#he has horrible fashion sense and that’s the headcanon I stick with

[live-laugh-legolas]

If I could draw even a little good I would draw Aragorn and Boromir at Disneyland with the hobbits.

Aragorn has Frodo and Sam who are super well behaved. Sam has an autograph book and Frodo is on Aragorn’s shoulders.

Boromir has Merry and Pippin who are on leashes and absolutely feral. The character actors are scared of them and Boromir is trying his best.

[textmel8r]

[ DRABBLE ] 𝐎𝐅𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐄 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒 ! ( ninth installment ) in which you are forced to plan a corporate event with your office enemy .

୨୧˚ part; one. two. three. four. five. six. seven. eight. nine. ten. eleven.

୨୧˚ incl; kento nanami

୨୧˚ cw; profanity , alcohol consumption , inebriation , sexual harassment , violence , vomit

୨୧˚ an; i love nami kempo (dis shit like 4k werdssss) ALSO i’ve been getting comments that my tag list isn’t working for me dumb someone help me pls tell me what im doing wrong

୨୧˚ join my discord server ! we share headcanons, fanfic recs, color roles, and more drooling emoji

“Why am I here?” Nanami thinks out loud, glaring pointedly around the unlit dive bar. It’s unglamorous, walls garbed in eclectic music paraphernalia, references that go right past him. Flurries of reds and yellows and oranges in the decor cut brightly, shining through the dim atmosphere. Seriously, would it kill them to switch a light on? It bustles with life; university kids, Nanami is subjected to think based on the… unique fashion sense present in the room. Street wear, torn jeans, crop tops way too short to be considered shirts anymore. He cringes, feeling entirely too dated to be hanging amongst this kind of crowd. His leg bounces restlessly under the ledge of the bar, and he turns to look at you. “Why are we here?”

You’re smiling—actually smiling—flagging down the bartender. “You knew we were coming to a bar,” you cut yourself short, holding up a single finger to him whilst you relayed your order to the older gentleman behind the bar. A rum and coke, you asked politely before glancing toward Nanami. It took a moment for him to realize what that look meant. 

“I’ll have scotch, neat. Thanks.”

“As I was saying,” you steal back his attention, “I made it clear we were coming to a bar. What’s the problem?”

There was a hint of an attitude catching at your words, and Nanami felt his brow twitch in frustration. “You failed to tell me that we’d be in…” He grimaces, peeking back over his shoulder to the sea of youthful patrons slinging over nearly every stool and booth. “ . . . Mixed company.” God awful pop music fizzles through the speakers, twisting and crackling with pops of static; fuel to the billowing flames of Nanami’s overstimulation. “I was expecting something a bit more sophisticated.”

“I can tell,” you’re laughing as you give him a once over, and he gets a shiver of Deja Vu from the coffee shop where you pulled the same exact move. You tweeze at the expensive cotton button down, plucking the bunched fabric of a sleeve at the crease of his elbow. “Thought we said no more fancy clothes?”

Tonight he threw together a plain white shirt and a pair of slim fit khaki pants; the quintessential dad outfit, sure, but fancy? Nanami didn’t think so. “I’m dressed down.”

“Nixing the suit jacket and tie didn’t do much. You still look stiff, man.” Two glasses are brought over, one placed before either of you respectively. Nanami stares down into the glass, a foggy, brown abyss. His alcohol looks watered down and piss cheap. “You stick out, it’s kind of embarrassing.”

“Oh please, you’re too kind.” Nanami rolls his eyes, hunching over the bar and downing a swig from the scotch. Yeah, It was definitely watered down. Fuck this place. 

Your hand slaps his back. “So dramatic. I was kidding Nanami, you look fine.” A cheeky laugh reaches his ears before you tack on, “very handsome.” 

Now he knows you’re messing with him. 

You grin into your cup. “Stop sulking. It’s not so bad here.” Nanami would beg to differ. A debate that isn’t worth having because frankly, it’s a Saturday night and he doesn’t have nearly enough energy to draft a list of all the cons that this joint has to offer. “We got booze,” you raise your glass. “Booze makes everything better.”

His forehead wrinkles. “That’s a horrible mindset to have, Y/n.”

Your boisterous laugh outweighs the ambient chatter, and you take a hearty gulp. Nanami follows suit, albeit a bit awkwardly, tipping more spirits down his throat. You look surprisingly comfortable, slinking against the bar counter with a hazy smile that welcomes strangers in. This time, you weren’t wearing a flowery dress; instead, a low cut shirt and jeans, both equal parts dark and tight. The neckline plummeted deep, exposing slivers of your bra cups and entirely too much cleavage. By God, was his self restraint something to write home about. 

It was easy to fall into comfortable conversation. All in all, Nanami enjoys talking to you now, even if once upon a time the thought of engaging with you evoked such dread that he’d outwardly avoid your presence around the office. Passing along orders specifically meant for you to other colleagues and entrusting them to deliver the message, lengthening the conveyor belt of relation simply because you got him in a tizzy. Back then, all Nanami could see when he looked at you was that cowardly girl in the bathroom with smeared lipstick and a trembling pout. How shameful, he thinks, that it took him this long to see past that terrible first impression. 

“So there I was, balancing ten cups of coffee, shaking like a little bitch,” you laughed as you shared an anecdote from an internship in your university years. Nanami listened intently, head propped up on his fist as he watched your theatrics. Your cheeks flushed with the evidence of alcohol, eyes lidded, smile wobbly. Nanami was feeling the edge of his buzz coming on too, an amazing revelation considering the diluted alcohol this place served. “And I’m walking up ten flights of stairs–”

“Ten flights?” He gawks, feeling looser and matching you with melodrama. “What, did your office not have an elevator?”

You laughed. “It was out of order.”

“Your luck astounds me.”

You flip him off playfully. “I finally get to the last stair and my heel catches on the floor and I eat total shit in front of the entire room!” Nanami can’t stop his own tittering, cupping a palm over his grin. “Spilled the coffee everywhere, twisted my ankle, too. I probably laid in that puddle for ten minutes.”

“That’s why you don’t wear high heels anymore?”

There’s a grimace on your face when you nod, topping off the rest of your glass. “Mm.”

Nanami swaps his own story, of a time when he was in his third year of college and his work laptop got stolen. “I think I cried,” and you guffawed at his misery. “I’m serious, I really think I cried. Alone, on the floor of my dormitory. It was finals week, and I had written my dissertation on that laptop.”

“So what did you do?”

“I pulled an all-nighter in the library on campus and rewrote my entire thesis.” Merely remembering that chaotically stressful night had Nanami huffing a sigh of anguish and dragging an exasperated hand down his face. 

The bartender slides you another drink. Gosh, he was lagging behind. “I would’ve dropped out.” You spoke over the rim of the glass.

“Trust me, I was really close.” Nanami’s eyes narrow, gaging the swell of your throat as you knock back a few swigs. “How many have you had?” 

“A few.” Your answer was blunt, and from that Nanami could gather that his question had rendered you the slightest bit irritated. He understood why; you were a grown woman, who was he to regulate how many rounds you decide to have? But even with this understanding, the man couldn’t shake his concern. “More than you, old timer. Keep up.”

He shakes his head, scratching at his cheek. “This is my last for the night.” Any more, and Nanami would wake up the next morning nauseous with a pounding headache. He took precautions to avoid breaching his limits, he really disliked that hungover feeling. 

You gawk at the declaration. “How lame.” Then you hiccup.

“You can call me lame now, but which one of us will wake up tomorrow not in pain?”

You wave a hand through the air, brushing off his very astute observation. “Hush, that’s for future me to deal with. Present me doesn’t have a care in the world.”

You’re immature, but it’s amusing, so he doesn’t offer any rebuttals. The way you are so insistent on living in the moment is fascinating, almost inspiring even. Nanami feels as though he’s ever crushed by the impending future, always so concerned with what the next day, next week, next month, next year brings. He thinks ahead to a fault, and because of that, forgets to enjoy the little things. But you always stop and smell the roses. It’s admirable. 

“Bartender!” You wag a finger in the air, slamming down your empty glass. Fiending for yet another drink. 

Okay, maybe your ability to live in the now is to a fault as well. Nanami holds a hand up, signaling the barkeep to halt. “Sorry,” he apologizes politely, “she’s all good for now, thanks.” Ain’t that the truth. Your face looked tacky with sweat, pupils scarily dilated. Your words come out dimly slurred, and your gestures uncoordinated. As your business associate, he feels obligated to intervene at this point.

A hand slaps his down. Your hand. “Hey what gives?” You’re upset with him. “Just because you’re done doesn’t mean I am.”

“You’re three sips away from throwing up on yourself,” Nanami deadpans, unphased by your drunken outburst. Unbeknownst to the two of you, another patron had taken up the stool opposite of you. To be expected; the bar was decently crowded, that being said neither of you paid much mind to the man. He was younger than Nanami for sure, his hair unkempt and shaggy, swept back by sweat and something that looked like grease. He was smiling, probably on some brand of dope that Nanami was unfamiliar with. The stranger interrupts, leaning over with his elbow planted on the countertop. 

“You her father or some shit?” He speaks without any warning, catching both you and Nanami’s attention. 

Father? Nanami internally grimaces, jaw tightening. Just how old does he think I am? Trying not to be offended by the inquiry, he corrects the man. “Just a concerned friend, that’s all.” You have yet to speak, still a tad caught off guard by the unexpected company. 

The stranger’s grin widens, reaching shit-eating status. “Then hop the fuck off her case, man.” He shoots a pair of lidded, droopy eyes toward you, eyebrows jumping in a manner that is entirely too suggestive for Nanami’s liking. “If the lady wants another drink, then let her have another drink.”

Nanami feels the awkward tension thicken the air between this interaction. For all the shit you talked about getting hit on in bars, he would have never expected you to act so timid when put in a position like this. Nanami fully expected you to side with the latter party, to order another round of vodka-whatever and then leave with your newfound knight in shining armor. What actually happened: “No, er, my friend might be right actually,” followed by an incredibly strained chuckle. Your shoulders stiffen, Nanami can practically feel the way you harden up beside him. “I should probably take it easy.”

The man feigns grief. “Aw, c’mon. You seemed so eager before. Let me buy you another?”

“She just said—”

“I was talking to her, not you.”

Nanami was utterly shocked by the sheer gall this young man possessed. Was he trying to intimidate him? It was painfully ineffective. “I don’t want one,” you said with a little more oomph this time, fiercely hanging on the urge to defend Nanami. It made him feel strangely prideful. 

The stranger’s smile never retreated, but something sinister glinted in the ocean of his dark eyes. He gave a sniff, brushing the point of his nose with the pad of his thumb before hurling yet another unwanted flirtation your way. “Baby, hey, what’s one more drink? I saw you from across the room, I’ve been dyin’ to chat you up.” Under the table, his hand slips into your personal space. Nanami sees it unfold in his peripherals; the pallor hand slithering over your lap, grabbing a handful of your denim-clad thigh. You yelped in surprise, wincing. Nanami saw it all.  

He was not a violent man. In fact, he could count the number of times he’s thrown a punch in his life on one hand. Physical fights were pointless, a waste of time and energy because Nanami wholeheartedly believed that altercations were best settled with words. But the moment your nervous squeak found his ears, Nanami couldn’t control the urge to beat this guy’s face in. So that’s what he did; sliding out of his seat to round you and pull the stranger off his stool by the collar of his faux leather jacket. The material felt cheap and mingy, not something Nanami would ever be caught dead wearing. Without so much as a second thought, Nanami sends a heavy fist barreling into the meat of his cheek. One good, solid punch, and the sinewy gentleman was tumbling to the ground, walking the thin line between consciousness. “Shit…” Nanami breathes, chest heaving with barely concealed rage, knuckles throbbing to the beat of his racing heart. The bar went dead, too many pairs of eyes locked onto him to count, but the only ones he could care about were yours. 

You looked at Nanami with such astonishment, with your eyes pried wide as dinner plates and your mouth ajar. He was ready for you to yell at him, to curse him for embarrassing you in a pub you frequented, but nothing came. Well, almost nothing. 

“Security!” The bartender hollered thick and deep, slapping a damp rag onto the counter with a wet plap. 

“Shit!” Nanami repeated, cuffing a hand around the thinnest part of your wrist, tugging you into his side as you both raced toward the exit. “Let’s go.”

You’re gurgling and grumbling, latching onto the material of his shirt as little bouts of complaining bubbled past your lips. “Not so fast!” and “Oh God, my stomach” and “I don’t feel good.” Nanami had been reduced to your crutch at this point; he bore the entirety of your weight without batting an eye because your own legs were too wobbly to do it yourself. 

“I know,” he murmured, maneuvering through the crowd. “Hold it together, we’re almost there.”

The first step outside felt like entering Heaven. Nanami basked in the cleanliness of the chilly night air, gulping down a big breath of fresh oxygen that hadn’t been tainted by marijuana smoke. But suddenly, you’re detaching yourself from his hip and he’s bewildered by your sudden need for proximity. “Y/n—”

He turns to face you, only to be met with the crown of your head. Doubled over at the waist, hands on the lower fraction of your thighs, you vomit onto the dewy pavement… and his shoes. Nanami’s cursing once more, drawing closer despite how much you obviously don’t want him to. “Alright,” he coos in exasperation, gathering your hair into a bundle and holding it away from the splash zone. “It’s alright, get it out.”

“You’re… Did I just puke on y-your feet?” Your voice is croaky, something of a mixture of embarrassment and illness. You can’t even look at him. 

“Stand up,” Nanami tells you. He’s unbending you, straightening your body upright with a hand pressing your back in from his bowed shape. “Can you look at me?”

You pout, childlike. “No.” You’re looking at his shoes, the toes slick with remnants of your stomach acid. 

“They’re just shoes, I have a million pairs.” His head cocks to a tilt. “Would you look at me, please?”

You’re sighing, but looking up to him nonetheless. Gazing up with big, glossy eyes and wet lashes that clumped together through tears. Eyeliner diluted and cradling your undereyes in a dark embrace. You wipe your mouth with the back of a palm, smearing shimmery gloss out of the confines of your lip line. It’s all so nauseatingly familiar, this pitiful display. Nanami decides he hates seeing you like this. 

“I’m sorry,” you chirp. 

“Don’t apologize.” 

“I’ll pay for them.”

Nanami puts a hand on your shoulder when he notices the slant in your posture. “Cut it out, that’s entirely unnecessary.” He looks around the parking lot, full of vehicles. They catch the glint from the yellowish street lamps. “Did you drive here?” He thinks it’s unlikely, seeing as you let yourself fall under such intoxication. You weren’t so irresponsible; if you drove here, you would’ve made sure you’d be able to drive home too, like he did. 

You’re shaking your head. “Caught a train.”

Nanami nods, pleased. “Good. That’s good.” With all the grace and gentleness in the world, the man loops your limp arm back around his nape, securing you against his oblique with a sturdy arm snaked around your waist. Everything is ginger, lest he upset your stomach again. “Are you good to walk?”

“Yeah, I think I’m alright.”

“Then let me take you to my car.”

That pulls a frown from you. “You don’t need—need to drive me there, Nana’. The station—” Hiccup “It’s just down the road.”

The blonde glowers. “You can barely stand on your own, public transportation is out of the question.” Like Hell he’s going to let an obviously inebriated, attractive young woman such as yourself ride the subway alone. Please, don’t make him laugh. “I’m driving you home.”

“It’s out of your way.”

“I don’t care.”

It’s a slow race, but Nanami eventually hauls you to his car parked at the entrance of the lot. A midnight shade Maserati; he doesn’t miss the way you gawk at his luxurious ride. “If I had a car like this, I’d never leave it.” He laughs. You smack his bicep. “I’m not kidding, I’d sleep in this thing. She’s gorgeous.”

“She says thank you,” he huffs his response. Nanami leans you up against the side of his car, pinning you between its door and his thigh while he opens the passenger door. “Watch your head.” His hand curls around the roof’s ledge, a makeshift cushion to protect your skull as you duck into the car seat. Immediately, you’re slumping back into the comfortable leather interior, moaning out quiet mewls of exhaustion. 

“Yeah, I’d definitely sleep in here.”

“Keep those eyes open.” The door swings shut, and Nanami makes haste when rounding the rear of his car to the driver’s side. He had barely toed the line of sobriety anyways, but knocking a stranger on his ass was definitely more than enough to woosh any semblance of haziness from his veins. Nanami wouldn’t think about driving—wouldn’t think about putting you or anyone else on the road in danger—if he felt even the slightest bit impaired by the scotch. Behind the wheel, the man leans across the center console to grab your seat’s safety belt, carefully dragging it over your chest and clipping it into the buckle. “I need your address first, then you can knock out.”

“My address…” You ponder, lips pursed and eyes blinking at a snail’s pace. Sleepiness prevails, and you fall in and out of slumber, head lolling and cheek mashed up against your shoulder. 

Nanami carps, unappreciative of your inability to stay awake long enough for this much needed conversation. “Hey,” he bleats, patting the top of your thigh. “Come on, Y/n. I need to know where you live.”

You whine, rolling your eyes at his persistence. “The city.”

“You live in the city.” Nanami deadpans at the useless information you’ve just spared. 

“Mm.” And then you’re drifting back to sleep. 

Nanami pinches high on the bridge of his nose with a thumb and forefinger, over the permanent divets where his glasses have drilled into his skin. The contortment of his fingers sends another spike of pain over his bruising knuckles. “Wake up and give me a proper address.” He supposes his heated seats aren’t doing much to stave off your tiredness, so he presses his knuckle into the off button. You whine. 

“I don’t remember, okay?”

That’s how you ended up at Nanami’s home, tucked under his lavish sheets in his bed that’s entirely too big for one person. Your outfit had been neatly folded and piled upon his dresser, exchanged for one of his tee shirts and a pair of sweatpants that were cinched at the waist. He helped you into his clothes—with your undivided consent, of course. A completely clinical and respectful process; Nanami looked elsewhere, acting as a handle for you to hold onto as you stepped into the oversized pants he held open for you. They were far too wide, falling off your hips, so he took the time to tie a precious, little bow with the drawstrings. 

“Comfy?” He asks upon his return to the bedroom, holding a glass of tap water in one hand, a bottle of pills rattling in the other. You’re exactly where he left you; swimming in his bedsheets, the comforter hoisted up to your chest. Nanami sets the water down on the bedside table, then takes a seat on the edge of his mattress, working the bottle open. 

“I’ve never been more comfortable,” you sigh blissfully, taking a deep inhale. “Your blankets smell good.”

The blonde can’t help his chuckle. “I’ll give you the name of the laundry detergent I use tomorrow.” With deft fingers, he plucks two small tablets, light pain medication, and sets the pair on the table next to your water glass. 

“Promise?” Your tongue pokes out from between your teeth, playful. He chides an airy yes, snapping the tylenol bottle shut. Then, your smile fades; you’re averting your eyes, fixing them somewhere over to the blank canvas of Nanami’s gray, bedroom wall. “Hey, um…” He watched the side of your face, watches the flex of your jawline and the tension in your neck. “Did I—I didn’t really throw up on you, right?”

You rub at your temple, like you’re trying to find the memory but it’s just out of reach. “No,” he replies instantly, steadily, like it’s not a complete lie. Like his bile-ridden shoes aren’t sitting outside on his front door step, waiting to be cleaned. “You don’t remember?”

“It’s fuzzy,” you grumble, frustrated with yourself. “I had too much.”

Normal circumstances permitted, Nanami would’ve totally took this opportunity to have his I told you so moment. But you already looked  upset, maybe a little bit sick still, so he bit his tongue for you. “Some drunk imbecile interrupted us. We shared words, and then he got sick on us.” He was pleased with himself, his story must’ve been believable with the way you nodded along. 

“And then you punched him, right?”

His face drops. “That’s what you remember?”

Your shrug. “I don’t think I’ll ever forget it, Nanami. Not for my entire life.”

“Kento.” You hum, confused, so he reiterates, “I mean, call me Kento. I just clothed you, I’d say we’re close enough.” It’s true, you guys were getting more and more comfortable together by the day. Even outside of work and the management project, Nanami and you share text conversations more frequently than he would’ve ever imagined. And these little hangouts—granted, only two have been executed thus far—have been the most fun he’s had in ages. More fun than he’d ever hope to have with his ‘friendly’ business colleagues. You’re his friend. 

You, Y/n L/n, are his friend. What a strange fucking twist of events, it nearly gives Nanami whiplash. 

“Ken… To…” You speak each syllable slowly, peeking up at him through your eyelashes. He nods, grinning easily. Happy. “Kento, Kento, Ken—”

“Okay, okay enough.” He rises, arms raised as he gives a hearty stretch to his back. “It’s bedtime. Over there,” Nanami points at a door, “is the bathroom if you need it. You’ve got water here, and make sure you take the medicine in the mornings. You’re going to have a terrible migraine.”

“Wait, where are you gonna go?”

“I’ll take the couch for tonight.”

“Kento…” You whine, and he really wished you wouldn’t do that. “C’mere. There’s room.”

You’re patting the expansive open space beside you, peeling back the heavy blankets. It’s an enticing offer, to slip in beside you and feed off your body heat. To hold you to him and— Stop, what are you thinking? Stupid. “I think it’s best we don’t. Sorry.” And then he’s fleeing to the door because the way in which he worded that made the depths of his soul curl with cringe. Nanami bids you a polite sleep well before leaving you to the darkness, though he has enough sense left to keep the door cracked just in case you should yell for him in the night. 

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[margindoodles2407]

Margin's Star Wars Headcanons Part One

Obi-Wan has horrible chronic headaches, and he has since he was a baby. There is nothing that should be causing these headaches; other THAN the headaches, he's in perfect health. After years of examination by the healers, the only thing they can conclusively say is that he needs to take space tylenol and make sure he's resting when the headaches come on (when the war starts, things get complicated). However, there is a theory- espoused by Obi-Wan himself- that the headaches may be a physical reaction to the dark side; alas, there is no conclusive way to test whether or not allergic reactions to evil are possible. 

You know that trope where there's the two characters, and when they get sick, the one makes extra time to heal and recover while the other one adamantly refuses to accept that they are sick until they're like. Actively collapsing on the floor and sweating buckets from a fever? You would expect the first to be Obi-Wan and the second to be Anakin, wouldn't you. You'd be wrong. Anakin has a weak immune system due to his childhood, and even though he's infamously stubborn, now that he's a Jedi and has the time and resources to rest and recuperate from the illnesses he faces on a somewhat regular basis, you bet your bottom dollar that he's going to take advantage of that. Hot showers? Laying in bed all day? The really, really good soup that Obi-Wan ONLY makes when someone is sick? Heck yeah. On the other hand. You know how I said earlier that other than his headaches, Obi-Wan is in near-perfect health? So he, like, NEVER gets sick. So he therefore has trouble recognizing when he IS sick. And even when he does, he has a thought process like, "Oh, I have a good immune system, this'll be over by the morning." So he just. Does not acknowledge his illness because he has such faith in his immune system. And then finally he'll be in a council meeting or something and Mace will just look over at him and say something like, "Master Kenobi, you are not well. Go to the Halls of Healing." And Obi's just like, "Really? What do you mean" (as his already pale skin is now paper-white, the normal undereye bags are absolute trenches, his hair is sticking up all over the place, and he has a cough with such intensity as to rival General Grievous). And then Yoda pipes up to say "About to vomit all over the floor, I sense you are. To the halls of healing, go NOW, or drag you there myself, I will."

Padme actually was the one who got Ahsoka from S1-S3 Tube Top to S3-S5 Better Clothes™. As the Queen of Fashion she judged (correctly) that not only was Tube Top improper for a child to wear to war, it was a crime against fashion, and so she used That Cash Money to have Better Clothes™ personally tailored for her Baby Sister In Law Husband's Padawan Close Friend's Padawan.

@whyoneartheven I think you'll appreciate this

[astorythatwritesitself]

My phone refuses to copy the symbols so the time, sleep, and death headcanons for Adrian!

ONE OF EM GOT... LONG. (Death section is below the cut and discusses some passive suicidal tendencies)

HO HO HO

Time

As a kid, there was never enough, there was always something to do. Adult Adrian, however, is... Aware Of Time.

Time feels like a weird slimy blanket she wants to shake off as fast as possible. There's just too damn much of it- she just becomes excruciatingly aware of Every Second once breaking out of the post-Akuze haze, and it's even worse post-Lazarus. I also imagine her sense of it is... kind of skewed, after the Beacon and Cipher? Especially when the memories surface in her dreams, she wakes feeling... really disoriented and out of place - she may not quite feel the full 50,000 years, but it's- you know those dreams that feel like living a whole other life? It's that but on steroids.

God though during the Collector mission- she hates being so aware of time, but even worse is that day she wakes up and feels for the first time since she was young- lifetimes ago, because whoever went to Akuze wasn't the same person who got spaced- oh gods there's nowhere near enough time left, she'll do anything for a little bit more.

Sleep

Is easier in small, cramped spaces. Or vehicles. Seriously, best way to get her to conk out is to stick her as a passenger in damn near any car- wheeled ones are better, but skycars work fine too; and you will routinely find her- even once she's hitting XO/CO spots with private accommodations- in sleeper pods or a standard bunk instead of a larger bed. Part of it's just from growing up with close quarters, but there's also an element of fear. If she's boxed in on all sides, or has others around, nothing can get the jump on her. Part of it's the simple fact of, give her the room and she contorts into horrible positions that leave her creakier than a rusty gate the next day, and no one needs that. (Giant seal-shaped pillow helps a little, though.)

Death

Shepard grew up with death. One of her earliest memories is listening to an update from Shanxi with her father, who was working very, very hard (and failing) to not cry as he explained to 3-year-old Adrian how Mom might not be coming home. Dinners turned somber because Adrian Sr. or Hannah got the news about a friend, how tragic it was- but how noble, their willingness to give up everything for humanity.

At thirteen years old, Adrian had decided that if her body was recovered (because she was joining the Alliance, of course, so recovery was always a matter of 'if') when she died, she wanted to be buried at sea. She had recently learned about whalefalls and found it kind of comforting, to think whatever was left of her could find new life, in a fashion, somewhere more mysterious and remote to her than the depths of space. (She also leans to the idea of some kind of afterlife, but what it could be... it's easier to fathom becoming fodder for sleeper sharks and isopods or the like.)

Death had kind of surrounded her entire life, but witnessing it once hitting active duty was... really something else. Causing it even more so. She stuck to biotic, tech, and sniper training because- well, if she has to kill, then... keep it clean and quick. Keep it to situations that call for it. Adrian will talk until her tongue is numb to defuse a situation before it can get violent, but also sometimes there's a merc charging and it's gonna be you or them.

And sometimes you panic and suddenly a lot of people depending on you are dead, and you get a medal for it, and you just stop thinking about it or very much else for a while, just follow orders and that tiny flickering light that says 'don't escalate'. And right as you're halfway okay again, not thinking about The Incident as much and settling into feeling like you can take care of others (up to and gladly at the cost if your own life- you keep them at your back, rush into fire surely only to clear the way), you're getting assaulted by this Green Goblin wannabe motherfucker on his fucking hoverboard, forcing you to leave behind a close friend who had barely seen any battles because you didn't want him to hurt any more than he already did and besides he still had Reservations and you didn't want to see him become like you and all that did was get him killed-

Yeah, getting spaced was welcome. And when some jackass decided, 'hey nah you can't clock out yet', she threw herself into it so hard because- look, she intended on getting everyone else out alive, of course! All lives are worthwhile and shouldn't be thrown away, but you have to understand. Adrian's royally fucked up her own, and she's actually kind of over this soldier/Spectre thing, but also doesn't really know anything else so- look she's not actively trying to die!

She just thinks it's not the worst thing ever if she gets killed, especially if it's in saving someone else; her friends really need better influences- and sure, she literally can't forsee a future two years down the line that has her in it, but she's never been able to see much of a future that wasn't more of the same, it's not that different.

[obeymycok]

HOL Smoke Session

This was supposed to be done much sooner but y’know oh well. Happy late 4/20 at least I finished it in April

Lucifer

I feel like he’d either be very spaced out or giggly and engaged

Kinda like a kid when they get excited and need to show you something right now

Showing you his completed paperwork like a kid who just cleaned his room without being asked

Very proud of what he’s accomplished

If he spaces out though, he’ll just stare at the wall 

Unblinking, mouth hanging open, and probably has difficulty standing up

I feel like he’s more of a drinker though so he wouldn’t partake too often

Mammon

Fuck

Money making schemes out the ass but they’re even more prone to failure I’m sorry ily

Probably pretty loud too and doesn’t remember how to whisper

Crow laugh

He will drop his tsundere act though, he’s definitely a cuddle slut

Forehead kisses are a must 

It’s probably not new to him but he needs his sharp mind for gambling

Leviathan

Will not stop talking

Like holy shit but we love him

Gaming and anime rants x10

His anxiety is at bay for the most part, but if he freaks out he’s not shy with affection anymore either

Please just hold him

Sometimes gets a little buzzed before going outside if he knows there’s gonna be a lot of stress

Satan

Hear me out

Lucifer drinks, Satan smokes

He started because the smell would stick to anything and Lucifer HATED it

So naturally he smoked inside as much as he could

In the midst of Lucifer’s misery, Satan actually found it mellowing him out more than most things did

He just calms down and gets kinda giggly 

Wants to go looking for a cat and will if you don’t stop him

I can see him smoking pretty often, it gets him even more lost in reading and calms him

Asmodeus

He is F E E L I N G himself

Even more confidence, if that’s even possible

Also even sweeter again if that’s even possible

He wants to do your makeup but will cry if he messes it up

He messes it up he’s so sorry

Very giggly but that cute asmo giggle that makes you cream

He does lose his fashion sense, he’ll go shopping with Satan without criticizing

“OOO Satan! Look! This green striped bow tie would look ABSOLUTELY STUNNING over that red undershirt. Oh! ESPECIALLY with those yellow shoes, it just makes everything POP!” 

Always ashamed after, but the confidence in the moment makes everyone think he’s serious

He’s started some very horrible trends on accident

He’ll smoke occasionally, but please do not let him shop

He can’t have anyone finding out that HE was the one who picked out that horrendous outfit

Beelzebub

He doesn’t smoke much because of how active he is, he needs all that lung capacity

Much prefers eating to smoking and does so relatively often

He smokes when him or Belphie have had a really bad nightmare and need calming down faster than the edible would hit

I like the headcanon that Beel’s stomach is content when he’s eating, even if it’s a slow pace, and the longer he goes without eating the hungrier he gets

Now yes if he inhales 16 burgers at once it’ll take a little longer (about an hour) for his stomach to start growling. But, if it takes him an hour to finish a bag or Doritos, that’ll be enough to satisfy his hunger for about a half hour

Basically when he’s stoned he eats very slow; one chip at a time shit��

He wants to savor the taste instead of just wolfing it down to stop the hunger pains

He’s not much of a talker, sober or high, but he’s all smiles and just a happy, warm energy

Belphegor

You’re tripping if you think Belphie isn’t always stoned

I’m convinced that’s all he does when he’s awake

The trauma is deep with this one but drinking makes his head spin and keeps him from falling asleep when that’s all he wants to do

He can’t handle hangovers either, he’d rather just cough in the moment and drink some water

Beel has a mini fridge in their room just filled with water for Belphie because he doesn’t want his throat to hurt

He smokes with Beel when they have nightmares and always stays up to help him bake edibles

Headcanon Beel asked for his help on making edibles one time and Belphie discovers his love for baking

Now he always somehow ends up in the kitchen when someone is baking, even if there’s no weed involved

Let him lick the spoon

Beel’s eating headcanon idea: https://underratedbitch-number13.tumblr.com/post/680240449812824064

Original Idea: https://kitsune-oji.tumblr.com/post/661844926251909120/ah-hi-i-really-like-your-writing-so

These are the fics that gave me these ideas. Both of these people are phenomenal writers I highly suggest following them!

[gamer-logic]

Hetalia Platonic Ships Week Day 6: 1p-2p Drunk Headcanons!

Alfred: Thinks he's Captain America and uses a trash can lid as a shield. Knocks out Allen with it accidentally after trying to throw it.

Allen: Gets a Texan accent and will sing country songs horribly and annoyingly loud.

Mathew: Doesn't drink often, but does it for hockey. Immediately goes into hardcore mode and gets aggressive. Has succeeded in beating up both Russias before with his bare hands after losing a game. James is subtly scared of drunk Mathew.

James: Surprisingly is a lightweight but won't drink to keep Mathew in line when he does. Has tried to tie hockey sticks to his and Kuma's heads to make them look like moose and try to start fights. Kuma just inwardly polar bear sighs at his owner's antics and quickly knocks him out and carries him on his back. Kuma lets him and sometimes Mathew sleep on his back when they're passed out or having a hangover.

Arthur: Well, we all know how he is when drunk, but one should never give him a spellbook. The last time that happened, he made Alice in Wonderland real. Now that was a trip!

Oliver: Unsurprisingly, he's a complete lightweight and can't hold his own. Gets really bubbly and tries to bake everything while dancing. When I say everything I mean everything. The kitchen still stains on the ceiling after he chaotically baked every sweet known to man and then proceeded to initiate a one-person food fight.

Francis: Gets really silly and loses his fashion sense. Arthur has a video of him trying on curtains for a dress, toilet paper for a cape, and a lampshade for blackmail purposes.

Luiz: This is a man who has a tolerance level rivaling Thor. Has a preference for aged wine.

Yao: Actually lets loose and acts more like Xiao. Xiao takes full advantage and they immediately cause havoc. Yao may have a high tolerance due to his age, but Xiao's combos will affect him almost instantly, as will any other combo since he's only ever drunk Baiju and other old drinks straight.

Xiao: If you thought he was a chaotic force of nature before, he becomes the perfect storm when drunk and no one can stop him! Also, his combos will get anyone drunk within the first 10 minutes and he especially loves using it on Yao who he'll follow behind with a camera for blackmail. He and Gilbert are the two major sources for blackmail and will compete over who's got the best pics.

Ivan: Has a high tolerance, after all, he drinks vodka on an almost daily basis. If one can get him drunk though, he'll actually start getting sad and cry, pouring his heart out. Viktor will sit and be there for him while also making sure he never goes hard so he doesn't end up like he did.

Viktor: Literally never gets drunk and no one has ever been able to get him drunk. Some think it's because he has an astronomical high tolerance level and they're not far off the mark. He's drunk so much to cope with all the terrible stuff in his life that it's lost its effect and he literally can't get drunk anymore, no matter how much he wants to. Even hard liquor doesn't work and he keeps trying to fill the void.

Ludwig: Can't handle anything besides a good beer. He'll be the life of the party, completely contradicting his usual strict demeanor and everyone will collect blackmail for when they get in trouble at the next meeting. Gilbert has the most and will sell it for a good price. He's made a good sum of money and this keeps his video game funds filled.

Lutz: Will get so energized he'll be doing laps for a while until he eventually crashes once again. He's got to retain those muscles somehow! Also has a reasonable level of tolerance.

GIlbert: Likes going on rants about the old days as the Teutonic Knights. Ludwig and Klaus like hearing the stories he otherwise wouldn't share if sober. They've sworn a vow of secrecy.

Klaus: Loses his anxiety and depression for a while but believes he's still a knight. But this knight is more akin to a stereotypical knight and he'll try rescuing the dogs, Klaubird, and Gilbird from the vacuum.

Luciano: Also has a huge tolerance level but on the rare occasion he gets drunk enough, he'll start acting more like Feliciano and say Ve~ after every sentence. According to Flavio, this is how he use to act before Rome died and he had to become the boss. Also, Flavio has managed to get pics of him while wearing a homemade Wario costume courtesy of Flavio who's dressed up as Waluigi to compliment Feliciano and Lovino who're wearing Mario and Luigi costimes.

Feliciano: NEVER, EVER GET HIM DRUNK. If you thought he was hyper before, he goes ham like the Tasmanian devil when drunk. Though he's fine after drinking wine, if he gets anything stronger he'll become chaos.

Lovino: Will get affectionate, more happy-go-lucky, and cuddly, completely contrasts his regular tsundere attitude. Flavio takes advantage to have him try on his new clothes. Has been convinced to wear the Luigi costume by a sober Feliciano because he thought it was fun.

Flavio: Prefers drinking while designing. He gets a lot of inspiration while tipsy so he has a reasonable tolerance level.

Kiku: Otaku side comes out and gets extremely extroverted. Alred thinks drunk Japan is really fun to do stupid stuff with.

Kuro: If he gets drunk he won't show it. But Gilbert has somehow managed to acquire video of him pretending to be an actual ninja and trying/failing to stick to walls and naruto run. We suspect Kiku may have something to do with GIlbert getting the video. Never let him find out!

[shirophantomvox]

First Date With Hisoka

Hello anon! Thank you for this post! I’m sure many of us have wondered this for the longest and now your prayers will be answered.

For a while now, I have been thinking about his character and his way of living. I had this odd feeling that how Hisoka acts in public is much different than when he is alone. It seems like his “clown look” is a mask to cover up any feelings that he may have. Given that he doesn't like to talk about his past, the “clown look” is something he does to temporarily take his mind from his troubles. I got this idea by viewing the 1999 anime where he was in a restaurant with his hair down, in a suit, and seemed like he was all by himself. He is a loner and giving him company is the best thing you could do! I think (it’s Obvious) that Hisoka’s two looks are supposed to portray alter egos. His clown look is supposed to intimidate his victims while the other one is supposed to portray him as a normal human and draw people in. Sounds horrible right? It is. Forgive me if you see grammar errors. It's late and I don't have time to check it over!

Not knowing of him being a hunter, you agreed to go out with Hisoka for the first time. You’d met him at an escape room in your town. Both parties weren’t supposed to clash into each other but it happened. His charismatic attitude immediately caught your attention, nearly making you swoon in your Tinder date’s arm. After being home for 10 minutes, you hear a knock on your kitchen window. It is 3 am! Who could be there? It couldn’t be a robber because they’d never knock! You pulled back the drapes hesitantly not knowing what ominous creatures lurked beneath the shadows. The man’s golden eyes shined through the window, sending a chill down your spin. His smile was as wide as his face. It was the man from the escape room!

“Remember me,” he asked, a muffled voice sounded behind the closed window. “You passed out from pleasure.”

No one could forget that very moment. He practically asked you out through a closed window and promised to never stalk you again...sort of.

Headcanon 1: Hisoka is quite the gentleman. This is self-explanatory. Part of his personality involves a subtle attitude, smooth way of talking, and will persuade you to let down your guard because he can tell. Anytime you approach a door, he opens it for you just to beat you to the second door. While you are with him, you WILL NOT open any doors. He has seen other people let the door slam in their s/o’s face or allow them to open it themselves and views it as utter disrespect.

When you see him pulling out your chair before you sit down, you gasp. It is 2021; you’ve never seen anyone do that, only in movies from the 1950s!

If there is a puddle and it's too large for you to step over, he will lay his ripped up jacket in it for you to step on so you do not get your shoes wet.

Headcanon 2: He’ll pay for dinner.

“Feel free to order anything you’d like. It’s on me.”

“It’s on you?”

“Yes. My chest is available if you do not feel like using a plate.”

When he says that he’ll pay for dinner, he’ll play for dinner. You could order lobster, oysters, bread sticks, pasta, or the whole world! He has several debit and credit cards with no limits and will do anything to prove that he cares about his...toy.

Headcanon 3: He thinks of you as an expensive toy.

An expensive toy can be electronic devices. We use these devices to cure our boredom or even grow to love them because they help better our lives in some way.

While you two are enjoying appetizers, he’s gently stroking your hand; his sharp nails grazing your skin in such a satisfying manner.

Headcanon 4: He is much more touchy than he should be on a first date.

Hisoka’s personality isn’t different to anyone who knows him. To your surprise, his flirtations and forward behavior was expected. Instead of sitting across the table from you, he scooted down the booth, sat with 4 inches of you, and placed his left hand around your shoulders pulling you closer.

“Ah. This is much better. Now we can get to know each other better,” he said, fluttering his eyelashes. “You're much shyer than you were in the escape room. Why is that?”

Trying to look him in the eye across the table was very intimidating. It’s odd. You didn’t feel that way when he asked you out through the closed window. The heat radiating from his body hit your face like a sack of rocks. As much as you wanted to respond to him, you couldn’t. On a normal day, you were the talkative and energetic one, but there is something about this unique gentleman that had you aghast.

“Kitten, please look me in the eye when I am speaking to you,” he said ever so smoothly, placing his index finger under your smooth chin, lifting your chin so your eyes could meet his. He gently caressed your cheek with the tip of his nail waiting for you to answer. “Well?”

You flushed. Hard. Harder than you have ever done! Your eyes shook in slight fear. This man’s husky presence brought a sense of dominance; it was as if a lion was standing over you ready to make a move. Just as you opened your mouth to respond, he placed his index finger over your mouth.

“Hmmm…your cheeks seem to be a shade of pink. Something I hadn’t noticed before.”

The sound of his voice practically in your right ear melted your brain signaling your entire body to do the same. You appeared to be dumbfounded; staring blankly into his golden eyes. They were mesmerizing.

Everyone knows that you are not supposed to kiss on the first date but Hisoka Morrow does NOT follow anyone’s rules. He leans in close, puckering his lips and you follow. Just as your lips were 0.5 inches away from his, he pulled back causing you to nearly lean into him in a rather humiliating way. The waiter came with a bottle of Red wine and asked if you were ready to order.

Hisoka laughed at the epic fail he saw before him.

“You have to be quicker than that, dear.”

Headcanon 5: He asks a LOT of questions about you. Google might as well write their name on his forehead because he asks you a lot of questions.

He asked questions about your future, your talents, what job you want or have, what are your deepest, darkest fears, and anything he can use to exploit if he needs to. Yes, we all love soft Hisoka, but we have to realize that he is still manipulative at times for his own entertainment.

Of course he dodges questions about him.

Headcanon 6: He asks for a selfie to brag to lllumi. Illumi couldn’t care less about Hisoka’s happiness but he entertains the thought. Although Illumi claims he doesn’t need friends, he secretly loves the time they spend together.

“Smile big,” he says.

“Who’s going to see this,” you ask.

“Don’t worry. Only those on my private story will see this. You’re in good hands.”

Do you want to know who’s on his private story? The Phantom Troupe, The 10 Dons, and Zeno. Those people SHOULD NOT know who you are just yet.

Headcanon 7: His first date gifts are out of this world. Not only did he bring you flowers, he brought you a glass frame, expensive chocolate, and one of his crop-top shirts with his cologne on it.

“Why did you give me your shirt?”

“So you can dream of me everyday. Wear it to bed; you’ll be in heaven I guarantee it.”

Headcanon 8: Dress to impress. Mr. Morrow is known to be a fashion icon, but his dress clothes will blow you out of the water. His grayish-white suit makes his skin tone pop and more vibrant while not underneath light. His cologne was so heavily applied that you could smell it a mile away. He purposefully wore his tie crooked so you could fix it.

“Do you mind?” He pointed to his wrinkled tie.

“Not at all.” He smiled cheekily at your fingers as they fixed the clump of cloth on his neck. He was tempted to pull your fingers to his lips but didn’t.

“I’ll save that for next time,” he thought.

[beautifulterriblequeen]

A Tiadrin theory

I woke up this morning with a sudden headcanon about Tiadrin, and as I poked at it, it filled out nicely, so I’m gonna go ahead and call it a theory at this point.

It gets angsty, as all good Moonshadow theories do. If your heart doesn’t weigh 6 tons by the time you reach the end of this post, I didn’t capture the feeling properly.

Several bits of detail flutter around this mysterious woman, and I’ve theorized various versions of her circumstances, her relationship with Runaan and Ethari, her former position before the Storm Spire, the reasons she went there, and the reasons Runaan was so hellbent on avenging her dishonor.

I don’t think any of them landed as well or tied together as neatly as this one, though. Hence “theory” instead of just “headcanon.” Here we go:

FIrstly, some meta information. This is a fun tweet, but in this post I’m looking directly at “belief systems as sources of both comfort and restraint” and at the “weight of guilt” and “cycles of trauma” lines, in regards to Moonshadow culture, and specifically Moonshadow assassin training.

And raise your hand if you’ve been looking further afield than the front-and-center Janaya-with-Soren nod from “ripped women who teach soft boys to stab,” because I have. TDP is full of parallels and imperfect mirrors.

So, in the spirit of soft yet angsty cycles and the ripped women who perpetuate them, Theory Part I: Tiadrin trained Runaan, because she was the leader of the assassins before he was.

She’s referred to as a mastermind. Assassin leaders need to be good with plans of all sizes. We’ve seen how Runaan silently adapts to chaos and doesn’t tell anyone what his new plans actually are. He’s a good leader. But he also had to learn those skills from someone. Whoever instructed him was a tactical genius, and also very Moonshadow, and Runaan was an adept student.

Also, Tiadrin is a goddamn badass. She’s several inches shorter than Lain, Runaan, Ethari, and Viren. But she is a powerhouse in battle. She knows her physics well enough to drag this 6′2″ human battle mage skidding across the floor. Monster thighs, monster intellect.

As a 5′4″ woman who trained in jujitsu for several years, let me just say: gender equality in battle is great, but physics does not care. It will crush your popsicle-stick ass if you try to chuck a 250 lb person across the room and your math is off. The most accurate fighters are the ones who know how hard physics hits back when you’re sloppy.

Tiadrin earned every inch of respect, and every inch of her thigh circumference, the old-fashioned way. She worked for it, all day every day. Runaan does the same thing. He might have half a foot of height on her, but he trains like the world will crush him if he’s not perfect. And that’s very Moonshadow assassin in its own right, because it will, and it tried. Tiadrin knew what she needed. And she knew what Runaan, soft boy that he is, needed. And she made sure she trained it into him, all day every day.

Tiadrin is one of the reasons that Runaan survived the fight in Harrow’s chamber. She made him the fighter he is, the person he is, and that was just enough to pull him through... so he could see his own mentor trapped in a coin. Yay, thanks Viren.

Theory Part II: Runaan’s squad was made up of all the elves Tiadrin has personally trained, or trained by proxy.

If Tiadrin was Runaan’s trainer and mentor, then her honor was his honor. And when she supposedly faltered and fled at the Storm Spire, that suddenly cast him, as an individual assassin and as the current assassin leader, in a terrible light. If his mentor was a coward, what did she teach him? Would he also duck and run when things got hopeless, and abandon his duty?

The doubt that must’ve swirled around him when the village learned the terrible news about Lain and Tiadrin must’ve sliced right through him. Thousand-yard stare, biggest internal Oh No ever. Runaan lives to serve his people, and to have them doubt him, after all he has done to train them and protect them from harm, would be the worst kind of pain. He had to make it right.

But not just him. Assassins seem to take solo missions even for their first kill, if Eljaal’s covered shoulders are any indication. You can Moonshadow your feels if you don’t have to watch your friend kill someone, if you don’t have anyone watching while you stab someone to death. You can pretend it’s all serene and just and smooth and valid and honorable. You can hold to your love of life and dance right past your embrace of death, if no one else sees it. But Runaan’s mission had 6 members. They were definitely going to have to watch each other murder people. Why?

Tiadrin’s honor was their honor. An extended family of brothers, sisters, cousins, fosterlings, anyone who was drawn to Tiadrin, or her to them, bonded together over their family feels and protective instincts. They were family. And then their leader fell, her honor crushed.

They had to make it right.

They all carried Tiadrin’s honor with their own, taught by her personally, regarded as honorable assassins. Until she seemed to have a fatal flaw in her character. Then everyone wondered if that flaw got passed down, too. The assassins had to prove that it hadn’t been, for the sake of their people, and for all of Xadia who trusted them to take out threats in the dark. They had to go set right Tiadrin’s “mistake” and take Harrow for Zym’s death. All of them. Every single one, no exceptions.

No exceptions. That’s why Rayla had to go, too. Tiadrin taught Runaan everything he knew about being an assassin, and when she moved to the Storm Spire, Runaan dutifully passed Rayla’s mother’s teachings to Rayla herself, feeling like part of the family, an essential connection between mother and daughter, between assassin mentor and mentee. He tried to get it just right, just perfect, so Rayla would feel like she’d been trained by her actual mom as much as possible. Not just because Tiadrin was Rayla’s mother, but because Runaan respects Tiadrin’s prowess so much. She was the best, and every bit of Runaan’s efforts to be his best reflects his respect for her.

You don’t get to be the assassin leader unless you’re the best there is. Runaan knows that from both sides. And just like Tiadrin did with him, he does his best to teach Rayla everything she needs to stay safe and alive, so she can do her duty too, and come home safe to her family every day.

And, in the end, part of that duty had to be avenging her mentor’s mentor, her own mother, by accompanying Runaan on his mission. Her lessons were from Tiadrin, one step removed. If there was a flaw in her training, no one would trust her when it was her turn to lead the assassins, and she’s not even done training yet! Rayla understood Moonshadow honor, assassin honor. She was driven to ask Runaan to take her with him, and he could see exactly where she was coming from. Their honor was tangled up with Tiadrin’s. They couldn’t back out. They had to go to Katolis, them and everyone else Tiadrin had trained.

That’s why the binding ribbons came out. They were in a do-or-die situation, in the most literal sense.

They could not go home in failure. If they all failed, it would take out a whole line of assassin training, possibly the same one that had lasted for countless generations (okay maybe we can count them and there are like 30) and crush the Moonshadows’ spirits. And they’d literally rather die than see that happen. They were all ready to give their lives to restore Tiadrin’s honor, and their own, because without her legacy, there would be such a crater in the assassin corps that it might never recover.

Yes, this is basically my angsty “Runaan’s found family went into battle together and most of them died” headcanon again, but this time with a solid theory behind it. I’m not sorry. I love this angsty idea, it’s horrible. Do you see the cycle of trauma? I’ve got one more part to add, which may make it clearer.

Theory Part III: Assassin leaders always go serve at the Storm Spire once they successfully train their own replacement.

In this theory’s version of Why Laindrin Went To The Storm Spire, Tiadrin was always going to end up at the Storm Spire, once she became the assassin leader. That’s where the veteran assassin leader goes, see, to liaison between the dragon throne and the current Moonshadow leader. They know the assassins’ skills far better than any Skywings or dragons do, and they know the leader in charge of them, so they can give guidance or direction as needed, or simply phrase the Dragon King or Queen’s request in such language that the assassin leader knows intuitively what really needs to be done.

Yeah, Tiadrin writing Runaan mission directives. I can see it.

Tiadrin’s mentor would’ve left for the Spire when Tiadrin got promoted to leader. The person she trusted most in the world, who had trained her, left her behind, only to communicate by long distance. Moonshadow deniability, amirite--we’re not stabbing people, we’re sending tactical correspondence, yep that’s it. But Tiadrin was still surrounded by Runaan and the other young assassins, and she bonded with them all, and life was bright.

Then, the shadow came once again. Runaan was an excellent student, and she knew he was ready. Maybe she delayed, and delayed, Moonshadowing her reasons. Maybe she wanted the chance to bring life into the world, to try to balance out some of the death she had dealt. Maybe she wanted a few more years of domestic life in the Silvergrove with all her favorite elves, to bolster her heart for the years to come. Maybe her mentor at the Spire was up to shenaniganry in dragon politics and she wanted to buy them more time to lay those plans in place.

Knowing Tiadrin even the slightest bit, I will assume it was all this and more. But eventually, she couldn’t put things off any longer. She had to go fulfill her duty to the dragon throne and join the Dragonguard as the representative of the Moonshadow assassins who had bound themselves to the protection of Xadia long ago. She had to walk away from her bright life, her family, her friends, her allies, and climb up into that misty stone tower, to spend who knows how long away from everything she knew and loved.

And she did. She chose to walk away, for love of Xadia. She took her beloved husband with her, but she left the Silvergrove, Xadia’s protection, and her own daughter’s upbringing in the hands of the elf she chose to replace her. The soft boy she’d taught to stab, who would teach her baby girl to stab, too.

Because this is The Way.

I know I’ve had an angsty headcanon that assassins don’t retire. But, consider this: maybe one of them can. One of Tiadrin’s many plans could have been counting on Runaan’s extreme prowess and devotion to Rayla. If Tiadrin knew that she could return to the Silvergrove in peace and retire there with Lain once Runaan trained Rayla to take his place as the assassin leader, then she could live in the Silvergrove again for the rest of her life, and also get to see Rayla grown big and strong and become the assassin leader herself, another proud elf in a long line of honor and tradition. She might feel that was a big accomplishment, considering the dangers they all face. And it would be.

Yes, this would hinge on the fact that Runaan would have to leave the Silvergrove to replace Tiadrin at the Storm Spire, to serve as Rayla’s liaison to the dragon throne. Cycles of trauma, remember? Tiadrin can’t have all of her family back in one place, ever again. She has to love and train someone enough to put them through the life that she’s having to live, and she has to be strong enough not to let that break her. And then, she has to choose between them. She chose Runaan first, so that she could hope to choose Rayla later. She trusted him with all the future happiness of her heart. And he did his best with it.

But they didn’t quite make it, in the end, because of Viren.

I know this has been a lot of angst. I know. But there is a moonlit lining to this theory, and I think we all need to consider it. If there is a cycle of taking the assassin leader out of the Silvergrove to serve the dragon throne for ancient promise reasons, then if that ancient promise is ever rescinded or redressed in an effective way, the family won’t need to keep yeeting loved ones out of its orbit. And if assassins cease to be a necessary evil as a result, then no one will have to leave, or stab, again. At least, not for the same angsty reasons. They could stay together and never need to leave again.

It won’t be easy to break such a cycle. It might be impossible. But if anyone can manage it, it’ll be Tiadrin, and her family.

extra headcanon for this theory:

Tiadrin, packing up for the Storm Spire: One last thing, Runaan.

Runaan, stoically attentive because what are feels on the day your mentor leaves you: Yes, Tiadrin?

Tiadrin: Ethari will need to pick an apprentice to replace him, too. He should start looking now.

Runaan: Why? Only the Silvergrove’s Master Craftsman gets to pick an apprentice, and Ethari isn’t--

Tiadrin: *wink” Not yet, he’s not.

Runaan: Tiadrin, please, what have you done?

Tiadrin: I want to come back here someday, Runaan. I want to see your good work with Rayla. And I can’t do that if you flat-out refuse to leave your husband when Avizandum calls for you to replace me. So he needs to be ready to leave, too.

Runaan: I, I, I would nev-- I couldn’t--

Tiadrin: *patting his shoulder briskly as she strides out* Mmhmm, sure thing, kid. The council votes him in next Thursday. Be good while I’m gone! I want to find this place exactly the way I’m leaving it. Lain, honey, get your coat!

Lain, in the next room: Yes, Tiadrin!

Runaan, soft-eyed, to the silence in her wake: Yes, Tiadrin.

[citialiin]

THE POSITIVE & NEGATIVE; Mun & Muse - Meme.

fill out & repost ♥ This meme definitely favors canons more, but I hope OC’s still can make it somehow work with their own lore, and lil’ fandom of friends & mutuals. Multi-Muses pick the muse you are the most invested in atm. tagged by: @forseenclade thank you ! man i am so bad at doing memes.  tagging: @blossomingbeelzebug @zhrets @lupichorous @dansiere yayayayayayayaya

My muse is:   canon / oc / au / canon-divergent / fandomless / complicated [ z/iggy stardust is DEFINITELY not my original character, but 683 is, and every single part of how i rp ziggy from his backstory to his personality was made up by me. that being said, ziggy is still a character that exists in media. ]

Is your character popular in the fandom?  YES / NO. [ im pretty sure ziggy is tied with the thin white duke as one of b*wie’s most famous fictional personas? ]

Is your character considered hot™ in the fandom?  YES ? / NO / IDK.

Is your character considered strong in the fandom?  YES / NO / IDK.

Are they underrated?  YES / NO / IDK. [ maybe a little overrated ]

Were they relevant for the main story?  YES / NO.

Were they relevant for the main character?  YES / NO / THEY’RE THE PROTAG.

Are they widely known in their world?  YES / NO.

How’s their reputation?  GOOD / BAD / NEUTRAL. [ celebrity rock god of limitless talent vs inevitable overrated washup. most celebrities are polarizing anyways ]

How strictly do you follow canon?  — there isnt much canon to go off of i think? the album barely even states if ziggy is an alien and b*wie himself got really wishy washy about it (sometimes saying z is a human who was contacted by aliens, he was an alien himself, etc). i dont think we know anything about him besides what he looks like (red hair / weird eyes / pale / “well hung” lmao) and he has a band called the spiders from mars, he plays the guitar left handed, he’s bisexual + androgynous, and he’s charming and popular with the teens but inevitably is a victim of his own ego. and he dies.  that too.  but that’s literally it! we know Nothing else about him.  so i filled in all the gaps because my brain has worms.  theres a little bit of the story that verges on fantasy (that he’s some sort of messiah messenger for “the infinites,” whatever the fuck THAT means, david) so i nix that because i prefer hard scifi.  and theres one BIG part that i just ... deleted out of his canon, in that the world is ending in 5 years in his timeline, and he’s like ... aware of this ?  but that’s dumb and confusing.  i legit dont care anymore. my OC now.

SELL YOUR MUSE! Aka try to list everything, which makes your muse interesting in your opinion to make them spicy for your mutuals.  —  im so embarrassed i know i could be genuine and actually try but i have brain blockajjolajlakala33lak33klak333ak3jka3akjj323j3 i guess it’s like ... ziggy is truly the ultimate expression OF humanity because he reveals everything both wrong and right about the human condition, he literally embodies the best of humanity and the worst at the same time, he’s a really interesting critique on the idea of genuineness/earnestness vs commercalism in art, the perils of fame, and also how humans are so inherently corrupting?  a lot of thematic stuff i like exploring is like what is innate to humans vs what is learned behavior, what are things that humans do naturally that ziggy mimics out of his desire to be like us?  i think he has a really good story arc -- he went from being a literal nameless CLONE in a society full of pragmatic forward thinking science-oriented people to a sell out rockstar celebrity in a society of people that value individualism and self expression and art, but in the process completely lost his mind and himself and gave into the worst that humanity has to offer like rampant selfishness, drug abuse, self destructive tendencies, etc. characters changing is always interesting and ziggy truly changes for the worse -- but he is never just black and white, he was never good and then suddenly evil, he just was always the same person putting on different facades and trying to be himself by constructing an identity that maybe was who he wanted to be versus who he actually is.  i dont know what im talking about. hes just an alien trying to be too hard to be human in all the wrong ways.   i just like how “gray” ziggy is. he isnt good or bad, he can be very nice and he can be very mean, he’s overtly showboating confident but at the same time deeply afflicted with self-consciousness (why tf else would anyone be So obsessed with how they present themselves?).  hes an icon of individualism but also commercialism.  he’s freakishly alien but is almost more human than humans themselves.  he struggles as lot in his head -- which makes for interesting writing, i guess !!  Im so emabrrased im not going to go back and read what i wrote so if i typoed dont look at me

Now the OPPOSITE, list everything why your muse could not be so interesting (even if you may not agree, what does the fandom perhaps think?).  —  i think ziggy comes across as really mean and nothing else.  his horrible bitchy rudeness comes across as hee hee hoo hoo sassy isnt he a rascal when it’s supposed to be more like ... he’s so far gone into the celebrity delusion he’s conflated aggressive rudeness with charmingness because no one told him otherwise and everyone worships him to the point where he’s just given into the delusion that he can do no wrong.  i think theres the general simplification problem that happens with a lot of fictional characters, it’s easy to see him as just a whacky sassy glittery quirky rockstar when i guess it avoids the inherent tragedy of like ... everything else about him. his totally fake and false sense of identity built up from superficial things like fame and labels and stardom.  maybe my version of ziggy is just too weirdly depressing and sad when i know his original iteration wasn’t quite so ... grim.  im not very sure tbh.  

What inspired you to rp your muse?  —  hmmm ... a lot of things! i just really got into b*wie stuff in early 2019, i’ve ALWAYS loved aliens and sci-fi, and i was really shocked that db sets up such great visual storytelling potential but does it through music.  i just really liked ziggys “story” and i like any chance to think about aliens so i just got invested into piecing together a little backstory for him using, like, the cumulative knowledge of literally every other piece of science fiction ive ever consumed in my life.  this was summer 2019 when i was making initial pitches for my thesis film, and so i just randomly decided to pitch “animated version of ziggy stardust” as one of the potential ideas.  shockingly everyone liked it a lot and so did my professor who thought it was really cool, and then i just ended up sticking with the character and working on him for an entire year.  ziggy became my hobby but also my homework.  he was such a fun character because everything about him was interesting to me and i had just enough source material to have a starting point but so much room to take him in any direction i wanted to.

What keeps your inspiration going?  —  honestly, yooooou guyssssss. i have some really amazing fwends that ive met thru here .... and some of our dumb stupid stories have literally become NOVEL length. it just self generates inspiration because you realize the limitless amount of stories you could tell with this one single character when your character enters his story or he enters their story and etc. etc.  ive drawn endless amounts of comics and stuff for him ... ziggy is just so endlessly interesting ...   cringe be cringed bro but recently (i know this sounds dumb bear with me or die.) ive kind of realized a lot of how i rp z comes as some metaphor for the experience of being an asian immigrant/being asian in the US -- his home “culture” is a lot stricter than the rampant selfish individualism of the usa (he only lives in the uk and usa, so he thinks the whole planet is like this), he’s dissuaded from standing out from his community and his selfishness becomes a community burden rather than a personal flaw, and when he does come to earth, he goes through such awful culture shock, literally nothing makes sense to him and everything is Different.  and while some things are different in a Nice way, something things are different in an Awful way, and he’s given the option between losing his true personal identity as an atominan and giving it up to be a human.  the allure of being a human is a little too much but losing yourself like this is traumatic, in a way.  obvs like ... a little silly and definitely not something that i actively intended to put into his story arc, its just something that fell into place cuz i guess i worked so closely with my own personal experiences and feelings of “alienation” (pun intended) to try to understand how he would feel being a literal alien an shid. its cathartic to write about him. but he also has a lot of my own personal interests just thrown in -- 70s fashion, scifi, science, tryhard implications about human nature, art history, whatever dumb nonsense i get into

Some more personal questions for the mun.

Give your mutuals some insight about the way you are in some matters, which could lead them to get more comfortable with you or perhaps not.

Do you think you give your character justice?  YES / NO / SOMETIMES?

Do you frequently write headcanons?  YES / NO  [ i would prefer information to spring up organically in the story but cuz threads always get dropped i end up just telling people outright. i didnt want anyone to know his home planet/his old name but barely anyone writes enough with ziggy to get to that point to reveal it (i legit managed to do it organically Once) so i just had to write it in a post lmao orz ]

Do you sometimes write drabbles?  YES / NO [ wrote a ton of drabbles ! drew a ton of comics! ]

Do you think a lot about your Muse during the day? YES / NO 

Are you confident in your portrayal?   YES / NO / I DUNNO?

Are you confident in your writing?  YES / HAHA NO.

Are you a sensitive person?  YES  / NO. / IDK ? 

Do you accept criticism well about your portrayal?  —  definitely!  like i said ... my version of ziggy ended up being the protag of my thesis film and for 1 yr straight his characterization, backstory, design, and even how i wanted to animate his fucking movements (ziggy stardust timing charts.) were beaten to death in a classroom environment, torn apart and rebuilt into something better.  had i stayed with what i originally wanted to go with, ziggy would be so different than how i write him 2day. amazingly my pre production professor is a literal two time emmy award winning storyboard artist and animator so he definitely helped me design him (my version of ziggy is meant for ... a cartoon, obviously, not real life) and give him a better backstory?  and my post production professor is a retired disney animator who worked on hercules and a bunch of old disney channel shows?  had i gone wah wah wah i dont want to hear ur critiques i wouldnt have made him better.  if you ever think ziggy seems inconsistent or poorly written ... tell me !! i literally major in ... animation. cartoons. entertainment.  my job is to entertain you. if you are not entertained, there is a problem.  ARE YOU NOT ENTERTAINED ????

Do you like questions, which help you explore your character?  —  I LOVE QUESTIONS? i love ... answering questions ... if you ask me something ill come kiss you.

If someone disagrees to a headcanon of yours, do you want to know why?  —  sure! i dont know why that would happen, though, because i mean ... he’s an OC. but i gues someone could be like “i feel like this is incongruous to things you’ve previously established in his character” or somethin

If someone disagrees with your portrayal, how would you take it?  —  i feel like a lot of b*wie stans would find my version of ziggy weird but i mean thats fine!  i guess my goal is to have a well written character, not necessarily an accurate version of ziggy

If someone really hates your character, how do you take it?  —  if you hate MY version of ziggy thats fine but if u hate ziggy stardust in general (like the bowie concept) then u need some taste what the fuck is cooler than a egomaniac genderless bisexual rockstar alien with red hair? nothing. go back to watching your CW shows you dirty filthy normie

Are you okay with people pointing out your grammatical errors?  —  yes! dm me though. dont clown me on the dash like that.  i usually write your replies 12 AM - 4 AM so it’s expected.

Do you think you are easy going as a mun?   —  hmmm ... maybe! i do like to talk to people and i am VERY nice, trust me, if youre ever sad ill do everything i can to make you feel better. but im quiet! i dont really reach out to people and i tend to just keep to myself.  im not very social or extroverted at all haha i barely can make ooc posts without feeling like god’s coming to beat my head in with a brick. im sitting here at 5:30 AM with this meme feeling like if i post it i will die (BUT I MUST)

[if-i-want-to-dance]

Dance with Devils headcanons for the boys with an S/O who has no fashion sense

I mean we’ve seen these guys’ fashion choices for the school dance are we really sure they have good taste themselves? lol except for Roen and I guess Shiki gets a pass too (I can’t believe SHIKI of all people looked somewhat normal)

Rem

-He doesn’t want to say anything but he doesn’t get how smart as you are can’t see just how bad a fashion choice your outfit was.

-Appearances are pretty important to Rem, and he doesn’t like the thought that people would judge you for your appearance alone when there are so many wonderful things about you.

-He first tries giving you some clothes as a gift, something he saw in a store that made him “think of you”, and hoping you’ll wear them.

-If that doesn’t work, he’ll eventually sit you down and talk with you about it, explaining as nicely as possible that he doesn’t want people to look at you badly for how you dress. Where it goes from there is really up to you.

Urie

-This will not do. At all.

-He doesn’t say anything at first because he doesn’t want to hurt your feelings, but are you blind??? How can you not see how badly those two colors clash????

-He tries making nice suggestions while you’re deciding what to say, and laying on the flattery thick. “Oh, Butterfly, while that red shirt would look so good on you, don’t you think you might do better to pair it with the black skirt than with the green one?”

-Appearances are quite important to Urie so he’s not willing to overlook it entirely.

Mage

-He really does not care all that much. It’s not like he knows a lot about it himself or anything.

-If you ask him for advice, he’ll do his best to give you advice, but, again, he doesn’t know a lot about it.

-Still, at some point, he might drag you off somewhere to go shopping (a bit like he did with Ritsuka, but with more agreement on your part) and get some advice for you on what to wear with whatever you bought. 

Shiki

-He literally does not care. At all.

-He might tease you about it, though, telling you how bad the colors look together when he feels like hurting your feelings a bit.

-If he catches someone staring at today’s horrible combination, he puts an arm around your shoulders and gives them a glare. He’s the only one allowed to hurt your feelings. Anyone who’s dumb enough to actually make comments is going to regret it later.

Lindo

-He wants you to dress in a way you like, but sometimes he just looks at your choices and cringes.

-He doesn’t say anything, but gently tries to encourage you to make better choices with how you dress. If you insist on sticking with your poor choices, he won’t make a big deal out of it.

-He doesn’t know much about it, but he does a bit of research so he can help you figure out what works best for you.

Roen

-Roen’s pretty up front with you about it once your relationship starts. He’s nice but firm with you about it.

 -If you’re going out together, he offers you advice on what he thinks would look good together and he’s actually pretty good at that kind of thing.

-He might come across as controlling in this aspect, but he really means well. He doesn’t want people to look at you and think less of you as a person for it. Which, yes, is a very shallow thing to do, but people still do it and he doesn’t want it to happen to you.

[signals-over-the-air]

general modern newsies headcanons (college and after, roll with it)

spot is a cat person, has a black cat named mr. spook that he allowed race to name

at one point in college race and al adopt 3 ferrets named jack, jackson, and jackary (I hc that jack hates ferrets so they would name them after him to spite him)

crutchie has a big dog, like an australian shepard or smth

mush has a smol gray bunny named noodles and blink is slightly allergic but hides that behind Lots of benadryl so his boy is happy

jack has a fish named scott

davey has a corn snake named Hezekiah after his favorite Israeli king

race is that one kid who always asks for a pen. it could be a computers-only engineering class and he’d ask you for a pen. when he does have pens, they’re glitter pens

spot in college would pick up dance and it would be like a billy elliot type thing where he realizes how it really makes him feel like himself, co-captains the extra curricular dance team w race

after not sleeping for 3 days, jack accidentally heats up paint water instead of coffee and is walking around drinking that for like 30 min before tommy boy asks for a sip of coffee and spits it out in disgust and horror

al penny boards everywhere. I like al as an engineer/mechanic, after he gets yelled at for having his board on the floor next to him in class al creates a mechanism that alloes him to strap the board to his back like a backpack, but it just goes over one shoulder

davey majors in archeology and anthropology with a minor in jewish studies and sociology and studies abroad in Israel, is super involved at his hillel

crutchie is the sound tech for a lot of the productions they do. he doesn’t major in it, he just does it for fun, but if he sees you eating with your mic on he’ll smack you with his forearm crutches (which jack has painted to look like a sunset) ((think the red-orange backdrop in santa fe prologue))

buttons does costume design for major broadway shows, loves working on period pieces because of the research involved

blink and mush are in the medical field— blink is an ER doctor and mush is a nurse in a children’s ward

romeo works at a fashion magazine

specs is an optometrist (like his trading card says)

also spec’s fashion sense is abysmal and romeo has to shop with him or he’ll end up with neon yellow socks and a red and orange and green polka dot hoodie

spot is a children’s therapist specifically for kids in the foster care system, sometimes works with jack to put together art therapy sessions for them

kath is a blogger reporter and lighting tech (thanks @papesdontsellthemselves for that one)

okay so spot usually dresses pretty nice but chill, usually goes for reds and oranges, probably a leather jacket (black), red button down, slim black tie, dark, fitted, jeans with black dress shoes

looks killer in a sports jacket

he’s 100% red and black flannels with black or red tank underneath, fitted black jeans, and converse topped with a beanie on his days off

race is, as always, a fuckboy on weekends (think BTC)

at work, he usually does pastel button downs (prolly lavender or light blue) and black dress pants paired with a sports jacket and his glasses

al, in his 20s-30s, opens up an auto shop

so he usually has on a wife beater and some cargo pants (or khakis depending on if he’s in the office or in the physical shop that day), always has some grease smudged on his face, when he’s in the shop he has a bandana around his head (blue) and he keeps a flannel with him when it’s super cold

wears his tool belt slung low on his hips and is a slut for a nice pair of timbs

is definitely the type of person to keep his flannel tied around his waist

if not wearing the bandana, he has a deep green snapback on (backwards) or a soft grey beanie spot bought him for a present in college (they’re super close)

jack sticks to blues and blacks, but also has horrible fashion sense

will wear all denim and cowboy boots if left to his own devices

davey hates it

davey, when not on digs, wears button downs (usually cream or pale yellow) under a brown sweater

usually paired with darker jeans or dress pants and a pair of beat up converse

always always always wears his glasses

romeo dresses p androgenyous— will wear skirts and crop tops, lots of fun patterns

if he has to look formal for an interview or something, his go-to look is black suit pants, an off-white and gold button down, a grey sports coat, and a few accessories

man LIVES to accessorize

crutchie is a photographer at the same magazine, so he goes with romeo a lot of places

they’re p close

blink and mush at work usually wear typical doctor and nurse uniforms, but on days off they look quite different

blink will wear fun, short-sleeved button downs (his favorite is a navy one with flamingos) and some jeans with work boots

mush is a soft boi™️, usually wears a red beanie, grey sweater (likely stolen from blink) and some lightwash jeans

uh that’s al i’ve got for now, lmk if y’all want more I guess?

[stagekiller]

 @feltcalling​​​  said:  billy, all this holiday stuff got me wantin'.... to ask...….. give us some lila headcanons puh-lease            

me: dumps everything i was doing to respond to this

 for our convenience I have divided the headcanons in three separate categories, starting from least to most sad and ending with a sweet one. :D

First of all: trigger warning for alcoholism and mentions of sexual/physical abuse. Here I wanna state that I personally don’t like demonizing Lila about what she did to the twins. Honestly, to me she reads more as one of those parents who are still children themselves, rather than a malicious woman who went out of her way to hurt her kids on purpose.

 Second, let me start by saying I have this FC for Lila that suits my image of her PERFECTLY but I can’t find more pictures of the woman depicted, because she’s some Greek singer with a very small following. ( sCREams )

                                  lukewarm sad:

  Lila’s aesthetic is opulence. But because she’s poor as dirt, the stuff she chooses to ‘decorate’ her home with are usually really cheap bling bling that she finds at street bazaars. Because she’s very lonely and emotionally numb, she likes to fill her house with shiny things she can look at and delude herself with. 

  She wears really heavy perfume and accessorizes a lot ( her fingers are practically covered in rings at all times ) . Lila dresses in a very sexualized fashion, without any real sense of what’s aesthetically pleasing. Her clothes are cheap and sometimes... don’t really fit her. ( Jerome fatshames her on the regular for this ) A thing that says a lot about her psyche is that, even though she’s always enveloped in this ‘nice’, extravagant wrapping, her body is very neglected. She’s a bit on the plump side, but because of her age + malnutrition + lack of exercise, it makes her look wrinkly and lumpy ( yes she has neck wrinkles and that’s actually canon )

  Lila will drink pretty much anything available and she often starts drinking in the morning. The smell of booze plus cologne is an especially revolting one, coupled with the fact she smokes as well. When she eats, it’s usually really low quality junk food, save for the times Zachary would bring something home from work for them.

Lila isn’t a horrible cook. When the twins were younger she could cook up a decent goulash. She knows some Russian ‘mom’ recipes, passed down from one generation to the other, but, as she grew up next to Zachary herself and he would most often take care of the kitchen, she’s not very experienced. As time goes by and she descends further in her addictions, Lila stops cooking or buying groceries all together and starts eating outside by herself, leaving no option for her sons but to learn how to prepare their own meals.

Lila and Sheba (the snake)  spend a lot of time together during work and often in the house as well. It’s not unusual for Lila to have forgotten Sheba in the caravan and the snake to have nested in a pile of dirty laundry. Fortunately for everyone in that trailer Sheba has a very calm temper and is accustomed to humans handling her. Lila, despite being the one to handle her most, leaves the ‘gross’ parts ( such as feeding, cleaning the cage ) of being her owner to her sons instead.

               pretty damn sad:

 Contrary to popular belief, Lila doesn’t have an explosive temper. When she’s sober; she’s actually rather catatonic.  She throws fits, of course, especially under the influence, but unless drunk she’s not likely to pick a fight. It is Jerome who antagonizes her 25/7 and Lila’s prefered method to deal with it has always been going to Zachary and crying about how horrible Jerome is so that Uncle Zach would reprimand him. However, she’s not above throwing things at him during her fits ( their caravan looks like a mess all the time ) and she’s been physically abusive towards both twins when they were younger. Growing up it became harder for her to beat Jerome up because he could fight back. But she can get creative sometimes, much like her brother, and, say, grab the clothing iron to slap him with.

 Lila doesn’t refer to Jerome as her son. She’s stopped doing so ever since Jerome was in primary school. He calls him by his first name. When Jerome does something ( or Lila thinks he does something ) to Jeremiah, Lila tells him things along the lines of  “ Stay away from my son! ” as if he’s a stranger. Jerome doesn’t call her mother either. Around other people he will most often refer to her as simply ‘her’ or with an insult and when addressing her he doesn’t use any particular name. Just ‘you’. She’s much closer with Jeremiah, however, probably because he doesn’t antagonize her.

really sad tbh:

  She and Uncle Zachary are too close to each other, with Zachary being very controlling towards her ( a behavior Jerome later on displays towards his brother, in imitation ). But Lila, through the years, has developed a dependence on him. He is her big brother, who will take care of things for her when she’s in trouble etc etc. Zachary is also rather possessive of Lila; he likes to know the guys she sleeps with and has often acted as a pimp to her in the past. Clearly he doesn’t care about what she does to make ends meet, but he does stick his greasy hands in her earnings under the excuse of ‘she’s not responsible enough to handle them herself’.

  In the past Cicero had not only shown her some genuine affection, he had also helped her financially. But there’s a darker side to that, because Lila wasn’t genuinely attracted to him. In a sense, he groomed her. And when she realized that, she felt deeply ashamed - though not ashamed enough to stop sleeping with him immediately. These days, however, she seems to avoid him as much as she can.

sweet :

 One of the few ‘family traditions’ Lila has with her sons consists of gathering in front of the TV and watching soap operas together. Jerome and Jeremiah would most often be comfortably snuggled up together besides her as kids. Growing up, Miah would sit next to their mom as a separating barrier between her and Jerome. They don’t talk during the soaps, but they do call each other when the show starts. After Miah leaves the home, the tradition slowly begins to fade.

EDIT : forgot to mention that the soaps headcanon came up in a convo with @/craftedsanity. I don’t remember if it was him or me who came up with it, so, to give credit where credit is due we’re gonna say it was him. But it’s such a good headcanon I couldn’t help it and I’ve incorporated it to the backstory ok, don’t judge me I like bittersweet things. :D 

[rexcellente]

I can't decide between Rex and Citrus or Rex and Pippap so ALL THREE??? I believe in you--!

Name: SunnyGender: Male

Personality: The name says it all. He’s very bubbly and just an overall sunny disposition. He always brightens up the room no matter where he goes.

Skills inherited: he gets his love of puns from both parents. he... eats lemons with the peel still on.. he gets his artistic skills from rex

Who they like better: he cant pick just one, but he spends more time with Citrus.

Who they take after more: He takes after Citrus more look wise

Personal headcanon: Sunny loves to learn stuff. Doesnt matter what it is. His room is filled to the brim with books,  all kinds of books; joke books, science books, ect.

Appearance: see above

Name: Stea

Gender: Male

Personality: hes really laxed, but has a horrid temper. He’s quick to get into tussles with other kids at school, especially if hes trying to stick up for his friends.

Skills inherited: He’s has really strong green magic that he got from Pippap, but Rex’s horrible sense in fashion.

Who they like better: Stea tends to lean more towards Rex, mainly because Rex cant ever tell him no.

Who they take after more: Stea takes after Pippap in facial appreance and height, but has Rex’s personality, temper included.

Personal headcanon: When he cant get something right he tends to throw a fit and give up until he cools off to try somemore. This is a cycle that happens until he finally gets it and he refuses help from his parents wanting to have the independence of doing it himsefl.

Appearance: see above

[lemontrash]

Remember that 2x5 bath headcanon?

I did the thing. :L 

Warnings; Duo swears a lot. Not Explicit, but probably NSFW either. Prods fun  horrible old-fashioned bathrooms. For that 4X cinema experience, read this in the bath whilst playing some rain noise in the background, and ideally also that of a blackbird singing. 

____

The tub is one of those poxy western ones, too shallow to sink to the ears in, and too short to stretch out in fully. Wufei has an honest struggle to understand why a culture would have adopted the damn things with such prolific consistency. It’s like as a whole, England has taken the concept of bathing to heart, and yet utterly missed the whole damn point.

Still, beggars can’t be choosers.

And at least there isn’t carpet. The last place they’d had to put up had had carpet throughout, including the ensuite; a fact that still gave Wufei a creepy feeling of uncleanliness.

London was brisk today. There was a sharp bite in the air, which could mean that summer is over, or could just be yet another of the climatological bait-and-switches these islands seem fond of. Wufei has given up trying to figure the seasons here.

The bath takes an age to fill, and it demands some very focussed knob twiddling to work out the exact combination of both taps to get the water temperature right as it splutters from the mixer. But it fills, and it fills hot, throwing up steam to obscure the windows and make the room pleasantly warm compared to the chill of the rest of the house. The radiator he has folded his towel over churns out additional heat, chasing the cold from his bones.

Outside, of course, it is raining again. A pathetic, tepid sort of rain that has persisted on and off all day, and which at first glance, Wufei had underestimated. It hadn’t appeared quite enough rain to warrant the thicker jacket or anything as much as an umbrella.

Which is why he’d come home looking thoroughly bedraggled and soggy in unreasonable places.

Hence the bath.

When the tub is brimming nearly to the overflow, he turns off the taps and shrugs out of his bathrobe. He sinks into the water, wincing at the heat, elbows and ass squeaking against the plastic as he settles. If he sits with his knees poking out of the water and arms propped on the edges, he can sink up to his collarbone and rest his head on the back of the bath, and it’s very nearly perfect.

And it helps if he closes his eyes.

In his head, the water stained ceiling doesn’t exist, and neither does the ailing spider plant straggling down the side of the medicine cabinet. The verdigris on the mirror does not exist, and the cracked tiles and the shaggy, silly, little mat beside the toilet - all of it can be neatly ignored and replaced with something better.

The tap drips and the gentle hiss of rain; the smell of it through the open window; hint at a retreat somewhere far away. Outside there could be greenery instead of concrete, and birds other than the letcherous, leprous pigeons that seem to be everywhere in London. If he really works at it, he can almost transport himself back to the bathhouse of his childhood home.

The rattle of a passing freight train is a bit off putting, but he rewrites it into the narrative as one of L5’s industrial units, moved a bit closer to the house.

Harder to write in is the slam of the front door. A crease forms between Wufei’s brows and with a mounting sense of time running out, he tries to force himself to relax.

Boots stomping, accompanied by cursing. Both progress right past the bathroom door to the bedroom, where one by one the boots thud against the floor as they are discarded, followed by the boom of a rucksack tossed against the chair in the corner. Wufei’s frown deepens. That damn chair’s going to leave a mark on the wall and Wufei is categorically not going to explain that to the landlord.

No chance.

More swearing. The metallic ring of keys abandoned on the bed and then a whole minute of near silence, which if anything makes Wufei more tense. He takes a deep breath and counts down, and doesn’t hit zero before Duo makes a strangled noise of exasperation and the footsteps come stomping to his door.

“Fucking morons!” Duo says, shouldering the door open and coming in. He shoves it closed with his foot and thunks his ass down on the closed lid of the toilet. “You would not fucking believe the day I have had.” He swigs angrily from the can of soda he’s clasping, which he has already half crushed in his fist.

“So get this, I’m going through their system, right? And-“

Wufei lets the finer details of Duo’s carping blur into mere noise. He let’s it wash over him as an ongoing ‘blah-blah-blah’ interspersed with the bits he actually has to listen to, allowing Wufei to apply his attention to more interesting matters, like topping up the hot water by manipulating the tap with his toes. And it’s only a petty issue anyway. If Duo were really angry, he wouldn’t be making such a melodrama of it. He’d have come in with grim silence and a decision already made or a body he needed help hiding

“And then at lunch, which they made me fucking late for with all of this bullshit, who turns up but fucking Steven Henson, and he’s like ‘oh, I heard they were changing out the blah blah blah blah-“

Wufei leans his cheek on his shoulder and watches only the nuances of Duo’s rant. In some ways it’s remarkable how much Duo is able to conceal about himself. His face is a flickering reel of minute expressions. Some are mimicry as he relates things other people have said, and others mere visual punctuation to his dialogue, but others run deeper. He’s expressive with his hands, playing out meaning in the air that is sometimes a different conversation to the one that is audible. Point in case, he’s in the middle of expounding how Henson is a fucking idiot who couldn’t find his own arse with both hands and a diagram, but he’s pulling on his lower lip, which is a habit Wufei has learned that Duo only does around certain people, and only when privately he’s worried that he’s wrong.

“Are you even listening?”

“I’m tuning in between technical details,” Wufei replies. “Go on.”

Duo rolls his eyes and then drains the last of his soda. He crumples the can up and it bounces loudly against the skirting board when he drops it, making him tsk and curse again, annoyed with himself.

“I just don’t see why it’s so fucking hard to blah blah blah when it’s perfectly fucking obvious that if you don’t blah blah blah blah blah.” Duo’s bitching is temporarily muffled when he drags his sweatshirt off over his head and dumps it on the silly little mat. “I mean, am I on another fucking planet here?”

“Mm.”

“Exactly! And then Sibbald, that little shit, he sends me through the code he’s supposed to have been writing for the past week and a half, and fuck my ass, this shit reads like someone let a toddler pound a brick against a keyboard for an hour. It’s just a complete shitting mess, so I can’t blah blah blah-“

Duo leans forward and rubs the fluff from between his toes, rolling it into little pills. Wufei moves his gaze to the nipped part of Duo’s waist, and tries to still love him through the revulsion.  “Mm,” he says again.

“I know. And no one can find the fucking comma that’s fucked up the whole fucking thing-“ Duo stands, pacing the narrow confines. He leans over the bath, helping himself to one of the sticks holding Wufei’s hair out of the water, and his rant goes muffled around it.

“Don’t bite that.”

“I’mna’,” Duo replies, frowning, twisting his braid up at the back of his neck. “Sho anyway-“ he takes the stick from between his teeth and skewers the braid. “I have to patch together these two sets of code these goddamn clowns have written-“ Duo grunts, jerking the button of his jeans free and dumping both denim and pants on the silly little mat. “And I’m using ‘clowns’ really fucking generously here. And it’s gonna take me fucking hours to fix.”

He hisses as he shoves a foot in the water but doesn’t waste time hesitating.

“Steady,” Wufei warns, hastily tweaking the plug loose to counteract as much of the inevitable slopping as possible. Duo slows, and once settled, eases the plug chain from Wufei’s toes and replaces it.

“So that was my fucking day,” Duo concludes, leaning back. “And it’s raining.”

“I got rained on too. You smell like rain. And cola.”

Duo slides a hand up to pat Wufei’s knee. “How was your day?”

“Mediocre.”

“Aww. Bad?”

“Just mediocre,” Wufei repeats. “It’s improving.”

Duo’s hand squeezes a kneecap turned pink with the heat of the bath. “Oh yeah?”  His cheek crinkles up against Wufei’s. “How’s that?”

“You stopped talking.”

Duo reaches behind him and pinches the first thing he finds, which results in water on the floor after all, and an interesting undulation right against his bare skin that has Duo thinking of other things that might improve the evening.

“Cut that out,” Wufei complains. “I’m trying to relax.”

“Alright, alright. Keep your dick on.” Duo chuckles to himself and settles his head back, likewise tracing the shape of the water stain on the ceiling. “‘m not squishing you too much?”

“I’m good.”

“K.”

Outside a blackbird is singing though the rain still hushes. The tap dribbles suddenly and stops. Wufei mouths the steam that’s dewed on Duo’s temple as the radiator clicks and ticks, and throws out the comforting smell of warm towelling.

“Kind of looks like a hippo,” Duo says, of the water stain, but Wufei isn’t listening. He’s closed his eyes again, and it’s not such a hardship to follow suit. The blackbird ripples on in phrases, steady and sweet, a sound that sweeps across Duo’s thoughts each time they try and form, and so clears them away. Instead he idly rocks his knees a fraction side to side, just to make the water patter against the sides of the tub.

“Mm,” Wufei says, nose against Duo’s ear as he sighs in contentment down the length of his neck.

“Mm,” Duo answers, in agreement.

____

@godofalleyeteeth @fadedsepiascribbles @noirangetrois @outofworkshinigami

@terrablaze514 @chronicwhimsy (though you should DEFINITELY still write this headcanon too if you want to please do) @kangofu-cb @anaranesindanarie @helmistress (Same to you! Please write the thing! More of this thing!) 

[originalcontent]

360/Trevor/394/Ferns/Micycle/Jackie/Enid/108/Snape/Colewort/Socrates/Skip the Dog(2000)/Winter Whirl/A.C.A.B.

@void-deactivated​ You are literally the worst person at sending asks I have ever met, I’m not answering all of these, these aren’t even all characters! Either way. This is gonna get long.

#1: My good ol’ pal 360. I can’t believe you sent me so many real people, I fucking hate this.

What I like about them

Smart and funny.

What I dislike about them

If I want to contact him, it requires effort on my part. How many different communication systems am I expected to keep up with???

Favourite moment

It’s been a while, but our gravel project is pretty timeless.

Least favourite moment

That time he posted a bunch of horrible horrible gifs that I never wanted to see in the first place.

A situation with this character that I want to see explored more

Any situation. It’s been a while, I’d like to see how he’s been doing.

An interesting AU for this character

An au in which he’s trapped in a timeless desert expanse seeking long lost answers to unknown questions. A pirate au would also be fun.

A crossover

Him as a stick figure in the xkcd universe.

OTP (or OT3+ etc…. just… favourite ship)

why

Other ships?

why

BROTP

his friends

NOTP

why

An assortment of headcanons!

He’s secretly really fucking ripped.

Okay, that’s one down.

#2: Trevor

What I like about them

I have great personal, familial attachments to him.

What I dislike about them

My friend doesn’t believe he exists.

Okay we’re done with that one. #3: 394

What I like about them

We have a lot of shared experiences.

What I dislike about them

Her fashion sense.

Favourite moment

Every moment we’re together~~~~

Least favourite moment

That time when I was like “hey there’s this great fruit tree full of fruit you like a block away from your house let me show you” and she went “no too much effort.”

A situation with this character that I want to see explored more

Her writing original content of her own.

An interesting AU for this character

Definitely pirate au.

A crossover

Res scintillula crossover.

OTP (or OT3+ etc…. just… favourite ship)

TW

Other ships?

Jolly P

BROTP

706 or 814 :p

NOTP

:)

An assortment of headcanons!

Also secretly really ripped. Fucking shredded.

#4: Ferns. Are you kidding me?

What I like about them

They’re a nice and pretty plant.

What I dislike about them

No flowers though, and I do love flowers.

Favourite moment

When I was slipping down a cliff earlier this week but I managed to grab onto a sword fern and regain my balance.

Least favourite moment

When I got stuck on one at fal a couple weeks ago when I was trying to be subtle and it rustled a lot.

A situation with this character that I want to see explored more

Urban settings.

An interesting AU for this character

Pirate au.

A crossover

Marsh from Mistborn has one.

OTP (or OT3+ etc…. just… favourite ship)

fern

Other ships?

fern

BROTP

moss and redwood tree

NOTP

eh.

An assortment of headcanons!

Ferns are secretly all government plants.

#5: Miycicle

No.

#6: Jackie. What’s this?? An actual fictional character???????

What I like about them

She feels very down to earth and...I dunno. Real. Especially in contrast with most of the show’s very chaotic kind of tone, she’s a refreshing presence. She’s super sweet and chill and all that.

What I dislike about them

I don’t like how her character was reduced to nothing more than angst for the main pair which I...do not like that much. And how she was immediately written off the show after she’d served that purpose.

Favourite moment

Her “I shouldn’t have asked you to the dance, I should have just asked you on a date” moment. That whole theme of “this is how romance is supposed to be performed” and her going “who cares about that, let’s just do something we can find fun together.”

Least favourite moment

idk she was pretty bland for a lot of her season one moments.

A situation with this character that I want to see explored more

Her with Star, her with Marco, honestly I like seeing her in casual, non-crazy situations. Anything that involves talking about feelings or actual issues. I’d also like for her to actually be shown being upset at how she was treated in that whole dumb love triangle thing.

An interesting AU for this character

Pirate au.

A crossover

I feel she’d fit nicely with the Steven Universe aesthetic.

OTP (or OT3+ etc…. just… favourite ship)

Maybe Star/Jackie

Other ships?

Marco/Jackie, Janna/Jackie

BROTP

Janna. I like how their aesthetics contrast.

NOTP

*shrug*

An assortment of headcanons!

She felt really bad after the events of season 2 even though she never actually showed it onscreen.

#7: Enid

What I like about them

I like how she cares about the people around her.

What I dislike about them

Most of her character falls flat for me tbh. She’s kind of one dimensional and the aspects that are meant to add complexity feel contrived.

Favourite moment

Her and Rad watching KO’s videos together.

Least favourite moment

I hated pretty much everyone in that meta episode where everyone was super ooc.

A situation with this character that I want to see explored more

Her and Rad and their dynamic!

An interesting AU for this character

Pirate au.

A crossover

Nah.

OTP (or OT3+ etc…. just… favourite ship)

Obviously Raymond I mean come on.

Other ships?

I guesssssss Red Action or Rad. But I don’t especially like either of those as ships.

BROTP

Rad.

NOTP

Eh.

An assortment of headcanons!

This whole post is taking forever.

#8: 108

What I like about them

He’s sweet and funny.

What I dislike about them

Sometimes (such as when sending asks, for example) he’s not as funny as he thinks he is.

Favourite moment

That time we found figs together because fuck yes!

Least favourite moment

That time we went back to the same tree and did not find figs.

A situation with this character that I want to see explored more

Posting.

An interesting AU for this character

One in which he doesn’t send terrible asks. Also pirate au.

A crossover

Oh, you know.

OTP (or OT3+ etc…. just… favourite ship)

You know what? I think I’m done with this ask. I think I even went further than I should have with this stupid ass ask, so you’re welcome on that front but maaaaaan I am done with it. I still don’t know why I thought you’d be able to send better asks than 394, god. 

[destiny-islanders]

FFXV x KH Headcanons That I Have But Probably Won’t Doodle Part 3

Part 1 | Part 2

Sora is something else when he’s behind the wheel of a car because he is either at one end of the emotional extreme or the other.

He is the kind of driver who makes sure to thank other drivers on the road for their consideration. If someone lets him switch lanes and get in front of them, he sticks his hand up and waves to them. He also mutters, “Thank you,” even though there’s absolutely no way for the other driver to hear or even see his lips forming the words aw hon

He is also the kind of driver who shows off a very… colorful… vocabulary when he’s dealing with bad drivers. He never drives aggressively– especially not behind the wheel of someone else’s car! But he swears up a storm that even makes Gladio a little uncomfortable. (Don’t tell them to put a rusty tire iron there, Sora…)

While we’re on the subject of Sora in the car, he sits between Noct and Gladio in the backseat

With Sora in the party, Ignis now has TWO stubborn and sleepy boys to drag out of bed each morning

Sora’s Keyblade ex Machina becomes a Thing

No more having to worry about accidentally locking the keys in the car because there’s a boy in the party with the universe’s biggest and dumbest-looking master key

Noctis politely accepting the dungeon key from Ezma even though there is absolutely no need for it with Sora “Yes-by-it-works-on-any-lock-I-MEAN-it-works-on-any-lock.”

Yes this results in the boys facing off against a monster they are nowhere near equipped to handle

Yes Gladio has to drag Sora’s and Prompto’s unconscious bodies all the way back up to the dungeon’s entrance

Yes they go back for revenge once they’ve collectively toughened up

Imagine Sora getting captured by Niffs only to create increasing frustration in their ranks because they literally cannot keep this kid locked in a room

Sora looks forward to getting to meet Lunafreya! :D

Noctis gets frustrated that he can’t talk to Luna more often. Sora suggests he write her a message, stick it in a bottle, and cast it out to sea.

He’s only half joking

Sora getting! So excited! When Noct assures him that of course he can come to the wedding! Sora’s never been to a wedding before! :D :D :D

As their friendship grows stronger, Noct decides to make Sora one of his groomsmen!!!!!

Imagine the bachelor party omfg

Real talk: SORA WOULD CRY AT A WEDDING. HE LOVES TO SEE PEOPLE HAPPY AND IN LOVE!!!!!

The chocobros fearing Sora’s power more than ever when they realize that his hair naturally stands up like that. No hair gel necessary. His hair is just Too Powerful

Prompto is so jealous

Sora sometimes gets really quiet when they’re on the beach at Galdin Quay or Cape Caeum. He sort of spaces out. Just stares out at the horizon with the waves lapping up around his ankles.

Angst under the cut. :O

The Return of the Angst Corner:

In the first year of the long night, Sora tries a number of methods to get in touch with his friends

He tries to summon old friends and encourage them to let Donald, Goofy, etc. know that he’s okay– just stranded in Eos. Genie, Mushu, Peter Pan, all of them. The only way they’ll be able to send the message is if they visit their home worlds, though– not a very good chance of that happening. Still, it’s worth a shot.

He sends a message in a bottle every time he’s near the ocean. He is nearly killed in the waters of Galdin Quay by a Ronin during one of these attempts. He’d been too caught up in making sure the waves carried off the bottle. Careless.

Eventually… he gives up.

It’s worth noting that even when things are at their bleakest, Sora doesn’t lose his kindness or optimism. He is gentle and patient with wary survivors and is usually the one who convinces people hesitant to leave their homes behind to seek refuge in Lestallum.

It’s easy to forget how horrible things are when you’re sitting by the fire with Sora, whose smiles and laughter are infectious. He’s such a good storyteller– great at getting your mind off of the actual apocalypse happening in the world beyond

This boy is Great With Kids

He knows Noctis will come back, and they’ll bring back the light

It’s only a matter of time

Sora takes shifts with other hunters to stand watch at the city limits of Lestallum

Whenever a daemon gets too close, he is usually the first to reach them– he launches himself off, sometimes boosted by magic, and usually takes it down before it sees him coming

Sora isn’t quite sure of the exact moment he was infected with the Starscourge

But if he had to guess

While on a supply run with Prompto, he is ambushed by a gargoyle that manages to latch onto his left arm… with its teeth

Prompto’s killed the thing before Sora has a chance to scream– puts a bullet in its head.

Its head explodes. Sora’s covered in its blood– it’s on his face, in his hair, in his mouth… and it’s all over his left arm, too

Sora remembers reading up on the Starscourge a little bit after hearing Luna talking about it on the radio once… something about “photophilic organisms” infecting a host and leeching off of them like a parasite until

Until…

It really could have been something else. Maybe the world’s darkness was just finally getting to Sora. Maybe Ardyn did something to him. Or maybe he was infected by daemon’s blood in an open wound.

Don’t tell Prompto.

Sora keeps it a secret at first. The thin black tendrils curling beneath the skin of the underside of his left forearm are easy enough to hide with sleeves.

It takes a couple of weeks before it starts to hurt

It’s a throbbing, pulsating pain. It matches his heartbeat a little too well.

The marks spread quickly. More quickly than Sora remembers reading it did. Why is it spreading so damned fast?!

Sora is doing inventory in the stockroom with Nayvth when he experiences an intense palpitation that takes his breath away. He gets so dizzy that he slips off of a ladder while counting the ethers

He’s too woozy to stop a couple of well-meaning bystanders from carrying him to the infirmary– the town had fashioned the restaurant by the kebab stand into one during the long night

He’s able to pull himself together enough to fight off the nurse who tries to examine him. He’s fine. Just tired. Just hungry.

He lies to the nurse, but he decides he can’t lie to his friends. He decides this after checking in the mirror to find that the infection has spread up his arm, across his shoulder, towards his heart.

Prompto sobs

Once everyone knows, they are determined to find a cure

Ignis, having had nine years to grow accustomed to his blindness, being met with frustration he hasn’t felt in years when he realizes that most of the relevant books in Lestallum’s local library are not in braille

Prompto staying up late with Ignis, reading passages to him about the Starscourge, the Oracles’ effort through generations to contain it, and beyond

The infection spreads to Sora’s neck, and now he’s stuck wearing turtlenecks and carefully-pinned scarves to hide it. 

He is absolutely not a turtleneck guy. It’s so constricting and uncomfortable at first! He can’t stand it.

The Scourge spreads to his face

It spreads to his left eye

The people of Lestallum don’t need to worry about isolating Sora. He isolates himself.

People who’d once heralded Sora a hero, cooked him meals, played checkers with him– they’re too afraid to come close

Sora gets it. He really does. Nothing is known about the disease. How infectious is it? Is it transmittable in the air? Will they get the Scourge too if Sora sneezes too close to them?

Sora doesn’t know. But he wears gloves when he’s around Ignis, Gladio, Prompto, and the handful of others who refuse to let his condition stop them from being at his side

It takes a while before the disease begins to affect his mind

Lapses in his memory. He’d come back to his senses and have no idea how he got to wherever he is

He gets irritable. Very.

He lashes out at the slightest provocation. With Gladio especially

He gets downright scary in battle at times.

He keeps hacking away at a Salpinx’s body even though it’s already dead. He’ll never forget the look on Prompto’s face when he finally regains himself

He has a violent coughing fit one night. He pulls his hand away, and there’s black ooze in his palm

It’s cold

“P-Prompto…?”

He still accepts hunts and stands watch and takes care of daemons that get too close to the city

He takes on the biggest fucking Snaga he’s ever seen in his life and is overwhelmed

It kicks his ass 

He would have for sure died if not for Ardyn

His brain screams at him to stay awake, to get up, to finally get back at this piece of shit for everything he’s done to Noctis, to Prompto, to all of his friends– but he’s in too much pain and he’s short of breath and his heart is fluttering and stuttering and everything hurts. He passes out.

He wakes up at camp with Ardyn. Ardyn’s cooking something for them to eat.

Ardyn tells him about his past life– how he’d not only been a Lucian king, but also a healer. He can’t cure the Starscourge. Those powers were lost to him long ago. But he can treat it.

Sora has no way of knowing if this is true or not.

But based on what Ardyn said, it sounds like Ardyn treated the Scourge by drawing it out of the host– and absorbing it himself

Does that mean healing Sora will make Ardyn stronger?

No way he can risk that. This freak is powerful enough already. He’d rather die than make it harder for his friends to save the world.

Ardyn doesn’t give him a choice

After Ardyn draws out most of the Scourge, he’s gone

Sora finds a map that helps him get back to Lestallum. It’s not far.

He does feel a lot better. He didn’t realize what an effort breathing had been for him lately until now– it’s so much easier. The air tastes so much cleaner.

He doesn’t know how much time he has left, now that Ardyn’s interfered with the hands of the clock. He just has to hope that Noctis gets back soon. Because he wants to be there when they finally take Ardyn down.