#fresh off the headcanon truck

[afyrian]

your grocery supplier, kita | headcanons

m.list

- watching over your parents’ store is hard - you’re constantly working - whether it be throughout the store or with paperwork - it’s an uphill battle - so when you finally get a break to get the deliveries.. you enjoy it - especially because the delivery guy is quite the sight - he rolls up in a big truck - crates of fresh vegetables and fruits - he’ll unlock the back of the truck, wearing thick leather gloves - always greeting you with a ma’am - ‘anything particularly good this week?’ [you] - ‘well, what’s your favorite? it’s probably that one’ [kita] - totally suave - even if it’s unintentional, it’s just his personality -sometimes he’ll bring an extra thing for you - like a persimmon or a small bag of rice - will stick around for a second to help move stuff inside - usually just so he could talk to you - and this visit comes weekly - until he starts coming in for his groceries - it’s not the closest one to him - but you’re the closest owner to him ;) - giving you a second to just talk to someone - usually on your lunch break - ‘here, just try a bit, it’s with your own produce’ [you] - ‘it’s your lunch, i’ll just eat later’ [kita] - ‘no, i insist kita’ [you] - kita absolutely loves your cooking - and on his days off you eat lunch together - his produce, your cooking - a harmony that works for you 

gen. taglist (open): @eggyrocks @causenessus @applepi25 @softpia

[sunflowersandsapphires]

Self-Indulgent HCs

pairing(s): Frank Castle x fem!Reader, Matt Murdock x fem!Reader, Michael Kinsella x fem!Reader

summary: How each of the boys would care for you when you were sick, headcanons bc i am tired

warnings: non-graphic, general descriptions of sickness (just cold/fever, not covid)

a/n: this month was already rough on my allergies but i came down with quite possibly the worst cold I’ve ever had. (It’s literally so bad i had to use PTO instead of WFH days? I am literally dying.) I wrote this when I was feverish and couldn’t sleep to make myself feel better. I hope someone out there likes it 😭

Frank

I think Frank would worry a lot when his partner was sick.

He’s lost so many people and he doesn’t have a huge circle so i think it takes him by surprise a little.

But he’d do his best to hide his worries by going about his day and comforting you.

He’d get fresh produce from the store and make you delicious soup, pick up tissues and medicine for you, threaten anyone who tried to make you go into work

“Your boss still pullin’ that shit? Gimme the phone, let me talk to ‘em”

He loves being your big spoon anyways but he would not let you go if you looked or sounded ill. You’d be nestled carefully against his chest while he stroked your back until you fell asleep.

He’d keep you entertained by reading to you or watching whatever TV your fever-ridden mind is craving.

Above all, he wouldn’t leave your side until you were feeling better.

The smile on his face the next time you take him out would be brilliant. He’s just so happy that you’re here with him and feeling better.

Matt

Personally, i hate the idea of getting people sick more than actually being sick sometimes but i think this would especially be the case with Matt

His senses are so delicate, I wouldn’t want to fuck with him by being gross and loud or by getting him sick.

But there is no way this man isn’t the biggest self-sacrificing-mother-hen when someone he loves is sick.

He’d sense your illness before you would, and encourage you to take it easy and sleep a bit extra that week (above all, he’s a hypocrite.)

Of course, he’s a bit embarrassed of everything he can do, or maybe you don’t know the extent of what he is capable of, so he plays it off as “you’ve been working so hard lately, sweetheart, you need to take it easy.”

A day or two before the bug hits you like a truck, he’d come over with a bag from the pharmacy that’s just chock-full of DayQuil and Tea and cough drops and like a single bandaid

He poorly plays it off as “uh, your first aid kit was low, remember?”

Once you’re well and truly sick, he’d be stubborn as a mule if you tried to keep him away. You lock him out of your apartment? You wake up from a nap wrapped in a Devil-shaped blanket to find that someone picked your window lock.

At that point, you just cave and let him stay because you are so cold and he’s so so warm.

Mikey

Not afraid of using his puppy dog eyes to get you to stay home or in bed.

Also not afraid of crying wolf and pretending that he’s not feeling well to make you take a break

“Sorry, pet, my head is hammerin’. Think we could lay down fer a bit?”

Combined WITH the puppy eyes? You don’t stand a chance.

Though you usually take care of the housework while he’s dealing with his family’s business, he wouldn’t let you lift a finger until your temperature was normal and your voice came back.

It’s as if you’re the only person that exists to him, he’s running around trying to anticipate your every need.

It’s been a while since he’s dealt with the real world so he might ask Birdy for advice on how to care for a sick person.

Lots of home remedies (idk just vibes.)

He would have you lean against him in a scalding shower to clear your sinuses or draw you a nice bath.

Keep cool water and a cloth by the bed to bring your fever down.

Hand you cup after cup of tea until you have to threaten to tie him to the bed.

“Just lay with me, please”

“Of course, pet. Anything fer ya.”

[whatyadrawin]

The Fruit After the Flesh 18+ -Chapter 11-

Minors DNI!

Masterlist

Approximately 3,545 words

Pairing: Thomas Hewitt (Headcanon) x AFAB reader

This chapters Warnings:  Sexual language, foul language, use of a slur, depictions of violence. This is Slasher smut, be mindful of that and use your discretion.

A/n: This chapter was an intense write, I flew through it and the momentum continued right into chapter 12. I sort of rushed the art a little due to having a bunch of exams lined up this month plus assignments so please be patient. Let me know if you want to be in the tag list. I update chapter progress on the masterlist whenever something changes.

Please enjoy this chapter! I worked very hard on it so reblogs, comments, and likes are appreciated very much.

Tag List: @fan-goddess , @artxasa , @baybaybear1

Chapter 11

                Charlie made you stay on the property close to the house, if you needed to leave in order to work the orchard or check on the construction on your home, you had to bring him or Tommy along with you. After you told Charlie about the incident, both he and Tommy searched the property for clues, footprints, anything to be able to try and identify who it may have been hiding in the forest that night, but they always came back with nothing. It was as if the shadow person really was just a shadow and nothing more, but you knew what you saw, you saw its form very clearly in the dark of the night.

It had been three days since you told Charlie about it, Luda Mae was on edge worrying about you and your safety. Tommy was also being overly protective of you, he watched you everywhere you went when you were outside, he made you join him in the barn to have you near him while he tended to the animals, you didn’t mind spending the extra time near him.

Today was no different from the rest, the sun was bright in the sky with a cloudless expanse of blue surrounding it. You spent a lot of the morning doing laundry, as you finished hanging up the last of the garments on the outside hang line, you heard a call from Luda Mae,

“Hun, can you come in here when your good and done that laundry?”

You respond in agreement, the final clothespin now tightly pinching one of Tommy’s massive white shirts. You step down from the stool and admire the clothes swaying in the gentle breeze, you felt a certain nostalgia for hanging clothes, your grandmother used to have you help her hang the laundry on the line when you were small, and you never forgot the fresh smell of the outside air on the clothes when you took them down for folding.

You walked into the kitchen from the backdoor with the empty laundry basket in hand, Luda Mae was dressed to leave the house, she grabbed her purse and turned to look for you,

“Oh, there you are. I need to go to the gas station today. Charlie’s gon’ drop me off, then he has to go to town and get some things.” She walks over to grab her sun hat which hung on the wall, and continued,

“Thomas’ gonna be out in the barn with them cows while we’re away, one of ‘em needs a hoof trim so he’s gon’ be a while. Can you stay inside ‘til we’re back? I don’t want to risk you gettin’ hurt by some weirdo or nothin’”

You follow her to the main entrance, you felt compelled to ask,

“Shouldn’t I just stay outside with Tommy?”

Luda Mae is now already opening the door, Charlie is honking the horn in the distance to push her along,

“I just wanna be sure you’re safe hun, it’s mighty boring watchin’ a man shave a hoof down, n’ it takes forever to do.” She opens the door to leave but turns and says some final words,

“Every door in this house is locked, as soon as I close this one make sure to lock it and check the door you came in as well. If you’re in the house at least I know you won’t be messed with. I’ll be back in a few hours hun.”

She shut the door and ran to the idling truck while Charlie reamed her out for taking so long. You lock the door as she asked, and head to the kitchen to lock the back door as instructed. You sigh and look out the window at Tommy who was pushing one of the cows’ legs into the holster to prop it up for the trim -I guess I can go to my room and read for a bit-. When you entered your room, you noticed a bit of dust floating in the air, you decide to open the window to let fresh air inside. You went over to one of the bookshelves in the room and picked out a book you never got to finish from high school titled ‘Island of the Blue Dolphins’.

You lay down on your bed to start the book from the first chapter, each sentence reminded you of the past. The book took you out of your head and into someone else’s world, a story from history retold. As you continued to read you grew tired, your eyelids became heavy and before you could put the book down, you were out like a light.

Tommy was still working on the cow, he was gentle and sliced thin sheets off the keratinous layer keeping in mind the comfort level of the cow. He was at it for over an hour, he decided the cow had enough and deserved to take a break. He unhooked the leg and brought the cow out to the pasture with the others, he watched as it happily bounced away to go find a moist patch of grass to munch on. He missed you, and wanted to check in to see what you were up to and get a glass of water while he was inside.

Tommy unlocked the door to the kitchen and poured himself some water which he guzzled down in an instant, as he filled the cup again, he called out to you but there was no answer; Finishing the next glass of water, Tommy went to look for you, calling your name as he moved through each room, but there was never an answer. He felt a chill go up his spine and began searching more frantically, loudly yelling out to you in hopes you were on another floor. He went to your room and knocked on the door, no answer.

Tommy opened the door and looked around the room, he saw your bed was messed up and the window was wide open. You were gone. He screamed for you, running all over the house in case he was wrong about his assumptions but each room he checked was met with dead silence and no one to see. He ran outside, the barn was the first place to look, nothing. He ran to the wheat field, searched around each corner including inside the silo, nothing. He looked in the car graveyard, opening the doors and trunks, searching under the cars, nothing. The final place was the pond, he ran as quick as possible, he looked through the trees and all around the surrounding forest, he searched the dock and the water, nothing again.

Tommy felt like his world was collapsing in on him, he couldn’t find you anywhere, you were taken from him and he wasn’t there to stop it, he was brimming with rage at his failure to protect you.  Now that you were missing, Tommy was hell bent on finding you, he would search to the ends of the earth if he had to, he won’t stop until you are in his arms again.

-

You woke up in a dark room, it was lit dimly with old string lights. The ceiling and walls of the room were made of dirt, like they had been dug into by a shovel, the walls were reinforced by wood beams that the string of the lights would loop around. You felt exhausted, you could barely keep your eyes open and your vision was going in and out of blurriness. You felt like you were laying down on a hard surface, it was cold in this place, -am, I dreaming? Where am I?- You were too exhausted to panic, when you tried to lift your arm to rub your eyes, you realize you couldn’t, you were unable to move your whole body, the best you could manage was just curling your toes or twitching your fingers.

You groan to see if you could speak, you were able to squeak out a noise thankfully. You hear footsteps coming towards where you lay, a smell follows when the footsteps drew close, body odor, really bad body odor. You push out some words,

“Hhhwho, whos…there?” it was weak but audible.

You hear the footsteps come close to you, a chuckle rattles into your ears, someone walks up to your side and looks down at you, their face is too blurry to make out, they speak,

“Nice o’ you t’wake up.”

The voice was familiar, but you struggled to think of the person it reminded you of, you squeeze out another question,

“Hhhh…hhhwho?”

The person kneels down and gets really close to your face, its Dover. You grumble and try to move to get away but he laughs as you struggle.

“Recognize me now dontcha bitch?” his words were pointed, he continues to speak,

“Finally caught ya when those freaks went away. They fucked up muh dang fire and now yer still alive. I intend t’change that.”

You squirm, tears start to roll from your eyes, -why can’t I move? Please let this just be a bad dream- you blink frantically, feeling like if you could just push yourself then somehow you could get out of there. Dover goes over to a shelf area and grabs some ropes, he comes back to you and starts tying your arms and legs down,

“I drugged ya while y’slept in yer nice cushy bed at the Hewitt house.” He ties your hands together and attached the rope to a pole that was behind you,

“Im gon’ wait ‘till it wears off so y’can get the full effect of what I’m gonna put ya through. Payback fer Tilly just up and givin’ everythin’ away t’some whore from Canada.” He ties your feet together and lifts you so you sit upright against the dirt wall next to were you lay.

He walked away and disappeared around the corner, all you could do was cry, as time passed you started to gain your movement back and were finally able to speak. You didn’t remember anything other than falling asleep in your bed with the book, you felt like you were in a waking nightmare. You tried to scream out for help, calling each of the Hewitt’s names in case either of them could hear you, tears streaming down your face as you yelled.

Dover returned, he mocked your screaming and crying and laughed when you stopped, he looked worse than usual, his beard had grown in and was yellowing already, he smelled like he hadn’t bathed in forever. You try to free yourself from your bonds but they were so tight it just cut into your skin the more you struggled, you look up at him as he stood over you, smirking, you ask,

“Why are you doing this?!”

He tilts his head back to chuckle to himself, then says,

“I deserve some fun b’fore I take up the deed to Tilly’s property, I earned it.”

You respond,

“Where did you go after the fire? And where the fuck am I?”

He kneels down to you, his rank smell overwhelming your senses,

“When I saw the fuckin’ Hewitts drivin’ up I had t’run, so I made my way out to an abandoned lot n’ dug this hole so’s I be able t’kill ya without no one knowin’ where I was.” He looked around and continued,

“Seems it worked. Oh, y’can scream all ya want here, no one’s gon’ hear ya.” He cackled and walked over to the table where he got the ropes from,

“Y’see, Im gon’ take pleasure in fuckin’ ya up. Maybe after I kill ya, I’ll give yer body t’the Hewitts, so they can eat it.”

You hang your head down, the tears dripping onto your legs,

“What the hell are you talking about? Just let me go! If you let me go, I won’t say anything to anyone, please!” you had to choke past your tears to speak, you were so scared of what was coming next, you continue to plead,

“Please let me go, please, I don’t want to die.”

Dover just laughs at you, he turns away from the table and is holding a knife, he inspects the edge of it with his thumb as he walks over to you,

“Y’think I’m stupid? I know If I let y’go, those cannibals’ll be after me.” He kneels down and starts to cut away your shirt exposing your bra,

“Y’gon be mighty uncomfortable in the cold down here. Ain’t no comfort comin’ t’ya. While yer awake and alive, you might as well know the truth ‘bout the freaks you lived with.”

You cut in, “What?”

He smirks and continues to tear away the rest of your shirt,

“Those Hewitts, used t’eat people back b’fore the orchard grew. The economy was down, real bad, everyone left town fer greener pastures. Not them though, those dumb fucks wouldn’t leave their big fancy house. Once the food went out n’ deliveries stopped, the animals starved n’ stopped producin’, they ate what animals were left ‘til there was none.” He looked up past his brows at you,

“That’s when they started eatin’ people. Travellin’ folks would be picked off when they came in town fer gas, killed ‘em all n’ cooked ‘em up fer dinner. That big retard one did most of the killin’, he’d slaughter ‘em all then butcher the bodies fer the meat. He’s evil with how many he killed.”

You just sat still, eyes wide,

“How do you know all this? Why didn’t they kill you?”

He ran the knife up your arm, tracing the tip over your skin, he said,

“I used t’be the one deliverin’ gas to the station, only reason they had a fuckin’ store t’begin with. Then when Tilly came round, she hired me on t’start up the orchard. She paid me t’keep quiet. None of it matters now anyway, I’m gon’ report them to the sherriff, and blame them fer ya dyin’”

You yell at him, “What makes you think they won’t hunt you down after I’m dead?”

He laughs,

“They ain’t gon’ get the chance, the sherriff’ll be called b’fore I leave this hole after I’m done with ya”

You start screaming again, as loud as you could just in case any of the Hewitts were nearby. Dover slaps you across the face,

“Save yer screams fer when the fun starts.”

The sting from his slap was panful, you already felt dizzy from the drugs he injected into you wearing off, the slap just made it all worse. You try to struggle again, hoping to possibly get loose form the rope, Dover was now cutting away at your shorts laughing at your efforts to escape,

“Struggle all ya want whore, yer never getting’ out of those knots.”

You curse at him,

“You fucking evil pig, what are you planning?”

He tears away the cloth from your shorts, now exposing your underwear, the chill of the room now giving your skin goosebumps, you feel so cold you shiver. He says,

“I’m gonna take y’apart, piece by piece.” He laughs to himself as he gets up to grab something off the table again.

You wriggle your hands back and forth; you start to feel the rope loosen so you continue steadily wriggling to help loosen it more. You watch Dover to make sure he still has his back turned, you were able to get your hands free, you start to untie your feet while watching Dover. You were able to loosen the rope on your feet and quickly placed your hands back to where they were, holding the rope with them so he didn’t know they were untied, he turned around and had a larger knife with him now.

He came and squatted down to look over your body, he touched your leg and ran his calloused hand up your thigh,

“Don’t know where t’start.” He said as he looked over your legs.

He placed the knifes edge on your collarbone, he pressed in and you winced in pain, he started laughing maniacally, his eyes closed tightly as he threw his head back with glee. Just as he exposed his neck, you punched him right in the Adams apple and he fell backward choking. He dropped the knife to his side as he held his throat, you picked it up and plunged it into his calf, it penetrated and sliced through his muscle and poked through the other side, he clenched his calf with his hands as he choked, trying to catch his breath.

You removed the rope fully from your feet and ran out of the area, you turned the corner and found a doorway made of scrap metal, you fling the door open and start running, barely able to see in front of you. The pathway was at an incline upwards, it led you to a dead end, you looked around for a door and spotted a ladder, you looked up and saw a wooden latch door. You frantically climbed the ladder and pushed up on the door, it opened up to a field with extremely tall grass, you were almost fully out of the hole when you felt a tug at your foot, Dover was behind you pulling you down, it made you fall to the ground above the latch door and he began to drag you into the hole, you screamed as loud as you could.

You were almost pulled in again but you landed a swift kick to Dover’s face with your free foot, he grunted in pain and fell backward into the hole, letting go of your foot. You closed the latch door and ran as fast as you could through the grass, you didn’t know where you were but you knew you needed to put distance between you and him. The sky was dark, it was already nightfall, you were grateful for the heat, it was warming your cold, exposed body. You snuck your way through the grass, being careful to not leave an obvious trail for Dover to find you. You hear his laugh,

“Im gon’ find you bitch! You can’t hide from me!” His words resonated loudly, he was nearby.

You crouch down low and quiet your movements to try and hide in the grass as best you could. You hear him shuffling haphazardly as he floundered around the brush. He was getting closer; you quietly move yourself to a denser area of the field and kneel down as low as possible. You listened for him, his footsteps were inching closer to you, you could hear his heavy breathing and sat as still and quiet as possible when you saw his legs through the strands of vegetation surrounding you,

“Come out lil’ piggy, I’m gonna getcha” he called out for you in a sing-song way, sounding even more unhinged than before.

He was now right next to where you were, you hitched your breath and lowered yourself further into the grass hoping for the best. After a few seconds of just hearing his heavy breathing, he moved on. You waited for a good minute and then when you couldn’t hear his movements again, you quietly snuck away. You continued moving in the same direction, hoping it was going to at least get you to a road, you raised your head above the grass slightly to see where you should go, a forest could be seen in the distance so you made your way towards that, now running as fast as you could.

Just when you reached the edge of the forest you felt your hair pulled back roughly, it made you fall backward and you yelped in pain.

“Gotcha!” he shouted with glee.

Dover dragged you closer to him by your hair, you scratched and clawed at his hand to release your hair. You were at his feet now, he let go of your hair and stood over top of you, he placed his foot on your stomach and stood onto you, you yelled out for help with your last inhalation. He kept applying pressure, now making it hard for you to breathe in, you punched his leg as hard as you could but this just made him laugh loudly. He dropped himself on top of your body, he placed his legs on your arms to prevent you from moving, you gasp for air and let out another scream.

Dover punches your face, you yell in pain and feel dizzy again, his hands are now around your neck squeezing your throat. In this moment, you feel helpless, you can’t squirm enough to get him off of you and now the blood is unable to get to your brain causing you to slowly slip into darkness. As the world around you begins to fade, you hear a low rumbling, like the growl of a wolf. The pressure from your neck is gone and there’s no one on your body, as the blood starts rushing back into your brain you gasp for air, coughing and sputtering as you roll over onto your front.

The sound you heard was no wolf, it was the revving of an engine, a small engine, a chainsaw.

Next chapter-

[r-i-03-17]

Hey everybody, I'm back. I haven't done one of these in a while and I was bored so I said why not I'm making another Yasammy headcanon.

WARNING: This isn't going to be like my other headcanons with individual points, but more like a short story, and this story is going to have IMPLIED THINGS, but it's not gonna be any worse than any of my other headcanons. This might not be everyone's cup of tea,and that's ok, I can make more wholesome headcanons if people want them,but the point of these, at least for me, is to portray these characters as real adults, and as such they do and talk about adult things,but I'll always give a warning on some of my more mature headcanons so people don't have to read them if they don't want to. Read the rest of my headcanons if you want, but I hope you enjoy this one.

It was a crisp and warm morning in Texas at Sammy and Yaz's small ranch home, the sun was rising, the roosters crowing, and the fresh air blowing through an open window in the kitchen. Yazmina Fadoula, co-owner of the ranch and fiance to the owner Sammy Gutierrez, woke up at 7:30 like she did every morning, to find her friend Brooklyn, sitting at the kitchen table, drinking coffee, looking exhausted.

Y: Hey, what are you doing up so early? I don't usually see you until 10:00 am?

B: Couldn't sleep, too much noise. I tried putting a pillow over my head, but the humidity was too much, so I decided to just stay up.

Y: Oh, Koda wasn't bothering you was he? (Koda is Sammy's Rottweiler).

Y: He's usually pretty quiet on his crate, but sometimes he gets worked up and wh.....

B: It wasn't the dog that was making the noise Yaz, it was you two.

Y: US? You mean me and Sammy? What were we......... 😳.

B: Yeah, you guys got a lock for your door, but couldn't soundproof the walls? Don't get me wrong, romance is good for a relationship, and I'm happy for you guys, but you always seem to do this when I'm around, idk if you forget I'm here or what?

Yaz was now thoroughly embarrassed, not only for being "caught in the act" if that's the phrase you want to use, but that Brooklyn didn't get any sleep because of it. Brooklyn noticing the embarrassment, and feeling a little guilty, tried to be comforting.

B: Hey, sorry for bringing it up, what you two do in your room isn't my business, and I shouldn't really complain.

Y: No, no don't apologize. We should be more considerate, to be honest me and Sammy are so comfortable around you, that most of the time we forget you're here. Like we never do that when my mom visits, I guess cause we're afraid of being caught, but with you I guess it's just not as worrying, idk why? Like you're the only one that's ever walked in on us, yet all we did was get a lock.

Brooklyn felt a little weird but also a little endeared about what Yaz said to her, like it was a little awkward, but it also felt nice that Yaz, the definitely more shy and reserved of the group, had been this open with her, especially about something as sensitive and personal as what they were discussing.

B: I appreciate that Yaz, a little weirded out, but glad that you trust me enough to be open about something personal, that means a lot.

Yaz smiled at her and threw on her baseball cap and grabbed the truck keys, while calling Koda to take him in the vehicle with her.

B: Where are you going?

Y: Off to talk to a buddy about soundproofing the walls, might as well since I'm going to work later anyways.

Brooklyn looked at the girl getting ready to walk out the door, and noticed a purple-ish mark on the back of her neck, about the size of a baseball.

B: Looks like Sammy really did a number on you, considering the size of the hickey on your neck.

Y: You think that's bad, wait until Sammy gets up, besides I'll just put my hair down and nobody will know the difference.

Yaz left and about half an hour later Sammy came out, and the entire back of her neck was basically one giant bruise, and it took Brooklyn every ounce of self control to not laugh while Sammy was talking to her. Her short hair covering nothing like Yaz had the luxury to. Luckily Sammy worked from home and didn't have to go anywhere, and that was a blessing and a curse while Brooklyn explained the conversation her and Yaz had earlier, and where Yaz had driven off to.

That was the last time Brooklyn had stayed at the ranch before she died, it was a bitter blow for the entire group, but for Yaz it hit especially hard. So when nobody was around, Sammy inside cooking or sleeping, Yaz would go out on the porch at night, and cry. She would cry for her lost friend, and laugh in the middle of the sobbing thinking about the memories, the last time she stayed at the cabin (the story above) being one of her favorites. Yaz did this for a while in secret until Sammy and Koda caught her one night, both of them seeming to know exactly what was wrong. Sammy holding her and rubbing her back, and Koda laying his huge head on Yaz's lap so she could pet him. Mourning they're passed friend, but growing slightly closer together.

Hope you enjoyed it, see y'all soon

[justyoursicanon]

And here I thought we were different (Only to find out I was wrong)

Summary: A list of times where Spy caught a few details about Scout that makes him realize that maybe he and Scout aren't so different after all.

(A/N: Hi yea so this is based off this headcanon list by @spaghettifromthevoid and hey I thought why not make a oneshot..A very, very long one..) (And @that1randomnamename also wanted to be tagged in this too :])

Translations (Using google translate): cher ingénieur - dear engineer mon lapin - my rabbit

If Spy were to tell the truth for once, it would most likely be about the times he was genuinely shocked by Scout.

There was never a time that Spy would ever have a different reaction to the Scout, it would always be between anger, disgust, or some other default expression he would show to the runner. But after that one celebration on a Friday evening, Spy unfortunately had to rephrase that.

To start off the time, it was mostly cheerful. The team had taken another victory over the BLUs after a rather difficult battle of capture the flag. In short, the BLUs decided to actually make and use a decent plan for once. But as usual, they failed.

With that victory still fresh after everyone returned to the base, they did the usual and celebrated. Heading into the truck that afternoon and driving to the Tuefort to celebrate at the local bar. Or just the one they haven't gotten kicked out yet.

A few drinks into their stay, some of them got a bit tipsy. Engineer was chuckling from time to time between sips of his 6th beer, Soldier was shouting even louder then usual, leading in for Demo to calm him down a bit since he was used to both his and his own drunken state, and surprisingly, Medic who was also giggling a bit as he drank beside Heavy.

But as for someone like Spy, he only sat in a corner of the bar, watching everything from an unusual spot. Drinking away on his own beverage, the bars most expensive alcohol they had at the time. In Spy's opinion, it was shit.

Then, the night got a bit interesting.

Scout was chatting away with Sniper and Pyro, the arsonist nodding their head from side to side leaving everyone clueless if they were even listening to the Scout. And the Sniper, who had only gotten to his 3rd beer of the night due to taking small sips as he nodded along with whatever Scout was talking about.

Now, at times like these, Spy wouldn't give a single shit about whatever his son was talking about. He always thought the boy's interests were... Uninteresting, useless, annoying. But as he dropped his attention to him for a few minutes, his interest had shifted.

He knew Scout was always one for mocking, for fun and games, to be annoying and get whatever attention he could get from time to time. And he would succeed. He always would, especially with those horrible fake accents and statement of mockery the Scout had thrown onto him on the usual.

But this time, the same mocking mannerism he did was different. And this, was what led Spy to think about his opinions on his son. Just a little.

"Man you don't even freakin' know how annoying it was on that one contract I did with Spy! It was somewhere in uh, think it was New Jersey or somethin' and Spy would not get off my ass when I decided to dress up in some normal clothes for once! Like geez man let me wear my polo after working in a literal desert for 4 years!" He heard the Scout rant, a volume that only pitched up slightly as most of the chaos from the other mercenaries died down.

He saw the Sniper nod along as the runner continued. "My polo wasn't even bad! I mean sure it was blue, but we were in New Jersey for crying out loud! He was the one wearing a freakin' red suit and a dollar store ski mask!"

Spy rolled his eyes as the Sniper chuckled and agreed with the Scout.

Then, the next scene had caught him off guard.

He watched as Scout shifted his position on the stool to sit straighter and crossed his legs, only both his elbows leaning on the top of the long table, and he grabbed the straw that was in his BONK! can, and placed the tip of one of the ends of the straw in his mouth. As if it was a lit cigarette.

And for a slight moment, Scout was in a perfect position that Spy would have definitely been in. And Spy had to take a large sip of his drink to calm himself down.

Oh but it didn't stop there.

"Scout you imbecile, Go change out of that ridiculous outfit! Put your hat back on. At least it's something that wouldn't blow our entire cover." The Scout imitated Spy's accent. It was close in a horrifying way. Well, it wasn't perfect of course, but it was close.

Too close.

But it became closer when he watched as Scout continued his actions as he spoke.

The way Scout leaned back a bit as if he was straightening his back,

the straw moving slightly in his mouth as if he was adjusting the taste of tobacco,

and the way his grip-taped hands and crumpled a bit of his shirt in his hands and tug down a bit like he was adjusting a suit.

It was all something Spy had done. And Scout imitated it perfectly.

His whole body froze, the grip on his almost finished glass tightening ever so slightly. He didn't even acknowledge Scout dropping the act to laugh, even with Sniper laughing along with him rather loudly.

But, as soon as they got back to base. He pushed it aside.

It was just a coincidence.

They've stayed together longer in contracts and battles then usual.

But it didn't mean anything, it wasn't a big deal.

Scout is Scout, not the small Jeremy he had in his arms when he was wrapped in a cloth.

Not the Jeremy that wrapped his tiny fingers on Spy's gloved finger.

Jeremy is his son. Scout isn't.

But of course, something decided to prove him wrong.

--

Spy sighed again as he threw another worn out cigarette in his filled tray. One hand taking out his small kit from his suit, while the other continued to hold his small deck of cards.

Skillful fingers casually open the kit in one hand and he plucked out another cigarette, his index and middle finger holding the cigarette while the rest of his fingers put his kit back in his suit.

He inches the tip of the cig towards Sniper, who was observing his own deck carefully.

"Light," He asks, and Sniper grabs the lighter beside the other deck of cards on a spot on the table and quickly lights his cigarette. Spy nodding a thanks.

Both men were intensely focused on their game, Spy could obviously feel those short glares that the marksman would shoot him with. Even though Spy's eyes were glued onto his own deck.

As Spy thought, mentally picking and thinking what his next move is, he could hear every sound around them.

He could hear the tv in the other room playing, the sound of Soldier and Demo's distant laughter coming along. The sound of machinery and sparks flying in another room towards Engineer's workshop. And even the hysterical faint laughter of the Medic in his infirmary.

He moves the cigarette in his mouth, and adjusts the placement of cards in his hands-

"Hey guys have you seen Pyro?-"

"Bloody hell!"

All 3 of them suddenly jump from the sudden noises. Sniper letting out a shout as he backed up in his chair slightly with a loud screech of the chair leg scratching harshly on the floor.

Spy standing up in a flash with his cards falling on the table and his butterfly knife open and faced at the other voice.

And Scout jumping back with a yelp as he takes a few steps back. "Geez man put the knife down! Didn't mean to scare you guys this time, I swear!" Scout defended, his hands still up in the air as he turns his face away from the blade.

Spy lets out a few heavy breaths, while Sniper slightly chuckles.

"Christ, sorry mate. Didn't hear ya one bit, ya sure ya didn't sneak up on us?" "Uh no? I was just walking up to ya as always. Kinda thought you saw me walking up behind Spy."

Sniper bumped his hat a bit to brush his hair back as he let out another raspy laugh.

"Didn't see or hear ya at all Roo. Thought you would have been using your mouth right before sneaking up on us." "I wasn't sneaking up on any of ya this time. Promise."

Spy glared at Scout for another moment, before pocketing his knife and dragging his chair back to sit on it. Retrieving his cards again.

"Pyro is in the workshop with the Engineer." He says as he rearranges his cards, and leans into his chair again.

All 3 of them stay silent for a moment, before Scout lets out a small laugh.

"Alright, thanks!" He says while waving at both of them, and turns to run to the workshop.

Sniper smiles slightly and waves back, before going back to his cards.

"Shuffle again, I saw your whole deck."

"Bugger."

--

"Evenin' Spy, mind doin' a favor for me?" Favors were normal for Spy, whether it be both for business or personal reasons. Most favors he had, and accepted, were always for business.

But this particular favor from the Engineer was... Odd..

"Depends on the favor, cher ingénieur." Spy replied, letting out a puff of smoke into the night air as the cigarette remained in his two fingers. His body continued to lean on the railings of the base porch.

"Well.. Do you mind finding where the kid is? Haven't seen him all day after uh, a bit of a difficult session with Doc."

Spy's body immediately tensed.

He whipped around, the cigarette almost falling, even if it was squeezing in the agent's grip.

"What happened?" He asked, his tone turned firm.

Concerned.

"I don't know the whole story, but what I heard from Medic was that Scout was being a bit hard and harsh on his words when he was explaining some things. Think it was something about his health and how the boy's not going easy on himself recently. But, that's all he's told me after Scout ran out of the infirmary." Spy stared at the Engineer, before sighing. The last of his cigarette's smoke flowing out of his mouth as the sigh continues.

Scout isn't taking care of himself?

"Do you have a clue on where the boy could have gone?" "Can't say I do, nor can the others. None of them have seen the boy all day."

Spy nods. He can feel the cold air of the darkening night slipping through his mask, and flowing through the rest of his garments. If he was alone, he would have shivered slightly.

"I'll look for wherever he could be." He watches as the Engineer lets out a soft sigh and smiles, gently patting the French man's shoulder. "Thanks partner, hope to see you with him once I get dinner done."

Dinner was probably going to be done in an hour and a half, maybe two full hours depending on what Engineer would be cooking, and if Soldier or Pyro end up distracting him in the process.

He'll be able to find Scout in time. How hard could finding the boy be?

It took 2 hours.

2 hours.

It was a miracle that Engineer was only finishing up his cooking, added up with Pyro and Demo fixing the dining table while waiting.

Spy didn't know how, he wanted to know how. But at the same time he couldn't give a single shit because he couldn't find where Scout was.

It was driving him insane.

Insanely worried.

He looked everywhere and anywhere. Every spot he knew Scout would stay both on and off battles, any place Scout would have gone to stay at any time.

But he just couldn't find him.

Spy was on his 10th cigarette as he harshly walked on the dried ground of New Mexico, almost yanking away the cigarette as he puffed out the smoke rather then a soothing sigh.

Where could have Scout gone to?

He was walking up to one of the sheds, a bit of a distance away from the base.

It was old, on the verge of falling to pieces, but Engineer insisted they use the old thing as storage.

He made a face of disgust as he reached the door, inching his gloved hand towards the rusted handle. Before dropping it, and ended up opening the door with a harsh kick.

And once again, with no thought of the possibility, his eyes widened as he found Scout inside.

He was sitting down in the corner of the shed, his legs and knees pressing itself to his chest as he leaned his body to a dusty cloth that was covering what Spy thought was most likely an old sentry.

His baseball cap was messily placed on his head, the front end covering his eyes as a few small strands of his hair puffed out in the back of his head.

He was asleep, Spy figured since Scout would have jumped if someone just suddenly kicked the door open to the point of literally shaking the shed.

He walked over to him, quietly kneeling down to Scout's level, and gently shook his shoulder.

The Scout muttered as he rocked his head to the other side, his hat falling to his side as he let his head hang on his shoulder.

Spy let out a quiet breath.

"Scout. Scout wake up."

Scout muttered again as the words filled the room. His body shifting slightly.

Spy shook his shoulder again, and Scout's eyes started to blink open.

"Wha.. What?-" He asked, letting out a yawn as he scratched his head, his hat falling to the ground in the process.

"We'll be late for dinner, get up. I'll be outside." Spy replied as his gaze softened when he saw him awake. He stood up, dusting off his suit, and walked outside. Standing in the night's air as he waited.

Scout came out shortly after, his dogtags clinking together as he walked past Spy, leaving the French man to roll his eyes and catch up with him on the same pace.

"What happened with the doctor?" He asked. He noticed the way Scout's pace faltered slightly, but didn't stop.

"It ain't any of your business." Scout replied, shoving his loosely taped hands in his pockets as he breathed in the cold air.

Spy opened his mouth again to reply, but then thought about it. Then closes it.

--

1:05 AM

It wasn't unusual for Spy to stay up at such late hours. He had various of reasons to why he would always find himself sitting in his smoking room, the flames in the fire place long gone hours ago, the lights closed and dim, and the rain continuing to pour outside his very windows.

He would also find himself walking down the halls of the base, and sitting in one of the chairs in the kitchen.

It became a normal habit for the man, and he wasn't the only one.

He knows Medic would often stay up late too, being a busy doctor and experimenting on anything and everything.

As well as the Engineer. Such a hardworking man trying to upgrade his precious sentries.

As his shoes barely made hearable clacks on the wooden floor, watching himself slowly walk to the kitchen like always, he hadn't expect to see anyone else in the kitchen at this late time.

But why did it have to be Scout? Why was the first thing he saw when he stepped out of the hallway and into the kitchen was that plain red shirt with its sleeves ruffled and messily pull down? Why out of all of the people in the base did it have to be Scout? He didn't know either. "Oh, uh hey pal. Can't sleep either?" Scout asked as his head finally looked up from hanging, and staring at the table that he leaned forward on.

Spy immediately noticed those tired, empty blue eyes. Why were they so dull tonight?

Spy didn't reply, only nodding once, and walking past Scout and towards the cabinets where their cups laid in.

As he poured the cold water from the pitcher, he could hear the faint deep breaths of the runner. He finished pouring and places the pitcher back in the fridge, taking the cup and leaning on the sink counter as he sips it.

The two laid in silence.

"Mon lapin, why are you awake?" Spy finally asks. Drinking the last drops of his water, before placing the cup in the sink. Once he turns back to Scout, he shrugs as his posture slouches a bit further. "Earlier in the battle, the BLU Demo was being an asshole and kept bombing the spots I always go to when I'm tryna heal." He pauses, and Spy notices his thumbs trying to fidget with each other, but soon stop. Spy suspected he was trying to fidget with his grip tape. But he wasn't wearing any at the moment.

"Every time I turned a corner to hide, just one freakin' second of standing I could hear ticking. And before I could even look, I get blown up." He finished, he leans back into his chair, head raised up to the ceiling and sighs. Both his hands coming up to rub down his face.

"I keep hearing the damn ticking in my head, it's killing me! I'm so beat down already man.." He muttered, and slouched back onto the table.

Spy hummed as he stared at his son, a few minutes passing by with silence.

Before he let a sigh, and slightly rolled his eyes.

"Follow me." He said, turning and walking down the hall again. His quiet clanks fading as he walks deeper into the hall.

Scout's head jumps immediately, and stumbles out of his seat to follow him, hissing slightly at the slight pain in his body.

Spy could hear those rough and heavy stomps on the wooden planks not too far behind him, he sighs and shakes his head, hoping he wouldn't regret this decision.

He reaches his smoking room and opens the door, leaving a crack open for Scout to follow.

He then continues to remove his suit coat and hangs it in a nearby coat rack, leaving him in his white polo while loosening his tie slightly. He could hear the door creak open as Scout enters, and he fetches his lighter in his coat pocket and walks to the fire place.

"Sit on one of the chairs, I'll be with you in a moment." He says aloud, and he could her Scout's unsure 'uhh' somewhere behind him. He grabs a few dusty-ish logs from a small corner in the room, and throws them in, flicking the lighter and setting the wood in flames.

He dusts himself off as he stood up, turning to the small table that had a gramophone, and opens the drawer below it. Slowly picking through the various of records stored inside. "Uh Spy? What exactly am I doin' in ya smoking room?" Spy didn't respond, again. He picks out a vinyl record and gently places the record down on the gramophone, and hums as it starts playing.

Scout stares at the gramophone for a moment, processing the music that was continuing to play.

It was nice. "You can stay here for the night, I considered that the music would help with this... 'Ticking.'" Spy replied, taking a seat on the other chair that was near the fire place.

He watched as Scout's expression turn from surprise, to thankful. A tired smile grows on his face as he leans in the couch to get comfortable.

"Thanks for not being an asshole for once," He hears Scout mutter. Spy rolls his eyes as he also leans in his own chair. "Night Spy.."

Spy wouldn't dare admit the small smile on his face as soon as he saw Scout finally relax and fall asleep in peace.

--

"Aye lad, mind chattin' with ya for a second?"

Spy looked over at the Demo man with a raised brow. They were a minute in before battle started, and everyone was getting ready in Resupply.

"Scout over there seems pretty eh.. Out of it today.." He says as he takes a small sip from his bottle as he nods towards Scout.

Spy follows his movement and spots the runner sitting on one of the benches, leaning on the wall as he messily balances the end of his baseball bat on the ground. Twirling it slightly.

Now his whole position wasn't out of the usual, it was more of his expression.

His face barely showed, indicated, or expressed any emotion. His blue eyes looked dull and fogged as he stared at the wall, and into nothingness.

Spy didn't even think that Scout was capable of doing a poker face.

But what got him to look away in a rush was that Scout's poker face looked almost exactly like his when he was in his youth.

His mouth in a thin straight line, eyes expressed and shown balanced between tired and wide, and his eyebrows barely twitching and basically glued to one spot.

"Scout? Scout are you alright?"

Spy watched as Medic walked over to Scout and shook his shoulder, causing the younger man to shake his head, seemingly snapping out of the expression, and turns to Medic with a more confused look. "Uh yea? What's up doc?" "You were staring at the wall when I called you the first 2 times, are you alright?"

Scout rubbed his eyes and adjusted his cap, then looked back at the doctor. "Yea, yea I'm fine. Just zoned out." He said and waved his hand, standing up as his hand gripped his metal bat as it swung and landed on his shoulder to rest there.

Medic nodded and spoke to him for a while, leaving Spy to contemplate for another few moments.

He didn't have long, before the Administrator shouted in the speakers.

"Startin' to realize he looks like you everyday, huh partner?" Engineer asked, looking over at the Spy with his goggles shining from the light as the doors lift open.

Spy only sighs out a trail of smoke as he drops the cigarette on the floor, and steps on it.

--

The End :]

[mrsbluehands]

The creeps and their ice cream!

Headcanon (x reader)

Creepypasta

Silly Headcanon I had in mind. Who doesn't like ice-cream? (No offense if you don't XD)

Tw: none

Pronouns: Gn

-

Jeff the killer: He's a classic. Chocolate. Or well anything with chocolate. He's a little shameful about it since it reminds him of his childhood when he and Liu would run after the ice-cream truck to get their sweet treats. You can ask to share, but not sure he'll ever give up on his ice-cream.

Eyeless Jack: He can't have ice-cream (it's a monster thing), but I'm pretty sure that if he could he would be as simple as vanilla. He likes the smell of it when you eat yours. Would of course buy you one every time he goes out. He finds it funny when you get some on your nose and cheeks.

BEN drowned: Bubble gum. He's still a child at heart and this colourful ice-cream is making him nostalgic. Please give him one and cheer him up. He'll soon associate his favourite ice-cream with the quality time he can spend with you.

Masky: Mint and chocolate. It's taste is fresh and a little bitter. It reminds him of the cold air of the forest in winter and his long walks with you on his rare days off. He's not a fan of sweetness, but loves the bitterness of the dark chocolate. Will always buy you one too so you can enjoy the moment with him.

Hoodie: Caramel syrup (no. Not because of the colour of his hoodie) with vanilla ice-cream. He likes when the caramel is hot and melts the cold ice cream under. He can eat his ice-cream all year long, this man is never cold. He surprisingly has a sweet tooth, but you're the only one who's aloud to know. If you eat it in the winter, he's wrap his arms around you so you don't get too cold while eating your cold dessert.

Ticci Toby: He's also a chocolate lover but especially chocolate chips. Just a fan of sweet things (unlike Masky). It makes him forget how life is hard sometimes. Will totally feed it to you, but you are both laughing as he gets some everywhere on you face, but on your tongue. At the end you'll both end up with ice-cream in your hair, nose and on your face, but it's a moment you both cherish.

Liu Woods: Vanilla, but he likes when there's a special flavour on the menu too! Doesn't like to take decisions so he always took the same flavour when he went to the ice-cream truck with his brother. When you two eat ice-cream, he asks you to pick something to add on top of the treat. Will trust you blindly, so please don't play with him (Like that time when you convinced him that pickles were good with vanilla, he did accept your apology though).

Jane the killer: (For the aesthetic) Black vanilla. She just loves to colour and the natural scent of vanilla. Nothing to do with the artificial one! If you buy one for her, she'll probably just look at it and won't take a bite because of how pretty it looks. Nothing compares to you though no worries!

Bloody painter: The king of aesthetic, he loves red ice-cream whether it's cherry, raspberry, blueberry... anything as long as it's red he like it. Not much of a sweet tooth, but like the taste of fruits a lot. He might even try to paint with it (spoiler: it won't work). His favourite way to enjoy his treat is with you. If you squint you will probably be able to witness one of his rare smiles as he shyly reaches for you hand.

Clockwork: Any flavour. She is the type to go for the weird limited one that changes once a week even if it sounds disgusting. She's a dangerous woman, what can I say. For that reason, you probably won't be sharing (unless it's really terrible, then you feel bad seeing her face each time she takes a lick). Will also put some on your nose just to have the excuse to lick it off. She thinks you are adorable when you blush.<3

-

Seems like I had inspiration for that one! Hope you enjoyed!

[laratoncito-diaz]

re: my last post: what i think the 118 & co’s spotify wrapped looked like + my reasoning behind them (pt. one)

***this is all just headcanon please be nice 🫶🏽

****also this is a LONG ASS post, so i did put a cut just in case you want to scroll past :)

bobby:

completely based on vibes alone. i was going to add bruce springsteen but i forgot :(. i think that bobby belts in the air tonight on his way to work every morning and if he pulls up before the song is over, he stays in the truck with the windows up until it’s done.

chimney:

idk i just feel like he listens to really bad music. as you can see, to me he is unironically an ice spice fan. i actually fw gwen stefani, but the everybody else on his top 5 is trash imo. obviously, art is subjective, but i feel like 4/5 of his top artists are universally acknowledged as terrible. i also feel like he doesn’t know he has garbage music taste and actually insists it’s superior to everybody else’s. they will not hesitate to put him in check though.

hen:

this is also based off vibes but also kinda pulled from music aisha has put on her story (namely that she is a fan of rap/hip-hop). also hen is canonically a beyoncé fan and i think we should acknowledge that more. it was a toss between noname and rapsody for a moment, but i reeeeally like noname 🤷🏽‍♀️ no hate to my girl marlanna though. in my head hen and buck went to a migos concert together and screamed when they came out. i also think that she was a fan of drake when he first came up, but post-scorpion he kinda fell off so she leaves his newer shit alone. when denny’s in the car she plays age-appropriate common songs for the social commentary and life lessons they provide. because of this denny’s favorite song is currently the light.

buck:

lowkey inspired by obama’s summer playlist, but a little less eclectic because there’s overall less on it. originally i had blackpink and iu on his top artists and songs, but i changed my mind because ptv fan buck is very important to me. i feel like his music taste as a whole has probably been derived from all the people in his life, which is why aaliyah’s try again is number one on his top songs. we know that maddie used to pick him up from school and i cannot get the image of a young buck was in the passenger seat of the jeep singing his heart out to whatever love song he definitely cannot relate to out of my head, sooo…here we are. i have a lot of thoughts about his music taste but that is for another post.

eddie:

this was literally the easiest one i did. i also think he likes corridos but there were too many artists in the pool if i included them so i kept it down to country. i feel like nobody who follows me knows what corridos are, but just know that eddie’s love of corridos is included in pretty much all of my writing featuring him. ofc i had to put selena on there because i love selena and i think that eddie, being the tejano man that he is, also enjoys selena. idk why whiskey whiskey is on there. let’s just say he’s in his edmundo noches era or something idc. he also likes to listen to songs that chris liked when he was little because he thinks it’s funny when he covers his ears and stares out the window, but also a little bit because he misses baby chris in the backseat singing along to florida georgia line. he is very delighted in five years when chris takes his girlfriend to a florida georgia line concert as a date though.

ravi:

this one was harder because Ravi The Landlord definitely listens to the fit and fresh podcast on his way to work in his stupid cybertruck (because i know he has one okay) but also i feel like he has to listen to music, so i took songs off my spotify wrapped from last year. i don’t actually like drake that much, but her loss was my SHIT when it first came out + i do think that ravi very much enjoyed search & rescue. he is team kendrick for all intents and purposes though. unfortunately ravi and i are both sufferers of rod wave syndrome. nobody lets ravi pick the music at any event because he will put on great gatsby. i also think he likes kevin gates but that’s something i will not be addressing today.

[snickerdoodlles]

📚

❤!

so. i have beef with thai university bl's engineering and architect bias. not even about them getting the majors terribly wrong, like whatever movies and shows never get them right anyways, but university majors can tell us so much about a character. is the major something they've always wanted to do, was it picked on a whim, was it picked for their parents, is it a good fit, is it a bad fit, etc etc etc. it can be big insight into the facets of their character (ala the boys from not me) or the things they like and connect over (Kim and Chay from kinnporsche) and more. and while college majors don't have to be like, a big thing or relevant to all characters, if you're in the university genre, you really ought to be thinking about this sort of thing.

which brings me to love in the air: where, ironically, mr. background character Sig gets this development and none of the actual fucking mains do. (lita, i love you, but your writers certainly made choices.) but i'm not here to talk about my beloved Sig, i'm here to talk about my darling Sky.

given that Sky's dorm is absolutely covered in art and he has art reference shirts, i headcanon that Sky actually wanted to be an art major. he loves painting cityscapes and anything with brilliant colors. half his shirts were picked up from museums and event gallerias. but, after Gun and pulling himself back together, the guidance counselor asked one "you want to be an art major? but that's so...risky" and all of Sky's fresh wounds and insecurities slammed into him like a truck and he asked what would be a smarter choice then. the guidance counselor rattled off a list of ""practical"" art-inclined majors and Sky, perhaps drawn to the idea of building something new and lasting, chose architecture.

which! is a pretty good fit for him! he's good at it, he likes his classes, he likes twisting the assignments to fit his own visions. but that's all it is: a good fit he can settle for.

so, the fic proper:

it's third year. Sky's stressed over deadlines and midterms. and Prapai's watching him from the couch, concerned, because he's used to Sky's frantic energy this time of the semester, but this feels...different. but Sky rarely thinks to say things out loud when he's trapped in a storm of negativity, so it's up to Prapai to gently put his hand on Sky's shoulder and ask him what's wrong.

midterms, projects, club paperwork, next weeks' internship interview, Sky thinks. "this isn't FUN anymore," bursts out Sky, then immediately snaps his mouth shut because he did not mean to say that.

and Prapai doesn't let it go. Sky has a model due at 8am tomorrow that's only half-finished, but Prapai pulls him into the other room and gets him a glass of water and they talk. at first, Sky deflects, saying it's just stress, but Prapai hits him with the soulfully worried puppy eyes and next thing Sky knows, he's talking about how he's always loved art and had wanted to be an art major originally, but that's just not the smart thing to do and how architecture is a good place for him, really, he just also sometimes gets caught up in what ifs but really, he's fine. they've been talking for an hour and Sky's model is due in a few hours, but somehow Sky's not even thinking about that as he curls up into Prapai's shoulder and just breathes, feeling lighter than he has in weeks after getting that off his chest.

"so why don't you switch majors?" Prapai asks.

"don't be stupid, i can't do that," Sky retorts automatically.

"why not?" Prapai insists.

"i... but i... you can't... what."

Sky tries to say it'd be smarter if he just finished his current architect degree. Prapai asks why he should force himself through at least another 2.5 years of architecture if he doesn't even want to do it afterwards. Sky blurts out he never said that, then immediately changes the subject to what if he isn't good enough for art. Prapai counters he believes in him and that Sky will grow as he learns more. Sky insists it will take him even longer to graduate and find a job. Prapai says the time will pass anyways.

it's overwhelming. Sky drops the subject and returns to his model, which he only half focuses on. Prapai pulls an all-nighter with him, taking over the actual cutting since Sky's spacing, and encourages Sky to finish his other work. Sky goes to his desk and mostly stares at his assignment. the model gets done but the report doesn't, and when the professor yells at him the next day and asks why he wants to be an architect, Sky just stares at him for a good twenty seconds before going, "i don't." then bows to the professor and walks out.

the transition to an art major isn't fully smooth. Prapai jokes that he'll bribe the entire administration department if he has to to get Sky what he wants and Sky hits him for that, even as he's smiling. the actual switch turns out to be less painful that Sky anticipated (which is a low bar, the switch was growing into a full apocalypse in that boy's head). even his time in university isn't expected to be much longer than he'd originally planned for. it still doesn't take away how nerve-wracking the whole thing is for him because he's very much relying on Prapai to help smooth out any potential bumps. it's all worth it after he takes his first color theory class and feels like he's truly settled in.

sometime later, Prapai's parents have a soiree or dinner party or whatever it is rich people do, which Sky and Prapai also attend (and Sky zones out through the business chatter but delights in being Prapai's arm candy to the jealous), and eventually they wander over to where a small group of people are admiring and praising one of the artworks hanging on the wall. Sky's thinking "ooo art talk instead of business talk," then does a complete double take because that's his art. nearly yanks Prapai's hand off his wrist because what the fuck that's his art people are talking about his art, WHY ARE PEOPLE TALKING ABOUT HIS ART.

"...do you not like it?" Prapai asks, concerned, "i told you that my mom would like it, when i asked if i could give it to her..."

Sky makes a noise not unlike a deflated balloon. "but you! she! you were just being nice!!!!"

Prapai blinks. "my mom's on the board of three art museums, she doesn't bullshit when she says she likes your art."

Sky makes another deflated balloon sound. Prapai gently spirits him away to a private room and Sky Stares at him, confused.

"but i'm... i don't... i haven't grown that much, i'm still learning, i'm not that good..." Sky squeezes his hands, and asks in a very small voice, "they like it?"

Prapai gently squeezes back. "Sky... the person who said your art isn't good"--(they both scowl here, they don't need to say his name out loud to know who Prapai's referring to)--"maybe they said your art was bad not because it was true, but just because it would hurt."

(Sky's face scrunches at that. Prapai holds him as he turns those words over in his mind.)

"do you want to tell them that you're the artist? we don't have to if you don't want to, we can keep it anonymous if you'd prefer."

if takes Sky a minute before he nods and says he wants to tell people it's his work. then Prapai takes him back out and after a few moments of shyness, Sky comes out of his shell and Prapai delights in being his arm candy for the rest of the night.

[[ ask me about fic im not writing ]]

[mogglewrites]

Headcanons for Brat 🌟🍶🥊🌪

Idk I just wanna think about them being unruly and bratty. Could be OOC but yk what these are just stuff that my brainworms bleghed out of their little mouths.

—🌟Luke🌟—

Luke is a type that is so playful all the time that he just won't follow orders. Like an untrained dog or a puppy. He knows how to be good, but he just wants to play a little more. Nipping and biting. He knows how to use his weight to flop around and be lazy when he's in a selfish mood. Expect to suddenly find yourself crushed under his body when he decides to just lie down on top of you and doesn't get up no matter how you ask him.

He's probably the easiest to convince to do something, but the way he submits/agree to do it is also calculated. Luke knows what kind of image he gives off, and he rarely drops the performance. He doesn't do anything he doesn't want to. And I feel like he'd shut the situation down in a really aggressive–but effective–way. If you try to defy him when he's like that and win? That's because he lets you win.

—🍶Jamie🍶—

Jamie is a more classic type of brat that uses insults as a defense. He shoves you away and lashes out, but it's intentionally not hard enough to hurt. He's just testing your patience and see how far he can rile you up before you snap. It's very much cat-like in the way he lets you approach then rejects you when a stray word upsets him. He'll always be gauging your reactions too.

He wants to be the one controlling the flow of events, and if there's not enough drive from the other person, he doesn't want to waste his time. It's go big or go home. He won't be completely 'tamed', but a strong impression is very important with him. Of course, this also means that if he wants something, he's going to be gunning for it at a 110%. You either learn to handle him or you leave. There is no in-between.

—🥊Ed🥊—

Ed is a risky type. One wrong word or move and he'll buck you off. He knows he can handle himself, but being intentionally vulnerable still puts him on high alert. He hits back and he hits hard, but if you're careful enough, he's easier to handle than Luke, Jamie, or Rashid. I enjoyed the animal image of him being a mouse/rat before, but after M. Bison released in SF6, I felt like the image of a horse suits Ed much more. He's fast and flighty, and hits like a damn truck. If you don't want to get trampled, you need to know how to rein him in.

Don't treat him too harshly because he'll fight you off. Don't treat him too gently because he'll get insulted. Have a firm hand and lead him with confidence. Praise is effective, but too much and he'll catch on that they might be empty words. It's like dealing with a big animal. You cannot back down and but you also can't just use overwhelming force to suppress him.

—🌪Rashid🌪—

Rashid is actually feels like an aloof type to me. He's not dangerous at all and is a bit similar to Luke. However, if it's too boring, he won't try to make his own fun. He'll just stop and leave. Trying to hold him down will result in him flitting away even faster. He really suits the image of a bird. Always flying high and flying free. You can get close to him, but it's not a guarantee that he'll stay with you.

Pampering him doesn't work either because he's already used to it (Azam really raised him too well). So you have to use new and 'fresh' experiences to draw his interest, then he'll be an active participant. He's either into it, or not at all. And if you messed up, he's gone like the wind. Once he's interested though, then you'll get the full brunt of his power. The similarity to Luke appears here again, but unlike Luke who does anything but what you want and doesn't care if you do what he wants or not, Rashid will bug the hell out of you in order to get what he wants. Birds are loud, dude.

[bedrockbones]

Trucker au? 🚛

send me an au and i’ll give you 5+ headcanons about it ///not accepting  

for those that dont know this au is a collab with the amazing @technobladesbasement so if yall are not already following her/reading her works go check her out!!

1. technoblade gets tommy a phone about half a year into their travels. the first is a disposable flip phone techno grabs from a truck stop just so tommy can have something. he buys it for tommy because they had gotten seperate in some outlet mall and tommy had gone back to the truck to wait for techno and techno....to put it lightly, did not take tommys absence well

2. tommy doesnt like letting techno go into the gas stations alone. just because hes noticed the hybrid has a tendency to buy ridiculous amounts of bedding and blankets while driven by his instincts. techno doesnt like letting tommy go with him because his runt is exposed but tommy will usually soothe this by commenting about how safe he feels with techno. its a balance

3. another thing is the gas station food. techno absolutely refuses to let tommy eat anything there except snacks or candy. this is because of the one time tommy had been hungry and they decided a quick hot dog would be easier than finding a restaurant with a lot that could fit the truck. they both regretted that when tommy gets food sickness later that night and is stuck on the side of the freeway upchucking his guts. technoblade still hasnt fully forgiven himself for that despite tommy telling him over and over its fine and that hot dog tasted good so who cares? (techno. techno cares)

4. tommy has a thing. about being cared for. its easier now because techno doesnt really give him a choice about being taken care of but theres still days where dreams snarled insults ring heavy in tommys ears and the feel of the man’s fists are fresh in his mind. its those nights that tommy feels the strain of his situation. because he cant stand technos affection or doting and techno doesnt know how to help otherwise. it would be easier if techno just, ignored tommys boundaries and hugged him anyway or pretended he didnt know tommy is upset, but techno doesnt do that. he asks what tommy needs and respects his space. he’ll sleep on the driver’s chair if tommy wanted him to. but even that is a form of love tommy doesn’t know how to process. it leaves him floundering. it leaves him aching. 

but techno is there to comfort him. he always is. its a reassuring security just as much as its a heavy chain tying him down. techno will always be there for tommy. even if tommy doesnt want him to be

5. phil “babysits” for techno sometimes when theyre in town. phil has a love-hate relationship with the whole scenario because he wants tommy to like him. really he does! and he thinks its funny how jealous techno gets when phil provides for tommy and its even more funny when techno tries to hide that hes jealous. but the problem comes when techno goes out to run errands. he messages phil. every. damn. minute. asking about tommy. asking for pictures of tommy. sending pictures to phil to send to tommy about some random garbage trinket he thinks tommy would like. phil would try to be more understanding about it if tommy wasnt also fed up with the piglin hybrids antics. everytime phil tries to show tommy a photo, tommy asks with a resigned look in his eyes if its another blanket

thats not even taking into account how many times techno calls them. really, phil is getting this close to turning his phone off. he hasnt yet because he knows that will just make the hybrid panic but come on, he wants some time with tommy! technos ruining his chance!

[witchofthesouls]

So, I’m not sure if you’re taking emergency requests or not but I could really use something. I’m not sure if you know but parts of northeast Florida are basically underwater.

I’m visiting from college and I’ve been trapped at the Fort Lauderdale airport for a day and a half, soon to be two. My parents are trapped in their home (they live in an apartment but their garage is completely flooded) and can’t get to me, so I have to hold until the water levels here and there go down enough for me to get home.

I’m tried, cold, haven’t showered in almost two days, sleeping in shifts between rock hard seats and the floor to charge my phone and avoiding downstairs like the plague because that’s also flooded, I’m stuck with other people, my period tracker says in due to start any day now, and I want my moms home cooked meal. I have the feeling I’m gonna bawl my eyes out the second I’m out of this god forsaken airport.

Could you do a headcanon on how TFP Optimus, Megatron, and Ratchet would react to their human daughter being trapped in an airport for two days due to horrible weather and finally seeing her when it’s clear?

(Oh wow, anon, I didn't know about the storms flooding Florida. I had to look up news for it. And yikes, it still isn't over yet. That's a severely rough time, especially at a stopping point. Here we go with a different style: )

Optimus would immediately be in the vicinity when the weather subsides enough for him to safely transport you. Nature on Earth, he finds, is beautiful, but also devastating, especially on small beings without innate protection. Before you see his alt-mode, it's worn-looking, yet relieved "Leo Cullen" that greets your eyes. He takes extra care with his holomatter, so when he hugs you for a long moment, it's warm and solid. You feel the leather and flannel, the scratch of his facial hair, and roughened fingers. There's the underlying smell of sun and storm, and it feels like home.

The sleeper cab would be ready because, between the size of his alt-mode and root-mode, it's easy to transport a mattress in his subspace. Freshly laundered with your favorite road-trip snacks. The road back is long with pit and truck stops to stretch your legs, eat meals, showers, and look at the scenery, but that's because these trips are the only time between you and him and no one else, barring an emergency.

There's nostalgia over the radio, cassettes, and CDs. Podcasts of shared interests and audial books he listens on his spare time. He sings a little off-key to get you to smile and "Leo" smiles right back. He names the constellations visible in the sky and talks about the ones back on Cybertron; his voice lulling you to sleep as he steps through the mythology of Thirteen and their legendary battle against Unicron in the sky.

The one that fusses the most is Ratchet. His time at the base is a mix of complaints on such a chaotic nightmare of a planet and hyperfocus on things that need his attention. Otherwise, he'll drive himself up the walls with the continuous onslaught of new reports and in-and-out communication from you. (He wonders if he can simply take over your post-secondary education. Ratchet has mentored factory fresh new-builds, and he can learn his lesson from the science projects to take account of the planet's educational framework.)

You're stressed, so it makes him stressed because all he wants to do is bundle you up, keep you tucked away on his shoulder, and yell at everything that got you to that point. He can't fight the weather, so your 'old man' of a father picks you up with faded red hair and a severe frown as he impatiently waits. "Haiden Ratcliffe" looks like he just got off a double shift in his scrubs, and it looks to you that he hasn't been sleeping well with the presence of bags under his eyes on his holomatter. But now you two are a father-daughter match in exhaustion.

Despite his appearance, he's powerful and the force of his hug takes your breath away and skews his glasses as he lifts you up. He's tutting and grumbling in his usual, grumpy way as he gets you inside his alt, so he can run passive scans and get you more comfortable because he has everything on hand. "Haiden" doesn't make frequent appearances, unless it's necessary (and the PTA and school board would like to keep it as minimum as possible), so it's a nice moment to rest on his shoulder and he runs warm as large hands run through your hair.

On the opposite spectrum, for a mech known for his eloquence, Megatron has the hardest time providing soft comfort. He intimately knows bitter ones, harsh ones, wrathful ones, and heavy-handed ones. Cordiality is one thing, but gentleness is a beast that's foreign to him. It's not even a luxury he reserves for himself.

He gnashed his denta, bleeding them, opening a few scars on his face, and his fists clenched until the muscle-cabling and joints strained as he monitored atmospheric reports and potential damage. It isn't an enemy he can turn his fists and fusion cannon on, his rage cannot cow a storm or defeat tornados. Strength is what he knows and what he has, and he loathes how it fails him in this instance, even as he demolishes the training forces and simulations.

Nor can he hide easily. Even if he takes on a more appropriate Earth alt-mode, there's no way he can simply fly his way through the airport, especially if he wants to keep your presence beneath everyone's sensors. (Even if he stares at the blueprints of the infrastructure to casually find spots that could reasonably cover a ground bridge to get you immediately back on the warship. It's child's play for Soundwave to down the security systems and continuous storms could mask the power output, right?) He sends Breakdown to get you for the mech's thick armature and his ease with softer manners.

Megatron's care is more subtle, in some ways distant, because he struggles on presenting a kinder face. Your alarms are shut off as you're excused from practices. The showers are well-stocked with quality spa accessories and treatments. He says nothing when your pet drone slinks its way into bed and curls around you.

Food is a language he can understand and compromise on. Fuel was important, something close to sacred, to those deep in the mines and shackled in the Pits. Compared to what he's used to, the cuisine on Earth is nauseatingly overwhelming: diets and lifestyles and so many little, yet important factors that contribute to your health and wellness. What is edible and non-edible is not a hard line; it's a shore where it depends on the preparation and methods and cultivation. It's nothing at all like harvesting Energon crystals. And he vaguely wonders how humanity hasn't killed itself in its infancy between intentional poisonings of rotted or fermented food and accidental death by a simple mistake when foraging.

You can't drink directly from his lines, so he takes it upon himself to provide in another way and he tackles the culinary arts as a challenge to overcome. And, to him, it's a satisfying one.

Megatron cooks meals and balances your nutrition. Styles of all kinds and the world in his grasp. When you return, he makes your favorites, the things that comfort you the most as you and he sit down to fuel together. Your expression is all he needs to be pleased as he savors the warm purr of satisfied sire-coding.

[crumb]

I am STARVED for some Lester Sinclair headcanons. Got any? Thanks! Have a great day/night :3

Hi there! Thank you so much for asking! I've been thinking about these a lot lately. Some of them I'm actually including in my upcoming fic that I'm working on. They're fairly tame/wholesome but I hope you enjoy!

Lester does have a sense of personal hygiene. Despite what he may look like during the day while scrounging for roadkill. He doesn’t see the point in wearing unstained shirts while working. He knows they'll get dirty due to his line of work in the Louisiana heat, so why ruin them? Though he doesn’t skimp on wearing his work jeans. Those somehow tend to stay stain free and look decent which he loves. They are a bit big on him so he always wears a good belt too.

When he gets home for the night he actually has a cleaning routine before he lets himself rest. He’s got that orange pumice soap to help work out any stubborn blood or grease from his hands. He then hops straight in the shower and then gets into a fresh pair of sweat shorts and a clean tank.

Roadkill and other debris disposal for the local roads is a paid job through the county. It doesn’t pay well but he’s grateful nonetheless. Beats working some hard labor construction job in the city. He doesn’t always feel like driving around wasting gas looking for fresh kills himself. It’s not uncommon to find him sitting in his truck pulled off to the side of the road. He'll be reading some long-forgotten fantasy or sci-fi novel, waiting on dispatch to assign him a cleanup.

As for love life, it hasn’t been completely nonexistent. Over the years he’s had a few short flings with some locals, but nothing serious. When he’s interested in more than the physical, his overwhelming shyness tends to get the best of him.

Although most people in the area prefer football, Lester is more into baseball, if any sport. He roots for the Astros. He doesn’t follow the seasons too closely but he likes to catch a game on the radio. Sitting out on the porch on a summer or autumn night with the radio on in the background and Jonesy lying by his feet.

[krueger4eva]

Random Headcanon for Gladstone Gander

Note: Gladstone’s family lineage varies between authors, so I am going to choose the Duck family tree by Don Rosa as a template for this headcanon.

According to Rosa’s Duck family tree, Gladstone Gander is the son of Daphne Duck, from which he inherited his supernatural good luck, and Goostave Gander, a firm but fair goose.

Due to Gladstone’s mixed heritage, this has been another source of bullying towards him along with his good fortune.

While Gladstone maintained his cool and confident appearance most of the time, there were times when his goose genetics caused some embarrassment for him.

Having a case of the hiccups is very rare for Gladstone. But when he does, a goose-like honking noise emits from his mouth. Whenever he hiccups in crowded places, people think that there’s a semi-trailer truck passing by. He always manages to sneak out, undetected, before anyone can trace the sound to him.

Plus, his hybrid heritage is quite noticeable on the outside due to his goose genetics making him “rounder” in certain areas. While all ducks are naturally plump, Gladstone, while in healthy shape for any bird, has some… extra cargo in the rear.

Ever since high school, poor Gladstone has had to deal with insults from peers and strangers like “Humpty Dumpty”, “Rump Roast”, or “Goosey Caboosey”. Usually, he would remain calm, yet visibly annoyed, when hearing these affronts. But there is one name that could set this bird off: “bubble butt”. On the day his parents died, some students in school called him that name which led to a violent fight that got him sent home for the day. Once he got home, thats when he received the tragic news. Now, every time someone calls him “bubble butt”, he’s reminded of that fateful day of his terrible loss.

Anyone who has survived a goose attack in a park can vouch that these birds are not to be taken lightly. The people who have called Gladstone that dreaded nickname learned the hard way that it takes one push over the edge to cause this perpetually lazy to pull a Donald. He may not be a skilled fighter like Donald, Della, or Abner, but he knows how to deliver some nasty bites with his sharp teeth.

Although, they’re not actual teeth, but rather jagged structures created from cartilage that line up the inside of the bill- referred to as “tomia”. Yet, Gladstone always refers to them as “fangs” just because it sounds cooler. Either way, these appendages can easily do some serious damage.

And like all geese, he lets out a terrifying hissing noise. It sounds like a velociraptor hunting for fresh prey.

Imagine walking through the woods, alone, after dark and hearing that sound! 😰

Luckily, his family (EVEN Donald!) would never laugh at those jokes or tease him about his body. Gladstone and his cousins may trade jabs at each other on a daily basis, but they have an agreement on what lines should never be crossed. Also, he has become comfortable with joking about himself from time to time, but only around family.

For example, whenever the children were caught in a lie, Gladstone has permission from the other adults to threaten to sit on them if they don’t confess. It takes only a MILLISECOND for them to spill the beans. Plus, his tomia saves on fake teeth for Halloween costumes. He even jokes about being secretly a vampire to the kids and that his good fortune protects him from burning in the sunlight. Louie and Lena don’t believe it, but they always appreciated his theatrics.

Despite the grievances he experiences due to his unique anatomy, Gladstone remains proud to be the son of Goostave and Daphne. They were good people and even greater parents. All genetics have their drawbacks and advantages.

He’s a duck.

He’s a goose.

But he’s all Gladstone…for better or worse..🍀

Please tip me at Ko-Fi 💜!!

[spaceumbredoggos]

Did some cooking in the shower. Headcanon time!

So I’ve established that Kenz loves to steal food, then gorge on the ill gotten gains. This escalates to stealing Atlas’s crops, raiding Atlas’s chicken coop for raw eggs, and even raiding local pet stores and eating their fish, rodents, birds, and rabbits. This all comes down to long stifled instincts that are suddenly coming out leading to criminal records and a feral Kenz who will bite everyone and everything. And when they bite, they draw a lot of blood, which if the target isn’t human, they drink a lot of through licking the wound and latching on constantly.

But you know what they love more? Settling feuds with species, yes, entire species, that have evoked their wrath. Rats and mice chewed up half their books and plushies when they were ten. Every rat and mouse they see, they eat. They eventually leave the crops and eggs alone and devour the marauding rodent population of not just Atlas’s homestead, but farms across Gravity Falls. They also eat entire hills of ants because they got into their cinnamon rolls and strawberry shortcake biscuits that one time. The shack has zero ant problems after this.

This prey drive escalates to them hunting any rodent or lagamorph pest that gets into the garden. And they can digest bone, so nothing goes to waste. Kenz still goes on plant binges at times, but it’s with feral vegetation that isn’t regulated by farmers. However, they’re quite the glutton when it comes to nectar from flowers. They transform into a rogue bee and goes on flower binges, sometimes getting too heavy to even fly. So they pollinate crops at a much faster rate than traditional bees, but only in short bursts.

Kenz acts a lot like a reactive dog at times. Losing their shit in swearing storms whenever a mail truck arrives or a stag approaches the bird feeder. They’re too smart for any sort of training yet the shifter brainrot just takes over their mind. They’re banned from any view of mail trucks and Atlas gives them all their packages.

One thing that Kenz can’t seem to leave alone is catmint. No one knows why Atlas grows so much of it in his garden, but patches get decimated when Kenz gets in a particular mood. They are often found lying down on the ground too catmint stoned to move. Silvervine also works on them. Catmint and Silvervine aren’t at all dangerous for the user. Kenz also tends to binge on lavender for the antidepressant effects. Atlas’s herb garden is never safe.

Kenz can no longer eat any sort of processed food since their shapeshifter puberty starting. Atlas and Holly can eat normal human things just fine, but Kenz’s system is too sensitive. They ate a lot of processed food and it is just tearing up their mind from accumulated forever chemicals. The only remedy is raw food. They can only eat raw meat when they eat meat. Their system prevents parasites and disease, so they can eat roadkill off the side of the street. But they prefer fresh kill or even butcher cuts (they have a habit of stealing things just before they get grilled at random barbecues.) They can’t even get prion diseases, so contaminated meat often just gets sent to them for disposal by government agencies.

Okay. I’ve rambled about Kenz’s weird eating habits, which is my current hyperfixation. I’m dead serious when I say that this isn’t any grounds for writing some weird vore or mukbang fic. I just want to fulfill my constant dream of eating raw meat like I’m supposed—

Anyways, I’m gonna tag @fishy--friend just to see his reaction and I’m gonna go try to see if I can eat dinner without shitting my pants off. Drink water. Hug your mom. Pet your pets. And don’t eat aquarium gravel.

[notefinal]

some dodge mason headcanons that no one asked for + a bonus riff one

dodge was the one to suggest they move back to carp. he knew that if he wanted to play panic, he needed to re-enroll in high school as a senior in carp, so he convinced his mom to move them back to carp so that he could re-enroll. he claimed it was because he wanted a fresh start, and they moved back to carp a year before the events of panic take place.

the watch that dodge has was an eleventh birthday present from his dad. it’s one of the only gifts that dodge ever got from his dad. he wears it upside down because that’s how his dad used to wear it. he hasn’t taken it off since he got it.

he hooked up with a fair amount of people in the year following his dad’s death and dayna’s accident to cope with his grief and his guilt.

he thinks he could’ve fallen for nat if she hadn’t used dayna for his personal challenge, but the crush that he’d developed on her immediately died off when he learned that she’d used dayna. (he’s not even sure if he did have a crush on her or if he was just physically attracted to her, but he doesn’t care to figure it out since there’s no point in it anymore.)

dodge wasn’t really mentally present for his hookup with nat. the grief of talking about his dad blindsided him to nat’s intentions and it was easier to just go through the motions than try to be present. he made sure nat enjoyed herself but other than that, he wasn’t really putting much effort into being there.

dodge uses some of his panic money to buy a used pickup truck and the rest of it goes towards treatment for dayna.

he doesn’t really know what to do once panic ends. he’d spent three years formulating his plan for revenge and he’s left unsure once it doesn’t get enacted, but he tries his best to move on.

dodge listens pretty exclusively to country music. he knows other artists, but his favorite genre is country and that’s what he’ll be listening to 99.9% of the time.

he’s an incredibly good line dancer. his favorites dances are ones with fast footwork.

he’s extremely good with animals, and horses are his strong suit. he’s never met a horse he couldn’t get to cooperate.

he’s beaten countless rodeo records before and he’ll continue to do it so long as he keeps performing. his strongest events are saddle bronc, and mounted shooting, but he also does roping and barrel racing from time to time.

he isn’t the type to call a girl “hot.” he thinks it’s rude.

dodge has known anne since he was a kid, and she is the only person that can call dodge “andy.” dayna doesn’t even have the privilege, but dayna calls him dodge most of the time and andrew when he’s in trouble, so it works out.

dodge is a little pretentious when it comes to panic. he doesn’t like it when people play just to play, or when people treat it like a joke. he has a reason for playing, and he tends to only respect other players that are playing for a reason, not just because they could or because it would make a cool story one day or they were bored.

and bonus riff headcanon

riff will talk to kids if it’s 100% clear that he will have no part in raising them. once he becomes part of their life, he gets scared he’ll mess them up and he retreats and becomes distant. he likes older kids (twelve and up) better than younger kids because he never really knows what to do around younger kids. however, he’s more than likely to tell a kid to scram rather than talk to them, no matter how old they are.

[phantastus]

If you're still doing headcannons, first four protagonist of silent hill series? Plus Claudia and Eileen if you want. Thanks!

OH MAN THAT’S A LOT but let’s do this.Headcanon A: Harry Mason was a practicing Christian prior to the events of Silent Hill– after, he spent a number of years struggling to reconcile his faith with everything that he’d witnessed. Eventually, he somewhat made peace with it, but it was never fully the same afterwards.Headcanon B: Harry was a nonfiction/true crime author prior to Silent Hill. Then, in an attempt to cope, he wrote one horror novel under a pseudonym, never intending to write another one. Just one. NATURALLY It was a massive hit and publishing houses proceeded to bother him incessantly to do more like it. He occasionally would joke to Heather that half the reason they changed names and kept moving around was to make it harder for his agent to harass him.Headcanon C: Harry frequently read to Heather as a child, and the most frequent choice was Watership Down. Harry always made a point of placing EXTRA special emphasis on the creation myth, and Frith’s instructions for El-ah-rairah: “All the world shall be your enemy, Prince with a Thousand Enemies. And when they catch you, they will kill you. But first, they must catch you. Digger, listener, runner, Prince with a swift warning. Be cunning, and full of tricks. And your people shall never die.”It was his way of, without frightening her, trying to prepare her for the certain inevitability that the Order was going to catch up with them eventually.

Headcanon A: James has a very, very hard time interpreting and responding to social cues. Getting confused or defensive when misinterpreted is part of the reason he comes off as ‘surly’– it’s easier to come off as antisocial than face anger or ridicule after saying something unintentionally rude, which happened A Lot ™ when he was growing up.Headcanon B: A defining moment in his and Mary’s early relationship was him finally telling her about his dad’s creepy umbilical-cord box and them going “OH MY GOD?!” “I KNOW!!” about it back and forth for a solid ten minutes while sitting in a parked car.Headcanon C: Before Mary got sick, James was over-the-moon excited about being a father someday. They both took it for granted that it was definitely going to happen. Spoilers: it didn’t.

Headcanon A: As much as Heather always loved her father, as a teenager she started to resent his smothering, overprotective tendencies (as well as the fact that they constantly moved around) and started openly acting out– smoking, drinking, shoplifting, partying, and getting in fights. Headcanon B:  On at least one occasion after Silent Hill 3, Heather scared the shit out of some poor door-to-door religious pamphlet people by wrenching the door open with her rifle in hand and yelling “I KILLED YOUR GOD!”Headcanon C: Sometimes really late at night when she’s drinking alone, Heather thinks really hard about the fact that by not killing her in infancy and instead raising her like any other child, Harry was literally gambling with the fate of the world. Really, really hard.

Headcanon A: Henry was the youngest in a large, rich family. His quiet, anxious nature meant he was constantly overlooked and all of his siblings went on to have important, high-income careers, he… went to art school, dropped out, and moved off to the east coast to get away from the constant pressure and quiet judgment. Headcanon B: Henry may hate socializing, but one of his favorite ways to make time spent in public places bearable is by standing quietly in the background of other peoples’ photos at every opportunity and looking directly at the camera.Headcanon C: The events of SH4 effectively cured the severest of Henry’s agoraphobia… at the cost of sending him to the complete opposite end of the spectrum. For several weeks after first leaving the apartment complex, Henry was actively terrified of entering ANY buildings and spent more than one night literally sleeping on the streets.

Headcanon A: Claudia suffers from trichotillomania, a nervous disorder that causes a person to compulsively pluck out their own hair. This is why she doesn’t have eyebrows.Headcanon B: Claudia met with Douglas on a number of occasions before he was actually able to locate Heather, and had to leave Silent Hill to do so. But she has no driver’s license and certainly nobody to get a ride from. So please, if you will, imagine being the unfortunate public transit passenger stuck sitting across from a tall scary woman with no eyebrows, no shoes, and no sense of how long is too long to be maintaining direct eye contact.Headcanon C: As very young children, Vincent (then a preschooler) really latched on to the early-elementary-school-age Claudia, sometimes even following her straight past his own house on the walk home from school– which usually prompted an exasperated cry of “GO HOME, VINCENT!” from Claudia.If you don’t think this is sad, please recall the other time that she says those words to him.

Headcanon A: Eileen waffled between a lot of potential career choices before eventually deciding to pursue becoming a conflict resolution specialist, thanks to her ability to get along with virtually anybody (like, come on, she even gets along with RICHARD).Headcanon B: Out of the entire cast of protagonists, Eileen is the most terrifying and willing fighter out of them all. It doesn’t matter how scary you are– try and mug Eileen and she’ll come at you.Headcanon C: Prior to SH4, Eileen would have described herself as seeing the best in everybody and trusting easily. Needless to say, that’s not the case anymore– and she has a really hard time not hating herself for no longer being the bubbly, open-hearted person she used to be.