#kids in need of defense

[theloveinc]

Just thought about … oh my god. Bakugo’s first real battle with a formidable villain after your kid is born; he’s not exactly “out of shape” (he never quit the gym, routine, etc… just changed it), but he’s thrown down hard in the first couple seconds, and he’s slower to get back into position—taking the time to steady his feet and assess the terrain, pushing out the lil tummy he gained feeding you postpartum delicacies as he cracks his back—

And the villain, god help them, decides to call out to him as they use the few seconds of vulnerability to attack again, screaming, “hey pop pop, don’t tell me parenthood has made you soft! How ‘bout I start calling you ‘daddy,’ too?”

Just as Bakugo’s turning back around with a new fire in his eyes, blood all warmed up, and shooting off to grab them by the throat to end the fight in one single move.

[shalomniscient]

im feixiao dad brainrotting and methinks modern feixiao would work in the military, maybe she adopts a kid too who like her also grew up in an active warzone and lost their parents. maybe she rescues this kid and the kid is now attached to her and vice versa.

she's definitely making that kid get into boxing when they are old enough

omg this could be an expansion to modern!au feixiao lore… feixiao who goes into the military after college maybe for family reasons to honor yueyu or to become like her. she climbs up the ranks with remarkable speed, known in the barracks for her strength, resilience and courage. she makes a point to always call you when she can, even when she’s on deployment. knowing you’re back home waiting for her is always motivation for her to push through.

borisin territory is always a model of hell, though. she slogs through it, gunblades at the ready, her finger always on the trigger. jets shriek over her head, and in the distance she can hear the xianzhou LUX cannons powering up. it hums in the back of her mind, a low vibration in her ears, and she thinks it’s the worst part about the whole job. but she presses ever onward, like a bullet, cutting down borisin slavers and breaking the chains of any slaves under her heel. each one both breaks her heart and drives her forward, but one particular one has her stilling.

a child, with a shock of pure white hair, kneeling in the bloodstained mud, looking up at her with a look feixiao recognises—a look she remembers.

she swallows, then casts her gaze again back to the battlefield. the borisin are retreating, fleeing with their tails between their legs. the lux arrow sings overhead, then detonates the routing borisin with a dull, distant final note. she moves without thinking, crouching down and shielding the child with her body from the harsh winds produced in the fallout.

she feels tiny hands fist in the front of her uniform, wetness in the crook of her neck, and something in feixiao’s heart breaks.

she takes the child back to the xianzhou base, and they refuse to part from her. even when it came to getting the child a medical check-up, they nearly wept themselves unconscious at having to be separated from feixiao. feixiao had to be the one to bathe them; or at least, pass a wet rag over their skin and face for now since she physically couldn’t get them to let her go to properly bathe them. as the child dozes off in her arms that first night, still clinging tight to her, she leans her head back and sighs softly.

what is she even going to tell you?

she prepares for the worst, but you take it… remarkably in stride. you’re surprised, certainly, but she thinks you can see the bond that’s formed between the two, from the way the child holds onto feixiao when she walks through the airport terminal to you. she told you about it in advance over the phone, of course, she wouldn’t spring something so huge as a child on you out of nowhere. but still, it makes her knees nearly give out in relief when she sees you offer the child a small smile and a gentle greeting. you make a point to not get too close to the child when you give her a quick welcome back kiss, ensuring they get to have their personal space, and it warms her heart.

it takes some time for the kid to open up to you, but it happens faster than feixiao expects. or maybe she does expect it somewhat; you’ve always been good with her. in any case, progress is steady—for the first few months the child only ever speaks to feixiao since she knows firsthand how to handle such a child, but soon they start asking you for little things with one word questions, then full sentences, and then they start really talking to you, pointing out things they notice or asking how things work. her heart feels like it might burst the first time she sees the child take your hand in a crowded mall, and she quickly leans over the tiny tears of joy that gather in your lashes.

sometimes she’s so full of love for the both of you she feels dizzy with it. the first time she comes home to see you snuggled on the couch with the child in your arms, both sleeping soundly, she nearly weeps. instead she grabs a blanket from the wardrobe then cuddles right up next to you both, wrapping you in her arms. this is her family now—hers. and there’s nothing in the world she wouldn’t do for you both.

[stardust948]

Guardian Lu Ten AU

Lu Ten, about to pick up the siblings: It'll be good to see the kids again. It has been far too long. They used to be so cute and tiny.

[Sees Zuko with half of his face bandaged and Azula with uneven chopped up hair]

Lu Ten:

Lu Ten, trying to lighten the mood: Did you two get hit by a bus while I was gone?

Zuko and Azula: *cries*

Lu Ten, panicking: I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry-

[fate-of-the-envious]

The Judoflip in HOO

Do you know what always bewildered me? The judoflip scene in HOO. Not only did Annabeth unexpectedly slam Percy (her boyfriend, not an enemy) on the hard ground with her knees pressed to his chest and her arm to his throat as she threated him to never leave her, but also Percy was slammed to the ground ON HIS BACK WHERE HIS MORTAL SPOT ONCE WAS!!! Annabeth didn't know that he didn't have the curse anymore. That could have easily killed him! One misplaced rock could have hit the small of his back, and he would be DEAD!

Not only was this an abusive and concerning reaction to slam Percy on the ground, but it really shows how much Percy's fatal flaw being loyalty can not see how this is WRONG because he laughed! You don't hit your partner if they're being stupid; you don't elbow them in the ribs if they can't guess what you're thinking; you don't kick them in the shins to shut up. AND YOU DON'T JUDOFLIP YOUR PARTNER FOR BEING KIDNAPPED!!!

This isn't a romantic or healthy relationship. It's toxic and unhealthy codependent where Percy will give and give, and Annabeth will take and take until Percy has nothing left.

[short-wooloo]

Considering the rise of forced-birth, anti divorce extremists in this country, people really need to appreciate the no marriage no bio kids norms/values of the Jedi

[ghost-bxrd]

Prompt:

The first mission the Court send their newly minted Talon on is an assassination attempt on the ward of one Bruce Wayne… Dick Grayson.

Calvin— can’t kill Dick. He can’t.

He didn’t know it would be the boy he grew up in the circus with they want him to murder in cold blood. He didn’t know— didn’t recognize him until the knife was already at his throat.

But he remembers now. And he won’t do it. Never. Never.

He’ll run. Disappear. Dick doesn’t know who he is, it’s better that way, and if he’s lucky the Court will be too busy hunting him to care about the failed assassination.

Unfortunately for Calvin, Dick does remember; Recognizes the Talon.

And he’s not inclined to let his childhood best friend slip through his fingers again after years of believing him dead.

[ruegarding]

bianca as a commentary on the adultification of demigod kids. bc hades never cared that she was a kid, he cared that she was a chess piece he could use to win a game against his brothers. and it didn't matter that she was a kid, she had to take care of her brother bc he was the back up and she was the only person in nico's life. so she had to take up the role of parent to make up for her mother's loss and her father's shortcomings. and when she's finally offered an out she dies to take responsibility bc it's all she knows. bc she never got to be a kid and she never got to have someone take care of her. and hades is upset she's dead not bc he cares abt her as his child but bc she was his chess piece and she was removed from the board before he got a checkmate.

[thestarfilledsea]

art dump for sleeping sun

[lovesickeros]

☆ i dream of embers

{☆} characters arlecchino {☆} notes no au, drabble, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings none {☆} word count 1.1k

The House of the Hearth is quiet — or, if you really wanted to be precise, the rats scuttling through the walls are working around the bubble you exist in. The children dare not tempt fates hand unless you asked for them by name, a contradiction. An order to the rules — they mustn't approach you with trivialities, but they must listen if you speak. Your words carry more weight than gold in this house, whether you know it or not.

A tenuous position.

You haven't done anything to earn their reverence, their almost acrid fear — but Arlecchino has. She wields her silver tongue with as much ease as her polearm, ensuring your care in her absence. Her devotion, her service, is felt in the warmth of her chambers, the silks she adorns you with, the bed so soft you feel as though you melt into it. A gift, a promise — a gilded cage need not be something undesirable.

You've grown used to the encumbrance of her presence, these days. The deep timbre of her voice, honeyed yet melting into something rougher, quieting into haunting silence as if she seeks not to disturb you. Dim candlelight is all that illuminates her broad frame as she slowly presses the door open and closed behind her, pallid skin streaked with darkening red, her bottom lip smeared with it like lipstick. There is a tension to her shoulders even when she sets aside her polearm, out of sight and out of mind, harsh lines on her face visible in the deep furrow of her thin brows.

Here, she let's the weariness settle deep into her bones — it's just the two of you, even if she hasn't acknowledged you at all. Still, it's a vulnerability she shows no other, even if that vulnerability is hidden behind layers of barbed wire and teeth.

You watch rather idly from the bed as she wets a cloth in a basin of water, the bed creaking beneath you as your feet sink into the plush rug beneath. You know from experience that trying to help her is like trying to soothe a wild dog, but your knuckles brush over the sharp line of her cheek anyway, free hand stealing the soaking cloth from her hands when her jaw flexes and tenses beneath the pads of your fingers.

It is only then that she looks down at you, eyes as sharp as blades yet so indescribably warm — like a flame licking at your skin, burning so deep you feel it linger for weeks after. Arlecchino is not soft, far from it — but she blunts her jagged edges for you anyway, brushes her lips against your knuckles and allows you a moment of adoration. Carves her worship bone deep in the ghost of her touch against your lower back as she leans down, let's you wash away the blood certainly not her own, never blinking as if you'd simply up and leave if she stopped looking at you for even the smallest moment.

You are well aware she is caging you in. You let her.

Though she is still stiff as a board up to the moment you set the washcloth over the side of the basin, her jaw flexing again, a moment of consideration given. She is not used to soft and brittle things, though — not used to touch that does not lead to steel at her throat, in her gut, carving out softness like a butcher carves up meat, section by section.

But this affliction of affection is stronger than the discomfort, at times.

You almost half consider letting her take the room and have a night of proper rest, but she is faster than you — a calloused hand tilts your head back, half lidded eyes glinting beneath the weight of exhaustion, her thumb firm against your bottom lip. She could kill you without even blinking, you are aware, but she is nothing but careful with her touch — not soft, not Arlecchino, but there is adoration in her touch. Like thumbing a locket portrait, trying to imprint their features into memory by touch alone.

Her touch is fleeting, but the warmth lingers long after — you don't need to be touching to feel the weight of her attention. She stokes the flames of the dying fire, has one of the children bring a fresh pot of tea, lingers even when she doesn't have to. You're sure her desk in her office is far more comfortable to work at, but she'd crammed a small desk into the room anyway, stayed even long after you fell asleep most nights. You never did get to stay up long enough to notice her slip in beside you, nor wake up early enough to find her there with you, but the heat lingers — she leaves breakfast at your bedside table, a small note of affection if she's feeling particularly sappy. Even when you don't see her, she makes sure you feel her presence however she can.

Neither of you need to speak to express it. The silence is..oddly comfortable, filled by the shift of paper or scratch of a pen, the clink of a cup or crackle of fire. It's a little too easy to get lost in watching her work, masking a smile whenever she glanced back at you with a question on the tip of her tongue that goes unsaid.

It's better that way, you both think. The silence was best left undisturbed — as if trying to break it would be like breaking the mirror to each others lives. You don't busy yourself in the affairs of the House of the Hearth, and she doesn't make you. It's better that way, too. Maybe that makes you naive, blind even, to the bodies at her feet piled so high she could drown, but you don't want to give up this fragile tranquility.

So you let the dull scratch of a pen lull you to sleep, try not to smile too much when a hand reaches out in uncertainty to cup your cheek, thumb brushing over your cheek with so much affection it makes it hard to breathe.

It's a tenuous balance, but come the next night you will wipe the blood from her cheek again and she will care for you the only way she knows how — distant service.

And when you wake up to an empty bed, warm despite the fires long burned out, you'll still feel her presence in the allure of a warm drink and pastries at your bedside, a note tucked beneath the plate.

Just like the day before, and just as you expect tomorrow to be. But one day you'll gently pull apart the barbed wire and be let in — not today, no, but someday. It's a slow process, but you're patient enough to wait — and when she let's you in, you'll tend to the scars that it left like you've always done.

One step at a time, one day.

[catiuskaa]

man my pinterest has gotta be so confused…

[skyf0ckz]

A lil spider!Danny for the soul is good for you

[guardian-angle22]

Tw: max gao lmfao thanks for that, shitting on the straight white male lead since day one, fine, though already unprofessional enough, but constantly feeling like he has to bring down the rest of the diverse cast to praise his crush, and relishing in the show ending has been beyond insufferable.

[reference to my tags on this post]

I mean lets be real, a lot of the fandom has been shitting on Owen/Rob for years. and plenty of people in fandom would probably say the same things he has over the years without most people batting an eye.

... and tbh that is exactly the problem I have with him because he is not a fandom account. He is a professional tweeting from his professional account. It's bad enough that he outsources what questions to ask his interviewees and then takes credit for being ~such a great interviewer with such insightful questions~ but don't make posts that put down the hard work of actors who you have met and spoken with (and in some cases follow your account) by saying their work "falls flat" on your professional account.

[here-comes-the-moose]

Okay so I always talk about how Tech gives me the vibes of being pretty calm unless it comes to his wife (Phee) or his siblings, so I was just imagining Tech getting a bit heated in a situation like that and Phee is basically like 😮😍😏

[twinstxrs]

there’s probably something deeply wrong with me because every time i see someone react to the pok gukgak interrogation scene it’s like “oh no oh my god is riz’s dad a bad guy?” when the first time i saw that scene my only thought was “oh my god is riz’s dad HOT??”

[polysyndetonaddictsupportgroup]

Okay now I'm curious about your TMA/Gravity Falls crossover. Is it like the cast of TMA get a cartoony summer adventure or is it like the cast of Gravity Falls have to deal with The Horrors? Or is it something else?

See this fic enchants me because it’s sort of both. One of the Rules of the fic is that the characters absolutely must maintain the conventions of their genre. So it’s the TMA universe and all of its grimdark cosmic horror grappling with the metaphysically displaced Mystery Twins, who operate on cartoon logic.

So it’s a lot of:

Elias: As you can see, you are all quite trapped. Under the contract, you cannot quit and you cannot kill me, so I suggest you all--

Mabel and Dipper: *exchange a look*

Dipper, stonefaced: *shrinks him with the size changing gem*

Mabel: *picks him up by his blazer and puts him in a jar*

The TMA crew: *staring*

Dipper, clapping once: so that's him handled.

Tim, completely broken, having to sit down: what

Dipper: I mean he can't do his evil machinations when he's like two inches tall in a jar and he's not going to die either so--oh uh Mabel? You put holes in that jar right?

Mabel, already going through Elias’s wallet and pocketing the cash: I can't be expected to think of everything Dipper

Dipper: I'm sure he's fine there, there was some air to start with and--we'll add holes. We'll add some holes

[ringzgukgak]

“You simply must honor the cock.”

Fantasy High: Junior Year | ep. 16