#daughter Headcanons

[kamisama1kiss]

Hey! I know this will sound like, not something you would expect and I understand that, but could you do headcannons about Morro having a daughter?

I honestly was thinking about how he would be as a parent, but you can also do it if he was still hellbent on proving he is the green ninja and dying, leaving his daughter to live with Wu (bc he doesn't have anyone else).

Wu having to raise his (Pseudo?) Grand daughter and the challenges that come with it.

Maybe even Morro just, coming back on the Days of the departed to spend time with his daughter?

Whatever floats your boat tbh

Completely alright if you don't want to! Have a nice Friday 13th! (Or day, if you see this after that friday)

RAHHH I love Morro!! Also, short note sorry for being gone for so long. I've been needing a mental break from everything, but I'm getting better, which means I'll start writing again!! I love you all sm for the support even when I've been gone ����

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Morro's daughter {Ninjago Headcanons}

• Before turning into a ghost, he was the sweetest father to his precious little princess, who was his only light in life. (other than the idea of being the green ninja)

° Instead of spending much time together, he often put her to watch him train under Wu's supervision. Having both of their eyes on the younger child to make sure no harm could be inclifted.

• At some point, his focus fell from you, then more to the dream and goal about the green suit that he oh so wished to wear. Which meant the others at the monastery would take turns taking care of you.

° Feeling immense guilt for not spending time the more he mentally fell into a deep hole of self-destruction.

• Still occasionally reading you to sleep and giving small forehead kisses whenever he passed, tucking you in and just standing there feeling like a failure as both a father and to become the green ninja.

° One day was his last crack he ran away to show his worth in being the best version of himself, but sadly was unsuccessful and died in the process.

[After death]

° Cursing himself out every single waking minute for his mistakes of when he was alive, you cried many night after hearing the news and he made sure to watch over you even if no one could see nor feel him there.

• Seeing that the monks and Wu are taking care of you like their own, making he feel at ease. He trusted Wu with his blood and flesh until he could come back around.

° One time a year, morro was able to leave the real of the cursed and would spend the whole day with you when he was finally being seen.

• Spending the day playing little bored games or playing with dolls, having fun nonetheless, which is all he wished and wanted.

° Tucking you into bed that night and leaving a small note about how much he loves you every year and slowly covers the mirror in your bedroom.

• At some point, his daughter was able to understand how this all worked and looked forward to that one day every year. Giving him small artefacts to bring back to the realm where he stayed in the meanwhile.

° Let's be honest. Wu knows that morro is there even if not visible to the human (and non-human) eye.

~~~

Hello everyone, I'm super excited to be back at work!! Hope you all enjoyed reading the headcanons for today 🫶

[novaneondream]

Anyways what kind of music do you think Eri listens to

[dailyhatsune]

Miku comes out to her dad

memories of miku and mike at the pride parade

[lotus-lost-n-found]

Some Batfam Headcanons because the brain never stops;

Jason hates being called "Bruce's Son". But he hates it more when hes called "One of Wayne's Orphans/Wayne's child" because fuck you I'm his son-! wait no--

With the exception of Damian, they rarely refer to Bruce as "Dad/Father". Either it didn't occur to them/didn't see the need to/thought it would be strange. But when Dick/Jason/Tim/Cass are tired or injured it might slip out. And Bruce might just crumble a bit at it

Doesn't mean they don't say it to their siblings when Bruce is out of Earshot.

"Dad said you couldn't." "What do you mean Dad said I couldn't use that mug? It's my mug!" "You snooze you lose Timmy Boy-" "Jason don't be an asshole-"

That being said Bruce says "son/daughter/child" at every available opportunity he can after he knows that they have acclimated enough that they wouldn't be uncomfortable/know they can tell Bruce that they don't want to be called that.

First time Bruce called Dick "son" in a way that meant "You are my kid" and not in a "This police officer just called me son with a brow furrow" way Dick grinned and carried on with the conversation. Later he wondered if his dad wouldn't like someone else calling him Son; but Dick thinks about the life he was given because of Bruce and thinks maybe his dad wouldn't mind.

Calling Jason "son" is a hit or miss situation, even before he died. The first time it happened he was confused, he didnt think that was the relationship they had and it made everything change for him. He got frustrated--not angry--with himself and Bruce at this sudden emotional turmoil. Wasn't he just the kid Bruce picked up in an alleyway? Wasn't he just some street rat in bright Robin clothing? (He lets himself believe that he can be Bruce's son. If for only a little while).

Tim cries after Bruce is out of earshot, it would've been a year or so after his parents died and he was adopted. He didn't think he could have been wanted like that again. Even if you think the Drake's had A+ Parenting or not, I don't think he would have gotten a lot of confirmation of being wanted otherwise.

Cass smiles, emotions carefully concealed under her expression. She's grateful she found Bruce and he doesn't mention it if she leans a bit closer in a request for closeness.

Damian doesn't expect anything less, he only appears satisfied. But also relieved that he has gotten the confirmation that yes, Bruce wants and accepts him.

EDIT 10/11; hiii, i have added Duke, Steph & a Bonus in a reblog you can find on the same blog under my 'batfamily headcanons' / 'sore rambles' tag. have fun :)

[aroaceleovaldez]

Nico referring to his mom as "Mama" implies he most likely at least used to refer to Hades as "Papa" and i 100% headcanon he still does but mostly in the manner of him having the entire Underworld wrapped around his finger for being the baby of the family

[konigsblog]

farmer's daughter!reader and farmhand!könig.🌾🍒

synopsis; finally having sex with the loser that is obsessed with you.

tw/cw; afab!f!reader, loser!könig, inexperienced (but not virgin)!könig, top!könig, mentions of panty stealing. MDNI 18+

könig is ashamed to admit the truth about himself, but he's in fact not that experienced as he claims to be. he avoids the topic like the plague, getting off using a freshly clean pair of panties that he found on the washing line left to dry.

your parents would be gone for a couple of hours as they were down in the village, leaving both you and könig all alone. god, könig couldn't ignore the opportunity in front of him, he had to do it. you were sat in your bedroom, catching up on a new book you were interested in before könig pulled your door open suddenly, catching you with your hands between your supple thighs, rubbing at your sticky clit and getting off to the porn material in the book.

your eyes were wide with shock, while könig's were wide with desperation and pleasure. it didn't take a lot of convincing before you were naked and bare, excited to feel what könig had to offer. you knew he'd be big, but fuck, you didn't expect him to the so girthy as well. each inch pushed into your swollen folds left your voice cracking and breaking, your eyes wide at the burning stretch and ache between your soft thighs, with könig rubbing at your clit to stimulate pleasure.

he couldn't hurt the farmer's daughter or be caught doing something so depraved. your father would absolutely slaughter könig if he found out what you two were getting up to.

“fuck, schatzi— relax, take it all, sonnenschein, please. i need it all, to see your pretty pussy swallowing my large, fat cock.”

although all concerns and worries were pushed out of your head when könig began to hit that sweet spot again and again until you were sobbing and weeping, your body trembling with arousal and euphoria and your aroused cunny drooling around his length. your gummy and velvety walls pulsed and clutched onto his veiny shaft, his tip weeping against your cervix while your walls spammed around him uncontrollably, coating him in your slickness.

könig had to make a run for it after stuffing his favourite girl's pussy full with his creamy stickiness, jumping out of your bedroom window to avoid a conversation with your father while you threw your clothes back on, a secret kept between you two.

[demigoddaughterofhermes]

i actually really like that hades immediately believes percy about kronos- in the books it was treated as this impossible thing and i think hades being so ready to believe that is actually believable considering where he lives. and also considering the personality we see from hades in the books

[0booboozefool0]

This might be the most self indulgent thing I’ve ever drawn

[sabertoothwalrus]

I like this monster tidbit from Shapeshifters for its darkly dramatic irony

funny you say that, senshi! cause chuck’s succubus ended up being this:

while senshi saw………..

[demigods-posts]

headcanon that when estelle is old enough. percy and annabeth take her trick or treating. and estelle dresses up in the loudest colors she can find. and claims she an international super spy. and percy and annabeth accompany her while wearing tuxedos. claiming that their her bodyguards.

[that-disabled-princess]

I've seen Nimona say "get a room" a lot in reference to goldenheart PDA in front of her, but may I raise you:

Nimona actually doesn't care. "I'm 1000 years old, Golden Groin, you think I haven't seen things? If you two want to fuck in front of me, be my guest."

Bal and Ambrosius have never gotten a room faster.

[tamanegi-san]

Read the panels right to left from here because yes

I saw the recent omake and remembered this saying where vampires couldn't see themselves in mirrors, so I applied that to these two cuz why not 😎✨

[shyjusticewarrior]

Bruce got confused and chose thot son and gay daughter

[jm-chrome]

Someone needs to sedate me before I doodle any more of Viktor being the sweetest big brother to baby Orianna...

[eternallyhauntingthehouseoflove]

Hey, i read the “Bat-boys finding out your pregnant” and may i ask for more? It was sooo cute that i need more of it 😭💕

The Batboys fathers HCs

A/N: this request is long overdue that I’m sure the requester doesn’t even remember it, but I’ve arrived at last. I hope this is what they wanted. The Absolute Power run has restored my love for Nightwing and comics. ❣️

Dick Grayson is a fun dad. At first, Dick suffocated beneath the weight of fatherly duties. He wanted to be better than Bruce. Dick loved him, but he could admit that his boyhood wasn’t a salubrious environment for the young mind. No child should have to carry the weight of Bruce’s mission. Thus, Dick’s mission became ensuring yours and the baby’s lives were secure, safe, and joyous.

Pale beams of sunlight kissed your cheeks good morning. The aroma of maple syrup wafted throughout the house, tickling your nostrils as you carried yourself down the stair steps, footfall by footfall. There Dick stood at the stove, scooting the black spatula beneath a golden pancake and flipping it into the air, causing your baby to burst out into a fit of giggles before the pancake hit the skillet with a sizzle. He was proud of himself for making his baby laugh.

“Well, well, look at mama.” A grin crept across his lips as he spotted you creeping closer, supernovas bursting in his electric blue irises.” You were snoring in a pool of drool when I awoke, so I grabbed the baby and started breakfast.” Vibrant seas of pacifiers, rattles, and toy pianos adorned the house.

Dick attempted to rush the developmental process. Not out of callousness, but sheer excitement to have a child. He had already stocked the baby in dolls, trucks, pacifiers, fruit snacks, apple juice (watered down, of course). He even installed a nightlight that short circuited the house at first, but Bruce helped him fix it. Reading is good for the baby right? Dick is on it. He’s already ordered the best and most classic tales; Snow White and the Seven Dwarves, Alice in Wonderland, Dr. Seuss, Little Red Riding Hood.

Dick Grayson has read multiple novels on fatherhood, motherhood, child development, postpartum depression. He hates surprises, and babies are the breeding ground of surprises. He will pack the go-bag full of onesies, pacifiers, diapers, wipes, toys because he doesn’t want you to be in public and not have the materials.

“Give me a few days to install the new changing table. You’ll love it.” Crimson blush adorned his tanned cheeks, a proud grin dawning on his lips, showcasing his pearlescent teeth.” It broke when I weight checked it, thank god. Damian, albeit reluctantly, is coming out here tomorrow to translate the instructions.”

Jason Todd is the protective, paranoid father because he’d placed a bullet in the worst humanity had to offer, witnessed otherworldly horrors done to the little guys, the folks who lack billions of dollars to hole up on secluded islands and cabins. He can’t eradicate all the scum, can’t caulk the fractures villains seem to keep slipping through—and that terrifies him.

Jason never imagined a life worth living to be possible. He’d thought himself a sentient zombie, an unlucky boy yanked from the eternal peace of a cold, soundless grave and forced to enact vengeance on behalf of the common folk who lack the means to undertake the mission themselves. He never considered Red Hood to be a hero; merely a restless phantom with nothing else to bide his time until the sweet release of the afterlife deigned to shatter his manacles to the mortal world. That was until he’d fallen over the sun, offering endless devotion to his goddess, and you’d rewarded his offering with a daughter, a lovely girl. He’d abduct the moon and wrap it in a silken bow if only you’d give him permission.

“Catch, papa,” your daughter had called out, retrieving the little football and sprinting toward him, tiny feet carrying her over the damp and verdant grass of y’all’s backyard. Jason never brought the both of you to parks—an excess of people to watch, different personalities and behaviors; a myriad of possibilities for tragedy. Too much room for error in a vast, leafy expanse.

“You’ve gotta bring it to me first,” Jason called back, outstretching his muscular arms, awaiting her arrival. He was paranoid and distrustful of the world, not a killjoy. Y’all’s daughter’s bedroom was littered with vivid nail polishes, fluffy scarves, glittering tiaras, and Monster High dolls. Your daughter had always adored Frankie Stein and Frankenstein because they reminded her of Jason and herself, the dolls and humans both sharing pale white streaks of hair. He hadn’t known whether to laugh or weep upon hearing those words from her lips, innocent and completely unaware of the accuracies spanning far past hair color.

“Jason, I love you, but we are not cooping ourselves up in the house this summer.” The words were firm and unyielding—but lacking any true bite.

“ I’ve given you grace. I let a lot slide because I understand your background. But we’re just not doing it this summer. Its too hot to not go to waterparks and enjoy ourselves because of possibilities.” A damn good point rested upon your tongue, and he knew it.

“Fine.” He relented with a jocosely petulant huff.” But we take a gun with us.”

Tim Drake is an ambitious father. It’s been said before, but I don’t believe he’s as active as the fandom would believe. Though, his absence isn’t born of malice or indifference, but ambition, a thirst for a legacy. He wants to be a man his significant other and child can be proud of, a father worth bragging about. There’s also a large chamber seated within his mind that knows not how to be a father, for his parents were cold, choosing to throw dollars at his gripes and needs rather than be present.

One of his greatest fears is disappointing the both of you, like he was disappointed by his own parents, so disappointed he couldn’t even despise them. Tragically, the mission to avoid history’s repetition had placed him before a mirror, his parents gazing back at him, a smug smirk curled on their lips because they know that he’ll be on their end of the glass within a few decades.

Can he be blamed? Tim wants the absolute best for his family. The best grades, the best schools, the best scores, the best scholarships. He’s not naïve enough like Dick to believe hard work and persevere can lift a nobody anywhere. There are no bootstraps to be pulled taut. It’s an illusion, a sauce wealthy people spoon over their meals to disguise the taste of nepotism and privilege. Manipulations the rich regurgitate to excuse themselves from having to acknowledge the unfair, biased system they’ve upheld.

The door to his limousine slammed closed, his child seated beside but, but farther than ever. What could be said? Jerking forward, the limousine rolled into drive, coasting beneath autumn streaked clouds, as though her father had gifted her the sky from a florist. Bruce hadn’t prepared Tim for the teenaged terror years. He couldn’t help but wonder if he himself had been this capricious and fickle as a teen, or if he were merely that bad of a father.

“Do. . . do you want a Milkshake? From that one place by the house, like we used to when you were young.” Tim couldn’t help but raise a hopeful raven shaded brow. He could smell the stench of sweat, an anxious perspiration, cleaving to your school uniform. It must’ve been a test day.” I’ll clear the rest of my schedule for us. . . if you want, of course.” He extended an olive branch, granting her the choice to engage and accept, or set the course for the rest her teenage years.

Damian Wayne does not want children. He doesn’t know how far his taint would bleed, and all he can envision are the ways he could disgrace the mind of a child. His village was rotten and evil. Bad fruits bear worse seeds.

Damian’s devotion was love, the purest kind he knew, a primal desire to protect and cherish that of which he adored. You forged suns in his heart, set the butterflies in his belly aflutter. Beneath a weeping of sheet of violet sky, the both of you had sworn to love the other until Earth imploded—and when it did, he would find you in another universe.

He doesn’t hate children. In fact, he would be a decent babysitter for Dick and Jason, and whenever Tim deigned to grace the BatCave with his presence. But, Damian is staunch in his childfree attitude, and you respect it. Truthfully, you weren’t even sure you wanted kids. No, you and Damian battled crime, traveled the world and experienced culture, learned histories outside of the filth pumped into his mind by the Al Ghuls. Bruce was saddened by Damian’s decision against children, but he ultimately respected it—and him.

Damian knew he was poisoned and rotten and always would be, no matter what emblem was sewn over his breast. He was content with the life the both of you had, and knowing Dick, many more children are to come, so he’d never get lonely.” Beloved, what do you make of Italy? Not the tourist parts where the history is washed, but the ripe lands.”

Bruce Wayne is a weary father. He knew the birth of his youngest child was redemption, his last chance at preserving the Wayne name since Damian had sworn off children. But Bruce was aged, hardened, jaded, weary. He had scars to last a lifetime, some worn on his heart, though majority were worn on his skin.

The Wayne brownstone was eerily silent since Alfred’s death. Bruce’s son sat around the oaken table, coloring a picture of Superman, Wonder Woman, Batman, and Alfred. Bruce’s heavy lids fell over exhausted, dim blue irises, his brain flitting back to the memories of Alfred, gathered at the stove and learning a recipe. I am. . . old, Master Bruce. My time on this earth is not infinite. You must learn more than the ways of fists, the words echoed in his mind. Reminding him that old age wasn’t even the murderer of Alfred Pennyworth.

He fetched an inhale before pulling himself off of the couch, and padding over toward his son at the dinner table.” What’s that? Oh, a pretty picture. A real artistic talent, like Damian.” Bruce was unsure of his fathering more often than not. He knew how it appeared to his son’s school counselors and the principal—old, washed up playboy Bruce Wayne saddled with another young son. That was far from the case, but the masses will believe anything when they’re given nothing.

Bruce fetched a pot and skillet from the creaking cabinets of the brownstone, far from the elegance and cleanliness of the manor. Alfred would’ve been mortified to see the mess, he almost chuckled, but withheld it. Lest his son raise a question, for the explanation would be too complicated and long-winded for his young mind.” So, what do you see for dinner tonight? What makes that belly growl like a lion? Mac and Cheese? Lasagna? Hamburger Helper?”

Bruce knew exactly what his son would choose. Asking was merely a courtesy. Bruce knew him, raised the boy from the minute he was weaned. He knew what his son would do before his son knew what he himself would do. The Batman wasn’t a slacker, wasn’t lazy.

[demigoddaughterofhermes]

percy jackson, who after having his memories stolen, lives in fear of forgetting things.

he never has- he always remembers birthdays and anniversaries. he knows the activity schedule at camp like the back of his hand. he always sees annabeth's favorite color and thinks of her.

but he's always afraid that it could happen. or that someone will take them away again. so he has sticky notes everywhere. he always has little scribbles on his arms and hands. he keeps a little notebook handy.

annabeth never teases him when he asks her to confirm that he remembers.