#just a little headcanon

[mrs-sharp]

Weasley: "Alright, you two, which one of you wrote 'Kill trolls' as a task in MC's field guide?"

Sharp: "I can't remember writing anything about killing..."

Hecat: "I didn't come up with a task involving trolls..."

Sharp: "...I'm sure, I wrote defeat trolls."

Hecat: "...I said kill dark wizards."

Weasley: "Merlin, help me."

[wingedblooms]

Credit: This stunning moodboard comes from the genius of @bloomingdarkgarden. I am forever grateful for her time, skills, and encouragement.

Background: A tiny headcanon of Elain as she experiences a strange vision while preparing for the winter.

~🌸~

One moment she was a tendril of mist, the next a gilded ray of light flashing through the forest.

As she descended into the cavern, her power had already built into a sparkling river of light, pure and ancient. She was an unstoppable, living force, and she cut through rock as life blossomed in her wake.

Elain blinked and once again felt the fabric between her fingers as she covered the more fragile plants in her garden, the familiar surroundings and movements settling her back into her body. The frost would descend upon them soon and if she didn’t act swiftly, some of her plants would suffer or perish entirely in the coming cold.

As she resumed her gardening ritual, her mind drifted back to the dream. She had, for the most part, learned how to contain her sight, but some dreams would still slip through her defenses. This particular dream had mesmerized her since the earliest days of her change, seeping into her vision like a wave rolling over the shore. She knew now not to fear or resist it, to let this insistent kind of dream—like an urgent message from the Mother herself—flow over her, casting her consciousness off to another time and place.

This dream always offered the same strange glimpse of the future. Flashes of a foreign land wreathed in mist. The swift movements of her body, if she could even call it that. She was always left with this exhilarating sense that she was more than mere flesh and blood and bones. She was everything around her and yet…well, nothing at all. It reminded her of her friends’ otherworldly movements when they slipped into shadow and moved through the walls of her home. Or even Amren’s true form as it swept onto the battlefield, all-consuming and full of rage. Perhaps she would finally find the courage to ask them about it soon.

~🌸~

“And once you were in this body, you couldn’t change?” […] “Are you asking out of curiosity for my past, or your own future?” (chapter 12, acofas)

“The silver thread,” Elain asked. “What is that called?” […] “I call it Hope.” (chapter 15, acofas)

I stared and stared at the black fabric that was like peering into a pit of hell. And then stared at the iridescent, living silver thread that cut through it, bright despite the darkness that devoured all other light and color. (chapter 15, acofas)

Tag: @elainarcheronweek, Day 1: Visions

Read how this recurring vision plays out in part two.

[rochenn]

star wars characters, no matter how old, being awkward at handling paper books because they're too used to digital media>>>

[lostreverb]

I don't blame peter for not wearing his glasses. I mean imagine being an 11 year old boy with silver hair and every kid in class is calling you "old man" already then you find out you need glasses? hell no i'm not wearing those gtfo

[meloms-ao3]

(Headcanon) Not sure why but I have yet again come back to writing Sirius having a hair-pulling kink. But of course, he doesn't like to admit it to Remus. In their daily life, it would probably go something like this:

Remus: *starts playing with Sirius's hair while lying on the couch together* Sirius: *one hand on his mouth, blushing furiously and trying not to make a sound*

[lifes-pinata]

Shuri is afraid of carriages.

She tries to hide it, to make it unnoticeable. But her breath catches with every bump in the road.

One day their carriage lurched to a halt after a particularly bad storm- a wheel stuck in the mud- and Shuri's hands shook, and shook, and shook. Her face white as a sheet.

Jeremy notices these things now, but he didn't always. He doesn't know whether this fear is new, or if he never looked.

He never will know. When he asks Shuli, she just smiles with eyes far too old for someone their age. It makes him uneasy for reasons he can't explain.

It doesn't matter in the end. It's just another oddity to watch for, one of several. Honestly, compared to everything else it's the least concerning. There are dozens of reasons why someone might dislike carriage rides.

It's probably nothing.

Jeremy keeps watching anyway.

[lithuaniaseye]

There were newsies in other cities other than New York. I’m imagining all different outfits and gangs in different cities. Like in Chicago there could be different groups in every neighborhood (there are 77 I think). also newsies riding trolleys in San Francisco

[seraphim-seeker]

I think…. Though he may never admit it. I think Bloodmoon (the Brash Twin) regrets killing KC deep down because he killed someone who genuinely cared about him and his brother.

Now, that he has lost his brother and a long while back killed his father, he’s starting to feel those words from their last interaction now that he is truly alone and no one cares about him. He suffers in silence and within his own emotions because he doesn’t want to admit that he lives with regret or that he’s in pain or that refusal to change is because he does not really anything past killing, maiming, tormenting, and torture

(Yes, Yes, Bloodmoon is kind of a psycho jerk whose killed for fun and this me being a lil delulu but I think there is hope for him. At least this part of Bloodmoon, if he tries.)

[wanderingchocolateeclair]

A small headcanon:

That Powerloader actually does have a proper hero costume with a shirt made of actual protective material.

BUT he doesn’t like wearing it bc it’s an uncomfy material and also he grew out of it and still has not gone to get it re-fitted. So it’s just incredibly small now.

It’s been years.

Bonus ectoloader doodle bc of course:

After trying it on while it’s too small, it’s probably a little tricky to get it back off.

Don’t worry, Higari, he’ll gladly help you :)

[crow-thing]

I think David Kessler is the kinda guy that knows way too many bad puns

[archie-mp3]

Quick little head canon I have for Snape. It doesn’t really make sense out loud, but in my head it does.

Snape uses both she/her and he/him. It’s just a small thing I have in my head, and I thought I’d share it. :’)

[therighthandofvengeance]

I always think that Ivanova was better at handling Minbari Diplomacy for two reasons

1) minimal conflict of interest, nonexistent in comparison to Sheridan

2) she Had “The Phase” in her secondary English classes. “the one where your teacher hands you the shortest story that’s the most messed up thing you’ve ever encountered and in less than three pages, too. the classic work where the realization of the timelessness of longing hits you and never leaves. the one where you find your favorite poet and devour their sentiment with your entire being. the play that makes you realize the value of connection above all else.” - @brochacho

Ivanova is REALLY good at catching and interpreting symbolism. Rituals are based on symbolism. With a bit of research into cultures and customs, she’s ready to handle the informational part of diplomacy. The rest, like all else, simply takes practice.

[rmg91]

Headcanon: The reason Lumalee is in jail is because she’s a criminal.

[bereft-of-frogs]

There’s that post that’s like ‘everyone should get into a tiny niche fandom at least once’ fully agree, that was really fun -- but I would like to add that everyone should get into a fandom where their opinions run counter to major fanon because it really teaches you about sticking to your guns and trusting your interpretation of the text without having to rely on peer validation

because WHAT are people talking about sometimes

[meloms-ao3]

I love the trope of Castiel learning about things humans do, him trying his best to understand though it's hard for him as an angel but wanting to understand for Dean. Which leads to accidental flirting.

Dean: [finished cutting his fingernails] They sure got long again...

Castiel: What are you doing?

Dean: Hm? I was just cutting my nails, I didn't have time recently, and they grew a bit too long.

Castiel: [horrified] Your nails grow longer?! Doesn't that hurt? [he takes Dean's hand, examining it]

Dean: [smiling, watching Cas's face] No, it doesn't, just another human thing, you know?

Castiel: Ah okay... [looks at his own fingernails, compares them to Deans] Good then, you humans get hurt so easily I was concerned.

Dean: [embarrassed, hoping he is not turning red] I'm not fragile like that.

[heavenbarnes]

thinking about your older bf!simon that cannot cope with being far from you.

when you’re in the shower, he’s sat on the lid of the toilet on his phone (watching those rug cleaning videos) enjoying your faint singing under the stream of water, the smell of your body wash on the cloud of steam- ready to pass you a towel or get your back.

when you’re at your desk, working from home or studying, he’s just on the other side of it reading the paper with one outstretched leg tangled with both of yours. he’s dead quiet when you’re on a call, just happy to be around.

when you’re doing laundry, collecting the clothes in the hamper and crouching to stuff them into the washer- turning around and accidentally colliding with a thick wall of muscle.

“sorry, love”

he steps aside but you can hear his soft footfalls as he continues to follow you throughout your home.

when you’re both watching something on the couch, what starts as his pinky locked with yours turns into his arm around your waist. that turns into your head on his chest, which culminates with you falling asleep in his lap with his cheek on your head and soft snores emanating from his lips.

when you grocery shop, you push the trolley but his chest is to your back, arms either side of you and hands clasped over yours on the handle. you can thank his military training for his uncanny ability to tell exactly when you’ll stop walking.

when he wakes up in the middle of the night, on a rare occasion when you’ve managed to slip out of bed without him realising, he’s immediately in a panic calling your name.

“in here, my love”

as soon as his heart settles, he realises the bathroom light was probably a dead giveaway. you’re taking a wee, you’ll be back in a minute.

that doesn’t stop a sleepy simon from leaning in the doorframe, shielding his eyes from the big light as he waits for you to finish up.

even on the short walk back to bed, you can feel fingers twisted in the back of your shirt- almost like you’re leading the way.

minute you’re both on the mattress, you’re being wrapped up in his arms, slotting you perfectly into the curve of his front- almost like you’re made for him.

(and you are)