would fall to the ground instantly shattering. nothing but the thought of your boss chewing you out rushes into your mind. not only is it expensive to replace, it was definitely coming out of your paycheck. Quanxi wasted no time raising out of her chair and assisting you with cleanup even before you, yourself could process what had happened.

“thank you. god my boss is gonna make me pay for this. . . " you'd say squatting down and beginning to pick up the big chunks of glass first and placing them in your palm. “I'll get it, you might get cut. ” Quanxi would take the glass from out of your hand and continue to pick up where you left off.

"are you sure? I can just get a broom or something." you'd turn away for a second to grab the broom from the back, yet once you come back you find the glass all gone, not a single piece remaining on the floor and a note on the counter, sitting placed under two 10,000 yen notes. (around 140$)

the shock would spread across your face almost in an instant. what the absolute hell? picking up the notes, you'd take the time to read the note she'd left behind.

“𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓬𝓸𝓯𝓯𝓮𝓮 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓹𝓲𝓽𝓬𝓱𝓮𝓻. 𝓾𝓷𝓼𝓾𝓻𝓮 𝓱𝓸𝔀 𝓶𝓾𝓬𝓱 𝓲𝓽 𝔀𝓸𝓾𝓵𝓭 𝓫𝓮, 𝓪𝓹𝓹𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓮𝓭 𝓺𝓾𝓲𝓽𝓮 𝓮𝔁𝓹𝓮𝓷𝓼𝓲𝓿𝓮.

𝓠𝓾𝓪𝓷𝔁𝓲 347-1782.”

✧─── ･ ｡ﾟ✧: * 🎀 .* :✧. ───✧

tired of there not being fuckin quanxi fics and smut bro. ik u stans r alive ACT LIKE IT!!!! 😡 k hope u enjoyed tho owo also im seriously fucking hoping this isn't ugly on pc bro.. idk but if ur reading fluff n shit on a pc u got balls cuz id cry if i got caught

[butterfrogmantis]

I asked discord to vote on drawing something fluffy or fucked up and 2 people chose fucked up so here we are

Grave-robbing and frankensmurf shenanigans//

Ironically this was originally gonna be a bit of a cute TNBC thing w/ Jack and Sally parody except whilst I was looking for refs I found the Sally's origins video (great vid, defo watch) and my brain went 'OH! I can make my original idea worse now' /lh Oh and then I rewatched 'Igor' and if you've seen that movie then yes.

I acknowledge the grim inevitability that Archie, as with all Smurfs, is only mortal after all. The bittersweet irony of becoming the dead friend to the living skeleton. But I simply refuse to address it. Apart from this, that is. I try not to think so hard into the future. So perhaps this is an AU. Or not 😈

*As the Smurfs had gotten older, they'd inevitably begun to succumb to old age or unfortunate circumstances. Archaeologist wasn't an exception. Skelly had begged Death for it not to be so. Pleaded, even. But alas the kindly diety had reminded him that they are the ultimate equal, and cannot postpone their own inevitability. Buckle up Skelly, welcome to the endless cycle of immortality = infinite loss. Death is sorry but they can't make exceptions outside of necromancers meddling with their powers.

Years went on, turning to centuries, then some. Skelly indeed lived through the aforementioned cycle of loss over and over, it was becoming too much. At least in his cave where he'd spent a few thousand years, just him and his thoughts he hadn't LOST anything. Even following the descendants of Palaeontologist was becoming disheartening the more the generations separated from the original brothers that had been his friends. And Skelly, in spite of all the new friends he'd made and lost over the years, couldn't shake the memories of the time he'd been truly happiest, and he felt bitter towards the world for it, and eventually it boiled into an idea.

Skelly's no idiot. He knew that meddling with true necromancy would solve nothing - his own creator had vanished from existance just to create him and that would defeat the purpose of his goal. So that's not what he set out to do. You see as time had gone on, so had technology. Skelly didn't NEED to perfectly necromance in order to achieve his goal, he had some … interesting information about theoretical modern science up his sleeves. What he needed wasn't another suicidal necromancer, but rather a shovel, a bunch of 'borrowed' parts to sustain a body and lots and lots of electricity. So goes the theory.

Finding Archie wasn't the hard part - Skelly himself had kept that grave maintained for years after the others had crumbled and withered. Digging it up felt wrong but. It would be worth it. How ironic it was to dig up the bones of a man who'd dedicated his life to the study of them - but that wouldn't sustain without necromancy - only powerful sorcery could reanimate bones themselves. He does need to try and get Archie's mind back without his brain though, so a little magic-science combo MAY require a little magic on the bones themselves.

So in order to get back Archie's er, functionality he just had to er, borrow some stuff from the more recently departed (so Archie may very well be made out of the skin of some of the original smurfs descendants but don't worry he's not wearing the skin of any canon characters ohohoho isn't this fun I'm so normal /lh)

And with his preparations complete, adjustments made and a big storm, Skelly successfully elevated himself into the realms of Victor Frankenstein.

Death won't be happy about this, but right now Skelly doesn't care. Archie's … well. Not exactly sure if he's RIGHT but he's here; welcome to eternity.

Hey remember when I first started drawing them and was like 'the dyanmic is a friendly rivalry where Skelly is annoyed about being carbon dated hoho and now it's 'he's grave robbing and committing Death defying science just bcuz'

[bluebluebluewoods]

Bizarre wings au -

text copied from da Smurfs discord

each smurf has a pair of small, fluffy little wings when theyre born - these wings manifest with their magical essence, forming the very shape of their being in abstract and ethereal floating aspects

brainy's are blood and ink, dripping and floating from pale wings, staining them like so many unwritten letters on parchment. clumsy has wings of glittering gems and shattered porcelain, glittering and destructive but lovely for it

handy has wings of cogs and sheet metal, a gentle ticking constant whenever he brings them out

the echoing drip of water from limestone stalactites clings to miners back