#its an adorable animation

[scoots-canoe]

Blessed yamchas from this dragon ball traffic safety vid 😭

[beaulesbian]

more one piece (mostly zolu) + text posts [2/?]

[unproduciblesmackdown]

Lackadaisy Enrichment

[sweetchildcloud]

||MINI ME|| written by me ☆~♡~◇

Plot: Gojo being an affectionate father as he meets his baby for the first time.

Tags-Breast feeding mention,lots of cuddles,fluff,fatherly love,heartwarming,cute overload.

@muzansslxt @candy69gurl @kiwicopia

“You’re cuter” Gojo teases, but he is pleased. He likes watching you nurse Hotaru. It’s a special moment, for the both of you and your child. “He’s adorable” Satoru continues, his voice dripping with affection “but his mother… hm, far more gorgeous" Satoru laughs softly and pulls the baby in for a tight squeeze. Then, he lifts his head and stares at him once more, holding him at arm's length. The baby’s eyes are wide and bright, like stars in the sky "You have my eyes, little one. You have my eyes...and that adorable chuckle" He adds, before grinning to himself. It feels good looking at his baby. Good and strange. The whole situation was a bit surreal, in a good way, but... "I think I'm starting to understand what being a dad means"

Hatoru yawned as he wobbled scooting near his father chest and laying his head on his shoulder.

Satoru grins as he feels the weight of his son’s head resting on his shoulder. He gently caress Hotaru’s head as the baby falls asleep, and Satoru’s hand comes down to rub soft circles on his son’s back.

Hatoru yawned and he whimpered softly as he couldn't sleep continuously sifting in his dad embrace.

Satoru looks down at his son, noticing the baby’s tired, watery eyes. Immediately, he feels guilt again, realizing that his son is still adjusting to his new surroundings and hasn’t gotten used to falling asleep by himself yet. With a gentle sigh, he pulls Hotaru close to himself again, his grip tightening around the baby as a way to offer more comfort. “Shh” Satoru whispers quietly as he rocks his son “It’s okay… I’m here. I’m here….”

But that didn't help much as Hotaru whimper continued, his tiny fists clutching to his chest as he whimpers, more maybe he needed his pacifier.

Satoru’s heart twists when he hears the cries continue. He couldn’t stand seeing his son like this, with his tiny fists clutching his cheeks and his big, blue eyes so watery. Without a second thought, he pulls out a pacifier from his pocket and pops it into Hotaru’s mouth. The baby chews on the pacifier with an adorable expression, sucking on it as he does. “Better?” Satoru smiles, letting out a breath of relief.

Satoru stares at his son for a long moment, his breath caught in his throat over how *tiny* the baby is. His tiny fists on Satoru’s chest, his chubby cheeks as they wobble with his yawns, a small smear of drool as he sucks on the pacifier—everything about the little one makes Satoru’s heart swell. The baby looks incredibly adorable right now, and Satoru can’t help but feel a little happy to see the little one so calm.

"Boop" Gojo said soflty as he booped softly Hatoru little bitty nose with the tip of his finger and the baby made a cooing noise curling up his nose.

You sighed looking at the two of them and how cute they were before you let a yawn of your own "Let's go to bed sweetie" you said tiredly at Gojo.

“In a few minutes” Satoru pouted whispering, his gaze still on his son. “Just…” The baby’s sleepy eyes are adorable, and he can’t help but feel affectionate seeing them in this state. “Just let me cherish this moment, please?”

"Oh my god you're so adorable, you're not having a baby fever now are you?" You asked smirking looking at him.

“Maybe a little...” Satoru smiles, not denying it. The entire situation with them becoming parents was a bit overwhelming, but... it was so worth it. He loves it here, with his son in his arms, smiling at him just as he is. “You’re not jealous are you? And “If you mean ‘is seeing my baby like this making me feel all kinds of feels’? Yes” he answers, feeling a bit sheepish “And if it’s not baby fever, then… I don’t even know what to call it. Just watching him sleep makes me smile for some reason”

He paused before adding

“Is that weird?” He asks, still admiring Hotaru’s sleeping form. “I just feel…” A strange feeling of warmth erupted throughout his body. Love, maybe? “I feel content”

"No,not at all,it just means that you love your son and I feel the same" you said caressing softly the baby cheek as he sleeps

The warm sensation spreads through Gojo’s chest as he stares down at his son. Hatoru is so small and innocent that he makes Gojo want to cover him in kisses and hugs. He never imagined being a father would make him feel like this. Love and affection, sure, but this… this is a whole new world of emotions that he’s never experienced before. “It’s a nice feeling” he murmurs. “A very nice feeling”

“We should get to bed now, right?” He asks, still watching his son’s sleeping face, then looking over to you. He doesn’t want to miss this moment, but he also doesn’t want you to exhaust yourself.

"You can bring the baby in our bed so that we can sleep together"

Satoru looks down at Hotaru at your suggestion and his heart flutters. Yes. He wants that. He wants that very, *very* much. The two of you could sleep in bed with the baby together. Hold him close as he sleeps. It would be the most content moment of his life. Satoru swallows, trying to keep himself from smiling like an idiot. “That’s a great idea”

Satoru nods and gets up, taking his son in his arms once more. The baby is *so* light. So delicate. So cute. He chuckles as he follows you up the stairs, and walks into the bedroom. Your bed is large enough for a king, and it doesn’t take you long to climb into bed and pull Hotaru with each of you at either side. “We’re a family” Satoru whispers, his voice nearly breaking. “We’re a family now”

"Are you crying?" You asked giggling softly at your husband antics.

Satoru gives you a sheepish smile. It’s true, he has tears in his eyes. Not tears of sadness, but tears of pure joy. “Am I crying?” he chuckles softly, wiping his eyes. “Maybe just a little. This—” he gestures to their family in bed “—it’s just so beautiful… so precious…” “We created this…” He continues. “Me and you, together, we created this perfect thing” Satoru smiles again, his voice cracking with emotion as he stares down at his son. “There’s nothing better in the world than this”

“You’re a sentimental idiot” you giggled and rolled your eyes amusedly, but you didn't object when Satoru sweeps you up in a warm embrace and pulls you close to hug you. You’re a family now. Hotaru is yours, and together, you are more than you’ve ever been.

Bonus:

Satoru laughs softly, pressing his face against you “I’m a sentimental idiot” He agrees, smiling against your cheek. “But my God, I don’t think there’s anything in the world that can make me so happy right now. You and our baby…” He trails off as he continues to embrace you contented and completely at ease as you both slowly drift off to sleep.

♤♡◇♧☆♤♡◇♧☆♤♡◇♧☆♤♡◇♧☆♤

Me thinking about this:

☆Happy,happy,happy~☆

[thesmokinpossum]

Excuse me miss girl???

[critter-catcher]

Found this little cottontail rabbit and it proceeded to do the cutest thing I've ever seen.

[purrpowerco]

Have you seen anything this precious? 😻😻

[plant-cell-park]

this was that whole episode. to me

(original image under the cut)

yes i did in fact painstakingly edit tom and jerry out

[sourtomatola]

THIS POST by @hazard-c-horror gave me The Brain Rot

[hydrangeyes]

*desperately wanting more anime/manga based around food. Like ACTUALLY about food - if there's a plot, I'll love it. But really, it's a bonus in comparison*

[back-in-2037]

[illmoraineakoi]

AU where Victim discovers his Creator’s location long before AvA season 3/without Chosen getting captured, and Victim has his corporation make a machine to try to bring his Creator to the facility.

But something goes wrong; the machine is untested, it has defaults because it was rushed (due to Victim getting impatient), and it malfunctions, badly. Instead of bringing the Creator to him, it sucks Victim in and sends him hurtling to the Creator’s location.

Or, Victim thinks it would have, if the machine didn’t keep malfunctioning. The receiving end of the connection keeps snapping between different places: websites, other IP addresses, different random devices and online accounts.

So when Victim is spat out onto a desktop, he doesn’t think he’s arrived at the right place. He has no way to double-check where he is, or determine he’s in the right place.

Because Victim never really saw his Creator through the screen, all those years ago. Looking through the screen to the world of the Creators had been difficult back then, because something something old 2006 monitors sucked. His view of the outside world through the screen had been blurry/foggy, so he never saw his Creator’s visage clearly enough to memorize identifiable features. He had just been a vague looming shadow of shifting form and color.

Nor does he even know his Creator’s name. Victim never got to see a chat window or login usernames or even the computer user account name, because he never made it out of Flash. And his Creator never spoke, only snickered and laughed.

So when he suddenly finds himself on a desktop, very much not according to any of his plans and something he’s completely unprepared for, faced with five other younger sticks, a cursor, and a shockingly clear view of the being who controlled that computer…

Victim doesn’t recognize Alan.

And Alan doesn’t recognize him.

Needless to say, being on a computer again is a not a very pleasant feeling for Victim, and his first reaction, his first instinct, is to try to flee. To get off the computer, to return to the Outernet, to the safety of his facility. Being on a computer wasn’t safe, the Creator controlling the cursor could delete him at any moment, end his process, erase him, or even enslave him. He was powerless here, not in control, his cunning and resourcefulness would only aid him for so long, only delay his potential death. He had no hope of overpowering the cursor, not here. He needed to leave.

But there is no way for him to leave, because the malfunctioning machine was a one way trip and he doesn’t actually know how to get off the computer. He doesn’t know about the Wi-Fi escape route, and even if he did, he doesn’t have powers to make a portal.

So Victim is stuck on the desktop, fairly certain he’s in the wrong place, with no idea how to get back to the Outernet. Under the constant attention of the looming Creator on the other side of the screen, who can keep pace with his movements and escape attempts with frightening ease. To say nothing of the other five who manage to efficiently outmaneuver him and nearly bring him to the ground several times, clearly assisting the cursor and its operator in trying to capture him.

Victim doesn’t have time to dwell on that. He can only run and run and run and try to find a place to hide, if only the other five weren’t so fast, if only he could escape the cursor’s focus for just a moment—

He’s cornered. The other five backed him into a corner and surrounded him. He has nothing to fight with, he’s overpowered and outnumbered. He curls up, and braces for deletion.

But things don’t go as Victim expects/fears they will…

Because he isn’t attacked. He’s not captured. He’s not deleted or ended or erased.

He’s only confronted, approached, like a frightened wounded animal by one of the other sticks, their movements slow and careful and deliberate. Assuring him that he was okay, they weren’t going to hurt him, he was safe. They ask him if he’s alright. They try to calm him down.

They ask him for his name, innocently giving him their own.

He doesn’t give them his name. He gives them the name Charcoal. They can call him Charcoal. They accept this, without question.

Their naivety is a shock to Victim. He’s dumbfounded by it.

He is a stranger who just appeared on this desktop, and they’re treating him like a friend. With so much genuine and childlike kindness that Victim doesn’t know how to process it. They trust him, almost instantaneously; for no reason. He doesn’t understand. He doesn’t comprehend.

How could anyone be so trusting so quickly? Did they not know the danger of it? Did they not know how awful and unfair the world was? Did they not know how easily they could be taken advantage of, manipulated, ensnared in a web of control they had no way of escaping from? Did they not know they had to protect themselves, guard every bit of themselves, else the rest of the world would use their weaknesses against them?

How did they not see him as a threat?

Or did they not fear him because he didn’t have any powers, so they thought he was weak?

The cursor was worse. It doesn’t attack him. It doesn’t hit him. It speaks to him too. Asking him questions, like where he came from and how he got there, and offering answers and information in return to Victim’s own demands. Victim had not even realized it was possible to communicate with a Creator. Yelling and screaming had done nothing with his own.

It did not seem malicious…

He doesn’t know what to think about that.

He didn’t know what to think about the entire situation he’s found himself in. He is entirely out of his depth.

Here he was, stuck indefinitely with a seemingly benevolent Creator and five rainbow stick kids who are way too happy and upbeat for sticks who live on a computer. Five sticks who eventually start to insist on including him in their activities and adventures; teaching him how to play their games and sharing their hobbies with him. Who carve out a space on the desktop for him, adding a room onto their strange house for him.

It’s bizarre.

The Creator, too, treats him well. Lets him stay and explore the computer as much as he wants until a way to leave was discovered, so long as care was taken to prevent damage to files and data. But it also interacts with Victim, too. Includes him in the little games it plays with the others. Invites him to join it and Orange during their drawing sessions. It – he – was undeniably friendly towards him.

Victim, who had long become bitter and hateful towards the Creators ‘humans’ not just because of his own torment but also because of the horrible mistreatment he’d witnessed the aftermath of upon the refugees arriving to the city, is now faced with the uncomfortable dilemma that not all Creators ‘humans’ are vile evil beings, which challenges a fundamental part of his world view. He is forced to realize that this Creator human, this animator, Alan, was genuinely kind and loving towards the other sticks, and to Victim himself as well. That the color gang genuinely loved Alan, and were well taken care of. Victim never once sees Alan hurt them.

It’s something that Victim had never even conceived of being possible, before. Creators, human, hurt sticks. That's just how it was. Except now it wasn't...

And it’s this that finally confirms to Victim that he was definitely on the wrong computer.

Alan was not his Creator. He couldn’t be; the dissonance was too large.

And as the weeks turn into months of him still not able to figure out how to get back to the Outernet, Victim, too, begins to slowly start trusting and liking Alan. Opening up more, relaxing more. Learning things about himself that his tireless quest for power and then vengeance hadn’t allowed him the time nor opportunity to discover. Becoming genuinely fond of the Color Gang, sharp irritation and antisocialness mellowing into a soft, if exasperated, attachment. Especially Orange, who he feels the most kinship with due to a copious amount of shared interests.

(It was hard not to get attached, the kid’s cheerfulness was borderline infectious.)

Victim had never had real friends before. The closest he ever had were the copies of himself, and they were never really separate identities from him, despite the Box’s best attempts.

He started to feel like he belonged, here. Like Alan and the gang had become a sort of family he never had before. It was enjoyable. It’s nice.

…Right up until Victim finds AvA1 on Alan’s YouTube channel.

[ciphmoomew]

cross and horror !!!

they care so much for each other—i know cause they told me

BIGGEST HC IS THAT SKELETONS CAN PURR BTW !!! ITS SO FUXKING CUTE AND MAKES ME HAPPY GAHGH

[stealingpotatoes]

Snurtles.

Snail turtles. Snurtles.

omg ur mind

[rowanfalls]

oh my god. Chillchuck started the Halffoot union because adventurers were using them as bait for monsters in the dungeon. No wonder he's so opposed to Marcille's method of mandrake harvesting where you sacrifice a dog.

[mbohjeezart]

Finished a little something :P