Protective - Blog Posts

The ultimate salt!!!! ⏫⏬⏩◀✨

Big Brother to the Rescue!

This fic was inspired by @justcourttee - A Brother’s Love. I loved her fic and I couldn’t stop thinking….what if this happened?

Jason sighed, rereading the text he had gotten again from Gina.

Nona: Jay, I am unable to get to Paris in the time I wished. My son and his wife are having problems with my Little Fairy. They claim her to be a bully and a brute, but I know this is not my Little Fairy. I am her guardian now and my plan was to bring her with me. Go in my stead and take her to Gotham. She told me she has a date with her boyfriend, Adrien Agreste. Break the news to her gently.

Gina had traveled with him for awhile and was always there for him when he got in a fight with Bruce. They could disappear on the road and travel, forget their worries. Gina had told him about her granddaughter, her ‘Little Fairy’, Marinette Dupain-Cheng. She was an inspiring fashion designer, who was also her class’ president. She had designed for Jagged Stone and won a contest from Gabriel Agreste. She even had the opportunity to be mentored by Style Queen, herself, in New York, and turned it down. Gina had told him so many things about Marinette, he felt as if she was his little sister. When Gina told him that Pixie was getting bullied again and no one would help or see her side of things, he had gotten upset. Even her boyfriend had told her to make peace with the bully and to let it go. She had never asked him for a favor before and he didn’t want to let her down.

Jason had taken the first flight to Paris to bring his little sister home to Gotham. He watched as she left the bakery and pressed the button to head to the park when her phone rang.

“Adrien? Yeah, I’m just heading-Oh. Ye-Yeah, I can meet you there instead. Sure. Bye.” Marinette spoke and quickly took off in another direction.

'Sounds like a change of plans.’

Keep reading

i bet rosa hated. (hated!) being treated like she was weak, for being a white mage. that she spent her teenage years proud and ready to serve, just like cecil and kain, but was always shunted to the backline and protected, despite the fact that she could protect herself. that being kidnapped by golbez and being forced to be a damsel in distress drove her insane. that she wanted to protect cecil and kain just as much as they wanted to protect her- maybe even more.

Sometimes you just have to capture the moment.

All The Yes!

Angel Dust being violently protective of Husk, and will NOT hesitate!

Started out as a warm up, turned into the project as usual😄✨

Whenever I have dreams that should technically be nightmares (full of gore psychological torture) I just go with the plot because I know it’s a dream but I’m really curious.

HOWEVER!

In my most recent nightmare that I was going along with: the evil entity tried to make me kill my own cat.. I get extremely violent IN REAL LIFE if someone even JOKES about hurting her…

So I proceeded to summon a metal pole and beat the shit out of eldritch demon Vanny.

Me when Eldritch demon Vanny tries to make me hurt my cat:

Protecting The Musician

Request: Yes @chanbien

The atmosphere backstage was electric as I prepared for my performance. I had been working tirelessly on this set, and sharing the stage with someone as inspiring as Kamala Harris felt like a dream come true. My heart raced with anticipation, and I could hardly wait to showcase my music to an audience that included her.

As I stood by the side of the stage, tuning my guitar, I overheard a commotion in the audience. My stomach twisted when I recognized the loud, brash voice that cut through the excitement—Donald Trump. He had just taken the stage for a brief appearance, and it was clear he was up to his usual antics.

“Why are we even listening to her?” I heard him scoff, his tone dripping with disdain. “What has she ever done that’s so special?”

Anger flared within me at his disrespect for Kamala. This was a woman who had fought tirelessly for justice, equality, and the rights of others, and yet here he was, belittling her without a second thought. I could see Kamala standing tall and composed on the other end of the stage, radiating strength despite the jab.

I took a deep breath, reminding myself that this moment was bigger than us. It wasn’t just about a performance; it was about standing up for what was right. I could feel a surge of determination coursing through me. I was going to dedicate my set to her—to the resilience of anyone who faced disrespect and opposition.

When it was finally my turn to step into the spotlight, I walked out with my head held high. The audience was a mix of cheers and jeers, but I focused on Kamala, who was watching intently, her eyes encouraging. I strummed the first chord and let the music flow through me, pouring all my passion into every note.

As I sang, I could see Kamala smile, her presence invigorating me. I wrote the song with her spirit in mind—about resilience, empowerment, and standing up against those who try to bring us down. With each verse, I let my message resonate, hoping it would reach not only her but everyone in the room.

When I finished, the applause erupted, drowning out any negativity left lingering in the air. Kamala stood and clapped enthusiastically, her smile wide as she approached the front of the stage. My heart swelled with pride as she leaned down to speak to me.

“You were fantastic,” she said, her voice warm and genuine. “Thank you for reminding us why we stand strong together.”

In that moment, I knew that no amount of disrespect from anyone could change the power of our voices. We were here to uplift one another, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

The indomitable strength that women like her embody. I poured my heart into the lyrics, each verse a tribute to those who had fought battles both seen and unseen.

The audience began to sway with the rhythm, some clapping along while others were caught up in the emotion of the moment. The notes danced in the air, filling the space between us with a sense of solidarity that transcended politics. In that fleeting instant, it felt as though we were all connected—each one of us standing up for a better future, inspired by a remarkable woman who dared to dream big.

As I reached the final chorus, I glanced back at Kamala, and our eyes locked. Her gaze was fierce, filled with pride and determination. I could see the impact of what I was doing; it wasn’t just a performance anymore. It was a declaration. A statement that no matter how loud the dissenters got, we’d keep singing and fighting for what we believe in.

When the last note hung in the air, the audience erupted into applause. I took a moment to let it wash over me, feeling the gratitude and support flowing from the crowd. But more importantly, I wanted to acknowledge Kamala. I gestured toward her, signaling my respect for her unwavering spirit and tenacity.

It was then that I saw something incredible happen. Kamala stood up and clapped, a broad smile on her face. It felt like a culmination of everything she represented—a celebration of resilience and the power of voice. In that moment, I realized that we were all part of something bigger than ourselves, a movement for change and hope.

After the show, I had the chance to meet Kamala backstage. With excitement bubbling inside me, I approached her, still riding the high of the performance. “Thank you for being such an inspiration,” I said, my voice tinged with awe. “Your strength means so much to artists like me.”

She smiled warmly, her eyes sparkling with kindness. “You have an incredible gift, Y/n. Never underestimate the power of your voice. Keep shining!”

Those words resonated within me as we spoke, solidifying my commitment to use my music as a platform for advocacy.

In a world where voices can often be drowned out, I vowed to be unyielding, to let my music speak for those who needed to be heard, and to carry forward the legacy of inspiring leaders like Kamala Harris.

As I left the venue that night, my heart swelled with purpose. I knew this was just the beginning, and I was ready to embrace whatever came next.

Respect My Wife

Request: No

In the bustling corridors of the White House, where the echoes of history mingled with the pressing issues of the present, Vice President Kamala Harris stood with a fierce determination in her eyes. It was a day like any other, filled with meetings and briefings, but her mind was elsewhere—focused on Y/N, her beloved wife, who had recently found herself the target of unwarranted criticism from none other than Donald Trump.

Y/N had always been a beacon of strength, a voice of reason, and a source of unwavering support for Kamala. But in the wake of Trump's latest tirade, which had twisted Y/N's words and intentions, Kamala felt a protective instinct surge within her. She was not just the Vice President; she was a partner, and she would not stand idly by while the man who once occupied the highest office in the land hurled baseless accusations.

As the news broke, Kamala's phone buzzed with alerts, the headlines flashing across the screen. Trump’s comments dripped with condescension, belittling Y/N's contributions and character. It was a low blow, a tactic designed to undermine not just Y/N but the values they both stood for. With every word she read, Kamala's resolve hardened.

Gathering her staff, Kamala conveyed her thoughts with clarity and passion. "We cannot let this stand. Y/N deserves respect and support, not the petty attacks of a man who has proven time and again that he thrives on division and disrespect." Her voice resonated in the room, igniting a fire in the hearts of those around her.

Later that day, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the White House, Kamala found Y/N in their private quarters. Y/N looked up, a mixture of weariness and determination painted across their face. Kamala approached, her expression softening as she took Y/N's hands in hers. "I saw what he said," Y/N admitted, their voice steady but tinged with hurt. "It’s just noise, Kamala. I can handle it."

But Kamala shook her head, her brow furrowing with concern. "It's not just noise when it comes from someone like him. You’ve worked too hard, and you deserve better. I won't let him diminish what you’ve accomplished or who you are." There was a fierce light in her eyes, a protective fire that spoke volumes about her love and commitment.

In that moment, Y/N felt a swell of gratitude. Kamala’s strength had always been a source of inspiration, but this was different. It was a reminder that they were in this together, facing the storms of public scrutiny side by side.

“Let him throw his shade,” Kamala continued, her voice steady. “He’s just mad that he doesn’t have what we have. Love, integrity, and a vision for a better future.”

Y/N smiled, a warmth spreading through them as Kamala leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to their forehead. “We’ll rise above this. Together.”

As the night deepened, Kamala knew that the political landscape could be tumultuous, but with Y/N by her side, she felt invincible. They would confront whatever challenges lay ahead, hand in hand, heart to heart, undeterred by the words of those who sought to tear them apart. Together, they would shine brighter than any shadow cast by the past.