#headcanons applied

[conqueeruu]

Sunny: OMORI fanart for "Silhouette of a Wilted Flower" by SunnyBunflower on Wattpad!

Jesus this is so many variations my bad it's just that hhhhhhhhhhhhh I want you to be able to see the actual picture and have realistic, intentional lighting.. the first two are just for the aesthetics though, they look good though.

Time: 52 minutes and 53 minutes FUCK.

Artist: conqueeruu (GUESS WHO🤞🏼🤞🏼)

Start: April 19, 2023 (5:56 PM) GOD DAMN.

End: October 9, 2023 (12:30 PM) .......... ok

53 HOURS. AND OVER THE SPAN OF ABOUT 6 MONTHS. I guess worth it considering I actually didn't work on this thing for a good what.. 3-4 months.. ANYWAYS.

GUYS IF YOU LOVE OR LIKE THE OMORI SHIP SUNFLOWER, I HEAVILY RECOMMENDED CHECKING OUT AND READING FICS WRITTEN BY @SunnyBunflower ON WATTPAD!!!!! THEY'RE REALLY GOOD, THEY'RE LONG, AND THE PLOT'S ARE ABSOLUTELY AMAZING!!! Their book "Silhouette of a Wilted Flower" IS SO GOOD. I won't spoil anything but during a couple chapters Basil and Sunny are somewhere and Sunny is just.. looking at him. Basil repeats "Why's Sunny giving me that look?", "Seriously.. why is Sunny looking at me like that.?", or "Sunny's staring at me.. why like that? I hope I didn't do anything.." over and over during the times they (Basil) makes eye contact. When they aren't talking to someone or when attention is diverted away from Basil, Sunny's always already looking at Basil.

I feel like Sunny, a greasy, unkept teenager looking at the accomplice after 4 YEARS. Would be 1, unsettling, 2, it would just be kinda a gaping look, and 3, he's in his head a lot and there's 2 (headspace Basil and stranger, he just doesn't know it in this point of the story that stranger is Basil) versions of basil he's used to seeing, not real world Basil so I could sense confusion in that look, BUT, because he genuinely hasn't seen sunlight in 1460 days or more, he wouldn't have a grasp on how confusion is supposed to look on a teenager who is in control of their own facial expressions and how to properly react. it's not like he's practicing stuff either so he just would kinda.. look.. at real world Basil. That's why he looks like that lmao. I also feel like Sunny has been sheltered a lot. I can and most likely will make a separate rant on Sunny himself and how I feel like the reality and logistics of his life have affected him internally and physically.

Sunny wakes up from his sleep from Basis panic attack, this man decided to LOOM over him like a big bad guy pushed him into corner and is just about to beat the shit outta him (he doesn't actually do this in the story guys), and STARE AT HIS ACCOMPLICE OF A "BEST FRIEND" AND LOOKS AT HIM, MID PANIC ATTACK BRO💀💀

Alright here's the speed paint LMAO😭

[lassieposting]

Tav, using their Pet Owner Voice: What have you got in your mouth? What are you eating? Drop it! Drop it right now!

Scratch: [whines and drops Wyll's boot]

Owlbear Cub: [guiltily spits out Boo, alive and unharmed]

Halsin, currently a bear: [drops a half-eaten salmon and makes an indignant noise]

Astarion: [startles at the raised voice, lets go of Tav's wrist, reclaims it and goes back to his breakfast once he realises they're not talking to him]

Gale: [chewing faster]

Tav, sternly: Gale...

Gale: [reluctantly spits out a powerful magical artefact into Tav's outstretched hand]

Tav, muttering under their breath: Can't have shit in the Gate.

Gale, ruefully rubbing the back of his neck, also under his breath: Gods forbid a wizard do anything

[drenched-in-sunlight]

somos livres como girassóis de Van Gogh

(we are free like Van Gogh’s sunflowers)

[dokidokidraws]

Sending the ace-ification beam directly at my blorbos…..... they’re all ace because I am and I said so

[starry-bi-sky]

i need to get this out of my head before i continue clone^2 but danny being the first batkid. Like, standard procedure stuff: his parents and sister die, danny ends up with Vlad Masters. He drags him along to stereotypical galas and stuff; Danny is not having a good time.

He ends up going to one of the Wayne Galas being hosted ever since elusive Bruce Wayne has returned to Gotham. Vlad is crowing about having this opportunity as he's been wanting to sink his claws into the company for a long while now. Danny is too busy grieving to care what he wants.

And like most Galas, once Vlad is done showing him off to the other socialites and the like, he disappears. Off to a dark corner, or to one of the many balconies; doesn't matter. There he runs into said star of the show, Bruce who is still young, has been Batman for at least a year at this point, but still getting used to all these damn people and socializing. He's stepped off to hide for a few minutes before stepping back into the shark tank.

And he runs into a kid with circles under his eyes and a dull gleam in them. Familiar, like looking into a mirror.

Danny tries to excuse himself, he hasn't stopped crying since his parents died and it's been months. He rubs his eyes and stands up, and stumbles over a half-hearted apology to Mister Wayne. Some of Vlad's etiquette lessons kicking in.

Bruce is awkward, but he softens. "That's alright, lad," he says, pulling up some of that Brucie Wayne confidence, "I was just coming out here to get some fresh air."

There's a little pressing; Bruce asks who he's here with, Danny says, voice quiet and grief-stricken, that he's with his godfather Vlad Masters. Bruce asks him if he knows where he is, and Danny tells him he does. Bruce offers to leave, Danny tells him to do whatever he wants.

It ends with Bruce staying, standing off to the side with Danny in silence. Neither of them say a word, and Danny eventually leaves first in that same silence.

Bruce looks into Vlad Masters after everything is over, his interest piqued. He finds news about him taking in Danny Fenton: he looks into Danny Fenton. He finds news articles about his parents' deaths, their occupations, everything he can get his hands on.

At the next gala, he sees Danny again. And he looks the same as ever: quiet like a ghost, just as pale, and full of grief. Bruce sits in silence with him again for nearly ten minutes before he strikes a conversation.

"Do you like to do anything?"

Nothing. Just silence.

Bruce isn't quite sure what to do: comfort is not his forte, and Danny doesn't know him. He's smart enough to know that. So he starts talking about other things; anything he can think of that Brucie Wayne might say, that also wasn't inappropriate for a kid to hear.

Danny says nothing the entire time, and is again the first to leave.

Bruce watches from a distance as he intercts with Vlad Masters; how Vlad Masters interacts with him. He doesn't like what he sees: Vlad Masters keeps a hand on Danny's shoulder like one would hold onto the collar of a dog. He parades him around like a trophy he won.

And there are moments, when someone gets too close or when someone tries to shake Danny's hand, of deep possessiveness that flints over Vlad Masters' eyes. Like a dragon guarding a horde.

He plays the act of doting godfather well: but Bruce knows a liar when he sees one. Like recognizes like.

Danny is dull-eyed and blank faced the entire time; he looks miserable.

So Bruce tries to host more parties; if only so that he can talk to Danny alone. Vlad seems all too happy to attend, toting Danny along like a ribbon, and on the dot every hour, Danny slips away to somewhere to hide. Bruce appears twenty minutes later.

"I was looking into your godfather's company," he says one night, trying to think of more things to say. Some nights all they do is sit in silence. "Some of my shareholders were thinking of partnering up--"

"Don't."

He stops. Danny hardly says a word to him, he doesn't even look at him -- he's sitting on the ground, his head in his knees. Like he's trying to hide from the world. But he's looking, blue eyes piercing up at Bruce.

Bruce tilts his head, practiced puppy-like. "Pardon?"

"Don't." Danny says, strongly. "Don't make any deals with Vlad."

It's the most words Danny's spoken to him, and there's a look in his eyes like a candle finding its spark. Something hard. Bruce presses further, "And why is that?"

The spark flutters, and flushes out. Danny blinks like he's coming out of a trance, and slumps back into himself. "Just don't."

Bruce stares at him, thoughtful, before looking away. "Alright. I won't."

And they fall back into silence.

Danny, when he leaves, turns to look at Bruce, "I mean it." He says; soft like he's telling a secret, "Don't make any deals with him. Don't be alone with him. Don't work with him."

He's scampered away before Bruce can question him further.

(He never planned on working with Vlad Masters and his company; he's done his research. He's seen the misfortune. But nothing ever leads back to him. There's no evidence of anything. But Danny knows something.)

At their next meeting, Danny starts the conversation. It's new, and it's welcomed. He says, cutting through their five minute quiet, that he likes stars. And he doesn't like that he can't see them in Gotham.

Bruce hums in interest, and Danny continues talking. It's as if floodgates had been opened, and as Bruce takes a sip of his wine, it tastes like victory.

("Tucker told me once--") ("Tucker?") ("Oh-- uh, one of my best friends. He's a tech geek. We haven't talked in a while.")

(Danny shut down in his grief -- his friends are worried, but can't reach him. When he goes back to the manor with Vlad, he fishes out his phone and sends them a message.)

(They are ecstatic to hear from him.)

It all culminates until one day, when Danny is leaving to go back inside, that Bruce speaks up. "You know," He says, leaning against the railing. "The manor has many rooms; plenty of space for a guest."

The implication there, hidden between the lines. And Danny is smart, he looks at Bruce with a sharp glean in his eyes, and he nods. "Good to know."

The next time they see each other, Danny has something in his hands. "Can you hold onto something for me?" He asks.

When Bruce agrees, Danny places a pearl into his palm. or, at least, it's something that looks like a pearl. Because it's cold to the touch; sinking into Bruce's white silk gloves with ease and shimmering like an opal. It moves a little as it settles into his hand, and the moves like its full of liquid.

Bruce has never seen anything like it before, but he does know this; it's not human. "What is it?" He asks, and Danny looks uncomfortable.

"I can't tell you that." He says, shifting on his foot like he's scared of someone seeing it. "But please be careful with it. Treat it like it's extremely fragile."

When Bruce gets home, he puts it in an empty ring box and hides the box in the cave. He tries researching into what it is. he can't find anything concrete.

Everything comes to a head one day when Danny appears at the manor's doorstep one evening, soaking wet in the rain, and bleeding from the side.

[hanafubukki]

Thinking about Baby Malleus being mad at Lilia.

Baby Malleus who has some control of his powers and uses it to find the darkest and deepest corner of the castle that’s hard to reach.

He would fit, whether it’s under a bed or in some corner of a room being covered by wardrobes or something, and he would stay there.

He’s angry at Lilia and won’t come out. Lilia is too big to reach him and his arms too short. There’s some magic at play too.

Baby Malleus would stare at him petulantly and turn away in a huff. Lilia pleading for Malleus to come out and he can’t do anything because his magic is stronger than he expected.

Lilia didn’t know what was worse.

Malleus throwing a tantrum and burning his hair or this.

Where Malleus is oddly quiet and out of reach.

[It reminds Lilia of those times when Malleus was still in his egg. When he was trying desperately to hatch him. He was just as quiet and lonely. It makes Lilia that much more desperate.]

And it’s definitely this, when he’s so far away from him. It makes his heart ache.

When Malleus calms down and he’s in Lilia’s arms once more, Lilia breaths a sigh of relief. His arms that much tighter around the little one.

He won’t loose him again.

His son.

[loveaetingkids]

(Like or reblog if you wanna use)

[lazycranberrydoodles]

diversity win! your doomed greek tragedy ship is genderfluid!

[turtleblogatlast]

I like to think that Leo one day decides to really play around with his portaling and teleportation abilities and see the full extent of them.

Like - continuously throwing one sword and teleporting to it while throwing the next one immediately and repeating this as long as he can to see how far he can keep it up without stopping.

Making little portals in the air that lead right up against the ground so he could potentially just stand on the portal in the middle of the sky.

Ultimate storage system - anything anywhere at any time is available if he knows where to get it (personally my headcanon for why he goes from two satchels to one in the movie.)

Phasing to avoid attacks - like, he could lightly toss a sword a single centimeter and teleport to it, and in that short amount of time he can completely avoid hits.

If they ever do go to space and end up on different planets, with enough training he can just…go there, whenever. Not only would this be great for being well traveled and having more places to go in general, but this also opens up more room for connections and allies that could assist them the next time they need help against a grand foe.

Leo can easily remove injured team members from a fight and get them help without having to account for transportation times.

On that note - Leo’s teleportation in particular acts on a particle level. It’s quite literally breaking him down into particles and remaking him every time he uses it. Both for him and for anyone he uses it on. Who’s to say it can’t be used for healing? At least for basic wounds.

None of this even touches upon the offensive potential of both portals and teleportation. Leo’s abilities flourish more as a support main, but that doesn’t mean those abilities can’t easily be used as weapons - and I don’t think I need to get into how exactly they can be. Portal chopping alone can take on a very different meaning…

Furthermore, I gotta wonder if he’ll always need the swords for this, or if he could one day be able to achieve the same results without them.

My point being - teleportation and portals are super OP. Even with the abilities Leo has in present they are so unbelievably adaptable and so fun to think about in terms of basic mechanics.

[maskofnova]

🎶𝘐 𝘑𝘜𝘚𝘛 𝘊𝘈𝘕𝘛 𝘎𝘌𝘛 𝘠𝘈 𝘖𝘜𝘛𝘛𝘈 𝘔𝘠 𝘏𝘌𝘈𝘋🎶

(Actually really proud of how these turned out)

[meimeikyu]

thinking

cross would sleep like completely straight arms to his sides full on solider position. it does not look comfortable

horror sleeps relatively normally but he only sleeps on his back or on the side of his head thats not damaged. also i think hed sleep sitting up sometimes

killer takes up as much space as physically possible and somehow more??? will fall off the bed. will also sleep on top of someone

dust curls in on himself as tight as possible and is like. a tiny ball. cat mode

nightmare doesnt sleep .

[tizeline]

Is all brothers' eyes brown, or was it Donnie and Leo twinning?

I've seen a lot of different headcanons on what the turtles' eyecolours are, and I love how much variation there is and people having different ideas is always fun.

But goddamit I need more people to start appreciating brown-eyed turtles more!! There is a noticable and severe lack of brown eyes headcanons and it makes me sad :(

Specifically, I see them as having really dark brown eyes, almost black, except for when the lights hit their eyes at just the right spot and you can see a hint of brown peeking through

I do sometimes draw their eyes with a bit of brown in them, but it’s pretty subtle so I don’t expect people to have noticed lol

[thatdoodledcrow]

It said [ 🟡 ]

[itsdappleagain]

why is carmen wearing that

click for better quality!

thank you @jackie-shitposts for sending me the post that inspired this. and both you and @emily-prentits for helping me see the light of making six different trauma shirts <3

more versions under the cut because i couldnt pick just one traumatic moment. tell me which one is your favorite

[marzipanandminutiae]

I miss people using non-medicalized terms for other people's passions

like. well and good to talk about "hyperfixations," "special interests [in the context of an autistic person's favorite subject]," or "infodumping" if you have ADD/ADHD or autism, or are talking about someone who is, but...that's not everyone who feels strongly about something, obsesses, or loves talking about their interests. those words mean specific things, associated with specific forms of neurodivergence

don't assume everyone is comfortable with that language

"rambling" is a word; so is "ranting." "obsession" is a word. "passion" is a word. learn them and use them

[lunarw0rks]

wait ong imagine something where the reader is loopy from the medicine she took an accidentally tells tf141 she’s in love with them

backstory; you broke your arm slipping on icy pavement. naturally, your first instinct was to call your long-time close friend, who's now your moral support at the clinic.

you're really putting his bedside manner to the test.

୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ ❀ *ੈ ✩ ‧₊˚

PRICE

in the midst of stroking your hair, waiting for your eyes to flutter open after getting the cast put on.

“see? all better.” he smiles warmly, watching you examine the chunky cast now setting your arm in place.

of course, sluggishly and with sleepy eyes from whatever they have you doped up on.

after a series of tired questions; how long were you out, how bad is the break, etc… you started to sober up a bit — but still sedated and slurring your words.

his fingers continued stroking your hair, moving strands from your face when you’d twitch too much.

“you’ve always been good to me. a good friend… so good to me, john.” you give a loopy smile, cherishing the feeling of his caress. “i think i’m falling in love with you. how crazy is that?”

even in the worst of states, you get the better of him.

price’s blood runs cold, the caress of his hand stopping momentarily. “oh, sweetheart, you won’t remember this tomorrow.” he shakes the confession off, trying his best to maintain his role of moral support.

you’ve made it hard. very hard.

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SIMON

didn't know how to comfort you with words — but got there as fast as he could when you called him. even though he didn't say much, it was obvious you gave him a scare, and he was relieved to find it was just a patch of ice and not internal bleeding.

promised to get you a milkshake after, so that makes up for it.

and with simon, you've learned that's a big step for him. to make promises, and to nurture and spoil.

he wanted to stay in the waiting room, but since you were in pain and pleaded for him to stay, there wasn't much bickering he could do with you. besides, you were drugged up; what could possibly go wrong? ...right?

sat in the chair beside the exam table, he tapped his foot anxiously while the cast was being put on. he didn't say much, but his focus was mainly on you or what the doctor was doing with your injury.

one of the few perks the horrors he'd seen; a broken arm is nothing to squirm about.

the confession happened when you were about to be discharged. after all the paperwork, simon held all your things for you without question, to prevent any strain on the fresh cast.

you wouldn't get up right away. you needed to say something.

"wait, wait..." you shrugged off his hand when he attempted to help you climb off the bed, glossy eyes staring up at him. "thank you. for everything you've put up with. i'm starting to— to see things differently. with us, si."

years and years of tight friendship. could it even be labeled that anymore?

shifted awkwardly for a few moments, unable to keep eye contact when you were so vulnerable. he wasn't in a place or state to unpack his complex feelings for you. "c'mon, love. lean on me." he motioned, allowing you to stumble against him as he led you out.

even though you didn't get a clear answer, there were a hundred things he wanted to say.

୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ ❀ *ੈ ✩ ‧₊˚

SOAP

he was with you when it happened. a night of hanging out in front of a movie and enjoying takeout. you stepped out to take out the trash and ended up slipping on the ice and landing all your weight on your arm.

you phoned soap, who was still inside your place — completely oblivious to your injury.

already, it wasn't a good ending to an almost seamless night. you were enjoying his company, still stifling feelings like you had been for so long.

and now, sitting in the hospital bed. a scowl on your face while brandishing a new cast. "do ye want me to sign it?" soap asked, half-joking and half-not. you shook your head, getting chills as he placed a gentle rub on your shoulder.

you dizzily sat up on the exam table, handing him your belongings so he could carry them. "i ruined tonight, didn't i?" you asked, despite having no cause for the question.

soap scoffed and chuckled, knowing it was most likely the heavy sedatives talking. "oh, don't be like tha'. it's not a night out without some broken bones." well, he wasn't wrong. nights with him often ended in accidental bruises.

softly, he let your head rest on his shoulder as he walked you past the waiting area, and out to the veranda, where his car was already waiting.

"johnny..." you muttered against his chest, your words garbled from the medications. "i love you."

shaking his head, he opened the passenger door and helped you inside. hovering over you as he buckled you in, you smelled his cologne — the scent you'd learned to crave. "aye, i'm irresistible. but you're off your face."

he brushed it off with humor, but his expression didn't lie. the feeling in his chest didn't lie.

୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ ❀ *ੈ ✩ ‧₊˚

GAZ

determined to stay in the room with you while they put the cast on, in case you wanted to hold his hand. even though you wouldn't feel any of it, seeing you in agony on the drive there was enough.

when the nurses finished, leaving you with an inconvenient sling and cast, he did his best to lend you support. "i broke my wrist once, during gymnastics. think you can top that?" gaz spoke to distract you, probably fluffing the details of the embarrassing juvenile memory.

your senses were foggy and sluggish, but you were lucid enough to speak. and the sedatives gave you an inkling of confidence to confess, which you otherwise wouldn't have.

your uninjured hand clutched his, playing with his fingers and giving them a gentle squeeze, "i think we should be more than friends. i mean... you're always with me, i'm always with you. it just... makes more sense." you murmured nonchalantly, as if not dropping a major bomb.

his natural reaction was to shake his head and smile, despite a flood of nerves arising at the confession. whether he felt the same or not—and he did—he couldn't admit it like this.

with you, halfway lucid and in a sterile environment. it wasn't right.

gaz did his best to change the subject, sure to try not to bring this up tomorrow, "how about we get out of here first? let me set you up at home and then... we'll go from there."

୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ ❀ *ੈ ✩ ‧₊˚