#banger headcanon

[anoant]

Another Davekat/Dave sketch dump cause finishing art is hard, I’ll draw someone else soon I swear (lying)

[joonebugg]

I like to think that gaster blasters make some kind of sound that's kinda like a clicking, or some kind of sound that sounds similar to the chiping cats do, when they are happy. :D

MOOT THIS IS A BANGER OMG

MOOTS SEND ME HEADCANONS I LOVE HEADCANONS

[spacebubblehomebase]

"Applemedia only happens because Alastor's in the middle." 😤

Okay. But have you ever considered: "Cartoons are THE BEST???"✨️

Some would even say: "It scrambles the brain!" 😉

This IS how they started, right???

-Bubbly💙

[funniestpersonalivefr]

first kiss (resident evil men headcanons)

just some general headcanons with little blurbs, will write the one for the girls soon i promise. includes; albert wesker, leon kennedy, chris redfield, carlos oliveira, and ethan winters. not proofread

albert wesker:

wesker is a man with very deliberate actions

the decision to kiss you was one he had debated for a while

but for the first time in his life, he just went with the flow

total gentleman about it, not wanting to scare you

he lives for how you react to him and his touch

it's a cold chilly night as your boyfriend walks you to your car in the umbrella parking lot. albert wesker and you had only been dating for a few months. once you two had reached your car, he stood in front of you. his intense eyes hidden behind his glasses but his mouth was in a rare smile, one reserved just for you. as you finished up your small talk, albert's hand reached up, grabbing your chin.

"can i kiss you?" he asked softly. you looked up, face flushed at the question before mumbling out your response, "yes, please."

his lips pressed yours in a soft kiss before he pulled away. he mumbled his goodnight to you as he opened your car door and you swore he was blushing a little.

leon s kennedy:

he's a little mess during this

sure he's got corny one liners at the ready

in reality he's stumbling through his words whenever he tries to be smooth with you

it's cute and you love it so he doesn't let it get to him

he's extremely hesitant, you have to take the initiative

you and your rookie cop of a boyfriend were on the front step of your apartment building. the two of you had spent the night out just taking in the city, you could tell leon was nervous as he stuttered out his words. he was too cute, you reached up and pinched his cheek a little causing his face to flush.

"slow down leon, what's on your mind?" you asked him, giving him your full undivided attention as he began to ramble on again.

"i was just thinking that, maybe, if you're okay with it of course, that i could kiss you goodnight? if not that's totally okay and we can pretend this ne-" you cut him off as you pulled him in for a kiss. his entire body tensed up before he relaxed into it, his hands even finding his way to your waist.

chris redfield:

he takes the initiative

once you do kiss he gets all blushy as he tells you how nervous he was

when the actual kiss happens he doesnt quite know where to put his hands

they settle on cupping your face

he's smiling into it the entire time

the two of you are on the couch in chris's apartment. his arm is around your shoulder as the two of you watch a movie, chris laughs loudly at each joke no matter how unfunny they are. you're resting your head on his shoulder as the movie ends and the two of you are left in the dark room. a soft light barely lighting your features.

at this point the two of you are talking, sitting face to face. chris's hands are resting in his lap now and your faces are getting closer. when the two of you become aware of this closeness, he closes the gap. his lips find yours in a soft kiss. as you kiss him back you can feel him smile, his hands cupping your face ever so gently.

as you pull away, you know he's blushing, you can tell by how he's a little giggle. his voice is soft as he holds your hands in his.

"that was amazing," he says.

carlos oliveira:

he's flirting with you

you've had enough at this point and go for it

and you somehow manage to surprise him

although he's back to being a cocky asshole in no time

he'll tease you for this for the rest of time

you roll your eyes as carlos hits you with another cheesey remark. the man's broad stature walking next to you. you could've sworn he was getting you all worked up on purpose. the two of you get into an elevator, finding it completely empty.

fuck it

you pull him down, slamming your lips into yours. you smirk as you can feel his initial surprise and he's quick to push you back against the wall. he pulls away both of your faces flush.

"just needed to get more of me, huh sweetheart?" he says, smiling down at you.

ethan winters:

he's so nervous and awkward about this

he'd hate to make you uncomfortable so expect to have to initiate

ofc once you ask he is excited just filled with glee

he's extremely gentle, his hands are on your neck pulling you close

gives you a small smile afterwards

ethan and you were just hanging around your house, lounging about. it was a day off for the two of you. you hadn't been dating for more than a few months at this point and things moved slowly. the two of you were slowly leaning in without realizing it as you joked around both of you just enjoying the other's company

ethan was aware before you were, you noticed him stiff up. he had always been shy about initiating things and this was no different. you were confused before your brain processed your face's proximity to his. it felt like the right moment.

"ethan? can i kiss you?" you asked softly. he could feel your breath against his lips as he nodded. his breath hitched in his throat as your lips touched his. he let his hands slide up to rest on the sides of your neck. his lips pressing yours deeply. you pull away, your eyes fluttering open to find his gaze on you. he was completely smitten, his lips curled into a small smile as he laughed softly.

[kagooleo]

here's a finished belated bday comm for @wyvernity of their soulsilvershipping :D!!! I was honestly really happy with the turnout for the piece so I did go a lil ham on their faves (～￣▽￣)～

i've still got 2 commission slots open on my kofi for both chibi and sketch pieces if anyone is interested :V

[anarchy-and-piglins]

I love the image of techno as this immovable object not just bc of his drive and stubbornness but literally. No matter who tries to tackle him he just doesn't budge. Nobody understands how his stance is so fucking solid until they see phil launch himself at techno from full flight to use him as a landing perch. That has been techno's daily training since he first met the old crow. Nothing can topple him. He will never fall.

And what an absolute asset that would be in combat honestly, since a lot of swordfighting relies on proper stance.

[silverskye13]

The Best Seat in the House

Summoning Helsknight is easy. Their souls are so inextricably tangled, they are nearly the same person. It's terrifying. It's exhilarating. Its

Welsknight is flying through the end. He has the coordinates to his destination memorized, like a lodestone in his heart. There is something about a person's blood sweeping so deep into the ground that makes the connection almost physical, like a thread pulling. He thinks this must be what sends doves and pigeons home. Why salmon swim upstream. There's something about blood

It's mutual, this dance. Hatred and disgust and thrill. It's beyond words, somewhere deeper, in the roots of teeth and the marrow of bones. Inextricably tied, souls and blood.

Helsknight is the perfect knight.

Tenets. Poise. Form. Kit.

Bloodlust.

Helsknight is the perfect knight.

They don't talk anymore. They don't need to. Words fail. Words circle and circle and circle and go nowhere.

It reads our thoughts.

Helsknight isn't waiting for him when he lands, but Welsknight can feel him on the other side of everything, like an itch beneath his skin. Like if he just found the right place, the source, where the itch is the most intense and bothersome, he could set a blade to his skin and dig Helsknight out.

In a way, that's what he's doing.

And yet they play the game.

By the time Welsknight has folded his elytra and put on his breastplate, Helsknight is there. The itch in his skin is crawling across the surface, spider legs and teeth; a brand, a flaying. He turns to face his other half.

Helsknight is a perfect knight. He's a fortress, a wall, and he's right there with a sword in his hand. Welsknight's strongest images of him are of blazing eyes in the depths of a blackened helm, all netherite and embers. Maybe it's hels that scours him black, the baking heat and unending fire. Maybe it's just that he's standing by Wels, and Wels is light and life and brilliance and

Welsknight is not a perfect knight. If he were, Helsknight wouldn't exist.

And the universe said the darkness you face is within you

There is something brutally honest about a battle like this, here, bared for the void, and the universe. A person can lie with words, but swords, like angels, can only speak the truth. In the face of death, they can only be who they are.

Helsknight is death and terror. He must be, because that is what Welsknight feels every time they meet.

One step, two, a mirrored circle across the end stone. There is no dust here to kick up, no gravel to throw. This island in particular is stark and flat. No upper hand, no useful terrain. Three steps, four, swords in hands. No shields, only armor, and the places it fails. Welsknight's breaths are long and loud and reverberate in his helm, wash back across his face with heat and condensation.

Helsknight is sparks and smoke and perfect form. The red plume in his helm sometimes sparks with the glimmer of his eyes. There is no moon in the End, and Helsknight's fire is an island of firelight in starry black.

Silence draws out between them like a blade.

Five steps

Six

And the universe said

Helsknight springs first, because he always does. Welsknight can feel his impatience like goosebumps, a phantom thrill of expectation. Welsknight meets him, because to be too far to one side is to be too close to the End. The ringing clash and slithering screech of metal on metal is like lightning and thunder in the perfect silence. They test each other, feints and parries.

Helsknight is impatient, and Welsknight shudders with it. He is always impatient. It's a thirst for blood, and a thirst for efficiency, and pride in the decisiveness of his hand. Helsknight would kill him gladly in one stroke if he could. His is not the joy of suffering, but the joy of superiority.

And yet they play the game

They break apart. Welsknight needs time to recover and reassess. Neither of them is wounded, but Helsknight is powerful and sure, and Welsknight's wrist stings, and his elbow twinges. Too many solid strikes caught instead of deflected. Too many tests done wrong. Mistakes. Too many mistakes.

Helsknight is humoring him. There is derision in the air like the scorn of distant thunder. It makes Welsknight mean, feeling it passing over. If Helsknight wanted, he could press his advantage until Welsknight was off the edge of the world. Welsknight can feel his other half's sense of superiority. It stokes the embers of Welsknight's own pride. He wants to rip the smugness out of Helsknight with his bare hands, bloodied to the elbow.

The red in Helsknight's eyes glimmer, a dare, an invitation. Come and try, he says, come and try. He says it with every line in his body, with the way he holds the point of his sword just a little too far out, a Fool's Guard. An invitation to where the plates of his armor gap at his armpit, reticulate near his waist. An invitation in the tilt of his head, slightly upwards, to look down. Slightly upwards, where the gorget and the helmet separate to show a hint of vulnerability.

Helsknight is a fortress.

And yet they play

One step, two, circling. Swords pointing and guarding. Three steps, four, Welsknight only knows he's caught his breath, because the heat of it is rolling across his face again. His hair is sticky with sweat, and threatens to thread into his eyes. Five steps. Helsknight blinks slowly, boredly. The bloody red light of his eyes winks out and returns. Six steps.

Welsknight attacks first this time. It's a lunge he knows will miss, but he sweeps the blade up anyway and feels the clamor of disrupted momentum as he's deflected away. Helsknight bursts forward a fist and punches Welsknight hard in the center of his breastplate. It kicks away some of his air, surprises him, surprises him again when that same hand snaps up to grab his gorget and pull, threatening to drag Welsknight off his feet. Helsknight's knee comes up and Welsknight catches it, throwing his shoulder into Helsknight's stomach.

They fall hard on the stone.

And yet they

It's tangling limbs, and wrestling, and that little bit of air Welsknight lost is felt, because he can't catch his breath. They're both on top of and below each other. The horizon is yellow and black and stars and stone, twisting. Swords are useless this close, but they grip them desperately anyway, because to lose a weapon is to lose the fight.

Helsknight is the first one who manages to get to his feet. He is a dark tower rising, the kind of thing that eclipses and imprisons. Welsknight can taste blood in his mouth from Helsknight's elbow ringing hard against his helm. His vision is a spattering of stars and colors that aren't supposed to exist.

Helsknight waits, impatient and seething, for Welsknight to get back to his feet. Sometimes, Welsknight wishes the flower of chivalry wasn't so good at reducing him to a pile of steel and guts. He might bring himself to respect it, if it didn't.

Welsknight is tired. He can't catch his breath. His vision still tilts slightly.

Helsknight is a dark tower risen.

Take a breath now.

Helsknight springs. When his sword lands on Welsknight's, it sends lightning through every nerve. Welsknight retreats a step.

Take another.

Another. Another. Metal on metal. Welsknight's only thought as he parries and steps backwards, is that he continue to circle.

I will tell the player a story.

Helsknight's satisfaction is cloying. It fills Welsknight's mouth with a taste like vinegar and rot. Welsknight's guard breaks. He can see his mistake and do nothing about it. Helsknight's sword shivers and rings as it rebounds off his chest plate and plants its tip in Welsknight's armpit, where the plates in his armor gap. The wound isn't deep. It dips in and out of his skin so quick and seamless, Welsknight feels the trickle of blood long before he feels pain.

It contains the truth safely, in a cage of words.

Helsknight's two-handed stroke steals Welsknight's sword from his hands. Welsknight leaps the next sword strike, rolls, and gets a cut on his ankle for his trouble. Standing is a labor.

He still can't catch his breath.

Helsknight's blade has so little blood on it, only the handspan at its tip glitters darkly. Why, then, does Welsknight feel so shaky. Dread of the inevitable prickles his spine, and chasing it like a hound is Helsknight's vindication. I knew I was better, I am always better.

Why do we even play these games?

Sometimes the player dreamed it was lost in a story

Helsknight waits for Welsknight to pick up his sword. He is a shark circling, mad for a few drops of blood. Welsknight stands in the center of the island and waits, turning, for Helsknight to spiral towards him. They are a disaster, a collision course, gravity pulling. They are the inevitable, and their blood pulls them to each other just as much as thought and wit and loathing.

A lodestone in their souls.

Helsknight springs.

And yet they play the game

Welsknight gets a single lucky strike. His sword tears between two of Helsknight's plates, and he feels the soft resistance of flesh against his blade. It's low on Helsknight's hip, painful, but far from deadly. Helsknight proves it by slamming the pommel of his sword into Welsknight's faceplate. If it weren't for the nose guard, his nose would be broken. His eyes still phosphor from the hit, a world of infinite, blinding stars. His feet are kicked out from underneath him.

And the player started to breathe faster and deeper, and it realized it was alive

Welsknight reaches for his dropped sword again. Helsknight doesn't back away from him this time. Welsknight deflects the stab that would have killed him, swings the pommel of his sword against Helsknight's knee.

You. You.

Helsknight drops, a hand on his battered joint. Then he lunges, and they are wrestling again. Blood from Helsknight's wound spatters Welsknight, makes one of his hands slick. He holds his sword in both hands and uses it as a staff, trying to ward away Helsknight's blade locked against it. With the force of his shoving, and the weight of him bearing down, Welsknight's arms are giving.

You. You.

His arms are giving. The crossed blades are too close to his neck. He kicks. He grunts.

Helsknight is a dark tower, the kind that eclipses vision. His eyes are red stars in the dark, distant and bloody.

You are alive.

One of Welsknight's arms collapse. His brief hope this might pitch Helsknight off-balance flickers out before it can really settle.

Helsknight is a perfect knight. Tenets. Poise. Form. Kit. Bloodlust. Bloodlust. Bloodlust. Welsknight can feel it like a wound on his skin. Like blood in his eyes. Like iron on his tongue. Like a netherite blade so close to his neck he can't catch his breath.

I want to help them speak the word they fear.

Helsknight kept his blades sharp. It probably had something to do with perfection. In the moment before blade touches skin, Welsknight searches his other half. He finds what he expects to see.

Disgust at what is happening, and blood and pain and struggle. Resentment at being brought here only for this one thing, for this spiral to an end. Vindication of his skills, pride in his efficiency, disdain for Welsknight's clumsiness.

Welsknight does not find what he expects, as well.

He does not find remorse.

He does not find guilt.

He finds only a subtle annoyance where those things should be, disdain that Welsknight bothers to search at all.

Welsknight smirks. He doesn't need the reminder that his other half is evil, but it is nice to know, even if he's lost, he's still right.

The days were short; there was much to do; and death was a temporary inconvenience.

Helsknight is alone on an island in the end. He is surrounded by the remains of Welsknight's gear, and the spattering of his own blood against the end stone. Whenever Welsknight dies, when they fight here at the end of the world, with nothing to distract each other from each other, it feels like Helsknight has woken up for the first time in a long time. The smothering thoughts, emotions, intensities of his Hermit lift and dissipate, and it feels like he has finally caught his breath for the first time in years.

Helsknight sits on his knees on the stone until his joints ache, and his hip burns, and his leggings are a mess of blood, and he breathes. Long, deep, like cold water in a desert.

Finally, he stands. It takes effort. He has to use his sword as a crutch. But he stands. He looks out at the nothingness, at the end, at the jaws of the universe in every direction.

And the game was over and the player woke up from the dream.

Helsknight snorts derisively.

"I would rather sleep," he says.

He vanishes back to hels.

[foolishsunshine]

I was thinking about all the seemingly mundane things Astarion must have seen while breaking into people’s homes out & about with the party, that inexplicably stirred something within him. Which of those things might he choose to explore, once he finally settles into some kind of normalcy?

I could definitely imagine a world where he’d learned to play piano as a child, but all that was lost to him after his turning at some point or another. Perhaps the muscle memory remained, but the music did not. Does he spend hours in Gale’s tower while he’s at class, practicing, relearning to play? Does he enjoy the technical mastery of perfecting a piece or does he ache to compose; to find a way to express what he otherwise can’t fathom putting into words? I think he’d make a wonderful pianist; he’s got all that dexterity/sleight of hand and literally forever to practice, after all. I think it’d be good for him too — something that can be soothing, distracting, or cathartic whenever needed.

[sleepixgstars]

rip shen jiu, you would have loved "I just murdered my abusive husband" girl country music 🙏😔🤠💔👢🪓

[vladdyissues]

app crashed lets try this a second time

-danny helps beat pariah dark. vlad's ghost instincts kick him to get his attention and attempt to say 'see that powerhouse who happens to be the only other one of our species? we need to have his babies.'

-vlad 'rational decisions? i dont know her' masters decides that means cloning.

-it does not mean cloning

-you ridiculous wet cat of a man

-danny has the same instinct right back of 'hey knocking this weirdo up sounds like a good decision the clone thing is clearly a cry for help. and by help i mean breeding.'

-the inevitable happens after they start hooking up

-look i love drama as much as the next bitch but imagine a dynamic of 'so i was, in fact, wrong about halfa reproduction. ... i'm keeping it, and if that's a problem, i have no problem shanking you in the night' met with 'joke's on you, i'm into that shit!'

-vlad is a total nightmare in the first half. Absolute reversal of the shit in torrent of terror with the added awful of mood swings, usually between clingy and constantly aggravated.

-in the second half? so happy and domestic Danny is actively afraid for his life because this is CLEARLY one of his mortal enemies possessing Vlad and trying to get his guard down.

-kid comes along. vlad is utterly (and literally) obsessed. Family! At long last!

-as soon as the retroactive dulling of bad memories that happens after pregnancy kicks in (actual thing that happens) vlad immediately wants another. it becomes a pattern. that bigass house of his needs filling, daniel

-danny does not have the self restraint to say enough and neither does vlad, but hey, vlads fucking rich, might as well keep knocking that old man up.

-danny tells his parents before kid 2 shows up. jack gets over the conflicted feelings fast and welcomes vlad to the family. vlad suddenly has regrets but too late, frootloop, damage is already done, all your kids are gonna be on jack's family tree.

Yes

YES

YES

[starflungwaddledee]

did you know that coo is canonically lonely? {shipaganza prompt by @veveisveryuncool}

[plasticbabyart]

Idiot boy failure and his lesbian girl best friend, who’s gonna tell him ?

[littleplantfreak]

Dreamcatcher (sfw)

(or who has dreams, nightmares, and anything in between)

Sakura has dreams and nightmares, although most of the time he only remembers snippets. Prone to gasping awake or shooting up into sitting position during nightmares. The type to have dreams about his friends and feel like they’re at fault for what happened. Once he had a dream Nirei stole his food and he wouldn’t let Nirei sit next to him during lunch the next day without telling him specifically he better back off his sandwiches.

Whenever Hiragi has a nightmare, stomach cramping follows. Whether it’s his stomach causing them or them causing further stomach distress, he’ll never know, but he has tea and medicine to settle down before trying again. Mumbles in his sleep on occasion, and it’s really kind of cute.

It’s no surprise Umemiya is a dreamer. Sure maybe once in a blue moon he’ll have a bad one, but for the most part they’re really weird and silly. Loves to talk about them at breakfast the next morning, recounting his time flying with a penguin, or being chased by trolls. He remembers the whole thing usually, though he’s such a deep sleeper that once he’s worn himself out enough and has one of those big, drool inducing rests, he just sleeps with no dreams to be had.

Suo is vague, beats around the bush, and generally likes to joke around. When he tells his friends he dreams in black and white? He’s actually telling the truth! He doesn't have good or bad dreams often, but when he does, he likes to laugh about them in the morning. Something about them looking like he’s watching an old movie makes them all the more funny.

Kaji has nightmares more than dreams, but mostly he sleeps without either. He’ll be in a shit mood the next day though, because the nightmare will have him tossing and turning, trying to find the comfiest spot on the bed that seems to have disappeared in the hour or so it took him to be woken by it. Another sleep mumbler. He can actually sleep with his music blasting in his ears pretty easily too!

Kotoha dreams most of the time. She’ll exchange sleep stories with Ume, but hers always seem to be a little tamer than his. Has a diffuser that cycles through colored lights she’ll put on if she has a dream she deems ‘not great’ and a stuffed dragon her siblings got her that guards her dreams on the nightstand next to her bed. Sometimes she’ll have it on the pillow next to her for no particular reason; it’s just soothing (and so soft and cute.)

[roachesbf]

You already know who it isssssss!!!

If you’re up for it, considering you’ve already done a bear courting fic with König if I’m correct.. anywho, if you’re up to it! Bear!Price.

He’s just so big and hairy, and likely musky with an earthy scent. Probably constantly scenting your room or clothes, sometimes even your person as a whole. Big hands keeping you as close as possible.

He’s so possessive at times, keeping you in big bear hugs as he huffs and growls towards anyone too close for liking. He just wants you to himself, can’t risk having someone else’s scent on you.

The man is a heavy sleeper, and refuses to let you go once you’re in bed with him. Keeping you borderline hostage as he purrs and hums pleasantly.

And he’s big on providing. Living up to his little fishermen’s hat as he constantly goes out and brings you back the nicest fish he could find. He wants to show you that he can provide! The perfect mate, no?

He’s just so big on making sure you’re safe and loved. He wants you to know it too. Doting on you constantly and spoiling you with his love.

Anywhooo, per usual, keep up the amazing work!!<333

- 🪶

Bear Price Headcanons

Hohoho you’re totally right about Price’s scenting obsession, he loves having you wear his clothing. Hats, jackets, shirts you name it, at this point his clothes are your clothes. He’s got such an aggressive scent to others though, it’s almost impossible to not smell him on you since he’s with you any chance he gets. Holding you close or nuzzling his beard into your neck, tickling you in the process. It quite literally makes everyone sick and they complain to him about constantly scenting you but he just looks away and says he has no idea what they’re talking about. 

This mf is so funny though because in his sleep he’ll accidentally roll onto you, a few smacks on his back he wakes up and with a grumbly tone says “Sorry about that love :3” But he’s not sorry at all because he thinks it’s pretty funny and you’re lucky if he doesn’t do it again later that night. If he's not on top of you he’s got you in a strong hold on your waist, keeping you close that he’s practically suffocating you but shittt nobody here is gonna complain.

I feel like he’s very embarrassed about being jealous and possessive, because what does he have to worry about at his grown age. If he was doing something and he saw someone interacting with you in a way he didn’t like, he'd immediately pause whatever he was doing, it’s a simple way of body language to show that he’s distressed. Afterwards he’ll go and wrap an arm around your waist and give you a kiss on the lips before asking what you were talking about. 

If you tease him about it he’ll just gruff and say “So what..” Of course make, him feel better by giving him a kiss on the cheek. It's very sweet and domestic, always managing to calm him down. 

Tbh Price to me is that one image where it’s like my bitch wife tells me what to do, if he sees you being too rowdy, he’s picking you up over your shoulder. Or he’ll place his bucket hat on you, which surprises you so much you don’t even remember what got you acting out in the first place. He also does that to be smug, he knows everybody hates it and thinks it's ugly…but they also simultaneously want it, it's a need. So when you walk in with the hat, they’re just so jealous because how do you have it???

In my heart I know he is a great cook, and it’s one of the biggest things he does to show off to you. Not only is he strong, smart, but he’s an incredible cook. He’d bend over backwards to impress you with his cooking, he also knows cooking is a thing a lot of guys lack in so it’s just another thing he has over others that proves he’s better.  

[avenuequeer]

Gay headcannons, sue me

REMEMBER TO PIRATE!!!

[battry-acid]

it's a crime that seteth never got to have a dragon form