#headcaon meme

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Scars, hands and dreams for Cassian please?

SCARS

Man let’s talk about how many physical scars Cassian has, from battles fought before he was part of movement that might’ve had access to bacta or any really good healing methods. How many times he’s staggered out of a situation hazy and in shock and desperate to get back to a ship or a base and only realized once he got there that he was bleeding, that at some point he’d been injured but never actually been able to pinpoint how or when, exactly.

(Let’s talk about that Typical Fanfic Trope nonsense where he’s with a lover who wants to run his hands over every scar, press their lips to each one, and wonder -- out loud or not -- what they’re from. And about the very real possibility that Cassian has, in fact, lost track: his own injuries and the pain he’s suffered weigh less on him than the pain he’s caused and whether or not it was worth it.) 

Let’s talk about emotional scars, because you know Cassian won’t: the things he’s done obviously haunt him, but he doesn’t have the time or, really, the audience to sit down and talk them over, to share his burden. I mean technically he does: he seems to have people he’s friendly with (though K2 is HIS ONLY FRIEND) but he seems reluctant to burden them with his darkness, oh Cassian.

HANDS

Cassian’s a spy, and he’s had a hard life, he must’ve seen a lot of death and lost a lot of friends before he stopped making them but he seems close to the Pathfinders and I assume there’s a reason for it. As a spy for the Rebel Alliance he probably ends up in really dangerous places, gathering intelligence, and sometimes the extraction team sent in to clean up or get him out is a bunch of Pathfinders, and well....Things Happen. “First in, last out, and broken furniture in between”, and all that. 

So I just have this picture of Cassian and some poor young Pathfinder kid trapped somewhere, too far to get to the ship, and the kid’s bleeding out, and Cassian knows he’s going to die, so he just kneels down and takes his hand and talks to him for a while. Cassian’s awkward and has a hard time forming emotional connections with people but in a moment like that -- when someone else needs comfort that badly, when death is imminent -- he’s so used to that kind of situation, because he’s seen it so often, that he’s not half bad. The kid is like “what do you think it’s like” and Cassian, thinking back to all the people he’s assassinated, to all the friends and comrades he’s had blown up right next to him, is like “Peaceful. Like coming home.”

Anyway the kid bleeds out and Cassian holds his hand till it goes cold and for some time after, till another Pathfinder team finally manages to get to them. And the gross obvious metaphor of ~blood on his hands~ occurs to him as he’s washing off at the base, later, but there’s nothing else to be done about it: there’s a war on, and rebellions are built on hope.

DREAMS

Like there’s the obvious thing here -- Cassian has probably not had a good night’s sleep for years -- but in the more symbolic sense...do you think Cassian has goals or even plans for if/when the Empire is defeated?

Because in my mind the most telling, real thing is: he doesn’t. He thinks he’s instrumental to bringing down that oppressive force and that he’s building a better world, but it’s that Firefly/Operative thing where he doesn’t believe he can be a part of it. He probably thinks of himself as so tainted by the things he’s had to do that there’ll be no place for him in the new ideal Republic. 

The best case scenario is to die fighting the Empire, bringing down as much of it as he can before he goes. And in a sense that’s what he gets, but it’s still so fundamentally sad for me, that he never really got a chance to have a dream of his own -- something personal, something pleasant and not linked to the fate of the galaxy. 

Send in a character and a number from this list and I will write a headcanon based on the word

[cldfiredrgn]

Eliot Headcanon asks

5)  Bathing/showering headcanon 

Most of the time Eliot prefers a long relaxing bath to a shower, he’ll light a few candles, put on some good music, and read.  It’s especially nice if he can get someone to join him, like Quentin or Margo.  He won’t let just anyone join him though, there has to be an intimate trust between himself and whoever that other person is.

Then there are the moments when he just wants a hot shower, whether its to chase away a lingering hangover, or to wash away to the invisible layer of grime that clings to him after a hook-up doesn’t go the way he’d hoped.  There were a lot more showers than baths after what he did to Mike.  In part because of all the drinking, but also in part because he’s trying to wash away some of that guilt.  He’ll just stand under the spray with his hands against the tile and let the water hide the tears he didn’t want anyone to see.  It’s the same way he hid his feelings from his dad and brothers after what happened to Logan.

17)  Soft spot headcanon

Quentin and Margo, he’ll do just about anything for the small family he’s claimed for himself.  His safety, his life, it’s all secondary if one of them is in trouble.  

18) Favorite possession headcanon

His flask, because it’s small enough to fit almost anywhere, and it’s a temporary escape whenever he needs one. 

[nefertsukia]

Childish head cannon

Send me a word plus ‘Headcanon’ and I’ll give you a headcanon/drabble based on that word.

—

Hiccup never lost that childish wonder of his. No matter what happened, he never stopped believing. It was this part of him that fed his resourcefulness and spiked his creativity.

And as the years went by, his small children became his inspiration. Be it toys or safety devices, be it for fun or to outright baby-proof every perilous object surrounding his offspring, he always came up with something new. His little ones helped him see the magic of the world with renewed faith. They brought an entirely new meaning to his life — and to himself as a person.

There is never a dull moment in their house. Hiccup builds swings and special cradles. He makes toys to help the children learn their runes and shapes and colours. He tells the tales of dragons and the stories of Stoick the Vast and how he took his wife-to-be on the coolest first date ever. He comes up with the best Snoggletog gifts and he kisses every single one of them good night even when he’s not there to tuck them into bed.

He takes his sons and daughters hunting for trolls in the woods. He doesn’t want to miss a thing; he doesn’t want them to grow up without indulging in the the fantasy the world and their imaginations had to offer.

And as old age gets to him, Hiccup truly becomes a child once again.

In his dreams he is a little boy, sat upon the back of a black dragon — they fly over mountains and vales, over beaches and forests, under the rain and under the sun. He relives adventures. He revisits places he had not been to in decades, and is rejoined by people he had not seen in a lifetime.

One day, he doesn’t wake up from the dream.

He remains high up in the skies, well beyond the reach of any mundane eyes, carried through the wind with his own wings.