#headcanon not fact

[quillandsaber]

Let's Talk About the Barn Scene - Again!

Offering an alternative interpretation that may hit the right spot for some of y'all.

In most real cultures - both historic and today - people really don't care about boys and girls spending time together until they're at an age to "get into trouble", at which point parents start to get concerned. In historic cultures (and some cultures today), this is the age when a wall has to go up between girls and boys. At the time of Phoenix Gate, Clive was certainly past that threshold, and Jill was approaching it quickly. It's fairly safe to assume that some combination of Elwin, Rodney, and whatever other instructors Clive had in his life would have taught him that he needed to treat Jill "like a lady", keeping his hands to himself, no funny business. Clive, being the boy scout that he is, would have adhered to the rule like his life depended on it, and would have probably expected to adhere to that rule until/unless they became formally betrothed and married. Based on how Jill treats Joshua and Clive, she probably did not have those talks (though based on her physical maturity level, she would probably have gotten similar talks in a year or so).

When we get to The Barn Scene, it's been thirteen years, but Clive has probably never reconsidered the rules he was given because they've been completely irrelevant for the vast majority of said thirteen years, and during the few days that Jill has been back in his life and conscious, he's had a lot of other things to think about. So when Jill nudges his personal space - something she was never specifically instructed to not do - he defaults back to the rules he had been taught as a teenager: keep your distance, hands to yourself, don't do anything you wouldn't do in front of your parents, etc.

We can tell at the end of the second timeskip that he has realized that these rules don't apply any more, and he's much more tactile with her.

[turtleblogatlast]

Leo learns something about himself 🏳️‍⚧️

Based roughly on this old post.

Bonus:

[Leo is taking the fact that he was born biologically female simultaneously very well and also not so well but overall he’s mostly coping with the fact that it was Draxum that just essentially gave him the turtle equivalent of ‘The Talk’.]

[samstree]

R2-D2's favoritism towards Anakin is so funny like, he's canonically the most foul-mouthed, ill-tempered, grump old cat-coded droid. The cute appearance is only an illusion to lure you in just so he can tase you, and maybe also kick you from behind just because he wants to. Even the disney princess Obi-Wan loved by all animals on first sight doesn't get along with R2. But he just. likes. Anakin. He's the wingman, he's emotional support, he's a good helper in battle. He carries snacks and checks if Anakin is hungry. He looks at this also ill-tempered angsty goth kid and said, yep that's my bff. Meanwhile Anakin goes around saying things like R2 is such a sweetheart 😌he's a little angel he's literally the best buddy anyone could ask for and I will risk my life to save him. Everyone else just looks like the demon droid and be like what the fuck are you talking about.

[zivazivc]

I feel like I have some of the most random headcanons. but I am lowkey obsessed with the fact that John Dory is so much older than Branch that he potentially could have dated their friends'/peers' parents, and/or anything else funny and possibly entertaining that the large age difference entails lmaokskssbcdsbcjdh

edit: part two

[s-aint-elmo]

part 2 of my pining falin agenda aka I STAND WITH MARCILLE THAT DRESS WAS CUNT

part 1

(ID in alt text)

[bunnieswithknives]

As much as I love angst I think it would be funny if he just didnt give af

[fckbatmanhiskidsareminenow]

tim and damian alone in the manor one day when tim is feeling ungrounded and needs to sleep.

“damian i need you to lay on me”

“what?!”

“i’m feeling so out of my body right now i just need pressure”

damian watches at tim barely manages to put a sentence together and feels a little scared (scared is not the word i’m looking for it’s probably mild concern.) so he listens and kinda just flops his body down onto tim’s.

(they both end up asleep and dick still has the photographic evidence)

[mist-the-wannabe-linguist]

Most Antivan Crows do not live long enough to experience a midlife crisis

The Crows supply their ranks generally from orphans, illegitimate or abandoned children, children purchased from slavery, whore houses and other similar sources. Some are born into the Crows already, but those would be a very small minority, for reasons explained below.

Lucanis mentions that Crow training involves a lot of acrobacy. After a brief search, sports with similar physical requirements such as gymnastics, ballet and martial arts have the ideal starting age in the range of 4-10 years, 15 at the latest, when the children's joints are still flexible (and their minds can be easily manipulated). Zevran is canonically stated to have been taken at the age of 7.

Crow training is intense and brutal, involving straight up torture as tests of pain tolerance. From the 18 fledglings of House Arainai taken in the same year as Zevran, only two survived to the end of their training (World of Thedas Vol. 2). Training with real weapons, harsh punishment, possibly the Spartan custom of underfeeding the children and driving them to stealing food for themselves to encourage learning stealth and resourcefulness, and very likely killing any who try to run away, all these are very likely factors for the high death rate among fledglings.

If the average age of newest Crow fledglings is 6, they might be ready for promotion to the rank of Assassin very well as early as the age of 14-15. This is where the second meat grinder starts, these new Crows will already have plenty experience, but the first solo contracts will still likely take many of them, either killed by their targets, by their Masters for failing the contract, or by themselves to avoid the pain and humiliation of returning to their Masters unsuccessful. This period might likely have the highest suicide rates in general, as the new Crows are still relatively emotionaly vulnerable but old enough to comprehend their position in the world and the weight of their actions.

Promotion to the rank of Assassin also certainly brings great benefits that only increase as the Crow's career progresses and their contracts bring them more coin. The comforts and opulence of Antiva are for them to take, and someone who has grown up only knowing hunger and pain will certainly not hold back. Alcohol, drugs, sex, all the addictions and diseases will surely take the lives of many Crows.

An Assassin's career begins early and ends early. To use sports and dance once again, most porfessional gymnasts and ballet dancers retire between the ages of 25 and 35 as their physical capabilities decline. Those who have survived this long will be granted the rank of Master and oversee the distribution of contracts and the training of fledglings, and will participate in actual assassinations much less. This is also where one might strive to become a Grandmaster or even a Talon. At this point, a Crow will have enough prominence within the organization that they might become a target themselves. Only the most skilled, well-connected and ruthless Crows will continue to rise and, most importantly, continue to live.

If a presumed average number of fledglings per House is around 20, 2-3 will make it to Assassin. In one Assassin's 20 years long career, that would make only about 50 new Assassins out of 400 fledglings. Probably only about a half of those will make it to 35. Even fewer will make it to 50. Out of 400 children bought or stolen from the streets.

Caterina Dellamorte is over 70 years old.

[zeropro]

Yellow boys!

[plethorawrites]

(Guys, there's too much Jason consuming my thoughts 😭 I can't write anything else. Someone make me stop. I need to fixate on Dick or Bruce for a bit, please!)

Imagining Jason Todd, whose happy place is his partner and who protected his peace so well his family doesn't even know you exist. It wasn't that he tried to hide it, he just wasn't sure at first if a few dates with you would lead to anything serious. Then, suddenly he was leaving patrol early to come home to your shared apartment because you had a headache and wanted him to hold you. Well, telling them that would simply lead to too many questions of who you were and how your relationship started, so he simply makes up an excuse about forgetting a promise he made to Roy. It wasn't that he didn't think his family wouldn't approve, he knew they would adore you. He just liked how separate it was. How you weren't a part of chaos and the darkness they were. You were his safe place, outside of all the madness that his family caused and he rather liked how calm it was to love you without the pressure of his family and their opinions. He'd tell them when the time was right, he always told himself. He just wasn't sure when that would be.

[bamsara]

Hello :P tiny reminder that my Lamb and Joon (my yellow cat) both use They/Them pronouns :P

[quillandsaber]

FF16 Theory Time

I think that Cid suspected that Clive = Ifrit even before they first met.

I stumbled on this theory thinking about the fact that Cid was able to recognize Clive...from a thirteen-year-old description of Clive's impressive skills as a teenager. They'd never met before; Cid had never seen the Blessing of the Phoenix before. Cid also mentioned having heard rumors of Clive having survived the massacre that killed almost everyone else and there being a second Dominant of fire who caused a lot of the destruction during that massacre.

While I think it's unreasonable to assume that Cid knew, Clive being that second Dominant of fire (because it's a lot easier to survive a massacre caused by an invading army and a giant fire kaiju if you become said fire kaiju) is a plausible enough theory with the information Cid had to hand that he would likely consider it worth his time to investigate. I'd even go so far as to theorize that finding Clive was already on Cid's to-do list. That's why Cid was able to recognize Clive immediately from the Blessing of the Phoenix: Cid had done some research on it and had been thinking about it recently enough to be able to distinguish it from any other fire-attuned Bearer magic.

[idkaguyorsomething]

“apollo wrote the hamilton musical in pjo” “hermes wrote the hamilton musical in pjo” you fools. ¿have you forgotten who the greek god of theatre is?

[plutonicbees]

imagine ur tim drake, it's the anniversary of ur mother's funeral, christmas eve, and you're absolutely shitting ur pants bc you let your teammate feed you the crabcakes they made

you're absolutely going through it, and then u find out that doomsday (not the villain) is coming in the form of a meteor. u try to call batman and he's off planet. u call up nightwing's team and they're dealing with their own battle. there's nobody to help so you and your team go to fuckin,, fight an evil meteor. one of your friends is writing a will. you're all ready to die (you're ready to reunite with your mother).

and then fucking santa comes and waves hi and your team tries to tell him to watch out and then the evil meteor crashes into his sleigh and fucking explodes him and the reindeers in a glorious gory death

man. what are you doing next christmas eve.

[cobaltfluff]

competitive aquarium date

bonus: the night before

[stevebabey]

you're the only one for me, baby

1.7k, steddie, one of them getting so drunk that they don't recognise the other and telling them back off i've already got a boyfriend, it's all sweetness <3 likely a modern!au and actually just goobers in love

Eddie doesn't really drink. He's not against partying but he's much more attuned to smoking a little weed to take the edge off, sometimes a spliff if he wants to mix a little business and pleasure.

Eddie doesn't really drink—so when he does, it goes about as well as expected.

From zero to a hundred.

Steve had lost track of him after directing his stumbling feet towards the bathroom to take a leak. But apparently, as he's now found out, this bathroom has two doors.

What the fuck kind of bathroom has two doors, like some weird thoroughfare?

Regardless, it took all of five minutes with no noises coming from the inside before Steve had loudly announced he was coming in, no matter what, getting quite worried for his boyfriend.

He trusted Eddie to not be too sloshed to handle a piss, even if he was on the wilder side tonight, but still leaned up against the door to chase off anyone else looking to knock—because Eddie hilariously gets pee-shy.

The door had opened easily, apparently unlocked, and Steve had stepped into the empty bathroom. The other door across the room, the one he hadn't noticed until now, was wide open to the party.

So, now he's on the hunt for Eddie.

Which is a task that feels a little bit like herding cats because drunk Eddie isn't something Steve has a lot of experience with. But what he does know, is this: it's the opposite of high Eddie.

Stoned, Eddie likes to find the comfiest place he can (usually Steve's lap, or so he proclaims) and sink into it, like melting wax. Then, given he has access to adequate snacks, he doesn't move for quite some time.

Drunken Eddie cannot even fathom the concept of sitting still.

Either way, looking where there's food is a good as a place to start as any.

Steve ambles out the strange two-doored bathroom and flips his head back and forth, trying to remember the direction of the kitchen. He hasn't been here before—one of Eddie's band connections—and Steve's still had a couple beers himself.

He shakes his head and takes a left, relieved when it leads to the stairs. Okay, he sort of knows where he's going now. They had only come upstairs to find the quieter bathroom for Eddie.

As Steve reaches the bottom of the stairs, a faint stir of irritation flashes through him. Eddie just left him behind? That wasn't that nice, even if he was incredibly drunk.

He can hear the din of people chattering just above the music and he follows it, leading him into the half-full kitchen, people dotted around. There's a few pizza boxes scattered around and Steve eyes each of them specifically, looking for the tell-tale wipe of Eddie's greasy fingers. No dice.

Steve wrinkles his nose, spinning around and double checking before he moves on.

If not by the food, then... where?

Steve takes a few steps forward into the living room, his heart beginning to sink and shrivel all at once. There was a miserable feeling attached to looking for his partners at a party, a wallowing and awful memory tied to the feeling.

Steve pushes a hand across his chest roughly, as if trying to shove the feeling away.

Eddie wasn't... her. Eddie wouldn't do that.

But the moment he's thought it, it's stuck in his head. Steve's feet begin to speed up, checking a little more carelessly as he starts to stick his head in different rooms, his hazel eyes jumping around. Not Eddie, not Eddie, not Eddie—so many people and none of them are Eddie.

Until—there. Steve spots a very familiar looking behind as it leans over the back of the couch, the owner of said-behind talking to someone sitting on the couch.

He blinks, just to be sure, but the details come into better focus. There's chains on his belt loops and when he shakes his head, Steve can see the curls he loves to bury his hands into.

Eddie.

Steve's relief pulls him forward, his feet almost stumbling, his mouth pulling into a relieved smile. He puts a hand out, fingers spread, across the leather-clad back.

"Eds," Steve says, relief colouring his voice.

Eddie swings up abruptly, pushing himself off the couch. When he turns, a bit of liquid sloshes out of the beer bottle he's holding.

"Heyyy," The words come out a bit slurred and when he finally stands straight, he doesn't look right at Steve. "Handsssss off the merchandise, buddy."

Steve chuckles, reaching out and plucking the bottle from his boyfriend's grasp. Eddie gawps, an adorable little hiccup interrupting his shocked expression.

"Hey," He says loudly, reaching forward for it fruitlessly as Steve pulls it out reach. "That's mine." Eddie whines.

"You've had more than enough, I think." Steve says. He steals just one gulp of it before he turns at puts it on a nearby table. When he turns back, Eddie is frowning at him, brows pulled together tightly and bottom lip jutting out.

"Listen—" Eddie leans forward, jabbing a finger into Steve's chest. "I dunnowhoyouthinkyouare," The words come out in a one big jumble and Steve frowns.

What? Something sour claws into Steve's chest at the frosty greeting.

"Eddie," Steve says, his hazel eyes wide and worried as his gaze darts between Eddie's squinted face and swaying form.

Steve reaches out to put a hand on his waist, aiming to steady him, but Eddie sees it coming and widens his eyes comically. He swerves back to avoid it, his boots tilting dangerously on the wooden floors. If he was still holding his beer, Steve bets half of it would be on the floor by now.

"Wo-oah," Eddie exaggerates, waving a hand out and batting Steve's outstretched arm away. The rottenness in Steve's chest blooms, rancid and freezing. He sucks in a sharp breath.

"Ed—"

"I—" Eddie says, holding up his hand and waggling one finger at Steve, like he's a naughty schoolboy. His words still have that drunken slur to them.

"—already have a boyfriend, thank you very much. He's much too pretty to be throwing it away for the likes of you, you weasel of a man..." His ludicrous and nonsensical insult trails off under his breath as Eddie's attention is drawn away by a shout across the room.

As he watches Eddie drape himself back over the couch, the sourness between Steve's ribs shifts, transforming into something infinitely sweeter. He lets out a dazed laugh, a wild smile spreading on his face before he can smother it beneath his hand.

I'm dating a lunatic, Steve thinks happily.

He reaches out and steals Eddie's beer once more, taking another large swig before giving it another go.

This time, he sidles up beside Eddie who's engaged back in conversation with one of the guys on the couch, and just waits. It only takes a minute before the dude on the couch seems to realise who Steve's waiting for and he nudges Eddie, gesturing behind him.

Eddie, still bent over the back of the couch, twists only his head to look. This time, the recognition is immediate.

He springs up, pushing the couch forward an inch in his excitement and leaps forward, his hands clawing into Steve's shoulder with a fierce delight.

"Steeeeve," Eddie croons, crowding in close. His hands start moving, fingers searching like curious spiders, fingertips dancing along the sensitive skin of Steve's neck til he's squirming back, laughter betraying him.

"Stop it." He laughs. Steve arrests Eddie's wrists in his hand and Eddie cackles, using the pause to surge forward, kissing him square on the mouth.

Eddie tastes like the beer he's been drinking and Steve barely gets a moment to enjoy it before Eddie's pulling back, leaning forward so they're forehead to forehead.

"I was looking for you." Eddie says, his doe eyes wide. His pupils grow larger the longer he stares at Steve.

Steve grins. "Uh huh. Looking for me between the couch cushions, were you?"

Eddie rears back, his head flipping as he stares back at the couch and then back at Steve. "Nuh uh. I came out the bathroom and you were goooone."

That explains it. Eddie must have left out the other door — and then thought Steve had left him behind and gone hunting for him. Something else settles in Steve's chest, relieved.

"And—" Eddie hiccups. "—and some guy tried to- to freakin' flirt with me. Can you believeee?"

Steve's grin widens by a mile. "Is that so? What you'd tell him?"

"No, of course!" Eddie says, head pulled back as if he's appalled Steve would think otherwise. He shakes his hands out of Steve's grip and drops them, fumbling for a moment to get his fingers into Steve's belt loops.

When he does, he yanks Steve forward a tad too forcefully, their bodies colliding in a way that's more sore than sexy. Eddie continues on as if he doesn't notice. "Even if he was particularly tasty," He murmurs, his lips tracing the column of Steve's throat.

"I let him know, baby." Eddie all but purrs.

And perhaps if the competition Eddie was beating off was literally anyone other than himself, Steve would be right there with him.

Instead, he can't contain his snort of laughter. Eddie was perfect; he was a possessive and drunken dog, barking up the wrong damn tree. Steve loves him.

"You're laughing," Eddie states plainly, even as his doe eyes manage to grow even more round. Steve can't help it, it just makes him laugh more.

"Treason." Eddie declares. Then using the belt loops to keep Steve captive, he leans in and blows a raspberry on his neck.

Steve lets out an unattractive squawk, his laughter melting into Eddie's as he pushes his boyfriend's face away — to which Eddie simply lets himself go limp, his face cradled and held up solely by Steve's hands.

"Christ," Steve says between his laughs, shifting his hand to hold him more tenderly. Eddie smiles dopely, then puckers his lips and closes his eyes.

Steve rolls his eyes, entirely too endeared. "Alright, c'mere," He gives in, leaning and kissing Eddie, short and sweet. When he pulls back, Eddie's eyes are open, starry and gazing up at him. He gives a dreamy sounding sigh. Steve's heart fizzles, like it's full of pop-rocks.

"Ready to go?"

"As long as it's with you, baby." Eddie says, sounding every bit like he means it.