#I saw like two of them but I can’t find the one with Gil in it subbed

[royaltea000]

Saw his stage actor and now I can’t act right

[apoloadonisandnarcissus]

Let’s talk Saurondriel Season 3: Predictions

The last episodes of Season 2 kicked off the “War of the Elves and Sauron” plot from Tolkien canon. The rings of power have been created, and Eregion has fallen. At the end of 2x08, we see the survivors from Eregion arriving at a hidden valley near the Misty Mountains: this will be Imladris (more known as Rivendell).

(Why is Gil-galad looking at them like that? Is this foreshadowing for something?)

What is most likely to happen in Season 3: 

Forging of the One Ring; 

Sauron conquest of Middle-earth begins; 

Sauron finding the Nine ring-bearers, and creating the Nazgûl; 

Sauron trying to get the Three Elven rings of power back;

"Days of Flight": Sauron tries to attack Lindon, and Rivendell is founded;

Sauron gets captured by Ar-Pharazôn at the end, or this will be only in Season 4 (Fall of Númenor).

1) The door isn't "shut". It's wide open, now.

If the blood binding hypothesis is correct (and I think it is, because Morgoth’s crown was the Chekhov's gun of Season 2) Sauron and Galadriel, now, have an open line of communication into each other’s minds and souls. And we already saw a preview of this in 2x08:

With them being bound together, Sauron doesn’t need to “tempt” Galadriel anymore (to be his queen): he’ll probably try to actually bring her to his side, this time. Or even act as servant to him, since he wants to bind the Elves to his will, too; and so trying to make Galadriel hand over the Three to him would make sense with Tolkien canon. Sauron probably transferred some of his powers into her, and all of this will most likely kick out Galadriel’s “magical arc” (“elf-witch”).  

How will this play out? Probably dreams, visions and illusions, because, depending on where Galadriel will be (and I’m betting Rivendell and Lindon), he can’t actually go there himself, in the flesh.

Which leads me to the next point: 

2) Will Sauron use another character to get into Galadriel's head, again? 

In Season 2, we saw Sauron using Celebrimbor to get into Galadriel’s head, on two different occasions (2x02 and 2x08): "Are they not the seeds you planted?"

Elrond (2x02): There is no navigating it. The labyrinth is his. As long as you stay in it, you've already lost. He may well want you in Eregion... Galadriel (2x08): All this... was your design from the beginning.

Galadriel’s vision in 2x02 proved that Nenya doesn’t block Sauron’s interference (as many assume), and he pretty much confirms this in 2x08: the ring isn’t free from his influence and power (the same as in Tolkien canon). 

This makes me wonder if he might use Elrond next season for his “evil theatrics”, because this gentle spirit has been acting kind of shady in 2x07 and 2x08, already. And this mystery box might transition to Season 3, and it would be more effective than any other character, really (Gil-galad, for instance). And Season 3 will be a major season for Elrond, too, as he will create Rivendell and become a Elf Lord of his own right.

2) What consequences will the wound from Morgoth’s crown have on Galadriel?

Sauron (2x08) : Galadriel, surely you of all Elves must understand that to find the light, we must first touch the darkness.

This wound will probably be similar to Frodo’s in “Lord of the Rings”, but worse, due to the blood binding. It will never actually heal, either, which means it will have eternal effects on Galadriel herself.  

Galadriel: Sometimes to find the light, we must first touch the darkness. Halbrand/Mairon: What do you know of darkness? Galadriel and Halbrand/Mairon at Númenor forge (1x05)

This wound can’t possibly be ignored by the plot, and I think that the choice of having Galadriel all dressed in white after her healing is intentional, to mislead the audience into believing she emerged “victorious” and “all light” from her showdown with Sauron.

We can’t forget the red herring ending of Season 1, with Sauron arriving at Mordor, appearing victorious himself, as if he was taking over the place. This makes me believe it will be the other way around: I think we will see Galadriel struggling with the Darkness way harder than before, in Season 3 (embodied in her desire for Sauron and power).

A penitent: in her youth a leader in the rebellion against the Valar (the angelic guardians). At the end of the First Age she proudly refused forgiveness or permission to return [to Valinor]. She was pardoned because of her resistance to the final and overwhelming temptation to take the [One] Ring for herself. Tolkien, Letter 320

In Tolkien canon, Galadriel is only able to truly and finally resist Sauron when she refuses Frodo’s offer, and is pardoned by the Valar. That's her (true) last temptation. Thousands of years later. Which means, Saurondriel is far from over in “Rings of Power”. It has just begun.

First: Galadriel will have to face the truth about “Halbrand” and “Sauron” being the same, and that the "Halbrand" she fell in love with was, in fact, repentant Mairon (he was real). Only this can explain why she’s still pining after Mairon’s offer in 1x08 thousands of years later with Frodo (if she believed him to be just an illusion, she would probably have got over it, eventually).  

However, since Galadriel will be probably spiral down into darkness in Season 3, actual Sauron will most likely be seductive and appealing to her.

Galadriel can’t “close the door” of her mind to Sauron on her own. She doesn’t know how. Her “elf-witch arc” hasn’t even begun, yet. Her magical arc will start on Season 3.

3) Gandalf the Mentor

Galadriel will need a mentor to help her with her new-found powers and keep her in the Light (and for her to be able to "close the door" later on) and the only character that can, truly, be up to this challenge is Gandalf. Not sure if this will happen in Season 3 or Season 4.

Both Sauron and Gandalf are Maiar, which means only Gandalf’s power can be a match for Sauron’s. Gandalf was sent to Middle-earth by the Valar to help the Free people fight against Sauron. However, and pretty much like Galadriel herself, he never actually faced him, working against him, indirectly.

Círdan also gives Gandalf his ring of power, Narya, at the start of the Third Age. In one draft is due to his good services to the Elves, but Tolkien never provided an actual explanation concerning what these “services” actually were. Helping Galadriel could offer an actual explanation.

This would explain why Gandalf has the absolute trust and friendship of the Elves (and of Galadriel, above all), why he became a member of the White Council and why Galadriel went to her only known confrontation with Sauron (in Tolkien canon) because of him. 

4) Celeborn’s return?

I don’t think the showrunners should have Celeborn returning before Galadriel is able to actually “close the door” of her mind to Sauron, because (1) it would be kind of weird for Galadriel/Celeborn relationship, and (2) create a rabbit hole of problems for the narrative. And having this happening in Season 3 is a bit premature, and I think they are aware of this too.

It’s been established that Sauron is obsessed with Galadriel, to the point of possessiveness (if “blood binding theory” is correct), and he will remain so for thousands of years later. Meaning: having Celebrían conceived before the “door is closed” could truly mess with Tolkien’s genealogies because there is no way Sauron would allow that to happen without his interference (Half-Maia Celebrían, anyone?).  

At this point, Celeborn has to return to Middle-earth alongside Glorfindel. It’s the only scenario that makes sense (and Sauron already talked about the Fall of Gondolin). In Tolkien canon, Glorfindel is sent back to Middle-earth by Manwë somewhere in the Second age (around the time Sauron forged the One ring), and as an emissary from the Valar. However, he only had any significant role to play in the story after the War of the Last Alliance (when Sauron is defeated). And since “Rings of Power” has already changed some of Tolkien’s timelines, they can have Glorfindel arrive at the very end of the Second Age instead, in Season 5 (the “epilogue” of the show).  

There is no way Celeborn is alive, or being held captive anywhere, at this point. He has to be dead and in the Halls of Mandos “resurrecting” until he’s re-embodied later, and allowed to return to Middle-earth.

[dani-luminae]

Asha Selvina

Part 2 of ???. Part 1 here.

Yes, somehow, more of my Wish and Descendants crossover.

~~~

Asha’s first very real second thought about this entire decision came when she saw the spell that Mal called up to take them back to the world where she and Uma came from. Her magic was green, and the color reminded Asha starkly of someone else.

But this magic didn’t crackle like lightning or leapt at anything in reach, not like Magnifico’s tainted powers. Her powers wove together like sparks, contained and – for the moment – not a danger to anything around them.

Uma must have been able to see Asha’s hesitance, because she said, “It’s stable. You don’t have to worry. Mal wouldn’t hurt you, especially when that would squander such a chance to help Ben.”

However, Asha couldn’t help but notice how Uma said this a bit more forcefully than maybe necessary, and with a sharp glance at Mal as if she was reminding her of this.

Mal looked annoyed that Uma was reminding her of this, like she was a child. “Of course not.”

Valentino considered the portal as a doorway opened between their home and the realm where Mal and Uma had come from. Through the archway of magic, they could see green grass and trees. “Ooh, real grass!” Without second thought, he bounded through the doorway.

Asha clasped her hands tight, took one glance back at the starlit world she was leaving behind, and reminded herself, I’ll be back. Stars couldn’t cease to be unless she willingly gave her life and her powers to another. There was no power known anywhere in the realms capable of trapping her.

So, with a deep breath, she stepped towards the portal.

On the other side, it took a few moments to decide how she wanted to appear. As a girl, like she had once been, in her dress from Rosas – the same one she kept carefully preserved, with all its embroidery from her mother? Or as a star, like her friend had once been, shining and exuberant and so very adorable – before the fateful fight with the powerful sorcerer?

Or something in between?

She wasn’t entirely sure.

~~~

Evie was in the kitchen. While midday sunlight poured down on the lawn outside the windows, and a tea kettle was beginning to simmer on the stove, she sat at the counter in tense silence, with her phone in hand, waiting for any word from her friends. Jay and Harry were helping the royal guards. Carlos and Gil were at the castle to keep an eye out for any new danger. And Mal and Uma –

From somewhere outside the windows, there was light – brighter than the sunlight and with it, a loving warmth, as if something incredibly kind and incredibly powerful had just arrived. The light faded and Evie turned towards the windows, hoping –

The door opened unexpectedly, and she bolted to her feet in surprise. She expected trouble, but she only saw Mal and Uma. Both of them had left not even an hour ago, in search of a star, of all things, and now they were back.

Mal didn’t say anything immediately, but Evie took note of how it seemed to be only the two of them. Her heart dropped. “Did you – did you not find the star?”

“We found her,” Mal said in a clipped tone, and pointed back through the door. Evie leaned across the counter to see, and outside, she caught a glimpse of – a girl. She was surprised. She hadn’t been expecting a girl. But then again, what had she been expecting at all? This girl had a hood up over her head, dressed in tones of purple with pink flowers on her skirt, and was standing on the edge of the patio, looking across the lawn.

“Yep,” Uma said. “That’s Asha. She brought her talking pet goat, too.”

A star-girl with a talking goat. Okay. Evie supposed she’d seen weirder. “So… why didn’t you take her right to the castle?”

“Too forthcoming,” Mal said, taking a pear out of the bowl of fruit on the countertop.

Evie knew her friend too well. She sighed. “M, we talked about this. I know you hate that you can’t help Ben, but holding her back will only hurt him more.”

For a moment, irritation flit across her face. But Evie was right, and there was no arguing that. “I know… I do.”

Asha couldn’t hear much of this conversation from outside. She was too busy watching as Valentino face-planted in the lawn.

“Whoo! Smell that good old-fashioned dirt!” He shouted, his voice a little muffled by the greenery. “Been a long time since I frolicked in real grass!”

Asha smiled. Yes, it felt good to stand on solid ground again. But while Valentino was engrossed in the plants and the mud, she was focused on something else. A familiarity imbued into the whole land, one that took a few moments for her to recognize. “This is Rosas!”

Valentino raised his head from the grass. “Huh?”

“Well. Was Rosas,” Asha amended. “Once.” Time had passed… how much time, she didn’t know. Stars didn’t count years like humans did. She looked at the cottage behind her, the stone-paved driveway with a strange vehicle, like a cart or carriage that didn’t need animals to pull it. Nothing was familiar, nothing but the sense that this land had once been her home. “This is the same world, though of course… changes have been made. Humans are incredible, even without magical help.”

Valentino frowned. It seemed that unlike Asha, the realization that they’d returned to Rosas – in a way – was not as exciting. “Well, that’s easy to see. So,” he hopped to his feet, “where’s this kid you’re supposed to be helping?”

The reminder snapped Asha out of her reverie. They weren’t here to sightsee, they were here because she was needed. “Uh, I assumed they’d take us to him. But I guess I’ll ask.” She turned and crossed the patio. The doors were still wide open, so she cautiously stepped inside. “Hey, Mal? Uma?”

Evie jumped at the unexpected voice, like the girl had crept up on them. She was even more surprised to see a pretty face with golden flecks like freckles, glinting golden starlight woven into her long braids, and a jeweled clasp on the front of her tunic.

Asha smiled sheepishly at Evie’s surprise. “Um… hi. Where is Ben?”

Mal chewed on a bite of the pear and didn’t answer. In fact, she gave no indication that she’d heard Asha’s question at all.

Asha just started to wonder if she hadn’t spoken aloud, or perhaps not in a way that they could necessarily hear, before Evie shook off her shock. “He’s at the castle,” she said, straightening and setting down her phone. “Let me grab my keys, I can drive you –”

Asha backed away a couple of steps, trying to demure. “Oh, no, you don’t have to. I can go there on my own, I don’t want to inconvenience –”

Mal’s green eyes snapped to her, and her voice was forceful. “You are not going on your own.”

“Mal!” Evie admonished her friend before Uma could. Before Mal could answer defensively, Evie – ever accustomed to her best friend’s attitude – sweetened her tone. “Do me a favor and go grab my keys for me?”

It was almost surprising that Mal didn’t argue. She already knew her tone had been too sharp. She hadn’t meant to act harshly. She just turned and left the kitchen, going off to find Evie’s keys for her, and actually a little thankful for the reason to step away.

Evie’s shoulders drooped slightly. “I really thought we talked through this,” she said sadly.

Uma had expected every bit of attitude, and was unsurprised. “That’s why I knew I had to be the straightforward one when we met Asha. If we left it to Mal, she wouldn’t tell Asha anything.”

Evie understood. After all, if Uma hadn’t volunteered to go with Mal to find the star, then Evie herself would have. To Asha, Evie said, “Don’t worry about Mal. She’s just frustrated because –”

“Because she’s not the one able to help Ben,” Asha guessed. “I figured.”

Evie nodded sadly. Then, her phone made a noise, she glanced at the screen, and stepped away to answer it, holding it up to her ear. Asha watched, mystified, and completely missed when Uma murmured something about “check on the news” and walked through a doorway into a different room.

Asha watched her disappear, and then a voice next to her said, “You’re the star? The one they had a fight about?”

She jumped. She didn’t realize someone had approached. When she turned, she found a young girl, maybe fourteen years, with colorful hair in pigtails and round glasses. This was Dizzy, though Asha had no way of knowing her name.

Asha smiled weakly. “Well, I am a star. Presumably the one they’re searching for. But I don’t know about any fight.”

Dizzy studied her. She looked like a girl – well, a girl who shined at the edges like a mirage in the sunlight if she moved too fast – and she wore such plain clothes. Wouldn’t a star wear something more grander? Or… why did she look human at all?

“I thought you’d look more like a… well, a star,” Dizzy said.

Asha’s smile become bolder. There, finally, was something she knew exactly how to respond to. “Well, I can. Watch this!” With a blink of bright golden light, she disappeared, and a second later, a little being like a shooting star zoomed around the room, trailing golden sparks behind her.

Dizzy gasped in delight and Evie made a startled noise. Asha whirled around and circled Dizzy several times before pausing level with her face. Dizzy stared, fascinated, at the cherubic little star in front of her, and then jumped slightly as Asha extended a single arm and gave her the gentlest little tap, a boop! on her nose.

Dizzy laughed. Asha beamed – shining brighter – then turned and zoomed out of the kitchen. Evie shouted after her, but Dizzy was already racing behind her.

Mal, who had just come down the stairs with the keys for Evie’s car, leapt back with a gasp as a tiny gold star rocketed past in front of her, followed by a sprinting Dizzy. She leaned around the corner to watch them, and they disappeared through the doorway into Evie’s workshop.

The workshop was lovely. It reminded Asha of her mother’s workshop in their home, sewing and spinning. Light poured in through the glass panes in the massive windows, and among drawings scattered on desks there were mannequins draped in half-done dresses, pinned seams and unhemmed edges. One of the mannequins was done up a little shabbier than the others, and pinned to the wall behind it was a drawing of a gown – strips of silk and other fabric sewn with a thousand little sequins and ruffles on the waist.

“Yeah… that’s mine,” Dizzy said, a little shyly, as she caught up and saw Asha looking at the drawing. “It’s gonna take forever to put together.” She reached up and fixed a tack on the corner of the page. “I just wish everyone else could see how I imagine it. I think even Evie’s a little confused –”

Asha jumped at the words I wish. Before Dizzy could ask what she said wrong, Asha darted past her. She turned to watch as Asha darted around and around the mannequin with the dress, dizzying circles that were hard to watch. But a moment later, as Asha booped the mannequin’s lopsided nose, the most incredible thing happened. With a shimmer, the half-done skirt poofed out and then cascaded down to the floor. Ruffles sprouted exactly where they were in the drawing. Seams folded just right and were stitched together in seconds with shiny thread that showed just enough to match the patchwork look of Dizzy’s drawing. Sequins sparkled in a thousand places.

In just a few moments, the mannequin had gone from wearing a mess of scraps and pinned swatches, to the exact dress that Dizzy envisioned and had tried to capture in her drawing. A few extra sequins drifted to the floor like errant snowflakes.

Dizzy covered her mouth. It was incredible! “Wow! You’re just like the Fairy Godmother!” She said, then decided that wasn’t right. “No, wait – you’re way better!”

Asha had no clue who that was, as she drifted away from the masterpiece and took in the other sketches and drawings on the walls of the workshop. Clearly, styles had changed since she had last stepped foot in this world. She supposed she’d been right now to reappear in her old dress from Rosas; it would have stood out immediately.

Mal watched, completely speechless for a few moment, until she finally managed to stammer, “Wait, how, is that – A-Asha?”

“I think so,” said Evie softly, having already forgotten her phone call.

Uma was less stunned than they were. From the first moment she’d stood close to Asha, she’d sensed her power. “I guess the star thing was more literal than we first guessed.”

A second later, Asha reappeared in a human form, still with her long braided hair and golden freckles, but her clothes had changed. Taking inspiration from some of Evie’s designs, she’d chosen a look that was almost modern: a purple midi-length gown with a little cape over her shoulders. Her star-shaped jeweled clasp now clung to a belt of golden links at her waist. Her shoes sparkled, and she wore an anklet, decorated with feather-shaped charms. Aside from the golden embroidery on her bodice, her dress shimmered with starlight woven in when the light caught it just right.

“How do I look?” She said, twirling like a princess.

“So lovely!” Evie said, beaming.

“Yeah, sparkly,” Mal said like she was bored. “I’ve got the keys, can we go now?”

Evie nodded in agreement. Asha whispered goodbye to Dizzy – and gave her one last gentle boop on the nose – before she followed them, leaving through the doors of the cottage. As she’d predicted, they headed for the large vehicle.

Valentino was waiting. “Finally, we’re getting a move on!”

“Will they let a talking goat in?” Evie wondered aloud, pulling open one of the doors.

Mal just shrugged.

One look into the vehicle, and Asha didn’t like the enclosed space. But she would tolerate it for civility, and hoped it was a short ride, so she climbed inside and took a seat. Valentino followed, hopping up next to her.

“Oh, this feels fancy!” He said.

“Yeah?” Mal sat in the passenger seat and looked back at them. “Wait ‘til you see the castle.”

Asha looked up in surprise. “Castle?” She repeated.

Mal nodded. “Yeah. Ben lives in a castle, his family’s home. He’s a king.”

“A king,” Asha repeated. “King of where?”

“Of Auradon. Our world.” Mal said it like she thought Asha already knew this.

Asha hadn’t known this. It came as a sudden reminder that even if this boy knew her – or thought he knew her – she didn’t know him.

For the briefest second, and only that, it made her rethink all of this – her decision to come to this world, to try to help him. Only because of what they had said before: a curse that could only be broken by his first love. She had never heard of magic with that kind of stipulation attached to it.

But she knew that she wasn’t familiar with every kind of magic out there. She was still, by stellar considerations, a young star.

Still, from the first moment that entered her mind, she knew that turning back wasn’t an option. Same as when she had talked with her friends.

There was a low rumbling. The vehicle gave a little lurch. Asha had no idea how or what was happening, but it started to move. Given that neither Mal nor Evie panicked, she assumed this was normal.

Valentino glanced at the front seats where Mal and Evie sat. Then, lowering his voice conspiratorially, he said to Asha, “Alright, so we’re up against royalty again. What’s the plan this time?”

Asha rolled her eyes, smiling at the tone in his voice. He sounded so tough and ready for anything. “Well, we’ll start by assuming that not all royalty is like Magnifico,” she told him firmly. “We’ll show up, we’ll see what I can do to help, and we’ll, uh… see where it goes from there.”

That wasn’t a plan, his face said, and she knew it.

[keeloves]

Ginny is allowed to be a bratty teenager.

Virgina *Ginny* Miller from Ginny and Georgia gets a lot of hate. Yes, some of it is warranted however she is a 16-year-old girl. I am tired of seeing her be hated on for her reactions to things that most people would not react well to at all. Let's take a look at things from her point of view for a moment. Ginny was born under unfortunate circumstances, she was born to a homeless 15-year-old teen mom living in poverty, she had the chance to have a decent childhood as in she would live with her grandparents and grow up in a stable home but nope Georgia had to pack up her things and take her daughter with her. Her mom would pack up and leave anytime things got hard where Ginny never was able to stay in one place long enough to make a friend. This happened until she moved to Wellsbury Massachusetts. Life is going pretty well until Ginny finds out some hard truths about her mom now grant it Ginny is reacting to what she found out without knowing the whole story which isn't abnormal. What she found out about her mom, she is a murderer, a thief, and Georgia took out credit cards in Ginny and Austin's name. Yes, Georgia had good reasons for all of the things she did, she murdered first two husbands because they sexually harassed/abused her and her daughter, she became a thief to survive, and she took out credit cards and framed Gil who was already embezzling money one to get rid of him for being abusive and two so she could buy them a place to live. However, in the process she basically ruined Ginny's credit before she is even old enough to get a credit card. However, Ginny not having the full story is struggling to deal with this. The other thing Ginny struggles with is confiding in her mother with anything Georgia will have these extreme reactions, like when a little boy pushed Ginny off her bike, all Ginny wanted was a hug and the boy to receive proper consequences for his actions and what did Georgia do, she went and cut the breaks on his bike. She told Georgia about her microagressive racist teacher. Most parents would call the school and discuss the situation, but nope not Georgia she goes to the school and puts alcohol in his desk. There are more examples of Georgia having extreme reactions to things, but I can't remember them all at the moment. These extreme reactions to things are why Ginny felt safe enough to tell Zion her father that she struggles with self-harm. Zion's reaction, is to cry and comfort his daughter, tell Georgia to figure out a way to help Ginny but he doesn't because she begs him not to. He however decides to put Ginny in therapy and not only that he finds her a biracial therapist. This is another reason that the relationship between Ginny and Georgia is complicated. Ginny is a biracial with a white mom. Yes, Georgia is a great mom and will go through extreme lengths to protect her daughter but as a white woman she has blind spots. For example, she dressed as Scarlett O'Hara a very racist figure. In Georgia's mind she was just a woman who dressed pretty and probably did it because she is proud to be from down south. Too Ginny she saw her mom dress up as a racist figure. Race issues are hard for Georgia to understand as a privileged white woman. Now before people jump down my throat for me calling Georgia a privileged white woman, I don't mean she didn't struggle because trust me she had plenty of struggles, but I just mean is that her none of her struggle came because she was white. She also doesn't grasp that her half black would not be able to get away with half of the crimes she committed. Another reason that Ginny didn't feel comfortable telling her mom about therapy or self-harm is because Georgia is constantly, violating her daughter’s boundaries. Georgia smokes with her daughter’s boyfriends, reads Ginny’s therapy journal without permission, takes a credit card out in her name basically ruining Ginny’s chances of getting a credit card for herself when she is older, and she basically tackled Ginny when she found about her burning herself. On top of that she doesn’t even ask Ginny to if she can sit in on a therapy session she just barges right in and basically makes the session about herself. I am in no means trying to justify Ginny’s actions, but her reactions aren’t unreasonable or unrealistic. All of these things I mentioned are why Ginny needs therapy. Given what Georgia has been through she needs therapy as well. As Ginny matures, she will understand her mom and be less judgmental towards her mom. She truly appreciates her mom but as she put, she is allowed to feel hurt and be upset about stuff that was hard for her.

[silvaswiftcast]

FFxivWrite2023 Prompt #22: Fulsome

Characters: Silva Cataracta, Ricmorn Cataracta, and Hien Rijin

Rating: General

Notes: This takes place sometime between Stormblood Patch 4.1 and Patch 4.2. Silva and Hien are not together yet, but they are slowly testing the waters of where their feelings could potentially lead. Or as I like to call it, Silva is in complete denial that he wants to be romantically involved, while Hien knows she returns his feelings but is too stubborn to say it out loud.

Content Warnings/Additional Tags: Food, Pre-Polyamory Relationship (V Relationship), M/F/M relationship, Messy Feelings, Playful Teasing/Banter.

“That’s… a generous amount of vegetables you have there, my dear,” Ricmorn said after a pause, his eyes unable to look away from their island countertop covered in food.

Silva snorted. “It’s an absurd amount more like it. I still can’t believe I picked all of this.”

And yet the evidence of her endeavor lay before her in vivid shades of green, orange, yellow, purple, and red.

The Auri man turned toward her, raising an eyebrow. “You harvested all of this? Today?”

“Where in the seven hells do you think I’ve been all morning and part of the afternoon?” she laughed, resting her hands on her hips. “Not relaxing, that’s for sure. I guess the gods and kami saw it fit that my garden would be bountiful this year.”

Perhaps too bountiful. Gods— her back and arms were killing her, but it was worth it.

A few rumbling chuckles shook Ricmorn’s chest, his beige-scaled tail twitching. “You can say that again, Silv.” 

He walked over to the counter, mentally making a list of everything he saw. Cucumbers, eggplants, plump tomatoes, sweet and spicy peppers, beets, carrots. Those were only a few different crops scattered about. Things he could easily find in their personal food storage and the shared kitchens here in the apartment in Kugane and their home in Ul’dah.

And the last time he checked, they had plenty of food to get them through for a few months without worrying about it.

“What are you going to do with all of it?” he asked when he turned around to face her again, curious.

She hummed thoughtfully, crossing her arms against her chest. “I have no idea, to be honest,” was her answer. “I’ve restocked what I could here and set aside a small box to take to our other home. Then I went around the compound and spoke with many of the families to see if they needed anything and gave what I could. But as you can see, there’s still a lot left.”

“I see…”

He thought about what they could do with the produce. The last thing he knew either of them wanted was for all of it to go to waste. It would be a shame if they did. Silva took a lot of pride in her rooftop garden and in providing for those in need — the peace and solace it offered her between their Warrior of Light duties or when she needed a break from life.

But if his wife already did what she could by giving some of it away, there weren’t many options left.

They could sell what was life either in their stall in the markets in the city or to one of the other food stalls. It wouldn’t give them a huge profit, but neither was hurting for gil. Between the two of them, they had enough to get by for several lifetimes.

And then an idea struck him.

“What if we took and donated all of this to the Doman Enclave?” he suggested. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips when her sea-green eyes lit up. “I’m sure if the food stalls and open kitchens there don’t take everything, we’ll find families who will. We could even go to Namai or the House of the Fierce and see if they need fresh food.”

“That’s an idea,” she agreed.

Silva was a little annoyed she didn’t think about that first. Why didn’t she?

“We could even say hello to Hien if he happens to be out and about,” Ricmorn added playfully. His smile turned into a teasing smirk when the Auri woman’s face flushed, turning a pretty shade of lilac. “I’m sure he would like that. It’s been a while since we’ve seen each other.”

Ah— That was why. A very, very poor excuse, but an excuse nonetheless.

She looked away from him, her long ivory tail swishing. “A-as lovely as it would be to see and speak with him, I-I’m sure he’ll be busy with his duties,” she mumbled. Curse her sudden stuttering and how the sound of the young lord’s name made her heart flutter.

The black mage didn’t know what was worse, letting the food go to waste or shoving the romantic feelings she felt for Hien down further and pretending they weren’t there.

“Oh, don’t be like that, sweetheart,” he soothed, crossing the small distance between them. He gently cupped her warm cheeks, brushing his thumbs against the plum-colored freckles decorating them. “I’m sure your boyfriend would be more than happy to—”

Silva gasped, the flush staining her face growing darker. “Ricmorn! I— Wha—” She growled at him when he laughed, hearty and deep, swatting his hands away from her. “He is not my boyfriend!”

“He will be soon enough!” he promised. “If you both would just stop tiptoeing around this intense connection between the two of you and—”

“Ugh, stop it!” she huffed, her tail whipping around behind her. “As much as I know that something is there — something I’m still trying to figure out for myself — I highly doubt… I highly doubt he feels the same way.”

There was no way he did — not the Lord of Doma.

And yet her heart told her otherwise. 

How every time they met after liberating Ala Mhigo, she always caught a magical glint in his pretty hazel orbs that made her pause. The way he grinned at her, always a bright smile full of teeth and joy, sent her heart racing a hundred malms a second. Or when they touched — muted sparks of levin dancing along her nerves. Whether it was hands resting on arms and shoulders in a show of comfort and understanding or gentle and careful grazes against warm skin and blushing cheeks, it took her breath away.

It felt like the world around them faded, leaving only the two of them behind. A resounding connection Silva could not put into words.

Gods… she was really deep into this, wasn’t she?

She felt Ricmorn tuck two fingers under her chin and tilt her head to meet his gaze, breaking her from her thoughts. Sympathy and love shimmered in his sky-blue eyes, a soft smile gracing his lips.

“I know you— the two of you will eventually figure it out,” he murmured. “But please tell me you are not so blind to the point you cannot see how deep the care he feels for you goes, Silva.”

A quiet sigh escaped her as she took in his words. She hated how right he was. Not that she would admit it.

“Maybe I am. Maybe I’m not,” she said, shrugging. “As you said, this will get figured out in time.”

And today was not that day.

※

A half-bell later, after they stored all the extra produce in spare bags and boxes, the Auri couple arrived at the Doman Enclave. And now Ricmorn was watching Hien and Silva speak and flirt from a short distance away, grinning like a fool and shaking his head as he listened. Even if he was being ignored by his friend.

“Silva!? I— Hello, it’s so lovely to see you!”

The Au Ra bit his tongue to hold his chuckles in when elation rushed across the soulbond he shared with the smaller Raen.

“H-hi, Hien. It sure has been a while.”

“Your duties keep you busy, no doubt, as have mine. Pray know it is always a treat to see you when you have the time to spare.”

The way Silva’s face blushed at his empathetic words and her tail swished was adorable to the white mage.

“You are far too kind, my friend.”

Ricmorn thought she would swoon from the softness in Hien’s gaze and the warmth radiating from his wide smile.

“How could I not be? We all deserve a little more kindness in these times — especially you.”

It was then the young lord noticed how full Silva’s hands were.

“Oh? What’s all this?”

Ricmorn cleared his throat, gaining the attention of the two Domans. The last time he recalled the way Hien’s face turned so red as the night he told him he could pursue a relationship with Silva.

“Ah— Apologies, Ricmorn, I didn’t see you there.”

He dismissed his friend’s apology with a shrug. It wasn’t the first time this happened, and knew it wouldn’t be the last. “It’s nice to see you, Hien. My dear wife spent most of the day tending to her garden and picking everything ripe,” he explained. “She already gave away what she could to the families living at the compound, and this is what’s left over. I suggested we bring it to the Enclave to see if it could be better served here instead of going to waste.”

Surprise colored the Hyur’s features, counting the two bags slung over Ricmorn’s shoulders, one over hers and a box in her hands, before turning back to Silva. “Busy day then, I see,” he teased, amusement shining in his eyes.

“Something like that, yeah,” she lightly laughed.

“Thank you for this, truly. I’m sure the kitchens here would be happy to put all this fresh food to good use.”

“Of course, my friend. We’re happy to help wherever and whenever we can.”

Hien saw how she adjusted the grip on the heavy box, realizing her arms must be growing tired. “Here—” he said, stepping forward and offering his hands. “Let me take that off your hands, Silva.”

“O-oh! You don’t have to—”

He shook his head, grinning from ear to ear. “Please, it’s the least I can do.”

Silva returned his smile with a shy one, carefully handing the box full of vegetables to him. “Thank you.”

Ricmorn watched as the two Domans walked towards the open kitchens and food stalls on the other side of the Enclave, switching the conversation to something else, laughing and blushing the entire way. After a moment, he couldn’t help but shake his head at their antics.

“One of these days, you will not be in so much denial, my dear,” he mumbled to himself. “And when it comes, I hope you know it will all be worth it.”

And then he followed them, catching up in long strides to join in on whatever they were talking about.

[rigil-kentauris]

I couldn't find a nice (read: any) list anywhere, so I've been compiling one. I've. watched a lot of 1.0 videos. Anyway I'm going to keep them in one big post chain for reference. If you know where more descriptions are, please let me know!

As far as I can tell, each Parley usually has 8 or 9 tiles. I did notice two sets with only 8, which could be a function of a ninth tile existing but not showing up. I also noted one set that had 10 tile topics - this seemed to be because a special tile was added that was related to the specific quest.

These are in no particular order, and are largely but not always the order in which I got a look at the description text.

Parley Tile Descriptions for DoH/DoL Rank Quests 20, 30, and 36

It seems like most classes had a parley required in the R30 class. Fisher is distinct in that, at least in the videos I looked at, there was no parley in any of them. Goldsmith and Leatherworker had multiple rank quests with parleys and Weaver* had multiple parleys in one rank quest.

While I saw both an Ul’dah specific topic paired with the Ul’dah flag, and a Gridanian topic and flag, I did not see a Limsa Lominsan one.

Descriptions are only listed once per item.

*another class had this situation but I can’t remember if its Armorer/Blacksmith, or if its Miner. My head is MUSH rn.

Alchemist R30 (No R20/R36)

gil -the gil icon

debilitating powders -acidic/vicious secretions

medicinal reagents -clear vial with a cork stopper

ill-boding reptilian wings -looks like a puk wing, ironically enough

a novice’s alembic failure -a black/brown metal alembic

the taste of potions -a max potion

alchemists -the alchemist job icon in yellow

Ul’dahn history -Ul’dahn flag, squared

Armorer/Blacksmith R30

razor-sharp arrowheads -a row of three arrowheads

the ring of a doming hammer -a doming hammer (not bronze)

crude bronze squares -copper plate

blacksmiths OR armorers (depends on PC's active class AFAICT) -blacksmith OR armorer job icon in yellow

Ul'dahic history (*this spelling appears in multiple parleys, and I believe was changed sometime between 2010 and 2012 to Ul'dahn history)

a cross-pein hammer accident -bronze colored cross-pein hammer

miners -miner job icon in yellow

effective pickaxes -a dark colored metal standard pickaxe

gil

Botanist R30

Gridanian lore -the Gridianian flag, squared

a secret cotton field -a cotton boll

gil

unusual lauan logs -a log, presumably lauan

a hatchet forgotten in the forest -a bronze-colored hatchet

botanists -the botanist job icon in yellow

strange moko grass -perfectly normal moko grass

Carpenter R30

techniques for working lauan logs -lumber

archers -the archer job icon in yellow

a mysterious square shield -square maple shield

popular spear shafts -looks like a very smooth stick

Gridanian lore

durable willow planks -a brown plank icon

a blood-stained weathered saw -a weathered saw

carpenters -the carpenter job icon in yellow

Culinarian R30

stylish needles -a sidewise-turned needle in the style of the Artisan’s needle, albeit with a rose icon.

Ul’dahn history

culinarians -culinarian job icon in yellow

cheap miq’abobs -a miq’abob

weavers -weavers job icon in yellow

a legendary skillet -a bronze-colored skillet

scrumptious omeletts -omelette icon

Goldsmith SHARED BY ALL RANK QUESTS

goldsmiths -goldsmith job icon in yellow

sunstone-related rumors -sunstone

tricks to using chase hammers (this does say chase, not chaser) -a black-colored metal chaser hammer

a gift choker -a copper choker

an unremoveable copper ring -a copper ring

an unearthed raw sunstone -raw sunstone

Goldsmith R20 Specific

Ul’dahic history (see previous Ul’dahic history entry)

miners

effective pickaxes

Goldsmith R30 Specific

the moogle’s favorite flowerbeds -a strange brown flower with two leaves. Looks a bit like a pearl roselle but not.

Gridanian lore

Goldsmith R36 Specific

gil

Gridanian lore (an aside: this quest appears to be in Ul’dah during this parely)

Leatherworker SHARED BY ALL RANK QUESTS

the tanning of karakul skins -karakul skin

a clean cutting head knife (completely unimportant aside, I can’t tell if this is a cutting head knife that is clean, or a knife head that is clean-cutting) -a head knife that looks not quite bronze nor brass, but shares that model.

a fragrant pair of gloves -these look like Vintage Smithy's Gloves to me

leatherworkers -leatherworker job icon in yellow

a clumsy jacket -some sort of long-sleeve shirt made of one single color. Looks like brown leather.

a technique using sheep leather spetches -looks like the icon for flannel, but brown

R30 Specific

gil

Ul’dahn history

R36 Specific

gladiators -the gladiator job icon in yellow

a cursed gladius -I did not record this icon apparently. It was a sword of some kind. Probably a gladius.

Gridanian lore

Miner R30

the copper ore market -copper ore

miners

Ul’dahn history

a synthesis using brimstone -brimstone icon

tin ore mines -tin ore

a worn-out shortbow -weathered shortbow

effective pickaxes

archers -the archer job icon in yellow

Weaver R30 SHARED BY ALL PARLEY INSTANCES

Theldry’s shop -a black and white striped hide/skin circle

rare cloth spetches -flannel icon

weavers

an immensely popular hunting tunic -looks like a tunic mixed with a haubergeon

stylish needles

high-quality hempen cloth -a beige roll of cloth that is absolutely in no way whatsoever hempen cloth

Weaver R30 p1

Ul’dahn history

botanists

a hatchet forgotten in the forest

Weaver R30 p2

Ul’dahn history

carpenters

a blood-stained weathered saw

a life-saving coif -hempen coif of gathering

Weaver R30 p3

a worn-out shortbow

Weaver R30 p4

a life-saving coif

Ul’dahn history

gil

------------------------

There are 89 instances of topics including duplicates. After removing duplicates, there are 60. There are as follows alphabetically, excluding 'a' and 'an':

alchemists

archers

armorers

blacksmiths

blood-stained weathered saw

botanists

carpenters

cheap miq’abobs

clean cutting head knife

clumsy jacket

cross-pein hammer accident

crude bronze squares

culinarians

cursed gladius

debilitating powders

durable willow planks

effective pickaxes

fragrant pair of gloves

gift choker

gil

gladiators

goldsmiths

Gridanian lore

hatchet forgotten in the forest

high-quality hempen cloth

ill-boding reptilian wings

immensely popular hunting tunic

leatherworkers

legendary skillet

life-saving coif

medicinal reagents

miners

mysterious square shield

novice’s alembic failure

popular spear shafts

rare cloth spetches

razor-sharp arrowheads

scrumptious omeletts

secret cotton field

strange moko grass

stylish needles

sunstone-related rumors

synthesis using brimstone

technique using sheep leather spetches

techniques for working lauan logs

the copper ore market

the moogle’s favorite flowerbeds

the ring of doming hammer

the tanning of karakul skins

the taste of potions

Theldry’s shop

tin ore mines

tricks to using chase hammers

Ul’dahic history

Ul’dahn history/ul'dahic history

unearthed raw sunstone

unremoveable copper ring

unusual lauan logs

weavers

worn-out shortbow

[starlightsearches]

Ok riddler request time! Imagine getting creepy cute cards from a “Secret Admirer” and finding little gifts at your work, in your apartment...and you’re shocked to find out The Riddler is leaving the same style of cards for Batman at his murder scenes....

Pick-up Lines

Part 1: The Secret Admirerer / Part 2 /

Thank you, Delaney! This was such a good request and I'm so happy I got to write it 💖

Warnings: Language, stalking behavior, some suspense, not very much Eddie but I think this is gonna be a few more parts.

Requests are open but I'm slow. Comments, likes, and reblogs are always appreciated!

The Riddler x Femme! Reader

3.3k words

"What is this, Gordon?"

The police lieutenant stands at the open edge of the building, twenty stories up on a construction project abandoned before anyone bothered to add in windows or walls. A stiff breeze blows through the open floor as the vivid sunset disappears behind the scattered clouds on the horizon. Gordon turns back over his shoulder as you approach, and his face clouded in shadow.

"I'm sorry," he speaks just loud enough for you to hear him over the hum of the searchlight beside him and the clack of your heels. "I wanted to meet somewhere we could be safe."

He's got a cigarette perched between his fingers, and he takes a drag, hand shaking. He looks tired—more tired than you’d ever seen him—heavy bags under his eyes and a hint of graying stubble on his cheeks. The layer of perspiration that coats your palms goes cold, and you try to clear it away on your slacks with little success. Jim had always been the calm one between the two of you, and if he’s this nervous . . .

"What's going on?"

He sighs, peering out at the drop before you, like he's considering how the landing might feel—if it might be more pleasant than this conversation. "What do you know about the riddler?"

That’s not the direction you thought this would go. You give him a look, like what the fuck would I know? "The serial killer? I saw the video, like everybody else. Why?"

Gordon sighs, then takes a drag on his cigarette. "He's been leaving messages at the crime scenes, hints at his next targets. We think he's targeting people who worked on the Maroni case."

You have to check to make sure your feet are still on the ground. The plummeting feeling in your chest makes you think you might actually be falling. 

You manage to recover, but your eyes are stinging from more than the wind, hands not so cold yet that you can’t feel them shaking, “Jim, is he coming after us? How do you know that he’s— wait . . . who is we?"

"Neither you nor Gordon are going to be targeted." 

The voice seemingly comes from nowhere, much deeper than Gordon's, and you jump a mile out of your skin—too close to the edge to risk losing your footing. Gordon gets a hold of your arm just as you think you're about to topple over the flimsy wire railing, back to the open air and face to the darkness.

You stare into the yawning cavern of the building, but it’s all just black, stretching on and on indefinitely. No matter how long you look, your eyes don't adjust. Your heartbeat pounds in your ears, the spike in adrenaline leaving you to conjure up images of faces that aren't there.

Then there's the sound of heavy, measured footsteps, and he emerges, only seen because he wants to be.

"Jesus Christ, Jim!" you smack him on the arm—hard—and he yelps, the cigarette in his hand slipping from his fingers. "What the hell is this? Do you know how fucked my chances at the DA office would be if a picture of me with a masked vigilante ended up in the Gotham fucking Times?"

Gordon rubs at the place where you hit him and kisses his teeth, looking hurt. "This is my colleague. He's helping with the investigation."

"Well, I'd hate to put a damper on your relationship, but if I beat out Gil I'd be responsible for putting guys like him on trial—" you spare the barest glance in the masked man's direction, "no offense."

After a moment, he nods, a sort of deferential, none taken, gesture. You can’t help but laugh, just a sharp exhale through your nose. At least he has a sense of humor.

"You used to work in the DA's office during the Maroni case, under Gil Colson?"

His voice is low and artificially gravelly—another aspect of his disguise. Part of you wants to get a good look, see if you couldn't identify Gotham's strange protector, but everything about him unsettles you. It's hard to find anything human in him, underneath the layers of shadow and fear.

"Yeah,” you sniff, wrapping your arms tighter around your torso, “I worked for Gil."

A coveted position in the DA's office was supposed to be an opportunity for you. That's how Gil had made it sound during that first meeting over lunch—which he assured you was standard—plying you with expensive wines and lofty promises. Turns out the only opportunities Gil was interested in were the opportunities he might have to get in your pants.

It's what made you want to run against him in the first place. Gil had spent too much time letting big men with big wallets go free, and punishing their victims in the meantime. With every step forward, every sleepless night, you imagined how it would feel to look him in the eyes and shake his hand the moment you stole his job right out from under him.

"There was a rat feeding some key players information on the case. Did you hear anything that might point to their identity?"

You shake your head, feeling small. The sun had set, the night air bitter and biting. You shouldn't have left your coat in the car. "But I know all about Colson's coffee order, if you think that might help."

Gordon glances at the dark shadow beside him, reluctantly turning back to you. “There’s more.” 

Jim reaches inside his jacket, retrieving two colorful envelopes which he sets in your palms, the paper rough and dry. They’ve both been opened, little triangle flaps raised slightly where Jim had pried them up. On the front, you see your name.

“The riddler’s been leaving these at the crime scenes. The first at the mayor’s and the second with Commissioner Savage’s body.”

“There were others, addressed to me, as well,” the batman says before a heavy pause. “These seem to be of a . . . different nature.”

You stare down at the purple envelope, at the letters of your name carved in so deeply with a ballpoint pen it’s a wonder the paper didn’t tear. Like the sender worried that if the impression wasn’t deep enough, you’d never see it.

You’re not sure how you manage to slip the card from its envelope, not when you can’t feel your fingers. The pungent smell of aged paper fills the air, and the spine of the card is worn from repeated openings. 

The front features a cartoonish drawing of two peas in a pod, smiling cherubically. 

“We would be so “happ-pea” together?” you read, looking up at the two men in front of you, quizzical. You can hardly hear yourself think, let alone speak.

Gordon nods, and you flip the card open. There’s a handwritten message—What follows you everywhere but can't be caught? Beneath, some symbols you don’t recognize.

“Your shadow,” the batman answers the question for you. “There was a cipher, as well.”

Jim reaches into his jacket again—although you wish he wouldn’t. He hands it to you, another piece of paper, this time bagged as evidence. Even through the thin protective layer, you can feel the familiar texture of the paper—warped and crisp, as if it’s been wetted with the sweat of someone’s fingers and then dried repeatedly.

It’s a photo of you, printed in black and white. You remember the day it was taken—clear still, although it happened a few months ago, in the early summer. It was the night after you announced your intentions to run against Gil. The Wayne Foundation was throwing a charity ball, and you walked the red carpet, pretty and powerful in the well-fitted black dress. You look younger in the image than you ever remember feeling, smiling too wide for it to be inauthentic, eyes catching the light. You give the cameras a look, staring back over your shoulder at the paparazzi, daring someone to say a word about the way the neckline of your dress sinks down your back. It’s beautiful. It makes you feel sick.

It’s not like any of the other photos you’d seen from that night. The angle is much too high to be from one of the photographers’ cameras.

Gordon peels the photo from your hands, sensing your distress. “We couldn’t find any fingerprints, despite how much it seems the photo was . . . handled. The characters in the key led us to solving the cipher.” 

He shows you the back—a grid of squares, each containing a variety of strange shapes. A few of the boxes are filled in, forming the rudimentary shape of a heart.

“Jesus Christ.” 

The cold of the concrete stings your ass through your pants. You must be sitting down, although you don’t remember making your way to the ground. Gordon has an arm around your shoulder, placing his own coat where yours should be. 

“I should have told you earlier,” he says in that same calm voice, but the steadiness of it can’t penetrate the solid wall of panic, “I just didn’t want to get you involved. You wouldn’t be involved now, if I saw any way to avoid it.” 

Gordon takes the other card from your hand—this envelope a light, sky blue, not often seen in Gotham with its constant cloud cover. He shows you the front of the card, another cartoon drawing, this time of a dainty little blonde girl holding a squirming black kitten. The front of the card reads, Cat got your tongue? in a thick black font. 

Inside, the same handwriting. All capital letters, dug so hard into the page you can see the places where the paper had begun to peel apart from the back of the card.

I will not be ignored. 

“Okay,” that’s all you can say. Okay, okay, okayokayokayokay. Two people are dead. The man who killed them is demanding your attention. Okay. 

The batman kneels in front of you, the leather in his boots squeaking. His eyes are hard, and serious—an anchor in the hurricane. If you look away for even a moment, you’ll be lost. 

“This man, the riddler, seems to be under the impression he has some kind of relationship with you. He may have tried to reach out in other ways. Left you gifts. Have you noticed anything out of the ordinary?” 

If he’d asked you that question before, you would have said no. Would have told him the idea was ridiculous. Now, though, it feels like your life has been filled with the hands of unseen phantoms.

There was the box of chocolates on your desk a few days ago. No name. You’d assumed it was a past client, or a campaign donor hoping to get your attention. You meant to ask your secretary about who’d dropped off the gift, and had forgotten by the next time you saw her. 

A coffee, already paid for when you went to order, your name written on the cup in neat letters and made just the way you like. An extra box of thumbtacks in your desk drawer before you’d mentioned to you secretary that you were running out. 

The pints of your favorite ice cream waiting in your freezer, even though you’d forgotten to add them to the shopping list you gave to Clarice, your housekeeper, before she went to the store.

And then there were things that had gone missing: a bottle of your favorite perfume you’d been sure had a few more sprays in it before it would need to be replaced, the top you’d been photographed wearing seated courtside at a basketball game . . . the delicate lace bra you’d had few excuses to wear beyond meandering around your own apartment.

Your hands press bruises into your temples, and it’s still not enough force to keep you from falling apart. “Oh my god, Jim. He’s been in my house.” 

Your skin crawls, the sharp sting of a million spider legs pressing at every nerve. Had he only been there when you were gone, or had you just missed him out of the corners of your vision? How long has your life been a show for an audience of one? Your stomach churns, ready to spill its contents across the concrete as you come to the realization that every moment of privacy you’d thought belonged to you had been stolen.

“Do you have somewhere you can stay for a few days?” Gordon asks, his hands wrapped around each of your wrists, pulling you gently from your spiral, “With a friend, maybe? It’s probably best if you’re not alone.”

He holds your gaze, steady as ever, and your breath slows without any thought on your part. It’s just the effect that Gordon has. 

“Yeah . . . yeah, of course.”

Neither of the men say anything. Gordon glances at the batman, and the silence is heavy and awkward. 

“Who is it?”

You roll your eyes. “Does it matter?”

“The riddler’s intentions seem to be romantic,” the batman cuts in now, trying to save Gordon from your ire, “and if he sees you with another man, it could make him angry enough to react violently.”

You shrug your shoulders. “Well, unless you’d like to have a sleepover at whatever abandoned mine shaft you live in, I don’t really know what to tell you.”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Gordon says, “we don’t know that he’s going to try and make contact any time soon. He hasn’t been brave enough to show himself in person yet, and a little police presence might discourage him from making a move.”

You open your mouth to argue a little more, and then decide against it. The plan does seem reasonable.

“I’ll have some of our guys meet you at your building, then do a sweep of your apartment. We’ll keep a few of them there overnight. Do you think you can make it home okay?”

You nod, moving to stand, and Gordon helps you. He makes no move to take back his coat, which you’re grateful for. 

“I’m sorry about all of this. I should have told you earlier.”

“Don’t be, Jim.” If the roles were reversed, you’d have done the same. Protecting each other is in your nature. You turn over your shoulder, looking for the batman—maybe to thank him, or to apologize for threatening to send him to jail.

It’s too late. Vengeance is already gone. 

Your apartment is fairly modest—especially for one of the top defense attorneys in Gotham—but it feels like you’re waiting for ages as the police perform their search, tapping your fingers nervously against the steering wheel and glancing at the officer leaning up against the hood of your car periodically, just to make sure he’s still there. Eventually, he mumbles a reply into his two way radio, and then he knocks on your window.

“They’re ready for us to go up.”

They've turned on all the lights, but you still find yourself glancing into corners and back over your shoulder, looking for some hidden pocket where he might be hiding. Your reflection stares back at you when you face the windows, distorted by the city lights outside. You step up to the glass, feel the chill echoing off it as you stare into the night, looking into windows and spying for pedestrians on street corners. 

Could he see you right now? The thought sends a shiver across your skin.

The officer who’d waited with you by the car coughs to get your attention, and you turn your back to the glass. 

“This is Officer O’Connell and this is Officer Garrett. They’ll be keeping watch here tonight. If you need anything, let them know, but otherwise you can go about your evening as normal.”

Yeah right. You’re not about to wander around your living room half-dressed with a glass of wine in your hand, going over campaign talking points while a couple of cops sit on your couch waiting for a serial killer to show up and do who knows what to you. 

“I think I’ll just turn in for the night. Thank you, officers.” 

There’s some solace in your bedroom, at least, with its tightly locked door and curtained windows. You roll the stiffness from your shoulders, walking towards the bathroom, hoping to wash the smell of fear and sweat from your skin.

No matter how hard you try to think of something else, he stays on your mind. The Riddler. That green mask flashes across your vision, the white lines of his insignia printed on the dark canvas. You're thinking of Don Mitchell, and the poor girl he’d been seen with, the bruises across her face like wine stains. Thinking about how your hands had ached with the need to tear into his skin when you'd watched the news that night, of all the times you’d sat across from girls who looked just like her as they begged for your help. Thinking about how many you had to turn away, and thinking about how that’s split your soul in a way that can’t be repaired. 

Your jaw clenches tight under your skin, the water scalding against your back. It’s nothing compared to the heat of your anger, of the one thought that’s not supposed to be on your mind.

Maybe Mitchell had it coming. 

Or at least, he had something coming. You stare hard at the white tile, trying to imagine a world where Mitchell had gotten what he’d actually deserved, where he’d lived to see the roots of his shame dug from the earth and exposed to the light.

You can almost see it. Then a high, electric whine pulls you from your thoughts, and everything goes dark. 

The power doesn’t come back on. You stand there, waiting, pummeled by the quickly cooling water, and nothing changes. No light flickers, no sound interrupts the rush of the pipes. You reach back for the faucet handle, locating it only by feeling, and shut off the water. The darkness, and now the silence, are deeper and more complete than death. 

Time feels slower. You’d never be able to tell someone how long it takes you to pull back the shower curtain, to find your robe hanging on the hook. You feel clumsy, drunk with fear, waiting for a hand to reach you out of the darkness. You run your palms haphazardly against the counter of your sink, until you feel the nudge of a familiar shape.

Your phone. You wake the screen, squinting into the brightness before tapping the little flashlight icon in the bottom corner. The lock on the door makes a soft click when you turn it, but the door swings open silently. 

Oh god. Fuck. Your flashlight is less necessary in your bedroom, light from the windows pouring in from the open door—the door you’d left locked. The floor is covered in blood, speckled with thick drops of it, in a path that leads towards the kitchen Your stomach roils when you look down, finding more beneath your feet.

Except it doesn’t smell like blood; the unmistakable scent of iron is nowhere to be found. Your heart pounds against your chest as you bend down, dipping the tips of your fingers against one of the dark black spots.

They come back dry, confirming your newest theory. The floral scent is stronger down here, and feel the softness of the mark between your fingers, picking it from the floor and examining it in the light.

Rose petals.

You slam back against the bathroom door, forcing it closed again with the full weight of your body, turning the lock as quick as you can manage. 

Shaking fingers navigate to Gordon’s contact information, and you can hardly hear the sound of it ringing over your own breathing.

He doesn’t even bother with a greeting. “What’s wrong?”

“Jim, he’s here. I don’t know how he got in but he’s here.” 

“I’m on my way-” the squeal of tires is distorted but audible through your speaker, “stay on the line with me until I get there—”

Yeah, fuck that. A serial killer broke into your apartment, and god only knows what happened to those officers. You’re not staying here a second longer than you have to. As soon as Jim arrives, you'll be out the door.

You dial the familiar number, almost certain he won’t pick up. Then the ringing stops, and there’s the distinct silence of someone else’s presence on the other side of the line.

“Hello?”

You sigh shakily, equal parts fear and relief. It’s been so long since you’ve heard his voice.

“Bruce? It’s me. I need a favor.”

Tags: @theold-ultraviolence

[romeoandjulietyouwish]

this is for @blorbologist for responding to my survery!

Prompt: Kiki/Vax/Gil, a spin on the happy ending AU, after Gil is back safe n sound after the whole kidnapping n being put in VM's path, just! Comfort!

Though there are celebrations and festivities to be had, Keyleth and Vax can’t find it in themselves to enjoy it. Vecna is defeated and yet all they can think about is Gilmore. Not even two hours ago he had been lying dead in their arms after they had killed him. But after they had brought him back, all he had done was smile sadly as he took Kaylie and Cassandra’s hands, teleporting from the lair to safety. 

Safety turned out to be a rather large inn just on the outskirts of Vasselheim. Though there is still much revelry taking place, all of Vox Machina find themselves pulling away early, clinging to each other as they make their way to the inn to check on their loved ones. 

Keyleth can clearly see the white knuckled grip that Scanlan has on Pike’s hand and how Percy is leaning heavily onto Vex, looking as though he’s aged a decade. And she knows that her own hand is leaving a bruising grip on Vax’s hand, but she needs to see Gilmore. It’s complicated, the relationship between Gilmore and Keyleth. They’re not partners in a romantic way, but she loves and adores him all the saw. He has that same uncanny way of calming her down that Vax and Percy do. 

When they get to the room, Vax wastes no time in knocking, saying, “Gil? It’s us, we-”

Before he can even finish his sentence, the door is yanked open and on the other side they see their boyfriend. His characteristic glitz and glamor is all gone, he’s just wearing some borrowed clothes that are far too big, his hair pulled into a simple braid. His eyes are red and skin pale, but when he sees the two of them, he sighs in relief and pulls both of them into a crushing hug. 

“Are you alright?” He asks, his low voice rumbling in Keyleth’s chest. She clings to him gratefully, soaking in the familiar comfort as she nods into his shoulder. 

Gilmore sighs again, pulling them even closer in his relief. They stand like that in the doorway for a long time until Vax pulls out of the embrace and takes Gilmore’s face in his hands. The man leans into the touch. “Are you alright?” Vax asks softly. 

He nods, “I’m perfect now that you’re here.” He pulls the two of them into the small room, shutting the door behind them. He walks over and pours them both a glass of water, chilling them in a swirl of magic. “You two must be exhausted.” 

Keyleth shakes her head, tears coming to her eyes as she sprints towards him and hugs him again, crying, “I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry. I swear we didn’t know it was you-”

Gil hugs her back quickly, “I know, gods I know. You don’t have to be sorry. You didn’t know.”

“We could have checked.” Vax, unlike Keyleth, is stoic and full of sorrow. “If I hadn’t…I should have known something was wrong. I should have-”

“No.” Gilmore pulls away from Keyleth to gently grab Vax by the back of the neck, squeezing until the rogue meets his eyes. “You couldn’t have known, you were doing what you thought would keep your family safe.” 

Vax shakes his head, tears welling in his eyes, “It doesn’t matter. You died because of us and I don’t know what we can ever do to earn your forgiveness.” 

“What happened?” Keyleth asks softly, wiping her eyes as she takes a sip of water. “How were you there?”

Gilmore swallows thickly, “This conversation can wait until another day, until the morning at the very least. We’ve all had a very long and tiring day and all we need to do right now is get some food in the two of you and go to bed.” He smiles sadly and kisses Vax gently. “Okay?” 

Vax nods, “I’ll go run and grab something for us. And order something for everyone else.” 

As Vax leaves, he touches both Gilmore and Keyleth’s backs. And when the door shuts behind him, the room falls into silence. Keyleth sips her water, “You don’t want to be weak in front of Vax.” 

Gilmore sighs, “Of course not. You’ve seen him, he carries the weight of the world on his shoulders, if he thinks that I’m upset-”

“You are upset.” 

“Then he’ll carry that too.” Gilmore sinks onto the edge of the bed. Keyleth tucks a leg under herself as she sits beside him. Gilmore rests his head on her shoulder.

“Vax loves you, we both do,” Keyleth tells him softly. “Don’t lie to use, not about something this serious.” 

Gilmore squeezes her knee, “Tomorrow, it can wait until tomorrow, dear, lovely, Keyleth.” He kisses her temple and pulls her into another hug. She can smell the familiar scent of incense and violets that always seems to linger on him and presses her face into the crook of his neck. She doesn’t say anything, but she can feel tears landing on her head. 

Gilmore pulls back after a while, running a hand over her dirty hair, “With all the love and adoration in my heart, you need a bath dear.” 

Keyleth shoves his shoulder with a laugh, “Now that’s just unfair. I fought a god today, I’ll have you know.”

“And I thank you for your service,” Gilmore kisses her forehead. “But you still stink.” The two of them laugh just as the door opens and Vax returns. 

At the sound of two of his favorite people laughing, Vax smiles. “Did I miss all the fun?” 

“The fun comes later, handsome,” Gilmore flirts as he stands from the bed, pulling Vax into a long kiss as Keyleth takes the plates from his hands. “But gods, you need a bath first too. What is it with you adventurer types that always smell just awful?” 

“It’s called hard work and saving the whole continent,” Keyleth tells him, mouth already full of bread. 

Gilmore hums thoughtfully, “An exception can be made then, but you’re both taking a long bath before you even think about getting under the covers.” 

“Are you planning on joining us for this bath?” Vax asks, his voice playfully sultry as his hands fall to Gilmore’s waist. 

He chuckles, “Not a chance in hell.” When Vax pouts, Gilmore just kisses him, “You’ll still get plenty of cuddles. Now come on, let’s eat some food before your girlfriend takes it all.” Keyleth makes a noise of protest, rolling her eyes as Gilmore kisses the top of her head. “Love you, dear.”

“Love you too,” Keyleth mumbles through a mouthful of food.

That night, after their bellies are full and they’re slightly drunk on wine, Gilmore lays in the middle of the bed. Keyleth and Vax are both soundly asleep against his chest and he holds them close, feeling the rise and fall of their breathing. If he closes his eyes, he sees their teary and distraught faces, their hands covered with blood. 

And then Vax’s nose nudges his chin, humming as though in protest of Gilmore’s thoughts. Gilmore hugs him a little tighter and sinks deeper into the bed. With the two of them, he’s never felt safer. Though times will still be hard ahead and there’s lots of things to figure out and talk about, he knows that with the two of them everything will be alright.

[goodlucktai]

(I feel like I should finish your prompt first but. These ones are so good....feel free to ignore if you have too many asks but 29 or 33 with chocobros...?

PROMPTS LIST

33. “Are you SURE I can’t punch him in the face?” “Yes.” “What if I just break his nose a little?”

ik i just did this one for natsuyuu but...........chocobros

x

They're somewhere in Duscae, near enough to the coast that each breeze carries a hint of the sea, on another errand for another stranger to scrape together enough gil to eat tonight.

They've stopped at the last little roadside cluster of shops before the countryside stretches far and wide and wild, stocking up on what meager supplies they can afford.

Noctis has never lived this way before. He's never gone to bed hungry before. Neither has Gladio or Ignis, for all their world-weariness and the general practical knowledge and common sense they walk around with that far surpasses Noctis' own.

Ignis can budget with the best of them, and Gladio is willing to eat literally anything at any time, but Prompto is the one who gets it.

He chats at length about all the times he's had to get creative with pasta or rice because it was all that was left in his pantry. Back in high school, when he could only work part-time. When someone should have been taking care of him, and instead he was left to figure out how to stretch a tiny budget much farther than made sense.

"Come on, Iggy," he said once when they were out shopping, half-laughing. Like he thought Ignis was joking. "Fresh produce? We've got like a hundred gil between the four of us and we're totally out of restoratives."

And Ignis paused, and glanced sidelong at him. He put back the crisp, flowery vegetables and pulled out his little notebook and asked for suggestions instead. It took Prompto a few minutes to convince himsef that Ignis was taking him seriously, but now they like, bond over canned fruit.

"I'm gonna kill this catoblepas with my bare hands," Gladio says with feeling, leaning against the car. "I'm so godsdamned sick of pasta. Don't tell Iggy I said that."

Noctis rolls an energy drink between his hands absently, brow furrowed. It's tricky business, and he's not very good at it just yet, but home-made elixirs save them a ton of gil. He feels guilty when they have to spend their money on something he should be able to do himself.

"I'm telling him," he says without missing a beat. "He'll never forget, and he'll give you shit every single time you make cup noodles from now on, forever."

"I can't stand you," Gladio tells him seriously.

The bell above the door of the convenience store rings brightly, and Noctis glances up to see Ignis and Prompto walking out looking a lot more cheerful than they did going in.

Gladio's face does something very subtle and specific when he sees them, there and gone in a second, before Noctis can pin it down and figure it out.

"What are you two chucklefucks up to?" he calls over. Ignis immediately narrows a disapproving stare at him, but Prompto beams.

"I got a commission, sort of!" he says.

"A commission?" Noctis parrots, sending the energy drink back to the Armiger.

"Sort of?" Gladio adds.

"While we were checking out, the store-owner saw my camera, and seemed really into it," Prompto says. "Since, you know. It's unique."

Noctis does know. The digital camera hanging at Prompto's side has been with him since Noctis first bought it for him three years ago. He would rebuild it every so often, bowed over a collection of impossibly tiny parts spread out carefully across a dish towel at the kitchen table in Noctis' apartment. To call it unique is a bit of an understatement.

Gladio frowns, sensing where this is going a split-second before Noctis does. "And?"

"And he offered me money for it! Like, more than it's worth probably. A lot more."

"I don't see how that could be possible," Ignis says smoothly, leaning through the open window of the Regalia to put the shopping bag in the backseat. "Since your camera is clearly priceless. Which is what I explained to the man."

Noctis relaxes, glad that Ignis and Prompto have bonded over shopping to the point that neither of them want to do it unless they can go together-- because if Prompto had been in there by himself, he 100% would have sold his camera. He would have hated to do it, but he would have done it. It's like he thinks he owes his friends something just for letting him exist.

"Good looking out, Specs," Gladio says gruffly. Prompto waffles a bit, looking torn between pleased and embarrassed. Noctis decides to rescue him.

"What commission, though?" he asks.

"Oh, right. Well, he was kind of bummed about the camera, but he asked if he could see some of my photos, and Ignis said we had time-- "

If it were literally anyone else, Noctis thinks, up to and including and especially the Actual Crown Prince, Ignis would have said they were in a hurry and not to show off.

"--and he seemed really impressed! With the photos! I told him we were going to take down a catoblepas, and he asked why, and I said for some cash, I mean, clearly," Prompto adds, gesturing at the four of them and their general road grime. "So he, ah-- well he's never seen a catoblepas up close before, and he said if I could get some good pictures of it, he'd pay me for them. He gave me a figure, and it's, like, better than some of the jobs I've done for Vyv."

He's delighted, clearly. He likes feeling like he's pulling his own weight. Noctis is always so relieved when Vyv calls, not because of the inherent payday, but more because it puts this light in Prompto's eyes that Noctis would easily climb a hundred volcanic mountains for.

"Damn, Prompto, at this rate you'll have funded our whole trip," Gladio says. He doesn't ruffle his hair anymore, because Prompto actually hates that, just sort of scrunches his fingers through it instead. Prompto doesn't hate that at all. It's adorable.

Sometimes in the early morning, when he and Noctis are the last to drag themselves out of the tiny camper, they'll do their affirmations together:

"Gotta be our best today," Noctis will say, and Prompto will put on this absurdly determined expression, bed hair hanging into his eyes and cheek still creased pink from the pillow.

"Gotta get those hair scrunches," he'll reply gravely.

"What else did he say, Prompto?" Ignis says in a pleasant tone of voice that Noctis hasn't trusted since he was seven years old.

"Um! Nothing. Nothing worth repeating, anyway, you know." He is looking completely away from them now, an avoidance tactic if Noctis has ever seen one. "Woah, is that really the time? We better get going if we wanna catch that cow before it gets dark!"

He turns toward the car and runs into Gladio's arm instead.

"He suggested that Prompto's talents would be put to better use in different company," Ignis says, his voice carrying clearly over Prompto's whine of 'nooo, Iggy, let it go.' "He said that if Prompto ever got tired of our lifestyle, his door would be open."

Ah, Noctis thinks, followed by, ouch?

"Oh, fuck that guy," Gladio blurts. "Let me go talk to him."

"No!" Prompto clings to his arm, throwing all his weight into keeping Gladio in place. The Shield, who could bench Prom's entire body weight in one hand, lets himself be detained anyway and pretends to be annoyed about it. "Ignis, why are you causing trouble right now?" Prompto says frantically.

"Transparency is important in a relationship," Ignis replies.

"There's transparency and then there's causing trouble. Noct, tell them."

"I think Gladio should go talk to him," Noctis says immediately. But then Prompto looks betrayed, and it makes Noctis feel awful. "Ugh, okay. Okay. We're leaving. Ignis, Gladio, that's an executive order."

"Are you sure I can't punch him in the face?" Gladio grumbles.

"Am I-- yes, dude!" Prompto half-laughs nervously. "Very sure!"

"What if I just broke his nose a little?"

"Then that would be treason, I guess, cause Noct just said no."

It's with the standard amount of bickering and noise that they climb into the car, the top rolling up over their heads as it starts to drizzle. Ignis pulls smoothly back onto the cracked asphalt road and reaches over to turn the radio on; a peace offering. From the backseat, Noctis can see the corner of Prompto's smile, framed by a flyaway piece of yellow hair.

They live this way now, but they didn't always. Noctis used to have the run of the whole Citadel, had his own penthouse apartment, grew up dodging banquets and lavish dinners. It's not like he likes sleeping on the ground and having nothing to eat. It's not like he chose to lose his home.

But it could be worse. It's not a bad way to live, just Noctis and the people he loves best and these countless hours together. There's a lot of hard work and sometimes he goes to bed hungry but he knows he'll remember these days forever. He knows he'll miss them.

"Hey," he says, over the quiet sound of rain on the windows and the catchy synth-pop crooning out of the speakers. "Don't ever sell your camera, okay?"

Prompto says, "I mean, I wouldn't ever want to."

"Seriously," Noctis presses. He doesn't want to let it go. It feels important. "Your pictures are-- they mean the world to me, Prom. I can't even tell you."

His friend looks bewildered. He's half-turned in his seat, and his eyes stray to Gladio, then jump to Ignis, then settle back on Noctis. Whatever he's looking for, he seems to find it, because he smiles.

"Okay, weirdo," he says, "one fully-documented roadtrip, coming up. I won't leave anything out."

Noctis is counting on it.

[iliumheightnights]

Bird Set Free | Ben Florian x Male Reader

Fandom: Descendants Pairing: Ben Florian x Male Reader Summary: A jealous Audrey comes after Ben’s boyfriend.

A/N: Another co write with my amazingly talented friend @inhumanshadows​. If you haven’t checked them out what are you waiting for!? …

Ben had caught your eye the moment you stepped out of the limbo from the isle.

You were one of the first vk's to arrive in Auradon.

At the time Ben was dating Audrey so you didn't think you had any chance.

That changed after the big turney game when he asked you privately if you wanted to go on a date with him.

That shocked you first off because he was a prince/future king and you were a villain kid.

Secondly you were a guy. You hadn't expected Ben to be into guys.

You said yes of course. Who wouldn't want to go on a date with Ben.

The date went great and you enjoyed it.

During the whole coronation debacle, you helped Mal and them stop Maleficent.

Once everyone was unfrozen, Ben pulled you into a kiss in front of everyone.

That was a surprise to everyone, but who was going to challenge the king and his boyfriend who just stopped maleficent? No one that's who.

While Adam was shocked he wasn't disappointed and Belle was really supportive of you two.

Ben's parents were your biggest supporters. "Love is love."

While the kingdom had accepted you two relatively easy, one person did not. Audrey.

You had a feeling Audrey wouldn’t like it. 

But you figured she wouldn’t be too mad for long.

At least that’s how it seemed. Especially when she left school for a little “wellness retreat.”

Then the mess with Uma happened. 

You knew she spelled Ben and that any actions he made weren’t consciously his own.

The entire cotillion was...intense.

You didn't let Uma use Ben any more than she had.

You quickly pulled Ben in for a kiss and pressed your lips to his.

There was a spark and energy there that you felt every time you kissed.

Pulling back, Ben smiled at you and you could tell it had worked. He wasn't spelled anymore.

Uma and Mal then got into a fight over her spell book.

After everything settled down the two of you enjoyed the rest of your night.

However there was still a part of you that was hurt seeing Ben with someone else even if it wasn't his doing.

Luckily, Ben quickly made sure that YOU were the one for him.

That led to him proposing to you with a promise ring a week later.

...

You said yes to that right away. No way were you letting that pass by you.

Of course, Audrey wasn't happy with that. But who cares, what could she do?

-You didn’t care. You were engaged and had much more pressing matters to attend to.

-Now the whole kingdom was just in your face about really anything and everything.

“when’s the wedding?!”

“How are you adjusting to life as the prince’s boyfriend??”

It was that constantly and it gets old quickly.

So you just focused on Ben and your friends. 

Evie insisted on designing yours and Ben’s wedding outfits. 

“I mean I won’t tell you no Evie.”

You had to remind everyone that it was only a promise ring and not an actual engagement ring. No one seemed to care.

Honestly with you two, it really was more of an engagement ring.

But that was for another day. Today was Jane's birthday.

Ben had some last minute work to finish so you went ahead of him.

"(M/N)! It's good to see you."

"Ben's on his way. He just had to finish something first. He's sorry for being late."

She waved you off. "No worries."

Then someone you hadn't expected showed up.

Audrey.

She was dressed differently and had maleficent staff.

That wasn't good.

Audrey laid her eyes on you and a wicked smile came over her face.

That REALLY wasn't good.

"Jane, go. Run!"

Jane nods and hightails it out of there.

Audrey starts to sing “Happy birthday” as waves of green smoke wash over the party area, all the guests falling into a cursed sleep.

You brace for an inevitable sleep... but it never comes.

Audrey stands before you, smile on her face.

“A sleeping curse is too good and too easy for you. I have other plans.”

She bangs the bottom of the staff on the ground and you’re surrounded by smoke.

Magic flows over you and when it clears... everything is bigger.

“Well aren’t you a pretty bird...” Audrey says before vanishing. 

You run to the edge of the lake and see that she turned you into a raven.

A raven. Of course she turned you into a raven, just like diaval.

Your first instinct is to panic. You're currently a bird when just five seconds ago you were human.

After calming down a bit you realize the next best thing to do is go after Ben.

Ben! If this is what Audrey did to you what would she have done to Ben!?

Without another thought you flap your new wings and try your best to fly.

It's not pretty at first but you figure it out and soon are flying to your future husband.

When you do reach Ben...it's not fun.

Audrey had changed him as well, but instead of a bird he was a beast. Just like his dad.

When you tried talking with him you hoped he would be like how his dad was as a beast...or at least as you had been told.

You figured you'd get to talk with him and figure out a way to stop Audrey.

Ben tried to eat you.

Apparently Audrey's curse made Ben an actual full beast and not just looking like one.

There was only one thing left to do...find help!

Finding help wasn't easy. Everyone was either asleep or turned to stone!

Fairy godmother? Stone. Belle and Adam? Asleep.

Luckily you found Mal and them, along with Uma, Gil and Harry.

Unluckily, they just thought you were a raven.

Harry kept shooing you and threatening to hit you with the hook.

Gil wanted to pet you. So that wasn’t too bad.

And the others either thought you were gross or just a dumb bird. 

Gil proves to have the braincell for the group when he suggested giving whatever made Dude the dog talk to you.

Mal did it to “make the conversation change”

"Finally! I've been trying to get your attention forever!"

They all go wide eyed when you're voice comes out of the bird.

 "Yes it's me. (M/N). Audrey turned me into a raven and I went to find Ben but she changed him into a beast! You gotta help me save Ben!"

 Of course, even though you were a bird, Ben is a king, your boyfriend and a beast right now. You were helping him first.

 "Oh and Gil...can you scratch my head again?"

What? It felt good.

 Then Jay, Harry, Gil and Carlos went with you to find your boyfriend.

You guys find beast ben and slowly try to get his attention.

He turns and stalks towards you all.

He looks as if he’s about to pounce when Jane pops out of the trees and sprays him with water.

Ben roars and stumbles back rubbing his face. He drops his hands and looks relatively normal.

“What did you hit him with, Jane?” Jay asks.

“Enchanted lake water. Breaks most enchantments. Figured it couldn't hurt.”

 You let out a breath you hadn't realized you were holding.

 "Oh thank gods. I was so worried babe."

 Ben froze in place as he saw you talking.

"(M/N)?"

You flew over and landed on his shoulder.

"Hey Ben. Audrey got to me first. Thanks for not eating me earlier."

 Ben would then pet you.

 "I'm glad I didn't. That would be awkward...now how do we change you back? Jane?"

 "I kind of used the last of the water."

You look Ben up and down and he smiles at you.

“Gotta say Ben, I like the fangs and beard. Could be cleaner but...”

“Oh really?” Ben asks.

That when Harry whistles. “Sorry to break up that tender moment... but we have an angry Audrey to pursue...”

"Right! We'll have to figure something out later. I promise! I'll make sure to get you back" Ben said.

You knew he would. Ben always did.

 Returning to Evie's cottage, Uma seemed to be leaving in a mood.

Doug who had been asleep was now awake.

"Wait? How is he awake?"

"True love’s kiss."

You looked at Ben who looked back at you.

 "Why didn't we think of that?!" you said.

Ben rubbed the back of his head with a nervous look.

"Sorry."

“it’s alright. Lots happening. We’ll try later. First we deal with Audrey!”

Cue Audrey sealing you all in the cottage. 

Then mal and Uma break you guys out with some awesome cooperative magic.

You: “Aww you guys are friends again!”

Mal: “I’ll pluck your feathers...”

“Alright! Geez...”

Then everything with Mal came out.

 It made your heart break. Ben,Your boyfriend, your future husband, made a decision with Mal to not bring over any more VK's.

You couldn't believe it. You didn't want to accept it.

"So...you didn't even want to talk to me about this?" You said to him.

"I'm a VK Ben! You're wanting to stop any one else from getting the chance that I did? That's so wrong!"

 Now you really wish you had gotten that kiss earlier...cause this love didn't feel true anymore.

 Uma, Harry and Gil left...and so did you.

"I need to think."

"(M/N) wait!"

Did you leave on Gil’s shoulder, slumped against him? Yes yes you did.

It was all very confusing and pretty shocking.

While you understood where they were coming from... it... it just hurt. 

You all were back at the cottage, checking up on Dizzy and the twins. 

You were glad they weren’t awake to hear about all that. They had enough on their plates.

“So what do we do now?” You ask, walking on a table, everyone seated around it. 

Uma: “Nothing. Let Mal and Ben figure it out... they don’t deserve our help after that stunt.”

"I can't just sit by Uma. I'm mad...but not let Audrey go kind of mad. If anything I want just a bit of revenge."

Uma smirked at that.

"Good to know there's still a VK in there."

You extended your wings and fake bowed.

Eventually you all began heading back to the isle before Mal stopped you begging you all to help her.

"They were turned to stone. (M/N),Ben was turned to stone."

It didn't matter how hurt you were, you still loved Ben.

Without hesitation you hopped off Gil's shoulder and began flying back.

Arriving back at the cottage you saw them, Evie, Dude,Carlos, Jay and Ben...all statues.

You landed on Ben's out stretched stone arm.

"Oh Ben...What do I do?"

You sat there perched on Ben's arm, looking at his frozen face.

You regretted that the last thing you two did was fight.

Hopefully this would be fixed soon and you can apologize.

As if your wishes were answered. Ben and the rest were unfrozen and the people began waking up.

"Ben! Oh gods you're back! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry about how I left."

"(M/N). No I'm sorry. I should have asked you. I'm sorry I didn't."

With that Ben lifted his arm with you on it up and kissed your head.

In an instant you felt yourself changing and growing and soon you were back to being human.

You smiled and pulled Ben into a tight up.

"Forget waiting. Ben, I have no idea what's going to happen but I know I want to be with you. Let's get married."

He didn't disagree and your promise ring was now that engagement ring.

After making sure everyone was alright after everything that transpired you, Ben and Mal got to talking and came to a unanimous decision.

You all agreed it was time to take the barrier down and stop making the children of villains pay for their parents misdeeds.

You worked with the other VKs to make the process as fair and efficient as possible.

Ben pulled you away for a minute to hug you. 

“I know we’re still working on the rest of the VKs but I was thinking we could meet with Evie to talk about wedding stuff?”

“of course... we have a lot to plan... together.”

Evie was excited when you told her.

Ben and you also enjoyed the planning, especially the cake.

Your wedding was going to be amazing.

[driftward]

Title: A Knight's Duty - Chapter 14 Characters: Ement Vauban, Guillerme Rating: Teen Summary: Guillerme's motives revealed Notes: None

Ement, not having the responsibilities of having to take care of the twins, was often the first one to show up to the training room. Having a question for Guillerme, he made certain to show up particularly early one day. Guillerme was waiting, of course. He often was there a half bell before he had to be, checking the training equipment and going over his notes.

"Master Guillerme?" asked Ement. "I've been meaning to ask. What do you get out of this?"

"Whatever do you mean, lad?"

"I mean... you training me and Zoissette. Don't get me wrong, I'm grateful, but - ser, I know your history. You've trained members of the Temple Ward. You could practically write your own Gil balance. But instead you're here, working for, well. I'm not sure how much, but Sette tends the books sometimes. She's shown me the ledgers. We can't afford you."

Guillerme laughed. "Clearly you can, lad, for here I am."

"Right, sure, but... why?"

"Hnfh. Why indeed."

Guillerme crossed his arms behind his back, and paced a bit.

"... I trained Temple Knights, it's true. Used to be, someone had a promising young lad or lass, they'd send them to me, I'd show them the lashes. Put 'em through their paces. Some of Ishgard's finest fighters have gone by me, they say.

"But that's the problem, lad. Our finest -fighters-. Not our finest knights. I used to think that all I had to do was teach 'em to hold a shield and wield a sword, and the rest would work itself out. Good breeding, I thought, would make good men and women. And the church would help 'em stick to Halone's breast. Halonic men and women, doing Holy work, defending the realm.

"It took me too long to realize how wrong I was, lad. And the damage is done now. I've raised a few good knights, but also too many ... well. Scoundrels. Highwaymen with holy shields. Thugs that go down to the Brume or the low city and kick smallfolk for fun."

Guillerme stopped pacing, and looked at Ement. Ement thought he looked suddenly older, somehow. The lines in his face ran deeper. He noticed Guillerme had stooped a bit, his shoulders slumped down low, and Ement bowed his head, to look away. He felt afraid he'd asked the wrong question.

"I'm - I'm sorry, ser. I meant no disrespect."

"The disrespect's warranted, lad. Don't be sorry. Stand up straight. Like I trained you. Look at me square."

Ement swallowed and did as he was told, looking into Guillerme's eyes, and sensed a depth in them he hadn't noticed before.

"I'm trying to make up for that mistake, lad. Better knights for a better Ishgard. The current generation's a loss, but the next, well. Had to find stock first, though. I looked among the Brume, but I'm not of them. Couldn't connect with them. They saw a threat, thinking me either fit to take advantage of them, or someone who was just there to remind 'em of how they were lesser. And also, a knight - a proper knight - they need support. Armor and weapons and someone to take care of all that. Nobody in the Brume has that. So then I tried the minor houses. Your mother - well, she's got a reputation. Good soldier, does well by hers. Good teacher, so I hear. I thought, well, maybe some of that would've rubbed off on her sprats. So here I am. Yours is a minor house. High enough up that you can maybe afford a knight or two. Low enough to not be spoiled by the indulgences Ishgard allows her high houses.

"And I found you two. Well, just you at first, lad, and while you were a good study with the sword, I found I was struggling to really say what I wanted to say, to try to teach you what good really was. But then your sister showed up, with her heart too big and her head too smart, and, well."

Guillerme laughed, a dry, brittle thing, but a laugh nonetheless. Ement smiled nervously, unsure how to respond.

"The questions I've been asking aren't just for you and her, lad. They're for me. Maybe they're for every knight. I told you, if you can't teach it, you don't know it, but that's a small lie. In the teaching is also the learning, and, well. I'm not learned yet. But trust me, lad, I'm earning exactly what I want here."

Ement heard the bells ringing in the distance as the door to the training room opened, and Zoissette at last made an appearance. Ement glanced between her and Guillerme.

"...thank you, ser." said Ement, quietly.

"Aye, lad. Let's just get on with it, shall we? I get any more morose and I'll need to turn to my cups."

Guillerme began the day's instructions, but Ement found himself distracted, trying to figure out the riddle of the man's words.

[static-sulker]

Gill is kinda hard to put down because they himself probably hadn’t thought about it at all because when would they? He’s been working his entire life afterall. In my own canon, or my actual campaign, I use Triton or just in general fishfolk like certain fungi. All are very fluid (hehe fluid) and down conform into many usual roles. Gillion would most likely be Agender or pangender due to the fact he himself doesn’t really conform or prefer any gender, and probably He/They and maybe neopronouns? I can’t think of any rn. We love the canon asexuality my brother in Moon Goddess. I see him omnisexual (leans masc). We have seen Gil have semi romantic situations with a lot of masc characters in the story or just bonding quickly with people like Caspian, Marshal John, and even Chip (COUGH COUGH EP 21) much more then others throughout the story. may be questioning if he’s poly but that religious trauma is strong ✨

Jay Jay Jay. The girl boss of the group. Or would I say GENDERFLUID BOSS. Using the hall of mirrors with the pixie cut, it’s giving still fem but waiting in the shadows is that masc enby energy. Most likely stays more fem or non-binary usually.She/They/He pronouns and would 100 would fight somebody if they were transphobic/homophobic. And again we love that one tweet Condi sent out that I can’t fuckin find that talked about something with Jay and bisexuality. And we all know Pistolwhip so yeah Bisexual leaning fem. I would see her as a transwoman, but the mirror scene wouldn’t make sense. I get that people can realize at a young age, but from what her backstory and father act like, it’s not as likely. Would 100% make an au tho because I love them so much. But if I would make it the most canon like without fan-fiction, she would be afab. OR the mirrors are what she saw in herself? It’s up to the imagination because these are head-canons afterall. Jay is also a great genderfluid name because it doesn’t have to be just feminine or just masculine. Jay defiantly was in the closet for a hot minute- no, couple years with her father, and hadn’t really came out but didn’t hide it. When they saw Their father in the prison she didn’t give two shits on what his father thought. And for that I congratulate her

CHIP! THE MIRRORS ACTUALLY KINDA VALIDATE THIS SO WOOO! Chip is transmasc. 100 million percent not be projecting onto him so let me tell you why. In the mirror, and fanart made by the lovely @Vehicular manslaughter which I am making canon now cause I make the rules(/j) his hair is EXTREMELY LONG, like down to his stomach. In the future, he cuts his hair and shows a lot more joy with it. He’s happier looking masculine. Also I’ve read too much fan-fiction with this being canon so it’s implanted into my brain. Chip also has gone through a bi panic. I’m not saying it’s Gill, but I’m not NOT saying it’s Gill. Just across the ship he sees a certain Triton fighting a foe, shirt ripped open, sweat down his body, a tense determined expression, leaning down in a “superhero pose” electricity flashing in his eyes as he slashed again into the enemy. That causes some strange butterflies in his stomach one might say. Chip does love somebody who literally could squish him. Jay most likely gives him a exhausted explanation while Chip is shaking her while she sleeps that bisexuality exists and he’s been low key cruising on that fact. He/they, or just Chip because he chose that name and he likes hearing it.

In this essay I will…

[sunflowersupremes]

I think I've made like, two sarcastic comments about how I'm glad the Finarfin you've mentioned isn't the Finarfin from my stories (or at least in the splinters like jewel shards verse) but I don't think I've asked, do you have any headcanons on Finarfin? I'm interested if you'd like to share any!

-@outofangband

@outofangband

Yes!!! I remember that comment. I also hope he’s a bit nicer than the Finarfin from Return in Chains, one of my fics (although that Finarfin isn’t evil… just… makes questionable decisions out of desperation, which is basically the Finwean Family Pastime).

I LOVE FINARFIN.

He thinks “Finarfin” (aka Finwe-Ara-Finwe) is a terrible name and can’t believe his brother would have done such a stupid thing. (He also thinks “Fingolfin” is a terrible translation).

After all his relatives took off and left them, he got put in charge of not only the country, but also literally everyone’s CRAP. Meaning, as the only remaining member of the house of Finwë, he had to figure out what to do with all the houses and possessions they left behind. He ended up boarding them up and leaving them, in the hopes that they would come back one day (elven possessions don’t rot or decay, after all).

The only time he used one of his relatives homes after they left was gifting Maglor’s house to Celebrían when she arrived. By that time he had accepted that Maglor would never return, and he figured she had the best claim to it (and it had the largest garden, which he knew she would like, and it was in the artist’s district which she loved). When Elrond actually managed to drag Maglor back with him, Arafinwë was SHOCKED. Thankfully, Maglor was fine with him gifting it to her and just moved in with them.

He just generally seems like he wants the best for everyone. I don’t think he’s a coward, I think he’s just very cautious (and he has a bit of foresight, which means he probably saw that the future would be WORSE if he went as well). I also like the idea that part of his reason for staying was ‘get on the Valar’s good side so I can eventually convince them to help’ not realizing that by the time they helped his entire family would be dead.

He has a great sense of humor and is generally a fun guy to be around. His assorted relatives know they’re always welcome at either of his homes (he has one in Tirion and one in Aqualonde) even if he’s not there himself. Half the time he gets back from vacation to find at least two random nieces/nephews chilling in his house.

He and Maglor both have a similar grasp of emotions and Osanwe. Maglor uses his gifts to fuck with people; Finarfin tries to use his to help people. He spends a lot of time going around fixing all the people Maglor has screwed with.

Arafinwë annoys Maglor precisely because he can see through Maglor’s attempts at manipulation. Maglor tried to trick him into doing something once and Finarfin calmly said ‘if you wanted attention you only had to ask’ (that, of course, was HIGHLY OFFENSIVE as far as Maglor was concerned).

Arafinwë does not want the crown. It is a running joke in Tirion that whenever someone from the line of Finwë is reborn or sails, he tries to give them the crown (it is true, actually, but no one else wants the thing either). He even tries to give it to Maglor once he turns up.

His attempt at inventing democracy backfired when he was elected.

Nerdanel becomes very close to him during the First Age while they bond over missing their children.

He keeps a memorial in the palace garden, with markers - made by Nerdanel - for every fallen member of the house of Finwë. They even add a marker for Gil-Galad after the Last Alliance even though no one has any idea who the fuck he is or if he’s related. The memorials are kept even after the dead are re-embodied, as a reminded of ‘that dumb thing you did that one time’

He makes annual trips to the Halls of Mandos just to ‘chat’ with Namo (and subtly inquire as to when he’s going to be getting his relatives back). Finrod’s release was, in part, to try to appease Arafinwë, but all it did was make him more determined that he COULD get the rest of his family back.

He informs Namo that no, no you will NOT be keeping my brother and his children until the Second Music, thank you very much. (Namo points out that their Fëar are very badly damaged, Arafinwë asks why the fuck Namo thinks that he - as a Vala - is best equipped to heal people who hate his guts)

Fëanor gave him a pet swan when he was five because Fëanor thinks swans are assholes and expected it to terrorize his younger brother. Instead Arafinwë befriended the swan and trained it to bite Fëanor on command.

Arafinwë typically doesn’t eat meat, the only exception is fish.

He can’t figure out why the Valar put Eönwë in charge of the host. I mean, he’s a great guy and a terrifying fighter, but he seems to have a few screws loose.

Elrond and Elros’ return to Gil-Galad was only because of Arafinwë. Maedhros and Maglor didn’t trust the host of the Valar, but Arafinwë sent them a letter promising to personally watch over the twins and arguing that they would be safer with the Host. Because of this, Elrond and Elros resented him for a long time, blaming him for taking them away from their adopted family.

Arafinwë spent a good chunk of the War of the Wrath keeping Eönwë from accidentally causing Diplomatic Incidents or Other Minor Catastrophes. The rest of the War was spent trying to work how the the fuck he’s related to Gil-Galad. He still isn’t sure, he’s pretty sure Fingon might have just picked up a random kid somewhere. Or he might be a Fëanorian, but he kind of hopes NOT. He loves his half-brother, but holy fuck.

It was his idea to turn Morgoth’s crown into a collar, because he was fucking pissed off by that point. It was mostly a joke, but Eönwë, being a himbo, went with it.

He was attempting to negotiate either the return of the Silmarils OR a different way to end the Oath when Maedhros and Maglor stole the Silmarils from Eönwë’s camp. One of the guards they killed was a childhood friend of Arafinwë. Arafinwë already had rooms waiting for Maedhros and Maglor back in Tirion, because as soon as he got them on a boat he was planning to take them straight home, whether that was the Valar’s plan or not.

Arafinwë had managed to arrange a pardon for Galadriel, but she was still angry and proud and announced that she didn’t want it, thus resulting in her getting a personal ban.

He knew Galdalf before he went to Middle Earth and gave him a very long list of things to tell Galadriel, most of which amounted to ‘get over yourself and apologize to the Valar so you can come home you fucking idiot (and please tell Elrond hello, he’s a lovely child, really)’

He adores the Hobbits and can’t believe Elrond managed to bring them. Gandalf who? He gives his grandson-in-law all the credit, thank you very much.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

By the king’s hand 🐍 I

Warnings: warnings to be added as we progress but this series may contain non-consent, violence, death, and other triggers.

This is dark!fic and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You attend king Loki’s coronation but the night ends precariously.

Note: I don’t know what I’m doing.

Thank you. Love you guys!

As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

“Come on!” Gilla latched onto your arm as she wove through the streets. The bodies around you were so many it was hard to move one way or the other. “Can’t see anything from here.”

“Gil,” you grumbled, “You’ve already dragged me to the square, where are you taking me now?”

“Don’t you realise,” she called to you, “This is history! We are going to see history!”

“It matters little to me. Tomorrow I will be sat in the shop just as I was before you disturbed me.” 

You stumbled as she lunged between two bodies and barely kept hold of you. Your clogs nearly slipped off your feet as she veered around the base of one of the ancient pillars at the edge of the square. She stopped and looked up the etched stone and grinned.

“Tell me you’re not--”

“You remember when we were children? We used to see who could climb furthest.” She chimed. “We’ve just got to get high enough to reach that branch.”

Gilla pointed at the thick-trunked oak which had stood nearly as long as the pillars. The Founder’s Tree bore as many carvings as the pillars, an artifact of the city’s residents. You shook your head.

“We are not children anymore,” you insisted.

“Only if we act so,” she trilled, “You’ve come this far. I know you’re not going to abandon me now.”

You sighed and put your hands on your hips. You were glad for the workman’s pants your uncle let you wear in the shop and the sweaty tunic belted at your waist. Gilla wore the embroidered skirts that many of the merchants’ daughters loved but you never bothered as they were often stained with clay or soot by the end of the day.

“If someone sees us…” you warned.

“No one’s looking at us!” She hooked her fingers into a deep crack and hoisted herself up and wrapped her legs around the pillar. Her skirts bunched precariously above her knees as she began to shimmy up. “Or did you really want to stare at the back of everyone’s heads?”

You rolled your eyes as you watched her a little longer before following her. Gilla was thin, she always had been, and was little bothered by the way her skirts rumpled around her waist. You grunted as you heaved yourself up. The higher you got, the more you realised how dangerous it was. You hadn’t the wherewithal as children to think of it.

Gilla unhooked one lang and hung off the side of the pillar as she reached out to the branch. Suddenly you wanted to slide back down. You only pictured her lunging and falling down to a horrid fate. 

She thrust herself off the pillar and caught herself on the branch lithely. She swung her leg over and was upright in a moment. After all the years since your last contest, she had barely slowed.

“Hurry,” she whined as the horns began to blow. “The new king will appear soon.”

You took a breath and frowned. You couldn’t make it. If you tried, your sweaty hands would not be able to hold you, your weight, much more than that of a child, would plummet you back to the earth. You looked at Gilla and braced yourself. You threw yourself away from the pillar and caught the branch with a yelp.

The horns grew louder as you hung from the tree. You kicked your legs as you struggled to mimic Gilla. She moved closer and bent down to try to help. A drumming sounded and a voice boomed above the crowd and hushed the impatient voice. The marching of armoured boots entered the square from the opposite end and the music vibrated through your body as you hissed and clung to the tree frantically.

“People of Asgardia,” the crier proclaimed, “I present to you, Loki, Son of Odin, First of His Name, sanctified and rightful heir to the twelve realms and newly-anointed King of Asgardian. Hear, hear, long live the king!”

You finally dug your foot into the side of the tree as you cried out desperately. You walked up the trunk and hooked your leg over the branch as Gilla helped pull you up. The leaves barely offered a curtain to your shame as you righted yourself and you poked your friend meanly in the side. 

“Never again,” you swore as you gasped for breath.

“Oh, hush, look,” she pointed past the foliage around you, “Look. The king!”

You glanced over at the dark head of the new ruler. The golden horns of his crown and the lustrous silver of his robes. King Loki seemed to stare back at you as the branch shifted beneath you and rustled the leaves.

“Stop fidgeting,” Gilla remanded, “You’ll snap our perch.”

“Shhh,” you covered her mouth, “You’ll give us away.”

She pulled your hand away and sniffed. “It’s fine. It’s just a tree.”

You tutted and looked back to the platform at the centre of the square. The people cheered and stomped and clapped with the music. There would be a feast for all. The tents had already been erected both within and without the royal grounds. The latter would be for the commoners though a seat would be hard to find amidst the hungry hordes.

“He’s not so handsome as his brother,” Gilla bemoaned, “But I wouldn’t call him hideous.”

“How can you tell from so far?” You snipped.

“You remember Brytta? She is a chambermaid in the palace now. Once she did sneak me in through the laundries. I saw the princes rather well.” She preened.

“Well, I don’t think comeliness the most important feature of a king,” you reproached. “I remember this prince hasn’t the nicest reputation.”

“He does enjoy tricks but every court has a jester to do tricks,” Gilla shrugged.

“Mmm,” you hummed, “I suppose he could not be very different from his father.”

Gilla watched the king a little longer as you leaned against the trunk. You wondered how you would descend without catastrophe as the parade went on.

“A pity it is not his brother,” she uttered under her breath. “To think he stepped down for that Lady Jane… romantic but… he would’ve been a fine king.”

“Oh, and how should you know a fine king?” You snorted sarcastically.

“He was a warrior like Odin. A good king needs to be able to fight.”

“And I heard Loki did fight in kind,” you squinted. “I believe it was you who told me that though I can never be certain where you learn these things.”

“Yes, but no one ever spoke much of this prince’s honour,” she picked at the bark between her legs. “Well, one day, you and me, we’re going to tell our children how we watched the king from this very tree. Isn’t that something?”

“And warn them not to chance the climb,” you muttered, “If we do survive the way down.”

“Oh do not be so grim,” she prodded your shoulder. “We should be away before the king if we want a plate.”

“No, I’ve bread at home.” You watched as she inched to the end of the branch. “You can’t do that-- you’ll--”

“I’ll be just fine but if you want to perish up here for your fear, I’ll mourn you from below.” She leaped and caught herself on the pillar as easily as before. “And I’ll not wait long as I have no desire to be trampled.”

You huffed and pushed your head back. You looked around at the crowd and the king amid the eye of the storm. He stood staunchly, tall and slender, his chin held up as his eyes seemed fixed on the old tree. You would have to be quick before he thought to send one of his many guards. That was if he could even see you.

You readied yourself as Gilla began to shimmy down the pillar. You straddled the branch and neared the end as she had. You felt it dip and closed your eyes in a silent prayer. When you opened them, you pulled your feet up under you and jumped blindly. You hugged the stone and muffled a scream behind your lips. You whimpered as you made certain you weren’t falling.

“Gilla,” you growled as you peered down at her, “I hate you.”

“And that’s why I love you,” she called back.

🐍

The long tent was filled quickly and you sat at the end of a bench with Gilla pressed against you. Your adrenaline deepened your hunger and you quickly stole a pie from the stacks placed among the immense trestles. The voices mingled and blared under the canvas and filled it with damp heat. 

Above the cheerful, chewing noise of the peasants, you could hear the distant din of the nobility. On the other side of the palace wall, they ate from golden plates, not wood, and divulged in food even more savoury and plenty. You didn’t resent a free meal and did not envy the aristocratic celebration. Among your own people, there was no expectation and joy more pure than the rehearsed glee of the upper crest.

Gilla drank two cups of the cheap wine. It tasted like vinegar and the ale smelled sickly. You avoided both as you saw the effects of it all around you.

The night approached in shadows through the open mouth of the tent but the feast wore on. Dancing began as musicians played on drums and untuned lutes. The music was not so sweet as that played by the royal band but it fed a spritely fever in the crowd.

Gilla went to relieve herself as you watched a drunken man in a sloppy jig. The king would be called generous for feeding the masses. It was clever. An unspoken bribe to the citizenry.

When Gilla returned, she was hiccuping but her eyes were lit with delight. She tugged on your hand as she tried to hold in the air as it rose in her chest. She exhaled and rubbed her stomach with her other hand.

“Come, I’ve something to show you.” She declared.

“It’s late, we should go before there’s a brawl,” you cautioned, “You know what happens when ale is poured so freely.”

“Shhh, the sky is not yet black,” she drew you to your feet. “Just come with me.”

You humoured her. She was drunk. Likely, she would forget by the time you were outside. You were certain she had as she led you around the back and past the rear of another tent. In the shadows along the palace wall. she pulled you behind her and pressed herself to the stone.

“I watched the guard go,” she pointed to a small gate hidden along the curve of the barrier, “With a woman… he should be away for some time.”

“A woman.” You echoed. “Oh,” you realised the implication in her words, “So?”

“You’ve never wanted to see the palace?”

“I’ve seen it--”

“From afar. You’ve seen the windows and the rooves. You’ve never seen the gardens or the statues or the fountains…”

“We can’t. Gilla, we’ll get caught and--”

“Be quiet and we won’t,” she tugged on your sleeve and you planted your heels.

“No,” You hissed, “We can’t.”

“No, you won’t,” she snapped, “but you won’t stop me either.”

She let go of you and lifted her skirt above her sandals as she raced forward. You cursed and followed as you watched her stagger through the open gate inset into the stone. You caught her arm as she broke the threshold.

“Gilla--”

“Let go of me!” She said loudly.

You shushed her and recoiled. Her eyes gleamed as she looked at the colourful round tent that swell with lantern light and sweet harp music. She dashed onward and you kept close. You would have to drag her out of here herself if she insisted on crashing the royal festivities.

She stopped at a seam and pulled it apart to peer between the silk. Her face shone as light leaked out from the tent and she gasped. “Look,” she whispered, “They’re all so beautiful.”

You came up beside her and peeked inside. The king sat at a table amid his lords and their ladies, several other trestles were lined with nobles garbed in rich satins and brocade. You looked to Gilla as he lashes fluttered and you tried to pull her back.

“That’s enough,” you sneered, “we can’t linger.” You looked back as you heard a metal clink and the heavy boot fall of a guard, “There is a watch.”

“They cannot see us here,” she clung to the silk. “Could you imagine? Wearing a gown like that?’

“No, and I have no fancy to think of it,” you said, “Gilla…” you quieted as the shadow of guard passed along the front of the tent. You snatched the silk and pushed it together. “Let’s go. Now!”

“Hey!” She shouted and you heard the sharp halt of armoured feet.

“Gilla! Go!” You tore her away from the wall of the tent.

You shoved her ahead of you as the dark figure of the guard came back around to look along the side of the tent. Gilla giggled but kept on as you broke into a sprint. She was at least sensical enough to realise you were being chased. You could hear the pursuit not far behind.

“Go, go, go,” you demanded, “Shit!”

The small gate was closed and another guard stood before it. You veered away and grabbed Gilla’s arm as you directed her over to the wines running up the south end of the wall. The other guard had joined the chase and you didn’t dare look back.

“Climb,” you pushed Gilla into the wall, “Come on.”

She laughed again but did as you bid. You followed closely but your clogs made it hard as the vines caught on them. You kicked off your shoes frantically. Your ankle was caught suddenly and you cried out. Gilla stopped and looked down at you. You tried to wriggle free of the gauntleted hand but your other leg was trapped in kind.

“Go!” You barked up, “Go!”

You wrestled with the guards as they gripped your ankles. With a sharp yank, they tore you from the vines and you landed on your back in the dirt. The air rushed from your lungs and you coughed painfully. 

“Please,” you wheezed as the guards seized your arms and forced you up, “I was just-- I’m lost. I didn’t--”

Metal cut into your lip as a fist struck you. Hard. Your head pulsed and your eyes watered as you were dragged away from the wall. Your feet skidded over the dirt and you struggled to see straight.

“Don’t--” You groaned. “I didn’t do anything.”

“You are trespassing,” the guard snarled. “On royal grounds.”

“I wasn’t doing nothing. Please. You can just let me go and--”

“Get her in irons.” The guard at your left growled to the other, “I’ll have the grounds searched for any others.

“No, no, no,” you tried to resist as the large man jerked you forward. 

“Shut up.” He swatted the back of your head. “You best hope the king is merciful this day.”

🐍

You could say at least that you had seen the palace. however you did not think you would ever have the chance to tell Gilla or anyone else. Past the laundries, past the kitchens, you were thrown into a small room hidden along a vacant corridor. The guard stood inside the door, his hand on his pommel, as sniffed and sniped.

“Fucking wench, ruining the whole night,” he grumbled.

You ignored him as you sat on the floor with your head down. Heavy cuffs held your hands behind you, a chain between them. You should blame Gilla but you only hoped that she got away.

You stayed there for an hour, perhaps more. Were you waiting? And if so, for what?

You were roused only by the sound of mail and armour in the corridor. Another guard approached as the one within opened the door. The single torch on the wall flicker as a trim and tall figure strode inside, the second guard at his back.

“Your majesty,” the guard bowed his head.

“And why have I been disturbed on the night of my coronation?” You stared at the king as his sharp features shone in the licking firelight.

“Your majesty, we can handle the trespasser. We were only about to take them to the dungeon.”

“Can you? How then did he get this far?” The king glared down his nose at the guard. “I am told as I toast to my throne that some street rat has thrown up the alert.”

“It is contained, your maj--”

“Out!” The king barked. “Both of you. I shall deal with the criminal myself.”

King Loki turned to face you and his lip twitched as he looked at you for the first. You quickly lowered your eyes and listened to the guards retreat into the corridor. There was silence as the kicks boots softly moved across the stone. He paced back and forth then approached you suddenly.

“Peasant,” he called as he stopped before you, “I shall permit you to look upon me as I speak. To make certain that you can understand me.”

Slowly, you lifted your head and blinked. “Your majesty,” you rasped. 

He was rather frightening up close. His dark hair hung in loose waves to his shoulders and he was much taller than he seemed from afar. His green eyes glowed even as he blocked the torchlight with his figure.

“You trespassed on crown land. Do you understand the punishment for such an affront?”

You gulped. You knew. All knew. This man’s own father had made his laws and their consequences hard to forget. Your fate became clear all at once.

“Yes, your majesty.” You tried to moisten your lips with your tongue as you found it hard to talk, “Hanging.”

He smirked and tilted his head. He backed up slightly as his hands rested on his hips and he considered you. He chuckled and bent his knees as he squatted before you. He twined his fingers together as he positioned himself as a parent would over their child.

“And are you prepared to hang for your wandering?” He challenged.

You looked him in the face, closer now, you could see the taunting gleam in his eyes. It angered you. The sheer nonchalance that hung from his shoulders.

“If I must, your majesty,” you answered, “I suppose that I am ready.”

His brows drew together as he weighed your words. He stared at you and reached out to free a loose thread from your sleeve.

“And you did also loiter upon a relic of the kingdom,” he said, “Did you not?”

You grimaced as you watched him. You said nothing.

“I almost did hope you would’ve fallen. It would’ve have been just, wouldn’t it?” 

Your lips parted in realisation. He had seen you.

“As your majesty says,” you agreed, “It is your justice.”

He stood and snickered. He went to the corner and took the short stool hidden there. He approached again and sat across from you.

“Why did you trespass?” He asked pointedly.

“I was lost,” you answered.

“You know, it would be a third offense to lie to your king.” You pressed your lips together. “You are rather convincing when you try to act brave but you are not such a good liar on other fronts.” His long fingers tapped above his knee. “So why did you trespass?”

“Lost, your majesty. I only realised too late how lost I truly was.” You repeated.

“But there was another? Perhaps that accomplice who also scaled the Founder’s Tree?”

“It was dark. It was only me.” You could not say Gilla was there for that only meant she would suffer too. “I am to the core sorry that I did trespass and it is not an act I would repeat. Though I can gather that I would not have the chance to.”

He nodded and raised his chin as he looked to the ceiling. He bit his lip as he thought. He smirked again. When he looked at you, his gaze made you want to shudder. 

“It is a night of celebration and as king, I should show mercy on such occasion, especially so early into my reign.” He said evenly, “So perhaps you might beg mercy and I might show benevolence.”

His tone was mocking and pompous. He enjoyed his power over you, though it was no feat to hold authority over a commoner. There were horses of better standing than you. You swallowed. Your life was not worth his arrogance. You would play his game.

“Your majesty, I beg your mercy--”

“On your knees,” he flicked two fingers up. “Do it proper, now. I know you’ve not training in etiquette but I do expect some decency.”

You hid your discomfort and shifted as you pulled your legs under you. With your hands bound, it was awkward and difficult. As you raised yourself on your knees, you fell forward and he caught you before you could hit his knee. He chuckled.

“Your majesty,” you cleared your throat as he righted you. “Thank you,” you choked out, embarrassed. “I…” You exhaled, “I beg of you to show me mercy for my offense--”

“Crimes,” he interjected.

“...for my crimes,” you corrected, “And I pray that you will not sentence me harshly.”

He was quiet. He raised his brows expectantly.

“Please, your majesty, I beg of you.” You pleaded, “Please, if you were to spare me, I would be forever beholden to you.”

He tapped his toe and pushed his shoulders back. He stood suddenly and his emerald cape flapped behind him as he folded his hand behind him. He paced and stopped again, in front of you. He gazed down at you and brought his hand forward to pick his nail.

“Mercy, I grant you. You, little mouse, will not be hung.” He announced. “On my crown, I am merciful.”

He spun and went to the door. He hit his knuckles on the thick wood and it was opened quickly from the other side.

“She will not face the rope,” he said, “But do see her to the dungeons.”

“Wait!” You nearly fell forward as you tried to stand, “You said I would have mercy--”

“And you do,” he turned sharply as the guard blocked the door with his arm. “I have given you your life.”

“A life in the dungeons--”

“A life beholden to me,” he said, “That was what you promised.”

He swiftly continued down the corridor and the guard came forward to lift you to your feet. You listened to the light footfalls of the king as he retreated and you were led out into the hallway. You were turned in the opposite direction and the walls seem to close in with each step.

Who would ever call this mercy?

[quietrobots]

The gay Gil and Flint Fic

words: 1,116

Notes: They/Them Flint. I refuse to use he for series!Flint shsjjs aLSO I didn’t proof read this so if it’s incoherent,,,my bad shsjsn

Gil didn’t think he would find comfort in anyone but his father, but thanks to his pursuit of Sam, he inadvertently got closer to her best friend, Flint Lockwood. The inventor’s presence was quick to become a welcome one in place of his father’s constant neglect. Gil found himself following Flint around even when Sam wasn’t around. Soon enough they were hanging out out of their own volition.

Flint was happy to have another person to tell their scientific rambles to, and Gil was just happy that he had found someone that actually appreciates his presence.

It was now that Flint was walking out of the school with Sam, half-listening to her speech about how meteorologists are under appreciated in the scientific community. They nodded along, but their thoughts faded to their friend. Sure enough they heard someone call their name from behind. “Flint!” They both turned and saw Gil running to approach them.

A smile grew on Flint’s face while a frown grew on Sam’s. “Gil!” Flint waved and waited for the mayor’s son to catch up. Gil panted when he finally caught up.

“Hold on. I have to stay and help Mayor Dad with his new plans for the school. But I wanted to give you this, Flint.” He held out his hands and Flint gasped. They took the item from Gil with a squeal.

“A Chester V figurine? But they stopped selling these last year! Oh Gil, how’d you even find this?” Flint bounced in place, holding the figure of his greatest inspiration tightly.

“Oh you know, mayor’s son’s allowance.” Gil blushed slightly. He scratched his neck and rocked on his heels bashfully. “Anything for you, Flint.” Flint smiled brightly and leaned down to hug their shorter friend.

“You’re the best, Gil. See you when you’re done?”

“For sure.” Gil gave them one last smile. He then glanced at Sam. “Oh, Hello Sam. Nice to see you.” He then turned and ran back into the school, eager to help his father.

“Wow. He sure moved on from me, huh.” Sam glanced knowingly at Flint, who was still amused by the Chester V merchandise in their hands. She coughed to get their attention.

“Huh?” Flint’s trance was broken. “Oh yeah, it’s super cool.” They clearly didn’t hear what Sam had said before. Sam huffed with a lighthearted eye roll and continued to walk. Her friend joined her after they put the merch in their backpack carefully.

“He ask you out yet?” Sam smirked as she spoke. Flint’s face instantly flushed pink.

“Wh-a-t…?” Their voice cracked. “I-Uh-I don’t know what you mean, Sam.” They gripped their backpack straps and avoided eye contact with Sam.

“C’mon, Flint. Everyone on Swallow Falls knows you two like each other.” Sam’s voice was in a lovey-dovey tone in order to embarrass Flint further. It worked. They were unable to speak.

“I…uh…” they gulped. “No. He hasn’t.” They resigned, knowing that there was no way they were going to be able to lie about their feelings about Gil to Sam. Sam giggled, only embarrassing Flint further (if that was possible).

“Well that Chester figure seems pretty indicative of a proposal coming soon.” Sam half joked. Flint secretly hoped that she was right. That the gift was indicative of the other’s feelings.

Flint took a deep breath. “Maybe.” They forced a nervous smile. Sam patted her friend’s shoulder with a smile.

“Don’t over think it.” Sam smiled.

“I won’t.”

They lied.

Flint had paced around their lab the moment they got home. “Do you think he likes me, Steve?” Their lab partner was sat in his assistant’s chair.

“Bored!” Steve flopped down on the cushion, growing tired of watching his owner circle around him.

“You think he’s bored of me?” Flint looked at the monkey, heartbroken. “That can’t be true.” They went to their backpack and opened it up, drawing the limited edition Chester V figurine out once more. “I hope your wrong, Steve.” They placed it on their desk. “No offense.” Flint smiled nervously. Steve looked back up at him with zero recognition of his feelings.

Suddenly the curtain to Flint’s lab opened. “Flint~!” Gil poked his head in, which made Flint jump. “I’m finally free! Oh you should have seen what me and Mayor Dad did to improve the school! I can’t wait to show you tomorrow!” Gil beamed up at the inventor. Flint tried their best to reciprocate the happy mood.

“That’s great, Gil.” They forced a smile. Gil’s head tilted. Immediately he started thinking that he had done something wrong. That he had done something to have Flint’s fondness of him squashed. His eyes started to get glossy.

“I’m sorry Flint. I’ll go. I’m so sorry. I never meant to do anything wrong- I’ll just go-“ Gil was already heading towards the door.

“What?” Flint perked up. They ran around Gil and blocked the entrance. “Y-You can’t go! You just got here.”

“But- But you sounded so upset. I never meant to upset you. I should really just go-“

Flint leaned down so they could be eye level with their friend. They placed their hands on his shoulders as well. “I’m not upset, Gil.” Flint looked down once Gil looked up at him. “I just…can’t stop thinking about…something.” They stood up straight again and started walking towards their desk. They placed their hand by the figure they had placed there moments ago. Gil followed them, not quite sure how to respond.

“About what, Flint?” Gil finally managed. Flint took a deep breath. They weren’t sure if they wanted to risk ruining one of the two friendships they had ever had. They turned to face their friend again, still not making eye contact.

“I…I think I like you. Like…more than just like you. And Sam thinks you feel the same way but I’m just not so sure. Like, who could like me? Especially like that? I don’t even know if I would make a good boyfriend-“ Gil’s eyes widened and a faint blush grew on his cheeks as Flint continued to ramble.

“I think you’d make an okay boyfriend.” Gil slipped out. Flint stopped in their tracks and looked at Gil shyly.

“W-What?”

“Do you think…I’d be a good one?” Gil looked up at them with hopeful eyes. Flint simply nodded, worried that if they tried to speak their voice would crack.

Gil held his hand up for Flint to take. Flint hesitated, but grabbed the other’s hand gently. Gil smiled at their hands brightly before looking up at Flint, who was also smiling.

“Gil, c’mon, don’t cry.” Flint’s smile fell. Gil sniffed and wiped his face on his sleeve.

“Sorry, sorry.” He giggled. Flint chuckled with him.

[descendantofthesparrow]

Regained Passion - Harry Hook x Reader - Part 2 - proper meeting

=

Harry let out a slow breath as he stared into the void in his history class, it had been a full week since he started the dance classes, and almost every day Bert mentioned putting him into a higher experienced class due to his flexibility and the fact that Harry was already a good dancer. But again, Harry wasn’t into the dance class that much, he liked dancing, it's just he didn't like being forced to dance.

His counselor had tried to ask about his first week but Harry was stubborn as usual, even glaring at her during it. She had sighed and rubbed her nose “I can't help you if you don’t open up to me Mr. Hook” Harry had only glared again, he didn’t want or need her help, yeah, he was a little fucked up in the head but if he wanted therapy or a consular, he would get it, not something FG forced on him.

After history finally ended, Harry grabbed his backpack and walked out of the room, sighing in relief as he realized he only had one class left, and it was his favorite, history of sailors and the seven seas. It talked all about pirates and sailors, particularly one of his favorite pirates, Jack Sparrow. One of the few pirates that had escaped isle imprisonment, due to him being pardoned of his crimes after it was discovered that his branding of a pirate had been connected to his freeing of hundreds of slaves.

Harry froze as a now very familiar face stepped into the hall he was walking in, she was looking down at her book, her black backpack hanging off her shoulder, bringing her denim jacket down with it off her shoulder, revealing her gray t-shirt. She suddenly looked up, her sparking (e/c) eyes once again locking with his.

Harry felt the butterflies flood his body again and he ducked into the next hall, away from his class, and pressed himself against the wall, sliding down as he closed his eyes and buried his face in his hands ‘what am I doing?’ he thought, gritting his teeth ‘hiding from a pretty girl? What the hell?’

“Are you hiding from me?” Harry jumped and slammed his head against the locker behind him, looking up to see the girl, who had covered her mouth in shock from Harry's sudden motion “Are you okay?”

“Me? Hiding? No-no I don’- I don’t hide” Harry laughed off his embarrassment, standing from the floor and rubbing the back of his head, wincing slightly “I don’ hide from anyone” the girl smirked and rose her brow as she tilted her head.

“I looked up and as soon as I made eye contact you leaped behind the wall, and then stayed there until I came around the corner, I think that classifies as hiding.” Harry pouted at her, his heart going crazy as she laughed. “Now why would you hide from me? Im, not my brother mind you” Harry rose his brow at that.

“Who’s yer brother?” Harry asked, smirking as she made a sour face.

“Chad” Harry grimaced, relaxing a bit as she laughed again.

“I’m so sorry” her eyes widened a bit and she laughed even harder.

“I accept your condolences, he’s not a fun person to be related to, it took me a month to convince half the school that Chad and I are very different even though we're twins” Harry looked at her up at down, she didn’t look like Chad? “I know, fraternal twins though”

Harry hummed, nodding along, he remembered a couple of sets of twins on the isle, and even when they were “identical” twins, they didn’t look exactly like each other sometimes. “You’re Harry Hook, right?” Harry nodded again, ignoring the flutter of his heart as she said his name “I’m (y/n), (y/n) Charming” (y/n) held out her hand, giving Harry a warm smile.

“Dinne think yeh would even say hi ta me, considering wha’ yer brother has probably told yeh ‘bout meh” he took her hand, stilling for a moment as he felt a small shock ran up his arm and through his body. Shit what the hell was going on with him!?

“Well,” (y/n) laughed, once again sending butterflies through his gut “after almost 18 years of dealing with his dumbass, I've learned to not trust his word, if he says you’re a ‘filthy pirate’ then you aren’t all that bad” Harry smirked and shook his head, not seeing (y/n) freeze for a moment and stare at his lips.

“Yer somethin’ else I’ll tell yeh tha’” he laughed, biting the inside of his cheek as (y/n) looked away from him and fixed her backpack strap. “What’s yer next class?”

“Um-“ (y/n) started, pursing her lips a bit as she thought “Oh! History of sailors and the seven seas!” Harry couldn’t help the smile that grew on his lips.

“Same ‘ere, shall I escort yeh yer highness?” (y/n) gave him a look, then smiled.

“You may” (y/n) laughed, taking his arm as he offered it and they chatted quietly as Harry walked them both to class.

-

Harry threw his pencil on his table as he finished his English homework, leaning back in his chair and sighing. “Hey, Harry?” Uma started, looking up from her magic homework (a new class that FG had made for the magic endowed vks that needed to learn how to control their magic safely)  “You made goody-goody with Chad's sister right?” Harry looked over his shoulder to her, raising his brow.

“Aye? Why?” a devious look overcame Uma’s face, and Harry sat up “Uma” Harry started, a warning tone to his voice, they had just gotten to Auradon two months ago, at the start of the school year, and he loved Uma with all his heart but if she was trying to plan to overtake Auradon by using (y/n) he would have to put his foot down (which he didn’t know why he would defend the girl so eagerly, even turning against his oldest friend like that)Auradon was a lot nicer than they thought and he’d rather not lose the comfy bed and fresh food he had just gotten.

“Oh chill!” Uma scoffed, waving her hand and rolling her eyes “I’m not planning any takeovers or whatever, I wanted to know if she gets along with her brother or not” Harry mentally sighed in relief and leaned back in his chair again.

“Um, no, I said sorry to her that she was his sister and she accepted my condolences, called him a dumbass too” Uma smirked again, a glint in her eye…he knew that glint, it was the glint of pranks “Oh! Do yeh want me ta-“

“Yes,” Uma interrupted him, rubbing her arms together as he saw a plan forming in her mind “ask her if she wants to help us prank Chad, fucker decided to ‘accidentally” Uma used finger quotes “spill grape juice all over my new jacket, and we all know that shit stains, didn’t even apologize either” Harry grit his teeth. Chad, one of the very few teens at Auradon prep that still harassed the vks, he was a bully and a thief, something Harry could respect on the isle but even on the isle you didn’t bully Uma without getting Harry’s hook to your face.

“I’ll ask ‘er when next time I see ‘er, we don’ have a lot of classes together, and her dance class ends after mine” Uma smirked at that, leaning into her hand.

“How are those going by the way?” Harry just let out a raspberry, and Uma fell back on Gil’s bed, laughing away.

-

The next day, after Harry's dance class, he waited outside (y/n)s room, standing awkwardly and out of place as others passed by him, some looking at him oddly while others ignored him or simply glanced at him.

There were one or two flirtatious looks but Harry ignored those, continuing to wait for (y/n). about fifteen minutes of waiting, the class finally ended, and as (y/n)s fellow dancers exited the room, many of them stared at him, whispering amongst themselves for a moment before one turned to him. “(y/n)s talking to Esmerelda, she’ll be in there for a moment” She had a strong French accent and Harry nodded in thanks, the group finally moving on as the girl who had spoken up pushed them away from the room.

After a couple more moments of waiting Harry got impatient, walking up to the door and peeking in, seeing (y/n) standing in front of Esmerelda, looking down at her feet “(y/n) your posture is perfect, your leg is always perfectly straight during the Penché, everything you do during practice is perfect but…there's just no…passion (y/n), where is it? You are only doing the steps, you aren’t feeling the music, where is the love, the sorrow, the yearning? This is a dance to convey two people falling in love (y/n), and I don’t see any of it coming from you” Harry felt his chest hurt as Esmerelda sighed, looking away from (y/n) who stayed silent. “(y/n) if you can't find the passion I need for the piece…I’m going to have to switch you out, I’m sorry” (y/n) looked up at that, and Harry couldn’t see her face but he could tell there were tears in her eyes “You are one of my best dancers (y/n), but without passion, you are doing nothing but following the steps.” (y/n) nodded slowly. Esmerelda smiled and took her chin “You just have to find your spark again, I know you can do it…I’ll see you tomorrow” (y/n) nodded again, turning to grab her bag.

Harry ducked out of the doorframe and went back to lean against the wall, looking down at his converse as he waited for (y/n). “Harry?” he looked up, (y/n) walking toward him from the door and tilting her head “What are you doing here?”

Harry smirked, it turning to a smile as (y/n) smiled back. Good, that meant she wasn’t super down from her talk with Esmerelda. “I was wonderin’ if yeh wanted ta help Uma n’ I prank Chad~” Harry had hardly finished his sentence before (y/n) grinned, stepping even close to him.

“Hell yes!” Harry shared her grin and offered his arm again, walking her out of the building and back to the dorms to Uma’s room, where Uma would tell them her plan.

-

Two days later, Chad’s hair was puke green. And he didn’t suspect a damn thing, even as (y/n) held her laughter as she stood next to him, sharing a sly thumbs up with Harry and Uma as they cackled at him.

“You’re definitely cut from a different fabric princess” Uma chuckled, Harry moving to the side of the bench he and Uma were sitting on as you walked over to them when Chad bolted off screaming after realizing his hair was green (for someone who stared at himself almost all day it took him a while to notice his hair) (y/n) grinned in thanks and plopped down next to Harry, not noticing Uma’s smirk as Harry scooted closer to (y/n).

“I’ll take that as a compliment” (y/n) laughed, leaning against the table and looking towards the door “How long do you think it’ll be before Chad suspects us?”

“Three days” Gil decided, suddenly appearing and sitting down next to Uma. And as usual, holding a bowl of grapes “I give it three days”

(y/n) hummed at that, tapping her fingers on the table “Well Chad is smart,” (y/n) laughed a bit at Uma and Harry's look of ‘really?!’ “I know shocking…well less smart more cunning, but I say he’ll either figure it out by the end of the day or he’ll bolt up in the middle of the night and then figure it out, can't say which or when, but it’s one of those”

“By the way,” Gil interrupted (y/n), pointing his finger right at her “who are you?” Gil had been out of the room every time (y/n) came over to Uma or Harry and Gil's room to plan for the plank, so oddly enough he had yet to meet (y/n) before today.

“Gil!” Harry hissed through his teeth, Uma smirking once more at his reaction. (y/n) laughed and held out her hand.

“I’m (y/n), (y/n) Charming, Chad’s sister” Gil took her hand and shook it, giving her a sympathetic look.

“I’m so sorry” (y/n) laughed again, unknowingly sending a flurry of butterflies through Harry again.

“Harry said the same thing a couple days ago, I accept your condolences” Gil released (y/n)s hand and went back to his grapes as Uma intertwined her hands and looked at (y/n)

“So you and Harry go to the same dance school, right? Do you ever dance together?” Harry felt his cheeks turn red at the question and he pouted at Uma, not really wanting to bring up the topic of the classes he hated so much.

“I guess? Different classes but same building, I’m a ballet dancer, been one since I was a kid. Harry, I think is still in the beginner class but Harry?” He glanced at (y/n) with a raised bro and a hum “You said Bert’s thinking of upgrading your placement?” Harry huffed and leaned on his hand.

“Aye, somethin’ bout me being a higher level than beginner, I dinne kae I din’ listen more than tha’” both Uma and (y/n) hummed at that. “I din’ even wan’ ta do the damn classes in the first place so I don’t see why I should level up or whatever” Harry grumbled, pouting at nothing.

Uma forced the grin off her face. Harry, ever since he had made friends with (y/n), started to be more…enthusiastic when going to the studio, no longer dragging his feet. And after the first time he picked up (y/n) from her class he did it the next day, and the next. Uma knew Harry and she knew he was catching feelings for the princess, even if he himself didn’t realize it yet.

Harry had only known the princess for about a month now, but Uma could tell when Harry liked someone, and he really-really liked (y/n), he wouldn’t admit it until he knew what words to connect his feelings yet but, Uma could wait.

Now, Uma wouldn’t do anything to push Harry and (y/n) together yet, she didn’t know if (y/n) shared any feelings about Harry, but once Uma did find out? Oooh, it was going to be fun.

But for now? Uma watched (y/n) and Harry talk, smiling behind her hand at the sparkle within Harry's eye, she would sit and watch their relationship bloom.

-end of part 2-

part 2~ hope yall enjoyed and like (y/n) so far, and i do want to put a *sprinkle* of angst in this so it'll come with (y/n)s struggle to show feeling in her dance and maybe some Chad shenanigan's anyway~ yeah i think this will be a 10 part series at most, and im liking where its going atm.

anyway im gonna draw a blue ballgown now because i don't like any of the designs i found on google or Pinterest

Permtaglist

@queer-cosette​ @sephiralorange​ @lunanight2012​

@daughter-of-the-stars11​ @musicarose​ @random-thoughts-003​

@remembered-license​ @thecaptainsgingersnap​ @rintheemolion​

@imtryingthisout​ @verboetoperee​ @jatp-rules-my-life​