Thee Kiddos

happy pride my fellow aces

post canon labru is so fucking peak are you kidding me. the king of melini and his most trusted advisor. his right hand man. whispering in his ear. a regal wolf and the little raven perched beside him. sneaking around the castle at night. HAND KISSING. oh my god. kabru needs to take his king's hand in his and kiss it while looking up at him through his eyelashes.

the king of melini, the devourer of all things horrible, wrapped around kabru's finger. like. this guy ate a demon and hes just like. a big dog around him. like its sick. sole survivor of his hometown and now he's got a king warming his bed at night. scratching under his chin and calling him a good boy right after a meeting.

im just. so in awe. kabru looked at laios and went "im going to whisper in his ear if its the last thing i do" and by god he did it.

🐐

dungeon meshi // abbey - mitski

i want more stories of boys growing up idolizing women

calling women their heroes, telling women they want to be just like them when they’re grown up

men being fondly told anecdotes of how they’re acting just like their lady mentors at that age

how everyone can see so much of those women in them

how they should be proud to carry that influence with them

💧 (old totk art i never posted from last year + a recent scribbly one)

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another beautiful bisexual plagued by back pain... many such cases

Cries for Senshi

Remembers and cries harder

i headcanon that gabe and emilie would want to create a sentibaby that's a mix of their own DNA--which, why can't they do that? Dusuu's got to use some sort of genetic material

but what if they wanted to test the possible combinations of their DNA before deciding on their perfect designer baby? what if you're adrien agreste model 1.0? it's a little weird when you come into the world, fully grown, and the first thing you're asked to do is turn around slowly on the spot. there's some lady in a mask and a peacock dress, smiling as you stand there, awaiting judgement. her counterpart, standing behind her, seems uncertain. but you don't think much of that. there's no time to think much of that--not when all of a sudden you're sitting at a desk, with pages of equations written on them. problems you're meant to solve.

somehow, you know you've learned this math somewhere--even if you don't remember when or how. but they keep watching you--scrutinizing every line of your pencil. you finally dare to ask them about it--because it's weird, right? and god, if they could just leave you alone for ten minutes, you could probably finish this easily. but your examiners' lips turn down at your outburst. and you're snapped away before you even manage to look back down at the page

what if you're adrien agreste model 13.6, and everything you do elicits little whoops of joy from the peacock lady? in your several hours of existence, you've spoken five different languages and carried out a slew of endurance, agility, and cognitive tests. and most importantly--although you don't know why your examiners seem to praise you for this--you never talked back once

the peacock lady claps her hands together, and even the man behind her--who you've come to realize isn't nearly as easy to crack--can't seem to stop smiling. and you don't understand why something about that fills you with dread, but it does. it's a sort of all-consuming, impossible to shake dread. but you smile through it anyways

you don't know that once you disappear, a smaller version of you will come forth into the world. or that, years later, you'll feel that same sort of sick feeling in your gut

you're adrien agreste model 13.7, and you don't know there's anything weird about the way you came into this world. you don't realize your mother sometimes misses 6.8's dimples, or that your father often wishes they'd gone with 11.2--who would have had a real head for business

and you never do figure out why something always feels just a little bit wrong