#//but sometimes even it's from someone he does trust

[curtis-brothers-hug]

The line that Soda can put just about anyone to sleep, implies that Ponyboy has seen Soda put multiple people to sleep. We know that for Darry it’s Soda’s back rubs, but what about everyone else.

Ponyboy, who is only able to sleep because Soda shares a bed with him. Even with all the aspirin Pony takes, it’s Soda’s arm swung sleepily across him, Soda’s mere presence, that reassures him that if he has a nightmare he won’t have to wake up alone.

Sandy, who falls asleep on Soda’s shoulder because when she leans against him he goes more still and calm than anyone would think him capable of; staring down at her mesmerized like he’s trying to freeze the moment in time, stroking her hair softly enough to remind her that there’s still gentleness in Tulsa.

Steve, who’s treated to a full body tackle when he crashes on the Curtis couch, Soda playfully refusing to move from his position as human weighted blanket until Steve gives up and goes to sleep. Soda pretends he’s doing it to annoy him, because he knows Steve would die before admitting that touch and weight soothes him, and because the best antidote to a home he gets kicked out of is a home he couldn’t escape if he tried.

Johnny, who sometimes gets skittish at physical touch, so Soda sticks to talking. He just starts rambling about whatever, his animated voice just a few subtle notes softer and lower and less excitable than usual, keeping Johnny company while taking the focus off of him; taking off all the pressure for Johnny to interact or take up any space in order to be given it, and letting him just be.

Two-Bit, whose beer Soda replaces with water at the point before sleepy drunk becomes sick drunk, when he can still get a good night’s sleep, entertaining him with jokes and stories and getting him buzzed on friendship instead of booze.

Of course, Ponyboy says Soda can put “almost anyone to sleep.” Unsurprisingly, Dally is the exception. Soda’s tried, inconspicuously watching tv when Dally crashes on the couch, but Dally just waits him out until Soda’s the one who falls asleep on the floor. Only then does Dally let himself relax, because maybe he sleeps better when someone he trusts is close by, but he would never be vulnerable enough to let himself be “put to sleep.” Which is why Soda fakes sleep, and why he never lets Dally or Pony or anyone else figure it out.

[forsaken-headcanons]

sum bluudud content be hes my favorite of the colorful children <333

he LOVES shitpost status videos so much. Yk those 20 minute meme comps? He LOVES them. He once found a channel that only makes them and binged every video theyve ever uploaded over the course of a month (around 130 videos total)

he's a high school freshman to me. Got forsaken the summer between freshman (first year) and sophomore (second year) probably a little after cOOlkidd and 007n7 to get more specific.

he's cousins with cOOlkidd and visits him and 007n7 a lot, to the point where he has his own room at their house. He sometimes stays for weeks at a time. In fact, his whole streaming setup is at 007's house. Prettyprincess is also another cousin, although he doesnt see her often.

he knows how to drive, and has his learning permit. That's usually how he gets between houses since it's too far to walk.

he LIVES for edgy satire. He ESPECIALLY loves alpha wolf bullshit, he even bought a full set of those alpha wolf clothes PLUS a galaxy wolf backpack for the bit. Mainly to see how hard he would get bullied for it if he wore it to school (some older kids slammed him into a locker and laughed at him, but that was about it) but it genuinely ended up being his favorite outfit because it was so comfortable so now he wears it all the time.

he loves shooters. His fav games to play/stream are tf2, sgo, valorant (only streams it if someone donates 50 dollars), marvel rivals, ULTRAKILL (only plays when not streaming) and fortnite. He also has a sims 4 save where all his sims are messed up abominations that barely count as people.

he would cry if someone at school found out about his twitch/yt

he streams with chance sometimes. Yes chance is a streamer boy. Nobody knows that tho lolz. The voiceline about chance owing him a dono is referring to this one time he bet on a tf2 1v1 and lost. He still has yet to pay the 10 gifted he put on winning the fight.

he has a sibling rivalry with cOOlkidd, usually making fun of him or roughhousing with him, but if someone else tried to beat cOOlkidd up, he'd punch the guy till they bleed. This has happened on multiple occasions.

on the topic of this, he has broken someone's nose before while defending cOOlkidd, no he was not in trouble, 11808 said he did the right thing protecting his cousin. 007n7 wasn't as thrilled about this, but he was just glad cOOlkidd was okay.

bluudud wears cat ear headphones. He says they give him a tactical advantage (they dont)

he calls his fanbase "tem bluudud" (team is misspelled on purpose) and his fans themselves his "bluugoons". His hoodie, saying "tem bluudud get inn now" is part of his merch line.

speaking of which, he's seen people at his school wearing his merch and got really scared that they'd recognize his voice, which REALLY stands out from most people's. and yes, his voice is naturally that way.

he doesn't stream with face cam, rather he uses a persona he drew in his phone's photo editor which looks almost exactly like what he looks like in canon. In reality, he's a skinny teenager with a normal amount of teeth. He is blue though, and he does in fact glow. It's very subtle though.

He looks no different after being forsaken outside of constantly holding his comically large lollypop. It's terrifying for the survivors to watch as the others get brutally murdered by a glowing, blue, slightly underweight 5'6 child.

anyway thats all i have for now ^^ lalalalala i love bluudud lalalalala ^^

— hybrid anon (aka like probably number 153 bluudud fan if we're being honest TwT)

BLUUDUD WEARING CAT EARPHONES IS CANON NOW TRUST US WE'RE SOUL /j

dude. dude. we remember this one hc with 1x saying the dude was eons old so he probably didn't know a lot of modern terms.... bluudud DEFINITELY teaches them brainrot culture. hell he's aware of what he's doing, 100%, and probably has the greatest laugh EVER when asking her what she's been saying to the survivors ("𝓽𝓼 𝓹𝓶𝓸 𝓲𝓬𝓵…") LMFAOSFOAFH

he and noli are gaurantEED to be best buddies trust trust /SILLY

[starkeymeow]

❛ we make each other alive . .

does it matter if it hurts? ❜

I’M COMING, WAIT FOR ME.

PLOT you enter the hunger games a proud weapon of your district, only to find your sharpest blade is the boy beside you, and you’re not sure which one of you the capitol wants to break first.

CONTENT chapter eight, best read in dark mode, rafe cameron x reader au, toppers dying, me lowkey not giving any of u guys any connection to him so his death doesnt even mean anything LMAOOO, FAST PACED ON PURPOSE, also late update omg my bad

main masterlist | series ml | tag list | previous

kie talks you through it with shaky hands. she tells you what to grab, how to press the cloth to the bleeding, where to fold the torn strip of shirt, and you follow each step like it’s gospel.

your fingers are clumsy, your mind racing, but you do it. it’s not perfect, not close, but it’s enough for now. her breathing steadies. she won’t be healed, not really, not in a place like this. but she’s not going to bleed out on the cornucopia floor either.

when the boys return from the hunt, they’re empty-handed and frustrated. they say they searched all the way across the field, even pushed up near the forest line, but nothing. no more sounds, no signs of anyone. topper says they didn’t wanna go too far, not without knowing if you and kie were safe. it’s fine. whoever it was, whatever it was, they’re gone now. someone else will come along eventually. they always do.

but you can’t stay here. not with the bodies. not with the hovercrafts that are about to be looking overhead like vultures waiting for a meal to clear. the air reeks of blood and burned metal.

you gather your things. someone picks up an extra bag, maybe one of the dead boys’, and slings it over their shoulder. anything could be in there. anything might help.

you don’t go toward the birch forest again. no one even suggests it. the caves are off the table too, even if they’d be good for hiding. but you all saw what that forest could do, and nobody wants to imagine what else is waiting in the dark.

afternoon creeps by as you move. jj and rafe support kie on either side, helping her walk, though half the time it’s more like dragging. her leg’s stiff, wrapped in the cloth that’s already spotted with fresh red, and her teeth are clenched so tight she hasn’t said a word since you left the clearing. you keep glancing back at her, your stomach knotting every time you see her wince. she hates this. you can tell. hates being the weak one now, hates not being able to fight or hunt or run.

you and topper scout ahead. neither of you talks much, just short murmurs about the terrain. topper’s wound from earlier is covered. nothing serious, not like kie’s, but he keeps favoring that side slightly. you’re not sure if it’s pain or paranoia.

and your cheek still stings from the other night.

you keep brushing your fingers against it, even when you know you shouldn’t. the skin feels raw, and it burns every time your dirty hand presses against the line that forest carved into you. sometimes you wonder if it’s bleeding again, but it’s not. it just hurts. always.

up ahead, the trees change. they’re different here. there’s no more tall pale birches, no more whispering air or invisible blades. these ones are darker, rougher, bark cracked and dry under your touch. there’s more earth here, more scattered leaves, a few berry bushes that you don’t trust. you stop walking, but listen.

there’s water nearby. you can hear it. it’s a stream, not far off. good. you’ll need to refill soon.

“set her down,” you say quietly. you’re standing in a patch of ground that looks as good as any. there’s no perfect place to rest, not here, but this feels . . . still. feels okay for now at least.

jj and rafe lower kie to the ground carefully, easing her down near the roots of one of the trees. her leg stretches out and she groans, barely audible, but it’s the most she’s said since everything. she’s holding in more pain than she lets on, you’re sure of it. her hands are trembling again. her jaw’s locked.

you don’t say anything. you just crouch next to her and help adjust her backpack so she can lean against it more comfortably.

you don’t know who’s in charge anymore. rafe hasn’t said much. so maybe it’s jj, maybe you, maybe it’s no one. but you can tell just by the way everyone moves, the way they keep looking at kie, that they want something to hit back. someone to pay. it doesn’t matter that the ones who hurt kie are already dead. every tribute you meet now is going to pay for it.

you hate that. yet you understand it completely.

you wipe your hands on your pants and straighten up. there's still enough daylight to do something with it. you’re not sure what yet, but you feel like staying here too long will only get you killed.

you walk between them, with rafe on your right, topper on your left, close enough to feel like guards, but no one says anything about it. the three of you have been wandering for what feels like hours, the only sounds being the crunch of dirt and twigs beneath your boots and the occasional snap of a branch overhead. no signs of life. no tributes. no traps. nothing but open space and silence. it’s getting old fast. you wonder if the capitol is getting bored.

“this is fucking stupid,” topper mutters, dragging the flat of his axe over his shoulder like it’s heavier than it is. “where is everyone?”

“hiding,” rafe answers, voice rough from disuse. “waiting for us to do somethin’ dumb before they do probably.”

you’ve already filled your flasks at the stream. there’s no cannon, no anthem, no parachute gifts from above. just a long stretch of forest that refuses to end, but then something catches your eye. it’s a rose, red and full, nestled against the base of a tree. then another. and another, a few feet apart. you stop walking.

topper nearly walks into you. “what?”

you don’t answer. you’re too busy staring at the ground.

“roses?” he scoffs. “real subtle. there’s gotta be somethin’ wrong with ‘em.”

“just looks like the arena decorator got trigger-happy,” rafe says, giving a faint smirk.

you glance around. the roses aren’t in any kind of pattern. they’re just . . . there. out of place. but they don’t look dangerous. they just look dumb.

“think it’s a trap?” topper asks, eyeing the nearest one.

“everything’s a trap,” you mutter. “but this just looks like bad taste.”

“you wanna go through or around?” rafe asks, watching you carefully.

“doesn’t matter. just don’t touch them,” you say, stepping wide around the first bush. “it’s not like we’re gonna be eating them anyway, so there’s no use for them. but i’m not in the mood to die by a flower.”

“you’re no fun,” topper grins.

you roll your eyes. at this point it doesn’t feel like the hunger games, it feels like someone hit pause. you half expect a bird to startle or a cannon to boom just to break the tension.

rafe falls into step beside you again. his posture is tense, eyes scanning the trees. same as you.

“we’ll check the next clearing,” you say after a beat. “then head back.”

“yeah,” rafe agrees, rubbing the back of his neck. “kie’s probably bored out of her mind.”

“she’s not gonna like sitting still much longer,” topper says behind you.

“none of us do,” you mumble.

eventually you’re crouched low, dagger in hand. there’s something small. a rabbit maybe, or something close to it. but it’s edible, has to be. topper’s only a few feet away, his axe held loose in one hand as he scans the trees above.

you’re both quiet, breathing barely there. the arena gave you a gift, meat, if you’re lucky enough to catch it, but you haven’t seen anything yet except for rustling that never amounts to anything.

then topper shifts suddenly. quick, like he sees something. he straightens slightly, shoulders tense, and turns his head back toward the direction of camp.

you look up just in time to see his jaw clench. “what?” you whisper.

“someone’s moving,” he says under his breath. “headed back. toward—” he flinches like he’s about to bolt.

but rafe’s hand snaps out and clamps down on topper’s shoulder. “stay with y/n.” he doesn’t even look at him when he says it. his gaze is trained on the trees, locked in on whatever he saw, body already leaning toward motion. then he’s gone. he jogs forward, weaving through thick brush until you can’t see him anymore.

topper lets out a breath through his nose, shifting the grip on his axe. “i could’ve gone.”

“i know,” you murmur, watching where rafe vanished. “he probably figured we’d be more useful together. still gotta eat. what can he kill with a mace anyway?”

“. . . like a lot.”

“shut up.”

you shake your head and crouch again, dragging your fingers through the dirt to find the tracks you lost. no point in arguing. you trust rafe. you trust topper. you’re fine.

“besides,” you mutter, glancing up at him with the barest smirk, “we get the fun job. stabbing dinner.”

topper huffs, something close to a laugh, and drops beside you to keep searching. his axe hangs at his side.

you spot fresh claw marks in the bark of a nearby tree, low to the ground, uneven. squirrel. recently, too. you swear you see something run past just a few feet away.

“there,” you whisper, motioning him forward. you can’t bring the group back a full recovery, but you can bring them dinner.

as you and topper move quietly through the thick brush, the squirrel stays just ahead, skittish but unaware, stopping now and then to gnaw on something or twitch its tail like it’s teasing you. the trail has curved slightly, leading you away from where you were and closer to the darker edge of the terrain. there’s more shadow, more uneven ground. the caves.

you slow your pace. topper does too, glancing at you like even he knows this feels off.

the squirrel darts toward the opening, its small frame barely making a sound as it scurries inside. you take another step, eyes narrowed as you peer into the shadows.

it’s still bright out. the sun’s filtering behind the trees, but the inside of that cave swallows the light whole. you can’t even see where the walls end.

you raise a hand to stop topper from getting closer. “hold on.”

but before he can answer, something moves in the dark. it’s not the squirrel. a sound echoes. it’s a wet, guttural clicking, like bones being sucked clean. and then it comes. fast.

not just fast, but wrong. a blur of movement and sound. the mutt is long-limbed and slick-skinned, pale like it’s never seen light, with ridged arms and a jaw that seems unhinged, split in two like mandibles from hell. it was made for the caves. its back legs are almost canine, but the front limbs are lean and human-shaped, with claws too long, too sharp.

and its eyes, there are too many. six, bulging, pupil-less, just black and glistening.

it launches out of the cave, mouth opening wide with a scream that sounds like metal tearing. you’re dead.

you and topper dive to opposite sides, pure instinct.

“go, go!” you yell, scrambling back to your feet as it claws at the dirt where you just were.

topper throws his axe, but it bounces off the thing’s back with a sickening crack and it only screeches louder, its body jerking as if it’s already healing. it doesn’t care about the squirrel. it was waiting for tributes. it was waiting for you two.

your heart’s pounding as you grab toppers hand and run. you duck under branches and stumble over roots as the thing crashes behind you. it’s fast, relentless, and too quiet for something its size. it doesn’t howl like an animal. it doesn’t growl. it just moves, all hunger and precision, like it’s wired to kill and nothing more.

topper spins mid-run and throws a rock next, something, anything, to buy time. you see the jagged chunk of bark miss its mark completely, and the mutt doesn’t even flinch.

“fuck!” topper yells. your legs feel like lead.

the trees are too dense and there’s no straight path out, just tangled brush, fallen logs, and nowhere to hide. you’re running blind when your foot slips in the mud, and you crash into the ground.

you let out a scream. it tears from your throat without thought, raw, desperate, loud enough to echo through the forest. you don’t know if jj or kie or anyone can hear it, but you hope. gods, you hope.

topper grabs your hand and hauls you up again, and for a second you’re running together, barely outpacing the thing.

until you hear him cry out.

you turn just in time to see his body lifted—no, dragged, his legs kicking as the mutt sinks its claws into his back and pulls. its jaw splits wider than you thought possible, ripping into him like he’s nothing more than a piece of meat.

“topper!” your voice breaks.

you don’t even realize you’ve dropped your dagger. your hand is still holding his hand, trying to pull him, trying to save him as if you can still. your body is trembling with the effort. he’s screaming, his other hand trying to grab anything nearby, but the mutt’s too strong.

his grip starts to loosen.

he meets your eyes for one moment. there’s a mixture of pain, fear, acceptance. “run,” he gasps.

and you let go.

you fall backward, crawling away in the dirt, tears streaking down your face as you choke on your own breathing. you want to look away but you can’t. the thing, this mutt, this serpent-limbed, frog-eyed, reptilian horror, keeps tearing into him. it doesn’t even acknowledge you anymore. you’re nothing to it now.

but then, hands grab you.

you’re hauled to your feet, your legs barely cooperating, your lungs collapsing. everything’s too loud, too quiet, too much.

“y/n!” rafe’s voice cuts through everything.

he’s frantic, his arm tight around your waist as he pulls you through the trees. you’re stumbling, barely upright, but he won’t let go. you don’t look back. you can’t.

rafe’s voice is a blur in your ears the second time he says something. it’s just sound, not words.

his hand is a vice around yours, pulling you through trees you barely register. everything around you blurs, colors smeared together like wet paint. the only thing sharp is the memory of topper’s scream still echoing in your skull, blood-soaked and too real.

you’re moving, but it just feels like you’re underwater. like your legs are carrying you, somehow, but not fast enough. your brain is disconnected from your body. your chest burns with every breath, but you don’t feel it, not really. not yet.

you don’t even notice the way your ankle rolls until the ground disappears beneath your foot.

your body jerks. pain sears up your leg like fire, and you cry out, but you don’t fall. your grip tightens on rafe’s arm, knuckles white, and he’s already twisting toward you. his other arm loops around your back in an instant, dragging you up, holding you upright, muttering something under his breath you can’t make out.

“‘ve got you,” you think he says. “you can— please, come on, y/n!”

he adjusts his hold so you’re almost tucked into him now, half-dragged, half-carried, your face buried in the side of his arm as he keeps moving. it’s easier like this, running with him carrying half your weight, grounding you in a way your brain can’t do on its own right now.

your eyes blink rapidly, breath catching as trees rush past you, as your feet start to fall in rhythm again. you don’t know where he’s taking you. it could be anywhere, just away from the cave, deeper into the woods, toward safety or another death trap, you don’t know.

but you let him lead. you don’t ask questions. you just hold on.

in just moments, you don’t know how long you’ve been running. it feels endless. the pain in your ankle is still there, throbbing, but dulled now, probably from the adrenaline. it’s like your body knows you can’t afford to feel anything else right now.

you stumble after him, blinking up as the trees begin to thin out, and you realize too late that he’s leading you straight toward a ledge.

you want to scream. you want to stop. your feet try to dig in against the dirt but there’s no time, no grip, no warning. your heart seizes in your chest as the world disappears from under you, your stomach lurching violently like it’s trying to climb up your throat. and then—

water.

you hit it hard. you sink for a second, deeper than you expect, your limbs flailing on instinct. you’re not sure what direction is up until your fingers brush the surface and you kick toward it blindly. when you break through, you’re gasping, coughing, spitting out water that burns your throat as it forces its way out. you blink rapidly, trying to clear your eyes, trying to focus. but you’re yanked back again.

your heart jumps for a second time, it’s rafe. his arms wrap around you fast, anchoring you, guiding you toward the side of the rocky wall you just leapt from. you crash gently against it together as he presses you close, keeping both of you low in the water, bodies half-submerged.

his hand clamps over your mouth before you even realize you’re still coughing.

you freeze, eyes snapping wide, your fingers curling tight around his wrist, and you don’t even try to pull away. not when you see his expression. not when you hear it.

it’s still out there.

you can hear the mutt somewhere in the forest, claws scraping bark, paws pounding against the underbrush. it’s sniffing, hunting, close. your breathing is frantic behind his palm, nose flaring with panic as you force yourself to blink the water and tears away, trying to see, to hear more clearly.

there’s a scream. it’s someone else’s. a girl. your whole body jolts.

rafes arm around you tightens immediately, and you don’t realize how hard you’re shaking until he pulls you flush against his chest, like he’s trying to shield you even though there’s nothing left to protect you from. not right now. not with the mutt running in the other direction, toward her.

you don’t even know if that makes it better or worse.

your fingers are still trembling when his hand starts to loosen over your mouth, his palm dragging slowly away as he watches your face. your chest rises and falls fast, but not as hard as before. you finally pull in a proper breath. and another. your fingers fall away from his wrist.

you look up at him. he’s soaked, blood and mud and water smeared all over his arms, across his jaw, in his hair. he looks back at you, and for a second there’s a flicker in his eyes, something pained, distant, heavy. like he did see it. like he saw everything.

you don’t speak. neither does he. he just shakes his head slowly, like he’s telling you not to ask, so you don’t say anything.

you look away first, just back toward the water, then back toward the forest. your lip trembles once before you bite it. you want to scream but you can’t. you just close your eyes and swallow it down.

when you open them again, the sun is starting to shift. somewhere in the distance, you think you can hear birds again. like nothing happened. like topper didn’t just die. like the world didn’t just tear open and leave you raw.

you exhale through your nose and glance up at the forest again, your jaw clenched.

wherever kie and jj are . . . you just hope they’re still breathing. you hope they’re not next. you hope you don’t have to lose anyone else. you just hope.

a/n: im at school on my phone so lowkey i havent checked the tag list for any new responses so NEXT CHAPTER ILL GET CAUGHT UP ON WHOEVER WANTS TO BE TAGGED IM SRY ILY

@nicholaschavezslut69 @iissza @snowtargaryen @yootvi @ariiwritess @spideysimpossiblegirl @skyslowalking @adribarbie @obsessionsarenotfortheweak @0-tatiana-0 @beebeerockknot @rafestar @drewstarkeyzwhore @drewsephrry @annaconscience @writtenbyhollywood @yourtypicalteenagegirl @daisydark @v4mpscrms @issahruiz @ilovefictionallmenn @derpjungkook @vanessa-rafesgirl @sunny1616 @alphabetically-deranged @nrmlgirl @supercxnt @xoxosblogsblog @rafegetinmybed @siyahmoonlight @livie4lifestarkeyblyth @d-daxx @tsumudoll @ogcrashout @jjasmiineee @loverliner @ailimedae @belle101200 @hiimbrina @nomup @ayy1234567 @girxwrp @k4yr14 @amterasuu @theteenagementality @maggscr @hey-you22w @delilah22pbp

[piccxzell]

High Honor Arthur Morgan Headcanons :3

Lowkey NSFW under the cut so…urm you have been warned

➴➵➶GENERAL HCS➴➵➶➴➵➶

Arthur loves to draw his partner, in any state, sleeping, awake, happy, sad. He wants to capture every movement and every moment. He loves going back and seeing how you looked one day as opposed to another.

If Arthur is upset or on edge about something i think he would actively avoid eating. Like not starving himself exactly….just avoiding eating. Not actively seeking out food or anything, would eat if offered something, but wouldn’t go out of his way to get food for himself.

Spends way too long critiquing himself in the mirror, picking and plucking at his hair to get it to sit right, biting his nails down to look more “masculine”, practicing facial expressions to make sure he doesn’t look like a fool.

I think he purposely hides his face with his hat, it could be dark as night, he could be inside, and he would keep his gaze down. Either too insecure to look up, or feeling as if hes too intimidating for the moment.

He likes when his partner bathes him and vice-versa. He’ll talk about whatever, Dutch’s plan, Micah’s insolence, the reverend’s refusal to get better, Sadie’s gunslinging. Anything. When hes in the bath, hes very emotionally vulnerable.

Hes so grabby. By the waist, by the hand, by the belt loop. forehead kisses, nips to the neck or shoulder, hand on his partner’s head.

Does the thumb thing idc.

He doesn’t really know how to settle down, so he isnt very good at reading people’s needs, but the second his partner mentions wanting something hes on top of it. “𝚘𝚑, 𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚜𝚎𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 (𝚡,𝚢,𝚣) 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎….” and the next morning its on their bedside table.

If he gets particularly comfortable, he would show his partner some of his drawings, maybe just the small ones, like the drawings of animals he finds, or plants. The whole time he just mutters about how bad they are or how he “hardly spent time on it” which makes his partner even more impressed.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆personal headcanons based off MY gameplay⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

Always, always, ALWAYS has some sort of fresh fruit on him, cant STAND the taste of canned fruit after eating them for months straight, thinks the sugar level is too much and can’t handle it anymore.

talks to his horse probably more than he talks to most people. Just any horse really. He’ll sit on the porches of businesses and just talk to the horses hitched there.

Rarely steals anymore, but if he’s really low on money, he might. Of course, the second Dutch claims to have a plan hes robbing left and right. But personally, he doesnt see the appeal much anymore. Will definitely loot people who tried to shoot him though.

Loves exploring, will spend days on the trail, in different states and environments just seeing what he can. Though, he once came upon an old shack just west of a river and got so sick he had to stay back at camp for a few weeks.

Loots old abandoned buildings. Doesn’t matter if its filled with only stale bread and ammo, sometimes if he’s lucky he’ll find a few dollars and he likes the idea of holding onto it to give someone in the future.

Claims he trusts Dutch’s plan, but has never once contributed money for camp. Well, one time he did. A few cents. But only because Grimshaw had gotten upset with him. Always makes sure everyone has food though.

Spends a lot of time around camp, often times neglecting tasks in favor of just being around the gang. Besides, it pushes them to contribute too.

He rarely cuts his hair. Keeps his beard low, but prefers having long hair. Claims it covers his neck to protect him from the heat, but just likes how it covers more of his body.

sleeps for either 38 hours uninterrupted or doesn’t sleep for a week. No in between at all.

⋆ ݁. ˖ 𖠰 ݁↟𐂂 ݁↟𖠰 ˖ . ݁⋆ Freaky HC🤤⋆ ݁. ˖ 𖠰 ݁↟𐂂 ݁↟𖠰 ˖ . ݁⋆

Bites his partners lip, thinks it the hottest thing in the world. He loved seeing his partners face scrunch up with temporary pain before he kisses it all better.

Says the sweetest things in the most condescending way. “Oh…well now look atchu darlin’…” “…hush now, sweet thing, yer bein’ too loud.” “Thats it, sugar…take it.”

does the knee thing. (idc if this is canon. This is real to ME!)

Such a sucker for seeing his partner on their knees. He loves the eye contact. Thinks eyes are the window to the soul and absolutely just melts whenever he sees his partners eyes looking up at him.

Grips the headboard.

He likes to hold his partner’s hands during missionary, just one, both, holding their hands above their head. He loves it, he loves running his thumb over their veins while he does it.

Kneads his partner’s thighs when he’s between them.

He has a whole lot of self control. Stops the second he sees hes doing something wrong. His partner looks just a little too uncomfortable, hes paused. “Darlin’..? alright?” “Theres my good girl/boy.”

Keeps a pretty consistent pace. But the second he feels nails dig into his back or hands grip his hair, his hips stutter and his next few thrusts get all sloppy.

I think he would be VERY good at tying his partner up. Though it isnt really his thing, he absolutely would if they asked.

He growls, he pants. Animalistic sounds are absolutely his thing. Loves making noise.

Cant do quickies, he tried once. Left him feeling so unfinished and unfulfilled.

Hes been with women before, had a kid before, he absolutely knows what hes doing, and has discussed the possibility of kids, but inevitably came to the conclusion that if it didn’t happen by accident he didn’t want to bring a little one into this world. (Though one major point for wanting one was seeing how well his partner was with Jack.)

Absolutely will NOT do knife or gun play, worried he might hurt you. (unlike low honor Arthur who i think would love that kind of stuff.)

[iceey07]

So a handful of people were asking for lore based on this so here's a quick lore

Yes it is Prowl Jazz or Jazzprowl (idk which one it is) and its doomed yaoi

They love eachother but that fact is a threat to themselves. Theyre respected autobots. The right and left hand of Optimus prime.

Jazz loves Prowl, he can feel a deep respect that Prowl rarely gives to anyone else and had supported him. Assisting him on missions or giving out good word in his favor for Jazz. But he always felt more than just respect or a strange friendship

Jazz is like mysterious extrovert. He is a team A leader and the glue to any fall out of a team but he is rarely open. Many bots dont realize how little they know about him because he makes itmore about everyone else than himself.

But why do tney contradict each other to a point where they are both enemies and lovers and hate the fact that They love each other?

Prowl is all control, logic, order. He strategizes three steps ahead, and his world has to make sense. He's the type to suppress emotion until it eats him from the inside, all for the mission. He Values efficiency, hierarchy, rules- and he needs to believe that following them leads to victory.

Jazz, on the other hand, thrives in chaos. He's improvisational, intuitive, people-first. He leads by heart and gut, not protocol. His adaptability is his strength, and he finds meaning the moment, not necessarily in the plan.

So when they love each other, it's a threat. Not because of the love itself, but because what it represents:

For Prowl: Jazz's very existence is a constant reminder that you can win people over, lead effectively, and find meaning without control. That terrifies Prowl, because if Jazz is right, then Prow|'s entire worldview-his way of coping with war, trauma, and identity- starts to crack.

For Jazz: Prowl is the kind of person who eminds him of the cold, distant command structures that cost lives and relationships. But Prowl isn't heartless--he's just guarded. And that makes Jazz care. Deeply. Which he hates, because caring about someone so rigid, so by-the-book, means opening up to something he can't control either.

They hate that they love each other ecause it means vulnerability.

Loving Prowl means Jazz has to admit he wants structure sometimes. Sometimes he wishes he could be seen not just as the fun-loving, reliable guy but as something deeper--and Prowl does see that.

Loving Jazz means Prowl has to admit that he wants to feel. To be spontaneous. That he's tired of being the calculating machine. And Jazz is the only one who can reach that part of him- and it terrifies him.

So what happens?????

It was a terrible moment when Prowl decided to change the spec ops' plans when infiltrating the decepticon base during a plan of attack.

As a result he knew it would cost a few lives. He told nimself that its for the greater good even though it would upset Jazz. He trusted Jazz's abilities and knew he would get out alive with the cost of his bots but he also knew he would be enraged.

He knew he couldnt argue Jazz into the plan so he did it behind his back last minute. It almost killed Jazz but he survived. The reason why Jazz looks away in the video first is because Jazz is the one who rejects him.

Jazz rejected Prow| first. The one bot he trusted betrayed him and got his soldiers killed for the sake of results.

So in the end Jazz tells himself that love was a luxury anyway

THATS ALL I HAVE FOR NOW. probably revise cus im still not satisfied. FEEL FREE TO SUGGEST THINGS IN THE ASK BOX THINGY

[jude457]

back with more headcanon for In-ho and the young Manager based on your fic <3

tw for the VIPs...

after the VIPs are "done" with Front Man, sometimes In-ho will just lie on the floor, too wounded to get up and retreat to his own room. and he will continue lying there until he can move again, until he can drag himself back / until he can crawl back to his own quarters where he'll be treating the injuries himself. he's done this a dozen times before.

because it's not the guards' job to take care of him. until the young Manager was recruited.

so In-ho's lying on the ground when the young Manager comes in (he has no reason to be here), after the VIPs leave and In-ho's just lying on the ground, and he (the young Manager) does what no other guard has ever done before; the young Manager helps In-ho up to his feet, lets In-ho lean his entire weight against him and — being super careful and gentle — takes In-ho back to his room.

and he helps tend to In-ho's injuries there.

idk I just think it'd be nice if In-ho had someone to look after him while in the game, someone who genuinely cared about him and wouldn't use his vulnerability to hurt him, and he deserved some kindness after everything he went through

you have convinced me to open up my word doc and draft a one shot for this.

THIS HEADCANON IS HEARTBREAKING BUT IT ALSO MAKES ME SO SOFT 😭

i can also imagine the Manager, after being done patching Inho up, standing guard at his bedside.

and the thing is — Inho never really sleeps in his quarters. not safely. not peacefully. it’s a place that should mean rest, but it doesn’t. not after everything. not after the nights where the door opens and he can’t stop it, can’t stop them. there’s no lock to turn, no escape route. it’s just him, and the waiting, and the fear that settles like lead in his chest the second the lights go out.

he sleeps in full clothes — long sleeves, layers, sometimes even his full frontman uniform minus the mask if the panic’s bad enough. blankets piled too high, as if they could somehow protect him, bury him, make him disappear. and the lights are always on. not dimmed, not low. on. because the dark means they’re coming.

he curls up so small he aches by morning. always on his side, always facing the door.

but the Manager stays.

after tending to his injuries with hands so gentle it almost makes Inho flinch — not from pain, but from the shock of being treated like a person — the Manager doesn’t leave. he stands beside the bed. a silent watchtower in a place built on cruelty. and he doesn’t try to talk Inho down from his fear. he doesn’t pretend it isn’t real. he just stays. and it shouldn’t make a difference — it shouldn’t — but it does.

because slowly, Inho begins to let go of his defenses. just a little. just enough. the first night the Manager stands guard, Inho manages to sleep with a softer shirt instead of a stiff uniform. the next, he turns the lights down instead of keeping them blazing. eventually, he sheds the extra layers of blankets, keeps just one — enough to be warm, not buried.

he doesn’t stop fearing the door. doesn’t stop listening for footsteps. but with the Manager there — standing between him and the dark — he feels something he hasn’t in a long, long time:

not alone.

and when the nightmares still come — because they always do — the Manager is there, every time. soft voice in the dark. “shhh… I’m here. it’s alright. you’re safe.” he adjusts the blankets Inho kicked off in his panic. rests a steady hand near his shoulder, never too close, never uninvited.

Inho doesn’t wake up terrified the way he used to. not when that voice is the first thing he hears. not when the only person in the Games he dares to trust is right there beside him.

he still fears the nights. but now there’s something else, too. something quieter. something kind.

and that, in this place, is everything.

[artificialroux]

fork's high left winger abigail brooks: the bruiser, the dreamer, and the quiet storm

born: october 20th, 1989

species: human(?)

year: sophomore at forks highschool

love interest: jacob black

faceclaim: sophie thatcher

sweet thing, i watch you

— with smudged eyeliner like war paint and boots two sizes too big—stolen from her dad’s closet years ago—abigail brooks is forks high’s paradox: the girl who looks like she might punch you in the face but is somehow the first one to pick someone up off the field. her bleach-blonde hair is choppy and uneven from late-night bathroom mirror sessions with dull scissors. she always looks a little wild, a little feral, like she might vanish into the woods and never come back.

— abigail doesn’t say much unless she has something to say—and when she does, it’s sharp, dry, and usually funny if you get her. most people don’t. but she’s not cruel, just cautious. she’s been burned before and doesn’t hand out trust easily. beneath that "mean mug" is someone fiercely loyal, fiercely protective, and deeply observant. the kind of girl who remembers the way your voice cracked when you said your mom was sick. the kind of girl who’ll leave a flower on your locker with no note and pretend it wasn’t her.

— she plays left wing on the forks high soccer team—fast, strategic, aggressive. art is her real love, though. sketchbooks crammed with charcoal dreams, tangled symbols, faces she’s never seen but somehow knows. lately, her dreams have turned vivid and strange. things that happen later—days, sometimes weeks after she draws them. a wolf in the road. a storm that never came. a boy with fire in his chest and shadows in his wake.

burn so fast it scares me

— abigail and jacob were those kinds of childhood friends—the kind who grew up sharing backyard bonfires, tire swings, and half-eaten popsicles. her dad and billy black were close, bonded by old stories, fishing trips, and a quiet understanding that came from living in a place like forks too long. the brooks family wasn’t quileute, but they were close enough to be folded into the edges of la push life.

— jacob and abigail used to build forts out of driftwood and carve initials into trees like it meant something. he called her "abs" back then, before the bleach and the boots and the walls she built around herself.

— they drifted apart in middle school—she got quiet, he got taller. life started to change, as it does. but there’s a weird ache between them now, something deeper than memory. like they’ve both been walking in circles for years, about to meet again in the center of something bigger.

hii guys!! meet my cringey twilight oc...she's been lingering in my mind since i read the books like 2 years ago and finished them last year!! i wanted to make jacob an age appropriate love interest who actually treated him right...she's based off book lore more than movie lore hence her birthdate!! idk if anyone even likes twilight or ocs for it but it's one of my favorite guilty pleasure series and i've worked hard on developing abigail for a while now so i hope you guys like her 🫶🏻

tags : @dippindotties @logansdogmotif (lemme know if you wanted added!!)

credit for template inspo : @sapphicides

[immadatdisney2]

Okay what r ur modern hcs for Vat7k or TTS?

*cracks knuckles* okay, get ready for this >:3 (also, let it be known I have more but I'm limiting myself 😔)

This one's basic but beautiful but Hugo has a motorcycle and yes he made it himself, it is his pride and joy

Donnie is Hugo's foster mom and depending on the au she's either sweet Momella who finds him as a fucked up kid, fosters him and adopts him juuuuuuuuuuuust before he turns eighties, Blitz style (but if she's a mean Bitchella she fosters him for the government paycheck and treats him like shit)

Yong is OBSESSED with Steven Universe, will light up when someone asks him about it and has been making fanart for it since he was like eight or stm

Hugo wears chunky doc Martin's and ONLY dov Martin's (they're dected out with charms and stuff, this is me projecting) which pisses Varian off cause it only makes this bitch taller

Rapunzel became an art teacher and she makes murals with her students throughout the school (but she's annoyed they make here wear shoes there lol, she wears those weird barefoot ones)

Varian was in juvie and this is probably where he met Hugo

Nuru looooooooooooooooove crocheting, and her ultimate show of love is making you a personalized sweater (it took her a while to make one for Hugo and the first one was made with purposefully itchy yarn. Yong on the other hand has dozens of them)

Hector once sneaked Varian aside at a family party when he was like 16 or stm to teach him how to do shots right but got mad when Varian actually liked it and said "No! You're too young for this go have some apple juice!"

Hugo either dresses grundge and like he couldn't give a fuck or like a total dramatic slut (the first one is me projecting again)

Nuru hates having to take care of her natural hair (despite loving how much it looks) so she usually wears it in braids or her favorite, those star puffs hair extentions that I saw on YouTube that one time (someone pls now what I'm talking about)

Kiera is a sickass softball player (loves threatening people with her metal bat) and Cat does it with her but it isn't her favorite lol (Oh and they both play viola cause ✨️projecting✨️

Hugo's glasses are taped together cause he's clumsy but refuses to pay for new frames (those cost so fucking much dude-)

Varian likes to doodle on his sneaker and Ying does it too because he wants to be like his big brother and sometimes they doodle on eachothers shoes <3

Hugo pireced his own ears, did his only needle-poke tattoos and is basically just DIY or die

Yong uses his adorable dumpling-ness to get away with shit but his true colors are LITERAL SPAWN FROM HELL (trust me, all twelve year old are)

Because of all his experience with chemistry, Varian is one helluva bartender

THIS ONE IS MY FAVORITE RN!!! Hugo at some point was enlisted in the army (in my eyes to try and get away from Donella) and it leave him even more traumatized and it either goes a) dishonorable discharge for smt like stealing, idk OR b) he gets his arm blow off from a grenade or it has to be amputated cause he got shit or something so he leaves with a metal of honor, some dog tags he never take off and ✨️trauma✨️

Varian is actually pretty popular in highschool/collage but never goes out and Hugo is always at every party but just sits in the corner getting stoned

When Varian came out (to Eugene first, cause his crush on Hugo slipped out) Eugene makes an entire presentation on why being bi is AWSOME, but WHY HUGO!?!?!?!

Nuru lives wearing super pretty gold eyeliner and makeup and sometimes she and Hugo will do makeovers <3

Hugo faced a lot of homophobia in service so he struggled with it when he got out (especially the genderfluid part) :(((

Amber's has the kost subtle or southern accents and Nuru loves it, and she can make the BEST peach cobbler since she grew up in Gerogia <3<3<3 (like Nuru cires tears of joy everytime she makes it)

Hugo at some point was a pretty heavy smoker/stoner (man ALL my modern hc of him so far are angsty.... dang) but Varian always hated it and forced him to quit by saying "I'm not gonna kiss you anymore, that smoke tastes like shit!" (That saying, there first kiss was Hugo shotgunning him at Varians one and only collage party based on an amazing fic I read <3)

Ummmmmm happiesh Hugo thing! He loves playing the violin, it's one of his favorite things especially when he gets to play with Varian and bully Kiera & Cat for playing the viola

Every year, team radical goes to the amusement park as a summer tradition and every year, Hugo gets sick on the roller-coaster but goes anyway because Var lives them. Nuru gets her face painted while amber wins a bunch of stupid prizes for her and Yong gets lost on purpose to scare the gang

Somone BETTER ask me this again cause this is really long and my fingers hurt so I'm leaving it here for now, do with is what you will~

-ImMadAtDisney <3

[trials-of-a-spirit-worker]

Some Things That Tarot Readers Don't Tell You

But I will!

You don't have to memorize everything

There are 78 cards with a meaning for upright and reversed. Maybe after years of experience you won't have a problem remembering all of them, but honestly...don't feel bad about not remember what the fuck one card out of 78 does. That's 156 meanings to think about.

Not to mention, sometimes, certain tarot have specific meanings for their deck in general. It is more than okay to just focus on the overall themes and meanings of each car as best as you can and go from there.

You'll be fine.

You can make your own spread

You do not have to wait for someone's spread or even restrict yourself to what your tart pamphlet has. Be creative. Your magic, your divination is how you work it. Allow yourself to spread your wings.

You don't have to use astrology to give an accurate reading

It's cool if you can. But I never thought about the houses, which planet is where, etc and I do readings for people and myself just fine. I'm sure the houses and such add to some readings or even can help people, but it is not a prerequisite. You will read just fine without it. Just practice.

And for those who think they're a better reader or a "real" divination witch or whatever, because you can do this, just know...you're actually an asshole.

People are going to freak out regardless. Just explain the damn cards

I can't tell you how many times I've seen faces pale at the devil card. Or the hanged man (I think people don't like the word hanged...which...understandable and same) Some will flinch at the meaning of the tower or death and such. Ignore it is not a good thing to really say, but just don't focus on reassuring them each and every time. Instead, calm them if its too much and explain what's happening and what you think the cards mean for them. Every Tower is not catastrophic. Death is not a scary card. It's a card of change. The Devil does not mean you're going to hell. And sometimes those cards we think of as happy go lucky and such or the "good" cards can spell a lot of doom and gloom for your ass too. Try and keep your energy as neutral as possible so you can calm who you're reading for. Also, don't worry if it's for you. They're here to guide you and help communicate first and foremost. Don't forget that.

All cards do not use their hard meaning

As I said above, the hard meaning isn't always the case. For example, the fool can be new beginnings, the start of a journey etc. When in question about a career, it could mean you might have a new position or maybe even going to change jobs. Or!

It could mean you're being a fucking noob. And I'm not saying that to be funny. I mean like if he's supposed to be in the beginning or such. And there's some cards that are saying like you need more practice/skill. That would mean you're fucking up. Hell, maybe it means you need to start back at the basics. Those things are not the hard definition or the meanings. Use the hard meanings as a guide, but loosely. Cards will affect each other. Hell, I've seen the Devil and some other cards be used to say someone was a freak in bed. (bondage meaning in the card)

Trusting your intuition takes time

This is something I have to remind myself of a lot. Especially because of how strong my spiritual prowess and intuition was when I was younger. Allow yourself to grow and build. Ask any guides or deities of yours to help if you need it. But more importantly don't be too hard on yourself. Progress is not linear.

You can and will be wrong

There's no way to avoid that. Sometimes you will not get what's happening. Sometimes you'll misinterpret the cards. It just happens sometimes. You're not a fake, you're not a bad witch. You're just here...living life and sometimes living life means you fucked up a reading or two. You will live. And you will rock many more readings.

You learn more from failure than you do success. So find out where you went wrong if you can and then work on it. Tarot is a skill too. So is intuition.

Good luck out there, witches!

[brctherscnce]

Today had been an attempt to make progress.

To find supplies. To make a ship. To begin the slow journey to try to get home. They had the scrap, they could make it work-- the issue was the need for energy, for power, for communications, all of it.

And yet, like with many things, it was as if the universe wished to curse Optimus for his attempts to focus on himself. While today was nothing too bad-- they'd managed to keep away from Cemetery Wind AND the TRF-- it was his own processor working against him that was the issue. He'd first awoken that day to what felt like the old, warped metal on the side of his helm having flared with pain-- that was something he had gotten used to.

It was when the memories chose to haunt him during a temporary recharge period that he could never get used to.

As always, if only out of necessity, his expression was neutral if not a little bit more cold. His stoic visage hid what he'd been truly thinking, what was plaguing him, but it was when he found a palm being pressed against one of his arm plates that it made him tense-- his optics bore into the other person, becoming a somewhat darkened, dull blue in contrast to the brighter icy blue they often had.

" ... please. Don't-- do not touch me. "

[notbecauseofvictories]

one of these days, I will not immediately out myself as a weird person who knows too many facts when meeting new people, or do so repeatedly when engaging with people I know---but not today. (tomorrow's not looking great either.)

[tildeath-douspart]

I wonder if they think of me

[ohsweetflips]

on the one hand i love harping and moaning over missed opportunities for previous dragon age companion cameos bc sometimes bioware really whiffs it (i long for the world where merrill is the eluvian expert instead of morrigan) but. on the other hand. sometimes it’s like. why would that character show up. answer quickly. the answer can’t be that it’s because you like them. it feels very reminiscent of having to accept that our wardens will never make another appearance.

[noisilyscreechingsong]

Disney princess Danny

It’s known that animals can sense death. Instances where pets gravitate to someone on their death bed and dogs barking at ghosts. Danny already knew this from before he half died, so he was expecting animals to rat him out with their sixth sense or become aggressive or cower from him. Instead, they all behaved the complete opposite than he anticipated.

Stray cats come running to rub against his legs, dogs nearly pull arms out of their owners sockets to get close to him, birds bring him trinkets, raccoons lead him to trash cans full of food, and even squirrels and rats get close to just sit on his shoulders. It’s… weird, but not unwelcome. He always loved animals.

Danny had come to semi-trust the animals that come to him. They know where the good food is and drinking water, they know when to steer away from a certain area right before something happens, and they always know when a person is bad or okay. So when an animal leads him somewhere, he follows. Sometimes they need help and he’s the one they go to. He’s helped plenty of raccoons out of garbage bins and cats out of gutters to have a good relationship with the animals of the streets.

What he isn’t expecting is to be led to Robin again and again.

The first time it was a cat. A mangy old Tom cat that rubbed against his torn up jeans and looked back with - Danny swears- a raised eyebrow. Danny follows and soon enough he finds himself standing a few paces away from Robin who is kneeling down to give clean water to the momma cat and her three kittens.

Robin freezes and so does Danny. They stare at each other.

“Um, hi?”

Robin straightens immediately, leaving the water on the ground where the cats can drink. Tom cat swaggers over to guard them.

“Civilian. Is there something I can assist you with?”

The dude is probably a year or two younger than Danny himself and he has to suppress a smile at the formal tone.

“Oh, uh, no? The cat just led me here.”

He can see Robin glance at the Tom cat who was now licking himself.

“Is that so?”

“Yea. Sorry to interrupt. Animals just like me for some reason.”

The three kittens one by one all totter over to him on unsteady legs after they had their fill. The orange one starts trying to climb his pant leg with its short and sharp claws digging into the jean material.

“They really like me.”

He carefully sits down crossed legged so the others could also climb all over him. Robin watches for a moment silently and when he sees Danny react well to the little pricks from tiny claws, he seems it safe enough to return to patrol.

The second time it’s a couple of rats that lure him away to find Robin fighting off more thugs than he probably should by himself. So taking the rats’ movements as encouragement, he takes the closest thing, a piece of plywood, and hit the nearest guy over the head with it. The guy crumbles like a wet sock and Danny is moving on to the next thug.

They sweep the floor with these guys with only a few splinters and a twisted ankle.

“It was dangerous to intervene,” Robin tells him. “I had it handled.”

“Yea, I know.”

The vigilante didn’t seem to be expecting that response from his stunned silence. He straightens as much as he can with bruised ribs.

“Well, I’m glad you know your mistake. Don’t let it happen again.”

Danny neither agrees nor disagrees, just shrugs and allow the rats to climb up his leg to his shoulder. Robin looks at them curiously. Danny gives a salute before leaving. Robin gives him a nod.

The third time it happened the roles are reversed.

Some people from the local gang are bullying the lonely, homeless teen to run drugs for them. They don’t seem to understand the word ‘no’. It gets to the point where Danny finds himself with his back against the wall and all his exits blocked with a guy shoving him again and again.

“Stop it!”

“I’ll stop if you agree.”

“I’m not doing it!”

Frank the raccoon and his buddy Bobby launch themselves at the guy’s ankles. The guy shrieks and pulls a gun.

“No!”

Before Danny can dive for it, a projectile comes out of nowhere to knock it out of his hands. He can’t even process what happened before the three are running away, two raccoons chattering at their heels before coming back to crowd him in worry.

Danny looks up to see Robin with a sword out threateningly, staring at where the three fled. He sheaths the sword after a few seconds.

“Are you okay?”

Danny realizes he’s breathing a little heavy and slows down a bit as he leans over to pet the top of the two heads.

“I’m- yea, I’m okay. Thanks for the save. Those guys were jerks.”

“I’m inclined to agree.”

Robin is staring at the raccoons and it takes Danny a long moment to piece things together.

“Did- did they lead you to me?”

Robin doesn’t answer right away.

“You have loyal friends.”

Danny smiles at the weird compliment. Looking down at the two heroes of the evening Danny is also inclined to agree.

The fourth time is funny in a way Danny doesn’t know how to describe.

It was the pigeons. They were at fault of course for how Robin’s secret identity was outed. By pigeons.

The grey birds swarmed Danny and settled in a cloud of feathers. One holding something in its beak before plopping it down in his lap like a golden retriever. It flaps off as Danny picks up the obvious wallet clip holding quite a bit of cash and a student ID. The card says Damian Wayne from Gotham Academy. Just then Robin comes skidding around the corner, clearly out of breath and freezes.

Danny looks down at the clip in his hand and back up at the vigilante. He looks at the crazy amount of birds around him and again at the vigilante.

Said vigilante straightens and approaches like he called Danny there.

“If I could have that so I could return it to its proper owner.”

He holds out a hand with false arrogance, but Danny can see the nervousness in his stance. Danny looks down one last time before putting the clip in the outstretched hand without a word.

Robin nods once, pockets the ID and money, and immediately leaves.

The fifth time just cements what Danny had already figured out.

He was at the park. Not Ivy’s park of course, the one where people actually like to go. He was helping the squirrels find and hide acorns when he’s nearly knocked over by a massive black dog.

“Titus!”

The end of the Great Dane’s leash is a familiar face. Damian Wayne’s eyes widen in recognition as he finally sees who Titus was so excited to get to.

“Uh-“

Danny has to close his mouth quickly or else the massive tongue on his face would have turned into a French kiss.

“Titus! Heel!”

Danny laughs at the embarrassed blush on the other’s face, obviously not used to his companion going off the rails like this.

“It’s alright. We both know how animals like me.”

Damian narrows his eyes to analyze the teen. Danny wasn’t about to pretend and Damian looked like he was debating whether to follow his lead or not. There was literally no one within hearing distance.

“Have you told anyone?”

Danny thought about redirecting, but thought better of it. He actually liked Robin and what he did.

“Nope. I haven’t and I won’t. I swear.”

Damian tilts his head and then looks down at Titus. He seems to come to a decision before looking back at Danny.

“You’re homeless, are you not?”

Didn’t think they were being that direct but sure.

“Yea?”

“I will pay you in food and shelter to take care of my animals.”

Danny blinks. Then actually considers the offer.

“What kind of animals? How many we talking?”

Damian grins.

The family finds out pretty quickly when a teen they’ve never seen before walks into the Batcave with two pails of food for the bats, Titus at his heels and Alfred the cat perched contently on his shoulders.

Duke stares and Bruce short circuits.

“Um, who are you?”

“Hi! I’m Danny. Damian employed me to take care of the animals.”

“O…kay?”

“And where is Damian?” Bruce sounds like it physically hurts to ask and Danny does not envy Damian’s position right now.

“Upstairs. I think he said he was going to his art studio.”

Bruce marches past the boy to the stairs before stopping abruptly and turning to Danny and Duke.

“Don’t touch anything. Watch him.”

Duke and Danny blink at each other for a moment as Bruce disappears up the stairs.

“I’m Duke by the way.”

Danny grins.

[winterspellsfrozenkit]

One thing I wish was understood a bit better about Twisted Wonderland.

Everyone in this game has trauma or personal struggles and it's NOT a competition of who has it worse. Honestly, sometimes I wish everyone's traumas were discussed more in depth in the game like we get with each person who Overblots, but we don't have time for it. With the Overblot boys, their trauma is shoved directly into the spotlight and we hear exactly how their situations make them feel. But the rest of the cast, ALL of them, have personal struggles and/or trauma. This is just a small list of some of the issues each non Overblot student has.

Ace masks the fear he feels in a lot of situations, and he's got an inferiority complex on some level. Notice how he bullied the player and Grim in our first interaction? That is a sign of someone who is looking to feel better by pushing someone else down because they don't feel good about themselves.

Deuce grew up with a single mother who had to work multiple jobs to make ends meet, which causes him to worry about her, and he was a delinquent in middle school, which made his mom, the one person he worries over, cry. He lives with those regrets, but he's still got those old habits and he agonizes over the fact he's not academically where he'd like to be and his behavior regresses when in heated situations.

Trey has severe trauma at being screamed at for FIVE HOURS over giving Riddle ONE slice of tart, so much that his vitals are severely affected at the thought of Mrs. Rosehearts and he's heavily conflict avoidant.

Cater has had to move all the time and as a defense mechanism, refuses to be honest or get close to people because he doesn't want to get attached only to be ripped away from them.

Ruggie lives in EXTREME poverty when not at school. He struggles to make ends meet and he has to work so hard in a system that is DESIGNED to keep him in poverty, because many beastmen still prefer segregation in the Sunset Savannah.

Jack has one of the healthier mindsets, but he still struggles with being open and honest about his feelings, which makes it hard to have friends, and he struggled with watching Leona, someone he's idolized, fall short of what he believed of Leona.

Jade and Floyd are implied to have grown up in some form of crime family and both seem to have handled the fact their lives could be in constant danger differently. Both like things being interesting, but Jade seems to prefer seclusion and control, while Floyd enjoys scaring people off and having as much fun as he can before he goes.

Kalim is someone who has had multiple assassination attempts on his life, even from his own family. He masks behind a smile, but he's afraid to trust people, and when he DOES TRY to talk about it, it gets brushed off because he has money. Also, he has to deal with the fact Jamil has been undermining his ability to progress by not treating him as if he's capable at all.

Epel has been teased and bullied on how he looked to the point where he started instigating fights to ensure he wouldn't be teased. He also has to fall in line with what Vil wants because he made the error of picking a fight with Vil and getting his butt HANDED to him. To further add, Vil is NOT NICE about it when Epel resists, with one example being Vil grabbing him by the ear and pulling hard as a form of punishment.

Rook has deal with the fact that for being someone who is super perceptive and can notice details, he didn't realize Vil's feelings around Neige, likely because he was blinded by his own admiration for both of them and that's a bitter pill to swallow.

Ortho has to deal with being basically created as a replacement for dead Ortho Shroud, trying to figure out if he's just really a robot made by Idia with really good AI or more than that, and dealing with the fact he loves his brother so much, but his brother doesn't take care of himself and it's disheartening to watch Idia's self-destruction.

Lilia has so much war trauma, losing his loved ones, having been exiled, and so much other crap. Even so, he forced himself to put the war and his trauma about it in the past, where it belonged for the sake of his two sons who both lost so much to war, which is something Baur/Baul could NOT do which was to Sebek's detriment.

Silver has had to live with the idea that his adoptive father would likely outlive him, then is faced with the fact that his father is basically abandoning everything about their life in Briar Valley before he learns that his biological parents were the enemies of the person he serves and cares about, Malleus, and the only father he's ever known.

Sebek has grown up with internalized racism/speciesism against humans thanks to his upbringing and he basically rejects half of his heritage with how he treats his father. He does not even realize how hurtful his comments are until he's faced with those remarks being directed at him by a younger version of his grandfather.

And this isn't everything each student has to face. This is just broad strokes. Yana Toboso wrote a story about flawed people who all have gone through really hard and difficult things because that's the point. As Toboso said in a 2023 interview:

“Happy endings in Disney works come from righteous actions and love, but I believe that the villains are characters who do not get saved during the story. That is why, through this game, I want to portray the message that even if you get beat up all the way to a bad ending, you can grow from it and live your life without feeling discouraged.

Acting lame, obstinate, without hesitation, being open and honest—it’s not as bad as it sounds. 

I would like to paint a positive picture of living honestly with yourself and not worrying about others.

In today’s society there are so many people who live in fear of failure and are always walking on eggshells, but nobody’s flawless. It is exhausting to try to live your life so that no one will hate you.”

Everyone, even people you don't know or do not like, have gone through things that shaped who they are. Sometimes, how we've adapted to handle the bad things that happen will force us to hit rock bottom. But you don't have to die when you hit rock bottom.

You can have terrible things happen to you and have maladaptive strategies to handle your experiences, but you aren't stuck that way forever. You can learn how to change your habits, learn to be okay with yourself, and work at being better than you were the day before.

Human growth is not linear. It's a bunch of taking steps forward and backsliding and learning and making mistakes over and over again and accepting failure, not as a testament to your character, but as part of the process of growth... and that's something all the students have to learn, not just the Overblot boys. Because all of them, every single one, are handling their own personal issues, even if it isn't shoved right in our faces.

[faemurmur]

-> love&deepspace men when you’re on your period

xavier → the silent but devoted caretaker

• doesn’t say much, but he’s already stocked your favorite snacks and painkillers before you even realize you need them. he knows a thing or two about period, he also read that ginormous article written for hunters on their period which was posted publically. “you don’t have to push yourself too hard, little one.” he says as if he’s not requesting. as your mission partner, and mister lumiere :3 he will do anything and everything necessary and possible — that you get your much needed rest and you feel good. <3

• holds a heating pad against your stomach while you curl up against him, letting you steal his warmth. he would also make little bunnies and cute little animals from his evol, which jump around you and help distract you from the pain. he loves to kiss your forehead though, that’s his love language idc. he speaks ever so softly anyway, but during your period you can sense his softness multiply a tenfold.

• if you’re moody, he won’t take anything personally—he just strokes your hair and murmurs, “i know, love. it’s okay.” sometimes you feel bad at how cranky you get but xavier is nothing if not patient. he holds you through it, he would hug you gently, ask you if you’re craving anything . . . ugh he’s just the best boyfriend in the world (trust: source -> sol)

• massages your lower back with slow, firm circles, his touch grounding and steady. “just breathe, sweetheart. i’ve got you.” and he got you. with the way his skilled fingers massage your lower body, purring softly how he wishes you were never in pain… it elevates any discomfort instantly.

sylus → the playful distraction

• teases you at first—“aww, is my little demon suffering?”—but immediately shuts up when you glare at him. he smiles tenderly when he notices the shift in your eyes from the ever-so-defiant menace to a little kitten that needs his attention. he would scoop you up in his arms, carry you to his bedroom and play your favorite shows & musicals. he would hum the musical tones, knowing full well you pretend to hate his voice (when, in actuality you love it). :33

• literally lets you use him as a heating pad. his body is warm, and he’ll let you sprawl all over him if it helps. he’s daddy — which means he’s big. and he’s large & looming enough to be cuddled upto, to be someone you can use as your very own medium-soft mattress. his hands would tenderly massage your booty. his charismatic smirk would tease you with things like, “you know, i’ve heard orgasms help sweetie . . .” what a jerk /aff

• brings you the weirdest food combinations because “cravings are cravings,” and he wants to impress you. “pickles and chocolate? babe, i won’t judge.” what? you wanted to eat something sour earlier and now you demand sweets. he’s got both just in case his kitten’s mood fluctuates. ;)

• kisses your forehead every five minutes and dramatically says, “you’re so strong. so brave. a true warrior.” you roll your eyes at his antics, pretending his overboard affection doesn’t touch your heart. (it definitely does).

caleb → the overprotective pamperer

• wraps you in his hoodie before you can even complain about feeling cold. “there. now you smell like me and feel like me. better?” of course you do. when you got your first period, caleb was there with you. helping you through the cramps, holding you close and talking to you, telling you how sad he is that he can’t share your pain. “oh i know baby, come here.” he croons, letting you know that you can always, depend on him. (no matter what hat he’s wearing) :3

• refuses to let you lift a finger. he gets your water, your snacks, your blanket—everything. would get offended, and have his puppy dog eyes literally steal the thunder when you decide to do something by yourself if caleb is in the house. “pips, told ya to let me help. you’re not supposed to labour.” when you pout and whine, telling him not to treat you like a baby. he would pout harder! accept defeat or else!

• pulls you into his lap and strokes your thighs with his big, warm hands. “shh, i know. just let me take care of you, baby.” it’s so comforting but somehow ends up turning you on too. the way caleb holds you plush against him, his arm wrapping around you as he massages your thighs and your pelvis. “there there — i gotchu pips.”

• lowkey glares at your uterus like it personally offended him. “if i could fight it for you, i would.” you snort, drama king fr. “too bad the colonel can’t really give orders to my uterus.” you snicker, hugging him tightly and basking in his warmth. “too bad indeed.”

zayne → the doctor but also the boyfriend

• clinically speaking, he knows exactly how to help—hydration, light movement, proper nutrition—but he won’t push you if you just want to lay there like a gremlin. though he can’t help but be a little pushy. “i told you to stock up on your iron supplements to make sure you don’t have weakness during this time of the month.” / “a light walk is best suited—“ and when you throw a pillow at his face with a grumble, he knows to shut up. 🤫 (for now), with a tinge of mirth on his face.

• prepares the perfect cup of tea, adding just the right amount of honey. “this should help with the cramps, love.” he has matching mugs with you (he is so husband core), and would share the tea with you, doing a little clink with your matching mugs. “try it, it might not taste that good but it would surely help.”

• strokes your forehead and brushes your hair away, checking in with a soft, “how are you feeling now, darling?” when he comes back from the hospital, finding you curled up in a fetal position breaks his poor heart, he would sit next to you, press soft kisses and give you belly rubs. “what do you want to eat? i’d rather you eat anything. . .” he is sooo in with the junk food consumption shenanigans on your period hehe.

• lets you sleep on his chest while he reads, his steady breathing keeping you calm. he usually likes to read bed time stories to you, its yours and his favorite little ritual. but during your period, his voice is extra expressive. (which isn’t the norm.)

rafayel → the doting prince

• immediately cancels any plans so he can stay by your side. “nothing is more important than you right now.” even if its an art exhibition. thomas can cry and bang his head against the nearest wall — but rafayel isn’t budging. besides, who can control your fishie except you? ;)

• insists you rest while he does everything—cooking, running a warm bath, bringing you silk pillows, whatever you need. rafayel can be a little overbearing at times considering he is very attentive and attuned with his emotions. “rest.” the pouty look in his eyes as he forces you back to bed is to die for. you wonder how beautiful can someone look like that…

• whispers sweet praises into your ear. “my love, you endure so much. let me be your sanctuary.” please rafayel in love is a different breed altogether. he loves you so much you can see it from the way he behaves. you are made of glass. and when you gulp in that nasty tasting tablet for your cramps and aches, he hugs you and praises you like you’ve won the olympics gold medal.

• kisses the inside of your wrist, his voice like velvet. “just relax, my little goddess. let me spoil you.” he does spoil you but with insane amounts of money. calling in chefs from michellin star restaurants just so they can make your favorite food in an authentic way & his baby can eat -> hot, fresh food. “raf, you could just do takeouts-“ you pout softly, to which he chuckles. “nah, takeouts aren’t the same cutie.”