#this is my best headcanon

[dimension-420]

the pilot program is on a spotify family plan btw.

[ahfrickenfrick]

nightwing being hurt in the field, and over comms he can’t get out what was wrong, nearly in shock, and jason puts on his best batman™️ voice and says “robin, report.”

and it snaps dick out of it enough to say concussion, possible broken ribs, and a gash in his side.

no one talks about it, and then a year later, damian does the same thing to tim

[bereft-of-frogs]

There’s that post that’s like ‘everyone should get into a tiny niche fandom at least once’ fully agree, that was really fun -- but I would like to add that everyone should get into a fandom where their opinions run counter to major fanon because it really teaches you about sticking to your guns and trusting your interpretation of the text without having to rely on peer validation

because WHAT are people talking about sometimes

[novaneondream]

Anyways what kind of music do you think Eri listens to

[funkyposs]

quirky teenagers

[raticalshoez]

I miss Team BEST and their dysfunctional swag

[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

[ohmygraves]

ghost who eloped with his spouse, who moved into a small house for about a month before he had to fly out on a missions outside of england. hell, the place was pretty bare and he couldn't even manage to put in some nice furniture before price told him to get his arse into a plane to russia for a five month long mission. didn't even get to enjoy some honeymoon before his job fucked him over.

safe to say, he hadn't established a routine at his new home yet ever since he moved out of his barracks room at the base. he was only at home for a little while, it only makes sense that he doesn't know where everything goes sometimes. and of course, he somehow misplaced himself.

at the end of the deployment, he was too tired to even care. his eyes were so heavy and tired that he made his way back to his old barracks room, kicking the door down and throwing his bags to the side (and scaring poor soap who was asleep on the bed, since of course he's the one who took ghost's old room back at the base).

his eyes met the scot, a little confused as to why he sees someone on his bed.

"whit the hell!? lt!? did the missus kick ye out?" soap groaned, scared shitless as he tries to calm his heart.

the question took him off guard, and he stood by the doorway quietly, just processing it.

"... i have a spouse."

"ye eedjit." soap shook his head, telling him to leave soon or else an angry spouse will buzz off his mohawk.

poor ghost, rushed out of the base in the middle of the night trying to get back home. he's got a lot of apologizing to do. hopefully his spouse was asleep and didn't realize that he practically drove twice over the speed limit and possibly ran over someone just to get to his spouse's arms.

[fanfic-writer-and-rambler]

How the Wayne family handles injuries sometimes

Bruce: My arm feels weird.

Clark: It's broken!

Bruce: Oh is it?

Clark, using x ray vision: I can see the bone snapped in half.

Bruce: Oh, that's why I winced earlier.

Clark: What the hell?

...

Nightwing: Okay, I can fall down now.

Nightwing falls to the ground.

Wally: Oh my god!

Nightwing, unphased: I'm fine, they didn't break my hip too bad... I just can't stand for an hour or two. Can you carry me?!

Wally: Okay this was in a dream I had.

...

Damien: Hello Jon.

Jon: Hey pal- You hand is bleeding.

Damien: I got stabbed in the hand. I must've done the stitching wrong.

Jon: You sewed your wound?

Damien: Yes, probably missed a stitch.

Jon: ... Awesome!

...

Tim: Hey, question is the wall over there purple or blue?

Bernard: That wall is white.

Tim: I'm going color blind again, be right back.

Bernard: I should look into that, but... he fixed it last time.

...

Roy: There's an arrow in your arm!

Jason: Ah shit, yeah it is.

Jason yanks it out with ease.

Jason: You can keep this.

Roy: How strong is your pain tolerance?

Jason: I died once so... super strong. I am numb to the pain... sometimes it feels good.

Roy: Why have I heard... all of you say that?

[upon-the-snow]

early mornings after nightmares

[flwrstqr]

୧ ‧ ENHYPEN HYUNG LINE REACTION WHEN YOU KISS THE SAME SPOT OVER AND OVER AGAIN ׁ

PREC𝓲S ✦ 엔하이픈 형선 x f!reader ‎ ୨୧ 783wc. ᰍ 𝅄 ׁ ˳ fluff, headcanons && cw. kissing, petnames, skinship.˙⠀⋆ ۟⠀｡♡

`. ( MY ARCHiVE ) iF ENJOYED PLEASE REBLOG !! — CLICK

𝐋𝐄𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆 you press soft kisses to the same spot on heeseung's jaw, over and over again, making him chuckle, “baby, what’s so special about that spot?” he teases, tilting his head slightly. “i just like it,” you mumble against his skin, smiling. he lets out a soft hum, hand gently wrapping around your waist as he leans in closer, “what about the lips? don’t they deserve some love too?” he asks, his voice soft and teasing. you roll your eyes playfully but lean in to press a kiss to his lips, “happy now?” you grin, and he smirks, “much better, baby.”

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐉𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐒𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐆 jay’s eyes widen in surprise as you kiss the same spot on his cheek over and over again. “what are you doing, angel?” he asks, his voice playful as he tilts his head slightly, letting you have your way. you just smile, planting another kiss on that same spot, “just love this spot, that’s all.” he chuckles, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you closer, “well, i guess i can’t complain, can i?” he murmurs, closing his eyes and leaning into your kisses, the warmth of his skin against your lips making your heart flutter.

𝐒𝐈𝐌 𝐉𝐀𝐄𝐘𝐔𝐍 jake laughs softly as you kiss the same spot on his jawline over and over again, each kiss making his smile grow wider. his hand resting gently on your waist. you pull back after a few more kisses, pouting slightly, “my lips hurt now.” he chuckles, tilting his head to meet your eyes, “aw, poor baby.” but then, with a mischievous glint in his eyes, he leans in closer, brushing his nose against yours, “but… can you continue? just a few more?” he whispers, as he gives you that irresistible, boyish grin. you can’t help but laugh, nodding as you lean in to give him one more kiss, “okay, but only because you’re too cute to say no to.”

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐍 "y/n, what are you doing?" sunghoon chuckles, trying to suppress a smile as you kiss the same spot on his jaw repeatedly. "why do you keep kissing me there, hmm?" he teases, tilting his head slightly to give you more access, even though he’s pretending to be annoyed. "i can’t help it, baby, it’s my favorite spot," you murmur against his skin, your lips brushing softly. "you’re gonna drive me crazy, you know that?" he says, but there’s no real frustration in his voice. instead, he pulls you closer, his arms wrapping around your waist

[demigods-posts]

i need a scene in season two when percy and annabeth go to save grover. and before the fight commences. percy and annabeth pause to tell him that they genuinely think he looks so pretty in that dress. and grover thanks them and tells them to focus on keeping him alive or he'll wear this dress to his funeral.

[wilteddreamsofbaldursgate]

Overindulgent father Astarion who tells his children they’re allergic to any kind of jewellery that isn’t made of the highest grade Dwarven crafted gold. 

It’s not even because Astarion might have a certain aversion to silver, no, he just raises his children to have standards, thank you very much. 

And it doesn’t end with shiny things, oh no… 

The Ancunín brood is known to be dressed in perfectly woven cotton, silk and soft leather clothes, no matter the occasion.

They’re seen playing with expensive toys, reading artfully illustrated books that certainly belong behind thick glass, not in children’s sticky hands. 

There’s even talk that one of the children is not as naturally inclined to music as his parents claim him to be, surely his lyre must be enchanted—the instrument certainly looks extravagant enough! 

And then there’s always this air of effortless haughtiness surrounding the Ancunín children whenever their nannies and servants are parading them through town as if they were perfect little dolls; objects to show off the wealth their parents acquired in quite the mysterious ways. 

So, it’s no secret that Astarion and Tav are pampering their children—some might say they’re even spoiling them rotten. 

And maybe they are, especially Astarion.

But he doesn’t see why he should raise them any other way, nor does he want to.  

When it comes to his children, Astarion has his own standards, and as long as Tav agrees with him nothing really matters. 

Because, these people, they don’t know anything about the Ancuníns. 

They don’t know that it’s not unusual for Astarion to wash out dirt and mud and strawberry stains from comically small finery, leaving behind only the memories of a day spent playing in the garden, chasing after ducks, picking flowers, lazing in the sun…

That any holes and tears the children’s clothes might suffer are quickly mended, making them look as good as new in no time. 

Nor do they know that Astarion doesn’t mind fashioning a brand new dress to match that of a favourite doll, either. Or to embroider a pretty vest with the likeness of that stray cat the children seem to adore, although their father would rather they don’t touch the mangy animal. 

No, those people know nothing at all...

“Not tired!” Astarion’s youngest cries; the vehement denial of her father’s earlier accusation is cut short by a telltale yawn.

The room still smells of fragrant lavender oil and peaches even when the bath water has already grown tepid, just one or two degrees above what Astarion would consider too cold to be enjoyable. 

Amused, he raises an eyebrow at the protesting toddler before he lifts her out of the copper bathtub with little effort. 

By now, he knows every step of this game.

“Tut-tut, my dear child, what did mama and I say?” Astarion kneels, quickly wrapping a soft towel around the child to keep her warm. “We only tell lies outside of this house.”

Unfazed by her father’s gentle scolding, the girl crosses her arms that haven’t yet lost their puppy fat across her chest, reminding Astarion a little too much of a very displeased Tav. 

Suppressing a sigh, he leans back to consider the pouting child, wondering what could possibly be upsetting her this time—the list is growing longer by the day, after all. 

“What’s the matter, dear?” Astarion asks gently, hoping it’s something easily fixable as it’s growing rather late. 

“Want apple!”

Decades ago, Astarion might’ve rolled his eyes—he knows exactly which stupid apple the child wants, it’s been haunting him all day—but once he started to treat his children’s problems as if they were his own, his life has grown somewhat easier. 

“Why, let’s get an apple on our way to bed, then. Would that be alright, Your Highness?” 

The girl promptly nods her head, allowing Astarion to pat her hair dry before dressing her in a clean night dress. 

She rests her cheek against her father’s shoulder as he carries her first to the kitchen to grab a fragrant apple and a knife, then to her bedroom where they settle on the cosy window seat, just like they do every night.

Soft moonlight is pouring through the windows; the child giggles at the way the knife’s blade is catching the silver light as Astarion peels and cuts the apple into even pieces.

“Here you go,” he finally says, giving the slice of apple one last examining look before surrendering it to the impatient little hands reaching for it. “A sweet treat for my little sweet. Doesn’t it taste so much better when we don’t eat it off the floor, darling?” And when it’s not crawling with ants…

The appeased toddler nibbles at the juicy fruit as Astarion carefully combs through her still-damp curls. 

Her hair’s getting long, he notices, knowing that taking care of it will become more time-consuming each day. 

Once, Astarion would’ve thought this task tedious, brushing out hair that’s not his own, oiling and braiding it for no other reason than knowing his children enjoy him doing it. 

But that’s why he loves doing it in the first place, he supposes.

Astarion can tell by his toddler’s heartbeat that sleep is about to claim her. 

The half-eaten slice of apple is still clutched in her little fist as he cradles the child to his chest, slowly rising from the window seat to put her to bed. 

He’s just about to lay the child down that the fruit drops to the floor, his daughter’s tiny hand clutching at his shirt instead.

“Thank you, papa,” she mumbles, more asleep than awake.

Astarion pauses.

He breathes in the clean, yet unique scent of the little girl that is forever engraved in his brain, the same way he knows under which exact constellation she was born. When she took her first steps, what her first word was. Soon, he will have to memorise her favourite colour, and what she likes to eat when dirty apples won’t be that appealing anymore. 

By now, Astarion knows this game by heart, knows that with every year that passes, he has something new to learn about his children.

And sometimes he wonders what it’s like to grow up with clean bed sheets and full bellies. Sleep filled with naught but warmth and happy memories. Ever open doors and tears that are dried by tender kisses. Living in a house where mistakes and anger are welcomed, safe. 

He wonders what it’s like for his children to know that their father’s love comes without conditions. Not now and not ever. 

Sitting down on the bed, Astarion holds his youngest a little closer to his chest, unwilling to let go of her, yet. 

He’s often accused of spoiling his children when most people can only just grasp the very surface of his love for them, the bare minimum of what he feels for his one and only, precious family. 

These baseless accusations are as unimportant to Astarion as the people voicing them.

He’s raising his children to have standards, wants them to take their father’s love for granted, to accept nothing less but pure devotion.

It’s the only way Astarion knows how to love them, the only way that comes most naturally to him. 

Astarion looks down at his little girl, now fast asleep, a gentle smile tugging at her lips. 

After all these years—all these children—he’s still in awe watching them sleep in his arms as if no harm in the world could ever befall them.

And it won’t—not if Astarion can help it. 

“No, thank you, my heart,” he whispers, pressing a kiss against the crown of the toddler’s head. 

When it comes to his children, Astarion holds himself to the highest standard.

[thecomfywriter]

one day, someone is going to simp for my favourite oc harder than me, and i will no longer be a one-woman act in this fanclub

[ewwww-what]

The moment when you find exactly what you were looking for (it was your best friend the whole time)

(close-ups below & my commission info)

[cable-salamder]

Pro gamer move: transfem Pixal saved me from artblock (this is basically me drawing my own interpretation of Pixal from this post’s tags)