#🌵〈 ic. 〉─── leatherhead

[eyeknowmayhem]

"so if there was like, two guys on the moon and the other killed him with a big ol rock, would that be fucked up or what?"

[eyeknowmayhem]

There's saying crocodile tears, but they have no tears to shed. They really don’t, only the heaviness that gnaws its way through their whole body, a dull pressure behind their chest. It subsides with his words— if only a little. They know he cares, that he’s doing all he can. Living proof in the way he’s holding onto them, nothing but gentle reassurance and unconditional love. It’s how it’s always been, easy as breathing. If only it was easy to accept it.

“It’s, not on you, pa.” It’s on me. No, it’s not. It’s not either of their fault’s it’s the man who attacked THEIR FAMILY in the first place. How could anyone see someone like wingnut and get so scared you want to drive a bat into her skull. There it goes again, anger white hot and crawling up their throat. They breathe in and hold it. Let it pass. They let go of him, stepping back. With their hat pulled over their face, it only hides so much. Not that Leatherhead wants to hide— when did it get so complicated?

They have his promise, the hope things will change- that they will make it change together. They fix their posture. “I know. It’s- uhm. Why I wanted t’help. Because I reckon- I got a better handle on this- and maybe the others don’t gotta risk stickin ‘er necks out.” They doubt every heist will go as well as today did- and it’s better for them to be in harms way than anyone else. Not that they deserve it- they just know what they can handle. Not everyone’s born with scales stronger than Kevlar. “…we should get back to em, shouldn’t we?”

      THE SILENCE THAT follows his words feels SUFFOCATING. He wonders if they buy into his words. Not that they were INSINCERE, but he’s also aware that, unfortunately, sincerity mattered little to a self-deprecating mind. Even if they weren’t to believe him, he’d be helpless to change their mind beyond continuing to reassure them of what he already knew in his heart.  ( They WEREN’T dangerous. The world could go and convince them otherwise, but HE knew they weren’t. They weren’t… )

     Eyes light up slightly when the gator finally approaches him — a hint of hope, a touch of curiosity — and before Baxter knew, Leatherhead was embracing him. He doesn’t hesitate to hug back, wrapping his arms around their shoulders and holding them close  ( it’s strange for him as well, actually being able to reach around, to not have to be on his tip-toes to properly hug them ). The rare occasion he remembers he has extra limbs to work with, it’s to clutch them with smaller arms as well. Their words squeeze his heart tightly, and he shuts his eyes tightly — not wincing at the act itself, but— god. The way they speak of it, the apparent HORROR in their own voice…

      He opens them again, glancing them out of the corner of his compound vision. “ On the contrary. I think it’s good that we’re having this conversation. “ Of course he’d say that. He asked them to be open with him, did he not ?  In any case, a pensive quiet follows that statement. He knows that there is— TRUTH in their statement. The fact is that the risks are much HIGHER for all of them — the consequences potentially more permanent. It’s never something that Baxter’s neglected  ( after all, he was one, small man dealing with creatures far stronger than him. Teaching them how to be gentle was a requirement ), but it’s easy to forget at times, admittedly…

     “ You know I’ve always taught you to exercise caution. “  For a reason goes unspoken.  “ But this wasn’t a failure to do that. It wasn’t a loss of control; it was self-defense. For gods’ sake, what choice was he—— “ He catches himself, stops himself. While he certainly has strong feelings as to where the true blame lies, he knows that’s not contributing anything. Leatherhead blames themself, regardless of whether he disagrees, so there’s not much point in expressing his opinion. Instead, he lets out a small sigh, shaking his head.

“ I’m… sorry. I neglected to warn you of how cruel the world could be, and now you’re paying for it. “ His words are little more than a quiet murmur. It’s…probably the closest that he’s gotten to expressing some of his regrets. And yet, it doesn’t even cover a FRACTION of the amount that he feels. “ But— I DO plan to make up for it. I know it might seem hard to conceive where we are now, but I promise…once I’m through, there’ll be less to fear. Trust me when I say that. “

[eyeknowmayhem]

@z0mburger ❤'d for a one liner

"lil' piece of advice, if yer gonna make burgers with perfectly good roadkill, actually cook it. The rat's still squeakin." quite literally, in this case; the tail twitches where it hangs out from the bone dry burger bun.

[eyeknowmayhem]

❝ i’ve heard so much about you. ❞ leatherhead. (xeversayfishxace)

invincible sentence starters - accepting!

"you're gonna be disappointed mate. I'm not your croc from your neck o'the woods, is all i'm saying." For all these fangled intra dimensional meetups, there were plenty of gators to go around. Still, this is the first time they ever seen a proper fish mutant— with cyborg legs just like wingnut. Night vision goggles obscure most of their expression, but the toothy grin’s all they needed.

"that bloke was bloody massive and had the scars all over his noggin right? yeah, different fella. all these crossovers really makes it hard to keep track innit?" They shrug. “So who are you supposed to be?”

[eyeknowmayhem]

🐔 for leatherhead?

Animal attribute headcanons - accepting

🐔 (Chicken) - If you had to live off of raw meat only, what creature would you prefer to hunt?

“Aw damn, only raw meat? Guess it don’t rule out sushi, but,”

“Eh. Hunting grub’s the easy part. I go fishing, or shoot a bunch of feathery sons of bitches from the sky. If I had to get a preferred kind of meat, we’ll call it rabbit. I set up a bunch of traps or go shooting to catch them furry lil buggers. A real mix of all of em could make for some mean jerky. Assuming the whole dryin deal still counts as raw.”

[eyeknowmayhem]

“What kinda stupid question is that?” It’s Ceasar, him asking about potential murder attempts is like his way of asking about the weather; neither of them normal. So they scratch at their chin. “We went to grab a bite at some place in the big apple n’ almost got our brains bashed out by some looney with a baseball bat. Nasty stuff. Our brother had to knock real sense into him.” And by knocking sense, they mean knock his teeth out. It’s difficult to get the image out of their mind. Still, it’s difficult to tell much of a difference between the ground up meat of sausage and patties to a human’s brain matter— if both were sufficiently tenderized.

They huff, nostrils on their snout flare out then back again. Needs more time to cook, they’re sure. They put the spatula down. “Didn’t kill em, maybe he should have. I wouldn’t have done much better, I’d have chomped his noggin off like one of them tootsie rolls.” They laugh, and it’s hard to tell if they’re joking or not. Hell, even Leatherhead isn’t quite sure. “Guess yer still lucky- don’t got a bounty yet. Not with your legitimate business all up and running.” If a food truck can count as a business… it counts for a health and safety hazard, at least.

CONT'D. @eyeknowmayhem. —

💀 — “ Oh, nah. It's more like, for vandalism, sending freaks to an underground prison for all of time, bullying, cyber-bullying, whipping M&M's at kids' heads ... But my wits and charms do burn asses en-masse. ”

[ Cesare watches the grill intently, scowling at the tender care that's being given to ‘ cooking ’ the meat. he has half the mind to take the spatula and smash it down against the metal grating, but, to each their own technique. ] 

“ But in the olde days, you could get burnt at the stake for getting bangs, so. I'll take the price on my head for being a jackass rather than being a ghoul. It's a good cover. – You got anyone who wants to kill you? ”

[eyeknowmayhem]

plotted starter with @nightwatchr

What started as negotiation with 6 of a crew and one cocky negotiator, is now one commander shy and 5 grown men running for the hills with their tails between their legs- metaphorically speaking. The waterlogged bodega plus mechanic shop’s main doors were open, with splatters of blood and torn fabric leading a trail inside to what the wannabe gangsters were running from.

Leatherhead’s licking their chops, their tongue stuck on satin in gums- eugh! There’s one thing they hate more than this muggy weather, it’s fraying fabric. Or- to be more specific, the fabric fraying inside of their mouth. Taking a toothpick to it all just to mine for jacket threads was not worth the scare they gave ‘em. Their gaze flicks over to the ripped up insignia, the titular purple dragon slashed in two. Well, they think with a toothy grin, maybe it was worth it. If nothing else, they’ll convince superfly to let them go solo more often. Anyone with eyes would be absolutely convinced they’re capable enough for it.

They turn to leave, but not before feeling something shift in the air. They go still, listening for footsteps, or breathing, or-a shadow on the wall. Unlucky lighting from the moon- and they know it’s not their night vision goggles playing a trick on them. Was it the commander coming back for seconds? They knew purple dragons ain’t exactly geniuses, but going round 2 on an armed alligator? It’s only asking for trouble. Lucky, it’s what they deal in, holding back a laugh Stepping out of the shadow of the building, scanning the room.

No way they’ve got the element of surprise. Might as well scare em. “I know yer here, mongrel.” Their voice rumbles low, like a growl of an apex predator. “Why not make this easy on yourself, an’ just give up.” They grab their shotgun off their hip, and they know it’s loaded. As long as they keep their aim steady and never hesitate- it’ll be over before it knows what hit ‘em. Just the way they like it.

[eyeknowmayhem]

Leatherhead: have you ever.. bit anyone? Cuz. Ya know, gator jaws pack a pretty strong punch

“Mate that’s a bloody personal question to ask somebody.” Though they do not seem that bothered by it. The toothpick they have that’s currently cleaning between those not quite pearly whites. “I bit my brothers sometimes when they’re bein jackasses, but that ain’t the same as truly having a CHOMP at somebody.”

The green is all teeth. “Y’know what I mean. The stuff that’ll break your bones. Or, I reckon shatter is the more appropriate word to use.” As if to demonstrate, the toothpick between their fingers snapped clean in half. They laugh to themself. “I mean, in theory, we’re not exactly the regular animals we were born from now are we?”

Leatherhead takes the time to sit more in the direct sunlight- as much as the sewer has to offer, anyway. “And t’ answer your question? Nah. I’ve snapped at a couple o’drongos ankles to watch em scream, but no real biting. You have any idea how difficult it would be to get the damn skin outta my teeth? That’d take fuckin ages. Not my idea of a fun time, no.”

[eyeknowmayhem]

"not sure if that one'll work out. Unless that shelia is secretly another fly mutant or somethin,"

"Like the fly? the david cronenberg film where a scientist's experiment went wrong and he and became a goopy fly monster? played by jeff goldbluem?"

"...yeah, sounds about right."

[eyeknowmayhem]

" A lot of people want to kill me ... I take great pride in that. " [ @ leatherhead! ]

“Is it cause of the zombie stuff? You being all undead, all that rubbish.” Well, the thing is, he acts like no zombie or walker they’ve ever see in the movies. Leatherhead mans the grill— idly poking at the still undercooked meat. It’s one of those cheap ones in the middle of parks. They’d be better off trying to make a damn campfire. “It ain't all that impressive; they're not trippin over your winning personality.” It’s certainly not the Crabby Pattie secret formula.

[eyeknowmayhem]

tag dump 1

[eyeknowmayhem]

"fellas- let's not fight. As a certified gator, that makes me the most dragon-like outta everybody- therefore, th'authrority t'say: rock's a dragon. NEITHER of us are doin chores. sorry bopster!"

“Hell yeah mate. You’re the /best/ dragon I know” -Leatherhead (x) @eyeknowmayhem

[🔨]  "Damn yeah! An' you know what? It's the year of the Dragon, so I get to skip all chores all year! 'coz it's my year!

[🎸]  "OBJECTION! Yer a Dinosaur, not a Dragon! I ain't goin' to be the one to do your chores!!"

[eyeknowmayhem]

“Sorry mate, I’ll get it right next time.” They said with a tinge of bemusement, though difficult to tell. They know he’s got everything he needs in here; the extra pillows, pink lemonade and the soup they made just for him. It doesn’t change he’s still got a cold, and here he was stewing in his own malaise. They take off their hat, leaving it on the beside. Best to make themself comfortable.

It’s Superfly bringing up his lack of nose that sparks their interest. His chest things are still bothering him? There's gotta be something they can do. They lean forward and eye for the chinks in his exoskeleton; where the interlocking parts would have just enough space where the breathing holes should be. There, even up where his “lungs” are supposed to be, on the side of his body. A liquid slowly leaking tinged with a sickly looking yellow and green. “You gotta keep washing it out or it’s just gonna build up. You need me to hoover all that snot right outta ya? ‘Cause I will.”

They grab a towel and try and wipe at it. They can’t imagine how annoying it must be to try and leverage around and do it by himself when he can’t even reach. They make a bit of a dent, though clearly this rag’s only going make surface level progress; it’s probably all backed up. “It could be worse. Rock’s got boogers the size of golf balls, and he just leaves em under the table like a bloody hooligan.” And guess who had to clean up after him? Yeah, Leatherhead. It’s like they forgot germs also apply to them too, just because they’re mutants doesn’t mean they live in a barn. The chair squeaks as they scoot closer, to get more leverage. “Alright, you’re gonna have to tell me where the other ones are cuz I can’t see any of your- yknow." they gesture vaguely. "yer chest nostrils.”

@eyeknowmayhem | CONTINUED.

     SUPERFLY HATES THIS and it seems he can’t help but make it everyone else’s problem  ( not that this is unusual behaviour from him anyway ), openly expressing his disdain in whatever way he could. The fact that his illness decided to line up with Halloween certainly isn’t helping; the fly mutant gets antsy enough around the holiday without sickness stressing him out further. Thank god his siblings were doing the sensible thing and staying home as they should.

     He glances down as Leatherhead pulls up the blanket; he promptly reaches for it with his smaller hands and pulls it up a touch further. His eyes naturally wander back to the television, playing whatever retro horror film he happened to have lying around among the numerous DVDs he’s collected over the years. At least there’s no shortage of entertainment while he’s stuck lying in bed doing absolutely nothing all day.

     “ Creature features, “ he corrects, annoyed. “ And they’re not slop. “ Usually, he’d launch into a whole spiel about how good they are, what with their metaphors and allegories and such. However he decides to save his breath, given that he’s limited in oxygen at the moment.

     “ And you think I ain’t tryin’ ? “ He’s referring to them saying he ought to get some proper sleep. “ It ain’t the same for me as it is for all of y’all with actual noses, y’know. “ Spiracles…ugh. They certainly presented interesting problems whenever they arose. He might as well have had socks shoved in ‘em; that’s how it felt trying to breathe through them right now.

[eyeknowmayhem]

They watch him fall back into the bed like a long suffering prince complaining about his deadly cough disease; their crocodilian features do a damn good job of covering up the huff and the eyeroll behind their goggles. It’s not that Leatherhead doesn’t sympathize with their older brother’s plight; being sick is the worse part of living on this ship. It’s worse than the rats, the flooding, and the occasional edgy teenager trying to make a new art piece by bumming up their walls. No, any time it gets colder is when things really take a turn. Everyone gets the sniffles at some point, and they know to stockpile enough cough medicine and tissues to last all winter — but that doesn’t change that they still get sick.

Like today, what were the chances of Superfly not only catching something, but getting sick as a dog on Halloween? It felt like a joke. Not like their little ragtag team were doing much of anything for tonight. Mondo wanted to set up a bunch of bowls of candy around the ship to make it feel like they were trick or treating — the only one actually trying was scumbug. Wingnut’s cooped up watching whatever odd cartoons in her room. Leaves it all to Leatherhead; no way they’re letting those two buffoons try and play nurse right now. Instead Leatherhead goes to sit in the chair propped next to his bed, pulling the scattered blanket back over the bedside and his stretched legs. Maybe Wingnut left it? She did talk to him last. She’s the only one who’s allowed in his room these days.

“Yeah, I’m thrilled. Don’t need you wasting away cuz you caught a crook, alright?” Their tail thumps to the floor, and they glance over to the entryway. Nobody there. Instead glancing to the wall side of his admittedly sparse room; the light from the small box tv giving the whole room an eerie pale glow. They can push up their goggles and rub their eyes, nodding back over to him. “You’ll feel better after you catch some shuteye, and for real this time. Not sit there watchin the Telly all night. Those critter flicks are just slop to your brain, mate.” Not that they’re immune to some brain popcorn from time to time… but they swear, it’s all he seems to watch.

“I did not bust my ass in the kitchen for you to let this soup get cold” -Leatherhead for the sick fic prompt? Pre movie MM-verse or 07; up to you

     “ I’M EATIN’ IT, dammit, “ the fly snaps back, wings buzzing in agitation — though, the action is weaker than usual, no thanks to him lacking in strength because of this sudden cold that came on. Must’ve been something he caught while running errands, he figures. In any case, Superfly’s far from happy about it; the guy always acts as if the sky’s falling any time he so much as suspects a cold coming on and usually does everything he can to stave it off. Unfortunately, his usual strategy of getting as much vitamin C in his system as possible wasn’t good enough. He certainly tried pushing through it so he could get things done around the ship, but his body ultimately had other plans. So now he’s in bed with stuffy spiracles, a scratchy throat and a bad mood.

     Anyway, he’s not lying when he says he’s been eating the soup that Leatherhead gave him…buuut he’s only eaten a few spoonfuls so far  ( not out of spite; his illness is just suppressing his appetite despite the fact that he’s barely eaten so far today ), and, well, his sibling is now rightfully chiding him for it. He proceeds to pick up the bowl with a scowl, and decides to spitefully veto the spoon as he brings the bowl to his lips, drinking down the warm liquid. An antenna twitches when he does because, hey, to Leatherhead’s credit, it is some damn good soup. They’re easily the best person to have made it; Superfly would certainly be hesitant at best to eat it if it were anyone else.

     When he does put it back down again, a more reasonable amount of soup has been drained from the bowl. He wipes his mouth before saying, “ There. Happy ?“ He winds up leaning back with crossed arms and a huff, his back hitting the numerous pillows that were donated to keep him comfortable. “ …This is bullshit,“ he mutters — not towards Leatherhead whatsoever, but just towards the very fact that he’s ill.

[eyeknowmayhem]

“Mate, the whole bloody kitchen’s a mess. What did you even,” Leatherhead stops. Once they’re getting a full picture, it’s starting to add up in their mind. Flour everywhere, a paperback scattered to the floor. “You were- baking a cake?” The subdued surprise in their voice plenty evident. If Superfly sees this, he’ll be madder than a snake with its tail cut off. Well- that’s not entirely true. He’ll be annoyed about the mess but - well, that’s a future problem. Where’s the broom when they need one?

@eyeknowmayhem

“if you're looking for a baking tutorial ... this is not it.” Slice of life bepop and/or rocksteady? From leatherhead :]

[🎸]  Bebop's mohawk and bristles are dyed white from all the flour that spilled out just moments ago. He snorts disapproving, swirling up more flour in the process.

"Hey, I dunno why this huge-ass bag of wannabe-cocaine was on top of the cupboard, 'kay?! I thought they put the darn recipe book up there!" A short awkward pause, the spilled flour still floating in the air like a fading snowstorm. "Uh-- I ain't needing any of this shit for a cake, right?"

[eyeknowmayhem]

“Mate we don’t need a singer, we got one already,” as if on cue they hear ray down the hall- the sewers really echo, just outside. Leatherhead’s not lookin up from what they’re doing, that is- trying to actually sharpen these kitchen knives. Part of them is relieved they even have real utensils. It’ll be a cold day in hell before they stoop as low as to use a machete to cut their veggies. They may be an alligator but they weren’t raised in a barn,

— raised in a ship, actually. A ship that admittedly had a lot more room than these sewers. Even two stools, one for their tail and the other for the rest of them, they’re still taking up half of the sewer kitchen. Plus the knives on the counter… Ah, well. They won’t mention the logistics of finding room for the equipment; Scumbug can be the reasonable one, for once. (Fuck, that’s a terrifyin thought,) “you’d be a natural drummer. You’re aces at hittin stuff, sure it’s the same thing really.”

The knife edge scrapes against the grinding stone, and they keep it steady. When’s the last time they’ve even been maintained- they don’t want to know. They glance up at Bepop before switching the side of the knife they're sharpening. “Mondo’ll teach ya then? He already knows guitar,” mondo teachin Bepop anything- now that’s a riot. “If ya asked him, I mean. I dunno what that lil bugger’s been up to,”

@eyeknowmayhem [ Leatherhead ]

[🎸🔨] Stockman's Mutants have adjusted quite well to their new life in New York's sewers. It is not like the smells of previous hideouts have been much better, so growing used to that pungent odor was not much of a challenge in the long run.

"Hey, you guys know what we still needin' here?" Bebop's question is just thrown in the room rather than directed at anyone specifically. "Some awesome guitars! An' drums! We gotta do our own music man! You know how cool that would be?"

Rocksteady, sitting next to Bebop on the couch that is still the subject of many bickerings between the two, frowns as he looks at his hands.

"Uh yeah. Can I play the drums? Oh, or maybe I can do the singing?! What do you think?"