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#asks from kids
gouinisme · 10 months
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batbabydamian · 3 months
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i saw your username in the corner of my eye and thought it said “fatbabydamian”.
THIS MADE ME BURST OUT LAUGHING 😭 i dedicated a csp file called fatbabydamian bc of you ty
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nerdpoe · 6 months
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Danny wakes up, strapped into a rollercoaster train car with a bunch of other civilians, in a dilapidated amusement park, with an insane clown laughing through the speakers.
He can see that the track is entirely broken, and that it will send them straight to the ground.
Danny knows he won't die.
Danny knows the civilians in the train car with him will.
So he slowly freezes the wheels until the car stops, a mere four feet from the edge, allowing the icy tendrils to snake down the support struts and reinforce them. His eyes are letting out a faint blue glow, his hands frosted over, and he isn't so much focusing on keeping the ice stable as he is focusing on getting it into the gears and ensuring that the train car can't be knocked off the track.
Now the civilians are feverishly whispering words of encouragement to him, to keep it up, while the local vigilante family fights the Joker.
Why, oh why, did he think that going on vacation in Gotham was a good idea?
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ruenii · 1 year
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Tim, [pointing his staff at the human traffickers]: YOU ARE OUTGUNNED
Jason, [hyping him up]: WHAT?
Tim: OUTMANNED!
Jason: WHAT?!
Tim: OUTNUMBERED OUTPLANNED
Jason: PAY YOUR FUCKING TAXES!
Tim: PUT YOUR GUNS DOWN ON MY COMMAND
Jason: HAND EM OVER!!
Tim: THIS IS HAMILTON MY RIGHT HAND MAN!
Jason, [getting his guns out]: PWO PWO PWO PWO PWO-
Goons: *shaking* what the FUCK are Batman feeding his partners--
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Had this Headcannon that when Multi-Lingual Dick and Jason get drunk they start singing Ballads in Spanish. Yeah some classical shit like Vicente Fernandez but also the most wild Selena you've ever heard.
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I’m really curious how you would draw the Five Missing Children.
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Technically I’ve drawn them! Only the movie versions though, sometime I’ll do the game ones too!
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celaenaeiln · 9 months
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JL: Nightwing! It’s a delight to see you! You should come by more often.
Nightwing: Thank you! I’m so sorry, work has been piling up on me but I’ll try to drop by the office party this Sunday.
JL: Ofcourse! Looking forward to seeing you there. By the way, is Batman coming late?
Nightwing: No, I’ll be filling in for him today.
JL: Did something happen?
Nightwing: Nothing much, he’s just grounded.
JL: ???
48 hours earlier
Dick: Bruce, I’m telling you now and we’ve had this conversation before but you need to build a better rapport with your children. They look up to you as a father figure and your actions influence their behavior.
Bruce: …hmrgh
Dick: And you might not be aware but you unconconscious behavior is damaging. Tim has picked up your terrible habit of constantly working in front of a screen-it’s going to strain his eyes. He’s always inside too, so you need to make him go outside more. I’m not always here, I have an entire city to run, the titans need me, I'm mentoring hundreds of heroes, the Justice League calls on me to help them, and I need to keep up with my social life. The people in Bludhaven where I teach and work also call me if I’m gone for a day-the point is-I can’t always be playing second parent here in Gotham.
Bruce: ……hmrgh
Dick: Damian always looks up to you
Bruce: *side eyes*
Dick: He does! See you don’t even realize it! He wants to make you proud and Jason gets mad when you don’t make time for him because he cares too. Stephanie doesn’t have a dad she can turn to and it would mean the world to her if you took her out to an amusement park or something. When was the last time you spent time with her.
Bruce: ….hmrgh
Dick: And-
1 hour later
Dick: -that’s why you need to stop working, go to them right now, and bond with them.
Bruce:
Dick:
Bruce: ……...hmrgh
Dick: I’m waiting.
Bruce: *dragging himself off the batcave chair and begrudgingly trudging upstairs under Dick’s watchful eye*
Bruce: *listening to the sounds of his kids in the living room and pumping himself up* Better relationships mean better teamwork. Better relationships mean better teamwork. Better relationships mean better teamwork. And Dick. Do it for him.
Bruce: *entering* *clearing his throat* Children. We will be going-
*The living room is in utter chaos. The cushions are strewn and ripped with stuffing coating the couches and floor which for some reason is stained yellow, the flower vase is shattered and so is the table it was sitting on, there’s string confetti on the chandelier, there’s spray paint and neon goo across the walls and in Tim’s hair, Jason has deep claw marks down his face as he wrestles with Damian who’s sporting massive bruise on his cheek and trying his hardest to bite him, Stephanie is dunking Tim’s face in a tub of soda which splashed everywhere while he’s ripping out Jason’s hair and also trying to kick Damian with his foot, the tv has massive spiderwebs and looping on tellatubies like a broken record machine, Titus is spitting out a feather while a random goose runs around honking while Alfred the cat chases after it at full speed, knocking down decades old paintings.*
Bruce:
Bruce:
Bruce:
Bruce: *rolling up his sleeves and stomping forward to join the fight* HMRGH.
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puppetmaster13u · 4 months
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Prompt 169
Danny is from a world where everyone has wings, even if most have long since lost the ability to fly. Something about loading and aspect ratio, wings being too small, body too heavy, now mostly used as display, whatever. 
It doesn’t matter even if he had blueprints from when he was like six of a jetpack to help fly. It won’t work anyway and hey, he has his ghost form! Which uh, might be perhaps, affecting his wings which were maybe sort of scorched black and practically down to the bone thanks to the accident. 
It doesn’t matter, he swears. Though he’s admittedly relieved to see the new feathers growing in are different from Dan’s angry sunset. Even if they’re not even supposed to be able to grow back. Alright, this is fine, no one is going to notice! It’s not like everyone knows about the poor Fenton kid whose wings were absolutely destroyed thanks to an accident! It’s fine. 
He’s not flying in a half-panic towards the Far Frozen while crying because his wings are coming back and he’s so scared. He didn’t panic and instantly fled the moment Jazz pointed them out while changing the bandages. 
He definitely didn’t trip over something while wiping away said tears and blacking out from all the stress and all of his problems that he definitely mentioned to someone and isn’t keeping a secret. Definitely. 
Hawkwoman and Hawkman would like everyone to know that neither of them were expecting a very small child to be spat out of the villain of that week’s machine that should definitely not be a portal. A very small child, maybe nine or ten, with a multitude of concerning wounds both old and fresh. Which isn’t even beginning to touch on the wings. 
Feathered, like baby down despite the gnarled scars, unlike their own metallic, with the beginning of tiny specklings like stars amidst the darker fuzz peeking from the wounded flesh. 
Who?! Who dared?! It’s (at least to the forever reincarnating duo) a literal baby! They still have down! Tiny baby fuzz! Was it the portal?! Oh this villain is going to taste their maces for causing this if that’s the case! 
The rest of the Justice League would honestly like to know what just happened and are honestly unsure on if they should stop the two…
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inkskinned · 9 months
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you were raised in comparison.
it wasn't always obvious (well. except for the times that it was), but you internalized it young. you had to eat what you didn't like, other people are going hungry, and you should be grateful. you had to suck it up and walk on the twisted ankle, it wasn't broken, you were just being a baby. you were never actually suffering, people obviously had it worse than you did.
you had a roof over your head - imagine! with the way you behaved, with how you talked back to your parents? you're lucky they didn't kick you out on your ass. they had friends who had to deal with that. hell, you have friends who had to deal with that. and how dare you imply your father isn't there for you - just because he doesn't ever actually talk to you and just because he's completely emotionally checked out of your life doesn't mean you're not fucking lucky. think about your cousins, who don't even get to speak to their dad. so what if yours has a mean streak; is aggressive and rude. at least you have a father to be rude to you.
you really think you're hurting? you were raised in a home! you had access to clean water! you never so much as came close to experiencing a real problem. sure, okay. you have this "mental illness" thing, but teenagers are always depressed, right. it's a phase, you'll move on with your life.
what do you mean you feel burnt out at work. what do you mean you mean you never "formed healthy coping mechanisms?" we raised you better than that. you were supposed to just shoulder through things. to hold yourself to high expectations. "burning out" is for people with real jobs and real stress. burnout is for people who have sick kids and people who have high-paying jobs and people who are actually experiencing something difficult. recently you almost cried because you couldn't find your fucking car keys. you just have lost your sense of gratitude, and honestly, we're kind of hurt. we tell you we love you, isn't that enough? if you want us to stick around, you need to be better about proving it. you need to shut up about how your mental health is ruined.
it could be worse! what if you were actually experiencing executive dysfunction. if you were really actually sick, would you even be able to look at things on the internet about it? you just spend too much time on webMD. you just like to freak yourself out and feel like you belong to something. you just like playing the victim. this is always how you have been - you've always been so fucking dramatic. you have no idea how good you have it - you're too fucking sensitive.
you were like, maybe too good of a kid. unwilling to make a real fuss. and the whole time - the little points, the little validations - they went unnoticed. it isn't that you were looking for love, specifically - more like you'd just wanted any one person to actually listen. that was all you'd really need. you just needed to be witnessed. it wasn't that you couldn't withstand the burden, but you did want to know that anyone was watching. these days, you are so accustomed to the idea of comparison - you don't even think you belong in your own communities. someone always fits better than you do. you're always the outlier. they made these places safe, and then you go in, and you are just not... quite the same way that would actually-fit.
you watch the little white ocean of your numbness lap at your ankles. the tide has been coming in for a while, you need to do something about it. what you want to do is take a nap. what you want to do is develop some kind of time machine - it's not like you want your life to stop, not completely, but it would really nice if you could just get everything to freeze, just for a little while, just until you're finished resting. but at least you're not the worst you've been. at least you have anything. you're so fucking lucky. do you have any concept of the amount of global suffering?
a little ant dies at the side of your kitchen sink. you look at its strange chitinous body and think - if you could just somehow convince yourself it is enough, it will finally be enough and you can be happy. no changes will have to be made. you just need to remember what you could lose. what is still precious to you.
you can't stop staring at the ant. you could be an ant instead of a person, that is how lucky you are. it's just - you didn't know the name of the ant, did you. it's just - ants spend their whole life working, and never complain. never pull the car over to weep.
it's just - when it died, it curled up into a tight little ball.
something kind of uncomfortable: you do that when you sleep.
#writeblr#warm up#my dad was actively doing bad shit to us and we STILL were told we were lucky . and to a point i do think im lucky#i just think also there's somethin to be said about like. how about we stop using comparison to dismiss ppls individual struggles#yes there are people who have no perspective. for the reference tho having perspective actually made me really unwilling to get help#for what was a serious and debilitating mental health issue. bc i thought i didnt DESERVE IT#and i would rather have 600 ppl who aren't THAT bad get help and get heard and get seen#than make any 1 kid. do the math that i did: look at the world that is dying and the people who are hurting and say#''oh. okay. others have it worse. they are probably better people than i am. i am being unreasonable. i cannot ask for help#i am not good. i am taking too much space. i am not worth saving.''#bc our WHOLE lives we are taught a scarcity mindset - that you can 'steal' from someone. so that instead of changing a system that doesn't#actually offer fair support to everyone#we put the impetus on the individual to just... demand less.#and here's something - there are probably ppl who think i DIDNT deserve to get help#bc i DID have it better than other people#and something about that is ... so sickening. bc i think all of us in some way at some point WILL need help.#we were supposed to make communities. we were supposed to offer our hands. we were supposed to raise the barn#instead we said: it could be worse. now handle it yourself
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redrobin-detective · 7 months
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Simon Petrikov really is the dad of all time.
Continuing my Adventure Time binge and I got to the Gunter/Orgalorg bits. Ice King took this horrible, cruel alien menace who's been seeking ultimate power for millennia and loved him, cuddled him, disciplined him (sometimes undeservedly) and overall sucked him into his deluded family unit. He did this for so long that when Gunter finally was given a chance for ultimate power -via the wishing crown - he chose instead to become Ice Thing. To become like his dad.
Simon dadded so hard that he turned two eldritch beings with capacity for immense destruction into daddies girls.
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scoupsofjisung · 2 months
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˚ ༘♡ ⋆。˚ texting bang chan happy father’s day (best dad of 7 kids fr)
🧸 paring: bang chan x f! reader
🧸 warnings: mentioned implied possible pregnancy as part of a joke, brushed past v quickly
🧸 author rambles: i’m just having fun at this point guys, and i have the most schoolgirl crush on chan thus my urge to flirt with him and threaten everyone and anyone for him. maybe surprisingly, gift giving is my lowest love language, however it’s an easy way to show u care fr. go pick a flower from outside and give it to someone u love asap 🫵
masterlist
blog info post!
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puppyeared · 10 months
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What did they do to you
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wispscribbles · 5 months
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I want to eat your art and writing thank you so much
Haha well I'm always happy to keep you all fed. Here, have some old sketches <33
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nerdpoe · 3 months
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Wes Weston's parents, concerned for their sons mental health, move to the Kansas countryside.
And after the first day there, he is absolutely convinced that the Kent's dear son who lives in Metropolis is Superman.
He helped them move in, and Wes clocked him in an instant.
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willowser · 5 days
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katsuki comes home from work one day to find you in his office, fooling around with his calendar, and you've made some little notes before and after his scheduled patrol shifts, as well as sticky'd some pink hearts on a handful of days a week for the upcoming months.
and he gets the absolute worst love chub when you beam and tell him you're mapping out your fertile windows.
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The Revenant Wife
Pairing: Joel Miller x Fem!Reader
Warnings: Mentions of grief and death. 
Summary: Ellie knows very little of Joel and even less of the wife he had before the outbreak. When she finally meets you, its just as much as shock to her as it is to your husband. 
Word count: 1.6k
Note: ficlet is based off of this previous post about Joel getting separated from his wife during the outbreak and assuming you died until you find one another years later. Reader is described to look like Sarah. Title came from the ever lovely @djarin-junk​ <3
Tagging those I think would enjoy: @pedrostories​ @thesadvampire​ @joel-mlller @softanon​ @max--phillips​ @captainsamwlsn​ @hooplahoopla​ @moondirti​ 
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Ellie didn’t know that Joel had a wife. 
Granted, she didn’t know much about his old life at all. 
She knew he built things. That he had a brother named Tommy and a daughter named Sarah, but didn’t like to talk about the latter that much. In one fleeting conversation, full of mumbles as her eyes began to close while they rested under the night sky she heard him mention you but was far too gone to truly hear what he said. Nothing more than the vague rumble of his voice saying “my wife” before her eyes opened once more. 
“You’re married?”
She asks with such incredulous shock it sounds more like “somebody married you?” but girls at her age hardly ever have filters. 
“I was.” 
There’s the same bristle in his throat and far off look in his eyes as when she first asked about his daughter. An open answer but one that carries enough unsaid to tell Ellie of your fate. To warn her that she should change the subject or simply shut her mouth and go to sleep before plucking his raw nerve one too many times until he snaps- 
“What was she like?” 
But Joel learned early on that Ellie wasn’t one to follow warnings. 
“Kind.” His breath stutters. “But not a pushover- she didn’t take shit from anybody.” He stares up at the sky, feeling his chest grow tight and fingers twitch by his side until there’s a rustling, the girl next to him rolling over to face him and he turns to find Ellie peeking out from her sleeping bag with a smile. 
Damn this girl. 
“Not even from you?” 
Joel scoffs. “Especially from me. The amount of times she gave me and Tommy and earful-” he shakes his head, Ellie watches a smile grow on his face in silence, as if worried she may frighten it away. 
“Did she cook?” 
Ellie thinks of the stories the older kids would tell her. The ones who remembered life before the Outbreak, who told her of freshly baked pies on weekend and fluffy pancakes in the morning. 
Joel remembers the first time you tried to bake him a cake for his birthday back when he was sixteen. How he opened the door to your forlorn face and a store bought sheet cake in your hands because as your mother told him over the phone, you damn near burned the whole house down trying to bake for him as a surprise. 
“From time to time.” 
There was only so much she could get out of him before his voice became clipped and eyes full of an emotion she didn’t quite know the name of that he told her to get some rest. Leaving her with nothing to do but to stare at the sky and wonder about these stories in the shape of a woman who unveiled a little bit more about the mysterious man she traveled with. 
Of all the silence and secrets that made up the man that protected her, she created stories to fill them. Stories of Joel Miller, husband, father, brother and badass contractor that everybody loved.   Of his soldier brother, of his wife and their smiling daughter between them both. 
In Ellie’s mind, you didn’t work. 
But not in a ditzy lame way like some boring housewife. But just because you didn’t have to. 
Joel said that everybody loved contractors so that means he probably got paid like, a ton of money to build stuff for people so you got to stay at home all day. Ellie imagined your house to be ginormous. Maybe Joel made it himself for you when you guys first got married. It was big enough that when Joel came home everyday he’d call out your name and it’d echo through  the hall as you called him into the kitchen, where your daughter sat reading as you set dinner on the table. Sometimes you’d get upset if he came home late but then he’d kiss your cheek and you would roll your eyes but smile before you all sat down and ate as a family. 
Ellie imagines Joel’s daughter, she wonders if Sarah looks more like her mother than her father. 
Ellie wonders as the sleep takes over her body, if they could have been friends. 
When it happens, months later after she’s come to think of Joel as something akin to family and he thinks of her as something he can’t say out loud just yet, she’s shocked. She’s face to face with a woman holding her at gunpoint that looks nothing like the smiling mother she dreamt of during cold nights. 
You don’t match the stories Ellie made up in your head.
You’re mean. 
No. Mean isn’t the right word. 
Cold. Yes. you're very cold. 
Ellie watches in shock as you ask where they're headed, gun focused on the center of her chest while the two boys at your side point their own at Joel, who has yet to speak. 
She waits for him to answer, but he just stares at you in awe. The same man she’s seen kill and threaten to keep her safe day in and day out is rendered speechless until all he can do is utter your name and she realizes that he knows you. More than that, judging by the way he surrenders his gun to you with no fight, something she had never seen him do. 
You lift your head to look at him, the brim of your hat raises just enough to clear the shadow cast over your face and Ellie can finally see your eyes and the snarl on your face. 
You’re also very pretty.
“I won’t ask again.” 
The two boys standing on either side of you have your eyes. Same color and intensity, narrowed into slits like guard dogs waiting for an order and Ellie sees the way Joel stares at them. 
She wonders if Sarah had brothers. 
“Out west.” He manages. “Takin’ her to her family.” 
Your eyes move to her and she holds her hands higher in the air. 
“That true?” “What?” 
“Is he telling the truth?” 
The taller one, Duke, she had heard you call him, had already ripped the bag from her back and emptied its contents onto the ground, she had nothing else to hide from you. 
But then she sees something in your eyes. A concern for her that she hadn’t seen since Tess or Marlene. 
And she understands. 
“He’s telling the truth.” Ellie forces out. 
You watch her for a moment and there’s a moment of panic where she thinks you can see right through her lie. 
But then you lower your gun and jerk your head over your shoulder. 
“C’mon.” is all you say before you begin to walk away. The boys gawk at you for a moment before you give them a look of warning and they follow in your step, occasionally casting glances behind them at Joel and Ellie who follow suit. 
She’s quick to grab onto the sleeve of Joel’s jacket and pull with a harsh whisper as the other’s march forward. 
“You know this psycho?” 
Joel flinches at her voice as it pitches up. If any of you heard her, which he gathered you did because Ellie didn’t have an inside voice to save her fucking life, you didn’t care enough to react. 
Ellie whispers his name again. Insistent and angry for answers but he just keeps looking forward. He can’t take his eyes off of you or the boys ahead and it fills her with worry but she doesn’t know why. 
“She’s my wife.”
You lead them to a cottage. Its paint is chipping and the fence is reinforced with wiring around the perimeter but it looks like a home. She can vaguely hear the soft clucking of chickens nearby and there's a flash of fur behind the fence with a pair of pointed ears that duck away just as fast as she saw them. 
Ellie has seen the remnants of homes before the outbreak. The plates still stacked in the sink and the jacket still hung up on the hook. A story telling a family that once lived within its walls and is now nothing more than memories that ghosts along its foundation. 
But this one is real. It’s yours. 
 There is a rickety wooden table in the dining room. Each chair around it seems to have been brought from a different house and is varying shades of faded brown. You kick the leg of one and nod toward it.“Sit, both of you.”
Ellie looks to Joel before sitting. He follows suit, choosing the chair closest to her. 
“I’m gonna get some bandages for that leg-” 
Joel shifts forward. “I don’t need-” 
“I wasn’t fucking asking, Joel.” 
You’re not stronger than Joel, if she had to guess. You both look the same age, but she’s seen his strength, his violence, all done for her safety and knows if it came down to it, you might not win in a fight against him. 
But at your order, he sits back in his chair. 
You turn and set a shoulder on your son’s shoulder. 
At least. She thinks he’s your son. 
Softly spoken words are exchanged while the other keeps his eyes on Joel and his hand on his holster. The boy says something back in insistence, but you tilt your head and he nods. 
“If either of them try moving or taking anything.” You offer them one final look over your shoulder before slipping out of the room. “Shoot them.” 
They listen to your footsteps slowly retreat until there’s nothing but the subtle creak and groan of the wood floor beneath them. Ellie leans forward to look at Joel, setting her hands firmly on the dinner table in announcement. 
“Dude-” The young girl breathes out. “Your wife is a bitch.”
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