Oh Okay So I Have A Particular Headcanon About How Gear And Kuro Talks... Especially Over Text

oh okay so i have a particular headcanon about how Gear and Kuro talks... Especially over text

Now you would think Kuro would be lazy about texting. But nah. Perfect grammar. There's a phantom Gear breathing down he neck every time he texts, because he remembers those lessons where Gear was just shy of beating proper grammar into his skull

And then he receives his first text from Gear

LIBERAL use of shorthand and emojis. Gear LOVES emojis, and emoticons, and kaomoji, because they make it SO EASY for him to get his exact emotion across

Kuro is Bitter lmaooo

Danny hits batman with the anti-creep stick

So dannys 19 and is taking astro engineering at gothem university

To save money he lives in the cheepest apartment he can find, its not like it going to kill him again

Danny was ok with the attempted break ins, he was ok with the broken AC, he was ok with the spam callers

What he wasent ok with is the fucking parcor wannabes who decided his roof is the best spot to be in

He gave up his sleep during his teen years he was NOT willing to do the same in his twentys

So after a month of the same assholes on his roof he decided to do something

.

.

.

He wasent expecting a man in a purple suit that looks like Ronald McDonalds evil twin

Or a furrie with anger issues to be with him

Danny looked at them for a good minute before deciding he's seen weirder stuff in his fridge

He charged the fenton-anti-creep-stick and smacked the clown on the head

He dropped like a brick, the flowes in his hands dropping and giving a puff of some weird gass

He turned to the furrie and said

You two can flirt somewhere else just not here

He was polite, or tried to be at 2:37 in the morning, but the furrie said that he cant just intervein in a fight "itS DaNGErouS"

Danny looked him in the eyes said too bad furrie and bopped him with the anti-creep-stick

Danny was about to call the cops to come collect these two weirdos when he saw a tracking system on the furries arm, it showed that someone was going to come this way

.

.

.

Jason saw alot of things in his life

He came back from the dead, faught crime in pixie boots,became a crime boss, tried to kill a clown and his brother on multiple occasions

But even he was at a loss

The joker was knocked out and on the ground

But so was batman

Just as he was about to call for backup when adoptee-to-be stepped out of the shadown hilding a stick taller than him and giving him the most dead stare

Collect the furrie and Ronald McDonald and keep them off the roof they can flirt somewhere else, if they ruin my sleep ONE more time they'll have a lot more to worrie about than the anti-creep-stick

one of Kaito’s lines in pjsekai (below cut) gave me such a sweet mental image I couldn’t resist drawing it

[Slides the folder over]

Read my fanfic.

Anyways! I wrote a fic a few weeks ago with a prompt here on tumblr and even did some doodles to go along with it. I then posted it onto AO3 and, turns out, people really liked it! Wow! 

So I decided to render out those sketches into these lovely scenes! And yes I did use the webtoon’s style I was not about to go tumbling over how to draw the batboys in my own style. I don’t know how accurate any of this is but I did have fun. 

Lost and Found

(Though we now know that this is not how it happened, I find the idea of Kuro setting out to find his siblings and take them in when they first turned adorable and really wanted to write about it and after like two months I had whatever this is. It's inspired by this artwork from @klukvausual which is just amazing and incredible)

Old Child is found in the wake of a massacre.

The air is searingly hot and burns in Sleepy Ash’s lungs as he hastens past piles of dead bodies, their mangled limbs a stark white against the blackened ground. Pillars of smoke still rise from raging fires and block out what meek sunlight there might have once been, their stench almost enough to mask the scent of death in the air.

I should have known, Sleepy Ash thinks. I should have known, I should have known, he said he’d do it again, it’s all my fault…

But what victory could he ever seize against world-ending desire, against convictions so strong they raze cities to the ground and slaughter by the hundreds? All that’s left for him to do is to pick up the pieces left in another’s wake, to ease the pain forced upon him, too, all those years ago.

It is a child he finds among burning rubble and dead bodies, no older than five. A little boy with jet black hair who deserves better than this. Sleepy Ash bites back the bile rising in his throat, thinks of the village children instead and of how he used to play with them, and slows his steps the closer he gets, until he kneels right next to the boy and reaches out to ruffle through his hair.

The little one leans into his touch. He has big, blood red eyes that show no fear, and tiny fangs that barely peek out from behind his lips when he opens his mouth to ask, “what happened?”

“I don’t know,” Sleepy Ash tells him. He wonders whether he might ever know. The child nods in silence, and there’s a kind of understanding in his red gaze that Sleepy Ash has only ever seen in the old men and women that used to read him stories once upon a time.

“Who are you?”

I don’t know, he wants to say, again. But he doesn’t. The little one deserves a truth to hold onto in this world, and if there is none to give, he’ll make one for him.

“I’m Sleepy Ash,” He says. “Your big brother. Let’s get away from this place.”

~

Doubt Doubt is found beneath an old church’s broken windows.

Old Child is the one to first hear of his existence; rumors of a wild monster hiding in an abandoned church that filter back to him through the network he’s built for himself in no more than a few decades. He thrives in this new life that was forced upon him, mingles with royalty, has long made a name for himself among the myths and legends people talk about in hushed voices over a pint of beer or two. To be a vampire is to be noble, these days, to live in castles and dress in silks and drink from silver chalices.

Not much of that glamour remains as they stand before the crumbled ruins that night, and all pride Sleepy Ash ever felt over his younger brother’s triumphs has given way to a swirling pit of dread at the thought of another bearing their curse. Old Child squeezes his hand before he enters, and offers a wineskin he hid in his velvet robes.

“He’ll be hungry,” He says. Sleepy Ash decides not to ask questions about the meal he is handed.

The old door howls as he enters, broken glass snaps beneath his shoes and leaves and twigs break where he walks, blown in from through shattered windows and holes in the high ceiling. Thick beams of moonlight illuminate a dilapidated altar. The figure kneeling in front of it does not move. There is no wild monster in here, Sleepy Ash thinks, just a scared man.

“Who are you?” He mutters when Sleepy Ash comes to a halt. His voice is but a hoarse whisper, and if the night was not quite as silent, he would have barely been heard.

“I’m Sleepy Ash. Your big brother.”

“Brother…?”

The other turns his head, just barely so. His face is hidden underneath a curtain of black hair, but Sleepy Ash can see fear and distress and forces down the urge to wrap him in his arms as he once did with Old Child.

“That’s right,” He says instead, and kneels by his new brother’s side.

“I have died,” The man whispers. “Yet I am alive. I cannot die again, I have tried. What am I?”

“A vampire,” Sleepy Ash tells him, and as the other sucks in a sharp breath that sounds as though it is laced with tears, he reaches out despite himself, clutches a shaking shoulder.

“I’ve brought food. You better eat.”

Doubt Doubt throws up the first mouthful of blood he tastes, but he greedily goes for a second. When Sleepy Ash stands and leaves, he follows and their family becomes one of three.

~

The Mother is found on a battlefield drenched in rain.

Sleepy Ash spends his days following trails of blood wherever he comes across them, and as he walks among broken bodies and weapons that day and finds a lone woman alive among the dead, he believes her a mere survivor at first, a lucky one. But her eyes are red and crimson drips from sharp fangs in her mouth and his heart grows heavy in his chest.

He sheds his cloak as he draws closer. She does not move though she must hear his steps, and looks up only when he drapes the warm cloth over her. It’s hard to read her face, and Sleepy Ash finds himself sad that he can’t. There’s no more than three people in the world who may understand her pain, and yet he still fails.

“Where are my men?” She asks. Her voice is quiet still, barely heard over the rain still pattering against the ground and cold bodies, but if he strains his ears he hears a hint of what it might have once sounded like, firm and warm, a voice to give advice and commands gladly followed.

Splattered all around us, he wants to say.

“I don’t think they made it. I’m so sorry,” He says instead. He finds himself growing cynical these days. He always has to be careful not to hurt his siblings. They don’t deserve this - they don’t deserve any of this.

“I’m your older brother,” He tells her. “My name is Sleepy Ash. Let’s get somewhere dry and meet with the rest of the family, and we’ll tell you everything we know, okay?”

Her expression does not change. She gets up, wipes bloodied mud off her skin, and looks around. Her brows knit together. The corners of her mouth dig deep into her unmarred skin in an unmistakable frown.

“Are you angry?” He dares ask.

“No,” She answers, and he thinks that her voice might be shaking. “I grieve.”

~

Lawless is found in a forest’s gentle, green shade.

He is not easy to coax out of whatever hole he hid in before Sleepy Ash came along, and as he travels the forest’s narrow, winding paths, the hood he has taken a liking to hiding beneath cast aside to show off red eyes and fangs and how very not-human he is, there comes a point at which he thinks that maybe he can breath easily, that there is no one here after all.

But he turns around to a young man half hidden behind a tree, his eyes just as red, his fangs just as sharp, and he tries to smile but finds there is nothing to smile about.

“Are you like me?” His new brother whispers.

“I am,” Sleepy Ash tells him. “My name is Sleepy Ash.”

He extends a hand, but the other flinches back, fingers digging deep into the bark of the tree he is still hiding behind.

How troublesome, Sleepy Ash finds himself thinking. None of his siblings have ever been scared like this and the truth is, he doesn’t know what to do.

But if there is one person he’ll try for - it’s them.

“Did someone hurt you?” He asks, and watches the other freeze. There’s no way to know whether he is truthful when he shakes his head, of course. Their wounds heal quickly, at least the physical ones.

“Good,” He says. “Because if someone did, I’d make sure they’d regret it.”

“Why?” The other asks, though his grip on the tree loosens and he comes forward, centimetre by centimetre, maybe without even realizing.

“I’m your big brother,” Sleepy Ash tells him. “And I will protect you.”

~

World End is found in a cave far away from a single living soul.

It takes Sleepy Ash nearly a week to find, and he regrets not taking along one of his siblings. Their family has grown loud and troublesome now, but despite how quickly he finds himself tired around them in recent years, Sleepy Ash cherishes their presence.

(He wonders, sometimes, whether it’s wrong to feel like this when every single one of them is a walking, talking tragedy. But the thought is grating to dwell on, so he doesn’t.)

He is relieved to find he doesn’t have to search the cave for long. Cold, damp air greets him as he steps inside, heavy with the unmistakable scent of a recently extinguished fire. As he ventures on he treads heavily, announcing his presence so he doesn’t scare whoever he finds.

His efforts are in vain. The man he finds at the far end of the cave looks at him with despair, with fear that Kuro does not feel is for him.

“Why did you come?” He whispers.

Not a second later he has tackled Sleepy Ash to the ground. He groans; the stone floor is harsh and jagged against his back; but his hand shoots out just in time to catch the other by his throat, to tear his fangs away from his neck.

“What a pain,” He mumbles.

Still, he’s careful as he pushes his little brother away, and he barely tumbles as he gets up again, his teeth bared but still so scared.

“Please,” He says, “I’m so hungry. I don’t want to hurt anyone. You have to leave, please.”

“I know,” Sleepy Ash tells him. He stands his ground. I’m not going anywhere.

“My name is Sleepy Ash. I’m your oldest brother and I’ll teach you how to control it.”

~

All of Love is found deep within the darkest alleys of a nameless city.

It is Doubt Doubt who alerts Sleepy Ash to another member of their broken little family and sends him off into the maze of nightly streets their youngest brother hides in with quiet worry in his eyes. He is not hard to find. All Sleepy Ash has to do is follow the stench of blood in the air.

His little brother is leaned against a dirty wall when Sleepy Ash spots him, a hand clenched against where his stomach might be, as though he’s about to be sick. Flecks of red are splattered along the hems of his pants like rubies woven into the worn fabric; pool at his feet and glitter in the blaze of Sleepy Ash’s lantern.

He jumps when he first hears his name called. He might have attacked had Sleepy Ash not raised his light to illuminate his own face, his red eyes and sharp fangs. As his younger brother’s gaze meets his own, all fight drains from him as though he knows he could never win.

“Are you here to hurt me?” He breathes, and Sleepy Ash shakes his head.

“I’m your oldest brother,” He says. “My name is Sleepy Ash.”

The other doesn’t question this, instead he averts his gaze, lets it sink upon the pale bodies lying dead on blood-soaked cobblestone, like he is a child about to be scolded for a mess he made.

“I didn’t want this,” He whispers. “I don’t know what happened. I told them not to touch me. But they didn’t listen. They never listen.”

Tears drench his words, threatening to spill from his eyes, and Sleepy Ash sighs. He thought that maybe, by now, he got used to it. But he might never.

“It’s okay,” He says. “It’s not your fault. Come here.”

He offers his hand.

The other hesitates for all but a second, but then he reaches for him like it is the first time someone extended a hand towards him, allows his lantern’s light to wash over him as he steps forwards. Even with blood dripping from his lips, he is beautiful, and Sleepy Ash shudders to think what beauty might mean to him.

“We should leave this place,” He mutters, turning away from blood and gore to where the air is fresh and the darkness safe, and his youngest brother follows as he is gently tugged along. “Let’s introduce you to the family.”

Thinking about how my mom tried to “seduce” my dad when they were in college together by sneaking oranges into his backpack, because she grew up food insecure and feeding someone/sharing food was a big deal with her upbringing with a lot of emotional meaning–

and meanwhile my poor dad is just convinced that he’s been haunted by some citrus poltergeist because why the fuck are there always oranges in his bag he swears he did not put there???