Eliot found a way to make his style work at Dalton Academy. It just worked a little too well.

Despite all appearances, Loki was quite good with children. Mostly his own, but other children too. Even if their parents disapproved. Crack one-shot, Avenger!Loki/Norse!Loki, no pairings. Complete.

It's Go Time!

Claude gets a new car. Cameron doesn't like it.

Three weeks after their wedding, they give Sherlock a ring.

And Dorian – who hasn’t maliciously thought of Bull as a beast in years, who hasn’t said the words even jokingly in months – still finds himself struck with what he was taught about the Qunari, what he still thinks when a new Vashoth joins the Inquisition. And now, every time the child opens his wide dark eyes and blinks lazily up at Dorian, every time he seems surprised by his own hands waving in front of his face, every time he laughs and squawks and hiccups after he’s done crying… Dorian thinks he can do better, for this child. He will. He rocks the child in his arms late at night and whispers against the tight curls springing out of the sweet crown of his head, coaxes him to sleep for papa, darling, that’s a good boy.

Eliot technically stole a baby, which is actually the least of Leverage's problems.

Dudley Dursley's life is exactly as he'd like it: ordinary.

HOLY FUCK IS THAT A BABY?! The howling anguish of the Burial Mounds goes silent. Wei Wuxian has returned, and he has brought other people with him, and one of those people is, indeed, a baby. The little caravan of weary living people (who have a fucking baby with them) works its way up what might generously be called a path, deeper into the cursed hills, and they have the full attention of many, many ghosts. Resentful energy burns away, boiling into nothing under the utter shock of the situation. Who the fuck brings a baby to the Burial Mounds? Or: People think Wei Wuxian somehow cleansed the resentment of the Burial Mounds for the Wen survivors, but actually, the ghosts did it as babyproofing.

Crumpled at the base of Koi Tower’s long stairs for the second time, Jin Guangyao presses his face into the stone, takes a deep breath despite re-broken ribs, and arranges his features as carefully as he knows how. Then he stands, moving carefully around the pain, and bows deep, arms held straight and true. The walk back up the steps to his father's side is painful enough to wipe the smile from his face; it is not painful enough to prevent him re-taking his place as seneschal, bowing again at the top of the steps. As he straightens, he prioritizes his plans for his father’s demise over all else.

Well, shit, Nie Huaisang thought, even as he comforted Jin Rusong, petting the toddler’s back to try to get him to calm down. What do I do now?

“Hey,” Lao Nie protested mildly. “Who’s the father here, me or you?” “If a-die wants a new wife, little uncle will find one that isn’t inclined to kill him.” That sounded like a recitation. “Then what’s even the point,” Lao Nie grumbled, and reached out to ruffle his son’s hair, enjoying how Nie Mingjue yelped when he did, glaring up at him with offended dignity.

Nie Huaisang’s rooms in the Unclean Realm had a little side door that no one but him ever used. Years after he’d put it out of his mind entirely, there came a terrible banging noise at that little side door, like someone was kicking at it furiously from the outside. Lan Wangji, white robes stained with blood and cheeks bright with fever, shoved something into his arms. “You have a child now,” he said through bitten lips. “Congratulations. He is called A-Yuan. I entrust you with his care, for my sect cannot be trusted with it.”

Over the years, Mario has become accustomed to Sidney's many idiosyncrasies, but he has to admit the spontaneous de-aging is a bit unexpected.

“How’d you get stuck with babysitting duty anyway?” Boba asked one day during dinner. “Oh, I volunteered for this,” Fox told him. “Why the kark would you do that?” “Language,” Fox admonished. “Well, I was just living my normal boring life and I thought to myself, ‘I don’t get called an ugly piece of banthashit often enough.’ So I decided to adopt you.” Boba snorted. “You’re a psychopath,” he told Fox. “I’ve been called worse,” Fox replied breezily.