#HEAVY headcanons here

[aceass1n]

Hey. Hey :)

Don't think about the parallels between Ji x Jietong and Kuafu x Yi

Kuafu, who watches his best friend come back from the dead after mourning him for 500 years, who watches Yi throw himself at wall after all, killing himself again and again for the sake of...what? He says it's for retribution, he says it's to avenge all the people the Tiandao Council ruined, he says all these things about righteousness and selflessness and morality—

Kuafu knows, though. Or at least he suspects. This is not about morals. This is about legacy.

Yi comes back from meeting Jiequan, comes back bloody and broken, and Kuafu tries, he tries so damn hard to get through to him. Stop this, Kuafu begs. Why are you doing this?

And centuries ago, millenia ago, Ji stood at the head of an empire poised to fall. He watched as Jietong buried himself in transmutation and warfare and arrogance, watched as he waxed poetic about glory and everlasting might. They watched as everything came down, down, down around them, and they couldn't do a single thing to stop it.

It didn't matter what Ji said. Not really. It didn't matter how hard they tried to stop Jietong. It didn't matter how hard he tried to keep them all alive.

Kuafu and Ji, both damned to survive past the end, both damned to watch from the side as those they love fall like ash. The noose is hung, the stage is set, the frayed string that hangs the sun is poised to snap—

And Yi and Jietong refuse to see it.

How much blood is your legacy worth?

The difference is.

The difference is that eventually, Kuafu gets through to Yi.

It doesn't change anything. Yi still dies. Kuafu still has to watch him die. The thing about tragedies is that their ending is written long before their characters make the decisions that lead them there.

But Kuafu forces Yi to reconsider, to think through his reasoning and his motivations, and Yi...Yi finds peace, or some semblance of it. Kuafu was never alone in his attempts, and it made all the difference. Kuafu and Yi were surrounded by other people who loved Yi, who wanted him to survive, who wanted him to thrive. Kuafu had Shuanshuan, and Ruyi, and Shennong, and Chiyou, and Heng—

But Ji only ever had themselves.

[technically-human]

EEEEE!! I love your stobotnik art sm! If ur open to it id love to see some more art of the pair interacting with themselves/each other in the future? 👉👈

Anyways, (eats ur art)

Stone has some regrets and Robotnik is learning some stuff

ko-fi

[artuurle]

I don't have a silly cheeky comment for this one besides it leans heavily on my headcanons and stuff on Grujaja. (that's how you know ur in the tranches for a character.)

^face of a guy that keeps hurtin his bonds w anyone close to him. Bonus doodles i made while drawing this that are semi related due to being tied to my Gr headcanons unda the cut lol:

[choco-reblogs-stuff-aaaa]

OK OK OK OK OK people talk about sniper, or pyro, or medic being autistic right?

B u t

What if I told you all of them are?

Every single one.

Engineer? He's autistic. Soldier? Autistic. Frickin Spy?? Omgsh he's so autistic

So because my brain won't stop itching about this I'm going to write up a collection of all the evidence I have for why the TF2 mercenaries possess within their beings the big tism. By the time this is over y'all are going to be very sick of the word autism.

But IDC

So without further ado, let's go through each of these silly mercs one at a time:

Scout:

Alright, first up we got Scout. Scout I would consider to be AuDHD for multiple reasons

The ADHD is more obvious but like dude trust me he's autistic too

He's hyperactive, forgetful, gets distracted easily, kind of the basic stereotypical ADHD stuff you would notice immediately. He stims, he fidgets, he struggles in social situations, he's seen as over the top and a bit annoying, he talks a lot

Now a lot of these traits are things that are common for both autistics and adhders. But I wanna point out some things I notice about him that are autism specific

He has a special interest: It's Tom Jones. Honestly he probably has a special interest about baseball too

But I mean c'mon he's literally has a Tom Jones tattoo

You could argue this is just a hyperfixation but I bet it's been going on for a while

He also has "spikey" skills. Really good at stuff like drawing, dancing, sports, but he sucks at things like reading, math, etc

Mostly what makes me see him as autistic it's how he struggles in social situations. Bro doesn't know how to flirt unless he's got a bucket of chicken on hand

Soldier:

Honestly if anyone's autistic coded it's soldier

Special interest is all things American, especially if it relates to the military

Lots of autistic people wear certain items that remind them of something they like, usually disregarding things like how it looks or even whether or not it's comfortable. Soldier's helmet is way too big for him but he's almost always wearing it anyway

In meet the spy he does "hut hut hut" when he's doing down the stairs and it makes me so happy

He has no filter, he takes things really literally, he often sees suggestions as orders (teleporting bread anyone?)

Also when he says he's been doing nothing but teleport bread for 3 days it makes me think he must've been hyperfocused on that

I don't think he knows anything about volume control since he's yelling everything

What kind of neurotypical fights bears in Siberia while naked and covered in honey

He speaks his mind rather than beating around the bush

His helmet could also double as helping him avoid eye contact

Pyro:

Tell me they don't have aversion to like every texture besides their suit you can't

A lot of their animations are super stimmy

Pretty much nonspeaking

Has childish interests

Could also have schizophrenia? (I'm relatively uninformed about it tho so I might not be a good person to judge)

I bet half of their little mmph mmmph noises are audio stims

Special interest is fire

their stim is ARSON

Demo:

I headcanon him as AuDHD too

I mean tbf a lot of how he is is more related to alcoholism but shhh let me have this

But I mean he made friends with Soldier

Special interest in medieval weapons which would explain why he's crazy about swords?

Drinking could be an unhealthy coping mechanism/safe food

Probably also depressed with how he can never live up to his family's expectations

Infodumping about bombs in his introduction video

Honestly most of my "evidence" for him is just fanon but idc I like autistic Demoman

Heavy:

Whether or not him having a PhD in Russian literature is canon, some of his in game lines show him to be very poetic and thoughtful

The fact that he only has a few food items but always seems super happy to be eating them gives me safe food vibes

He sings and hums a lot, probably as a stim

He has the Resting Autism Face™

Special interest in his gun

A lot of his voice lines also just feel really stimmy to me, especially when he's doing the "YATATATATATA" thing

Not sure he has any volume control either

Seems to genuinely enjoy Medic's morbid stories, at least to a point

He really really really really really likes the song of the Volga boatmen in particular

He's the prettiest princess it's canon, you can't be a pretty princess without being autistic /j

He has a tiny bed for Sasha. HE HAS A TINY BED FOR SASHA

Heavy is often criticized as a class because guess gameplay is relatively simple and can become a little stale for a lot of people. Yet Heavy seems to have some of the most excited voice lines in the game. I feel like this emphasizes how much he thrives in routine, since he seemingly never gets bored of just doing his thing

Engie:

He has 11 phds

A lot of his voice lines also sound really stimmy to me. Either he's going YEEHAWW GIDDY UP or he's yelling DAMNIT DAGNABIT DANGIT DAGGIT NABBIT

Probably a lot of echolalia with that too

He humanizes his buildings and cares for them like a mother bird

Just listen to his genuinely heartbroken when his sentry gets taken down!

When playing Engie sometimes I find myself smacking stuff with my wrench even though I KNOW it's already level 3 and maxed and whatnot, or I KNOW I'm out of metal, just because I wanna hear the clang noise. So this point is just me projecting but I love the mental image of Engie giving his things a few extra whacks too

He sawed off his arm for his special interest

His whole monologue in meet the engineer is so autistic sounding to me

His dancing taunt also feels stimmy

He's always hunched over, implying irregular posture

He's a NERD—

Man of many talents including playing the guitar

Never takes those goggles off

How does he turn a stressful TF2 match into a (not so) relaxing tower defense game?

Medic:

I headcanon him as AuDHD too because he seems really scatterbrained and it feels like he's working on several things at once and always

He talks a LOT. definitely an infodumper

Either he's super stern or really giggly, there is no in between

He wears gloves in battle but not while doing surgery??? Does he just like organ textures??? Wacko

Special interest is obviously whatever the heck kinda of mad science he does

Here's a heavy medic headcanon I have: medic likes deep pressure hugs

Another special interest could be his birds

He's very spontaneous which makes me think AuDHD even more

Look how excited he gets when taking about the tumors in expiration date!

He got the organ stealing autism

Is it just me or does he fixate on baboon organs in particular???

Sniper:

I'm pretty sure all of you know why this man is autistic but I'm going to list some reasons here anyway

My main evidence tho are his Halloween voice lines: https://youtu.be/2WDljNAslys?si=JP25VOGGDWwwoCI7

Exhibit a, look how much he enjoys having an owl head

Exhibit b, lots of those voice lines make him sound really freakin' overstimulated

He probably wears the hat and shades for sensory reasons as well as because they look cool

Obviously the most socially reclusive of the mercs

I love his backstory where he learns he never felt like the other kids because he wasn't actually Australian, but what if he also didn't fit in with the other kids because he's autistic?

Also throwing rocks at people as a kid screams autism to me

No neurotypical would ever throw jars of his own piss at you either

I think he just wants to live in the woods somewhere and never come back to society and honestly that's based

I feel like he would be the type to bite his own arm when stressed (just like me fr 😭)

Extremely meticulous in following his own life rules (ie being professional and having standards, driving safely with the turn signal and everything)

Spy:

Ok just hear me out for this one

Smoking because stim reasons

He's literally and figuratively masking

He's very suave and probably really good with social things, but I feel like it looks like he's just practiced really hard, again MASKING

Who knows he might not even actually be French

Who collects photographic evidence for a ur mom joke

I see him as either being hypersensitive or hyper insensitive to pain depending on the day (his screams + "I do believe I'm on fire.")

Mad butterfly knife tricks as a stim? (Notice he couldn't help but fiddle with them even disguised as scout in meet the spy)

He sucks at dealing with relationships and that's one of the reasons he's a bad dad

He actually really cares about his team and you can see it especially in expiration date but he's not very good at expressing it

Do you think he wears the ski mask for sensory reasons too?

Probably has his suits tailored to not give him any sensory issues, which could be another reason he likes them so much

Believe me I could go on but I think this is enough to get my point across

THEY ARE ALL AUTISTIC >:00

[florad0ra]

Disco trolls headcanon yapping

Prince D: "I think your map is a bit outdated" Branch: "Oh he's right look at that, it still has disco"

So, this line in Trolls: World Tour has always kinda bothered me and basically made me spiral one night watching it. How would Branch, a Pop troll who by all accounts is only learning about the other genres in the last 24 hours, know that Disco is an outdated/extinct genre? This is probably just a throwaway line to make the disco is dead joke. but............

Unless, of course, Pop trolls DO know about Disco trolls, and that they are now an extinct genre. Maybe because... For what they know, all that remains of the "disco" trolls have been living amongst them all along

Basically my headcanon boils down to Glitter trolls are Disco trolls that over time have literally been stripped of their genre.

Disco trolls would have left with the Pop trolls after the strings were divided (i like to think that unbeknownst to anyone their own String is hidden in the harp itself, which the pop trolls have, so they're compelled to follow). When the Bergens arrived at the troll tree, the Disco trolls began being picked off at a way faster rate than pop trolls (shiny shiny), establishing Bergentown's very 70s/disco aesthetic as they built their troll-eating society, while subsequently Disco trolls "losing" their own genre due to overconsumption. Eventually, while at the tree they develop the ability to have the iconic glitter farts as a defensive measure, and onwards they become known as Glitter trolls ✨

[nerdyerror]

Chapter 1

Chpt. 2

   “How could you be so stupid? I will revoke the challenge,” Uther rages, pacing behind Arthur. Arthur seethes slightly, two of his men have died to the mysterious knight, “No.” He turns away from his father, he would cave if forced to look in his eyes.”The Knights’ code must be upheld. That’s what you told me.”

“This is different,” Uther insists, he lays his hand on his son’s shoulder turning Arthur to face him, “You are the Crown Prince. Someone will fight for you.” Arthur pales, he can’t lose another knight, “You want me to prove myself. I cannot do that by being a coward.” Uther opens his mouth to speak, but the door creaks open before he can, Leon pokes his head in.

“Ah, my apologies, Sire, I was not aware you were having a private conversation,” Leon says, backing out and going to close the door. “No, Sir Leon, this is perfect timing,” Uther says, beckoning him in. Leon nods.

“You’ve returned from patrol early?” Uther says; it is more a formality than actual interest. Leon holds out a pile of papers, “Yes, I came to deliver my report.” 

“Yes, yes,” Uther says, “I have another assignment for you.” Leon hesitates, his brow furrowed slightly, his eyes glance between the prince and king, “What is it, my lord?” 

“Arthur has foolishly challenged a foreign knight to a duel. One he is not prepared to face. Leon, you are one of my most skilled knights, would you take his place?” Arthur stares for a moment, it’s true Leon is perhaps the greatest knight of Camelot, skilled, and dedicated. They cannot afford to let this knight kill him, it would be a greater loss to Camelot than Arthur’s own death, at least in Arthur’s opinion. Leon only blinks for a moment, “Who is this opponent?” Arthur’s stomach drops, Leon is accepting or preparing to accept. 

Arthur suddenly wishes to leave the room, but he feels rooted to the floor. He doesn’t listen to Uther’s next words, nor Leon’s response. How can he? Leon is Arthur’s cousin, more than that, his friend. And Leon has always been there, steady and sure as the sunrise, the knight that Arthur admires most, (sometimes even more than his father- but that is a private thought he would not admit,) someone who is loyal and kind and gentle. Leon has always treated Arthur well, allowed him to win duels when he should not have, offered advice, and taught him to wield a blade well. The thought that steady sure Leon could quite possibly die in only a day’s time was- (world ending-) impossible. 

Leon observes his soon-to-be opponent with careful dread, he knows the armor well, he knows the crest upon the shield, he knows what Uther dares not to admit. Tristan DuBois, Leon’s father, dead for nearly twenty years. How he was here was unimportant; no, what was important was that he was unlikely to lose, to be capable of being felled. Leon could not face his father, or whatever was left, a wraith, he suspected. It is amusing perhaps, in that sick twisted way, that Uther has knowingly faced Leon against the remains of his father. Remains that Uther had caused. There was an ache in his chest, an ache he knew all too well. He turned his head, he must prepare, and rest was likely the best thing he could do. 

As Leon walks to his room, his thoughts return to the oppressive feeling in his chest. He knows what it is, hate. Hate is the only word for it, a soft dull thing, like the fading embers of a fire, or an old wound, the cause is distant but the pain is alive and well- after all embers still burn and old wounds can kill. Leon has long since lost the energy for righteous fury; it died with his brother, a decade ago. He sighs stopping, right in front of the heavy wooden door to his room, he has kept this room for a decade, his feet know the way. He allows his hands to trace the lines of the wood, before opening it and going to sit on his bed. 

He looks around, his room is as bare and plain as always. The other knights thought him modest or spartan. Too busy with his duties to decorate his room or to befriend. A more cynical man would realize that Leon’s room was as unadorned as Leon was, a purposeful act. He had done it out of fear, never shown who he was, never shown himself in his rooms, or made close friends of the knights. He regrets it now, with the promise of death awaiting him. Which is funny because he had never feared death. It was the one thing Leon did not fear. He shuts his eyes. 

His old desk only holds the various papers he must work on, a quill, and an even older inkwell. His bed has only the plain sheets provided. All of him is in his closet. There is a knapsack tucked away, next to it an ancient family heirloom sheathed and never to be used. The knapsack contains his knick-knacks, the things that identify him as Leon. A small Lion figurine his father had carved for him when he was a newborn, a necklace that had belonged to his mother and then his sister, and a portrait of his family when they were all together. The heirloom- the sword, had been passed down in his mother’s family for generations. It was a work of art and a magical artifact. The sword, by its proper name the Glas Sword, had been burnished in a dragon’s breath. He could not use it for it would reveal his magic. He opens his eyes, standing he opens the closet door, and reaches for the knapsack, pulling out the small rolled canvas. Unfurling it, he looked upon the portrait. 

He traces the figures with his eyes. Starting from the left, Uncle Balinor, his mother’s brother, his hand is on his sister’s shoulder, who sits in a chair in front of him. Mother sits in an elegant chair, her right hand in her lap, her left on the armrest. Father is to the right of Uncle Balinor, one hand covers his wife’s. Uncle and Mother both have a mischievous glint in their eyes. Sitting next to Mother are her parents, Caractos and Adhan. Grandfather Caractos holds an infant, Eleanor, Leon’s sister, her eyes are open and a tuft of blonde hair is visible from underneath her swaddle. Leon is next to them, sitting atop his grandmother’s lap. She has a hand on his shoulder, he was about two and a half at the time, but when he looks at this picture he swears he can remember the feel of her hand. Then to the right of his grandmother is his paternal grandfather, Amlawdd, hands folded in the center of his lap. Behind Grandfather Amlawdd, are his two younger children. Uncle Agravaine, he is much younger than Leon has ever remembered him to be, still stuck with peach fuzz rather than stubble, though he already must’ve been into his late twenties, and Aunt Ygraine, she is smiling, in Leon’s memory she is always smiling, her hands are sat on the corner of her father’s chair, though she looks at the painter. His elder brothers sit on the ground, Patrick is beside Mother, directly below Uncle Balinor, and Andre sits before Grandfather Amlawdd. Uther was not in this portrait, he had not accompanied his wife to the DuBois estate, Leon did not know the reason, nor did he care. 

He doesn’t look at this picture often, he tells himself it is a fruitless thing to live in the past. Most of the people in this portrait are dead now. His paternal grandfather was the first to die, it was when he was a child, and Leon’s memory of him is foggy at best. He supposes that he was technically a child when all of them died, assuming his Uncle Balinor is still alive, though he didn’t feel like a child for most of them. He stopped being a child after his Aunt’s death because that’s when everything changed. Then his mother died, she was already ill when this was painted, she had struggled with Eleanor, and her health had slowly declined. Leon was four when his mother died, but he remembers her with awful clarity. When his Aunt died, Leon was seven, she had only held her son for a moment, naming him Arthur, and then she was gone. Leon had been close with his aunt; she had spent much of her time with her nephews and niece after her sister-in-law had died. He remembers seeing his father cry. A month later Uther announces his plan to start the purge. Father rides to Camelot, Leon slips away from his siblings and follows him. Leon doesn’t see the duel, doesn’t see the fight that preceded it, no he only saw the end of the duel, only saw the sword plunged into his father’s belly. There are ten days before the purge starts in full force. It starts with the murder of the dragonlords, it starts with the death of his grandparents because his grandfather was a dragonlord and his wife had insisted on following him. Leon is eight when his sister dies, she is six years old. And she dies because she wasn’t willing to stand by and watch as Patrick was dying. She had used healing magic, and been discovered. It is a long time till the next death. Andre died protecting Leon, using magic. He had jumped in front of an arrow intended for Leon and was only able to do so using magic to slow time. He was seventeen then, just knighted, on his first patrol as a knight.

He puts down the portrait, he looks at the sword, a blade like this could destroy the Wraith, but the Wraith is of his father and he can’t. Besides the blade is spelled to wield a dragon-knight’s magic, Leon’s magic. He is tired, he should rest.

Merlin has to find a solution before Leon faces the wraith. And he thinks he has, but where convincing Gwen to give him a sword was easy enough, convincing the dragon will be far more difficult. He sneaks down the long staircase, and into the dragon's cavern. He is waiting.

“Merlin!”

“Do you know why I’m here?” He called. “It may surprise you, Merlin, but my knowledge of your life is not universal,” the dragon sassed. “It’s to do with Leon, his life’s in danger, he will die. Unless I can make a weapon that will kill the dead.”

“Leon, hmm?” the dragon said, “So what do you come to ask of me?” Merlin drew the sword, the sound echoing in the cavern. 

“Will you burnish it? To save my friend.” 

“The dead do not return without reason, who has he come for?” 

“Uther,” Merlin said. He knew this would make the dragon less likely to help him, but the dragon would know if he lied.

“Then let him take his vengeance, the wraith will die without my aid.”

“But it’s Leon who’s going to fight him, you have to save him,” he pleaded. 

“And why, young warlock, should I aid him?” the Dragon spoke, he wasn’t really asking, Merlin could tell. Merlin scrunches his face, frustrated, “Leon is the best of the knights, he’s one of the people that makes Arthur less of a prat, if he dies, then Arthur would be changed. Arthur looks up to him, cares about him.” ‘So do I,’ remains silent. The dragon weighs his head, and shockingly, “You make a good point, but if I burnish this sword for the young knight, he must not keep it. It is not his destiny.”

“I’ll give it to Arthur,” Merlin agrees quickly, too desperate to save his friend than to question why Leon too has a destiny. 

With the sword burnished, he runs to the physician's quarters needing to formulate a plan about how exactly to get Leon to fight with the sword. He is shocked to find Leon already sitting there. “Leon! I need to talk to you!” Merlin exclaimed, he doesn’t think as he says his next words, “This sword can kill the wraith, you have to use it!” Leon’s eyes widen almost imperceptibly, then his expression is smoothed over before he gently smiles, “Merlin, thank you.” Leon stands, the knight’s hand comes to the servant’s shoulder, “But I cannot use that sword.” 

“What! But-” Merlin says, cutting himself off when Leon raises his hand, “I wanted to talk to you before it’s too late.” 

“Leon, don’t talk like that,” Merlin frowns. “Just listen to me, please, my friend,” Leon says. Leon goes back to his seat, gesturing for Merlin to sit next to him. There is a pause as Leon seems to think; as if he’s about to broach a difficult topic. 

“I know,” he says, “About your magic.” Merlin is shocked but Leon’s eyes are gentle and comforting, he allows Merlin to process the information, before continuing, “I’ve known since we met,” he sighs, “That’s not all. I have magic too. Nowhere near as powerful as yours but that’s how I know. I’ve known. And it’s not just shown me things like that. You’re my cousin. My uncle’s son.” 

“You know who my father is?” Merlin says, barely processing what Leon just said, it seems impossible, “Who was he? I mean what was he like?” Leon smiles, “His name was Balinor Glastos, he was a dragon-lord, and he was a lot like you.” 

“What’s a dragon-lord?” Merlin asks. Leon begins to explain, “A dragon-lord is the human term for what we are. ‘Man-faced dragons’ is what we call ourselves. We are dragons with human bodies, there’s actually not much more to it. And if you’re the child of a dragon-lord you’re a dragon-lord or a dragon-knight, and vice versa.” Merlin has a million questions, one that Leon had already answered, but he had to stay on track, “I have a ton of questions, but more importantly why won’t you take this sword?” Leon looks away, “I can’t destroy the wraith, even with that sword, I wouldn’t be able to do it.” Merlin wants to protest, Leon is one of the best knights he knows, he could totally beat the wraith, but Leon talks again before Merlin can begin. 

“The wraith is my father. I can’t kill him, even if he’s already dead,” Leon turns his head back looking Merlin in the eyes, “I’m sorry.” Merlin doesn’t know exactly what Leon is apologizing for but, “It’s okay.” 

Leon spends the rest of the night telling Merlin all about his father. And what it means to be a dragon-lord. 

“Then Uncle Balinor set Gorlois’ socks on fire, and he…”

“...Well I’m a dragon-knight, not a dragon-lord, the magic I have is more related to the physical aspects of a dragon’s magic, rather than the intellectual like yours.” 

Leon patiently answered Merlin’s questions, they laughed at old stories and pretended like Leon was not to face his death tomorrow. It was wonderful. But tomorrow came anyway.

Leon put on his armor for the last time. He sheathed the sword, put on his helmet, and stepped out to face his father’s wraith. There is a large audience but the crowd was silent as Leon walked forward. It felt as if all of Camelot was holding its breath. He faced the Black Knight, and the two drew their swords. 

The wraith immediately went in on the offensive, hacking his sword at Leon. Leon parried easily, trying to pretend like this wasn’t the walking corpse of his father. Leon refused to attack, it would waste his energy, it takes five minutes for the cycle of attack and parry to end. The Wraith lands a particularly hard blow knocking Leon to the ground, his sword skips along the arena grounds and the Wraith discards its shield. He scrambles working on pure instinct as he hides behind his shield. He manages to dodge a blow and use his shield to deflect the next. The wraith lands a foot on Leon’s shield, locking its position into place, the wraith raises his sword above his head and- “LEON!” Someone shouts it sounds like Arthur, but Arthur hadn’t been in the stands. The Black Knight is frozen in place. “Leon,” it whispers, its voice a hair louder than a breath. The wraith moves his sword to one hand and uses the other to pull Leon’s helmet off. Leon has lost his grip on his shield, shocked and confused. The wraith hisses, throwing its sword to the side, and then it repeats, in his father’s voice, “Leon.” 

His father moves backward before reaching out and enveloping Leon in his arms, 

“My Son.” 

Leon’s eyes began to water. His father removes his own helmet, looking the exact same as the day he died, “Oh my baby boy, my darling son, my little light! Look at you! Look how you’ve grown!” There are tears streaming down Leon’s cheeks and there are tears on his father’s as well. And then Gaius is there, and so is Merlin, and Arthur, and Gwen, and Morgana. And it’s alright, and Leon is half sure he’s dead, but- 

“Let’s get you two to my quarters,” Gaius interrupted his thoughts, “Make sure you’re alright.” 

[scullcrusher101xd]

so glad the movie finally confirmed tf2 heavy and tf2 soldier as hatred`s real parents!

[penumbra-mayhem]

wolves & ghosts (pt. 2/?)

darlin’ - a trick of the light

pt. 1 // pt. 3 // <1k words

(TW: gore, death, ghosts)

—————————————

There were certain lines Darlin’ refused to cross.

Thinking themself invincible, they usually delved into the dangerous and taboo with reckless abandon and spiteful delight. But when it came to wisps, without fail they’d flatten their ears and run, tail between their legs.

They had seen first-hand what treading into that territory could do to a person, and it scared the living daylights out of them.

Darlin’ laid curled up on the large plaid blanket, their head nestled in Sam’s lap. His broad hand stroked their ears like he was touching magnolia petals, with just the ghost of his fingertips.

They didn’t usually lounge in their wolf, especially in front of company. But, as always, Sam made it easy. They trusted him and were surprised to find they’d grown to trust Vincent as well.

The low rumble of Sam and Vincent’s discussion reverberated through Darlin’s core like gentle thunder. Despite their proximity, the two sounded distant, drowned out by the cracks and pops of the nearby bonfire.

Gazing at the grass before them, Darlin’ was mesmerized by the way the flames made the blades’ shadows waver and warp.

When they looked up at Vincent, they watched as the fire pulled at his boyish features, transforming them into something older and hollower. By the quirk of his inner brow and the way he pressed his thin lips together, Darlin’ could glean a bit of the nature of their conversation.

When they peered up at Sam, they found a reflection of Vincent in his own countenance: thick brows knit together and eyes staring with a glistening intensity.

Suffice to say, they were discussing something serious.

Darlin’ wondered if the two even realized they were awake. They were about to shift back and ask if they wanted some privacy when a flash of light caught their eye. Darlin’s focus darted towards it instinctively and found a silvery hand latched onto Vincent’s.

The air plummeted thirty degrees.

Eyes betraying them, Darlin’s focus climbed up the mangled silver arm until it reached the figure’s face.

They looked young—fresh out of high school if Darlin’ had to guess—but the cut of their clothes and the style of their hair were decades old.

One eye was wide and bulging, fixated on Vincent. The other was missing, along with that half of their face. Their jaw hinged open at an odd angle in a permanent, terror-stricken gape.

Darlin’s stomach shrieked that they were falling, despite their body going completely rigid. Their ears rang with screams or the screech of metal or both, they couldn’t tell.

Thankfully, the figure didn’t look at them; wisps never did.

Darlin’ clamped their eyes shut, but the grating cacophony persisted, as if the wisp was insisting upon its existence. Darlin’ would have whimpered for help, if not for the ragged feeling in their throat. It was as if they’d already screamed their lungs out, and they wondered if maybe they had.

A far away murmur snuck through the noise. They followed it like a light in the dark, soon realizing it was Sam. His head was hovering above theirs as he repeatedly asked if they were ok.

Darlin’ wrenched their eyes open and were embraced by the dark brown of Sam’s worried gaze.

Everything was silent again, just the crinkle of burning logs and the croaking of hidden amphibians. Taking a chance, they glimpsed at Vincent.

He was alone, looking at Darlin’ with concern rivaling Sam’s.

They couldn’t explain. They didn’t dare. It was dangerous for all of them; acknowledging wisps only led to destruction.

So Darlin’ gave Sam’s nose a small lick of reassurance and forced their body to relax. They hadn’t seen anything.

It’d just been a trick of the light.

[sinvulkt]

Please consider

Mini!warwick Jinx

When Jinx get saved from death by Singed in s1, instead of just injecting her with Shimmer, he actually transform her into a werwolf like Warwick, but younger (so you get Warwick and his cub :3.) Because that’s been a proven method to stop dying people from dying apparently.

Silco now has to care for two wolves now. Because this did successfully make Warwick wake up and Silco and him have things to chat about. Whenever he truly become himself again I mean, since that’s no garantee XD

Meanwhile Vi lurks around ~ and is probably gonna get very confused

[evil-gadgeteer]

stupid dumb headcanon:

medic MOSTLY goes by his surname, to the point where he's had long time friends who think his name is ludwig (since it can be both a first and last name)

i also like to think a few of the mercs (after finding out his name) call him herb (i could also imagine a few still call him doc). herbie is reserved for partners.

[marshmellowtea]

the thing is chris would never ever cut off his parents without heavy intervention from his friends and a strong support system beneath him (taps my "raymond and celia are his main source of income and monetary support which makes it hard for him to fully cut them off" headcanon) but even if he did manage to go through with it they'd still be desperately trying to reconnect and control him, celia especially because who is she really without her little Emotional Punching Bag, so she's doing everything in her power to get him back in her life so she has that doting little lamb of hers to punch down on. and ofc chris's perception of love is so warped that he thinks her stalking him is a sign that she's Actually Cared About Him This Whole Time, Guys, No Really! and his friends have to gently break it to him that no, actually, her trying to get him back in her life so she can abuse him more does not actually count as "caring about him", unfortunately :(

[letterlifter]

hi mailman! i was wondering if you had like, a playlist for pacesetter (or both him and firestarter) i was just curious…

hi!!! this is such a fun question…especially considering pacesetter is so tied to music...of course i have a lot of songs and genres in mind for him! i made a collaborative playlist for pacesetter and firestarter a few years ago with another developer, but i think its worth making a more focused one for pacesetter specifically, so here you go!: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2x0TpsV5YGTeGroJxnHsU5?si=a1f38c97aa5f4217

i put a lot of thought and love into it and its listening order. i think turning on crossfade could be fun

i might make one specifically for firestarter some day, but i think firestarter's music taste is a lot more heavy than pacesetter's...more thrashy....though im sure some songs on here FS may have introduced him to, and maybe for some of these songs PS has FS in mind ;--)

[yourflame]

Amy used to be utterly terrified of Metal Sonic, and deep down still kind of is, but as she's grown up and matured and gotten much stronger with her abilities and able to reasonably defend herself against bigger threats, she grew bigger than that fear too. It morphed into a morbid curiosity towards Metal Sonic instead -- like the way one finds true crime shows morbidly interesting.

[flamingator]

TF2 doodle page! Wanted to at least draw every merc on one page to get the hang of drawing them, and see what they looked like in my style! :D

-

Close ups below!

[hecatesbroom]

did I finally manage to write a brand new fic? I sure did!! with many, many thanks to the lovely @eeblouissant for inspiring me with these beautiful drawings of Blanche dipping Dorothy (and the incredibly sweet follow-up with Rose playing the piano, after our chat about this scene!!) I hope I managed to do it justice ;)

Summary

When Dorothy mentions she’s never been dipped before, Blanche and Rose decide to take matters in their own hands.

[ruthytwoshakes]

hey what do you guys think the tf2s would be if they were monsters? I like the idea of harpy sniper and vampire medic,, but there’s not a whole lot of other monster forms for the mercs.

(Besides the freaks of course but those invoke a primal fear in me)