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#mysterious headcanons

jetpack · 1 year

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It’s “its”, not “it’s”. My junior copywriter minion has been... dealt with. Read more on my blog.

#previous copywriter #mysterious #fanfiction #fanfics #don’t mess with me #headcanon #jetpack #click the button

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spacebubblehomebase · 11 days

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Out of context reimagined parts from my new #HHStargazersAU!

⚠️ TW: Nerdy word vomit about my coloring choices ahead:

My take on human Chaggie & Radioapple's color scheme! Yes. I headcanon the Magnes as beautiful blondes with just as beautiful brown eyes. Because there's no WAY warm red & yellows translate to cool baby blues! If anything, Vaggie's eyes would be the lighter shade. (At least in my AU.) Because her canon eyes are white and I think the dark skin contrast nicely with blue. As for Alastor's green... Look. Give me a chance! I swear I can later explain it through lore!

As for their clothes, I just chose hell's red for Charline, heavenly hues for Vaggie, earthy colors for Alastor to balance the green (with some white rather than black to show his employment under the Magnes), and pastels for Lucius (though out of everyone in my story, he may undergo the most palette switches. Just saying).

Spoiler for my recent comic update: As you can see, Vaggie & Alastor's human disguises aren't perfect. Thus some parts of their hair remain unchanged. Vaggie's ineffable white bangs and Alastor's brown-passing too-vibrant red hair (which mind you, was a difficult balance to achieve. Specially to match the greens-) still ever so distinct. People think they dyed it, but I assure you, it's all natural~! Along with their near supernatural ability to charm. Lol. -Bubbly💙

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pooks · 6 months

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*at the first Quidditch team practice 1988* Charlie, the Quidditch Captain: Alright, let's welcome our new Keeper, Oliver Wood! Oliver, a wee second year: HAPPY TO BE HERE! :D Charlie: and...my little brother Percy, who's here for some reason. Percy, also a wee second year: I'm here as moral support and I got the first aid kit ready, just in case. :) Cassidy, the star chaser and second-in-command: Okay, that's really adorable. Are they inseperable or something? Charlie: *sighs* They are a package deal, I couldn't get one of them seperate.

#hp headcanon #hogwarts mystery #charlie weasley #oliver wood #percy weasley #perciver #charlie x mc #cassidy mercury (mc)#jacob's sibling #charlie x jacob's sibling #perciver but kids version #they're babies #percy and oliver are a package deal #you get them both or you get none

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sboochi · 2 years

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TTS AU let's gooo

After Rapunzel’s hair grows back, new faces make their appearance in Corona. It’s up to the four (plus friends) to solve the mystery of the black rocks!

#starring the Sundrop the Viking who ends up having a bad time the princess on the run and Mystery Moon Boy #The Big Four #rise of the brave tangled dragons #RotBTD #tangled the series #Rapunzel #Hiccup #Jack Frost #Merida #my art #pssst you can ask me about headcanons if you're interested #NOT ME SNEAKING IN HIJACK HANDHOLDING #tts au

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thecluelessdoctor · 6 months

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so uh hi FNAF MOVIE community and FNaF community in general I have a sacrifice bc I watched the FNAf movie (loved it btw. Pacing wasn't the best but it was still good)

Anyway have me associating the man behind the slaughter with shaggy (sorry for the dogshit lighting)

Part 1 of 100000/j

Just a shitpost lmao. I won't make anything outta it (unless..?/hj)

Edit; alright if this post makes it up to 300 notes I:ll make this into a damn series/webcomic/whatever the fuck you kids call it these days

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drawnecromancy · 2 years

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Still on my Pokemon thoughts - I definitely think that, besides the fact that it's a video game and they needed to choose an appropriate number of moves for Pokemon to have, the "4-move" rule could be explained away in universe by the "Pokemon Trainer fights are a sport, with actual rules in place to make things as fair as possible considering we're dealing with magically overpowered creatures".

So, like, in the wild, Pokemon *might* know more than four moves. Hell, I think the gods legendaries probably have a lot more abilities than just The Four Moves they have in-game - the fact that they only use 4 before you catch them is only incidental to the fact that you're playing a video game, in real life they'd probably throw a bigger more destructive fuss - and I do wholeheartedly imagine a 10 to 14 year old protagonist just, sitting down with a legendary after catching them, explaining the rules of Pokemon Trainer Fights and if they want to join in on the fun, and also that they can only use Four Moves in actual Pokemon Trainer Fights.

Imagine being the 13 year old with the balls to tell, idk, Kyogre, a god who could flood the entire planet, that since Kyogre is caught now they're going to be besties and also can it please choose four moves to battle with ? Just the four. And as it gets stronger they can forget one to use a better move. And like. This is just hilarious to me okay, a very serious young teen explaining their hobby to a very powerful ancient being, and said being going 'this sounds like fun, sure'.

#pokemon #i might be spending a weird amount of time thinking about pokemon as of late considering how little i play the games anymore #something something this doesn't take into account pkmn ranger or pkmn mystery dungeon games #because i uh never player ranger #and i only played the beginning of explorers of the sky - as well as most of that G5 one with portals and 3D #my headcanons don't need to be canon compliant anyway #canon is a playground at best

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lotusxpop · 4 months

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New sandman hc:

Hob plays DnD because it reminds him of the medieval times so he has a campaign with some of his students and they play every thursday.

One day Morpheus comes to visit Hob when he is on his way to their DnD session for the evening. He decides to sit in on the session and he loves how they create these stories out of a game.

Somehow next campaign Morpheus is the dungeon master and the group of students can't be more enthuastic about it while Hob looks at Dream chuckling and fond because the Prince of stories is their DM.

#dream has lucienne put the dnd sessions in his calendar #he always ask Hob afterwards if he liked the storyline he came up with #hob always tells him he loves it #the students totally thinks dream is hob's bf who joined them to see hob more #it's cute af #and maybe there is a rumor at the uni about their mysterious dm #the sandman #morpheus #dream of the endless #hob gadling #dreamling #sandman headcanons #sandman hc

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doks-aux · 8 months

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William refusing to definitively gender his own fursona because maybe he just doesn't have the vocabulary to express a nonbinary identity but also definitely to leave room for customers to assume the Spring Bonnie character is Fredbear's love interest.

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0th3rw0rldl1n3ss · 1 year

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So I have a dormant scooby doo hyperfixation (that comes back now and then) and since the new Velma show is trending rn I feel the urge to tell everyone that in the Mystery Incorporated series Fred is canonically autistic with a special interest in making traps and I never see anyone mention this. It was confirmed in a video that’ll be linked at the bottom of this post.

But yeah, aside from all the other problems with the new Velma show (disclaimer: I haven’t seen the show yet but have seen some previews and have heard things about it that have given me very low hopes for how the show will be) one of the biggest icks for me so far is making Fred into a shallow and arrogant asshole popular rich boy stereotype instead of going the Mystery Inc route and making him a classic himbo and autistic who’s obsessed with building traps.

Autistic Fred Jones is the best version of Fred Jones. I love that he displays autistic characteristics without being a lazy one dimensional stereotype of autism. In the show, from what I remember (I need to give it a rewatch), he has a clear special interest in building traps to the point that it defines his life and affects his relationships, he struggles a lot with interpersonal relationships, indirect communication and social signals (especially when it comes to being oblivious to Daphne’s romantic signals, and the issues this causes in their relationship). But he’s not one dimensional, in fact he has more emotional complexity in this series than in any other rendition of Scooby Doo, in my opinion, and even though he’s autistic he’s still a conventionally attractive man and a central character who is desired by one of the main, attractive female leads in the show, which I almost NEVER see.

This Reddit post goes a bit more into the specifics of his autistic traits, for anyone interested.

Here’s the video I mentioned:

youtube

This post is about Fred, but I also wanted to mention that I have a lot of love for the Mystery Inc creators deliberately writing Velma as a lesbian who was struggling with coming to terms with her sexuality throughout the show, and giving her a canonical sapphic love interest, in a time where having a queer character in the main cast of a kids show was unheard of.

Anyway, I recommend watching Mystery Inc if you don’t want to watch the new Velma show but still want to watch something that hits the Scooby Doo nostalgia spot. It still has the fun of classic Scooby Doo that speaks to my inner child but it’s also dark and complex enough to appeal to teen and adult audiences (as well as younger audiences) without over the top edginess.

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sophiethewitch1 · 4 months

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In Death's Embrace Pt. 2

Jason Todd x Death!Reader

Part one!

Jason shoots up in bed, his hand stretched out. He’s sweating, drenched in his own panic in fear. His hand falls into his lap, still twitching. He doesn’t remember what he was dreaming about, doesn’t remember what he was trying to grasp.

He knows he failed. He knows it slipped through his fingers like sand. He doesn’t think there’s anything more tragic in the world. He doesn't know why.

“Once again, you amaze me. Breaking the rules of the universe, not once, but twice.”

His hand is wrapped around his gun before you even finish the sentence. It’s pointed between your eyes once you do. To your credit, whoever just broke into his apartment without triggering any of his alarms, you don’t even flinch. No, you just fold your hands behind your back and give him an odd look.

You tilt your head, eyes moving over the scars on his face and catching on the lock of white hair he sports. Then, your face breaks into a smile, and something in Jason’s heart jumps. There’s a knowing in your eyes that he doesn’t like. An understanding.

You see through him, somehow. He doesn’t like it. He’ll shoot you for the offence.

“Who are you? How did you get in here?” Jason demands, assessing you like you assess him. You don’t look like a combatant, in long dark flowing fabrics. Still, he knows not to underestimate someone based on their appearance.

That damned clown never looked like a threat. And now he was standing here, with someone who seemed just as crazy in his bedroom. Only someone that crazy would break into his home.

“Are you going to shoot me?” your words are teasing, eyes fond. Maybe you’re crazier, then. You don’t believe he’ll do it. He will.

He should have already. It’s base curiosity that holds his trigger finger. That’s what he thinks it is, at least.

“I might,” he finally says, “Again, who the fuck are you?”

“It’s interesting talking to you like this. You knew who I was straight away last time, but this time you turn your weapon to me,” you continue, ignoring his threat. A muscle jumps in his cheek, annoyed at your presence, at your blatant disregard for him.

“Last time?”

Your smile turns into a bright grin. He’s momentarily stunned by it.

“So, you really haven’t won just yet. That gives me a small measure of pride,” you say, walking over to the window with your hands still behind your back, “Maybe enough to spare you from my anger.”

You look over at him again. Purse your lips.

“Maybe not.”

“I think you forget who is holding the gun,” Jason reminds you, clicking his teeth at the way you just shrug.

You go quiet. No more teasing words or ominous warnings. Jason should shoot, shoot now. He’d hate the cleanup, hate the mess, hate all the effort, but it was necessary. You were dangerous. That much was obvious.

Instead, he opens his big dumb mouth and asks, “What do you want?”

You sigh, shaking your head. “Is it terrible I don’t know? Rules are rules after all, but this situation is… complicated. You’re not another Sisyphus, you don’t even want to be here.”

“You broke into my home and started threatening me. That doesn’t sound complicated,” Jason insists. This is such a fucking weird conversation. And Sisyphus? Jason had done his homework, he knew about the mythical man who cheated death. He thinks he’s actually quite a lot like Sisyphus.

He still doesn’t appreciate the comparison.

“Yes well, I don’t want to be here either, de-” your voice cuts off, eyes widen in surprise, and then narrow on him like he caused some great offence. Inside him, he feels his dead little heart wither even further at the sight. Like you being upset with him was one of the worst mistakes of his life.

Once again, you broke into his house. All he’d done was tell you to get lost. Oh, and maybe threaten to shoot you, but who cares about that. He soothes the momentary panic, insisting you obviously hadn’t.

Which is dumb. He’s being an idiot. Jason Todd is being an absolute moron right now, and he just needs to shoot you.

Instead of paying attention to the gun trained on you, you stare out his window, at the streets of Gotham’s Hill district below. The sun is rising, rays bursting through the fog. The people are just getting up with it. It’s one of the few times the city is anything close to quiet. Most are still sleeping, and so is crime.

Warm sunlight catches on your cheek, and again, something inside Jason cries out at the sight. It’s worrying.

“I think I want you dead, again,” you confess.

Jason’s breath whooshes out of his lips, and his gun arm twitches for a second. Well, fuck him, that’s certainly a statement. And again, why hadn’t he shot you?

He still doesn’t do it. He must be crazy, too.

“I’m being greedy. I always have been, of course. It’s what I am… But especially this time, I think I’m being too greedy,” you sound sad, your fingers trailing across the wooden window frame, “I think I shouldn’t be here, but it’s the ones like you who make it hard.”

You rub dust against your fingers, and Jason feels embarrassed for the state of his home. He realises a second later what a stupid thought that is, you broke in. He wonders how many times he’ll have to repeat it to remember it. He feels uncomfortable and off-kilter, and he knows it’s because of you.

He needs to get you out.

“I’ve always hated the special ones, you know. The smart ones. You’re too good at pulling me, manipulating me, tugging on my strings like a puppet. You make me human,” you turn back to him, crossing your arms and resting against the sill. You’re comfortable in his home, more so than he usually is. Calm, relaxed, like the world is at peace, and worries are something of the past.

He wonders what that must be like. Fucking delightful, he bets.

“Are you not human?”

You raise an eyebrow in response.

Shit. Ah, fuck it. His finger tightens, and the recoil jerks his arm. The silencer keeps the early apartment quiet. Quiet, if not for the sound of the bullet clattering to the ground.

You both glance down at the crumpled piece of metal sitting pathetically on the floor. You lean over, pick the piece up, and then lift it to your eye, watching that same sunlight reflecting the early morning in the steel. A small rainbow flitters across your skin. You close your fist, and you stroll over to Jason.

It takes him a moment to remember to be wary of you, and by that time, you already have his hand cradled between yours.

You place the remnants of the bullet in his scarred palm.

“I expect an apology for that later,” your voice is soft, sweet. Loving, even after he shot you in the chest. Not like it did anything. Your fingers curl around his, tracing every crack and crevice. You do it with concentration, with precision, like you were made just to touch him, to comfort him.

A memory, gone in a flash. He feels it’s loss like a toothache.

He swallows, “I’m sorry.”

You laugh, and the sun’s not outside, it’s in his bedroom and it’s smiling and it’s everything and it’s here in his grasp and he knows it’ll be okay again. It has to be okay again. You said it’d be okay, didn’t you? He can’t remember. His head’s swirling, spinning, falling right into you. Right back into you.

“Or now, that’s fine too,” you sound delighted. He’s glad.

You let go of him, and move back to the window, drawn by the view outside. Jason's hand clasp and unclasp. The street obviously fascinates you, your eyes flicking back and forth and tracking the movement of every soul outside. He wants your gaze back on him.

Jason clears his throat. You glance back at him, then pointedly, his right hand.

He can feel his face flush, embarrassingly. He’s still holding the gun. He turns the safety off and tucks it back under his pillow.

He clears his throat again. He wants something from you, expects it, really. But he can’t tell what it is. He thinks you know, though. That you’re withholding it, for some reason. He’s irrationally irritated at that. You said you were greedy, but nothing could compare to his greed.

Even if you wanted him dead. He was starting to put together the pieces, but he couldn’t seem to feel alarmed. No, it simply wasn’t necessary, with you here.

Still, it’s not quite enough. He wants more. He wants to know more. So he waits for you to speak again.

“I’ve thought about doing this so many times over the years. It would’ve been selfish, and more than that, outside of my duty. You’re not one of mine anymore. For a little while, at least.”

He wants to be. He wants to be yours. He wants it more than he can breathe. If he’s yours, maybe you can be his.

You glance to the side, thinking out loud, “But then you went and started remembering. I’ve worked very hard to make sure that’s impossible, you know. That the memories from my realm stay there.”

You turn a disapproving glance his way.

“Of course, far be it for me to get in the way of a Wayne and his decision to break the world. You lot do that far too much, give me too much work,” you mutter that last part, hand moving to your brow. Like you’re massaging away a headache. He should be doing that for you.

“But you did it. And you’re here. And now I am, too. And I have to go soon.”

You drift closer to him, and Jason’s breath catches. He’s still. He doesn’t make a single movement, scared he’ll scare you away. He realises that’s stupid. That you caught a bullet to the chest. That you’re stronger than anything he could imagine.

He still thinks he could startle you if he’s not careful. That you’re like the mist outside, incorporeal. But Jason can do anything if he puts his mind to it. He knows how to catch the wind, how to gather steam on the underside of glass, how to cup sand and water and feathers and everything that would ever want to be outside of his reach.

You’re out of his reach. He has to let you step into it.

You stop a foot away from him. He grinds his teeth, and again, you raise a brow at him. He doesn’t move, despite his muscles screaming at him too. You give him a nod and take another step closer. He still doesn’t move, and you give him a satisfied look.

“So, what should we do, Jason?”

“How do you know my name?”

“What? Did dying strip you of any brains?”

The banter is familiar. He doesn’t mean to ruin it.

“Do you have to leave?” again, a voice in his mind whispers. You look sad, again. Again, again, again. All of this is an again.

“Eventually. Sooner rather than later,” you sigh, “You can keep a secret, can’t you, Jason?”

“Not if you leave.”

It’s a bold move. You take a step back, and he winces. Back and forth, back and forth… Still, he doesn’t take the words back. He can’t, because it’s the truth, and now that you’re here, there’s no going back. He’ll do anything to keep you with him, and if you go too far for him to reach, he’ll follow you.

“I think that’s an unfair request,” you say, and he shakes his head.

“It’s fair. You don’t have to stay forever, just a while.” Now that, that is a lie. You seem to know it, too.

You look out the window again. Jason, after a moment's hesitation, moves over beside you. You don’t flee, your attention is on the people below. He opens the window for you, and you give him another smile. He collects them like the rare treasures they are. You lean out into the air, and he freaks, then realises you’d shrugged off a bullet. He stays close, vigilant, anyway.

“I’m curious, I have to admit. What’s this place like?” you ask, resting elbows on the wood. The streets are foggy, as they usually are in the morning. The Hill isn’t the nicest place, not the cleanest either, but you look at it like it’s heaven incarnate. He can see his neighbour down at the local grocer, the old woman who hoards cats seeing her grandson off to school, and one of his guys hanging out on the street, keeping the space safe.

Under his orders. The Hill wasn’t the nicest place, but he liked to keep it as nice as possible.

...Peaceful, he wanted the people here to have their peace. He was obsessed with it, really.

“It sucks.”

You laugh again, music to his ears, “Not the best advertising.”

“I take it back, it’s the best place on earth,” he replies, barely paying attention to his words. He’s seeing how close he can get to you. How many inches he can claim. His face is almost in your neck by the time you lean back, and he curses under his breath.

“It doesn’t need to be,” you say, pushing away from the sill and turning to wander around his room. You take in everything about the space. From the general mess, to the Jane Austen books crammed into his bookshelf, to the mask he’s left half-hazard on his bedstand.

You watch it all, just as fascinated with the world outside as the one inside. He wants to believe that means he’s special to you. And if it doesn’t, that just means he needs to work a little harder.

Finally, you turn to him. You take in every facet of him, once again. Your all-knowing gaze finds his hair again. You seem especially fascinated by that. You lift your hands, and he’s in them before he realises he’s moved.

You map his features with your hands, and he makes a little sound in the back of his throat. Ignoring that, you wipe the bags under his eyes. He feels his sanity slip away under your touch. You trace the scar on his chin, the one above his left brow. The stubble along his jaw. The bump in his nose. The edge of his lips. He wonders at the smirk you give when he groans. And finally, you come to that strand of hair.

You tug on it. A memory fizzles again, and to his frustration, he can’t quite grab it. Can’t quite take it, claim it. It’s not his, not yet.

You haven’t given him permission to remember. He wants it, he wants it, he needs it.

“I think I can stay, maybe. Just for a little, just a little. You want that, right?” your hands cup his face, and he knows, somehow, that you’ve done this a thousand times. And if this is the thousand-and-first time you’ve held him like this, he’s glad. To be back in your embrace is the sweetest pleasure. The greatest relief.

“Yes. Yes, yes… yes, I do,” he’s nodding, he’s begging, he’s pleading with you. Just for a moment more, just a second more. Just a little bit more, before you let him go again. He leans down and presses his forehead to you, sighing in your scent, the wheat reeds in the wind, the warm sun on skin.

He wonders what he has to do to make sure you never let go again. He wonders if you’ll let him do it.

You shake your head, giving him a rueful smile, “You really are too cute, darling.”

That nickname. The key to his heart, his mind. Every single barrier keeping him from you is gone, crumbled by your will. He is thankful you’ve given them back. He is thankful for every moment you ever had with him. And he’ll make a thousand more.

He presses his lips to yours, arms holding you close. When you melt into him, sigh into the kiss, he feels a euphoria he didn’t know could be true. He feels a relief he didn’t know even in his days under, even when you only held him.

He feels alive with it.

“Thank you for coming back,” he whispers against you, and he can feel that familiar, that damning smile spread.

“You left me. I had to hunt you down myself, Jason dear.”

Maybe he couldn’t have his peaceful death. But he had a loving one, and that was all he needed.

#jason todd upon remembering reader: ah so seppuku it is #jason todd loyal dog core ftw #also the dynamic here is too funny #you came with the intention of putting him in his place and got shot and decided ‘hes too sweet to leave alone. look how sad he is :(‘#jason todd huge W for once in his suffering life #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd imagine #jason todd headcanon #jason todd fanfiction #red hood x reader #red hood x you #read hood imagine #red hood headcanon #red hood fanfiction #part 3... perhaps?#or maybe a prologue #jason meeting his death for the first time and reader being all mysterious and kind

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i-never-forgot · 12 days

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Random Dusknoir headcanon that won’t leave me alone: his collar/ruff works like plumage for emoting (e.g. surprise, threat display, etc.)

I love that we PMD artists have seemingly unanimously agreed that Dusknoir’s “stomach mouth” is capable of expression since his “face” only has an eye, don’t get me wrong. I intend to continue utilizing this headcanon until the day I die.

However, the thought of his collar acting like plumage is just…hilarious to me. Ideas include:

Puffing up abruptly when he’s surprised or afraid, then smoothing it back down to look collected.

Laying flat when he’s really annoyed or trying to make himself look smaller/feeling vulnerable.

Flaring out to make himself look bigger as a threat display or when he’s really upset (angry, distraught, anxious, etc.)

Moving while he talks about something for which he’s passionate (flaring with emphases, reclining when he lowers his voice or listens to someone).

Quivering with nerves or excitement.

I’ve honestly been trying to sneak this headcanon into my art for a little while with mixed results. I want to make it more obvious in future projects. If any of you have anything you’d like to add, feel free!😊

#fisara’s scrawlings #pokemon #pokemon mystery dungeon #explorers of sky #dusknoir #headcanons

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