In My Head Canon (let's Be Honest- We Put WAAAY More Thought Into This Game Than The Writers Did), Jakob

In my head canon (let's be honest- we put WAAAY more thought into this game than the writers did), Jakob is so obsessed with Corn because Gunther spent years drilling into his head that he's worthless and the only thing that can give his life meaning is serving his liege. Though to be fair, Gunther shares that mindset ("This body exists to protect you" and all). Of course, in my head-verse, Nerr (MU) is so wrapped up in her head that she doesn't notice there's two people who would probably literally kill themselves (or her) if she rejected them (which is exactly what happened in the first FE fanfic I wrote)

Head canons are fun~!

Hi I dunno if you still do headcanons for Jokamu but I have one. You know in Awakening how Cordelia is in love with Chrom and never seems to really love her husband and Severa gets upset about it? Well, I headcanon that if Corrin and Jakob never got together, he'd be the same way. He'd always talk about Corrin and everyone would know that was his only real love. I think it would drive Dwyer mad because he knows his father never really loved his mother and he'd resent Corrin for his unhappyfamily

I’ve actually thought about this alot and even started a short little story about Dwyer confronting Jakob after he finds his mother crying about the situation.

I definitely think this would be the case. Obviously they’re my obsession and my favourite couple so I always put them together but if for whatever reason in the game they didn’t get together, I don’t doubt for a second that he’d never move on.

Jakob adores Corrin and loves her in a way I don’t think he’d ever love anyone else. Even if both ended up going their separate ways and starting separate families, his heart woukd always belong to her. And like you said, I think that wold cause alot of tension in the family and lead to Dwyer resenting both Jakob and Corrin.

So, I did my Fates baby in swim wear, but not my Awakening baby? This injustice will not stand! As soon as I saw that design of trunks/speedo, I knew Gangrel had to have it. I drew him with my Awakening avatar Bryn, who he's married to in all my playthroughs, because I don't really care for Robin, and the fandom seems to want her to be with Chom anyway. Which is just as well, because Robin is a teenager, whereas Bryn is a 32 year old woman who's already making plans to get shitfaced, son.

He totally uses that inner tube like a ring blade.

I Caught Fire excerpt pt.2

(Here’s the other part of this Awakening fic I did. I think I’m going to post my unfinished work here so as not to bother readers on ff.net and ao3 with drabbles)

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“Don’t Leave Me” pt. 2 – He detested the healing tent, for so many reasons. The simplest was that he just couldn’t stand being around other people, especially not the people of the Ylissean League, and a trip to the healing tent meant human interaction was a given. Perhaps on a more complex level (one that he would never admit to anyone willingly) was the fact that medical bays of any sort always reminded him of that tentative transition period after the great war. That time when he had barely been king for a fortnight, when the dead still littered the streets and the sand was red from fresh spilled blood.

While hatred had stewed in his mind and heart, there was no time for revenge. Every temple had been converted into a hospice, but it still wasn’t enough to contain the massive influx of wounded and dying. What could he do other than open the castle up to them, despite the protests of the lords and nobles. What was he supposed to do; let women and children that may as well have been him and his mother, die on the streets? The bourgeois would’ve preferred that, but he had never cared for the opinions of the rich and powerful. That was something Ylissean dogs would do.

The sight of the wounded, with their limbs missing and bones shattered and guts hanging out of them like streamers was never truly wiped from his mind. He’d seen enough of it over the course of two wars- he didn’t need any reason to further humanize these damnable Ylisseans.

Gangrel stood by the edge of the tent, far enough from the cots so as to not be in the way, but close enough that his presence could not go unnoticed. At a glance, it would’ve been easy to assume he was angry, enraged even, the way his jaw clenched as he practically seethed at the woman currently sitting on the only occupied cot. The young woman, her already pale skin an almost sickly gray from blood loss, sat with one arm slightly raised and shaking from the apparent effort of keeping it aloft while the other held her overly large shirt up over her stomach while still covering her breasts (Bryn, like most Plegian women, did not take kindly to wearing small clothes).

A younger, very petite blonde girl donning the attire of a War Cleric was wrapping a tourniquet around her midsection. It was obvious the girl (who’s name was Liz or something) wanted to say something to her patient, but every time she opened her mouth, she froze, before casting a furtive, almost frightened glance toward the man looming over them in the background. Gangrel met every timid glance in his direction with a death glare. He had been silent the whole time, but the look on his face spoke volumes. Eyes forward, girl, before I take them away from you. He didn’t need the silly little chit looking at him when she had a job to do. Finally (he was beginning to suspect the blonde princess wasn’t exactly good at her duties), Lissa tied the bandages in place, getting to her knees as she brushed off her hands.

“There. All patched up.” Her patient smiled up at her, obviously weary, but sincerely grateful. “Thank you, Lissa. You’re a lifesaver.” “Yeah, well, I can be a life taker too, so you’d better actually rest this time if you know what’s good for you.” Bryn rolled her visible eye. “Yes, mother.”

As the cleric left (finally), Gangrel walked over until he occupied the spot she had just vacated, saying nothing as he watched the other woman gingerly lower her shirt, wincing slightly. Heaving a deep sigh,  she slumped forward a bit, clearly exhausted.

“Well?” She prompted, not bothering to look up at him. “Go ahead. I know you’re just dying to lay into me.” For a second, he thought of holding back, leaving her to rest in peace… of course, the former Plegian king had the impulse control of a child, and a second was as long as he could restrain himself.

“How could you do something so positively stupid?! You’re supposed to be a master tactician, someone  who’s smarter than the rest of us idiots!” “What I did was tactically sound–” she tried to interrupt him, but he wasn’t having any of it. “Does it look like I’m finished? No! Now let me talk!”

“…I’m listening.” The way she looked up at him, guileless and enraptured despite the exhaustion and pallor of her face, took all the wind from his sails. He sighed deeply, his shoulders slumping in defeat. He had allowed his anger to fade, and that was his mistake. Anger was easy. Anger was comfortable. The emotions swirling inside him now were new and confusing and they terrified him. Fear, misery, guilt, concern and, yes, a bit of anger, but for all the wrong reasons. Reasons he wasn’t used to. Everything within him now was born of love, love for the stupid, reckless woman sitting in front of him. It made everything he felt more intense, to the point of physical illness. He wasn’t used to caring about anyone, and to suddenly have someone thrust in his life he cared for so much… it was like drowning.

He reached out, brushing the backs of his fingers against the curve of her cheek. She was so soft, but so cold. Not as cold as she had been on the battlefield, but close. “Why did you put yourself in danger like that?” he asked in a tortured whisper. “Trying to beat me to the grave?” To anyone else, he’d have meant that as a joke, albeit a rather morbid one, but with Bryn, it was simply a grim reminder that every second he had with her was precious. That there was no guarantee they would have much more time together. The ever looming threat of Grima already gave him nightmares, he didn’t need the added horror of watching her fall on the field of some inconsequential skirmish.

For a long time, Bryn was silent, but it seemed to be more from the toll her wounds were taking on her than any kind of hesitance. Finally, she spoke up, her voice weak and tired, only emphasizing her words.  “Just trying to keep you safe. You’re lucky I was there; if I hadn’t pushed you out of the way, that berserker would’ve cleaved you in twain.”

The truth of her words left a sour taste in his mouth….

He had been so caught up in picking off the undead archers and tricksters that surrounded them that he hadn’t even noticed the silvery glint of the ax that nearly bisected him until Bryn shoved him hard to the side. He’d hit the ground at an awkward angle, twisting his wrist painfully as he instinctively tried to catch himself, but he hadn’t noticed any of that until much later. At the moment, all he could focus on was the woman standing between him and the Fell servant that nearly killed him. That blow, meant for him, only grazed the young tactician, but the razor’s edge of the blade still sliced effortlessly through what flesh it met.

She wasn’t wearing her usual breastplate (it was only a skirmish! The Risen they faced weren’t even that strong!), and her thin clothes offered less than no protection. Everything seemed to slow down as Gangrel watched the bright red arc of blood that followed the path of the ax fall to the ground. It seemed to take Bryn a moment to even realize she’d been struck, but he needed less time than that to get back to his feet. As he held his ever present Levin sword aloft, he could feel his blind rage mixing with and strengthening his magic. The air around them burned and cracked loudly as a bolt of lightning emanated from the sword into the shambling bag of rotting bones and flesh that was the Risen. It could not even howl in agony as it exploded into a (unsatisfying) cloud of acrid purple smoke. Gangrel was sure he would’ve gone on a massacre, probably hunting down Risen and ally alike if only to quell the rage burning within him, had there not been a strained whimper behind him.

He turned, all the anger and hate within him doused by fear as he watched his betrothed clutch at the wound that gaped across her belly, trying to stem the flow of blood that had already dyed most of her shirt and trousers. He dropped his sword at once, not caring that they were still in the midst of a battle, rushing to her side before she fell and injured herself more. It was just a flesh wound, but it bled so much, and she was so pale and cold… How could he have let such a thing happen? He was supposed to protect her, and he had been doing such a good job of it too… Of course, things like this always happened, though usually with less disastrous results. No matter how hard he fought to keep her safe, Bryn always had to jump in and take blows meant for him. More often than not she just deflected them expertly, but the fact remained that this was getting to be a habit…

“I was doing just fine, thank you. Maybe if I didn’t always have to worry about you getting yourself hurt, I could pay more attention to what was going on around me.” The young tactician gaped at him in disbelief. “Oh my gods…. Are you actually trying to blame me for this? I save your life, and you’re trying to blame me for getting hurt?” “Damn it, Bryn, I don’t need you saving my life! I’m supposed to protect you! There’s only one person here who’s life matters, and it sure as hell isn’t me.” That look she fixed him with, that sad, disapproving look, made it feel as if there was a chunk of ice in his throat, choking him.

“…Don’t say that, Gangrel. Please don’t. You know I hate it when you talk like that…” How dare she guilt trip him when he was in the right? It was a disgrace… but it worked. It wasn’t fair- wasn’t he guilty of enough things, things much less noble than loving someone who mattered more than him? Gritting his teeth, he ran a hand through his perpetually messy hair.

“It’s the truth.” He seethed. “You know it’s the truth as well as I do. You are all I have to live for, Bryn. I am nothing without you. If anything were ever to happen to you, let alone because I couldn’t protect you or save you…” He simply trailed off. He knew what he wanted to say, and she undoubtedly did too, but he simply couldn’t put it into words. Not out of fear of making it real, but because there were just no words to describe how lost he would be without her. She had shown him a glimpse of what real life was like for the first time since he was a child. Death would not be enough to stop the pain of losing her.                                

Bryn remained quiet for a long moment, before reaching out and taking one of his hands into her much smaller ones. Those delicate looking hands were rough and calloused, the fingertips like sheets of ice against his skin. She cradled his hand against her chest, right over her heart.

“I know, Gangrel. You think I don’t know? I live with that dark cloud hanging over me constantly. That all consuming fear that the person you love won’t be there tomorrow…. That you’ll be all alone and miserable again, and what’s the point of even living like that?” He was more than a little surprised to hear her talk like that, given how much she believed in preserving life. She looked up at him, her face a mask of misery.

“I feel exactly the same as you. So how can you not understand why I have to keep you safe?” So many reasons bubbled to the surface of his mind that it took a moment to untangle them all. The main reason was because it was simply too difficult to wrap his mind around the fact that somebody cared about him.  Not because of what he could do for them (or to them), but because of who he was as a person. A lifetime of evidence to the contrary made that hard to believe, but here was the proof, that this woman was willing to throw her life away for him. Of course, he couldn’t tell Bryn all of that- despite her best wishes, he tried to keep his thoughts and feelings hidden from her. Bad enough that Emmeryn had seen him at  one of his lowest points, Gangrel would rather blast himself in the face with an Arcfire tome than let Bryn witness him having a breakdown. She was still waiting for an answer, though (the tactician did not appreciate rhetoric), so he had to tell her something.

“Because I’m the one who’s supposed to be protecting you! I don’t need to hide behind your skirt, I need to keep you safe.” “But why can’t we keep each other safe?” “Because I’m the man!” He raged, instantly regretting how loud his voice had gotten. The last thing they needed was Chrom running into the tent, Falchion drawn and looking for any excuse to cleave him in half. Gangrel lowered his voice, but still seethed with frustration. “I’m the man, and the man is supposed to keep his woman safe. …what else am I good for?” There was the crux of the problem, it seemed. It was impossible not to feel useless around Bryn- she was just good at so many things (well, not cooking, but she was even working on improving that). She wasn’t the one who needed him, he needed her- he’d told her as much when he proposed. Their relationship was entirely one-sided. And now, she even fought his battles for him… how long would it take for her to realize he was simply a drain on her and walk away?

She was looking up at him, with that same horrible, sympathetic look Emmeryn seemed to have reserved for him alone. Somehow, Bryn’s single eye seemed to concentrate the pity, making it even worse.

“Stop staring at me like that!” he hissed, resisting the urge to cover his eyes. It wouldn’t do any good- he could feel that stare, boring into his soul. “Oh, Gangrel…” she even shook her head sympathetically… which made her next words all the more bemusing. “If I sculpted a man out of Pegasus dung, he couldn’t be as full of Pegasus dung as you are.” “…what?!” She frowned up at him, her furrowed brow and pursed lips looking no less intimidating against her pallid complexion.

“What else are you good for? How about making me happy? How about keeping me sane? How about giving me a reason to keep moving forward when every fiber of my being is screaming at me to give up? Or is that not good enough for you? Would you be happy if I were some weak little noble lady who swooned at the first sign of danger?”

For some reason, a vivid image of Maribelle, with her shrill, grating voice and revolting little parasol popped into his mind. The look on his face was all the answer she needed. Sighing deeply, Bryn lifted her legs onto the cot and gingerly laid down, her face tight with pain. She was silent, but obviously fighting back whimpers, evident by her hands clenched tightly in the sheets. Scarcely thinking about it, the former king reached out and took her hand into his own, squeezing it gently to let her know she could squeeze back. She did as she finally stretched out and, were he a lesser man (like Chrom), he probably would’ve cried out in pain himself. She had a really strong grip.

She turned her head slightly to look at him once more. “I’ve been fighting on the front lines all this time, and I have no intention of stopping until there is no more fighting left to be done.” “What if I tell you to stop? I’m your husband, what if I tell you you can’t fight anymore.” Bryn smiled widely at this, a glint of humor in her dark eye.

“First of all, you’re not my husband, you’re my fiancée because someone doesn’t want to get married by a priest of Naga-” “It’s not because he’s a priest of Naga, it’s because the marriage will be null once we get back to Plegia, and also because fuck Ylisseans and their weird wedding traditions.” Gangrel had already made it quite clear time and again how he felt about getting married amongst the Shepherds. Brides wearing white? No feast? Fuck that noise. The paler woman chuckled softly.

“Well then, until we get to Plegia, you can’t order me to do anything, and even once we’re there, you still can’t order me to do anything because I outrank you- you’re just a foot soldier now, remember?” Dammit, why did he ever say that aloud? But Bryn still wasn’t finished. “And even once we’re married and you’re king again, you still can’t order me to do anything.” “Why the blazing hells not?!” It wasn’t as if he had any intention of ordering her around. He wasn’t one of those pathetic excuses for men who felt like a big shot because they treated women poorly- he could pick on someone his own size, thank you. But he would think that when he was a proper king again that she might hold a little more respect for him, at least… She simply smiled benignly at him.

“Because I’m stronger than you, Gangrel. I can beat you in combat without even breaking a sweat.” “That was a one-time occurrence!” he seethed, his cheeks burning with embarrassment. How could she bring that up now? “All three times? You shouldn’t feel bad, dear- I’m stronger than most of the men in this army. Hells, most of the girls are. We just have a more useful skill set.” “… if you’re still trying to make me feel better about being completely worthless, congratulations; you’ve failed miserably.”

“What I’m trying to do is tell you that I don’t need you putting yourself in harm’s way to keep me safe.” For the briefest moment, the wind was taken out of his sails, but he recovered quickly. Or tried to. “I’m not you, I don’t–” “What, do you think I don’t notice all the times you’ve taken blows meant for me? I have one eye, I’m not blind. Hells, you’ve been doing it longer than I have, I’m ashamed to say.  I probably would’ve been killed a while back if not for you, and while I know I should be grateful- and I am, Gangrel, I truly am- it makes me sick to my stomach to see you get hurt in my place. Especially when I should be smart enough not to get caught unawares in the first place.”

She reached out, lightly brushing the backs of her fingers across his side, tracing the faint remains of one of the first scars he’d gotten since joining the Shepherds. It had been a skirmish, much like the one today, the only real difference being that back then, he could barely stomach the annoyingly cheerful tactician who always hounded him. He could’ve easily let that Risen spear her like a fish- he held no affection for her and it would’ve served her right for not paying attention. But he couldn’t. For some reason that eluded him to this day, he had thrown himself in front of her, taking the blow and loosing a decent amount of blood in the process. But honestly, he hadn’t regretted it, even back then. Now, he was thankful for that knee jerk reaction.

Pulling her hand away from his side, Gangrel laced his fingers with Bryn’s. He could just see the glint of her engagement ring (he’d buy her a much nicer one when they went back to Plegia). “If a few more scars is the price to keep you by my side, then I’m happy to pay it.” “I feel exactly the same way.” Bryn said stubbornly. His sentimental mood was crushed with a wave of annoyance and frustration.” “That is so fucking stupid!” “You’re stupid!” For a long time, they glared at one another, daring the other to back down first. Of course, stubbornness and a refusal to admit when they were wrong were two of the things they had in common.

“We are a terrible couple.” He said finally, sitting on the cot beside her.” “We’re probably going to kill each other one of these days.” Bryn agreed, curling around him. “I’d rather you kill me than some Risen’s stray arrow.” “I don’t want you to die in a random skirmish, either. Or ever, from anything.” She sighed deeply. Closing her eye. Her weariness seemed to finally be taking it’s toll on her. “Look, I promise to stay safe if you’ll do the same.” “What?” He was completely thrown for a loop by that seemingly random request.

“What I was saying before before I got derailed, thank you very much, was that I have no intention taking myself off the front lines. And I have a feeling that you won’t stop fighting either.” “Not until you stop or I get the grisly end I was promised.” Bryn opened her eye and glared daggers at him. “Neither of those things is happening. Which is my point. We spend more time fighting each other’s battle’s than paying attention to what’s in front of us. So let’s just try to keep our eyes on our respective part of the battlefield, at least a little more than we do now.” “…you only have one eye, Bryn. You can’t even see the whole battlefield.” “I compensate for that!” She snapped at him. “Stop trying to make excuses to die before me, dammit! I want to grow old together.” Gangrel laughed wryly.

“I never think about getting old.” It was mostly because he never expected to live as long as he had. “Well, you need to start. Didn’t you promise me you’d love me even when I was an old crone?” “Of course I will.” He said truthfully, leaning down to press his lips against her cheek. He’d love her till the day he died, however soon that might be. “I’ll love you no matter how old and gross you are. But I never said anything about me getting old.” A small, but surprisingly strong hand wrapped around his throat.

“Excuse me?” “What? I’m just saying, women get ravaged by age more than men.” “Says the man who already has crow’s feet and frown lines deeper than Wyvern Valley.” “You swore you’d stop making that comparison!” “Then stop making weird faces like that- it creeps me out.” As they continued arguing, any promise of staying safe was long forgotten. It didn’t matter though; it was unspoken, but very clear neither had any intention of letting the other die before them.

Oh, this image is blessed. I always feel like I'm the only one drawing fanart of him. He needs so much more love than he gets~

Gunter is still my favorite!

Something else I have to draw one day. I remember reading another translation back when it first came out in Japan, where Flora said "One day, when he is no longer able to stand by himself, I want to be there to help him" and god did that choke me up. Ever since then, I've had two branching head canons- one where he dies a few years after the end of Conquest... and one that's even darker and sadder, if that's possible.

Nohrian Festival: Gunter and Flora Conversation Pt. 1 & 2

(Done as half of a request)

Caring Grandpa Gunter is adorable. Caring Surrogate Granddaughter Flora is also adorable.

Originally I thought that Flora was talking about her feelings for Jakob again. It’s not Jakob. I’m glad to see that it’s not completely a core piece of her character.

Keep reading

Oh, I get it! It's funny, because they grew up in a hellish land without sunlight!

I SWEAR THIS WAS FUNNIER IN MY HEAD