#headcanons galore

[katiekatdragon27]

[CW: POPCORN'S FREAKY ASS EYES]

What if there were other Eldrich horrors in the OSC world and two of them bonded into a sibling relationship?

I recently watched ITFT by myself at 2 AM. I thought it was funny, but not much after. Then a brilliant person gave me an amazing idea, and I decided to draw instead of pay attention in lecture.

Imagining these two being hypemen for each other brings me way more serotonin that I think is natural.

Headcanons and lore:

Popcorn wandered the universe alone for a long time before going to Earth and making Showvember. She found Clock just kinda sitting in the Weather Forcast place on one of her explorations and sorta adopts him?

Yeah, let's go with that lol.

They bonded fairly quickly, and when Popcorn went to Earth to start Showvember, Clock watched from the sidelines. Eventually, he asked her for advice on his own show, and that's happening rn.

Obligatory aircorn drawing my bad💀

Clock also hates most of Popcorn's partners. Popcron refuses to believe that she has a type for pathetic men. Airy grows on Clock everntually, it just takes a long time. (Clock is aroace just for clarity, and Popcorn refuses to label herself.)

Some biology and miscellaneous stuff. Clock has a metalic appearance, but they feel more like a shiny beaded beanbag than anything.

Thanks, @rainbow-wolf120, for the idea. I love these two now.

Have a good day, bros 👍

#ONCE AGAIN ADOPT ANY HEADCANONS FROM ME AS YOU WANT IDC #i love silly ass siblings who do silly ass things #i love taking all the hosts who are silly amd making them horrific god creatures its so fun #headcanons galore #hfjone #showvember #itft #its time for the #itft clock #clock #clock itft #popcorn showvember #showvember popcorn #popcorn #hfjone airy #airy #airy hfjone #hfj airy #aircorn #airy x popcorn #popcorn x ariy #itft object show #object show #object show community #osc #osc art #osc shipping #katiekatdragon27

[poepoe-thebunny]

Random Scogan Headcanons because I'm away from my laptop and can't write fics part 1:

Warning: this is all nonsense don't take it to seriously XD

1) Logan will never get over the first time Scott hustled him at pool. He will grumble about it, mostly good naturedly, every time it gets brought up while Scott smirks at him over his morning coffee.

The hustle becomes a semi regular drinking story at some point with whoever Logan happens to be drinking with, which varies by mileage and mission.

This eventually leads to someone proposing a game of pool between the two angle masters, and Logan gets to sit back and watch Scott and Captain America treat pool like a game of chess. It is the longest game of his life.

2) Scott doesn't mind eating the same thing several times in a row, especially if he's busy and something else is a priority. Which is all the time really.

After much arguing and quite a bit of forcing Scott out of his office for food, Logan managed to figure this out. They eventually reach an agreement.

On days when Scott is up late planning, he will eat whatever simplistic things Logan puts in front of him. Logan has found out that when Scott is overwhelmed, simplistic familiar food is what he has the best chance at eating. This ranges from little plates of veggies and fruits to sandwiches or bowls of oatmeal. Eating those requires the least amount of energy from Scott but at least he will eat.

The first time Logan did this he stared Scott down until Scott realized he was there. It took 15 minutes.

3) Logan is understandably weary of his feral side, and he never wants to willingly unleash it on his team mates.

That being said, Scott has discovered a feral wolverine is surprisingly cute when he doesn't think he's in danger.

Once on a joint mission with the avengers, a stone faced Cyclops had to stare down both an amused Captain America and Nick Fury on a hellicarrier, with a feral wolverine with his head on Scott's lap.

Turns out that even when Feral, Logan still doesn't like flying. Scott insists it's the easiest way to keep Logan calm.

4) This leads to an entire mini adventure in which the students, lead by rogue and Jubilee, begin getting blackmail pictures of a surprisingly docile feral wolverine. Such adventures include but are not limited to

-Feral Logan and Nightcrawler playing a game of chase, with Kurt bamfing away while laughing the entire time just to annoy him.

-Feral Logan falling asleep on the living room couch and the kids covering him in cute fluffy blankets and stuffed animals.

-Scott trying to force feral Logan to wear pants.

-Feral Logan stealing Scott's sweaters for naps

Rogue's favorite is actually a video, but she gives a picture of it to Scott and Logan.

It's the two of them, Scott and feral Logan, up late at night in the school. Wolverine with his head in Scott's lap, as Scott runs his fingers through his hair and sings to him quietly after a nightmare.

#x men #x men movies #scott summers #logan howlett #cyclops #wolverine #scogan #the avengers #but only a bit #scott/logan #headcanons #headcanons galore

[applesofdaventry]

Insert obligatory cedric hate text here.

ANYWAY: petition to make Cedric Crispin's partner. But in the sense of. Cedric likes to transform into an owl with a little vest and monocle and noodle around sometimes. And then come home in the evenings to soup and haranguing his husband about meds.

Cedric in human form as, like, a taller less curly haired aziraphale. Salt and pepper hair. Reading glasses he keeps misplacing. Small candies he pulls out from behind the ears of small humans for them to enjoy. Etc. Unfortunately not well versed on how snakes work.

#kings quest #headcanons galore #cedric #but seriously consider my image #it improves him. #somewhat #at the very least it makes me feel more emotions

[princessrosem-ry]

Peter Pan characters and who I think their godly parent would be if they were in the pjo universe (mostly) based off vibes:

-Peter: Morpheus kid, I can go into heavy detail and I will, I will go into heavy detail. I get that Hebe or Hermes probably fit better but listen, he just is, he is the Morpheus kid. I like to think the minor gods/goddesses only have 1 or 2 kids in a time period and are closer with their kids than the Olympians are, so when Morpheus had Peter he was like: "You're my baby and I love you more than anything in the world", then used his dream powers (or sm idk) to create neverland. Morpheus didn't want to watch his precious child grow old and die so he created a realm filled with all the things children typically dream about. Pirates, mermaids, fairies, a secret treehous base, adventure, fun galore. He created an island of dreams for his boy to live freely and happily in forever. But he wanted Peter to be able to make friends yk like he didn't want his son to be lonely or to get bored of Neverland, so he gave Peter the ability to visit the mainland (aka the not dream world) and save other demigod children who'd fallen out of their prams and were being chased by monsters. A short adventure in the real world where Peter could see new things/meet new people. Peter brought his new friends back to the safety of Neverland and let them stay in his treehouse with him, sharing his dreams and adventures.

-Wendy: Daughter of Themis, honestly I feel like she'd be with Hestia but since Hestia isn't really an option I'm gonna say Themis. Ik Themis is the goddess of Justice and law and that doesn't really fit Wendy but again, literally just vibes

-John: I kind of also want to say Themis for him?? But also it doesn't feel right, so I'm gonna say Athena instead. Athena kid, spiders are his unhappy thought

-Michael: Hebe 100% idk he just is or maybe Iris?

-Mr. Smee: He's also Athena there's no reasoning behind these I just feel like he is

-Captain Hook: Hermes, I kind of wanted to say Ares but I feel like Hermes fits the whole "traveling the seas, stealing, swashbuckling pirate" thing better

-The mermaids: I get they'd all be sea nymphs but if they weren't they'd all be daughters of Aphrodite.

Tink: Same with the mermaids in being a nymph of sorts, she'd also probably be Aphrodite. Either that or Hephaestus because of the tinkering an building

-Tiger Lily: Hunter of Artemis, either that or Tyche. Again no reasoning the Tyche, just vibes

-The Lost Boys: Let's be honest the Tree House is basically just a Neverland version of the Hermes Cabin so they're all Hermes by default for now, or maybe adopted children of Morpheus? Can gods adopt other gods kids?? It's Neverland bro he can do whatever he wants ig

#wendy darling #peter pan #captin hook #tinkerbell #morpheus #hermes cabin #morpheus cabin #Themis cabin #I don't really want to list out all of the godly parents so we'll stop there #Neverland #pjo #pjo cabins #pjo crossover #headcanons galore #what a lovely first post #Anyways #Uh who am I missing #tiger lily #mr. smee #the lost boys #I think that's all?? #morpheus is a doting father #According to me

[waywardstation]

Emmet Ingo and Elesa do you see my vision

#submas #nimbasa trio #<- why not #I never really put anything in the tags anymore #oops #headcanons galore #but #Emmet loves his dark chocolate bitter #Ingo likes sweeter milk chocolate #and I feel like Elesa would like white chocolate actually

[maydays-medbay]

Okay so me and @katthekatt are on a call and the dumbest but also greatest headcanon came to mind We started with me ranting and raving about how to draw Mayday's hand holding an energon cube, then moving on to MTMTE having actual glasses and not cubes, before landing on this (here us out): Legal drinking age for cybertronians. We had this thought of like, constructed cold individuals vs. naturally forged individuals and that led to a conversation about forged individuals "growing up" while constructed cold individuals are at the stage where they don't really have to do that in the same manner. So, constructed cold individuals, even right after they're forged, are able to drink. Without any legal intervention. Nat-forged individuals though? There's limits. First some kind of age limit (at least 1000 years) and then having to take a maturity test. If they fail? They have to wait another century or so before retrying the test. Once they pass, they can't lose it, but they can absolutely get the equivalent of being carded.

Like, they have to show that they passed the maturity test to prove that they can be responsible, they just choose to not act like it.

#tf headcanons #mayday #headcanons galore #katthekatt #transformers #I also thought of this a lot because of the fact that Mayday owns a bar #It would be funny to see him have to go through the process of checking if they can legally drink or not XD #this toes the line of crack territory but like I could see it being an in-universe thing

[pengumi12]

The Elvenking

#headcanons galore #he looks too young woops #gil's art #the hobbit #thranduil #the elvenking

[twilighthiro]

“If there is no King, why do you call Kaeya a prince?”

“A King has a realm.” the soldiers reverently whisper. “A King is strong and wise, and cannot make mistakes without severe consequence upon his people.”

They glance at Kaeya for a moment, their faces softening.

“A prince has no realm. A prince is weak and ignorant. He can make mistakes without endangering his people, and thus gain wisdom.”

“That is why he is our Chosen Prince, and not our Chosen King.”

#headcanons galore #khaenri'ah #genshin impact #writings #spirit of sunrise

[fromthedeskoftheminister]

Aimless in the Starlight

Summary: They say curiosity drives people. And that drive starts with trying to figure out what you don’t know. But when you don’t know what you don’t know, much less the things you know you’re supposed to know everything ends up a bit of a muddled mess. Read it on Ao3! Vaugely Beta’d by the marvelous OceanstoForests!

                                                               ****

“There’s…”  Voices were talking, people were nearby but the blackness was all consuming and comfortable.  It was so easy to ignore them and slip back into it.  A slightly disjointed and gradually increasing pounding noise made it impossible to remain there for long.  The voices were closer now, an indecipherable murmur before the word „Ceepeaer?“ came through. 

No, that wasn’t needed whatever it was. What was needed was the darkness and it was a struggle to stay in its safety. And then there was pressure, lightly as if searching for something, and a different voice saying "Pulse is there, but slow. Still not breathing?"

Oh. Breathing. That was supposed to be happening. Probably. People were more comfortable if one was breathing. But if breathing was happening then the comforting darkness would go. More hands, slight movement, and then sudden heavy pressure. It relented but not for long. It was there again, then it backed off once more, then again, and again and then the choice was taken as a sudden forced influx of air kick started that whole breathing process, catapulting him out of the darkness.

He shot upright, not acknowledging his near collision with the two voices as everything flooded in, assaulting him with a cacophony of sensations. He was aware of everything from the recycled and stale air to the bright florescent lights catching and throwing little daggers into his eyes before he had closed them. Adding to the overwhelming assult was the ever present and inescapable low thrum that he could both feel and hear sitting on the metal grate as he was. He cracked his eyes open just a sliver, registering only the colors of pink and jade before squeezing his eyes closed once more. He couldn’t even look at them. It was all too much and he went back to trying to ignore all of the everything that was happening but it was futile. A deep breath caused something in his chest to spasm and he lurched forward, hunching over himself and coughing up a storm as his lungs tried to vacate his body.

Despite the suddenness of his movements, the voices apparently didn’t think of him as much of a threat, which was a thought that made no sense, why would he be a threat, for there were cool gentle hands on him, encouraging him to stop curling in over himself with a soft “Nonono, don't hunch over, that won’t help. They really don't sound good, Dan Heng. Are you sure you did it right?“ While another set of hands braced him slightly and rubbed soothing circles into his back.

A quiet mhm came from behind him, Dan Heng must be the soothing circles, as he tried to reassure this pair of people that he was in fact fine before another bout of coughing overtook him. The voice from before returned. “Seriously, ok, try to match my breathing, it’ll be ok.“ A hand moved his from the floor to something warm, someone's chest maybe, and it continued “In, two, three, four. Out, two, three, four. In, two, three, four, Out, two, three, four.” 

He couldn’t say how long it took him to recover his breathing, everything felt heavy and slow but they stayed with him as it calmed down and the sensations became more manageable. He tugged lightly, and the hand holding his released and he took another deep breath. Still not looking at anything he pulled himself to his feet with minor assistance from whoever it was beside him. “Thanks” he said, or tried to, but all that came out was a rusty sounding croak. He winced and looked sheepishly at the pair who had sat with him.

“Cat got your tongue?” Pink asked, lightly teasing and his eyes were drawn directly to the pink and blue bedecked person before him, “Or is my cuteness so great that you’ve forgotten how to speak?”

A heavy sigh came from beside him and he turned ever so slightly as Jade, Dan Heng maybe?, passed him something cool. He stared down at the strange container of clear liquid in his hands in mild confusion. What exactly was he supposed to do with this? His confusion was apparently rather evident as a hand reached over and twisted the narrow top which came off easily. “Stop pestering people about your “cuteness” March, much less when they’ve just regained consciousness.” Grey eyes met blue and Jade gestured to the container. “You should probably drink that. It’ll help.”

Right. Yes. Drinking liquid. He nodded and raised the container to his mouth. He’s not entirely sure what drinking entails exactly but his body apparently does and he manages to take a small sip with little difficulty. The liquid is cool and to his surprise it has some sort of taste, but a very mild one that he wouldn’t be able to describe at all. Jade isn’t wrong either. It does help, his throat feels much better  after clearing it once he's actually able to get out comprehensible words “Thanks.”

“There we go!” Pink cheers. “Right ok, you were unconscious. We should check that everything’s all right then! How’re you feeling?”

“Sore.” He says simply, taking another small sip before gesturing to his chest and head.

“Makes sense, makes sense." Pink, March he corrects himself, says peering up at him "Your pupils seem normal, so I don't think you're concussed but just to be sure, do you know where you are?”

He's in a room? Somewhere? No, that's probably not what the question asking. It’s kind of obvious that he's in a room given that the other two here too. They probably want something more specific, like where the room is. Does he know where the room is? He frowns slightly as he ponders that. No he doesn't think that he knows where this room is. And... that's… probably not normal? Based on how the question was asked, he should definitely know where this room is. But the more he thinks about it the more he realizes that he doesn't remember where he is. In fact he doesn't seem to remember much of anything at all. The... only thing he can remember with any sort of concrete accuracy if he can even call it that given how hazy the memory is, is a vague conversation with a pair of women, one of whom he knows. He's not entirely sure of that given that he cant remember anything else about her or even her name before everything sharpens and the one that he knows tells him to listen. There's more to the memory than that, he's sure of it, but that's for later because he's found the important part. He does in fact know where he is. Sort of. “A… space station?” He offers hesitantly.

The pair exchange an undecipherable look. "Well, you're not wrong." March says "D'ya know the name of the station?"

He blinks. "No? Should I?"  

"Well, yeah!“ March says "More importantly, do you know your name?" 

Ah. His name. Hm. Yes. Sure he can tell them his name. Because he has one of those. Does he have one of those? He should right? People have names. The silence stretches and he can see the worry growing the longer he doesn't give an answer and finally he sighs. If he has or has ever had a name, its not something that hes currently aware of. "Its... I think..." he sighs "I don't remember it. I don't remember much of anything at all, actually."

"Nothing?" March pouts up at him "C'mon, can't you try a little harder? For me?"

He doesn't bother to try to fight the slight smirk that he can feel forming on his face. "Oh well, if its for you, absolutely." He's joking mostly, but with nothing to lose does in fact give it another shot. Still, nothing new is forthcoming and his smirk falls and he shakes his head. "Sorry, I've got nothing."

"Ah well, no worries!" March says with a cheerful shrug. "If you don’t know who you are, I’m sure we'll be able to find you in the staff directory or guestbook! We just gotta check them!“  

"Medical first." Jade, no Dan Heng, says, though they’re not looking at either of them. "We should have someone from medical take a look at you first."  Their attention is on the hallway and room beyond, hand gripping, is that a staff? No, Dan Heng is holding a spear, though he doesn't remember seeing it a moment ago.

"Ooooh Yeah! Medical first." March agrees cheerfully.

"Regardless, its nice to meet you though the circumstances could be better." The other continues, turning back. "I'm Dan Heng, and that's March 7th. Are you feeling steady on your feet? We should probably get moving."

He nods. "Its nice to meet you too. I…" he pauses to take stock of himself. Nothing feels off outside of his aforementioned soreness. "I feel mostly fine. Where are we going?"

"The master control zone. Everyone else has evacuated there already. Lead Researcher Asta asked us to check for stragglers and people who might be trapped by the Anitmatter Legion."

"Ah." There was a pause as he digested that information fiddling with the lid to the partially empty container in his hands.  "Wait, who's Lead Researcher Asta?"

"Only the super cutest researcher in charge of this space station." March answered, as a crystalline arch started forming between her hands. "Actually, she might know who you are! She knows everyone here."

"Oh. You really think she'll know who I am?"

"Well, I sure hope so, It's kinda hard to be in charge if you don't know your employees after all."

He blinks as he thinks over that. "I work here?"

March stares back at him. "Don't you?"

He exchanges a startled look with Dan Heng who sighs. "March, he doesn't remember anything, how exactly is he supposed to answer that?"

"In that case, I definitely hope Asta knows who you are because if she doesn't then we've got bigger problems."

"I think we have bigger problems already" Dan Heng said as a muffled boom echos from somewhere outside of the room. He pulls a palm sized rectangle out of a pocket, checking it for something. "March, can you escort him there? Arlan's still out of contact, I'm going to go look for him."

"No problem!" March grins, and Dan Heng meets her eyes, nods once and strides off without another word, rounding a corner. A soft hiss echoes through the room and the sound of explosions and fighting grows louder for a couple of moments before the same hissing noise cuts it off again. 

„Geeze, that guy. C'mon Nameless Stranger,“ she says with a slight snicker "Lets give him a minute to clear part of the path then get you to safety."

"Nameless Stranger?" he asks

"Well, I have to call you something" She retorts and he nods. That's fair enough he supposes, as they round the corner into the next room themselves.

"Why is it funny?“ he asks absently as he finally figures out how to reseal the liquid container.

He can hear March's grin. "Because I‘m a Nameless Stranger too!“

That... doesn't make any sense and his head snaps up to stare at the other. Grey eyes meet pink and blue, searching for something. There’s a joke there he thinks, but he can’t figure out what it’s supposed to be. The longer he thinks about it the more confused he gets. "I thought your name was March?“

"Yep!" She responds cheerfully. "March 7th, She/hers!"

"Then… how are you nameless?“

Her smile softens slightly and he’s not entirely sure what to do with the sympathy or the sudden understanding that he finds in her expression. "It’s a joke, that I’ll have to explain later. Or make Dan Heng explain. He’ll do a better job of it.“ She falls silent for a moment. "Really nothing at all?“

He shrugs, suddenly uncomfortable with everything and returns to fidgeting with the container in his hands. The liquid inside shifts as he rotates it, changing the balance and he plays with the shifting weight for a few moments. The silence grows and he can’t stand it. "What are these things?" he asks, gesturing to the various pedestals scattered across the room. Some are shattered or destroyed, their contents strewn across the floor. Just enough of them are intact that he can tell they’re supposed to be displays of some sort. None of them are familiar, but he keeps looking, hoping that one of them may be.

"Madame Herta's collection of Curios." March replies, "No idea why she keeps them all, they're just collecting dust here, but I'm no genius so what do I know?"

"Who's Madame Herta?"

"The woman who owns this station" March says, glancing at something on her wrist. "Ready to go? I think we‘ve given Dan Heng enough time“

"Sure" He responds, his empty hand finding a pocket as they move through the room. Fingers touch a rounded metal corner and he pauses. What is... its the work of a moment to pull the strange rectangle out of his pocket. Its very similar to Dan Heng's device, but that still doesn't mean anything to him.

"Everything ok?" March asks, and he realizes that hes stopped moving.

"Uh, March? What is this?" he asks, holding the thing out to her.

She gasps. "You have a communicator?"

"I... guess? It was in my pocket."

"No no, that's perfect! Turn it on! It probably has some information on it! It might even tell us who you are!"

Well all right then. He glances down at the little rectangle with a newfound curiosity. "How?"

"Just, tap the screen!" She says wandering back over to peer at it with him.

"Like this?" He does as instructed, and to his surprise it works, a small white dot appearing on one side. They wait, and it clears up slightly forming a sharp looking and stylized four legged creature that runs across the screen. A trail of white and purple dots are left behind and eventually they stretch forming a two toned line. The creature clears the screen and moments later the line flares. He looks at the screen in puzzlement as he tries to figure out what exactly this is but once again, nothing. The boxes mean nothing to him at all. But apparently they mean something to March.

"That's the cutest start up I've ever seen. I have got to figure out how to make mine a cute little puppy. Can I?" She asks, pointing at the screen. He nods, holding it out slightly, but to his surprise she doesn't actually take the device. Instead, she pulls his hand down slightly so that she can see better and pokes a small box with a black circle on it. A empty white window pops up and she frowns. "Well, no photos at all, so that doesn’t help, but..." she says, flicking the white window away and poking another little picture. This time she lets out a little cheer "There we go! I found it!“

"Found what?"

"Well, all communicators are registered to individuals. And this one is registered! And that looks just like you, so its gotta be yours right? Its nice to meet you Caelus!"

He blinks and looks down at where March is pointing. Caelus. That... feels right and he doesn't try to stop the smile from forming on his face. "It's nice to meet you too March 7th."

He doesn't know how long they stand there grinning at each other like idiots but a soft hiss has the both of them looking up and Caelus blinks in surprise as a hexagonal panel that he thought was part of the wall slides away revealing a black and wispy figure bedecked in armor and oversized arm blades. March’s expression turns serious and he can see her gaze sharpen. "Caelus, DUCK!" she says suddenly, darting around him, snapping her fingers as a blue shimmer covers her. The sudden change in demeanor is startling and before he's registered exactly whats going on hes on the floor watching as March raises the crystal arch that she’s been holding. Light glimmers connecting the two ends and a glittering pink arrow forms in her hand as she draws the bow back, letting the arrow fly. Something behind him screeches and the next thing knows, March is in front of him offering her hand. "So we may have given Dan Heng too much time. C'mon, we gotta go."

He nods, and takes her hand as she helps him up, but her back is to the open hexagon and he can see what she can’t as the body she just caused dissipates into black mist. Which, he will be thinking about later when he has more time because that does not seem normal to him at all. Not that he knows what normal is at all. A pair of floating orbs of energy with three weird flanges block the passage. One is generating a smaller ball of something and before he can think about it, he moves, using March’s assistance to lunge forwards. He’s not really thinking at all as the container in his hand goes flying, nailing the energy generating orb disrupting whatever it was doing, shattering and spilling liquid everywhere. His hands brush the floor, grabbing something sturdy with a decent weight, and he swings with all his might, hitting the first orb into the second with a solid smack. It falls to the ground after hitting its fellow, the shell shattering as the energy inside starts to dissipate . A shower of pink sparkles takes care of the second orb, apparently evaporating it and he turns to see March lowering her bow.

"Wow!“ she exclaims, glancing at the stick he’s holding. "You’re pretty good with that curio. We‘ll have to ask forgiveness later for using it. I think we‘re gonna have to fight our way out.“ 

He nods silently, trying to catch his breath. Just... what was that? He has no answers but running his hands over the strange stick is rather grounding. It fits comfortably in his hands, almost as if it was made for him. He watches with moderate curiosity as the etchings he can feel light up chasing his fingertips as he traces them. A small tapping noise grabs his attention and he glances over to see March only slightly impatiently giving him a moment. Right. Theyre in danger. "Sorry." He offers, taking another deep breath and standing up straight. "I’m ready now. Lay on MacDuff“

March turns to go, then glances back at him "What?“

He shrugs, no longer in the mood for talking. Hes not entirely sure where that came from or what exactly it meant either.

She grins not at all put off by his sudden silence. "Another mystery, then. Don’t worry Caelus, we‘ll figure it out“

Her promise fills something inside of him. Yes, he promises himself, we will.

#honkai star rail #hsr fanfic #caelus #dan heng #march 7th #my writing #crossposted to ao3 #scene rewrite #herta space station #headcanons galore #including but not really mentioned #trans march 7th #non human caelus #amnesia buddies #caelus doesnt know what so many different things are which is gonna be funny as hell hopefully #and now we return to your regularly scheduled content warnings #amnesia #canon typical violence #And now for something completely different: a disclaimer #the characters depicted here belong to the creative team over at hoyoverse #im simply playing with them for my and hopefully your amusement

[ribbondee]

Shadows Of The Past, a PMATGA Fic

Minor trigger warning for mentions of violence and bloodshed. Gonna put both chapters in this post cuz why not.

Ch. 1

Sir C was seated at his work desk, but wasn’t doing any work at the moment. He was too busy staring at what used to be his hand. A prosthetic was in its place, but it wasn’t all bad. It truly was a nifty little thing, being equipped with all sorts of useful tools.

It had been an average sort of day, Pac and the gang came and tested some of his inventions, and Grinder had an attitude as usual. Other than that things went pretty smoothly, and they were able to celebrate without issue.

Indepacdence Day was upon him. The day the war ended, and the rest of the world rejoiced. The day Betrayus and his forces were defeated, and everything everywhere was saved.

But for certain individuals, it wasn't such a happy day to celebrate in spite of the fact that they too joined in the festivities. For Stratos it was apparently the worst day of his life. It was then when it truly came to light that he did indeed care about his little brother, and being forced to banish his soul hurt a lot.

As for Sir C (or Mr C, since he hadn’t been knighted yet back then), he was a mess after the war to put it lightly. The nightmares began to appear, as did the panic attacks and flashbacks. But that wasn’t the part that bothered him- it was… the incident.

He let out a soft grunt, clenching his fake hand tightly. He jumped a little at the sound of beeping behind him. “Wuh- oh. I’m fine, Grinder. Now mosey along.” His words did nothing to comfort the poor robot, but they did continue on their way regardless.

Three words… three little words… that was all it took for his enemy to say for Sir C to let his guard down. How could he have been such a fool? That was all it took to give that buttheaded egomaniac an opportunity to strike, and he had lost his hand in the process in less than a second. He recalled the physical and emotional pain, and Buttocks’ awful laughter. He felt hurt, he felt scared, he felt… betrayed.

Blood had gushed out of the wound like a fountain, and had Stratos not been there he would have certainly died.

Did their past mean nothing to him?! All the good times he and Buttocks had together, did that not even cross their mind?!

Sir C bared his teeth a little, unclenching his mechanical fist. He remembered how badly the war left him, how unbearable the pain was. He was desperate to let go, or better yet forget.

He leaned back in his chair and shut his eyes as he recalled all this. In a drawer on the work desk was an older invention of his own design… a ray of sorts. Not a shrink ray or vice versa, and certainly not a death ray. It was… a memory wiper.

It would be a lie to say he wasn’t ashamed of inventing that damn thing. But, he had been ever so desperate to forget his pain, and the fact that he even knew Buttocks to begin with. It didn’t work- at least, not in the way he wanted it to. He tried over and over again to get rid of the painful memories, but something just kept it from working. His mind always assumed the device was faulty, but his heart said something else…

“You still care about him that much, it kept it from working.”, it would say.

Eventually overexposure to the device caused his present day memory issues, which was a huge slap to the face.

For some reason he kept the memory wiping gun around, possibly as a reminder to never do something like that again.

All these thoughts were fresh in his mind, and he squeezed his eyes shut even tighter. Why? Why did things between them have to go south so far?! Oh. Right. They were going to “change the world together”. What Sir C had in mind was something beneficial, while Buttocks wanted to pursue his own twisted form of justice.

Sir C’s scowl deepened, a stark contrast to his usual jolly self.

Those three words… the three little words Buttocks had said. The three words Sir C would have given anything to hear out of the other’s mouth once more under the right circumstances…

“Ich liebe dich.”

Ch. 2

Pac World University… the most prestigious college in all of Pac World… so this is what it was like. So huge, so grand, so… intimidating.

He stood in front of the campus, and was shaking like a leaf. The sheer hugeness of it all made him feel so puny; it was like it wanted to swallow him whole. But, that wasn’t gonna stop him from going in and pursuing his dream- being an inventor to make lives better for Pac Worlders around the globe.

His grip on his suitcases tightened, and he made his way towards the dorms…

He got to the room he was assigned to, and he could faintly hear shuffling from the other side of the door. Looked like his roommate was already there. He knocked on the door. “Come in”, came a muffled yet nasally voice.

He obliged, and shut the door behind him. Inside the room with him was a sky blue Pac Worlder, and their back was turned to him. “Um hi”, he said nervously. The other snorted curtly. “Just get your stuff unpacked.”

Wow, rude. They also had a strong accent- he could only assume they were from Pacmany. “My name is-”

“I said unpack. I don’t vant to talk right now.”

He DID have quite a bit to unpack, so he figured he’d go ahead and do it. Clothing items, lab equipment, personal items… yep. He did it silently as did the other person, and oddly enough they seemed to finish at the same time.

“Diamitri Cumference.”

“Huh?”

“That’s my name. What’s yours?”

“...”

“Well?”

“Buttocks Hineyhead”, they said with hesitation. Clearly they hated having to say that, and it was obvious why.

They turned to look at Diamitri, and they finally got a good look at each other. Buttocks was a bit short, and had hair that stuck out wildly at the sides of his head as well as a mustache. He was a bit wall-eyed, his eyes being covered by red framed glasses. But that wasn’t what caught Diamitri’s attention- it was the other person’s forehead. Buttocks noticed him staring and narrowed his eyes. “Don’t you dare laugh.”

“Why would I”, Diamitri said sincerely, “that’d be pretty rude.”

Buttocks was a bit surprised, yet seemed relieved. “It’s just zat… everyvun else does.”

“Sorry to hear that…” Buttocks shrugged.

“Vatever.”

A few awkward moments passed. “I’m a mechanical engineering major”, said Diamitri in an attempt to start a conversation.

“Hmph, so am I.”

Well, at least they had one thing in common.

“I’m gonna invent all sorts of things and change the world!” Buttocks narrowed his eyes once again. “Is zat right?”

“Yup! Wanna see some of my schematics?”

“If you’ll look at mine.”

“It’s a deal!”

The boys would then spend several hours viewing and analyzing each other’s invention ideas, for better or for worse.

“This robot’s name will be Grinder”, said Diamitri as he pointed at the blueprints, “he will be my lab assistant!”

“I see. Zis is something I’ve been hoping to vork on…”

They continued to share invention ideas, both of them actually having a blast. By the time they finished it was starting to get dark.

They were both exhausted, yet satisfied. “Your inventions are neat”, said Diamitri. Buttocks flushed a little, clearly not used to receiving praise. “Let’s be friends”, Diamitri continued, extending his hand for a handshake. Buttocks seemed taken aback by this. Buttocks looked like he was about to take it, then stopped.

“Somethin’ the matter?”

“I’m… not… used to having any friends.”

“Well then lemme be your first one! It’ll be great! Come on… let’s change the world together.”

“If you say so?”

Buttocks took Diamitri’s hand and shook it.

#pmatga #pacman and the ghostly adventures #fanfiction #headcanons galore #sad #sir cumference #dr buttocks #ich liebe dich means I love you in German

[shalalalalaw]

All that i need is an honest friend [T]

Tevis Larsen & Tallulah Fairwind & Caliban-8

And it feels good. To have someone at his back that gives a fuck.

Or, how Tevis met Tallulah and Caliban.

#destiny #d2 fic #nana writes #tevis larsen #tallulah fairwind #cailban 8 #headcanons galore #enjoy hunter shenanigans

[broken-balance-baby]

mature for his age

AO3 mirror

summary:

“Do you also have voices in your head telling you to kill yourself?”

Santa Sofia stopped doing the dishes, eyes wide and unable to say anything. She turned her head to him as he was sat on the kitchen counter, squinting.

“Diego, you’re weird.”

mature for his age

They usually have a smoke in the backs of the mansion. She didn’t realize how quiet the night would be, but it felt like she was on vacation with the peace the rest of the househelp was enjoying with. Living on the little island wasn’t so bad, not with living with the other maids and servants who bonded in the backs of the mansion. Just right when the lions would sleep at night.

Or, Castillos, rather.

Santa Sofia would think it’s funny that Señor Castillo called himself that, if he wasn’t so serious about being one. Alongside his son, Diego, the boy seemed more like a lone wolf pup considering how he lacked any friends his own age.

As the floor-based poker game went on with the maids and servants (Miguel, Imelda, Fernanda and Jorge) Santa Sofia watched, occasionally looking into her phone and wondering when she’d get a reply from her husband on updates about Isabel. Staring at the cards, unfocused and yet somehow concentrated, it took a hold to her shoulder to get her to jump away from the sight and into the eyes of the culprit.

“Ey!” The boy grinned, voice low in an almost-whisper, useless in volume considering the subtleties were already through the staff’s concentrated poker game.

“Eyyy, it’s leonito!” Miguel chimed, throwing down a card that had to restrain Fernanda from throwing a fit. She threw her cards at his face and he laughed.

“Did you get down from the window again?” Santa Sofia asked. Diego grinned sheepishly. He wore his beloved blue hoodie along with his favorite Maximas shirt, and he’d of course worn his ripped jeans just to go with it. By the skin of his knees, there lay several scars from the way he’d scrape them from one of his many escapes.

“Si. You did not hear me this time!” Diego said, confident. Santa Sofia shook her head.

“I swear, Diego, you’re lucky the guards are on break.” She said.

“Why’re you all dressed up, Diego?” Miguel asked, lighting up a cigarette. Diego’s hands balled up in his pockets as he looked at them with the eyes. The eyes, specifically because he always had this look whenever he’d ask for a favor.

“Oh no, everyone look away,” Jorge warned, “he’s about to ask a favor!”

“No, I swear it’s a good one!” Diego protested, laugh breaking his speech as everyone looked away in unison. He took Santa Sofia by the sleeve and said: “I’ll take you guys to the baseball game with me.”

“Ay, dios mio, Diego, you’ll get us crucified!” Imelda said exasperatedly.

“No, no, no, we also have a proposition in our hands!” Diego said, raising his hands in emphasis. “I pay.”

The staff groaned.

“What? What?!” Diego cried out.

“Every time you say you’d pay is also the time your things magically get lost, Diego.” Miguel said.

“I promise I have it secured on me. Look at my belt!” Diego said, raising up his shirt to reveal a chain on his belt— he made that one himself, Santa Sofia remembered. It looped into the inside of his jeans and he pulled it out to reveal one corner of the wallet had a hole to loop the chain with. Diego looked at them all with a grin, and Fernanda put on her thinking face.

“I think some of us will have to stay.” She declared. “We can’t let them know everybody left.”

Diego’s face fell.

“I can go.” Santa Sofia said.

Diego smiled.

“I need something that isn’t sand in my life, so I’ll go also.” Jorge said, getting up and stretching. “Who’s manning the boat?”

“I will!” Diego chimed.

“Last time you did that, the boat ended up on a highway!”

“But we lived, no?” Diego said. “The destination is more important than the journey!”

“Is it not the other way around?” Fernanda asked.

“Not to me.” Diego answered, already making his way out. “Andale, guys!”

—

“Smoking is bad for you, you know.” Santa Sofia said, folding up the blankets the next day. They came home late— Diego finally had the opportunity to treat Santa Sofia and Jorge (and the man was enthusiastic about it that he made a call just to rub it in the others’ faces). Now, Diego had bags under his eyes for getting a half-assed amount of sleep, half-paying attention to his teacher on the other end of the call for a class, and half-smoking out of his vape (“It’s vaping, Santa Sofia!”) with boredom and exhaustion.

“I know.” Diego shrugged, “But I am also not my papa.”

“One flick of a cigarette his way and he’ll dissolve.” Santa Sofia commented. Diego laughed at that, then proceeded to cough in between it.

“It’s not that funny, Diego.” Santa Sofia said.

“I know— but imagine if he explodes!” Diego exclaimed.

There was a pause, and Diego broke out laughing again. Footsteps were heard just outside of Diego’s room and the boy quickly grabbed a bottle of baby powder on his desk— (why did he even have that— oh.)

And soon, the vape fog was replaced with baby powder on the floor while Anton came to check up on him.

“Mijo, what are you doing with the powder?” Anton asked.

“Nothing, papa.” Diego said. It was as if a switch had been turned on, looking timid to his own father. “I just spilled some while trying to get it on my arms!”

Anton stared at him for a moment, then looked back at Santa Sofia who continued to work on the blankets to stow away.

“Clean that up.” Anton told her, then left the door open.

“Papa, close the door!” Diego called out.

Anton did not close the door. The smell of sweet watermelon had invaded the premise and was threatening to leave the proximity, and thank god almighty Santa Sofia got the door to shut on her way out.

—

Diego always helped out in the kitchen. Besides having to hotbox the place sometimes, he often got involved with whatever the staff was up to and one of them was hanging out as he cooked, sliced or baked with Imelda and Jorge.

Santa Sofia was on her phone until Diego reached out to her sleeve and held the spoon in front of her.

“Try some?” Diego asked. The soup he helped cook smelled great— salty, creamy, with a light seasoning of thyme, so Santa Sofia sipped it from the end and Diego waited for her response.

“Good!” Santa Sofia declared. Diego chuckled, raising his thumb at Imelda.

“Diego? Diegooo,” Tita Teresa came in, looking for him in the midst of the kitchen. His niñera finally found him, hair tied up and with an apron strapped on. “There you are!”

“Tita Teresa!” Diego said, “Try the soup we made!”

“You’re cooking with them again?” She asked. “Come on, your papa is calling for you to sit down.”

“Tell him I am cooking dinner. With credit to Imelda and Jorge.” Diego said, matter-of-factly. “Try the soup?”

“No, it’s fine.” Tita Teresa said. Diego pouted as she left the kitchen, but his mood came back around as soon as he got back to adding more to the soup.

—

Santa Sofia finally witnessed Diego roll out of his window and fall directly into the bushes. He’d come out with mild cuts and leaves on his clothes, but he would be fine, otherwise, somehow.

“Que bola?” Diego said, rising out of the bush. Santa Sofia fondly shook her head.

“How are your bones not broken after falling down like that?”

“My bones are special, Santa Sofia.” He made a motion that made him imitate a lion, “Leon, remember? Grr.”

She rolled her eyes. She held his hand on the way back to the group, and as soon as Diego cracked another joke about how his dad was going bald, they laughed.

“It’s a wig, I swear!” Imelda said.

“What kind of wig looks like thin hair?!” Diego cried out through his laughter.

“Idiota, obviously, from the halloween shops!”

“I think one of you will have to donate to make his hair someday.” Diego said. Imelda shook her head.

“I would rather be kicked by that zebra of yours than give up my hair!”

“And inhale that viviro shit.” Fernanda replied.

“We’re already growing bald, chico.” Jorge wrapped his arm around Miguel.

“That leaves…” Diego looked at Santa Sofia.

“What? No!”

“Your hair is HUGE, Santa Sofia!” Diego said, “Why not donate some for when papa looses his hair?”

“Diego, your papa will die from overheating if he ever tries my hair.” Santa Sofia said.

“What’s a lion without his mane, Santa Sofia?” Fernanda asked.

“My mane, is reserved only for me and my daughter.” Santa Sofia folded her arms.

“Do you remember when my hair used to be like that?” Diego asked.

“Yes, and then you started balding at 10.” Jorge said.

“What?!” Diego’s eyes widened. “No!”

“Wait, that was not true?” Miguel asked.

“No! I have straight hair now, my papa had it relaxed!” Diego said. “Where did you hear that?”

“Madrugadan Society.” Jorge said with a shrug.

“That’s a tabloid magazine!” Diego cried out. “I’m too young to be bald!”

“Not too young to start smoking, though.” Santa Sofia said. Diego made a pout.

—

He had a switch on him that was highly unsubtle. Whenever he dressed in his red and white polo, white dress pants and fancy leather shoes, he was as unhappy as can be.

Santa Sofia knew his favorite color— everything in his room was blue, from his figurines, to his PC case, to the LED lights he hung up himself; something that Anton opposed to considering how the man had fancied red the most.

One afternoon when Anton wasn’t home, he sat on the rooftop where Santa Sofia followed suit.

“You know, I really like the sea.” Diego said. “It’s so… blue.”

“I had a feeling you would say that.” Santa Sofia said.

“Yeah.” He took out his vape.

“Put that down.”

“Are you my mama?” Diego asked, keeping eye contact as he pushed the elf bar to his mouth.

“Don’t do that.” Santa Sofia reeled in disgust.

Diego snorted. The elf bar lit up in blue as he ripped a fat one.

—

“Do you also have voices in your head telling you to kill yourself?”

Santa Sofia stopped doing the dishes, eyes wide and unable to say anything. She turned her head to him as he was sat on the kitchen counter, squinting.

“Diego, you’re weird.”

“What? I cannot be the only one!” Diego protested. “Besides, that would be a sad way to die.”

“How would you wanna die?”

“In an explosion, maybe after I do shit like John Wick.”

“John Wick?”

Diego’s eyes widened. “You don’t know John Wick?!”

“No.”

“We have to get everyone to watch it!” Diego hopped off the counter. “Later, tonight?”

“We all go into your room?” Santa Sofia asked. There were stars in Diego’s eyes.

“Yes!”

—

Diego was about to fall asleep once the third movie rolled in.

“I thought you were good at staying up late, leonito.” Fernanda pointed out.

“It’s 3 am, Fernanda.” Diego groaned. He tried to reach for his elf bar and Santa Sofia slipped it out of his hands.

“That’s enough for today, yes?” Santa Sofia said, putting it on his desk. Diego was seated at the edge of the bed while the others chilled out on the couches. The big screen was in the wall’s middle, playing the movie.

“It’s your birthday in a few dayssss,” Imelda chimed. Santa Sofia hugged him.

“How do you feel?” Santa Sofia asked.

“I feel like you have to leave when the credits open.” Diego said, leaning against her shoulder.

“Lie down on the bed.” Santa Sofia said, pulling him up. Diego was getting taller, and with the way things were going for him he would become stronger eventually. Santa Sofia helped him lie down on the bed, and soon everyone was going back to the staff bedroom as Diego pulled up his blanket. For a second, he finally looked his age.

She shut the lights on the way out.

#wrt.txt #far cry 6 #diego castillo #headcanons galore #woe #headcanons upon ye

[trackerkitsune]

AO3 Link: here

Title: Born of Fire

Rating: General

Characters: Oschon, Byregot, Nald'thal

Prompt: The Twelve

Summary: The Encyclopedia Eorzea contains an entry detailing The Twelve. But before they were Twelve, they were Eleven and two of them were in a bitter feud. Oschon finds a solution.

(Heavy spoilers for Myths of the Realm.)

They were The Eleven, once. Up until the First Calamity. The Matron and the Fury descended into a full blown fight against each other as Nophica's creations died, vicious words and blows being traded between the two goddesses any time they were in the same space.

Something needed to give.

Oschon went to Byregot over the matter first. "I need you to forge and carve something for me," he requested, and the Builder was instantly interested. The Wanderer was the most eccentric of them, but when he had a plan it invariably succeeded.

"Of course. What do you need?" Byregot smiled wide and took up his tools. Oschon shared a private smile with him.

"A hollow body of gold and stone," he explained quietly, "sized the same as one of us…" he went on to explain the minutiae of his thoughts, the Builder giving his thoughts on necessary elements; eventually, they agreed upon a design, and Byregot set to work.

"You are sure this will stop Nophica and Halone's fighting?" He asked, watching the Wanderer walk away from the mould.

"It will," Oschon assured.

"Dare I ask where you're going?"

"Oh, not very far," the Wanderer's reply was airy and unconcerned. "I just have a hankering for grapes." Byregot sighed and shook his head. What went on in Oschon's head, he never understood, but if his plan would indeed stop the two goddesses then he would assist in any way he could.

Even if it involved creating some form of doll-like creature.

It was months later that the hollow body was formed to the Builder's exacting standards, and Oschon reappeared looking like he'd been in a warzone. The Wanderer was exuberant for once, looking over their creation with eager eyes and hands. It was a plain looking golden doll, to all intents and purposes; smooth all over, with no flourishes or embellishments. A blank stone face had been fitted to its head, exquisitely and delicately carved.

"As always, Byregot, a compliment to your work. This is perfect!" He rubbed his hands together gleefully, lifting the hollow doll-like body into his arms and wrapping it in a long robe.

"Where are you taking that, Oschon?" The lightning aspected god asked, concerned, and the Wanderer smiled harmlessly to him.

"You'll find out once I come back, unless you wish to accompany me." Byregot shook his head.

"Not in the middle of a Calamity, my friend. The aether of the star is unstable as it is; I would prefer to not risk a disguise being seen through. I shall observe from one of Thaliak's pools."

Oschon shrugged, lifting his burden a little higher into his arms so he could tuck its legs more securely against himself.

"As you wish," he dismissed, "I must get going, though; I have a deadline to meet right now." He was gone before Byregot could question what the deadline was, exactly, and the Builder simply took himself off to one of Thaliak's many pools to try and find the unpredictable Wanderer.

The deity in question soon materialised on a newly forming island, crouching down to drag a hand through fertile ash and volcanic soil.

"Yes, this will be perfect for you," he murmured to himself, setting to work and filling the hollow cavities inside the doll with the soil and ash. "Ground newly born with the greatest potential for life," he muttered to himself, huffing as he lifted the much heavier form again and climbed up to the crater.

A roiling lake of molten magma greeted him - the heat was incredible even for a god - and he hissed in discomfort as the gold of the doll's form began to heat up. "And a deadly force of nature that none can truly stop." He smiled grimly, knowing Byregot was watching, and threw the doll into the magma with a shout of effort. It sank quickly into the lake, catching fire as it went.

Byregot was instantly beside him, grabbing him by his cloak.

"What are you doing?! That was months of work for both of us, and it is completely wasted now!" He boomed out. "It will melt and there will be nothing left!" Oschon laughed, brushing off his hands, and walked down the slope a bit to escape the punishing heat.

"Not necessarily," he called over his shoulder. "Come and wait a while, my friend. You may be surprised."

"I think not!" The Builder refused, angry with the other god. Lightning sparked over the ground; some of it hit the magma, unseen by Byregot. "You said this would stop their fighting, and now you have destroyed it along with hours and hours of work. I am going back to my spire."

The Wanderer smiled at the empty space where he had stood, covered in glass now, and leaned back to wait.

"Take your time," he murmured into the air. There was an air of anticipation, of something slowly awakening where it had been sleeping before. "Wake at your own pace."

A week later, the volcano exploded.

The crater was ripped open with a blast of power from inside its chamber, ash and lava raining down. Oschon had already moved out of the blast zone, spotting a flash of bright purple in the ash plume. A harsh motion of something from within the cloud made him narrow his eyes; the ash was forced away, and he laid eyes on what had become of the doll.

Its arms and legs were far more ornate, that he could tell even from this distance. It had wings now, too; formed and moulded by the consciousness that now resided inside it. Oschon dared to venture closer. The entity immediately noticed him, fingers flexing dangerously. A white robe materialised around their form, hiding much of their altered body save for the blackened chest that looked to be formed from uneven, ridged lava. He could see a pair of golden horns akin to a bull's, a halo of circular lights flaring up with purple lights around their head.

"Who are you?" Dual voices greeted him coldly, a surprise for a god born from the heat and power of a volcano. Male, Oschon surmised, by the tones and pitches. The dominant voice had far more of a raspy hiss to it.

"I am Oschon, the Wanderer," he introduced himself calmly, and the new god opened their eyes just barely. Purple irises, set in black sclera. Utterly inhuman, of course, as was to be expected of one created rather than born from the Ancients.

"You created - no. You… woke us?" They asked slowly, seeming confused by their current state.

"I did," he admitted. "We have need of a fellow god who understands life and death like none of us do, to guide souls of those passed to their correct places and to play witness to those still alive."

"And thus here we stand." They crossed their arms, thoughtful and calm now that the situation had been explained.

Oschon nodded, letting them take it all in for a few minutes.

"Do you have a name?" He asked eventually, "or do we need to come up with one for you?"

"A name…" the new god went entirely silent, thinking heavily on it.

Names are important, yes? Came the question from Life. Then we should have one each.

That is true, Death replied. But we should not reveal all just yet. We barely know him. We should pick something that can be put together.

He was the one who gave us this body. We owe him something. What about… this?

That will suffice.

They returned their attention to Oschon.

"... Nald'thal," they answered finally. The Wanderer offered a reassuring smile to them, reaching out carefully. Their metal fingers were heated to the touch, but not unpleasantly so.

"It is an honour, Nald'thal," he took their hand gently, coaxing them forward and away from the ruined crater. Their wings rattled softly; small glass lanterns lit up on the ends, glowing. "Would you like to meet the others? It may be a bit overwhelming," he warned.

Another quick discussion between Life and Death.

"Yes," they answered, voices softening. "We would very much like to meet them and see our new home."

#ffxiv #wondrous tails of ffxiv #wondroustailsofffxiv #myths of the realm #ffxiv 6.1 spoilers #6.1 spoilers #headcanons galore #prompt challenge

[verybadatcardgames]

if sightship if your fave ship why do you make them so mean to each other

That enemies to lovers spice

Well, not really enemies. In their first interaction pre-series, I imagine Pegasus being insufferable and Isis struggling to tolerate him.

I have lots of thoughts on this, but the one that comes to mind here is: Pegasus, for most of his life, didn't experience any strife or suffering until Cyndia died--and he's never emotionally recovered from it. So he goes around making it everyone else's problem, because getting a rise out of people and seeing them have zero power to stop him is one of the few things in his life that sparks joy. The main thing that sparks joy is wine, which doesn't make him truly happy in the long run, but the numbness is welcome. The hangovers the following morning, not so much.

Meanwhile, Isis' life has been nothing but suffering and strife. Tie that in with the fatalistic future the Torque has shown her, which she believes is infallible, and you have someone who is not really motivated to act warmly towards anyone when everyone is just a piece in a game, and there's nothing to do but watch it unfold. Life sucks because it's designed to suck. Hope isn't real, it's just an expectation to be disappointed in the future. Isis doesn't believe in exhausting herself and fighting against the current when she and everyone else is destined to be thrown against the rocks and dragged below. The suffering is going to happen regardless--there's no need to make that pain any worse than it has to be, and she just accepts it.

But Pegasus doesn't share this worldview. He's the keeper of the Millennium Eye; he's the vessel for this immense source of power; he is the chosen one and it's going to be his will and his hands that shall bring forth that which he desires. He has the power. He has the wealth. He's the man with the plan, and no one is going to stand in his way.

Except Fate, which always has its way in the end, to which Pegasus raises a figurative middle finger while he digs up Isis' homeland and sips on a glass of wine. Of course Isis doesn't like him--he spits in the face of Destiny and openly desecrates sacred sites for his personal gain. Isis is a Grave Keeper and Pegasus is no different to her than the packs of grave robbers masquerading as archaeologists over the course of several centuries.

Yet, he is useful. He is a big player in this great and terrible game, one of the most pivotal contributors, and it may very well dictate the future of her clan--and she hates it.

She hates that he is necessary, and that talking to him, and spending time with him, and tolerating every biting, needling word that comes out of his mouth is necessary, if she is to hide the Egyptian Gods and save her brother.

... then, after they part ways and Pegasus gets ego-checked by Bakura, then thoroughly curb stomped by Doma-era Mai, and Isis realizes letting a piece of jewelry decide all your major life decisions and personal philosophy was not necessarily the best thing to do, they sit down over tea and talk about how neither of them really did have everything all figured out back then, and there is still more to their lives to explore, and they act more amicably with each other from there

But upon first impressions, they fight, and that's sightshipping to me

#ship ask #fictional character analysis #headcanons galore #sightshipping

[bolithesenate]

What happens when a Jedi Initiate dies?

It cannot always be prevented, the galaxy is a dangerous place, especially for children, and the Jedi are still only mortal.

Accidents happen. Illnesses exist.

Tragedies do too.

The Crèchemasters are highly trained to prevent that, of course, but they too are only mortal. They too can fail.

The death of an Initiate is a heavy burden, for the entire Temple. It doesn't happen often, but when it does it is a heavy burden. It is from that burden that one of the Order's most sacred traditions stems from.

They may die an Initiate, but they will not join the Force without guidance.

When an Initiate dies, they automatically gain the rank of Padawan – no matter their age. They will posthumously be taken in by a Master and be gifted a braid and a lineage. If they already found their crystal and built their saber, these too will be taken care of by their new Master.

Some Masters of such Ghost-Padawans, especially those who had a bond before their passing, will live the following years as if they had a living student. They will not take on another until the Force or they themselves deems them ready, at which point the High Council will hold a honorary Knighting.

Because while the Order might lose an Initiate, no Initiate will ever be left alone.

#a bit of #star wars meta #for your consideration :) #inspired by the concept of ghost marriages #and my staunch belief that the jedi are found family galore #for a people that has one of its core tenants be 'there is no death only the force' such a tradition would simply make sense #star wars headcanons #star wars #me writing #random boli thoughts #the jedi #jedi order #jedi padawan #also you know the inherent tragedy of other padawans of the same master having a lineage sibling that never was alive to meet them #and the beauty of them still counting as full members of a lineage #jedi as found family #to put it in ao3 terms :)

[turtleblogatlast]

Sometimes I wonder if Leo’s instant latching onto Señor Hueso is due to the fact that Hueso is an older adult man (specifically a father at that) who, while fed up with Leo a lot of the time, still deigns to give him a modicum of attention.

Considering Leo’s a Leo, he craves that attention from a father figure, even if said attention isn’t positive. As long as he’s acknowledged, that’s enough for him, since he’s already used to being his own biggest (and often only) fan as is.

Luckily, Hueso does come around and (reluctantly) forms a connection with Leo as well, but again, I have to wonder if Leo picked out Hueso for a reason.

#rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt leo #rottmnt hueso #rottmnt headcanons #rise leo #rise hueso #there’s also Tim Dunkman #even Marcus Moncrief too #like how Donnie is easily influenced by words of praise from parent aged adults #I find that Leo is influenced by attention from father aged men #unless these men are Baron Draxum who Leo met as a villain first #side note but sometimes I think about how Leo never had a true heartfelt moment with Splinter that wasn’t in a group setting #sure he and Splinter have time together in Many Unhappy Returns but that does more to help Splinter see Leo’s abilities than Leo himself #with how dismissive Splinter is (especially to Leo in that episode) and with how much Leo as a Leo is an ultimate Daddy’s Boy… #well I can imagine how much he longs for that attention #again - even negative #poor kid’s got Daddy Issues galore #they all do really #this is partially why I don’t think Leo reacts much at all to the negative things said about him in Many Unhappy Returns #partially because he’s likely heard it before #and partially because well…even negative that’s still attention #that’s still time he gets to spend with his dad one on one #so it’s not shocking that Leo basically imprints on Hueso #keep in mind that we meet Hueso in the Maze of Death episode #so Hueso at least loosely knows of one of Leo’s lowest moments #and still hasn’t kicked him away soooo congrats boneman you have a lifelong nephew now