#random headcanons no one asked for

[skellymom]

😆

Where everything is made up and the points don't matter...

The Bad Batch: As Whose Line Is It Anyway "Characters"

Hunter:

Wrecker:

Crosshair:

Tech:

A follow up to this post, since I couldn't fit the Bad Batch boys on there.

[arttsuka]

do you have any headcannons for body from kpdh?

Assuming we're talking about Bobby and not that one guy named Baby (because body is like, the combination of the two names, somehow...)

So, headcanons

He's bisexual

He is single

He's an ex member of a boy band that broke up early, he never experienced the high of his career the proper way. That's why he's a good manager to the girls. He knows from experience how not to treat the idols

He goes to therapy

He watches dramas

Has several stuffed animals in his room (gifts from fans mostly) but he doesn't sleep with any

His father is dead (his mother is ok tho)

Not an only child, maybe middle child?

He wants a cat but can't afford to make time to care for one

Spring allergies

[superbat-lmao]

When Batman “abducts” Jason, he offers him a deal. Since Jason is concerned about staying with Bruce Wayne, and to show that he’s not abandoning the child to be trafficked, he agrees to a “wellness check” once a week, for an hour.

Anything that Bruce Wayne does that makes Jason uncomfortable, he can report to Batman. And if he does any of the things Jason’s worried about, Batman gives him a panic button.

At the first welfare visit, Batman asks about how Jason is acclimating to the manor.

It takes a lot of prodding for Jason to admit that he wants a lock on his door and that he likes Alfred. That he can’t tell what Bruce is thinking a lot of the time and he doesn’t like the ominous silences.

What’s truly crazy, is that after the meeting, Alfred asks him to help install a lock on his door that only works from the inside. And the next day, when he sees Bruce at breakfast, the man starts recounting some of his day at work, regardless of if Jason joins in. He lays out his plans for the day and his reasoning. Just, talks about innocuous things.

He asks Batman what he shared with Bruce at the next meeting. Batman tells him that he spoke with Alfred about the lock but with Bruce about voicing his thoughts more. He asks if it helped.

Jason says yes, but he’s confused as to why Bruce would want to change at all. Or why Batman told him about those sorts of things. After all, they weren’t that big of a deal.

And Batman tries to explain that Jason shouldn’t be uncomfortable. That his goal is to make sure he’s not just safe, but happy.

Slowly, over the course of a few months, Jason opens up to Batman about different things. Everything he confesses is fixed, whether it be people he knew on the streets being arrested or helped out or even just small things about Bruce, like how he doesn’t make any noise when he walks and keeps startling him.

Jason feels himself relaxing around Batman of all people. He even looks forward to their weekly welfare checks so he can ask about the people he knew in Crime Alley.

He’s also making progress on the Alfred front since he’s allowing him to wash his own dishes and teaching him to cook.

But Bruce remains a problem.

He doesn’t know what it is. He’s really trying to trust the guy, he’s done everything Jason has asked of him through Batman. Everything, no matter how stupid Jason felt asking for it.

So he asks Batman what’s wrong with him. He tells him he wants to like Bruce, he really does, there’s nothing wrong with the guy. Batman was right. He’s just some awkward lonely dude in a giant house. So why won’t his mind let Jason trust him?

Batman tells him that trauma doesn’t work like that. That Jason may never fully trust Bruce, and that isn’t either of their faults. He’s trying, and that’s more than enough.

It all comes to a head when Alfred takes Jason shopping and their errands run pretty long. Jason just needs so much stuff, apparently.

It’s just starting to get dark out and he’s helping Alfred with the shopping by putting the cart away while he closes the trunk when he feels hands around his mouth.

He bites down as hard as he can against the gloves but it doesn’t help. There are two men and he can hear Alfred calling him, but he’s suddenly in another vehicle and he’s having trouble breathing.

He feels along the inside of his hoodie for his panic button and presses it.

There’s a lot of jeering and talk amongst his kidnappers, they’re excited for a payday. And Jason was easy pickings.

The ransom is a video where Jason is wearing a gag and told to briefly look into the camera while people talk over him, making threats and demands.

He knows something is wrong when all the lights go out in the room. He feels hands around him and starts to kick out until he’s face to face with a shadow he’s seen before. Batman is here for him.

Jason goes boneless in the hold and Batman gets him outside.

No one realized one of the kidnappers had made it onto the roof. Batman takes one bullet in the shoulder before they’re both in the Batmobile. Jason is crying and holding gauze to the hole in the armor while Batman talks softly and assures him he’s fine. Jason has no clue how the car gets them away but he’s thankful he doesn’t have to figure out what to do except put pressure on the wound.

When the doors to the batmobile open, Alfred is there and hauling them into what looks like a chrome emergency room. There are medical cots and equipment everywhere.

Alfred start pulling away the armor and Jason sits in shock as the cowl is removed and Batman sits before him as Bruce Wayne.

He’s gently shooed out of the medical section and sits down on what appears to be training mats. He doesn’t realize he’s crying until Alfred comes to fetch him and Bruce is no longer in danger from the bullet.

Bruce looks exhausted in the moment before he sees Jason and his expression clears entirely. Jason feels a numb sort of dread spill over him as he realizes the implications of what he’s seeing. All of the things he’d admitted. All of the things Bruce had done for him. That if the bullet had struck somewhere else he’d be all alone.

He’s crying again and finally Bruce’s face changes into something that isn’t that awful blankness. He looks like he’s in pain but he reaches his arm out towards Jason anyway.

And Jason practically folds into him, crying into the bandages Alfred had wrapped around Bruce.

Bruce is whispering things into his hair. Gentle things. Kind things. Reassurances and asking if Jason is okay, because he was the one who was kidnapped, the one who had been snatched from a parking lot.

But Jason can’t process it, any of it. So he stays there, crying into Bruce’s uninjured shoulder until he’s scooped up into the medical cot to cry into his chest too.

There will have to be several long conversations about everything that had happened, but they would have to wait until tomorrow.

Pt. 1 Pt. 2 Pt. 3 Pt. 4 Pt. 5 (sold separately)

[leletha-jann]

Miscellaneous headcanon that nobody asked for: the Heterodyne family doesn't have a concept of "bastard".

Oh, they'll happily accept the description, if you're yelling at them, but they never really grasped the idea of "this child is born out of wedlock and therefore a lesser heir".

Why would they? There's no doubt about whether a kid is a Heterodyne or not - they have a DNA tester in the Castle. It's shaped like a giant evil lion, it climbs out of a bone pit, and it has its drama dial turned all the way up, but functionally it is a DNA tester.

If someone showed up at Mechanicsburg with a kid years after the Heterodyne's forces had stomped through that particular region, and said, "My kid is a Spark and it's your fault, this is YOUR kid and they're trying to turn my village into kumquats", either the Chapel of Bones lion said "yes" or it said "no".

There isn't an in-between state of "yeah OK that's my kid but unofficially". Either the kid is a Heterodyne or they're not.

(For the record, I suspect any "no" verdicts got everyone involved killed very quickly. The Castle doesn't like anyone it sees as a pretender. Including kids.)

If the kid is a Heterodyne - even if their father didn't want another one - I suspect the Castle would go: "Great! Kid is Family. Family is mine to protect. Kid is mine now." And there would be another Heterodyne in the family, no different from any of the rest.

As noted elsewhere, the Heterodyne family is extraordinarily cohesive for a thousand-year dynasty of evil unassailable mad scientists. Even the rival Red and Black Heterodynes seem to have been feuding with each other for the fun of it (probably with a side of ugh, sibling). The family never really split, diffused, or fractured - as evidenced by the fact that by the time our story comes along, there are no half-forgotten cousins or distant relatives with Heterodyne blood.

This tells me that in all probability, the Heterodyne family never shuffled its bastard children off to some less visible place - and you cannot tell me that a thousand years of raider warlords who sacked Europa on the regular never accidentally ended up with a baby they didn't plan on making.

And the whole concept of an illegitimate child is founded on the acceptance of the idea that some higher power told you that you could only have kids with this one person.

...yeah, I'm not seeing any candidates for telling the Heterodynes anything. Not ones that survived the attempt, anyway.

So there's probably a solid Heterodyne family precedent for "all these kids are half-siblings", and absolutely no Heterodyne family precedent for "but this specific one is lesser for it".

[sentientstump]

i have a (very evil) question to ask... who's your favorite miracle mask character? favorite to draw, favorite to think about, favorite in general? :)

i will let the images speak.....

thank you for the ask! (⁠~⁠‾⁠▿⁠‾⁠)⁠~

[arrowsperpetualcringe]

Y'all I'm back on my bullshit

Here's a Interpol + Emmet doodle dump (in Kalos!!)

Expanding upon this post about Emmet in PLZA and also my Emmet + Interpol hcs

Tentative outfit design for this little au/story/concept I got going on.

Is an outfit design necessary?

No.

I'm just extra

plus making different outfit designs for characters I like makes me happy hrjdndjd

Added Nanu to the height comparison drawing, because I hc that he's a bit smaller than everyone else, so seeing him next to AZ was something I needed to do okay-

More Nanu, because I'm not normal about him.

I want that man to smile in be happy in a way that doesn't look snarky for 0.05 seconds so I projected my love of bread onto him.

This is probably most likely ooc as shit. (Sorry, I admittedly don't know much about Nanu, or even Looker or Anabel. I never played their games, but I have gathered what information I could from their wikis, plus as few videos, so go easy on me)

But like. I hc that if you catch him lacking and enjoying life, he'd be startled for all of 1 second, before pretending it never happened. Like he just moves on like he wasn't happy, and wasn't also startled by being perceived as genuinely happy.

Joy? What's that. Never experience that shit a day in my life.

Why is this the hc I have the most to say about... Idk...

EMMAAAAAAAAAAA

UR DAD'S HOME SWEETIE AND HE BROUGHT YOU TWO NEW PARENTS HEHE (And a strange unrelated man. Do not look at him.)

I want to give Emma a cool design too. Y'know something updated to reflect that she's been taking care of herself and the Bureau while Looker was off on other missions.

Something that says "I'm doing well for myself"

But uh I couldn't figure out what that would be, so it'll have to be for a future post hehe

Self explanatory. Interpolshipping + Emma = Nanu is a dad now fuck you

From what I've seen, he already kinda seems like the type who's casually a parental figure to any kid (though he'll never say it out right) the type who's gives tough love and advice you may not wanna hear.

I wanna see that cranked up to 11 with Emma. Has the potential to be really cute imo.

ANYWAAAAYYSS

That's it for now.

I had a lot of fun with this, just thinking about dynamics in my head

Sorry if this is all ooc asf. I don't actually know these characters in depth, but I still like them, and this is just me having fun with them.

With PLZA taking place in Kalos, there are so many ideas to explore hc wise, I could do this forever.

(If any of this interests you at all, or if you have information on any of the characters you want to tell me, feel free to drop an ask!!! Let's yell at eachother about these idiots!!! I love them smsm!!!)

[lotsofdreamb0ats]

kakyoin and his parents are a really weird and underdiscussed part of stardust crusaders. on the watsonian level, there are multiple interpretations you could have of this, and i think its an interesting show of fanon for a character that is pretty beholden to fanon interpretations.

a fairly common consensus i've seen about kakyoin's parents are that they were abusive or at least maliciously negligent.

for the record, i am totally cool with this! kakyoin's family really isn't elaborated on in canon and you can take his subtleties a lot of ways. whether its whump for whumps sake or projection, people are free to interpret the empty holes however they wish.

that being said, i've found myself... idk. not opposed, but disinterested in that take, because the view of kakyoin and his family presented by canon feels way more interesting to me. here's my take & discussion on it!

[meta headcanon-ing below the cut]

from a very young age, kakyoin is an extremely private & emotionally isolated person. this is a trait he has developed from years of feeling like explaining himself to anyone was a futile juncture because no one would believe or understand him, not even his own parents.

when kakyoin's teacher informs his mother abt his lack of desire to make friends, mrs. kakyoin (at least in the anime; cant attest to the manga) shows concern and almost... futility towards the situation. it isn't that the other students don't want to befriend noriaki. rather, noriaki doesn't want to befriend them.

we actually see a similar sentiment in holly, at least through subtext. holly is not wholly unconcerned by jotaro, but she is overly accepting of his poor behavior and struggles to acknowledge her son's flaws. holly views jotaro as younger and less in control of his behavior than he is to the point of willful ignorance.

kakyoin, meanwhile, is in a constant fight with himself over "letting" DIO manipulate and brainwash him. kakyoin is often victim-blaming towards himself -- he is weak and should've known better, should have never let his fear consume him, should have never lost control of himself and given it to DIO.

(dubiously canon material ahead, but shining diamond's demonic heartbreak is vital to my interpretation of kakyoin. treat this as you will.)

kakyoin is at his most distressed and personally tormented when he feels weak and vulnerable. he laments this weakness in himself -- immaturity, he calls it, although that is a translation -- and says no one is to blame for what DIO did unto him except himself.

and all of this, if you continue treating this version of events as canon, is with the added layer that kakyoin was literally protecting his 8-year-old cousin (ryoko-chan <3) while fighting DIO.

(as a side, hierophant green's lesser used powers (notably utilized while kakyoin has a fleshbud and almost never again) involve extreme control and precision. he is quite literally shown to puppet others from the inside using hierophant while operating his own body as well. kakyoin himself says no one can understand him without hierophant green; it isn't farfetched to say hierophant green's abilities reflect its user.)

all of this to say: i don't believe kakyoin's family was abusive in the traditional sense. i think kakyoin is the adultified child to jotaro's infantilized one.

i don't doubt kakyoin loves his parents, but it stands to reason that -- like jotaro with holly, if not more so -- there isn't a respect for his parents authority. adultified children often develop a lack of trust in the people and agencies that are supposed to protect them, like parents or teachers.

if kakyoin has felt like he could only trust himself and hierophant green his entire life, how is he supposed to seek support or protection from his parents? i honestly don't think he would. with hierophant at his side, it's easier (less disappointing) to uphold himself to this extreme standard of strength and maturity than be vulnerable with anyone.

noriaki's mother and father have eachother. noriaki has no one.

(taken from kakyoin's character profile, which you can see in full here.)

based on the flashback, i personally believe kakyoin's parents just... left him to his own devices. if noriaki doesn't want to make friends, it wouldn't be right to push him, is it? he's independent, well-mannered, an excellent student. responsible, trustworthy, far from a delinquent. so isn't it better to accept their son as he is?

even if they're not sure who he is?

as kakyoin is all shattered parts, crumpled against a water tower with a hole in his stomach halfway across the world, he looks at the clock and thinks of his parents.

...but not in search of comfort.

seeing as this is the first and only time kakyoin's parents are mentioned, i honestly wonder if kakyoin just... didn't mention them at all. if he didn't call attention, save the odd comment about being a student, to his age. to the immaturity he's so ashamed of.

(again from kakyoin's character profile.)

kakyoin went on this fifty-day journey to egypt without even consulting his parents, who earnestly believe he ran away from home and are worried to death about him.

and kakyoin KNEW they would worry, and then he knows he is dying, and all he can manage is thoughts of them sleeping and an apology. he doesn't regret going on the journey. even as he's dying, 17-year-old noriaki kakyoin treats his own demise as a necessary loss. in kakyoin's mind, life is something he could (should) wager for those he cares about, and thinking of those who care about him in return isn't enough to convince kakyoin otherwise.

all of this to say, i think kakyoin and jotaro are two sides of the same coin.

[august-parker]

I think it'd be so funny if Tony gave peter an unreasonable amount of money all the time and Peter just became desensitized to it

He never has less than a four digit number of cash and nobody knows where the fuck he gets it.

Ned: hey do you have cash? I'm kinda hungry

Peter: oh yeah I have like $3,400 ish

Ned:

Peter:

Ned: are you dead-ass??

Peter on his birthday: oh you didn't have to get me this! I can pay you back :)

MJ who got him a lego set: don't worry about it, love you :)

Peter: let me pay you back, how much was it?

MJ as he pulls out $5000 from his pocket: oh you don't have to- WHAT THE FUCK PETER

Peter: aw damn it I left my card at home

Flash: as if you have anything on it

Peter paying for his and flashs stuff out of pure spite from nothing but pocket money:

Flash: THERE'S NO FUCKING WAY YOURE NOT A PROSTITUTE

[meamiki]

Happy Anniversary In Stars and Time!! Have some Friend Quest based drawings :D

(These have specific quote picks related to them! And there's also a long ramble on why I like those specific quotes below if interested)

(And by long, I mean roughly 2k+ words of proper ramble total, so be warned before clicking keep reading this link right here to the rb!!)

[builderbrotherspizza]

// so i played around with the hc generator thing and i thought maybe i should share some of the prompts i drew with you guys. pt 1 i guess idk - 🍥

[skellymom]

😆

The Bad Batch: As Quotes from The Office

Echo:

Hunter:

Wrecker:

Crosshair:

Tech:

Post for the regs/clones here

[penumbra-mayhem]

And All That Follows (ch. 2)

aka: Put Your Ear Up to My Wall, Mistake My Heart for A Drumbeat

David fights to keep everything quiet, Asher takes on a new role, and Milo finds Tank (for better or worse).

Ch. 1 // Ch. 3 // ao3 // 4.6k words

(TW: death, car accident, grief, implied/referenced self-harm, vomiting, gore/blood, violence)

EDIT: new title (formerly known as The Fall of an Alpha, but i hated that name so i chose a new one)

————————————————

Sept 3. 2017, 11:52 pm

buzz buzz buzz…buzz buzz buzz…

David’s phone started vibrating as soon as he pulled away from the morgue. He’d placed it in his backseat—a habit Gabe had instilled in him years ago so he’d never be tempted to text and drive.

He ignored the buzzing, willing the rain battering against his car to drown out the sound. It worked; his phone eventually went silent, and David’s full attention was brought back to the barely visible road he was traversing.

buzz buzz buzz…buzz buzz buzz…

Another call. He contemplated pulling over, but Gabe’s voice hummed in his head: Patience. Not everything needs an answer right away. He decided against it. Whoever was calling would realize he wasn’t available and leave a message. 

The call ended.

buzz buzz buzz…buzz buzz buzz…

It started again. And again. And again. And again. As soon as a call ended, another began. He could feel them in his skull, like the buzzing was coming from his brain. Like his head was a freshly shaken wasp nest.

The wasps traveled down into his gut, twisting and tightening his intestines. They kept traveling, moving to his extremities. His hands went numb. Then his feet. He couldn’t feel the steering wheel. Or the gas pedal. Or the brakes. His vision began to tunnel.

No. He didn’t have time for this. He had a job to do. He needed to focus. He needed to get back to his apartment safely. He needed to get the key. He needed to go to his dad’s house. He needed to get into his study. He needed to throw up.

David found himself pulled off on the side of the road, doubled over in the rain, emptying his stomach into a bush. How embarrassing, throwing up like a little kid. That’s enough, he thought to himself, get it together. He stood up straight, but the movement was too quick and he found himself doubled over again.

Everything in him burned as it came up. It stung. 

Retreating back to his car, David quickly checked his phone. Missed calls, voice messages, and texts from various pack members flooded his screen. Someone must have found out what happened. None of them seemed urgent—nor from Asher or Milo—so he put his phone on ‘do not disturb’ and returned it to its place in the back seat.

When he sat down behind the wheel, the wasps were gone. David started the car again and continued back home.

————————————————

Asher cradled his phone, rocking gently in an effort to appease his bawling body. He told himself he had until Milo texted with an update. Then he would pull himself together. His abdomen ached as wave after wave of mourning slammed into him.

He mourned for Gabe. The officer had said he’d died at the scene, but had it been instant? Had he suffered? Did he know he was dying? Did he try to move his legs only to realize he was paralyzed from the waist down? The neck down? Did he frantically gasp for breath as his lungs slowly, agonizingly filled with blood? Had he tried desperately to pry his arm from where it was pinned to reach his phone and call his son just one more time?

He mourned for his pack. Gabe was the founder. They’d never been without him. Would they survive? Would they break into dissension? Crumble apart without leadership? Asher had heard of the devastation past packs had gone through following the death of an alpha or a founder. Gabe had been both. And the pack didn’t even know he was gone. David had said he’d tell them tomorrow at the meeting, but was that the best way?

He mourned for David. David, whose family was already so small. Who already struggled to feel and show his emotions. Asher had seen the initial impacts of this loss. Cold. Detached. Devoid. Would David recover? Was this a wound he could ever heal from? Was he in pain? Asher assumed so, but if David was, he hadn’t shown it. Was he putting on a front, a wall he wouldn’t let anyone see behind? Or was he numb? Was that worrying David? Did he feel guilty he wasn’t feeling anything for his dad’s dea—

buzz buzz

Asher jumped at the vibration in his hands. He rose from the floor and stumbled over to the couch, wiping his face with his shirt. Milo had texted:

At Tank’s place, door was left open

Asher’s stomach dropped. His fingers were a messy flurry as he texted back:

shit

txt updts

or call

davids not bakc

He waited for a reply.

————————————————

Milo pulled into the parking lot of Tank’s apartment complex. He’d past the site of Gabe’s crash on the way, scanning for a glimpse of Tank or their bike. Thankfully, he’d found neither.

But he saw Gabe’s car, and that alone almost sent him into a spiral. No wonder Tank had sounded so wrecked; the driver’s side had crumpled like paper.

As he raced through the parking lot, Milo caught a glimpse of Tank’s motorcycle parked in a large puddle to his right. He’d been right; they’d come back here. Thank god.

Once at the entrance to Tank’s building, he pressed the buzzer for their door and waited. Nothing. He pressed it again. When he was met with the same result, he started pressing every button, hoping someone would let him in. Eventually the door unlocked, and he pushed through.

Milo bounded up the stairwell to Tank’s apartment, slipping and catching himself several times on the rain-slick steps. His throat tightened when he turned a corner and spotted their door at the end of the hall, slightly ajar.

As he walked towards it, he texted Asher:

At Tank’s place, door was left open

After a few moments, his phone buzzed with a series of replies:

shit

txt updts

or call

davids not bakc

When he reached their door, Milo pushed it open further and crept into the apartment. The curtains were all drawn and the lights were off, but Milo could slightly make out a series of objects on the floor. He felt around for a switch and flicked on a light.

All the cupboards and drawers in the kitchen were open and empty, silverware and broken dishes littering the floor of Tank’s tiny studio. Milo could practically track Tank’s movements, following the dents along the wall where they had hurled each cup and plate and fork and knife.

Then his eyes landed on blood—a piece of broken glass on the floor, glistening crimson along its sharp edge. Milo trailed the fat red drops to the closed bathroom door. The sight and faint smell of Tank’s blood made his head spin.

“Tank?” he called out.

A smear of blood glinted on the door handle. He gave two soft knocks. “Tank, please,” he tried again, “I know you’re in there.”

A wretched voice answered from the other side of the door, “Go away.”

He ignored them and tried the handle, grimacing at the slick feeling of fresh blood on his hand. Luckily, they’d left it unlocked.

Pushing the door open, Milo peered inside the dark bathroom. Tank was a huddled mass in the corner of their shower, head buried in their arms.

“I said go away, Miles!” they shouted, raising their head just enough to glare at him over their arms, eyes glinting with fury.

Milo flinched but didn’t leave. Crouching down, he spoke in as calm of a tone as he could muster, “Where’re you hurt, Tank?”

“Get. Out.”

“I’m not gonna do that,” Milo replied, “Can I turn on the light?”

“No,” they snapped.

“Okay." Milo took out his phone and turned on his flashlight instead. He tried to ignore the trail of blood leading to Tank as he opened up their mirror cabinet, then the one under their sink.

“What’re you doing?”

“Looking for your first aid kit.”

“I don’t have a first aid kit,” they sneered.

Milo shined his light at Tank, who shrunk against it, burying their head again in their arms. They were soaking wet from the rain and shaking terribly. He cast the light away from them.

“Just leave!” they moaned.

“No. You’re injured, and since you have nothing to treat it with, I’m taking you back to Ash and David’s,” he retorted.

A snarl gurgled up from deep in Tank’s chest as Milo approached.

“You can growl at me all you want, I don’t give a damn.”

The snarl grew louder the closer he got. But once he kneeled down in front of them, it began to change, breaking up and losing its bite.

“I know,” he whispered, tears welling in his eyes as Tank began to cry, “I know, Tank.”

He placed a tentative hand on their arm. They trembled under his touch, but didn’t pull away. 

“Just come with me, please. You don’t have to talk about it. You can be as angry as you want. I don’t care. I just want to make sure you’re safe,” Milo said as he set his phone down, flashlight to the floor.

“I-I am,” they lied, their sobs warping their words. 

“You’re bleeding from somewhere, I saw the blood in the kitchen and in here. So no, you’re not,” Milo countered. 

“…it’s n-n-not b-bad,” Tank lied again. 

“Can I see?”

Tank hesitated, then raised their head. Milo couldn’t make much out. He flipped his phone around, so the light pointed up at the ceiling.

He choked down a gasp at the sight of Tank’s face. The gash just under their left eye was deep, blood still pumping out slowly, drenching their cheek and dripping down their neck. It was in their hair, on their clothes, on their hands.

“Not that bad, my ass,” Milo muttered, “Tank, this needs a healer.”

“No. No healers,” they choked out, tears leaving trails in their blood.

Milo knew accepting any sort of medical help was difficult for Tank. They never talked about it, but he assumed there was some sort of trauma or pride or fear stopping them. He was trying to be understanding, he really was, but it was all too much. It was late, he was spent, Tank was bleeding, and Gabe was dead.

“Fine,” Milo spat, “You either go back to Ash and David’s and let me sew it up, cause it’s going to need stitches, or I stay here and call a damn healer. Your fucking choice.”

That shut them up. Their sobs subsided and they glared with all the fury left in their trembling body before muttering, “Okay. I’ll go with you.”

————————————————

At the sound of the front door opening, Asher sprang up and raced to the hall. "Tank?"

David stood in the doorway, rainwater dripping like tears from his lashes. He looked as stoic as before, but now a sickly tinge covered his features. 

"David," Asher breathed, "Was it...was it him?"

"Yes," he muttered, walking inside and shutting the door, "What happened?"

"What d'you mean?"

"You thought I was Tank." David stopped in front of him. 

"I just uh...hoped..."

“What happened?” David repeated, his voice low and tense. He didn’t have the time nor energy for hesitation. His stare bored into Asher, demanding an answer.

"T-Tank saw Gabe's car," Asher spluttered. David's eyes widened. "They called Milo when they saw it. He had to tell them what happened, he—we couldn’t lie to them. Milo went to their place. He texted me when he got there but he hasn’t updated since.”

Of course. Of course they couldn’t have just waited to tell anyone until David got back. Or until tomorrow, like he told them. David pulled out his phone, turning off ‘do not disturb’. There were more missed calls and texts, but none from Milo or Tank. He pulled up Milo’s contact and called him. 

“Hello?” Milo’s voice oozed with trepidation. 

David’s was dry and sharp. “Is Tank ok?”

“…yes. We’re heading to my car now, we’ll meet you back at your place.”

“Are they hurt?”

buzz buzz buzz…buzz buzz buzz…

David started getting another call. He ignored it. 

“Um…” David could tell Milo was choosing his words carefully, but for David’s sake or Tank’s he didn’t know. “Yes, but it’ll be ok.”

David gripped his phone tighter, but kept his rising worry out of his tone. He needed to stay level, anything less would just be detrimental to everyone’s safety.

buzz buzz buzz…buzz buzz buzz…

“Take them to a healer.”

David heard Asher mutter ‘fuck’ behind him. There was a long pause on Milo’s end, filled only with the sound of rain and Milo’s breathing as he walked. 

“Milo.”

Finally, he replied, “We’ll be at your place soon.” And with that, Milo hung up.

buzz buzz buzz…buzz buzz buzz…

The buzzing in David’s head started again, echoing those from his phone. He stuffed his phone back into his pocket as he stormed past a bewildered Asher and into his bedroom. 

buzz buzz buzz…buzz buzz buzz…

“David? David, what did Milo say? Is Tank ok?” Asher called out as he followed, making the wasps in David’s head angrier. He watched David tear through the drawers of his desk, searching for what, Asher didn’t know. 

buzz buzz buzz…buzz buzz buzz…

Asher called his name several more times before David seemed to hear him. He whipped his head around.

“Is Tank hurt?”

buzz buzz buzz…buzz buzz buzz…

“Yes,” David replied before continuing his search, “But Milo says it’s fine, so I’m hoping it’s not too bad. They won’t go to a healer, no surprise there, so they’re coming back here.”

buzz buzz buzz…buzz buzz buzz… 

“Who is calling you?”

David finally found what he was looking for; he pulled out the key and clipped it onto his key ring. “The pack. Someone must have found out. Maybe the wreck was on the news or someone saw it like Tank did. They’ve been calling since I left the morgue.”

David pushed past Asher again and started heading towards the front door. He fought back the wasps in his head. 

buzz buzz buzz…buzz buzz buzz… 

“Are you going to answer?” Asher asked as he followed. 

buzz buzz buzz…buzz buzz buzz…

“No.”

buzz buzz buzz…buzz buzz buzz…

“Why not?”

buzz buzz buzz…buzz buzz buzz…

He opened the front door. “I’ll talk to them tomorrow,” buzz buzz buzz…buzz buzz buzz… “At the pack meeting.”

“David they can’t wait that long,” buzz buzz buzz…buzz buzz buzz… “They already know. Or they’ve at least heard rumors. You need to talk to them.”

“Well, I don’t have the time!” buzz buzz buzz…buzz buzz buzz… “I’ve got to get to my dad’s house and figure all this shit out,” David growled. The wasps were winning; he was starting to lose focus. He turned to leave. 

buzz buzz buzz…buzz buzz buzz…

“Then let me do it.”

David paused. 

buzz buzz buzz…buzz buzz buzz…

“What?” he asked over his shoulder. 

buzz buzz buzz…buzz buzz buzz…

Asher’s voice took on an edge David had never heard from him before, “Let me go with you and answer the calls,” buzz buzz buzz…buzz buzz buzz…“I’ll still be near, so you can get to your phone if you need to. But this way, you won’t be distracted, and the pack won’t be left in the dark all night.”

buzz buzz buzz…buzz buzz buzz…

David wanted to say no. Having Asher near right now felt like a liability. But he was right. buzz buzz buzz…buzz buzz buzz…The pack already knew, and keeping them in the dark was only going to incite panic. That and David needed the buzzing to stop, both from his phone and his head. 

buzz buzz buzz…buzz buzz buzz…

David unlocked his phone and handed it to Asher. 

————————————————

“Hey, can you see who just texted me?” Milo asked, keeping his eyes fixed on the road. 

Tank wiped their hands as well as they could on their jeans before picking up Milo’s phone. 

goin w david 2 gabes

key undr mat

b back l8r

“It’s Ash,” they reported, “He’s going to Gabe’s place with David? He said the key is under the mat and they’ll be back later.”

“Why’re they—nevermind. Can you text him back and let him know we’re almost to his place and also ask if David has a suturing kit? Password’s 0209.”

Almost to ur place, u got a suture kit?

tank???

The one and only, how’d u know?

u txt dif

y do u hav milos phone

He’s driving

oh rite

r u ok

Im fine, suture kit?

david says in bthrm

Gotcha

y do u need it

Dont worry bout it

————————————————

“…yeah Kelsey, it’s true…I know…we don’t know that yet…yes, tomorrow morning at 11…okay…hey, you text me if you need anything…okay…okay, I’ll see you tomorrow, try and get some rest…I will…bye K.” 

Asher ended the call and trotted after David, who was already unlocking Gabe’s front door. He rubbed his eyes in the brief moment of silence before David’s phone started buzzing again. 

“Hey, Mika…yeah, it was a car crash…”

David was stuck in the doorway. The foyer loomed before him, both nauseatingly familiar and eerily alien. His childhood home was now as much a husk as his father was. It made the wasps in David’s stomach writhe. 

Asher was staring at him, David could feel it. So, he took a step inside. Then another. And another. It almost felt like trespassing. 

There was a David who used to live here. Who at seven years old had learned the virtue of honesty when he admitted to breaking the kitchen window. Whose first loose tooth was yanked out by a string attached to the front door. Who used to visit every week after he moved out. Who mended the roof and repainted the baseboards. Who spent countless hours listening to his father’s stories by the fireplace.  

That was not this David, the David treading across the floorboards like a thief. 

He reached his father’s study and unlocked it with the key he’d retrieved earlier. Asher ended his call and said, “I’ll be in the living room. Let me know if you need anything.”

David nodded and walked into the study, closing the door behind him. 

It smelled like him: rosemary, leather, and something distinctly Gabe. The scent should’ve been comforting, but it just stirred the wasps up, making him lightheaded as they whirled.

David switched on the desk lamp. Everything was just as he remembered:

Books lined the walls, organized alphabetically by last name. Stacks of paper sat neatly on the outskirts of the desk’s surface, leaving the middle open for work. A lumpy mug David had made in high school held a collection of pens and pencils. 

David walked around the desk. Three picture frames adorned the polished oak. The first held a pack photo from the previous year’s Solstice. The second held a candid of David’s mother, sticking her tongue out at the camera as she ran through a yard sprinkler. The third held a picture of Gabe and David on their most recent camping trip, their faces wild and beaming. 

On the back of Gabe’s chair hung his jacket. David felt the black leather—soft with use and dedicated upkeep. 

The wasps were stinging his eyes; David pressed his fingers into them, seeing sparks as he crushed the bugs behind his eyelids. He collapsed into the seat and focused on his breathing, forcing the wasps in his chest to move in an orderly fashion. Not here. Not yet. He had a job to do. 

David opened the largest drawer of the desk and began to gather what he needed. 

————————————————

"Shit, Tank, this looks really bad.”

Milo sat back on his heels; the cold of the tile seeped through his pants and into his skin. Tank stayed still in their position on the bathroom floor as Milo leaned in again, holding the needle tight in his hand.

After a moment, he leaned back again, exclaiming, "Fuck, I don't know how to sew stitches! I mean, my mom taught me to sew but skin is so fucking different than fabric. It moves and bleeds and-and, for fuck's sake, it's your face, can we please get a healer?"

Tank scowled but didn't reply, biting the inside of their cheek to keep from snapping.

"Alright, fine. Okay. But I'm gonna have to go slow. I don't know what I'm doing and, again, this is your face," Milo warned them.

"Just let me do it, then," Tank muttered. 

He dismissed the offer, "No, you've got your shaky hand."

"I can use the other."

"No, cause that's not your dominant hand. You've got to do this with your dominant hand, and that's your shaky hand. You're gonna scar real bad if you—”

"I don't care about scars."

"You'll care about this one."

"I have other scars on my face, I really don't care."

"You'll care about this one."

Tank looked away, the weight of the night and how they got there in the first place pulling them back down into silence. Seeing he’d won, for now, Milo breathed deep and tilted Tank’s head up slightly with one hand. He held the needle close to their cheek, whispering, "Okay. I'm gonna start."

Tank winced as the needle pierced their skin, and Milo almost called the whole thing off. But he kept going, and they quickly stopped wincing.

Milo was laser focused, doing his best to keep the stitches small and tidy. But when he was about halfway done, a tear rolled down into the gash, stirring Milo from his concentrated state. He used a gentle thumb to brush away the tears on Tank's cheeks.

"I'm not crying cause it hurts," Tank whispered, "It doesn't hurt."

"I know," Milo murmured, "...almost done."

Despite the circumstances, a sort of morbid satisfaction stirred in Milo at the sight of the bloody rift closing under his hand. It felt good, felt right, to be pulling something back together when everything was falling apart. 

When he finished the last stitch, Milo placed a large bandaid over the gash. Tank stared down at their hands while Milo put away the suturing kit. 

As he began scrubbing the dried blood off his hands in the sink, Tank explained:

“I didn’t mean to do this, you know.”

Milo stayed quiet, giving Tank the space to talk more if they wanted. But the silence just made them feel more pressured to defend themself.

“Well, I did mean to throw that glass, I just, I didn’t mean for it to throw itself back at me,” they clarified.”

“Okay,” Milo said. His tone came out of his mouth light, but fell heavy on Tank’s ears. 

“I wasn’t trying to draw attention to myself,” Tank asserted, their anxiety rising.

“Okay,” Milo repeated. The discussion didn’t need to go any further. He didn’t even know why it was happening in the first place. 

Tank blinked tears from their eyes. “I wouldn’t do that. I wouldn’t purposely pull everyone’s attention from Gabe.”

Milo turned around and leaned against the sink, trying to defuse them, “I believe you, Tank. I know you. You would’ve let yourself bleed out in that shower before ever coming to me or anyone else for help. Especially tonight.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“Of course it’s a bad thing, Tank!” Milo threw his hands up, gripping tightly onto his braids.

“How is that a bad thing?!?”

“Because you can’t—I just—ugh, I can’t have this conversation right now. I need…I don’t know what I need, but it’s not any more of this,” Milo shot. 

Tank’s face twitched from the blow. They staggered to their feet. “Fine. Then I’ll leave.”

“What? Tank, no—”

“You stitched me up. Thanks. Now I’m leaving.” They threw open the bathroom door. 

Milo followed them down the hall, grumbling, “Tank, you don’t even have a ride.”

“I’ll walk.”

He rolled his eyes. They were being ridiculous.  “That’ll take you forever, especially in this weather.”

Tank whipped around, hissing, “I don’t give a fuck. You don’t need me here, you said it yourself.”

“I didn’t mean it that way.”

“Well it sure did fucking sound like it.”

They stormed towards the door, but Milo slipped in front of them and blocked their path. 

“I just meant I don’t need to talk about that anymore!” he exclaimed, gesturing to Tank’s cheek, “We can talk about Gabe. We can talk about how we feel. We can talk about the future and the pack and what this all means going forward. Or we could not talk at all! But I don’t want to talk about shit that’s already happened. I don’t want to talk about shit that didn’t even happen in the first place. That’s not productive.”

“I don’t care about being productive,” they spat. 

“But you care about David, right? If you won’t stay for yourself or for me, stay for him.”

“He’s not even here.”

“But he’ll be back. And you know how he gets; he’s going to need us.”

“He doesn’t need me.”

“Yes, he does,” he groaned. 

Milo’s phone began to vibrate. 

Tank cried out, “No, he doesn’t! He doesn’t need my mess on top of everything else going on.”

As Milo dug his phone out of his pocket, Tank shoved past him and raced out the front door. 

Milo’s heart stuttered at the name on his screen. He rushed to the open door, yelling into the storm, “Tank, stop! Tank, please come back! Tank!”

Tears welling in his eyes, he leaned his weight against the door frame and answered the call. 

“Mom?….yeah, it’s true. Gabe’s dead.”

Wails erupted through his phone, scraping Milo hollow. 

————————————————

David found everything in under ten minutes—unsurprisingly, given how organized Gabe was and how pressed David was to leave. 

When he’d gathered the last of what he needed, he locked the study and walked into the living room. Asher was pacing, on another call of what seemed an endless barrage. He glanced at David and was summoned by a jerk of the latter’s head. 

The two left the house and drove back home, Asher answering calls and texts the whole way back. When they reentered their apartment, they heard Milo’s voice trickling down the hallway:

“Yeah, I know…no, but I’m sure we’ll find out more tomorrow…Oh, David and Ash are back. I’m gonna talk to them and then head over…no the rain has died down, I’ll be fine…yeah…okay, I will, I promise…okay, see you soon…I love you too, ma.”

He looked up at David and Asher. 

“Is Tank okay?” Asher asked. 

“Huh?” Milo replied in a daze. 

“They had to get stitches?”

“Oh right…um, yeah they fell on their way to their apartment after they saw the crash. The rain made their stairwell slippery and they busted their face open. But I stitched them up, best I could,” Milo lied. 

Asher nodded before getting another call. He answered, walking away into the kitchen. 

“Where are they now?” David asked, clutching a  handful of manila folders, a briefcase, and a familiar jacket. 

“They uh,” Milo looked away, “They left.”

The buzzing picked back up in David’s head. “Left?”

“…we got into a fight.”

David breathed out slowly, muttering under his breath, “Tank.”

“No, no, it’s my fault! I was distracted, I wasn’t careful with my words, I wasn’t listening to them. They left, I don’t know where, and I was gonna chase after them but then my mom called and…” Milo wiped the back of his hand across his face. 

The sight of Milo’s tear-streaked cheeks turned the hum in David’s head into a cacophony. 

“I think I’m gonna stay at hers tonight,” Milo croaked as he gathered his things, “She’s really upset.”

“Of course,” David replied, internally cursing that he couldn’t bring himself to say more. 

“I um, I’ll be at the meeting tomorrow. I’ll text Ash for the details,” Milo babbled. He stopped by the front door. “David. If you need anything, you text me. Or call me. You hear?”

“I hear,” David lied, the buzzing in his head drowning everything out.

[bugs-with-webs]

shadow has the most unhinged medical techniques to ever exist in the history of the world

everyone in the main cast has seen it at least once, whether they were the one being treated or they were watching

every time, they think ‘oh this cant possibly work’ but alas. every time, they are proven wrong

and it isnt even shit that, in a million years, you would think to do

not even the most unhinged being could come up with thus shit

just. imagine:

someone is sick and instead of doing what a normal person would do, this motherfucker mixes. idk. shampoo and yellow gatorade, pours it on their head, and it fucking works within 10 minutes.

no one knows how he does it. fuck. even he doesnt know how he knows itll work. but it does. and he just has a feeling ‘hm. yes. thyme, matted cat fur and tree sap will be able to fix your broken bone’ and it fucking works

no one is more surprised at how well it works than he is

[picturesofponies]

Could you draw Fresh Coat and Candy Apples as wlw?

They definitely have a carnival stand at fairs

[radioroxx]

wait ok fr i cannot stop thinking abt family hcs for the sweethearts since making the folmouth daughter post. its getting kind of dangerous

[miss-conner3]

Magic Tent

A silly headcanon I have for the cult is that the Mating Tent, aside from serving its obvious purpose, is magical. This means that any couple, no matter who they are, can have a baby (egg) if they get in there.

Everyone knows it.

The main reason no one enters is because… well… they've lived child-free for decades. ¿Why start now?

My lamb doesn't know whether to laugh or cry.

Eventually, this will be resolved, because there are couples who want to have children.

But it takes time.

An unfortunately long time XD