What Was Considered Peak Masculinity Back In The 2000s Is Now Considered As Little Meow Meow Energy In

What was considered peak masculinity back in the 2000s is now considered as little meow meow energy in 2024

This clearly shows how far we've progressed and become even more improved versions of ourselves.

As for this godly man, he's still as fiery and yet so sweet even two decades later, if not more, as he was all those years ago.

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.

Geralt of Rivia x Child!Reader

Geralt of Rivia x Child!Reader

Part1

Masterlist

Summary: What happens when a certain witcher save you from an awful future to become a slave for the Nifgaard realm? Follow the journey of you and the white-haired witcher adventures,  blossoming a beautiful relationship between father and daughter. (Yeah… I know that the summary is bad 😂 Sorry)

Warnings: Angst, a little bit of blood

Words: 1,600

A/n: So, i notice that isn´t many fanfics of Geralt being a cute dad so i thought of doing one! The reader is 5 years old. I might do a part 2 to this.

Screams. That´s all you could hear around you. Tears were running down your soft cheeks freely as you see the destruction around yourself. Seeing houses being burnt to the ground, men being slaughter and women trying to comfort their children before the black ones could kill them.  

Kneeling down, you put your small hands on the cold body before you. “M..Mommy?…Mommy wake up…” your voice comes out tiny as you try to shake your mother´s corpse, your vision was becoming more and more blurry by the fat tears running out of your big e/c eyes. “P..Please Mommy!” you stutter quietly, your lower lip trembling from fear and heartbreak.  

Suddenly a strong hand grabs your h/c hair and pull you forcibly, making you scream in pain. “What do we have here? A little pig?” one of the soldiers that were attacking your village said with an evil laugh.  

You put your small hands on his and try to kick him away from you, pleading from him to let you go but that only made them laugh even more. One of the soldiers went to you grab your soaked cheeks tightly, forcing you to look to his wicked eyes. “You would do a perfect slave…maybe when you´re older, you could bring some pleasure to us,” he said with a disgusting smirk on his rough lips. The other two men agreed but the fourth man didn´t say anything, only stay there with a painful look on his pale face. You notice blood running down his mouth and small gasp leaving his mouth. Of a sudden the man falls down to the floor and a large figure stood behind him, with a bloody sword on his hand.  

“What the fuck!” the man that was holding whisper as he saw the golden eyes of the stranger glowing in the dark, glaring dangerously to the three men.  

The other two men run to the golden eye man, clashing their swords with his but they were not good as the large man, who kill them with one single blow, cutting their heads with his shining sword.  

Your eyes shut close as a wave of blood cover your tiny body, making you gasp as you feel the warm red liquid on your s/c skin.  

The man that was holding your hair, screamed and throw you to the hard ground. You fell on the floor with a hard crash and your breath got caught on your throat a little. The soldier starts running away, screaming ´mutant´ but his alarmed voice was changed by a gurgling squeal as the golden eye man throws his sword, piercing his throat.  

You stay still on the cold floor, curl in a small ball beside your mother. Sobbing into your mother’s cold neck.  

After a while, you feel a warm hand stroking gently your back. Lifting slowly your head, your teary eyes met golden ones, full of concern. “Are you okay, child?” his rich deep voice envelopes you in warmth and safeness.  

You nod slowly and look down, pointing to the corpse beside you. “Mommy doesn´t wake up!” you sob quietly. The stranger lets out a sigh and nods, putting his warm hand on your bloody cheeks, cleaning some of it. “I´m sorry little one… I think its better for you to go with the rest of refugees…” he said while looking back, seeing some women and men running out of the village with children and small babies. You shook your small head and whimper as you see them looking at you, waiting to come to them.  

The strange man pats your head and stood up. “Stay safe, child,” he said while walking towards his horse, leaving you alone and scared, taking all the safeness with him.  

Looking to the people waiting for you and then to the stranger’s back, you stood up and run as fast your little legs could.  

The golden eye man stops as he feels your tiny hand grab his. Looking down, he sees your sad chubby face staring to him, tears running down your soft cheeks. “P..Please…don´t leave me!” you desperate grab his large hand, trying to make him stay.  

He stays looking down at you with a serious face, thinking of what to do. After a while, he lets out a defeated sigh and nods. “Okay… but I will only take you to the nearest town, where is safe for you,” he said while picking you up and putting you on his horse´s back. Then he climbs up, sitting behind you. His strong arms wrap around you as he takes hold of the reins and orders his horse to move, taking you away from the vast chaos and death. 

                                                    /// \\ 

It´s been a month and you still have a long way until you arrive at the nearest town. In all your time with Geralt, you got to know each other. To your surprise, the large man was a witcher who shocks you since he was so gentle and protective with you.  

You have heard stories about his kind, your mother used to tell as a bedtime story. Telling the brave tales from the monsters’ hunters.  

“I´m bored…” you said while sitting beside the small campfire, pouting. “Hi bored. I’m Geralt.” he said with a smirk on his face, making you huff in annoyance. “Can I go play in the river?” you asked with hopeful eyes.  

Since you two stopped to make a camp, the lovely calm waters from the river on the other side of the road grabbed your attention. All you wanted to do was to jump to the beautiful blue water and swim around.  

“No.” that was his answer which made your hope die out. You roll your eyes and huff, hitting with your tiny foot on the muddy ground. “Why not?” you asked, glaring to him.  

Geralt stops polishing his sword and looks to you with one of his silver brows lifted. “Because I said so. Now, why don´t you rest a bit?” he said while posing his sword beside him and resting his back against the tree, closing his eyes.  

You murmured something under your breath and lie down beside the warm fire, watching the flames dance with each other.

After some time, you hear a soft snore coming from Geralt. Standing up, you saw him fast asleep. Smirking gently, you tiptoe to the river, careful not to step in some dry leaves.  

As you reach the bank of the river, the fresh air hits your small face. Grinning widely, you took off your shoes and put your tiny feet on the cold water, giggling as you feel the soft sand on your toes. Looking up, you saw the sun going down and the stars starting appearing on the twilight sky.  

As you were entertained playing on the water, you didn’t notice the horrendous creature swimming in your way. His hungry eyes fixed on your small figure, waiting for you to let down your guard. As you were about to pick up a beautiful white stone, you see something move on the murky water. Feeling suspicious, you turn back to leave but a wet cold hand grabs your arm, pulling into the deeps of the river.  

You scream and trash your small body, trying to get free from the creature firm hold. Water starts filling your lungs, making difficult to breathe and your body heavy. The creature licks your face and opens his large mouth, showing all his sharp teeth. As he was about to bit your face off, something pulls the creature out of the water, taking you as well.  

When you hit the hard ground, you start coughing all the water out and taking deep breathes, filling your lungs with fresh air.  

The creature lets out a painful scream and fell on the floor, black blood pouring out of his mouth. Looking up, you see Geralt glaring down to the creature, stabbing him with the point of his silver sword.  

Sobbing loudly, you jump to his arms. Burying your face on his warm chest, inhaling his spicy scent. He wraps his arms around your small frame and carries you back to the camp.  

He grabs a warm blanket and wraps it around you. “I..I´m sorry…Please d..don´t be mad at me…” you sob into his neck, curling your small body against his.  

Geralt took a deep breath and kiss gently your forehead. “I´m not mad, Y/n… but you should have listened to me. You could have died if I didn´t hear you yell,” he said, rocking you gently, trying to calm you down.  

You nod and took a deep breath. Your cries begin to die out, only sniffing and whimper quietly into his chest.  

Geralt starts humming a song, making your eyes heavy as sleep begins to take over your sore and shivering body. His gentle strokes on your back made hum in happiness as bury yourself into him, pulling the soft blanket to your shoulder and sigh in relief.  

The only things you could hear was his soft humming and the slow beat of his heart, lulling you to sleep.  

“I love you, Daddy.” with your words, his body tense. His humming stops and his heart starts beating faster. He took a deep breath and kiss your head, you could feel the sweet smile on his lips.  

“And I love you, my daughter.”

Hey Guys!!! So, what do you think? Should i do a part 2? Hope you like it and feel free to comment and tell me what you think!!

Also, Geralt taglist is open. Click right HERE

XOXO

Taglist: @cookies186 | @alwayshave-faith | @toxic-quenn | @nati-epic-jelly | @howlongtillidie | @moderapoppins | @theflamingraven | @ladyrivia | @comfortingcreature | @majicbamana | @rynabarnesrogers​ | @uncoolcloudyhead​ | @burningcoffeetimetravel​

heard you were looking for some ideas for Logan! What about Logan with a significant other that’s basically an oujia board? Like they can talk to dead people, maybe possess people or haunt their dreams? How did they meet Logan, and how did they end up with him, and most importantly what does wade think of their relationship?

I am sorry this one is Longgg

Between Two Worlds

The Encounter

The bar was dimly lit, the low hum of conversations mixing with the clinking of glasses and the occasional burst of laughter. Logan sat at the far end, nursing a whiskey, his gaze distant. He had just finished a mission, and all he wanted was some peace—a rare commodity in his life. The last thing he expected was to meet someone who would change everything.

But then you walked in.

You weren’t like anyone else in the bar. You moved with a calmness that seemed out of place in a place like this, your presence both ethereal and unsettling. Logan noticed the way people gave you a wide berth, as if instinctively sensing something otherworldly about you. You weren’t particularly intimidating, but there was an air of mystery surrounding you—a vibe that made people uncomfortable. But not Logan. He was more intrigued than anything.

You sat down at the bar, a few stools away from him, and ordered a drink. The bartender handed you a glass of something dark, but your eyes weren’t on the drink; they were on Logan.

“You’ve got a lot of ghosts around you,” you said, your voice soft, almost like a whisper.

Logan stiffened slightly. “Do I know you?”

“Not yet,” you replied, a small smile playing on your lips. “But I know you.”

He eyed you warily, sizing you up. “And how’s that?”

You took a sip of your drink, your gaze never leaving his. “I can see them—hear them. The dead. And you, Logan, have a lot of them following you.”

Logan’s grip on his glass tightened, but he didn’t move. He’d seen and heard a lot of strange things in his life, and he wasn’t easily shaken. “You got a name?”

“Y/N,” you said, extending your hand.

He hesitated, then took it. The moment your hands touched, a strange sensation washed over him. It wasn’t pain, but it wasn’t entirely pleasant either—like a cold breeze brushing against his soul. He let go quickly, his eyes narrowing. “What are you?”

You smiled again, but this time it was a little sad. “I’m just someone who can talk to the dead. Sometimes they talk through me, sometimes they use me to do things, but mostly, they just want to be heard.”

Logan took another drink, considering your words. “Sounds like a rough gig.”

“It can be,” you admitted. “But it’s my life. I help them find peace—or vengeance, depending on what they need.”

He respected that. There was something undeniably compelling about you, something that pulled him in despite the warning bells going off in his head. Maybe it was the loneliness he sensed in you, a loneliness that mirrored his own. Whatever it was, Logan couldn’t help but feel a connection to you.

You spent the rest of the evening talking. There was an easy understanding between you, a mutual respect for the darkness in each other’s lives. When the night was over, Logan offered to walk you home, and you accepted. He didn’t know it at the time, but that was the beginning of something neither of you could have predicted.

Weeks turned into months, and what started as a strange, tentative friendship quickly grew into something more. Logan found himself drawn to you in ways he couldn’t explain. You were an enigma, someone who lived between worlds, yet grounded enough to keep him from losing himself in his own darkness.

You moved into Logan’s cabin, a secluded place where you both could escape the chaos of the world. It wasn’t exactly peaceful—Logan’s past and your connection to the dead made sure of that—but it was home.

One night, as you lay in bed together, you stirred awake. Logan could feel it—the change in the air, the subtle shift in your body temperature. He opened his eyes to see you sitting up, staring at something in the corner of the room.

“Who is it this time?” Logan asked, his voice rough with sleep.

“There’s a woman here,” you said, your voice distant. “She’s…angry. Betrayed. She was killed by someone she trusted.”

Logan sighed, sitting up beside you. He was used to this by now. “What does she want?”

You turned to him, your eyes reflecting the sadness and fury of the spirit inside you. “Vengeance. She wants him to suffer like she did.”

Logan could see the strain this was putting on you. “You don’t have to do this tonight. You can tell her to wait.”

You shook your head. “She won’t wait. This is her only chance.”

Without another word, you got out of bed and began to dress, your movements slow and deliberate. Logan knew better than to try and stop you. He’d seen what happened when you resisted the spirits—it wasn’t pretty.

“I’ll come with you,” he said, pulling on his jeans and boots.

You nodded, grateful for his support. Logan’s presence had a way of grounding you, of keeping you tethered to the living world when the dead threatened to pull you under.

As you both headed out into the night, Logan couldn’t shake the feeling that something was different this time. The spirit inside you was more powerful than the others, more determined. He could feel it in the air, a malevolence that made his skin crawl.

The spirit led you to an old, run-down house on the outskirts of town. Logan followed closely behind, his senses on high alert. You walked up to the front door and knocked, your hand trembling slightly.

The door opened, revealing a man in his late forties, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. “Who the hell are you?”

“She knows what you did,” you said, your voice filled with the rage of the spirit within you. “And she’s here to make you pay.”

Logan watched as the man’s face paled, his eyes widening in fear. “No… It can’t be…”

Before Logan could react, you lunged forward, your hand wrapping around the man’s throat. The spirit’s fury flowed through you, making you stronger than you should have been, your grip like iron.

Logan moved quickly, pulling you back before you could do any real damage. “That’s enough, Y/N!”

The man collapsed to the floor, gasping for air, while you struggled against Logan’s hold, the spirit’s anger overwhelming you.

“He deserves to die!” you screamed, your voice no longer your own.

Logan held you tightly, his voice firm but gentle. “This isn’t you, Y/N. You’re stronger than this. Don’t let her control you.”

For a moment, it seemed like the spirit would win, that it would consume you completely. But then, with a shuddering breath, you managed to regain control, the spirit’s presence slowly fading as you collapsed against Logan, exhausted.

The man on the floor was sobbing, babbling apologies that fell on deaf ears. Logan looked down at him with disgust. “Get out of town. If I see you again, you won’t be so lucky.”

The man scrambled to his feet and ran, disappearing into the night.

Logan turned his attention back to you, his hand gently cupping your face. “You okay?”

You nodded weakly, leaning into his touch. “Yeah… I’m okay.”

He sighed in relief, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Let’s get you home.”

Life with you was never boring, and Logan wouldn’t have had it any other way. But when Wade found out about your abilities, things got a little more…interesting.

“Hold up,” Wade said, leaning back in his chair, Mary Puppins perched on his lap. “You’re telling me your significant other is basically a walking, talking Ouija board?”

Logan sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Something like that.”

Wade’s eyes lit up with mischief. “That is so badass! Do you do parties? Can you, like, summon Elvis or something? Wait, don’t answer that—I have a list of people I want to talk to, starting with—”

“Wade,” Logan growled, cutting him off. “It’s not a party trick.”

Wade pouted. “You’re no fun. But seriously, that’s gotta be weird, right? I mean, what happens if they get mad? Do you end up like one of those possessed dolls from horror movies?”

You chuckled, leaning against Logan. “It’s not quite that dramatic, but it can get intense. I try to keep them under control.”

“Still, sounds like a hell of a time,” Wade said, clearly fascinated. “You ever, uh, use your abilities on Logan here? Like, freak him out in the middle of the night?”

You smiled mischievously, glancing at Logan. “Maybe once or twice.”

Logan shot you a look but didn’t say anything. Wade burst out laughing. “Oh man, I wish I could’ve seen that! Logan, scared out of his mind—priceless!”

Logan rolled his eyes, pulling you closer. “I wasn’t scared.”

“Sure, sure,” Wade said, waving his hand dismissively. “But for real, you two are like the weirdest couple I’ve ever seen. And coming from me, that’s saying something. But you know what? I think it works. You balance each other out. Plus, if anyone ever pisses you off, you can just send them a nice little nightmare. That’s a win in my book.”

You and Logan exchanged a glance, both of you smiling. Wade might be a pain, but he wasn’t wrong.

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

POSITIONS MASTERLIST𑁍

part one: positions

part two: my hair

part three: 34+35

part four: safety net