#!! since gil is here

[gilbirda]

DPxDC Prompt: Wrong Number Jazz edition

Based on this amazing post I saw

"Danny, it's been a week. Sam said you took the phone with this number. Everything alright?"

"Please. It's been a month now. I just want to know if you are alive."

"I won't look for you. I know I promised. But you promised to check in."

"The funeral was today. They didn't attend, forgot what day it was."

"I miss you."

Jason came back from a Outlaw out-of-the-grid mission finding messages from an Unknown number. A quick check gave him a name and address, and also news about a missing little brother. The more he searched the fishier it all looked.

Good thing he didn't unpack his things yet.

[akhaste]

Lee Yoon - Song of the Bandits Sketchs/ Studies 1920's & 1890's

Bonus: 1920's, but without the 'stache

[softquietsteadylove]

During the show the tightrope breaks and Thena falls. Luckily Gil catches her but gets injured. The whole crew protects both of them when kro is very angry that Gil touches Thena. Some drama for the circus one

"Thena!"

It felt as if it happened in slow motion. Thena was in the middle of the routine as usual, and things were going well. She and Angus were both strong and ready for the show.

But something wasn't right. Gil had watched as Thena froze on the tightrope, her whole body locking up on the spot. He had looked to where her eyes were anchored, running out from behind the scenes. Something was wrong with the joint where the line was attached.

Then it snapped.

"Thena!" He ran as fast as he could. There were no nets, as per a certain ringleader's demand (because it didn't instill the right excitement in the crowds). There was no protecting Thena from a bone shattering fall.

He plowed into her, just barely managing to catch her as they both rolled and skidded from his momentum. He somehow managed to keep a hold of her within his arms. His shoulder was most certainly jostled from where it was supposed to be, and he wouldn't be surprised if he had a number of bruises along his ribs and arms.

The crowd was up on its feet, women and children screaming. Kro was already trying to assure them and tell them there was no need to panic (no need to ask for their money back).

"Gil?"

He opened his eyes, scared to look at what happened. But he grunted as Thena leaned over him, her hair pooling on his chest as he lay on his back. Her hand trailed over his cheek. "Are you okay?"

"Oh Gil," she whispered, her hand sliding down his cheek and neck and over his chest.

Gil looked around them. It was chaos, and this was definitely a worst case scenario. At least Thena wasn't hurt, but the repercussions would ripple through the whole crew. They had to check the equipment, they would have a meeting with everyone from every department. And Kro would be furious.

"Hey!"

Gil saw from somewhat upside down as Kro caught sight of them. He didn't know why the guy was anywhere but by his wife's side, but he was too tired to think about that now. He watched as Kro began the process of storming over to them.

"Get your filthy hands off of her!"

Oh, he was talking to him. Gil blinked, feeling as if he were hearing everything underwater, and his head hurt something fierce. But Thena was unharmed, that was all that mattered to him.

"Gil," Thena whispered to him. There was a flurry of motion around them, the crew rushing to talk to Kro about what to do about the broken highwire. They would serve as a barricade for them. "Can you see me?"

He could only ever see her. He nodded, groaning as he tried to sit up.

"It's okay, easy," she cooed to him as she helped pull him up. "We're going to get you some help."

Gil tried to hold himself up, but damn it felt hard. He didn't think he was really this heavy, but he couldn't keep his feet straight. He was like a newborn colt trying to walk for the first time.

"Come on, big fella," some of his friends from the crew got on either side of him. Of course Thena couldn't be the one to help try to walk him to the medical tent. But she smelled nicer than these guys.

"Gil," she called to him again, dragging his eyes up to hers. "Just look at me. You can't fall asleep."

Why not? He was dead tired and he felt like he'd been wrestling with the elephants.

"Just keep looking at me," she whispered, leading him with the sweet lyricism of her voice. Like a damn angel, that woman.

Gil sighed as they finally got him to the medical tent and seated on a bale of hay. He really was ready to lie down, but he let Thena drag his head upright again. Although he did whine a little as she shined some kinda light in his eyes.

"You can't sleep like this," she sighed, and then put something cold on the top of his head. His eyes naturally rolled upward, not that he could see whatever it was. She smiled, "it's just from the icebox. We have to keep the swelling down."

Oh, it was his head. That made sense why his ears were ringing, at least. "Are you okay?"

Thena looked at him in a way that made his heart melt. She sat beside him, even letting her knees in her sparkly stockings brush against his in his regular, ratty old trousers. "Thanks to you."

Gil looked at her, now that the chaos from the main tent was behind them. She did look fine, which was a relief. "Couldn't just let you fall."

It was almost not within his control, that was to say. But Thena took his hand in hers. "I know you couldn't. But I owe my life to you, all the same."

His mind was a few steps behind his mouth as he blurted out, "where's your husband?"

Normally he wouldn't bring him up, even just so as to not upset the lady.

But Thena didn't even blink, rubbing her thumb against his, "don't worry about him, for now."

"I wish you didn't have to worry about him," Gil mumbled out. He really was saying whatever was on his mind, huh?

Thena sighed, though, looking at him with those stunning green eyes. "I know. I wish so, too."

Gil closed his eyes as she adjusted the cloth bundle of ice on top of his head. It did feel nice, but it also gave him the chills. "He's gonna blow his top if we can't get the highwire restrung."

"That man would blow his top at the sky if it were the only thing around."

Gil chuckled, although it made his head hurt something awful. He groaned.

"Sorry." Thena brushed the backs of her knuckles over his temple, soothing the ache from the outside in.

Gil looked at the cloth walls of the tent. It was just some canvas, and it was far from impenetrable. But he looked at Thena, feeling like he really did have this moment to keep just to themselves. "Thena...if he ever hurts you, I swear-"

His eyes slid closed as she leaned forward to kiss him. Her lips were as soft as the light of first dawn. If he never believed in heaven before, maybe he did now.

Thena leaned back, her thumbs on his cheeks, "don't worry about me, Gil."

But he did. Every second of every day, he thought of her.

He was painfully in love with someone else's wife. "But-"

She kissed him again, more softly, and more chastely too, leaning back even quicker. "No buts, just try to rest. I can handle Kro."

Gil tried to protest again but Thena stood, leaving him alone on his little hay bale island. He blinked as she exited the tent, the warm glow inside contrasting the cold, blue light outside.

"Is he in there?"

"He's resting. Leave him be, Kro."

"Like hell I will. Bastard thinks he can put his hands on my wife?!"

Gil tried to get to his feet, stumbling to his knees at first. He tried again as the crack of a palm against a cheek sliced through the air. "Th-Thena?"

"He saved my life! More than you've ever done, and if I see you bothering him, I'll give the crowd something that will really scare them away and right out of your greedy hands."

He had never heard Thena raise her voice. He had seen her stand her ground with Kro, and he had no doubt she was as tough as a lady got, even with that brute of a husband. Maybe because of that brute of a husband.

"Ungrateful little whore."

"Call me whatever you want. Gilgamesh is not to leave his own sleeper car until he's healed."

She only ever called him Gil when they were alone.

"Fine, but the show goes on, even if the vet starts bleeding from the eyes."

Gil tried to stand again. He had to say that he would be fine. He couldn't let Thena be left alone with that devil. He groaned, managing to stand and take a few steps.

He only made it out of the tent in time to see Kro all but dragging Thena away, probably to berate her for talking back to him in front of the crew like that. But she turned and waved to him, assuring him of her well being.

Gil stood there, watching the woman he loved get dragged away by her husband. He couldn't make out any of the words his fellow crewmen and friends were chattering at him. All he was thinking about was how Thena had kissed him, and in such a way that could only mean that she loved him too.

[sheshells-jrwi]

something something gillion using chips marriage as an excuse to distance himself from wanting to be with chip (romantically) so he doesnt have to explore and reflect on this part of himself

like you dont have to think “is it ok if i as the champion of the undersea want to kiss him?“ if you can immediately cut it of with “NO HES MARRIED!!!!! ANGRY FACE“ and not actually think about it

[theinfinitedivides]

'i think Jang Hyun orabeoni will wake up soon... because he has Ryang Eum by his side.' *turns to Ryang Eum* 'the day that Jang Hyun orabeoni went to do business at the border a while back, you got into a fight with a customer while playing at the kibang and were injured. do you know he came by that night? after hearing that you were hurt, he gave up on 7000 silver nyang to come back. he only came to check that you were okay, and then he left. an unnie i know asked him, when she was serving him, why he is always talking about Ryang Eum, and he supposedly said to her that his pleasure in life is in seeing Ryang Eum enjoy his life. so he would never leave Ryang Eum alone and die.'

[misty-moth]

Just have to watch my rank for the next 40 minutes like a hawk 👀

[sesamenom]

trying to figure out Lomion's relationships for the reverse gondolin au - so far I have Rog as his mentor instead of Eol and Celegorm as his "uncle". he's not particularly close with Idril, but Turgon helps him with the politics/statecraft stuff. anyways I can't figure out a marriage candidate for him for heir-identification purposes so

[arwyd]

“the revolution will not be televised” and “we’re here and we’re ready to livestream the apocalypse” are two sides of the same coin in a way I cannot exactly fully explain

[teafiend]

Revisiting the second-half Episode 5, and KGY’s relationship with Go-Sunbae is so heartwarming. 🥰🥹 I always learn so much about her from their interactions, and each “lack” in her life made me want to head canon something better for her post-canon. She makes my heart ache, and made me want to give her everything.

(GIFs from @Nungchae, Twitter/X)

[neriyon]

Okay done with raid and msq, I'll have to sit for a while and think what I want to say because huh, things sure happen.

[finmoryo]

Chapters: 2/2 Fandom: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Major Character Death Relationships: Fingon | Findekáno/Maedhros | Maitimo, Ereinion Gil-galad & Maedhros | Maitimo, Ereinion Gil-galad & Fingon | Findekáno, Elrond Peredhel & Maedhros | Maitimo, Elrond Peredhel & Ereinion Gil-galad Characters: Ereinion Gil-galad, Maedhros | Maitimo, Fingon | Findekáno, Sauron | Mairon, Elrond Peredhel Additional Tags: War of the Last Alliance, Time Skips, Canonical Character Death, fingon is trans but it's not really mentioned, Father-Son Relationship, Gil-galad Son of Plothole, Angst, Character Death, Gil-galad Russingonion, Canon-Typical Violence, Angst with a Happy Ending Summary:

At the beginning of a new age, Maedhros reminisces.

[queers-gambit]

Match Made in Grey Haven

prompt: ( requested ) you find yourself in what feels like a distant relationship through penned letters. overcome with shyness during his visits, you avoid Herald Elrond - until your grandfather (and co.) steps in as matchmaker.

pairing: Elrond x shy!female!reader

fandom masterlist: The Rings of Power

word count: 2.9k+

note: it's not much, i'm so sorry.

warnings: takes place BEFORE the events of TROP, abrupt ending, small hurt mostly comfort, feelings are hard, author is very abrasive and isn't sure this is conveyed fully as "shy" so i'm sorry, anxiety, unedited, wonky brain goes wonky, fluff, small drama, lost + healthy family relationships, romance, friends-to-lovers.

part two: The Risk

"You appear ill at-ease," Círdan mentioned as he casually strolled from the shadows of his workshop, the last of the day lingering in a warm glow, "which I am not accustomed to seeing on a face such as yours."

Elrond, busy at work carving one of the perfect ships his old master was crafting a fleet of, barely slowed down but did glance up in acknowledgment. He sniffled hastily, looking back at the pliable wood under his hands.

"Merely focused, my Lord, nothing more."

"Hm," Círdan hummed, pacing around slowly, hands clasped behind his back, chin up, shoulders back, grey locks glistening in familiar waves, "interesting choice of words."

"How so?" Elrond paused to pet the curve of the wood, trying in vain to hide his true bubbling feelings. He went straight back to work, aware Círdan watched him closely.

"Y/N said the exact same." This made the High King's Herald pause in full, Círdan smirking, "Ah, just as I suspected."

"I do not think - "

"You fool nobody but yourself," Círdan chuckled, waving off Elrond's words and stepping closer to admire the boat carving. "She cares for you, too, you know?"

"With respect, my Lord... But you are mistaken," Elrond deflected. "Your granddaughter and I, we are merely friends - if that. We only exchange letters - "

"And feelings," Círdan pointed out, watching Elrond flush under his interrogation. Just outside the doors, you approached, thinking you would fetch your grandfather for supper; slowing when the older, wiser Elf tisked, "Ah, come now, Elrond, do not look so forlorn, there are worst fates than that of emotional - "

"With respect," Elrond repeated, cutting Círdan off, your hand hovering over the door handle, "there are no emotions involved when it comes to your granddaughter."

You froze.

"Yet I will not believe that," Círdan shot back.

"There is little to be said that might sway you, my Lord, but it is true. We are..." You listened as Elrond took a sharp inhale, "We are friends, nothing more. Our foundation lays in companionship, we exchange letters - share our thoughts, ideas, and feelings. There's nothing more."

Círdan hummed in amusement, "That so? Then... Why, in the past 6 months, have you come here - what is it? Six? Seven times?"

"Eight," Elrond corrected automatically, wincing when your grandfather chuckled and you lowered your hand. Yet you did not walk away yet.

"You claim business with the High King brings you to us so frequently," Círdan continued, "yet, the matters discussed can be solved through letters alone. Nothing that deems an emissary. So, tell me in truth... Why?"

"My Lord?"

"Why do you come? I know it is not for Gil-Galad alone, so, tell me in truth, why the frequent trips?"

You could hear Elrond resume his wood carving and you became acutely aware of your position. Backing away, you fled the scene, petrified over the idea of being caught; yet your mind was stuffed full with what you heard. It'd been years since you first met Elrond, the young, fresh, baby-faced Herald of the High King; and while initially fascinatingly attracted to him, you were detrimentally shy.

Like, so shy, it makes you mute - to an extent.

He wasn't a Herald yet, though, and came to apprentice under your grandfather. Elrond became a constant presence around the Grey Havens - a talented, shining star of a student who studied diligently. You admired his work from afar at first, then, Círdan asked you to row one of Elrond ships around the harbor.

It was well known you were the apple of Círdan's eye; his favorite thing in the material world, the reason he refused to give himself over to the Valar yet. He was supposed to sail... But his daughter was soon to give birth, so he waited; and thankfully, because plague claimed your father and mother from complications of your birth. So, Círdan raised you.

Elrond panicked at Círdan's request, stepping into your pathway without thought and gasping, "No!" You shied back into your grandfather's side, the dark haired Elf amending swiftly, "I apologize, I-I did not mean to be so - so abrupt. But... Let me work a few more days, ensure it is to perfection."

You smiled gently and nodded, Círdan smirking and leading you away - the start of a formal friendship. After testing Elrond's boat (when ready), you sent him a note that expressed your impression and complimenting his woodworking skills, even saying you looked forward to his future creations.

His first letter back to you was one of thousands, and the start of his Heraldry.

Yet now, in present day, you wondered if these letters weren't enough and if he thought you untruthful in your declaration of affection. While your companionship had now lasted decades, you were still insecure enough that you lose wit, cheek, and tongue when he's around. And now, the past half a year, you've seen him eight times and couldn't muster your courage, and perhaps, it wasn't enough for Elrond anymore.

You just expressed yourself better in words! And you didn't leave Círdan's side; you did not venture around Middle-earth, never left your sanctuary. You adored Elrond's accounts of adventures and travels and work, it was your only time to "live", even if vicariously.

Now, worriment set in; anxious that you weren't enough.

"Ah," Círdan hummed as he and Elrond entered your humble home for supper, "it smells divine in here, sweet girl."

"Thank you," you whispered, setting the table for the meal as Elrond was the one who would not meet your eye.

"I'll be a moment, I need to wash up," he excused himself, always presentable; forever perfect.

You just sighed as he slipped from the room; a typical guest in your home, especially with his...recent increased business from the High King. "You seem pensive," Círdan noted, taking the bowl of salad to the table for you. "Is there anything on your mind you wish to discuss?"

"Nothing of note."

"Then speak to me of something not of note."

"If it is of no note, Grandfather, why give it voice?"

"Because it still takes up room, be it in your head and heart - which gives it validation to speak of."

You paused at the table, finding him grinning, offering an unamused glare. "I told you not to do that," you reprimanded softly.

"Do what?"

"Your - little - your pearls wisdom!" You groaned childishly, collapsing into a chair. "You can let me stew and figure things out for myself, we do not always have to speak of matters. It is an unfair advantage that I am inundated with your pearls and others toil for direction!"

Círdan chuckled, folding his hands before his dinner plate. "To complain of such an advantage is - "

"I know."

"Then why do it?"

"Because..."

"You are frustrated with your own emotion that you refuse to give life to?"

With a huff, you nodded, "Exactly."

"What is the matter?"

Your head shook in deflection, "Perhaps, I am just overwhelmed. I think I'll take a walk - "

"But supper - "

"I'll eat later," you promised, reaching out to lay your hand on his and smile, "I just need a few moments to breathe. Eat, enjoy, I'll find you later."

You left before another word could be spoken. When Elrond reentered the kitchen, he only found Círdan and wondered, "Where's Y/N?"

"She seemed distraught, saddened by something. She decided to go for a walk, clear her head a bit."

"Right," Elrond nodded, feeling awkward just standing there.

"Come, sit, eat," Círdan invited with a small smirk, "she's probably gone off to the workshop, she likes to write there. Says it's more inspiring than the library. Come, Elrond... She'll be awhile."

Elrond frowned and looked to the door, Círdan knowing his words were replaying in the half-Elf's mind. "Perhaps I should check on her?" He asked his old Master. "It would be wrong to eat without the chef, would it not?"

"I was thinking the same," the older, greying Elf nodded, "though you waste your time, that girl is stubborn - trapped in her mind too often."

"How do you mean?"

"It's why she writes," Círdan explained, "at least, why she writes you, I imagine. She often loses her voice, feels as if she is not entitled to it's very being - so, she writes, uses her words... And seemingly, you understand them best - relate to her, in a way. So," he took a breath, "go, if you wish, but know, she's unlikely to speak."

Elrond was out the door before Círdan could uncork the bottle of wine left on the table. He smirked to himself, musing, "Oh, these kids..."

You had left your home and made a beeline for your grandfather's workshop, shutting the doors with a great big breath of relief before groaning in emotional frustration. "Oh, how silly!" You snipped to yourself, "This is all so silly, it makes no sense! I mean, the way I just shut down? It's so silly! Losing my voice? Over a man? Oh, just rubbish!" Your hands shook out violently. "I just need to say it, you know? I just need to say it - then he knows, he'll know and I can get rid of this silly feeling. He deserves to hear me say it, else he might think he's unwelcome, he might not want to visit..." You were unaware of Elrond approaching the door, opening it as you groaned once more, "OH! He's just a lad! He's just like you, you silly lass! Well, not entirely just like me - but he's just - he's just Elrond! What is there to fear!?"

"Is there someone else here I should address?" Elrond smirked gently as he stepped forward to make himself known, "Or do you often speak of me, to yourself?"

You squeaked and came to a halt, dress twirling around your ankles when you spun to face him. Hands came together, instantly threading your fingers and wringing them together nervously as your visitor smiled gently and slowly (so slowly) stepped forward. With a deep breath, you greeted, "Lord Elrond."

"Oh, please," he sighed, "are we not past formalities?"

"Far beyond," you agreed, shaking your head and facing the open wall that showcased the harbor and horizon; the last of the sunlight streaking the sky with water-painted color.

"It felt wrong to indulge on such a gorgeous creature without the architect being there to experience it first," he told you, coming to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with respectable distance still between you. "Yet you fled before..."

"I'm sorry," you blurted out, feeling suffocated briefly, "I could not linger."

"Is there a reason to feel unwelcome in your own home?"

You took a breath, "Well, um, it's just - it's you... You are the reason..."

Elrond startled, "What? I-I'm sorry, what have I done? What did I do?"

"You're you," you turned to him, "and that's not your fault, but you're you, and it drives me to insanity."

"I don't think I follow? I thought - in our letters, I thought we had a connection. That we understood one another...? And now that I'm here, you shy away from me, have I truly offended you so gravely?"

"No, Elrond, you have not offended me - it's the opposite," you risked your own comfort and reached out for his bicep first; which, in turn, made him step closer. "You are not betrayed, nor are you mistaken. There's a connection, of course there is. I do not know anyone who could fake such affection for such an extended period of time," you scoffed.

"Perhaps Sauron - "

"But you nor I are he."

"No," Elrond smiled gently, shifting his arms downward to hold your elbows and caress you into his chest as your hands were rearranged to his chest, "we are not, thank the Valar."

"I do not deceive you. The affection I hold for you, it's authentic and genuine. It's real, Elrond, it's real..."

"It is?" He asked, lifting a hand to hold your jaw; thumb caressing the apple of your cheek.

"It is. I was just... You disarm me. You make me small again, you make me tongue-tied, confused, excited - like everything is new again. And it both scares and invigorates me that I do not know what to do in those moments, so I hide from you. In your letters, I can plan my words; but when you're here, in front of me, under my hands," you cooed, petting his velvet tunic, "I lose my nerve. My senses..."

Elrond chuckled, hands drifting down to hold you by the base of your ribcage, "This... This is a relief to hear. I worried I offended you, that I had upset you in some way. That I ruined this before it had a chance to take shape."

"Hardly," you mused. "I lose my nerve around you, I feel so silly - so young and green to love..."

"'Love'?" He repeated.

"Oh, I just - I only meant - "

"Take comfort in the fact that the feeling is mutual, my sweet." Elrond chuckled, caressing your cheek lovingly, "I fear the High King may grow tired of me asking to personally deliver Círdan his letters."

"Perhaps I will have to find reason to visit you?"

"I would like that, perhaps more than I should admit," he whispered, slowly lowering his lips onto yours for a much awaited kiss - giving you every opportunity to back out, but it's not like you ever would. Not when you've waited for this for so long. His hand now cupped your jaw, sliding sweetly towards the back of your neck. Kissing Elrond was everything you thought: soft, gentle, evenly-paced, commandeering, all encompassing, and mind-numbing; you never wanted this to end, you never wanted to stop kissing him.

However, your moment was cut short by a loud crunching; pulling back as Elrond did, both turning to the main doors to spy your grandfather, Círdan, standing there smugly. He was holding a bowl made of bamboo, eating a crisp salad, barely holding back his grin. Upon seeing his mirthful expression, you deflated into Elrond's chest; his arm coiling around your waist to keep you anchored in place while the other dropped to open his stance - proving he didn't feel defensive.

"Grandfather?" You questioned softly.

"Mh," he swallowed his bite, "don't mind me, just appreciating the fruits of my labor."

"I beg your pardon?" You laughed.

Círdan shrugged, "You are both young and intelligent. Wise. Insightful," he listed, "yet you are so naïve to think this union was yours alone."

Elrond glanced down at you in confusion, brows furrowed, asking, "What do you mean, my Lord?"

"Grandfather, it was Elrond and I who penned letters for decades - "

"Indeed," Círdan agreed, "but why do you think the High King has sent Lord Elrond to us so often these past few months?"

You were both stunned into silence, Elrond asking, "You? You asked him to...to send me?"

"I did," Círdan nodded, "it is disheartening to see my granddaughter, whom I love so utterly and dearly, driven into isolation because emotions can be so complicated and difficult. It was time for you two to finally confront your emotions, and after three months, we both knew we had to up our efforts..."

"The High King was in on this!?" You squeaked, feeling embarrassment seize your heart.

"You know, despite being High King, Gil-Galad is still fun," Círdan defended with a smirk. "So, he devised new engagements to send Elrond here for - giving the two of you longer days together between my responses. He agreed to send Herald Elrond himself here upon my encouragement. From your first interaction, I saw what you two have always felt. It's good of you to admit your feelings, is it not? Relieving, I mean?"

"Terribly," you agreed, Elrond rubbing your waist in support.

"Well, then you'll be happy to know, I've begun my response to Gil-Galad, so you'll have a few more days here, Elrond. I expect that boat done," he teased, "and upon your return to Lindon, I will be sending my granddaughter to accompany you as my own emissary."

"What for?" You breathed in shocked happiness, lips turning up brightly.

"It is time you begin a new education, my girl," he grinned, "and the High King has granted his blessing."

"Why would the High King be involved for my education?"

"I want you on a tour of Middle-earth," he explained, "meeting dignitaries, taking notes on what you see, hear, experience. I want detailed accounts, my girl, for our records so the King has agreed to send Herald Elrond to guide your tour."

"You've done all of that... For me?" You couldn't help the tears that sprung to your eyes, pure glee lightening your heart and head. Then, a sudden thought made you worry, "Why? Do you wish to away with me?"

"On the contrary," Cirdan set aside his bowl and approached you, Elrond letting go so you two could meet in the middle of the workshop, "I despise the idea of letting you go, even to carry my work back to the High King... Knowing you'll return shortly... But sending you on this tour is a necessity, sweet girl, because I only trust your written accounts. It's time... It's time for you to see the world I've long protected you from as it truly is and bring us back update records and accounts, and who better to show it to you than Elrond Peredhel?" He smiled, looking over your shoulder at his ex-student. You felt Elrond near your flank, Círdan looking at the two of you fondly; even reaching out to caress your cheek as he breathed in deeply. "What joy my heart feels, knowing you two have found one another."

"What joy we feel you decided to play matchmaker," you chuckled.

"Well, they say perfection only exists in Valinor, but I was determined to challenge that."

part two: The Risk

requesting rules and masterlist

TROP masterlist

[softquietsteadylove]

Would you do a Thenamesh soft moment with a forehead kiss? Whatever AU goes with it :)

Gil came out of his room with a yawn. It was some time late evening, it seemed. His sleep schedule still wasn't entirely back to normal with the heavy pain meds he was on for his injuries. But he would be in physiotherapy and on desk-duty at work soon enough.

Maybe it was insane to look forward to being back at work given that he had been shot and his collarbone was broken pretty badly. But what could he say?--he missed his job.

He missed Thena.

Although he was seeing more of her than ever, in his current state.

He smiled when he came into the living room, leaning on the wall with the soft glow of his lamp warming the room up. She really was beautiful.

Thena was stretched out on his couch. She kept saying she had to stop doing this, and yet every time he let out a yawn, she would tell him to go and lie down and she would tidy up and then head home. And then he would inevitably come back out to her asleep like this.

Thena had a real angelic look to her, despite the hardened Goddess of War image she presented. She was laid against the arm of the couch, a throw pillow behind her back and head, her hair splayed out behind her and reading glasses still on her nose.

Gil walked over (his limp was improving by the day). He took his time sitting down to look at her. He pulled her glasses off, pushing her hair back when it fell forward with them.

Thena moved faintly in her sleep, pushing the angle of her cheekbone up against his touch more with a sigh.

"Sh," he whispered reflexively, unwilling to give up the opportunity to gaze up on this wonder of beauty just yet. "It's just me."

Thena adjusted on the little set up she had on his couch. It couldn't have been good for her back, but he supposed she was getting pretty used to it. Her eyes fluttered, "Gil."

"Yeah, I'm here," he smiled, getting lost in letting his finger trail over her silken skin. She was so pale, and so blonde, but it really worked on her. Everything worked on her.

These were not the kind of thoughts to have about his boss.

Despite his efforts to lull her back into sleep, she was too alerted to his presence, her eyes fluttering open slowly but surely. She looked like a goddamn fairy tale princess, her eyes soft and green, her lips parting gently. She smiled, "hey."

"Hey," he whispered in the quiet of his living room at some godforsaken hour in the morning. He leaned his back against his coffee table, which Thena had files and papers spread over liberally.

Thena inhaled, trying to muster some energy as she turned over to face him more. "What time is it?"

"No idea," he shrugged. It was probably some time around 3 in the morning. He tilted his head at her, "you comfortable?"

Thena nodded, even though he could see the awkward bend of her spine in her current position. "I've got to stop doing this."

"I keep telling you I don't mind," he whispered in light admonishment of her insistence that she couldn't be falling asleep at his place. "If anything, I keep telling you to just let me set out real blankets and pillows for you."

"Oh, stop it," she sighed, turning herself again, twisting the blanket with her. "There's no need. I just dozed off looking over some things Kingo sent me."

She had done so pretty consistently since she started helping him around the house.

"Sure," he chuckled, ignoring her stubborn - cute - little pout as he reached up with his good hand and adjusted the blanket over her. "Well, feel free to doze off again--is all I'm saying."

"And what about you? Did you just get up?" she whispered, her eyes running over him in the faint light casting shadows all over the place. She automatically started rising up from the couch.

"Hey, take it easy, Boss," he whispered back, putting his hand on her shoulder to ease her back down to her pillow. Maybe he should get new ones--ones that would be more supportive of her neck and gentler on her hair. Since she was sleeping here so much.

Thena sighed, settling back on the pillow as directed. Her eyes travelled over him, and he felt exposed in his white t-shirt and dark sweatpants. He usually slept shirtless, but - again - felt too self-conscious doing so with Thena around.

"Are you in any pain?"

Gil smiled. She asked him that all the time now, since leaving the hospital. He knew she cared--more than she would ever really be able to put into words, knowing her. He tapped his thumb against her cheek, "I'm fine, Thena--really."

She didn't show any sign of response at first, searching him for signs that would contradict his statement. It seemed she was always doing this, lately.

"Thena," Gil said gently, leaning forward. He frowned, "I'm okay, you know. We're both okay."

Her brows knotted up even more, her eyes staring at his sling. "Gil, I'm-"

"No," he shook his head. "Nope, nu-uh--no more apologising. Thena-"

"Gil," she whispered, her voice becoming high and thin. She blinked, and he caught the glassiness in her shimmering green eyes. "You...because of-"

He moved his thumb from her cheek to press into her lips, without a better way of silencing her and her insistence that his injuries were somehow her responsibility. His eyes followed his thumb as he moved it across the plumpness of her bottom lip to the corner of it. "No more of that. It's no one's fault. And you were the one who pulled me out of there, if I have to remind you again."

Thena sighed, at least not arguing with him for the moment. She probably would at some other time, but he could handle that then. For now, she sank back into the couch.

Gil traced his thumb down her other cheek, following the natural slope of the hollow of it. "You are the reason I'm here, Thena. Never forget that."

Her eyes fluttered shut as he leaned all the way forward, pressing his lips to her forehead. It wasn't the first time he'd done this, and it most certainly wouldn't be the last. But this did feel...different.

She blinked at him a few times as he pulled back, solidifying the realisation that he had, in fact, actually done that. He gulped. "Uh-"

Thena reached her hand up to his cheek, pulling him back to her slowly and gently. Her lips pressed to his cheek, still close enough to brush against his skin as she whispered, "go back to sleep, Gil. I'll be here when you wake up."

These were not the things he needed to hear to not think about his boss like this.

Thena settled herself on the couch and throw pillow again, her eyes drooping. She blinked at him, "get some rest."

He just nodded, not trusting himself to speak intelligible words. He stood with the help of the coffee table supporting him, turning out the lamp.

Even without its warm, yellow light, Thena still glowed like a vision form a dream.

"Night, Boss," he whispered as he limped his way back to his room. Not that he was going to get any sleep. His heart was pounding and he was just going to be thinking about the feeling of Thena's lips against his cheek for the rest of the night. Forever.

That was why it was so important to keep calling her Boss--so he could remember that this was the woman he respected and worked with on a daily basis. Not at all the woman he was painfully in love with.

[wordycheeseblob]

Also chev has high boots and his eyes make it look like he's looking at you from above. Reminds you of your station. This makes him more unapproachable than, say, Leon who looks at you head on.

Body language wise & others:

Leon casual and relaxed, he's playing with the hilt and slightly leaning towards you. His colors are warm, the colors of strength, courage, and attention, the last one which he's giving you in full right now. Sincerely.

Gilbert's pose is playful and nonchalant, hand on hip and slight head tilt. It clashed with his imposing uniform. He's inviting you to let your guard down. Black is the colour that absorbs light, it's thus warmer to wear too. A colour that absorbs others, much like Gilbert does with other nations.

Chevaliers is standing very straight and leads away from you, his pose - legs closed and stiff. His head is looking into another direction, he's turned away from you. Whenever someone doesn't really want to talk to another person or needs to be someplace else, some part of them is pointing away. Usually feet. His hand on his hip in no casual manner, almost business-like, ready to reach for the sword. His clothes are asymmetrical in a different way from Gil: they balance out. The left side is all white with the most black fur. The right side is almost all black with a small part that's white cape. He's a complex character who has much duality.

Character Thoughts: Character Design #1 - Chevalier, Gilbert, Leon

My personal outlook on the character design choices in Pri is that the primary objective of the artist behind them was to reflect personality of the suitor rather than to fit within any specific time period. As such, it becomes a question... What can be read from their looks?

Images were sourced from @acrispyapple 's blog.

Chevalier

Chevalier's colour scheme is all black and white, with subtle golden touches. It is fairly simplistic and may draw forward the image of a white tiger -- a ferocious although rare beast. It creates a frightening backdrop for any blood that may be spilled... and accurately enough, may serve as a reflection of a binary logic mindset.

Asymmetric cape allows for greater freedom of movement. The arm he draws his sword with is not going to be restrained under the weight of fabric. His boots look suitable for horse riding and the cut of his jacket, I believe, is meant to resemble military uniforms of centuries prior. Chevalier is covered from his fingertips to his very neck -- there isn't a vulnerability exposed in him. He is vigilant, he is ready to act, he is guarded. His skin will not be first to be cut, poison will not enter his system without struggle, his hand will not slip on the hilt of his sword even as it grows slick from crimson. Chevalier is a knight.

But through and through, he is also royalty. The haft at his hip could be called subtly ornate, albeit the material it's been made of makes it more so "humbly" opulent. The gold he dons speaks of riches, as does the fur at his collar. He's a commander. He is a noble. His position clearly separates him from others.

Chevalier is eye-catching. And were he involved in battle? You'd fear what you'd see. As you should.

Gilbert

Black, white and gold also follow Gilbert around. However, if in Chevalier's case it could have been argued that the split between darkness and light was even, then Gilbert is the dark itself. The rest are merely accents. They do not reveal much of his mystery, do not offer anything past sparse commentary on it... And I believe they aren't supposed to. Gilbert is the unknown. He is threatening and he is very clear about it.

The orders at his chest, the cut of the lapels, his boots -- it is hard not to see signs of Gilbert being involved with military. However, his clothes have clearly not been designed for ease of movement. They seem heavy, like he could get twisted in them at any moment and collapse, not to mention the heat. Long and heavily adorned with patterned accents, gold, they speak of might... But of that becoming of a commander, not a person who fights themselves. The cravat at his neck is yet another sign of how far removed he is from direct action. It is both a liability in combat and a sign of status.

Gloves, cane and eyepatch. Why should a person of his age need them? Surely, this question comes with simple answers... But are they quite correct? There's a dissonance there. You can see his secrets, but it does not mean they will be revealed to you. He, after all, too is guarded.

Leon

Another character dressed in black! But... Leon's is different, isn't it? It speaks of mystery, of secrets, surely, but when combined with noble gold and warm red... It is almost as if he wanted to say "I wish I could tell you, but I cannot". Even if not everything can be made clear, it is evident his actions are underlined with royal scarlet of high ideals.

Leon is a hero. You can see it in his wear -- it is much too informal to place him among the military, but it undeniably shows power and readiness to take up direct action. The guard at his shoulder may be complex, but the same cannot be said about the design of the hilt at his hip. It is simple, so much so that it begs to ask who else could wield it. If that is his weapon of choice, how far above a common knight does Leon see himself? Or... does he consider himself to be above them at all?

Based on the quality of his clothing and detail put into it alone, it is evident that Leon is not a person you may pass on the streets. However, his hands are out there, completely unprotected. And the way he wears his cape? His belts? The sash? It is utterly proper. Even if the lapels of his jacket do not follow any standards for uniforms, it is still buttoned up as it should be. Relaxed (or as relaxed as it may be for royalty), it gives him a laid-back, reliable appearance. The lion insignia clearly signifies who he is.

What are you hiding, Leon? We are at arm's length. You shine too bright... Yet you also mean us no harm.

[theinfinitedivides]

they took out my other daddy cop. rip you were hot while it lasted

[inthehouseoffinwe]

So there’s a note in the Silm saying the Noldolantë was made ‘ere Maglor was lost’ which is why they know about it. So I think it’s safe to say he wrote and finished it before that final silmaril run.

I’m thinking he wrote it and before Elrond and Elros went to Gil Galad, they took a copy each. Maybe Maglor wrote it at their request. Maybe he sent it with them to make sure history wasn’t forgotten. Maybe they wrote it down as he sang in the empty rooms his little brothers once slept.

I think Elrond kept his copy close to his heart, hidden away for a time it would be safe to reveal. I think he would insert verses here and there in his own songs, until the entire thing was split over a hundred different pieces. I think he didn’t reveal it until he got to Rivendell, where he had several copies made.

I think Elros made his copy public, and it was well known across Numenor for many a year, until like many other things, it was lost in the Drowning. Possibly a little before when they wanted to distance themselves from the elves. I think it didn’t come back to Gondor and Arnor until Aragorn became king, a song he’d heard since childhood carefully transcribed in Elrond’s own hand.

With three verses added at the end.

One for Maedhros, lost to the fire.

One for Maglor, lost at sea.

And a final verse for Celebrimbor, caught in the Doom despite his kindness.

No wonder the Noldolantë didn’t make it into Pengolodh’s writings.