#i have so many thoughts about this guy

[doctorsiren]

keiji mogami

(w/o effects + sketch under the cut)

[garblegarden]

Underneath the suit, Human Guy is more of an abstract concept. I mean, yes, he is a real guy under there, but he doesn't like to acknowledge that too much. He's got plenty of other stuff going on to make up for that though, like wires replacing his organs and blood on his hands and a certain pinkish infection that claimed his legs and eye that may or may not come back to finish the job.

[backpackingspace]

Okay but can we talk about how everyone gerry saved was okay? Like the monsters didn't come back to eat them and how they didn't become monsters themselves? How up until he died, despite everything he grew up with and went through and faced he was human himself??

[zephyreon4]

ok seven MUST have done ballet or gymnastics or something growing up bc he literally CARTWHEELS to get around

[kamakrazeewarboyz]

Scrotus headcanons incoming under the cut!

(A lot of these were already posted and discussed in the Mad Max server, but @kamakrazeeee inspired me to flesh them out and add some more that’d been rattling around in my brain, so now you all get to see them too)

• He’s the middle child, born not long after Corpus, and only two or so years prior to Rictus. Definitely feels like he suffers from Middle Child Syndrome™️ and tries to make up for it with his ruthlessness and desire to prove himself as just as capable as his father.

• Has a love-hate relationship with Rictus, usually bordering on hate. He sees him as an incompetent obstacle, too often bumbling things up in a way that gets under Scrotus’ skin, and that alongside his constant childish disobedience of their father, and the things Scrotus knows he gets up to in the Vault when he thinks no one is looking, but refuses to outwardly acknowledge, drive him up a wall and thin his barely there patience to NOTHING. But despite how often he messes with him, he is the *only* one allowed to. Anyone else messes with his little brother, and he’ll have them dangling from a crane by dinner.

• He gets along much better with Corpus, and they often join together to help brainstorm tactical and political solutions to problems that arise in their father’s empire. He also vents to Corpus over any perceived grief, often. Corpus is the only one that will listen. Mostly because he usually doesn’t have a choice (He’ll roll his eyes when Scrotus isn’t paying attention, though.)

• Very fidgety, always moving or pacing or cracking his knuckles. He’s too full of energy at all times and has trouble staying still.

• WILL bite.

• He is THE daddiest boy, but is not afraid to go up against his father if he feels the path he’s chosen is the wrong one, which is often, and made worse by the feeling that Joe never seems to take his suggestions seriously.

• Violence is always the solution. Do not try to negotiate. He’ll just cut your arms off and do what he wants anyway.

• He suffers from severe, chronic eczema, which is constantly covering him in itchy, splotchy rashes and scabs- he only makes it worse by refusing to heed the Organic Mechanic’s advice and scratches at it like a dog with fleas until it bleeds, marking him all over with scars.

• He’s moved out of the Citadel and tasked with leading Gastown once Dementus is killed at the end of the 40 Day War, and does so for several hundred days until he himself is killed in a battle with an unknown road warrior. The position is then taken up by The People Eater to fill the power vacuum he had left

• Much (though definitely not all. Look at him. This man is a diva) of his bravado is posturing to make up for how unworthy he feels, how the fear of being a failure seeps into his bloodstream, knowing that he was born and conceived for one purpose and one purpose only, only to have his father deem him unfit and rip his fate from his grasp. That, alongside his father’s cold shoulder and constant brushing off of him, has led to deep set wounds and trauma that he strives to convince others- and most especially himself- aren’t actually there. This has greatly affected his self image, and makes him all the more desperate to please his father despite knowing he can’t

• He hates feeling in the dark about things, or not knowing what’s going on, which makes him VERY nosy. He always tries to get as much information or be as involved in things as he can, and often uses it as leverage however he sees fit

• He’s perpetually angry. For one reason or another rage is ALWAYS simmering under his skin, has been since he was born. That, and his affinity for sudden and brutal acts of violence, make for a bad combination

• Scrotus was around 24 when Furiosa was first brought to the Citadel, which puts him at around 39 during the 40 Day War and 42 during the events of Fury Road (had he lived that long)

• He’s often found doing menial tasks around the Citadel, usually of his own dictation, save for the times when Joe himself asks for Scrotus to lead the charge on a project personally (Like the War Rig in Furiosa, something big and important enough for one of the Immorta to watch over, but not urgent enough for The Immortan himself.). Half of it is out of a desire to show himself worthy to his father even in the smaller ways, that he can lead and direct the Citadel and its citizens just as Joe does. The rest is just to give himself things to do in the downtimes, when his blood runs too hot for him to sit still and do nothing.

•Corpus, Scrotus and Rictus were all born of the same woman- the first of Joe’s eventual harem of breeders, and the originator of the ‘Three strikes, you’re out’ rule, having birthed three sons that were all deemed at one time or another unsatisfactory to carry on Joe’s legacy. None of them ever got to know her- they were all plucked out of the vault as soon after birth as would have been healthily allowed and handed to Joe himself. I imagine for the first few years of his life, Scrotus appeared outwardly as close to a full life as one could imagine. He had rashes and patches of flaky skin here and there, but his skin disease didn’t start truly showing up until he made it to his pre-teens and hit puberty, and it didn’t get bad enough to require his fish skin tunic or reach the severity that we see in furiosa until his late teens, and only gets worse from then on. Otherwise, he’d been a perfect specimen, and for the first decade or so of his life Joe had a very personal hand in raising him up in his image to be the next Immortan, molding the red hot flame that burned bright inside into something that could hopefully sustain the Citadel long after he himself was gone. But the older Scrotus got, the more his ‘deficiencies’ were brought to light- Joe sees them, both physical and mental, as a projection of all of his own impurities, on top of the disappointment of something having been so promising, years of work and teaching, now reduced to nothing. And once he deems Scrotus too unstable and imperfect for his vision, he casts him down from the pedestal of Immortan and passes him off instead to Miss Giddy for the rest of his teen years to continue his basic teachings, and to the Imperators to help him hone the supercharged emotion that swirls within him into something violent and brutal. A perfect warrior, since he’s proved himself to be less than a perfect son. Scrotus spends the rest of his life in one way or another trying to win back the assurity in him his father had once shown.

•He’s been extremely skilled in fighting from a young age, and used to make it a game as he grew to see how many Imperators he could beat and slaughter during training sessions to prove his prowess. The answer is WAAAAY too many.

•He’s a lot smarter than most people take him for, and very well learned and well read thanks to Miss Giddy. Unfortunately, his anger and impulsivity is quick to cloud his rational judgment, especially when he’s lost in an inner storm of heightened emotion, which gets him making reckless split second decisions and leading him more often than not to want to charge headfirst at an enemy than think through a solid plan. It also seeps in a lot into his actual fighting style- as skilled and gifted in the art of war as he is, he too easily loses himself to his emotions and drops his learned attacks for something much more feral and animalistic, which serves him well against those lesser trained, but causes problems for him if he loses his head going up against an opponent that’s just as skilled as he is. It’s what causes his downfall in the end.

•He collects a tooth from each of his slain enemies and uses them to decorate the interior of the Cranky Black.

[grumpy-zane]

Crossing Lines / Broken Promises

[ruinedgautier]

a fourth sylvain fic wip has hit the towers

[tobyxtots]

Inside I've been shaken, my sanity taken. Our broken halves, they intertwine. From once was yours and once was mine.

I'm breakable, unbreakable. I'm shakable, unshakable. I won't let you contaminate me!

[stiffyck]

i keep thinking about that allay tcd scar idea and generally about convex like i think ut changed something in my brain

Yea thinking about scar does change ur brain...

[thesnakesstuff]

Worship

[jeanivere]

arthur morgan tiddies and tummy thats all im gonna say

[epaulettesharks]

it's still wild to me how james somerton's response to even the mildest criticism was to insist that he was being unfairly maligned by people who wanted him dead. i remember when jessie gender politely disagreed with his take on the nebula streaming service, and he had a full on melt down, accused her of sending her followers after him, and very bizarrely alleged that one of his supposed harassers was threatening to falsely accuse him of sexual assault. like what the hell was even that???

[doomedclockworkdotmp3]

his therapist woulda had a field day at their next appointment

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Soup solves everything.

[egophiliac]

queen of diamonds, upright + reversed 💎

I've redone this like eighty times, I have to just be done with it now and stop staring at all my mistakes oh no 🫠

[hailsatanacab]

Family Dinners - dpxdc

"Holy shit, you're Bruce Wayne!" Danny gaped, jabbing a finger at the man sitting at the head of the table.

The bustling dining room goes silent as everyone turns to look at him.

"Danny, who did you think was going to be here?" Tim asks, disbelief plain in his voice and Danny feels his face flush red.

"Sorry, I, uh, I guess I just never put it together. Tim Drake-Wayne. Wayne Manor. It, uh, makes sense now." He laughs sheepishly and scrubs at his neck before slumping back down into his chair.

"Well," Tim says with an indulgent sigh, "at least I know you're not just friends with me for my connections."

"Yeah, I'm really sorry, I just never thought about it, I guess."

Danny sinks lower as everyone around him laughs. Come to dinner, he said, the food is the best, he said, ignore the family, he said. Danny really wishes he'd listened to Tim and just ignored them—almost as much as he's regretting accepting the offer in the first place—but... he's having dinner with Batman.

Ancients, that's so weird!

The last time he saw Batman was in the future and, suffice it to say, it was not going well. There hadn't really been time for family dinners there.

Wait. Family dinners?

He peers around the table, openly gawking at everyone as it all clicks into place.

"Everything alright, Danny? Now realising who everyone else is?" Tim asks with a roll of his eyes.

"Uh... something like that..." Danny mumbles as everyone laughs again.

From further down the table, the smallest Wayne scoffs and clicks his tongue.

"I thought you said he was smart, Drake?"

"So, you all do it, too, then?" he asks, ignoring the jibe. Danny's only a little bit jealous as he thinks of how much easier they must have it, how much easier it'd be if his family had been on his side, too. "You all work together?"

"Nah," Dick says from across the table with a brilliant grin. "Tim's the only one that works with Bruce, we all have different jobs. I'm a police officer in Bludhaven."

"Disgusting." Danny blurts out without thinking—because seriously, what kind of self-respecting vigilante would also be a police officer?—before clapping a hand over his mouth. "Sorry."

The whole table laughs again, the loudest being the blonde girl a few spaces down from Dick. Look, Danny wasn't really paying attention to names when they were all paraded in front of him. Dick only gets remembered because his name is a joke.

Come on, Danny, recover!

"That's, uh, not what I meant, though."

"Oh?" Dick asks, cocking his head slightly to the side. Is it Danny's imagination or does his smile tense slightly?

"Yeah, I mean like, you know, in costume. It must make it so much easier to have everyone together like this."

"Costume? What do you mean?"

Yeah, Danny's not imagining it, everyone tenses up at that. It's really only now that he's realising that this probably isn't how he should bring up that he knows about their... night time activities. In fact, he probably shouldn't be bringing it up at all.

"Uuhhh..." Danny looks wildly around the table as he continues making his stupid noise. Think, think, think! There must be a way out of this!

"Danny?" Tim asks, looking concerned.

"Oh, Ancients, this isn't how I wanted it to go at all," he mutters, slipping even further into his chair. He's almost on the floor now and he so, so wishes it could just swallow him up.

His real first meeting with Batman was meant to be cool! He had planned to be Phantom, maybe save them from a tight spot, prove his worth as a mysterious and powerful ally as thanks for the help Batman gave him in the future.

"Danny, what are you talking about?" Tim starts tugging on his sleeve in an attempt to pull him back up from his pit of despair.

Eventually, Danny relents and sits up straighter, hiding his face in his hands and whining all the while.

"I'm sorry, I just didn't expect him to be here and it threw me off so now I look stupid and it's so embarrassing!" he wails, flailing his arms wide. "Why wouldn't you warn me that Batman was your adopted dad, Tim? Couldn't you have let me know?"

"I'm sorry, what? Danny are you alright? There's no way Bruce can be Batman, look at him!"

"Yeah," the blonde girl laughs from the bottom of the table, "look at him! That's a wet noodle of a man! Batman can actually do things, B is incapable of pretty much everything."

"Thank you, Stephanie," Bruce sighs, massaging his forehead.

It's... Those are the first words Danny's heard Batman say since everything went down and it's enough to knock him out of his embarrassment.

It's really good to hear his voice again. Especially now, when it's strong and healthy and full of personality—even if that personality is little more than a tired father right now—far better than how it had been, at the end.

Danny sits up, back straight, and grins. He's got this. He remembers it perfectly. Some people count sheep to fall asleep, Danny repeats his mantra to be certain that he'll never forget it.

"Gamma alpha upsilon tau iota mu epsilon, 42, 63, 28, 1 colon 65 dash 9."

Once again, the whole table falls into silence.

"Holy shit..." breathes the other D name (Duke? Danny's pretty sure he's Signal) from opposite Stephanie. "Isn't that...?"

"The time travelling code." The littlest Wayne says stiffly. "We have met in the future?"

"That's not just the time travelling code, Dami." Dick says, looking between Danny and Bruce. "That's the family time travelling code."

Danny's grin freezes in place.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"1 colon 65 dash 9." Dick explains, still flicking between him and Bruce. "It means you've been adopted into the family and we should all treat you as such, no questions asked."

"Tell you what, I'm about to ask a question." Danny says, dumbstruck. "You just told me it was a code to identify time travellers, not anything about being adopted! What the hell, B?"

Bruce looks about as shellshocked as Danny feels.

"We must have been close," he says finally, after opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water a few times.

"No! Not that close!" Danny reels back, taking a deep breath ready to refute it all, but... "Well, I mean, you found me when I first got stuck, and you helped me get better despite being... And then we fought together against the, uh, bad guy, before he, um, he... before you couldn't."

An uncomfortable beat passes while they all pick up on what Danny tried so hard not to say.

"So, you're not from the future, then, you travelled there and came back?" Tim asks, breaking the tension and leaning forward with a glint in his eye.

"Yeah, it was a whole end of the world thing, but don't worry about it," Danny says with a hand wave, "It's all kosher now, won't ever happen."

"What did happen?"

"Seriously, don't worry about it, we cool."

"How long in the future was it?"

"About ten years? You were pretty spry for an old man, B," Danny laughs, wishing they'd get off the topic of what happened and get back to the adoption bit.

Everyone shares degrees of a cautious smile as they relax out of the shock, and Dick—whose grin is the biggest—says, "No wonder you got the family code, you're already riffing on him like one of us. How long were you there for?"

"A week, before I managed to get back to my present and stop him then."

"A week? Jeez, B, that has to set some kind of record, seriously."

"Oh!" Danny says, sitting bolt upright and blinking in surprise before pointing at Dick and bouncing in his seat. "You're Nightwing!"

"What?"

"That's exactly what Nightwing said when Batman told me the code! Makes so much more sense now."

Dick laughs and claps his hands, delighted.

"You were not formally adopted?" The grumpy small one—Dami?—asks, his face pinched.

"I didn't even know I was informally adopted."

"And your parents? Are they alive or dead?"

"Damian, stop—"

"They were dead in the future, but they're alive now." Danny says, looking down. He fiddles with the tablecloth, twisting the fabric around his fingers as he fights down the pang of sadness that he always feels when he thinks of them now. He forces a bright smile on his face and hopes it doesn’t look too strained. "I just, uh, can't talk to them much, anymore."

"Damian," Dick warns, "1 colon 65 dash 9. Treat them as family, no questions asked."

"This is Damian treating him as family, the little turd has no manners." Tim scoffs, rolling his eyes, but he gently bumps shoulders with Danny to knock him out of his funk. Danny can't help but send him a watery smile.

"I have the most exemplary manners, Drake, unlike some people." Damian spits, crossing his arms with a pout. "I was merely ascertaining his status to see how he could possibly fit into the family."

"I know this is all a bit sudden, Danny," Bruce smiles, ignoring Damian and reaching out to lay a warm hand on his arm, "for all of us. But if I felt strongly enough to give you that code after spending a week with you in the future, then you are more than welcome in this family, if you so choose it. I think I can speak for all of us when I say we'd like to get to know you a bit more."

"I know a threat when I hear it, Bruce." Danny snorts. "But, yeah, I get it. I'm sorry this is all so weird, it really wasn't how I wanted to find you again, but... I'm glad I did."

"So are we, Danny." Dick says, with a warm smile. "And formally or not, 1 colon 65 dash 9 means you're family. Welcome to the fun house! No take backs or refunds, sorry. You're stuck with us."