#i want to hug all of them again

[slavhew]

look at this idiot not aware that his body is warm and his touch comforting everyone point and laugh

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Laios's three Boy Best Friends. And yes, they hate him.

[turtledotjpeg]

i want one too

[owlsie-hoot]

Homecoming / 05.03

[turtleblogatlast]

I think about Leo’s “I’m your least favorite” comment to Splinter in “Down with the Sickness” a lot. It’s likely just a throwaway comment, a way to get Splinter to leave him alone before Leo gets sick too, but I can’t help but wonder if Leo believes it on some level.

Obviously it’s not true, Splinter loves him as much as he loves the others, but…it wouldn’t be shocking if Leo believed otherwise. After all, just in “Many Unhappy Returns” alone, Splinter has, with no hesitation, said comments like “my other sons would have taken this seriously” and “I knew I should’ve brought purple”, said “no” to Leo’s “I love you”, and pretty blatantly didn’t extend any trust in Leo’s plan even after Leo was fairly effortlessly defeating their opponents.

It was only after, when they’d already won, that Splinter finally gives him a “it was all you my son!” And…that’s basically it. Raph is the one who announces his trust in Leo. Not their father, even though Splinter is the one to witness Leo lowering his walls for once (which Splinter doesn’t react well too, because Leo only lowers his walls in the most hectic of times, and because he lowers them only then, either no one is around or no one is in the right state of mind to respond properly, leading to Leo building his walls back up, and the cycle continues.)

Again, it’s not because Splinter doesn’t love Leo, but Leo…can’t be feeling too good about all that. The way he never reacted surprised about any of Splinter’s words too…

He may know that Splinter loves them all, as a group, but individually…I don’t think Leo believes he ranks all that high with that love. Gives another meaning to “I’m nothing without my brothers” huh?

(Of course, I’m willing to bet the invasion changed that understanding, but with that comes the potential misunderstanding that his father’s outright love is tied to Leo sacrificing himself.)

[willowser]

you don't know how much comfort your dragon king bkg drabble has given me ever since you posted it!! i keep reading it i love it sm 🥹

as it turns out, the man bakugou is — a bit harder to handle.

he sleeps like a heathen; you once thought the dragon bakugou to be a bit lazy, with how often he tended to curl up in the fields of grass, warm under the sun, but now — it would seem his little human form needs significantly less rest.

almost up all hours of the day, and when he does finally lay down, he's everywhere. a mess of limbs: one thrown carelessly out to the side and the other bent at an angle you can't believe doesn't hurt his joints. his head stays tucked into you somehow, either buried in your neck or pressed against your ribs — or you'll wake to find him nose-to-nose with you. he still snores like a dragon, however.

you're also beginning to wonder if there is a bottom to the pit of his stomach. he ate much before, whole fields of things, but you expected that appetite to dwindle, at least a little, now that his stomach has decreased considerably in size. and in number ? you're not even sure how many stomachs a dragon has; that's not something that was mentioned in the fairytales.

it burns through him quickly, gives him more energy than he needs, and it doesn't ever seem to affect his weight much. already, he's huge and thick with muscle and eating as much as he does never dulls the severity of his cut abdomen. not that you're looking all that much.

— not that you have a choice not to, as he seems to have little-to-no understanding of —

the door to the bathhouse kicks open, with enough force that you already know who it is without ever turning to look. you try not to shriek when you see him, because he seems to like that in some evil, impish way.

you've been alone to wash so far, thankfully, as the inn you'd managed to find was small and far enough out from the nearest kingdom that the occupancy was low — enough for you and your little brute.

the man bakugou comes to stand in front of the bath, blinking and huffing against the steam. finding clothes for him was — nearly impossible, and so the trousers you'd found hanging on someone's line outside fit above his ankles, a bit too tight around his waist. instead of a shirt, you've wrapped him in a scratchy linen, swaddled him up like a baby to cover the small smattering of scales that decorate his body, almost like freckles from the sun, though they gleam just as bright and red as they ever have. no matter his form.

a horn has started to sprout, on the right side of his forehead, and you've done your best to cover that, too.

you have no idea how long this man thing will last. if it's permanent or if he even has control over it. the last thing you need is for him to switch back, somehow, while you're in the middle of feeding him, absolutely demolishing whatever tavern you're in and calling all of king todoroki's guards to attention.

bakugou grunts, almost sleepy, and tosses a fat, weighty sack onto the edge of the bath. it jingles a certain jingle that makes your heart stop.

"oh, allfather—" you move for the edge, awkwardly keeping one arm against your chest despite the fact that he's seen it all by now. when you peek inside and confirm your fears, you lob it back to him furiously, as if it were a steaming potato. "where do you keep getting this stuff?"

things have started to turn up, miraculously. shiny things — like coins and rings and gems. things he could not have simply found rolling around in the dirt.

"go put it back!" you hiss at him, and the tone of your voice makes his frown deepen. you never realized how pouty he was, when he was still a dragon.

you think he understands you, and you're pretty certain he just chooses not to listen; instead of doing what you've told him in the slightest, he simply dumps the coin-purse to the floor, and then lets his linen and stolen trousers cover it as he unceremoniously undresses.

the biggest issue that you would say the man bakugou poses is — his complete lack of understanding of personal space.

"bakugou!" your voice wavers, shocked again by his nakedness. as if you haven't seen it all by now. "no, you — get out!"

but he does the exact opposite, which is hop into the steaming water, ignoring the arm you hold out to keep him away as he saddles up beside you. skin against scales, pressing a nose into your hair to huff out his annoyance, to make it something you can feel.

if anyone were to walk in right now, they would — probably think the lie you'd told the innkeeper was true. that you are a simple traveler and this is your mute, over-sized husband.

regardless, you think this behavior isn't polite. especially in a public bathhouse.

"bakugou," you try again, turning your face away as you speak to the wood-paneled wall. "i'm taking a bath, you have to wait your turn."

all you receive in response is another huff against your ear and a low rumble of disagreement from his chest.

he has yet to speak back, and has only used inhuman sounds as his points of conversation. the only word you've ever heard him utter is oi, which he does when he really thinks he needs your attention. you're starting to wonder if he's named you that in his head. oi.

curiously, you turn back to him and the movement has him pulling his face from your hair, just enough that he can look down at you, too. watch you, with the red-rippled sea in his eyes.

they're — amazing, you will admit. just as bright and detailed as they always have been. fit for a fairytale told by the fire, veiled by the soft-ash of his lashes. he watches you through them, half-lidded, and you wonder if it's something other than fatigue that has them so heavy.

"do you know what i'm saying?" you ask quietly, voice lacking the firm heat you want it to. instead it's heavy, too, weighted by something soft and unfamiliar and frightening. "can you even understand me?"

bakugou doesn't respond, not with a huff or a rumble or ever a purr, like the one he let out on the night he lay over you by the lake. you've only heard it sparingly since then, oftentimes in his sleep when his face is pressed into you.

you try not to frown at his silence, try not to let it disappoint you because it shouldn't; he's a dragon afterall, and you're not sure what it matters. the little horn protruding from his forehead catches your eye and you reach up to touch it gently, watching him blink away the water that drips from your wrist — and then he's turning into you again, too close.

beneath the water, you feel his hands skate up your bare thighs, wrap around your waist until your chest is pulled flush against his. you feel his huff, again, against the damp skin of your neck but it's slower, lighter. not laced with his frustration. some unknown thing you feel guilty for liking.

you drop your hand to his hair, rushing full force into all the damned things you've thought about doing but have been too afraid to. he's soft between your fingers, and you trace your nails lightly against his scalp until he groans quietly; a new noise, one you don't know how to translate.

your fingers stop when they brush upon little spines that have grown at the base of his skull, that have started to trail down the center of his back.

suddenly, tangled up in the bath with him, you wonder how much time you have left.

bakugou huffs again into your skin, a little fiercer this time, and it's because of his light jostling that you realize how rigid you've gone. you try to relax so that he will, too, though you must not do a convincing job, because a sharp nip comes to your earlobe.

"ow!" you squeal, but he doesn't let you go far, not even as you try to jerk away from him. in fact, the harder you try the more his teeth show: into your cheek and the point of your jaw and then dangerously low on your neck.

it's not until you finally freeze that he stops, huffing again, with a warmth that burns more than the steaming water.

and then, very quietly, he grumbles, "shitty wife," into your collarbone, just before biting you again.

[bakudekublogblog]

alright I’m bored so here’s my extremely optimistic crack theory: assuming katsuki seeing a vestige means we’ll see him in the vestige realm, when kudo sorted through izuku’s memories he put his forehead on the wall right??

what if izuku is having a crisis about being left quirkless again and vestige katsuki needs to touch foreheads with izuku to show him all his memories of izuku being heroic without a quirk and he tells him “you never needed a quirk. you were always a hero” or something like that because it’s what izuku always needed to hear

[httpiastri]

them!!!!!

[movementsofmylife]

this particular scene (and all the others like it that he pulls off) is why i will have to watch every single thing that war wanarat is in for the rest of my life:

like goddamn that fucking heart broken face at being asked to forgive him, knowing how much he hurt you and that you love him and will forgive him despite it all in the end. and then ending on let me think about it because you can't quite get yourself to verbalize any of this, to let the hurt go just yet.

i did not expect messy engineering bl i started just to have more yinwar b.w jack and joker to hurt me this bad.

[shellem15]

Thinking about the Dawnfather. A god of light, a god of harvest, a god of the sun itself. Good but not nice, kind but not soft. Life-giving but also scorching. Protective, warm, and kind, but also stern, harsh, and abrasive. His light can foster growth, can protect and guide, but it can also scorch and burn. The sun is warm and nurturing but don’t stare at it too long, child, it’ll blind you.

Was he always so hard? Did he always hide his face with the harsh light of the sun? Or was there a time when he smiled and laughed, let others see him as he truly was?

Thinking about the Schism. Was the Dawnfather close to the Betrayer Gods before they turned? He must have been, Asmodeus wouldn’t be so hung up on him if he wasn’t. Speaking of Asmodeus, he was once a being of light, like the Dawnfather and the Everlight are now. Were they closer than the others? When the Gods came to Exandria, did they come from the same place or were they scattered, a ragtag group of survivors fleeing from predators seeking to devour them? And if the latter is true, did these three beings of light come from the same place? Siblings, born from the same stuff, forever tied to one another?

If this was the case, then, what was their relationship before the Schism? Did they call each other “Brother” and “Sister”? Did they hold each other when they were scared, dry each other’s tears, laugh and joke and tease and fight and make up because they were siblings and they’d always be together, and they loved each other with every fiber of their being and they only had each other. When Predathos came, when it devoured two of their newfound siblings, did the Dawnfather hold them both and promise them that everything was going to be okay because he was their brother and he was going to protect them, all of them. The gods, mortals, the world itself, they would not be devoured, they would not be destroyed, because he was there and would fight until his very last breath to keep them safe.

Wondering then, was that the moment when Asmodeus truly grew to hate their creations? Seeing his brother and sister and siblings risk their lives just to protect some mewling mortal wretches when they could just leave it all behind and start somewhere new. Was that the moment when he realized that mortals had done something to them, changed them when they were not supposed to change. Why else would they risk being devoured by Predathos, why else would they suffer through war with the Primordials? Why else would they choose them over him!? Was this the moment when he decided to conspire with the Primordials and the other Betrayer Gods? To destroy this world and the mortals on it so they could finally leave. And they would leave, of course, because the Dawnfather was his brother and the Everlight was his sister and the Gods were a family, and at the end of the day, they would always be together, and once the corrupting influence of those mortals was gone, they would surely all see reason.

And when the Dawnfather discovered this betrayal, when all the Prime Deities did, he must have been furious. How could they!? His kin, his brother, who had always been by his side through everything, how could they turn around and destroy their creations, their children. And so he and the other Primes took up arms and fought against their own family to protect this world they had created, and their children who inhabited it. Those battles must have been brutal, bonds of comradery broken, kin clashing against kin, screaming curses as they tore each other apart.

During those final battles of the Schism, when the Dawnfather clashed against Asmodeus, did they scream at each other in rage? A twisted reflection of previous squabbles, different because this time it was real, this time there is no forgiveness, no making up. When the Dawnfather knocked Asmodeus down, crushed his throat under his foot and banished him to the Hells, was he yelling when he disowned him? Or was he quiet when he did it, his voice going into a low growl, deadly calm as he told him that he was not his brother anymore. And moments previously, when the Dawnfather could have easily killed him, did he look into Asmodeus’s eyes and see his brother? Scared and hurt by his hands, hands that once held him and swore to protect him. In that moment, did the Dawnfather realize he couldn’t kill him? Because that was his brother and despite everything, he still loved him, and hurting him brought him more grief and pain than he could ever imagine. So instead, he banished him, locked him and all the other Betrayers away because he and the other Primes couldn’t bring themselves to kill their family, but they also couldn’t let them free.

Was this when the Dawnfather obscured his face? Hardened his heart because otherwise he would break, and he cannot break, because the other gods need him to be strong, because Exandria needs him to be strong. And so he stayed strong, despite the grief, despite the guilt, despite the pain of heartbreak, of hurting the ones he loved to protect the ones he loved. And this hardening must have continued, running himself ragged during Calamity, beating back Tharizdun, protecting Ioun after she almost died, sheltering the Everlight after Asmodeus once again betrayed her, stabbed her in the back and left her broken and weak when all she wanted was to do was get her brother back, to save him from his own wrath. Failure after failure after failure to protect those he cared about, to protect his siblings and mortals and Exandria itself. The guilt of his failures must be overwhelming, and these are his failures: Predathos devoured his siblings under his watch, his siblings betrayed them under his watch, Calamity ravaged Exandria under his watch, and even now, the threat of Predathos has once again returned under his watch.

No wonder he is so harsh now, so controlling now: because every time he has failed in his vigilance the world has suffered for it. He can’t fail again; he can’t lose any more siblings. And so, he continues hardening his heart, continues fighting, because the sun must always rise again in the morning, no matter what.

[zeb-z]

I just think Tallulah gets to be upset about this. “It’s not Wilbur’s fault” “He’s not a bad dad” “He loves his daughter so much” yes! These are all true! And it’s not his fault! But he’s still not there. And Tallulah has gone through so much and still hasn’t seen him, the one time he was around was the one time she wasn’t, and all she has are letters and “I’m thinking of you always” and things that used to be theirs together, but he’s still not there. She’s waited and she’s been patient and she’s loved him all the same, and he’s still not there. Like yesterday, and the day before, and the day before, from the happy milestones to the traumatic events, he’s still not there.

She knows that it’s not his fault, but it doesn’t change the fact that he’s absent. That in and of itself just adds to the sorrow, because she knows why he’s gone, and she’s been told time and time again it doesn’t mean he doesn’t care, she knows this - it doesn’t mean it doesn’t sting, that it doesn’t hurt, that she doesn’t yearn for her father to be there more than anything in the world, and he’s just not there.

So yes, she gets to be upset, and be caustic, and stomp her feet and write bitter messages, and be angry and vitriolic, because she’s a little girl missing her father, who feels things with her whole heart and soul - and that means she gets to feel the ugly parts of it, too.

[kazumahashimoto]

you're colder than i remember

[theflyindutchwoman]

So do we think Grey is riding with Lucy because he wants to check up on her and see how she is doing (in a fatherly way)? Which would be kind of poetic, when you think about it… After all, he's had front row seats to so many of her moments with Tim… even nudged them in the right direction. And it seems like he's going to check on Tim as well... The man is invested in them, right?!

[kiisuuumii]

to every woman and to every trans, queer, bipoc, and/or disabled person, i am holding your hand so tightly right now

[triple-pupil]

So I heard that recently, the creator of The Backyardigans, Janice Burgess, passed away.

I loved that show and it's characters ever since I was little, still do to this day, it was creative and fun, I still love watching my favorite episodes and listening to my favorite songs.

I made a couple of doodles of the characters at least last year, so I'll try to find them (I don't remember where they are ): )

I hope she knew how her show impacted so many of us, even beyond the USA, and I hope she's resting easy.

[shima-draws]

Shima is it Coralaw 👀👀👀

...................MAYBE