Depresedsimp - Untitled Mess

Rip Damian Al Ghul Wayne, you would’ve loved Dungeon Meshi.

I imagine Maps gets him into it. It’s doesn’t take a lot of convincing since they already have a dnd (or whatever dc’s equivalent is) campaign with Jon, Maya, Kathy, and Colin. Damian prefers to read physical copies so he orders a box set and binges it one night.

His favourite character is probably Chilchuck. I think that he relates to not being treated seriously, especially because he’s yet to grow out of his baby face. He also finds him the most reasonable out of the group, which he appreciates.

He is a huge Farcille fan. He is kinda mad that they never got together at the end, but he does have an ao3 account so…

He really appreciates the world building. He especially likes how all the races have different and unique features. I think he’s already planning a campaign set in the world of Dungeon Meshi.

Like Father, Like Daughter

A/N: Based on a prompt.

Title: Like Father, Like Daughter

Summary: Geralt should have expected his child’s first word to be ‘fuck’.

Words: 640

“Fuck!”

Geralt paused. “What?”

“Fuck!” The little girl bounced on the blanket Geralt had set her on, pointing with chubby fingers across the river. Usually, he’d ignore her senseless baby babble or simply nod along to whatever was coming from her mouth, but that had not been senseless babble. It’d been a word.

He’d been somewhat attempting to gain a word or two from her for a few weeks now, each attempt a valiant failure, considering she seemed to prefer her ‘ga’s and ‘goo’s. It’d been an irritating process, but he’d been told—by who, he couldn’t remember. Probably Vesemir—that babies didn’t start speaking until they reached at least ten months. He would never be sure of course, but Akela couldn’t have been more than a new-born when he’d found her in the woods, making her eight months old now. She couldn’t even walk yet.

But she’d just spoken.

A corner of his lips began to curl upwards, until it froze, and his eyes widened as he realised what she’d just spoken.

He craned his neck to look where she was pointing. He breathed a nervous chuckle. “Duck, Akela,” he corrected, making his way towards her. “That’s a duck.”

“Fuck!”

“Duck.”

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!”

He sighed and lowered himself beside her, balancing on the toes of his boots. Honestly, he wasn’t surprised that had been her first word. It was his first word every time something went wrong, or Akela decided to use her newfound crawling abilities to hide from him after he’d turned around for a second. He didn’t really care either, but he knew he’d get more looks than he’d prefer when around other people if the baby was constantly cursing.

Akela stopped bouncing long enough for him to gently grasp her shoulders. She blinked at him with those bright blue eyes, pouty lips parted. “Don’t say that,” he said slowly, letting her absorb each word. “It’s ‘duck’. With a ‘d’. Duck.”

She stared, clearly processing, before giving him a two-toothed smile and bouncing again. “Fuck!”

Geralt hummed and swung her up into his arms. He trudged towards the riverbank. “Duck,” he said firmly, pointing at the mallard floating in the middle of the water. He looked back at the baby, not an ounce of confusion on her face. Instead, she stared at the duck for a good few seconds and turned back to Geralt with yet another goofy grin.

“Fuck!” she decided.

“No. Duck.”

“Fuck!”

“Duck, Akela! It’s a fucking duck!”

In the eight months since he’d found the little girl, he had learnt many things. A big one was that raising his voice, even a small bit, would make her cry. It started with a trembling lip, then her big eyes began to well with tears, then she’d start sobbing, and he’d feel guilty. He’d never known guilt before Akela.

What was worse, though, was that her sobs rarely went into full blown fits. That was reserved for when she was hungry, in pain, or merely in a temper. When she was upset because of something he’d done, she stuck with her tiny hiccups and quiet sniffles, turning her face into his shoulder if her pitiful struggles to be put down didn’t achieve anything.

Geralt sighed and shook his head, the first bite of that familiar guilt prickling his skin. He stared out across the river and turned, walking to the blanket. He sat down, Akela on his lap, and pat her tiny heaving back. “You can say it if you want,” he relented. “Say it, ‘Kela.” Akela lifted her head, cheeks wet with tears, and Geralt smoothed her blonde hair back. He pointed out across the river again. “What is it?”

She followed his finger and chewed on her own. She hesitated. “Fuck…”

Geralt smiled a little painfully. “Right.”

“Fuck!”

Like father, like daughter.

Witcher Masterpost

Random Jason Todd headcanons that I think about too much. Heavy on bookworm!Jason cause I love bookworm!Jason.

Calls you his backpack, when he gives you a ride on the back of his bike.

Lets you personalise his spare helmet, and does not care when his siblings/other passangers complain about having to wear whatever you've created with stickers and gemstones, or whatever you're into.

If there are two seats available, he’ll sit in one then put his feet up in the other, or otherwise occupy the second seat so you’re forced to sit in his lap. He doesn’t care how much you weigh; he just wants you as close as possible, wants to feel you against him, put his hands on you.

Even if they’re not his kind of book, he’ll still read and annotate your favourites.

He doesn’t really have guilty pleasures. He’ll happily binge watch 90s chick-flics, or barbie films without shame, if that’s what you’re into.

Buys you pill dispensers for your meds/vitamins/whatevers, and leaves you little reminders to take them along with other things like – ‘don’t forget to eat some protein today x’ or ‘if you’re gonna rot in front of the TV all day, OPEN A WINDOW ♡’

Will respond to your texts with the most out of pocket stuff that knocks you off your feet, some fun, some romantic, often book quotes.

23:58: Jay, when are you coming home. I miss kisses xx 00:04: Soon, you should be kissed and often, and by someone who knows how. Xx

02:03: You should be asleep, but in case you’re not, sleep well babe x 06:15: Good morning my heart, my life, my one and only thought x

17:45: What do you want to eat tonight? Xx 17:58: You xx 18:00: You can’t eat me, I’m not a substantial meal! x 18:06: Don’t talk bad about yourself like that xx 18:06: I ate you last night, I would eat you every night if I could xx 18:09: Your choices are pasta or take out x 18:16: 😔 18:18: Fine, you can eat me, but you have to have real food first x 18:18: I’ll pick up thai food on the way xx

Buys you gas station flowers, or candies, or books by your favourite authors, whenever he sees them, wherever he is, just cause they make him think of you.

Likes it when you massage his muscles, when you gently ghost your fingertips over his scars.

Loves it when you run your fingers through his hair, scratching your nails against his scalp and behind his ears.

When you pull his hair, oh boy. Pull his hair.

You’re hot when you’re angry. Not that he would ever intentionally try to wind you up.

You’re hot when you’re bossy too.

Complains when you steal his t-shirts and hoodies, but if he sees you deciding between one of his jackets and one of your own, and you don’t pick his, he’ll get mad about it.

You're one of very few people he lets wear the brown jacket, because he couldn't say no to you if he tried.

wolverine is absolutely not hip with the kids inspired by this post

HAPPY PRIDE MONTH 🌈💐👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩