#canon compliant headcanons

[intp-vs-magi]

Some canon-compliant slice of life headcanons for the Eight Generals/Sindria

Yamlikha and Masrur dated once, seemingly to spite Sharrkan specifically. It lasted about a week before Ja'far told them to stop because it was "disrupting the peace" (Sharrkan wouldn't stop crying to him about it)

Not many people from Sasan moved to Sindria due to cultural and religious customs. So Spartos struggles to find company outside of his overbearing colleagues. He did remain friends with the squad of enbies Sharrkan and Pisti introduced him to.

Sinbad used to wander the streets of Sindria in disguise. Keeping tabs on the general vibe among the citizenry. Sometimes joining the fishermen if he was feeling nostalgic. Until he got too busy for that and resorted to eavesdropping with Zepar's power.

The recipes Ja'far teaches to the palace cooks are the ones Rurumu taught him. It's his way of keeping her memory alive at the heart of Sindria. It’s appreciated by those in the palace that were around when she was.

Sinbad enjoys sparring with the military Generals on occasion and uses it to blow off steam. Or at least he does with Hinahoho, Sharrkan, Spartos and Masrur. Drakon refuses to spar with him or anyone else. Sinbad seems to intuitively understand his reason, but everyone else finds it disappointing.

Pisti taught Aziza to fake cry in order to better garner Sharrkan's sympathy.

Yamlikha installed magical locks on her office door to keep people (Pisti and Sharrkan) from barging in and asking her to heal their random scrapes and bruises when SHE IS NOT A HEALER and there is an ENTIRE MEDICAL WING FOR THAT.

Drakon hoards due to his dragon instincts, but doesn't realize that he's doing it. This usually manifests as him bringing home some shiny nicknack he saw in a shop and immediately forgetting about it. Sahel resells most of it when things start getting crowded. She never mentions it to him because she finds it charming and knows he'd be embarrassed if someone pointed it out. At least they’re stimulating the economy.

Pisti's roc lives in a roost carved into the wall of the canyon that runs behind the palace. It’s name is probably something like Charlene or Margery. She takes it home every year to see it’s mate.

It is widely known that the seeds of the papagoreya fruit must be removed before export or they will leech poison during shipping. In reality this myth is perpetuated by farmers and sindrian merchants in order to keep a monopoly on the fruit. Foreign visitors often brag about getting to taste the fresh fruit “before the seeds are removed.” This conspiracy was Ja'far's idea of course.

Spartos returns home every year to partake in the Pilgrimage Feast. The dedicated party animals among the generals were furious to learn the nature of this holiday. It’s the one day of the year he allows himself to partake in drugs and tomfoolery and he goes and does it without them!

#magi #sinbad #spartos #sharrkan #yamlikha #yamraiha #ja'far #masrur #drakon #pisti #damn I really don't have any headcanons about hinahoho?? #eight generals #sahel #aziza #headcanons #canon compliant headcanons #pardon my bad grammar lol #first one isn't meant to be anti-any ship btw #just something i can see happening

[drawnecromancy]

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

[rileyclaw]

waking willow - the owl house human realm fan animatic

tumblr didnt want me to put the file on here so i had to link it . crime

#once again my trend of impulsively creating whole animatics with narrative over the span of 3 days continues! #the owl house #animatic #toh #fanart #my art #toh season 3 #video #willow park #hunter toh #luz noceda #gus porter #amity blight #camila noceda #vee noceda #canon compliant slice of life my BELOVED . #thank you to thanks to them for giving me the lore about how willow sleeps like a goddamn creature #so i can expand on it and make this headcanon.

[thegnat]

i firmly believe that will is one of the greatest healers of all time - to the point that like asclepius, he too could have the power of resurrection if he pushed himself hard enough (or was desperate enough)

which leads to some interesting questions. how would zeus react to another of apollo’s sons being able to do this? would he kill will too? or maybe they try hide will’s ability from zeus? is that even possible?

how would hades react to will bringing someone from his realm back to life?

how would hades react if that person was nico?

#sorry if people have talked about this already #but this is like a half formed thought that’s been on my mind for a few days #i would totally write this if i wasn’t set on only writing canon compliant filling in gaps stuff #but maybe i will eventually #or maybe someone else will idk #will solace #nico di angelo #will solace headcanon #solangelo #solangelo headcanon #pjo #percy jackson #heroes of olympus #trials of apollo #gnat is an idiot

[sixeyescurseuser]

Imagining the night Geto declared war, where Gojo went to visit him.

He’s barely keeping things together because he knows there are only two endings to this: Geto succeeds and eradicates all non-sorcerers, or he fails and Gojo will have to kill him.

The second one basically inevitable.

Geto, who was expecting Gojo’s visit, immediately pulls Gojo into his arms.

“Come on, love, let’s go to the bed,” Geto whispers.

They don’t say anything else. Geto lays Gojo’s head on his chest and softly strokes his hair.

Gojo presses his ear closer to hear Geto’s steady heartbeat.

I hate you, Gojo wanted to say that night, as Geto lovingly caressed his skin and talked as if their time together wasn’t coming to an end.

“I love you,” is what he chooses to say as Geto takes his dying breaths.

How cruel of Suguru, who has left him behind once again.

#jjk #satosugu #geto suguru #gojo satoru #jjk headcanon #satosugu headcanon #canon compliant #angst

[imekitty]

I'm kind of the odd one out in the Danny Phantom fandom because I don't hate canon, and in fact, I very much try to be a canon-compliant writer as much as possible. However, there are a few canon things that I ignore in my fics, so I figured I'd share what they are! :)

The Christmas Truce

In my headcanon, ghosts cannot go against their ghostly obsessions for any reason, even if it's Christmas. Therefore, the Christmas truce from The Fright Before Christmas does not exist in any of my fics.

Valerie's Ninth-Degree Black Belt

Danny says that Valerie has a ninth-degree black belt in Flirting With Disaster. Though he does not say which martial art she has the belt in, it apparently takes an average of thirty to forty years to get a ninth-degree black belt in anything. I let it slide for Maddie because she's old enough that maaaaaaybe it's possible, but while Valerie probably does have a black belt, I doubt she was able to get a ninth-degree black belt at her age. I headcanon Danny just said it was a ninth-degree black belt because he got confused with what his mom has.

Danny Struggling in PE

I very much enjoy Micro Management but I don't get how they expect us to believe that Danny is this out of shape when he's been fighting ghosts at least several times a week for months at this point. So in my fics, he excels in PE and any poor grades are due to tardies or absences, not because he can't meet the fitness requirements.

Paulina’s Mom

We see Paulina's mom just once in Pirate Radio, but I prefer to say that's a woman her dad is currently dating but not her mother, especially since we do not see this woman at Paulina's quinceañera in Memory Blank. This woman also looks nothing like Paulina and I like to headcanon that Paulina and her mother look similar.

If I think of more, I'll add them! But I really do always try my best to flesh out and expand on canon in my fics rather than just ignoring what I don't like. I enjoy the challenge!

#danny phantom #headcanons #I didn't include anything from season three because I just hate that whole season lol #although I do still try to keep compliant with canon even in the third season as much as possible #Phantom Planet is also too obvious #I don't think I need to mention that #right?

[raayllum]

happy pride month featuring. demisexual rayla and mayhaps some aro spec vibes too

Rayla has never really felt the stirrings, before, as other elves call it.

 Her training ramps up when she’s twelve, but the other kids her age are starting to be consumed by crushes, blushing and making fools of themselves unnecessarily. It’s hard to understand, and even more annoying to watch. Can’t they just focus on what needs to be done? They’re the future warriors, defenders and protectors, of their village. They don’t have time for silliness, never mind the time consuming foolishness that comes with often short lived romantic (or even sexual) entanglements she sees the older assassins in training partake in. 

She supposes she’s just much more mature than they are. It’s the only explanation. 

Then she meets Callum. 

It’s not that they suddenly start, exactly — but for the first time, it feels like there’s potential for them to. How else is she supposed to explain this want to always be close to him, unable to resist from placing her hands on his shoulders, getting all up in his face as she teases him with her human impression? This maddening need to see him smile, to lift his spirits on the rare occasion he’s the downtrodden one (a situation that becomes less and less rare once he learns the truth about his father)? The racing of her heart and incessant thoughts in her mind that she can’t lose him, her fingers hesitantly touching his cheek, because she’s felt so many things since she ran away with two human princes and a dragon egg, but this — this is something else. 

His hand in hers makes sparks buzz in her chest, their interlaced fingers before the blind Sol Regem wholly for their own benefit. Her heart feels like it’s about to burst out of her chest with fondness and affection when she catches him blushing, when she catches him staring at her the way she imagines she’s been staring at him for quite a while now.

Once the embarrassment of the Oasis has faded, Rayla curls into his arms that cool night on the back of the ambler, and lets herself chase that warmth, a blanket draped over their laps and his lips firm against hers.

They explore a little more at the Nexus and the castle—kissing in dark alcoves and pressed against walls, pulling him close by his scarf, exploring more confidently the further they go, as far as his shirt being off one unbearably hot summer night, anyway.

Then she leaves, and is achingly cold. 

It’s not as though there are no offers while she’s away. The pubs and inns she frequents as she crosses through Xadia, when she can afford to and when camping isn’t an option, are home to many travellers looking for a good time. When she breaks her leg falling from a stupid tree, the clerk at the apocathery is very sweet, and asks if she’d stay a little longer once she’s healed up. His eyes are so green it’s almost tempting, but Rayla knows what she knows, and especially knows her heart.

There’s no one else. There never will be.

The jitters grow worse the closer she gets to Katolis when she finally turns around, Stella doing her best to soothe her nerves to little avail. 

She misses his birthday by one night and spends most of the next day crying, pacing outside the city walls till it’s almost nightfall. What will he say? What will he do? How has he changed, and what if he hasn’t? What if he still...

She climbs through his window, catching sight of the back of him first—broader, taller, with shorter, spikier hair swooped to one side—and then he turns around, gasping.

Still her Callum.

Boom. Stirrings. 

She spends most of the night admiring him once he’s relaxed enough to fall asleep, basking in the fact she’s by his side again, that she can do this—that he didn’t leave.

She thinks of the time one of the other Moonshadow kids had made a face when she didn’t have a crush on anyone, calling her strange.

Runaan had taken her aside and explained that sometimes, falling in love works differently for people, if they fall in love at all. That it was the same for him with Ethari. “Sometimes you fall in love only once,” he’d said.

She watches the way the sun catches Callum’s hair, illuminating a face that’s only grown more handsome since she left. In spite of everything, or perhaps precisely because of everything, she smiles.

This is it.

#aspec rayllum #headcanons #rayllum #happy pride 🌈 #ace tag #asexuality #tdp #my fic #fic #ficlet #tdp rayla #pining!rayla #arc 1 #arc 2 #canon compliant #the dragon prince

[groovinrightalong]

Alright, as promised, here are some ✨married Byler/Byler dads headcanons✨

A little preface that this is specifically for my transmasc Mike headcanons, so it’s not necessarily canon compliant, it’s pretty much just MY older byler AU so if it’s not your cup of tea you can just scroll along. Brief mentions of being a seahorse dad and a heads up right now that transphobia will get you an IMMEDIATE block:)

Now that that’s over with!

-Mike and Will get married at some point in the early 90s. Mike doesn’t get his birth certificate changed until some point in the 2000s, so legally he’s considered female, and you better believe they take advantage of it. He’s like at least three or four years on hormones by the time they get married but they’re just like :D yes we’re a straight couple I love my wife :D

-Bonus points if Will wears a dress for the wedding

-They get a dog pretty much as soon as they move in together. Will loves dogs (Mike’s more of a cat person but he adores the way Will’s face lights up when he sees them) and she’s probably a birthday present from Mike to Will. They like to joke that she’s their child, they bring her along to family picnics and events. Joyce and Jonathan are obsessed with her, she reminds them of Chester.

-Mike grows up to be an author! He makes a decent living between selling his books and a gig working at the local library, and Will does some graphic design. He doesn’t particularly like how regimented it is, he prefers doing art for the love of it, and he gets his chance when they’re early to mid 40s because Mike’s books start to get really popular and they can live off that income. Will then pretty much just does the art for the covers and works as a freelance artist. Gloats about being a trophy husband.

-They spend the first decade of their marriage just being the cool uncles for Jancy’s kid, always stopping in for surprise visits because they all moved to a bigger city within a decent distance from each other. Mike likes to buy the kid gifts he knows will piss off his sister, like water guns and play dough that’ll get stuck everywhere. He’ll sneak them candy, pick them up from daycare to take them out for the day. He’s a nuisance.

-Will aids in the schemes, but obviously he’s Jonathan’s baby brother so he’s the good one and Mike is the bad influence😇 And then the kid learns their first curse word from him when he accidentally slips up in front of them and he never hears the end of it.

-He’s really soft and happy with them though, and Mike obviously notices. Mike’s sort of iffy on if he wants any kids but he can tell Will does even if he won’t say anything.

-They adopt their son in like early 2002/2003. His bio mom was really young. They keep in contact with her, send her pictures and updates. His name’s Sam! (Short for Samwise. Because they’re fucking nerds.)

-They end up with two kids. Their daughter’s only six or seven months younger than Sam because hey y’all testosterone is NOT birth control. She pretty much looks like a mini Joyce, her name’s Gwen. (Gwendolyn. Like I said, NERDS.)

-Their kids kind of have a similar dynamic to Will and El because they’re so close in age, they’re always in the same grades, etc. People jokingly call them the twins.

-Nancy takes her revenge by doing pretty much the same thing Mike did with her kid with the twins. She’ll sneak them treats, get them sugared up when they’re at her house then send them home. Sam thinks she’s the coolest person EVER (much to Mike’s horror)

-Gwen’s nonverbal. As a toddler, Sam talked for her pretty much all the time. She never said her first word, was really quiet and reserved, and it worried them obviously. But then they were like, oh wait, let’s try sign language (Mike has times where he’s pretty much totally nonverbal too so they already know a decent amount) and as soon as she figures it out she’s talking to them all the time. She’s super high energy and between her and her brother, they get into a LOT of trouble (Mike’s first gray hair comes in when he’s like 34😭)

-She also has a bit of a sixth sense! It’s mostly to do with the supernatural (which isn’t really an issue since the gates are all closed now… right?) but sometimes she’d react to something right before it happened and it would freak her parents out. Will has it too, but he’s so used to it now that he doesn’t really notice it? And Mike’s just like oh well that’s just how he is it’s not weird. It’s a… lot freakier when it’s a toddler.

-(Bonus!! Jonathan, Nancy, Mike, Will, and the kids all have the last name Hopper. Hop adopted Jonathan and Will and they changed their names to match him and their mom and El because FUCK Lonnie.)

I have lots more thoughts but this is going on really long and just🫠 Yeah. Byler dads.

#stranger things #mike wheeler #will byers #byler #byler headcanon #trans mike wheeler #transmasc mike wheeler #autistic mike wheeler #byler dads #byler uncles #married byler #older byler #byler kids #my headcanons #jancy #jonathan byers #nancy wheeler #this is all canon compliant with my Juno fic btw

[lokiusly]

When Mobius didn’t go to the bar, he’d stay home, streaming movies all night. This week, he felt inclined to explore the rom-coms.

As he watched on: the witty banter, the loving looks, the subtle caresses, it dawned on him…

Mobius needed popcorn. And M&Ms.

He mixed the two together and ate the combination while he watched on.

Elsewhere, Loki watched his reactions to the movie’s jokes. Every time Mobius grinned ear to ear, every thoughtful head-tilt, every hearty laugh.

The ending approached. The characters hadn’t seen each other in so long. It was pouring rain and yet the lead characters were in a trance. They confessed their love and embraced.

Mobius paused the film and sat up on his couch. Loki too sat up on his throne. It had dawned on Mobius.

“Am I… Am I in love?” Mobius chuckled. “I’m in love with Loki.” he whispered but the god of stories heard him loud and clear.

It took everything in Loki to not let go of the branches.

Loki and Mobius, though far from each other, smiled widely, & just as quickly, their smiles faded & their frowns formed.

Outside, the rain began to pour.

#please notice the parallels of the pouring rain thank you! #I was gonna make this a shit post but nope! once again canon compliant angst!!!!!! #lokius #mobius #loki season 2 #loki show #loki x mobius #loki spoilers #mobius m mobius #mcu loki #loki laufeyson #loki #loki and mobius #lokiedit #loki marvel #mobius mcu #lokius au #lokius imagine #lokius meta #lokius headcanons #lokius fanfic #lokius fic #lokius fanart #lokius nation #agent mobius #mobius and loki #loki series #owen wilson #tom hiddleston #marvel

[seleneprince]

Unpopular opinion:

Remus Lupin was as capable of cruelty and arrogance as the rest of the Marauders. There are plenty of hints of this in canon. The only reason we don't see this side of him as often is because of his heavy reluctante to be considered a "bad guy".

And he low-key enjoyed going against Snape just as much, he just had some conscience aftewards.

#which takes me to my next point #snupin would actually be a pretty dark and toxic ship if we follow remus's character #i mean c'mon #the asshole loved to taunt snape even as adults #back when i first read the books i thought lupin had a crush on snape because on how he spoke to him alone #i know most people characterize him as this sweet and gentle boy that wouldn't hurt a fly #and snupin is mostly written as a super romantic and fluffy dynamic #but no #if we were canon compliant snupin would be dark as hell #and i'm here for it #snape was canonically terrified of lupin and the bastard knew it #imagine how would that play in accurately written fics #snupin #remus lupin #severus snape #pro snape #anti marauders #pro severus snape #hp headcanons #harry potter

[gregorovitch-adler]

Beloved

"So, she's alive then. How are we feeling about that?" John asked, holding a whiskey glass in his left hand.

He knew he had wrecked everything by not denying Irene's statement: "Well, I am (gay). Look at us both."

How could he? Wasn't that the truth? Sherlock was the person John and Irene Adler had both fallen for, even though he did not comply with the sexual orientation of either of them.

Once she had hit the core of the matter with a few words, John had no option but to remain speechless; much as he would have loved to retort - just to get a one-up over her in a conversation for once.

On the contrary, John had huffed out a short laugh in approval.

What was worse, Sherlock had heard all that. He had been standing right there the whole time, revealing his presence because of that bloody text alert sound.

Meaning: Sherlock now knew how John felt for him.

John gulped down his throat at the horrifying thought.

Sherlock was holding his violin close to his neck, contemplating which tune to play next. Another song for Irene, John thought bitterly.

John had helped Mrs Hudson with her bruises from those anonymous attackers. Sherlock had taken care of those attackers on his own, and now they were probably locked up in Scotland Yard.

The point was that John had tried to approach Sherlock, wanting to clarify everything after whatever happened in the Battersea Power Station. To make things less awkward, if at all that was possible. But he had been interrupted the first time. So, he was giving it a go once more.

"D'you think you'll be seeing her again?" John pressed, unwilling to let go of this subject today, even after Sherlock's lack of response - which had led to a rather pointed silence in the sitting room.

Sherlock walked closer to the window, without even bothering to turn around. "Happy New Year, John," he said over his shoulder and began to play.

John felt physically sick in his stomach. He sipped on his whiskey, wincing at the burning sensation in his mouth. Somehow, even swallowing a sip of alcohol felt like trying to shove a large piece of rock down his throat.

By not replying to John's very direct questions, Sherlock had made it crystal clear where his interests lay. The Woman.

John had fallen for Sherlock a long time ago. He would sometimes scare himself off with the amount of seriousness he felt whenever he thought about his love for Sherlock.

He was John's beloved, in his mind at least.

Now, if Sherlock had fallen for someone else... who was John to get in the way?

John just wanted to see Sherlock happy and stable. If Irene being alive after all made him feel that, then so be it.

John sighed wistfully, looking in Sherlock's direction one last time, before he made his way to the staircase leading to his bedroom.

Subconsciously, he gripped the whiskey glass tight on his way.

***

Prompt Beloved by @onesmallfamily

Tags: @helloliriels @topsyturvy-turtely @gaylilsherlock @lisbeth-kk @keirgreeneyes @missdeliadili @lookingforlifeoutthere @peanitbear @a-victorian-girl @calaisreno @curlyjohnlock .

#johnlock #bbc sherlock #john watson #sherlock holmes #sherlock holmes/john watson #sherlock x john #angst #pining john watson #asib #canon compliant #30 days of sherlock september 2023 #prompt: beloved #sherlockian #sherlock headcanon #ficlet #new ficlet #fic writing

[seven-ruins-it]

Taking it back: a wolfstar oneshot (?)

“You still have these?” Sirius asks, holding up his Pokémon card deck with two fingers, like a cigarette, just like he had before either of them were old enough to smoke.

“I wasn’t about to throw them out,” Remus shrugs, shifting against his wall and wincing when he hears his Bowie poster crinkle. 

“What, you think they’ll be worth anything in ten years?” Sirius says, wiggling the card over to get the sun glinting in the silver part.

“I wouldn’t sell them if they were.” 

That gets him to turn with a quirked brow. After a beat, a slanted smirk grows. “You sentimental prick.” 

Remus rolls his eyes. “Not everything’s about money.”

“Sure, but, c’mon.” Sirius waves the cards around before sliding them in his jacket pocket. “You’ve got me still, you don’t need the bloody shiny.” Remus pushes himself off the wall and is grappling Sirius’ arm in seconds. 

“That’s not funny, give them back.” Sirius, the prick, prickishly keeps his hands buried in his pockets and swerves any attempt Remus makes to get them out. 

“Why?” He smoothly sidesteps another dive with an infuriating amused smile. “They were mine, I’m just taking back my loan.” Remus straightens, three feet away from his friend. His room isn’t big, they’ve swam around three circles by now. 

“They were a gift, you can’t take back a gift.”

“Why not?”

“How would you feel if I took your stupid bloody radio?”

Sirius, even with his snow white complexion, blanches, smirk finally slipping off his face. “You wouldn’t.”

“Oh, you know I would.” He delivers it in a slow, low tone to get his point across.

Sirius shuffles the cards around in his pockets nervously, narrows his eyes. “You like Queen just as much as I do.”

“Not that loudly. And don’t forget who bought you that CD.”

Sirius’ throat audibly clicks in a swallow. “Fine, have them,” he says after a moment, putting the deck on Remus’ desk with a thud. “I don’t even get why you care so much, they’re just stupid merch for a show we barely watched.”

Remus walks over and sorts the cards into a pile. “Would you quit being obtuse? I keep them because you gave them to me.”

He doesn’t need to turn to know his friend is making a face. A stupid one. “I give you things   all the time.”

“It was different then. We were different people.”

Sirius cracks his neck. “We were shorter,” he says sardonically. 

“Yeah, well, I happen to think there’s some value in preserving memories as they happened.” He wraps the cards up with a near-crumbling elastic and puts it back in his cardboard box of childhood memorabilia. 

Sirius snorts. “Oh please, nostalgia is a lie our brains tell us because it’s always out to kill us. It’s our entire job to tell it to shut up.”

“What about our friendship makes you so eager to forget it?” Remus asks irritably, giving the box a good shove so it slides under his bed. 

“That’s not the point at all, the point is that the past is the past, good or not.”

“So do you not think the past informs the present at all? You’re just a completely new person every second.”

“Yes, actually, I do,” Sirius says, self satisfied.

“Great,” Remus says, before punching Sirius in the shoulder like he’s seen James do during Quidditch. 

“Ow!” His friend exclaims, reaching for the offended area. “The hell was that for?!”

“I don’t know, you should ask me from a second ago.” He bats his eyes innocently. “I’m a different person now.” 

Sirius punches his shoulder and Remus’ arm immediately cramps with his nerves’ protests. 

“Jesus!”

“Sorry, that was meant for you from a second ago,” he says, presumably going for impish but snarling the words.

“I was just proving a point, you did it way harder!”

“I did it just as hard as you!”

“You’re basically wearing armour with your stupid shoulder pads!” Sirius hugs his arms with raised shoulders. “I am not wearing shoulder pads, it’s just the model of all leather jackets!”

“Well, the stupid model of your stupid leather jacket has stupid shoulder pads!”

Sirius shoves him and he has to step back to catch himself, not expecting the attack. “You don’t get to call my jacket stupid when all you wear are ugly sweaters.”

Remus shoves him back, more effectively with the advantage of his height. “You’re being ridiculous!” The last word is winded because of Sirius tackling him onto his bed. They roll around grappling for the upper hand and sprinkle in petty curses. 

“You unfeeling bastard,” Remus gets in before Sirius rolls them over so he’s on top. 

“You went after my style, and you’re calling me the unfeeling one?” Sirius argues. 

“They’re ripped out of a Muggle magazine, they’re barely even your clothes ‘cause you sure as hell aren’t original,” Remus retorts.

“You’re just jealous ‘cause you can’t show your arms,” Sirius says, making both of them freeze. Their hands are clasped together but Sirius’ loosen their grip as he sits back, shocked at himself. “Remus…” he starts, but gets interrupted by Remus throwing him back, landing him on the ground with a thud and a groan. 

“Shit,” Remus says, eyes wide. He retreats into his body, still hopped up on adrenaline from the fight, his mind somewhere above him, looking at his arms frozen in front of him as a stranger’s (as a hairier iteration). He shakes himself and slides off the bed, crouching down next to his friend. “Shit,” he repeats, “Sirius, I’m so sorry, are you alright? Can you breathe?”

Sirius, worryingly, just groans again, gasping air as Remus helps him sit up and tries to teach him how to breathe again. After a minute or two, he gasps out “Fuck-” another gasp “-you.” 

“I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry, I got so angry, or, I dunno, I couldn’t think-” he chokes out with the breath he’s been holding since Sirius hit the ground. Sirius puts a hand on his shoulder, the one he hit, and shakes his head, eyes dull from the exhaustive panic. 

“Don’t you start now.”

Remus can’t begin to think about laughing it off. “Are you in pain anywhere?” He checks the back of Sirius’ head and spine with medical touch he’s observed throughout his life but only ever handled on his own body. He finds no grievous injuries, at least not before Sirius swats him away. 

“Get off, you tit.” He holds his wrists together and meets his eyes meaningfully. “I’m fine. Some bruises but I’m fine. Nothing to write church about, alright?”

“Okay,” Remus says, finally feeling the edges of himself again, anchored by the warm hands holding him together. 

“I did deserve it, besides,” Sirius says, with a melancholic half smile that’s just as infuriating as all his smugness from before. Remus pushes his hands off and stands. 

“Like hell you do,” he says. Sirius blinks. “You don’t actually believe that crap, do you?”

“Remus,” he laughs -laughs- nervously. “C’mon, you’re allowed to be angry.”

“No, I’m not just going to sit here and.” He takes a shaky breath to collect himself and promptly sits down to level their height. “I am angry. At you, for what you said.” Sirius shifts his legs to sit criss-cross. Their knees brush before Sirius pulls him further in. “But I’m bloody furious at your mum and dad for making you think me shoving you on the floor was in any way right.” Sirius winces. 

“I’m alright, really,” he assures, but Remus shakes his head. 

“It never should’ve happened. I’m sorry about punching you, too. I never should’ve started all that, especially with my…” The remembered chill of hair growing at an impossible rate all down his back runs through his spine. The impact of Sirius’ fist against his shoulder -the other one this time- pulls him right out of it. 

“Ow!”

“Would you quit that?” Sirius demands with a look of near hurt. “People get angry, it’s got nothing to do with all that.” He leans back again. “And I’m sorry too, alright? About the cards and the… the thing I said.” Remus nods, rubbing his shoulder. Later, he knows he’ll ruminate on just how visible he is to Sirius, but right now the arm hurts more. The Quidditch has recently really bulked Sirius up, Jesus. 

“I get why you said it. It’s just that… sometimes you act like we met each other yesterday. Like we mean nothing to each other except for how entertaining we can be.”

When he looks up, Sirius is frowning. “When do I do that? I don’t think that.”

“Well, it’s just I’ve noticed-” Sirius stands.

“You’re wrong. We’ve been friends for ages, if you feel like you’re being fake that’s on you, not me.”

“I’m not the one being fake here,” Remus says affrontedly. 

“Oh yeah?” Sirius says.

“Yeah.” Remus pushes himself to his feet, wincing at the strain it puts on both of his injured shoulders.

“Then tell me how exactly I’ve been weirding you out so much.”

“I didn’t say that.” He frowns and takes a step towards his friend, but he steps back. The arguing is rapidly forming a pressure on his synapses, he’d never even meant to start anything and in his attempt to swerve them away from a cliff’s edge they were rapidly careening towards a roaring waterfall. “Oh my God, look, it’s things like that, alright? Flat out denial of things I can see are happening.” Sirius stares flatly. “Things we…” Remus scratches at the back of his ear, bothered. “Things we both remember,” he finishes softly, daring enough only for darting glances up at Sirius, still as the marble statue that served as their hiding place for many pranks throughout the years. He thinks they’d both quite prefer to be there right now, stifling their laughter, wedged in between cold stone slabs.

“What,” Sirius’ voice catches and he clears his throat. “What things. Remus.”

#canon compliant except for the pokemon cards #idk whether to post on ao3 #the marauders #marauders #dead gay wizards #marauders era #remus lupin #wolfstar #marauders fanfiction #sirius black #wolfstar fanfiction #marauders fanfic #wolfstar angst #wolfstar headcanon #wolfstar fanfic #wolfstar fic #remus lupin angst #remus loves sirius #remus x sirius #padfoot #moony x padfoot #remus angst #sirius black angst

[imgeekgirlfan]

I Will Follow You Into The Dark

Pairings:  Astarion x Original Female Character(Named Tav)  [From Baldur's Gate 3]

Tag/Warnings : Canon Compliant, Post-Endgame, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Tragedy, Mentions of past abuse, Suicidal Thoughts, References to Depression, Angst and Hurt/Comfort

Synopsis : Astarion returned to the city of Baldur's Gate, following the final request of his beloved, who asked him to bury her next to his grave. As dawn approached, Astarion held the lifeless body of his love, reminiscing about the countless memories they shared together.

A/N : The story started when I came across this tweet: 'do you guys think your tavs/durges stayed with their love interest long term or not?'

I got the idea to tell the story of my Tav and her love interest, Astarion. What would happen to them after the end of Baldur's Gate 3? I've been thinking about it a lot and it's quite heartbreaking.

From these little headcanons, I developed this one-shot about them.

My Tav is a human bard with a noble background. So, I imagined her as the daughter of a noble Baldurian,which contrasts with Astarion's background. Their initial relationship was more of a adversaries before blossoming into love in the end.

Listening to the song "I Will Follow You into the Dark" by Death Cab for Cutie gave me a lot of inspiration for this couple. (At first, I wanted to use the song "Take Me To Church" as the title, but it's too popular. I thought a song that many might not have heard of would be fitting for this tale.)

Read in Ao3 : here

"Jones," Astarion whispered, calling his beloved, but she didn't respond. 

Her eyes closed tightly, her body growing colder with each passing moment. 

Astarion pulled her closer, hoping his slight warmth might warm her. He knew it wouldn't help, and she would never wake to look into his eyes again.

Human lives are fleeting, from young maiden to old crone, from crone to spirit. 

Her entire life was a blink of an eye compared to his cursed immortality. 

Once, Astarion had both disdain and curiosity about this human. A race so fragile and feeble, never wielding a sword to harm anyone, raised in a noble family, spending half a comfortable lifetime in a grand mansion in Baldur’s Gate, surrounded by obedient servants bowing to her every whim.

He couldn't make sense of her. For a vampire like him who had struggled to survive amidst enemies and a cruel world for centuries. He was nothing but a bloodthirsty creature, a servant under a master's foot who got treated worse than a common slave, struggling to sustain his life with the taste of filthy rat blood that almost made him vomit.

Astarion envies her for an ideal life in the gilded cage he could only dream of. envied the short-lived human existence. While he had no right to die willingly if his evil master didn't want him to die,

And he wondered why she had fled her high-life in the capital city of Baldur’s Gate to suffer with them. why someone so inept at fighting would risk her life battling monsters, from goblins and evil undead to even gods, to aid them and help everyone unrelated to her.

He thought Jones was foolish, and he didn't like fools.

Ironically, eighty years later, he found himself shedding tears at her death.

"I wish to be buried beside your grave, Star." That was one of her last wishes before she breathed her last in his embrace. This led Astarion to make the singular decision to step out of the Underdark and return to Baldur’s Gate, the city where he once hated heavily, to fulfill the last wish of his beloved.

The black sky began to turn deep blue. Astarion knew he should hurry to bury Jones properly before the sunrise. As he contemplated, his eyes caught withered flowers left on the ground near his own grave marker. For a brief moment, Astarion reminisced about the memories he shared with her. He had once brought Jones to his own grave, recounting his life before turning into a vampire. and then visualizing a future where he wished to live with her,as his past had died over two centuries ago and she was the only future he desired.

Astarion remembered his overwhelming fear that Jones might refuse him. She was the highborn daughter of Baldur’s Gate's noble families. Why would she choose to endure the hardships of life with an elf vampire like him?

Yet his fear vanished instantly when he saw the soft smile on her smooth face. She placed flowers on his grave and embraced him, accepting his love wholeheartedly. 

That night was the night he died and was reborn in her embrace. Not as the enslaved Astarion, not as the villainous Astarion, but as Astarion the redeemed, never to be alone again because he would have her by his side forever.

But the words 'forever' don't really exist, especially for humans and vampires.

Still, Astarion couldn't help but secretly hope.

Sometimes, darker thoughts overshadow his mind, eclipsing all the goodness he has left. Astarion often secretly pondered that if he chose the path of power, performed an ancient ritual to sacrifice seven thousand souls to a devil, and transformed himself into a vampire ascendant, he would have enough strength to walk in the sunlight with her and enough power to turn her into a vampire like him. Then they could live together forever without the fear of death taking her away.

But it was Jones who restrained him then. She persuaded Astarion to see that these powers offered him nothing but the dark legacy of the Vampire Master, an inheritance of wickedness that would never end. She told him he could be better than Cazador, his former master, and he didn't have to continue killing others to sustain his existence anymore.

Astarion trusted her, though he couldn't deny feeling deeply regretful. And Jones sensed his feelings. She gently grasped his cold hands and earnestly vowed, "Star, I will find a way to cure you of vampirism, so you can walk under the sunlight with me again."

And she kept her promise. After successfully helping Baldur’s Gate city fend off the threats of the Mind Flayers and Nether Brain, she and him began a new adventure together. They journeyed across the entire continent of Faerûn, from Waterdeep to Athkatla, Neverwinter, Luskan, and even the mysterious realm of Feywild, all in pursuit of finding a cure for him.

Those times were special, building strong bonds and beautiful memories between them. They laughed together, danced together, fought together, and held each other close under vast skies and twinkling stars as witnesses.

Until Jones began to age and couldn’t continue the journey. That was when they both realized how little time they had left. And no matter how much time and effort they put in, there was no way to find a cure for him anymore.

Facing the harsh reality was incredibly difficult. Astarion had to hide his deep sorrow while he tried to persuade her to stop the adventure and live out her remaining days in the Underdark, the dark and sunless realm, the only place where he could be with her.

He knew what the near future held. Nothing would hurt as much as watching his beloved age continuously, waiting for her time to pass while he remained unchanged.

"I'm sorry I couldn't help you as I promised. Please forgive me," she said during their time in Underdark. Her bright blue eyes, the very eyes he fell in love with, overflowed with guilt.

Astarion wanted her to know that he could never be angry or hate her.

The shovel still lay untouched on the ground, with no sign of being used anytime soon. While the vampire elf sat silently in front of his own grave marker, letting old memories flow through his mind once more,. Both his arms cradled her lifeless body as if she were still alive.

"My beloved Star, please continue to live on for me. I wish to see you happy for a long time," another of her last requests echoed in his mind. The gentle touch of her frail hand on his cheek still lingers in his heart to this day.

"Jones." Astarion whispers her name again. Tears, which he had not shed for a long time, now streamed down his pale face. "I can't do it," he murmured to her lifeless body. "How can I find happiness without you?"

A golden beam slowly crept in, chasing away the darkness from the vast sky. Yet Astarion's body remained unmoving, just like the eyes of the vampire, which refused to leave the withered face of his beloved for a second. He memorized every detail of her, keeping it in his memory as best as he could. She still looked as beautiful as ever in his eyes—always and forever.

"I wish the next life was real. I hope we'll meet again, live together, and build a family," Astarion whispered softly, planting a tender kiss on the edge of her lips. "Wait for me, darling. I'll follow you soon, no matter where you choose to go."

Finally, he tore his gaze away from her, looking up at the sky once more. For the first time in centuries, he had the chance to gaze at the nearing dawn with full eyes. As the sun peeked over the horizon, followed by the warm rays starting to seep through his skin, cracks began to form, turning his skin into tiny specks of dust.

Before his final consciousness faded, Astarion's thoughts remained vivid. 

This was the most beautiful dawn he had ever witnessed.

#baldur’s gate 3 #bg3 #astarion #astarion x f!tav #astarion x tav #astarion x oc #named tav #female tav #human tav #vampire spawn astarion #astarion angst #astarion fic #astarion fanfiction #astarion fanfic #astarion romance #astarion bg3 #astarion x mc #astarion headcanons #bg3 astarion #baldur’s gate 3 fanfiction #bg3 tav #bg3 fic #canon compliant #Post-endgame #original female character #original character

[tenderjock]

in the middle before I knew that I had begun; [not a happy codywan ficlet]

In the Jedi teaching, attachment is forbidden. Love is – a separate issue, obviously, as love can take many forms. When Cody and I were – what I mean is, I was –

You realized that you were in love with him and panicked.

: :

Obi-Wan is finishing the dregs of his second Daruvvian champagne cocktail when Breha inhales, sharp.

“Hmm?” he turns to her. His head is pleasantly fuzzy, but he’s far from nonfunctional. “My dear, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she’s quick to reassure him. There’s something strained around her eyes. He turns to see what she had been looking at, and she puts an insistent hand on his arm. “No, Obi-Wan –”

He doesn’t immediately see whatever caused Breha such stress; instead, Obi-Wan’s eyes go to Cody, sharply dressed in his greys across the ballroom. He’s talking to the Ghayyn’i ambassador, a handsome man with wide green eyes. The ambassador is tall enough that Cody has to look up to meet his gaze. Obi-Wan opens his mouth to comment, rather snarkily, on that fact, when the ambassador brushes gentle, sensual fingers across Cody’s chest.

Obi-Wan waits for Cody to move away. He doesn’t. Instead, he smiles, a little knowing quirk of the lips.

“Oh,” he says, feeling rather as though the wind has been knocked out of him. “Oh.” He quickly looks away. Cody is a very private person, and it feels wrong to have seen something so clearly intimate.

“Obi-Wan,” Breha says, and her face is sad. Obi-Wan doesn’t know why it’s sad. Nothing bad has happened. He clears his throat, thinking one of the sweet-pickle cherries in his drink must have caught there. Unbidden, his gaze is drawn back to Cody and the – the ambassador, who is now laughing at something Cody said.

It’s fine. It’s beyond fine – it’s wonderful, that people recognize Cody for the brilliant man that he is, Obi-Wan explains, three cocktails later, eyes closed with his head in Bail’s lap. Bail makes a noncommittal noise.

“People other than his command,” he clarifies. “And his fellow commanders. And, ah. Me.” His voice is very rough on the last word. These sugary drinks are really hell on the throat, he thinks.

“Of course, love,” Breha says soothingly. Her hand cards through his hair. It feels pleasant. Cody does the same, when they’re lying in Obi-Wan’s bunk together after a long day.

Obi-Wan opens his eyes, letting them stare unfocused somewhere near the floor. Breha is really wearing the most ridiculous shoes, and he’s thinking he should tell her that when a pair of GAR-issued boots come to a crisp halt just in his line of sight.

“General,” Cody says. Obi-Wan nearly falls out of Bail’s lap in his effort to sit up quickly.

“Commander!” he says, helpless to how warm he sounds. Cody had looked good when they left the ship, all buttoned up in his uniform, but he looks better now. He’s holding his cap in his hand, letting Obi-Wan see his short curls, and the top clasp of his jacket is undone.

Obi-Wan squints. Is that a lovebite on his neck?

Before he can dwell on that, Cody says, “We should get you back to the Temple, sir.”

Obi-Wan considers that. He’s fine where he is, except that when he attempts to lay back down in Bail’s lap, both Bail and Breha push him back up.

“That’s a good idea,” Bail says, firm but kind. How he adores the man. “I can arrange for an air taxi – Commander, are you alright to see him back?” There’s something uncertain in Bail’s voice. Obi-Wan doesn’t know why; it’s Cody. Of course they’ll see each other back.

Cody just looks at him. In this light, his eyes are dark honey.

“I’ll get you home, boss,” he says after a beat. Obi-Wan blinks at him, lips parted. He suddenly feels the alcohol very much, everything loose and golden and a little bit sweaty. Cody’s lips twitch. “C’mon, then.”

Cody manhandles Obi-Wan to his feet. Obi-Wan tucks his face into Cody’s shoulder as best he can while also moving his limbs in the direction of the taxi Bail is calling them. Cody, wonderful steady dependable Cody, keeps him going, a hand at his waist and another under his armpit.

“The ambassador,” Obi-Wan manages after a few steps. Cody hums.

“He had to leave,” Cody says. “There was an afterparty. He asked –” he cuts himself off, then continues: “I’d rather stay here, honestly.”

Obi-Wan nuzzles the starched fabric of his shirt. Wonderful man, he thinks.

The taxi ride lurches unpleasantly. Obi-Wan is distracted by the task of not spewing the contents of his stomach all over his commander. They get to the Temple without incident, and make it to Obi-Wan’s rooms with no one other than Yoda – who cackles – seeing them.

Cody puts Obi-Wan down in his bed. Obi-Wan tugs him in after.

He catches himself above Obi-Wan, arms bracketing Obi-Wan’s head. Cody huffs a bit of laughter and dips down to brush a kiss over his forehead. Obi-Wan cranes up, chasing his lips.

“Not now, sir,” Cody says, chiding. He kneels at the side of the bed to take off Obi-Wan’s boots. When he’s done, he leans back up, brushing the hair out of Obi-Wan’s face.

Obi-Wan beams at him, feeling unbearably fond. His Cody. His darling. Always looking after him.

Cody’s face is very still, just a few inches above his. Obi-Wan reaches out, touches his scar.

“What are you thinking?” he wonders. Cody shakes his head.

“It’s nothing.” He kisses Obi-Wan’s forehead again. “Get some rest, General.”

Obi-Wan exhales, eyes fluttering closed. He tracks Cody’s movement, straightening his jacket, turning the lights off, slipping out the door. His familiar Force presence is warm sunlight and hot caf, thrilling and comfortable in equal measure.

As the door clicks closed, Obi-Wan murmurs sleepily to himself, “Love you, my darling.”

: :

When he wakes up, head pounding and mouth dry, Obi-Wan remembers what he said. He’s the only one that heard it; it would have been easier to forget.

This complicates things.

Somehow, they go a fortnight, ending their leave and starting a mission, without Obi-Wan saying anything. He’s just – waiting for the right moment, a moment when they aren’t dogged by war and flimsiwork, when he can talk to Cody calmly and reasonably.

Or does he even need to talk to Cody? He was drunk. Everyone says things they don’t mean when they’re drunk. Teenage drunken Anakin once told Obi-Wan he wished he had been born a jellysquash, as they have no feelings and don’t know enough to care.

Cody is leading a squad on Im-Onh-Augulu’s surface when comms cut out. It’s a tense three-quarter hour before they reestablish communications.

“Arrow squad to Vigilance,” Corporal Hart is saying. “Vigilance, do you copy?”

“Copy,” Gregor says, shooting Obi-Wan a look. Cody should be the one contacting them and they both very well know it. “Arrow, sitrep, over.”

“Is General Kenobi there, Captain?” the corporal says. “Over.”

Obi-Wan’s heart is in his throat. “I’m listening, Hart, over,” he says. Under the sleeves of his robes, he’s clenching his wrists hard enough to bruise.

“They captured the commander, sir,” Hart says, desperately blunt. “When they recognized him, they took him and left the rest of us. Said they’re going to use him for negotiations. Over.”

Gregor looks at him. Appalment-sympathy-secondhand-embarrassment-stress is radiating off not just him, but also every clone trooper and officer on the bridge.

Use him for negotiations. Because Cody was a Marshal Commander of the Grand Army of the Republic. Because he was Obi-Wan’s right hand man. Because Obi-Wan loved him, dearly, and would do near about anything to get him back, a fact which was apparently obvious to everyone except for him.

“Understood,” Obi-Wan says, feeling like his mouth is very far away from his body. “Regroup at the drop point; we’ll be sending a secondary team to that location for extraction.” He’s quiet for a second, nails biting into skin. “May the Force be with you. Over.”

: :

Obi-Wan is the one leading the extraction team, and Obi-Wan is the one to find Cody. He’s in bad shape.

“Didn’t –” Cody slurs out. His eyes can’t seem to focus. “Didn’t tell – ah – them kriff, sir.”

Obi-Wan stares at him, heart pounding in his chest. At his commander – at Cody, telling him that he didn’t fucking talk, when he was being fucking tortured because of Obi-Wan –

“I know,” he says, finally, blinking. He touches the pads of his fingers to Cody’s left eye. “I know you didn’t.” Obi-Wan leaves off the my dear at the end of that sentence, because it doesn’t feel right. It doesn’t feel like he deserves it. He slings an arm around Cody and hauls him to his feet, instead. “Right this way, Commander.”

Not just his commander. The man he loves.

That thought beats around Obi-Wan’s head for almost a day before he can reconcile it with the heavy feeling in his gut. The man he loves. And he doesn’t – he can’t – it doesn’t mean –

His chest hurts.

Cody doesn’t –

It can’t be so kriffing serious that he can’t think the words. It’s not. It’s not –

Cody doesn’t love him. How could he? How could his beautiful, brave, resilient, kind Commander Cody, who isn’t really his at all – how could he love Obi-Wan? And if he did – if he had some incredible lapse in judgement that allowed him to – to – Cody would have said something, his brutally levelheaded Cody who wasn’t afraid of anything, let alone Obi-Wan and his feelings –

So, no. Cody didn’t love him. That shouldn’t make Obi-Wan feel like his ribcage was being split in two.

And if Cody doesn’t love him, then that means it isn’t wrong for Obi-Wan to – kiss him, soft and warm, and press his cold nose to the back of Cody’s neck, and hold him, and –

It can’t be wrong, can it? It can’t be wrong. It hurts no one. He knows possession is against the Jedi code, but this isn’t possession, because Cody isn’t his, and Cody doesn’t love him, and –

Obi-Wan feels ill.

Cody remains in bacta for three days. Obi-Wan finishes his flimsiwork, then finishes Cody’s flimsiwork, then works on some of Gregor’s flimsiwork. He arranges the battle plans for their next two attacks. He oversees the writing of some new training protocols, something about not letting shinies have access to oxygen tanks. He scrubs his quarters, stem to stern, twice.

Eventually, Cody wakes up. And like a flutterbug drawn to flame, Obi-Wan goes to him.

: :

“We need to stop,” Obi-Wan says. He’s not looking at Cody. It’s the day after the commander’s been released by the medics, and he came to Obi-Wan’s quarters to get the datapads Obi-Wan had borrowed when he was doing all the flimsiwork he could get his hands on.

“… Stop?” Cody asks. His brow is furrowed. Obi-Wan aches to smooth it out.

“This,” Obi-Wan starts, and stumbles. “Our – us. What we have. We need to stop.”

He expects Cody to argue. He expects Cody to demand an explanation. He doesn’t expect Cody to take a slow, deep breath and say, “Of course, sir. If you think it’s best.”

Obi-Wan feels like his chest has caved in. He can’t speak.

“Anything else, sir?” Cody asks. Obi-Wan shakes his head, blinking hard.

Cody stands there at parade rest for a long moment before Obi-Wan realizes he’s waiting for a dismissal. He clears his throat. “Ah, no, Commander. That’s all.”

Cody salutes crisply – salutes – and about-faces to the door. When it clicks shut behind him, Obi-Wan lets out a single hideous, strangled sob. He buries his face in his hands.

Well. At least it looks like they won’t have to dance around each other awkwardly for much longer, he thinks to himself. The war looks to be over soon. Obi-Wan sniffs, straightens himself up, and pulls up the plans for the invasion of Utapau.

#codywan #obi wan kenobi #commander cody #star wars #the clone wars #this is technically kind of canon compliant! its also my personal headcanon for their relationship plotline #Friends With Benefits only theyre actually in love and one half realizes several years before the other. #and this story is told from the perspective of the half that didnt realize it until it was too late and then he panicked. #the working title for this was ''certified dumbass obi-wan'' but it could have just as easily have been ''useless bisexual obi-wan'' #may the force be with you #myfic #also because obi-wan lowkey thinks he's the center of the galaxy he's gonna think that part of the fallout of o66 #was due to the fact that he broke up with his steady lay-slash-love of his life

[sixeyescurseuser]

(Headcanon)

Thinking about Shoko who gets hella confused when she interacts with men who aren’t Gojo or Geto, aka gay icons. She just spends so much time with those fools, who are admittedly quite entertaining to watch. 

Shoko will observe hetero men and wonder: “Huh, why don’t they put their hands on their hips? Not sassy enough…”

Or, “He’s talking on the phone without bending his neck at a 90° angle?”

Or, “Man, this guy is like a rock. So expressionless.”

Shoko sees the str8 guys’ pants and thinks: “Not skinny jeans, but also not those billowy loose pantaloons…”

Plus, getting str8 men to engage in actual conversation can be a PAIN. Why don’t they reciprocate basic questions? Would it kill them to add inflection to their tone, or give more than two-sentence answers?

Meanwhile, Gojo and Geto never stop talking. They have the innate skill of arguing about the dumbest shit. They’re loud af too. Shoko frequently has to tell them to shut the fuck up.  

At first, Geto will be like, “Satoru, we need to lower our voices,” but then he gets too heated in proving his point and forgoes his manners. Gojo simply has no problem egging Geto on, nor speaking whatever comes to his mind.

***

During one of the goodwill exchange events, Gojo and Geto grew bored and began competing against each other. Even the Kyoto guys, who are rugged and masculine by traditional standards, have to veer out of the way to avoid their path of destruction. 

No one stands a chance against the gays.

(Gojo, jumping out of the way when Geto sends a tornado kick: “Woah! That made your ass look good, Suguru!”

Geto rolls his eyes and continues to try to beat this loser. 

Moments later, Yaga-sensei broadcasts to the  entire arena, yelling at his students to, “Quit fighting each other - you do enough of that already - and focus on the competition!”

Gojo tackles Geto while yelling: “Suguru started it!”

Geto yanks on Gojo’s hair. “Satoru you fucking LIAR!”)

***

Then, there’s conversations that make it clear to Shoko that despite being able to start a podcast each time they open their mouths, having interesting fashion, or flaunting undeniable charisma and fuck-you-you’re-irrelevant energy, the gays still have their shit to figure out. 

Meaning, they should really kiss. Each other. 

That will happen in due time, Shoko is sure.

For now, she’ll enjoy the entertainment the strongest pair insist on showcasing - for free - every day. 

(Gojo, rubbing his full tummy after devouring an all-you-can-eat buffet: "Guys, I’m pregnant.”

Shoko turns to Geto. “Congrats.”

“Damn,” Geto says without missing a beat. He glances at Gojo with soft eyes. “But we used a condom.”

Gojo nudges Geto with his shoulder, then gazes up at Geto over the rims of his black shades. “I poked holes in it beforehand. Didn’t think it’d actually take though…”

They continue like that for a sickeningly long time, fabricating an entire story full of scandalous decisions and questioning family-planning. 

Shoko doesn’t comment on their bright, pink cheeks by the end of it.)

*** w/ @no-one-says-hi

#jjk #satosugu #geto suguru #gojo satoru #ieri shoko #satosugu fluff #satosugu fanfic #jjk headcanon #satosugu headcanon #jujutsu kaisen #canon compliant #cerdrabbles

[mr-laveau]

"Laveau, how much angst did you give your darlin?" Good question! Here's an answer pt. 1

Tags: discussion death of parental figures, childhood rejection, not canon compliant, angst got dialled up to 11, this was all made pre-reveal of the canon timeline, Highschool!David/Darlin, just be prepared to understand that I put my darlin through some shit.

Darlin who turns 13 and finds out they're a shifter. Their local department branch threatens to take them from their parents if they cannot find a pack. Their parents pack some bags and go looking

Darlin who was rejected from every other pack because they were seen as too much of a liability to be introduced to any pack. Packs either couldn't accept new shifters, didn't want to train a humanborn shifter, didn't want to accept an autistic child into the pack or simply made up excuses not to take Darlin in.

Darlin who watches their parents struggle with getting them into a pack, driving from state to state, trying to learn about magic and keep their child safe as they search for a place to help them develop as a shifter.

Darlin who leanred to use their magic on their own at a young age so they weren't a burden to potential packs who could take them in.

Darlin whose parents, Darius and Renko Lancer fought tooth and nail with Gabe Shaw and Frank Talbot to get their kid into a pack despite not being empowered.

Darlin whose family is accepted and took up residence at the edge of pack territory in a log cabin. They make it work

Darlin who's introduced to the pack at 15, it has been two years since Darren Lancer first found out he was a shifter and he is better at using his magic than most of the adults in the pack. He is seen as a prodigy and they quickly make friends with David, Milo and Asher. They are finally given a place to be themselves and have friends.

Darren has stayed with the pack for six months when they get the call during class that their parents were involved in an accident in their home. He runs home immediately and sees the scene. They learn that a rival pack attacked their home for being too close to their territory at the boundary of the shaw pack. Their parents fu=ought back and were killed in the incident. The department promises to look into the matter. The case runs cold.

Darren stays a month in his parents' cabin after their deaths. Nothing was touched. Darren has not cleaned it since their parents died. There is dried blood in some spots where the department did not reach. The smell of iron fills Darren's lungs and he has not been to school since. There are rumours about Darren spread by some of the adults of the pack. They think Darren has broken psychologically, they think that Darren is sick and they eventually call the authorities to have Darren taken out of the pack and placed in foster care. It is not successful and Gabe Shaw intervenes. A week after, Darren is placed under the care of Marie and Colm Greer. He is not officially adopted and has refuted the option of adoption. He is sixteen when he arrives into their home, his birthday passed and he didn't tell anyone. He instead spent it alone, cleaning his parents' cabin.

Darren Lancer gets into a fight with Christian after he takes their dad's jacket from them to put it to wash. He has a broken nose and a scar on his chest. The pack disapproves of their actions and threatens removal. Gabe however shows Darren how to clean and maintain leather jackets 1 month and 2 weeks after the death of their parents.

The department has Darren in holding after they were caught fighting with the rival pack that attacked their parents. Five wolves have had their limbs mangled and may not walk well again, Two wolves are in critical condition and a wolf is too traumatised to give testimony. They are found out to be the same wolves that attacked Darren's parents and Gabe intervenes to keep Darren out of trouble 1 month 3 weeks after the death of their parents.

Marie scolds Darren and admits them into therapy. Darren and Milo grow closer as a result of Colm's bad habits worsening. A month after the death of their parents, as marie cries alone in the kitchen, Darren sits next to her and hugs her. 2 months after feeling robbed, Darren feels connected to the Greers.

Darren starts to learn guitar and music as an outlet after being suggested by his therapist. Marie reminds Milo and Darren to keep it down a few nights but she's glad to see that they're getting along better. Darren rejoins pack meetings and social gatherings with the pack 3 months after the death of their parents. David makes friends with them much to the disapproval of the rest of the pack's adults. Gabe invites Darren over for dinner.

4 months after, Darren is officially dating David Shaw. Gabe invites Darren over again, and again, and again. Marie has taught Darren how to cook, clean and how to trust. She has taught him how to defend himself emotionally and physically. Gabe has taught Darren how to run free in the forests nearby as a wolf, he's taught Darren how to tussle and David is there to learn with him. Milo, David and Asher invite Darren to hang out regularly. Milo and Asher feign disgust seeing them kiss but they're glad seeing them both happy. David says he loves them and Darren isn't shy to say it too.

Darren turns 17 and David asks him to senior prom. It's one of the best nights he's had. They dance with Milo and pull stunts with Asher but the final dance is reserved for David before they leave the dance and spend the rest of the night together. It's been 5 months and Darren feels at peace.

#redacted darlin #darlin #redacted audio darlin #redacted tank #redacted audio tank #redacted asmr darlin #redacted asmr tank #shaw pack #redacted audio #redacted headcanon #redacted fandom #redacted audio fandom #redacted audio headcanons #not canon compliant #redacted asmr #redactedverse