#and Gil has always been very careful to keep his thoughts to himself

[softquietsteadylove]

Hey sweetheart. I got this idea maybe you can do something with it? Thena is scared of eating food that isn’t sealed and made by her because she got food poisoned by someone (friend group/ex/collegue/father/or whatever you choose) so Gil, her husband or boyfriend, does a taste tasting before every meal even if he cooked it.

"You made it!"

Thena smiled at Gil from over the counter of his warm and homey restaurant. He had told her to come a half hour before he closed. it was their quietest night of the week, and he usually let his other staff go early. It could be just them.

Really, he had been trying to convince her to come to the restaurant for quite a while. He understood she had trouble eating out, but he wanted to share his food with her, and she wanted to experience it.

She kept telling herself Gil's food would be different.

Gil's food would be lovingly made. It was food he shared with everyone who came to his restaurant. There were other customers who tried it everyday, there were health inspectors who made sure everything was safe. And most importantly, it was made by Gil.

But still, she couldn't shake her fear.

The way her whole body trembled at the thought of food she hadn't made for herself. She would feel cold sweat on her palms as she remembered the burning sensation she had felt in her throat. That food had also been 'made with love', as far as she had known.

"Hey," Gil rushed to the edge of the counter, leaning over it as if he could jump over it completely to greet her.

"Hey," she managed to smile. Gilgamesh always acted so happy to see her, as if it were the highlight of his day. She leaned over to kiss him. She could already taste whatever he'd been cooking on his lips.

Gil knew. She hadn't had much choice but to tell him. After his seventh attempt at asking her to join him for dinner or even coffee, he had outright asked if he'd misread her--if she wasn't interested in seeing him. She had never rushed so fast to correct someone.

It was hard to 'date' when she was deathly afraid of eating food she hadn't prepared herself. She was trying, going to therapy, trying small steps, like having pre-made, sealed foods from convenience stores and the like.

She had told Gil about Kro, and the 'anniversary dinner' that had nearly left her without any taste buds at all. Her time in the hospital, learning her partner had not, in fact, accepted her rejection of moving in together and had opted to poison her instead.

Nothing deadly, just enough to permanently scar her for life.

And she had been prepared to hear that she was blowing things out of proportion, letting her fear get the better of her, that she had to get over it. But he had looked at her, with that sweet face of his. And all he had to say was that he understood, and he wouldn't push it.

And he hadn't. They saw each other in ways that didn't centre food. They went to museums, and parks, and aquariums. She would get a sealed smoothie from the health section of a grocery store while he got a coffee, and they would talk. He had kept his promise, he didn't push it.

Only once did he offer her a bite of something reflexively, and she had just stared at it. He had retracted it, worried he was offending her. But really...it did look good. And she did like smoked salmon bagels. And she had wanted to have a bite.

"Oh," he had blinked with realisation. Then, he brought the bagel up to his own lips and took a bite, making sure to show her how he chewed and swallowed it. He even waited a few seconds before holding it out to her again. "What about now?"

And that was how they worked. Thena could broach her fear a little at a time, with Gil's help. He would taste test things for her, prove their harmlessness. And, upon seeing that there was no immediate danger, she could work up the courage to get through the rest.

And tonight was her ultimate test to herself. Had she come far enough in her fear to trust Gil's cooking without the need for him to test it for her first?

"I'm so glad you're here," he whispered to her, lingering close despite them being the only ones there.

Thena still ducked her head, a smitten smile coming over her. She looked around the empty dining room. "Don't tell me you closed early just for this."

"Nah, this is just what it's like monday nights," Gil shrugged. He removed his hands from hers, dragging himself away and to his kitchen equipment.

There were plates sitting atop a shelf, being kept warm--probably too hot for anyone untrained to handle, actually. But Gil grabbed them with his bare hands and placed all three down in front of her. "Careful, babe."

She eyed him; how he handled such searing hot plates all day was beyond her. But she looked at the food. It looked and smelled delicious, and they were some of her favourites. There was steaming hot curry over fluffy rice, positively glistening slices of roast chicken, and even some pasta, seemingly dressed in a simple mix of oil and spices.

Her stomach churned.

"These are three specialties I developed in culinary school," Gil narrated as he rounded the counter properly so he could take a seat next to her. He pulled his apron off and unbuttoned the top of his chef's jacket. "And I adapted them to my menu here because--well, I guess, because why not?"

She smiled, trying to listen to him and not stare down the meal glaring at her. The smells were so tempting, but looking at the food still filled her with dread. "How did you come up with them?"

"Well, curry I always loved as a kid," he admitted with a boyish grin. He had such natural charm; she never would have been able to resist agreeing to go out with him, fear of food or not. "I kept developing little ways to make it the best curry for me. Then, when I started cooking seriously, I could start making it the best curry--period."

Thena looked at the curry, hoping she could muster the love for it that Gil had. It looked so good, warm and rich in colour, steam coming off it. She blinked as Gil reached past her, scooping up a mouthful for himself. She just stared as he chewed and gulped it down before moving on.

"The chicken is the first thing I really, really nailed in class," he grinned, moving onto his next creation. "It's pretty basic to learn how to roast a chicken, but I ended up drying out my first and second attempts, so I got determined to get it right."

He didn't even finish his story before picking up a slice of breast with the skin on. He had done amazing justice to it; she could see the juices of it dripping as he tossed it into his mouth without even need for utensils. He chewed a little.

"I spent hours going over my notes," he paused, finally gulping this one down loudly too. "Developed the perfect wet brine to keep it juicy, rotated it multiple times to keep it even, slathered it in butter--I went all out."

He certainly did; he was licking his fingers.

"And when I finally presented my success, I was top of the class," he declared with another bright grin. "The pasta-"

He paused, picking up her fork and twirling some around it. And for a second, she dreaded the thought that he was going to hold it up for her to try it, and she was going to have to overpower her own nervous system to make herself take a bite of her boyfriend's delicious food.

But once again, Gil took a bite of his own food himself, proving to her the harmlessness, and deliciousness. He slurped up the last tail end of a noodle, licking his lips. "I mean, alio e olio is actually a really common dish. But it's hard to make one stand out. And also I know you love garlic-y pasta."

"So in school, they teach you the traditional way to make it, but there are a lot of different techniques, some that have been developed really recently," he set her fork down again. "I tried one that's definitely the best, but takes a while. We pre-boil the noodles, but nowhere near being done. Then you seal them and basically let the steam get them just to the point where they'll be perfectly al dente when you finish them in the sauce."

Thena continued to stare at him.

Finally broken from his reverie of culinary exposition, he looked at her too. And the very sweet Gilgamesh that had first asked her out for coffee in the convenience store was right in front of her again.

"A-Are you okay?" he rushed to ask her, leaning in his stool and putting his hand on her arm. "Is it too much? You don't have to--I'm sorry."

She shook her head faintly.

"I shouldn't have rushed this, sweetheart," he continued to lament, moving his hand from her arm to clasp her hand between both of his. "Listen, we can just...put this on hold, y'know? There's nothing wrong with that. I can clean up here and hey!--h-how about coffee and a smoothie? Tomorrow we-"

Thena cut him off, lurching forward and kissing him so hard his word slurred right off his tongue and onto hers. Her free hand held his cheek, bringing him closer as if she was going to crawl into his lap right here in his own restaurant.

He blinked now, stunned as she pulled away from him. He ran his tongue over his lips a few times before his eyes managed to focus again. "Uh, no complaints hon, but...what's on your mind?"

She just laughed, shaking her head at him as she swiped at her lips, just to make sure her gloss was still in place. "Do you have any idea how perfect you are?"

"No," he blurted out, because Gil was the type to blurt something out honestly and think second. And she adored that about him. His thoughts followed and he smiled too. "But if you wanna tell me...?"

She swiped at his lips this time, making sure her lip colour hadn't migrated to him unwittingly. "You tested it for me."

That definitely confused him. His expressions were so easy to read, his heart on his sleeve at all times. "Isn't that what we do?"

"Yes," she laughed again, fainter this time. She looked at the food again, her anxiety retreating to the deeper corners of her mind again. "But I hadn't expected...it's your food."

"So?"

As if she could be more in love with this man.

But he meant it. He moved their hands, lacing his fingers with hers and touching the hand of hers that was on his cheek. "Thena, my food is no different than any other restaurant's, any other grocery store sushi or cafe sandwich."

It was vastly different, because his food would taste vastly better.

He moved his head so he could kiss her palm. "I'll test anything for you, Thena. I would do anything for you."

She shook her head at him again, because what else could she do? Tears pricked her eyes, but she refused to cry over food with him anymore.

Gli's smile returned. "I'll taste test everything for you, for as long as you want me to. I don't care if it's a little halloween candy bar or every hors d'oeuvre at a wedding buffet."

She laughed again, because he was good at making her laugh. "You can't do that."

"Why not?" he asked, and he meant it as a question. "My friends are getting married next summer. I'll be the official taste tester of everything. The appetizers, the meal, the cake."

Thena sighed, as deliriously happy as she was. "You can't taste test everything for me, Gilgamesh."

"I don't care," he whispered, leaning in to kiss her again. "It makes you feel safe, Thena. And I'll do anything to make that happen."

She kissed him back, no longer wondering if she was falling too hard and too fast for the earnest and endearing chef in front of her. She most certainly was. "You."

He pressed his lips to her forehead, and she could feel him smiling against her skin.

"You make me feel safe," she clarified, just in case there was any question at all. She got another kiss, assuring there wasn't.

"Hey," he whispered, pulling himself away from her but still hovering close. "Hungry?"

She nodded, blinking away more tears (happy, this time).

"Ready?" he asked as he twirled up some pasta for her.

And for the first time in a year and a half, she looked at the forkful of food with genuine desire. She was ready.

[ruukina]

WOLFISH

FANDOM: final fantasy xvi PAIRING: clive rosfield x reader ( gender neutral, afab ) RATING: explicit / 18+. minors dni. SUMMARY: After an exhausting week of running around Valisthea, you return home with your heart full and missing a certain outlaw. What you find upon your return is different... but not unwelcomed. WARNINGS: slightly rough sex, dirty talking, breeding kink, implied heat cycle. WORD COUNT: 7.7k

A/N: yeah i'm fairly down bad for this man. i normally don't write reader fics but i'm trying to expand my horizons so. here we are. gotta feed myself in this economy right?? expect more ffxvi stuff, whether its reader insert or other shit because the brainworms are very bad.

read on ao3!

It’s a silent ride back to Hideaway, as it always is on these solo missions of yours.

It’s not a common thing, but every so often you find yourself having to run around all of Valisthea with the job of making payments and collecting orders from the many kind souls that have been helping the cause that even keeps your personal home afloat. In fact, you could even say as Cid’s personal advisor, this was your main job; Otto was busy running the Hideaway and keeping it in check, so the job fell to you when you weren’t tailing after the man you worked under.

You also didn’t mind it, because it meant you had some time to yourself. You had the wind at your back, the smell of sea water to keep you company, and you could be in your thoughts alone.

Usually you didn’t mind it, at the very least. 

It’s not a long task to do or even a hard one, in fact you’d argue that most of your time spent there is arguing with the likes of Martha and Isabelle and even L’ubor to accept the gil that Cid himself has offered to give them, but this month’s mission of yours was different. It seemed like a certain boss of yours had racked up a few requests and the people he graciously helped either wanted to give him a reward or send a letter to ask for more help. And since you were unfortunately playing messenger, it meant that you were basically running around and doing his job… in the sense of gathering the requests and gifts, of course.

So, you were being a little delayed in returning. You made sure to send a Stolas, to let everyone know you weren’t dead - just incredibly busy.

But now you finally found yourself on the ferry back home and you were impatient to get back. Excited to get back to everyone, excited to finally be returning after about a week of having to travel by Chocobo to get to everywhere.

Excited to return back to him.

“Hey, Obolus, are we almost there yet?” You peer over to the ferryman, the wind wilding through your hair.

Obolus didn’t even look back at you, as he ‘tsks’ in response. “We’ll get there when we get there. Asking every five seconds won’t make the boat go any faster.”

You scrunch your nose at him, but he did unfortunately have a point. The trip usually never feels so long, but after being away for what seems like months, you were just anxious to get back and rest your feet. The silence of the ride passes, with only the sound of waves pressing against the exterior of the boat. 

You lean against the side and take the chance to reflect on all that’s happened. All that you’ve experienced. 

All that you’ve done.

You don’t really remember when you became Cid’s advisor. It’s had to have been years at this point, you remember only barely being what one would call an adult. You were a bearer without a brand, hiding your magic behind crystals. It’s what your father had taught you, to protect you from the cruel world you were born in. You were cursed, your mother refused to even acknowledge your existence - even more so after the death of your father. You only lived the way that you did because your mother loved your father more than she loved you, and made your father take care of you.

Your father never gave up on you. An idealist in a world of realists, he really thought you could be the one to change the world. 

He set himself up for failure, you bitterly had thought when news of his death arrived at your doorstep. He died for a cause he believed in, sure, but now he expected you to carry on that torch for him. And maybe there was a part of you that wanted to fight for a better world than the one you were handed, for those like you. You weren’t really sure what your true feelings were at that time.

There was one thing you did know, however; you knew you weren’t safe in your mother’s care, so you ran the day after your father’s passing and never looked back. You’re not even sure if your mother is even still alive or if she even misses you. Did she start anew, start all over with someone else and have a child she could be proud of?

As the years went on, you found that you didn’t even care. You can’t remember her face anymore.

You were crafty, a trickster, because that’s what kept you alive. Somehow, your paths with Cidolfus Telamon crossed. Not just once or twice, but five times. Four times, you rejected his appraisal and invitation to join him.

On the fifth path crossed, and the day he saved you from death, you finally joined him. You didn’t really expect to stay long in Hideaway, only thinking you would spend a few weeks or even a month before you jumped ship. You never stayed in one place for long, because it was always too dangerous for you to attach yourself to people. But everyone was so kind, so nice to you, and welcomed you with open arms. 

Especially Cidolfus.

You clung to him a lot, maybe because despite only meeting him five times he was the only person you really knew, and somehow you managed to become his advisor with your skills and your ability to pull him back to the ground. Otto was against it at first, not because he didn’t like you, but you were barely an adult. Yet, Cid had smiled and patted you on the shoulder, telling Otto that there was more to you than meets the eye.

It’s much more than what your mother gave you. Worthless, unneeded, dirty, sinful - that’s all that she had called you. Your own father would try and raise your spirits, but her words were sharp as a knife and they cut wounds in your wrists. Weeks turned into months, months turned into years, and you stayed. You stayed with the people who would become your family.

One day, Cid left with Goetz and the wolf he ( or rather, charon ) cared for, because of rumors of Shiva’s Dominant finally rising in a place where he can finally catch her, to give her the freedom she needed. He came back with Goetz carrying a girl on his back, and a branded man with the wolf practically attached to his hip.

Clive Rosfield.

You didn’t realize it at the time, but the man before you would change your life completely.

Cid introduced you to him, asking you to watch over him and help him adjust to the Hideaway. It’s almost funny to think about, because despite Clive’s grumblings about ‘not staying long’ ( words that echoed in your head as familiar, because you had said the same thing ), when you finally got track of him again, he was out helping the people of Hideaway. 

You made a joke about that and he quickly looked away, some colour on his cheeks and the tips of his ears. It was a cute sight, unsightly for a rugged man like him. Despite his appearances, he was kind and soft, albeit a bit cynical from the hardships he faced in his life. Then you ended up helping him help people, because there wasn’t much to do at that time and you needed to stretch your legs, and that’s how Cid decided on his great idea to make Clive your personal assistant.

Clive then realized when Cid told him you ran him ragged, he meant it, because once Cid assigned Clive to you, it didn’t take you long to get him working because as long as someone could move, they could work. But of course, you joined Clive on his journey to help him out. Some days you had to stay at Hideaway but for the most part, you were at his side alongside Cid. 

You and Clive bonded together. Quick whips with one another, long nights together trying to figure out your next course of action with the Mothercrystals and how to save Valisthea, and slowly he became someone you… well, liked, essentially. You don’t exactly make friends with people, because you’ve never really had the chance to do so, but somehow Clive stabbed his way into your life and heart. 

He became softer with you, and you did too. You found it was easy to smile with him, to laugh with him, to love him. It scared you, because Clive was a Dominant - the second, mysterious Eikon of Fire, and yet something so much more than that. It was basically a target on your back, even more so than the relationship you had with Cid.

But you found that you couldn’t stop loving him, that you would endure the burning world for him. Maybe that scared you more.

He held you when you sobbed and broke down over Cid - the first time your mask of being strong ever cracked. You hated it, you hated being weak, because Cid didn’t need weak people helping him. Cid needed someone who could put themselves back together, but this time you couldn’t. The pieces of you were scattered all over the floor like glass and every time you picked one up, you cut your hand and let the blood drip from your wound.

Yet, Clive held you. He held you close, he didn’t judge you, because he was crying alongside you. Cid meant so much to everyone, including him. You sat in his arms, and he didn’t leave until he knew he could leave you alone without worrying over you. His gentleness contrasted his roughened up look, he looked at you so softly and filled with fondness towards you. He was not afraid to help pick up the pieces, even if it meant cutting his hands in the process. 

He put you back together, and he didn’t complain about it. Not even once.

Your relationship with him bloomed. Your friendship with him became something new, something else. It was a dangerous love, because of who Clive Rosfield is - what he is. Yet, you never swayed. You never faltered.

No matter what, he’s Clive to you.

But in public, he is Cid and you are Cid’s advisor - like you always were. You two were professional on the outside, only sneaking away to shed those titles when you had enough time to. You didn’t get those chances a lot, but when you did he made sure to treat you like you were a deity. You’ve had lovers in the past, but they never made you feel like Clive made you feel. He made you feel loved, appreciated, cared for. You took care of him, but he always took care of you in return. He never simply just took, he always gave back.

No wonder you were anxious to get back to him; you’ve missed him dearly.

“We’re approaching the Hideaway!”

The ferryman’s voice pulls you from your thoughts. You open your eyes, quickly looking towards the horizons. Even in the blackest of nights, with the moon being your only light, you could see the shape of the broken down airship that you and everyone else called home. You could feel the smile creeping on your face.

“I’m home,” you whisper.

To who exactly? Not yourself, but to the man who was waiting for you.

You thank Obolus for the ride home as you step off of the boat, quickly rushing up the stairs. Most people had turned in for the night so there were only a few souls still haunting the Hideaway, and they offered their greetings to you and a cheery ‘welcome back, advisor!’, to which you returned with a smile.

You feel a little silly rushing through the halls, like an eager child, but you were happy to be home. 

You were happy about seeing him again.

You skid to a stop when you reached your destination. The Tub and Crown was a bit of a ghost town around this time, but you knew there were still a few people aside from Maeve haunting the area.

And you weren’t wrong. There sat Gav and Jill, with Torgal laying at Jill’s side. The hound lifts his head up at the sound of your footsteps, and once he lays his eyes on you he quickly stands up and rushes over towards you with a happy sounding bark. Since becoming Clive’s partner, Torgal never really left your side either. If he wasn’t with his owner or Jill, he was shuffling at your hip and following you around.

“Torgal!” You greet happily, kneeling on the ground to pet him and spoil him with some treats you carried on hand once you got close enough to where the two sat.

The two break from their conversation to see what Torgal was barking at, both of them greeting you with a smile on their faces.

“Well, if it ain’t our favorite advisor!” Gav slams his drink down. He looks you over, peering at the basket of gifts and requests at your side - all for a certain someone. “Talk about bein’ fashionably late. You weren���t kiddin’ when you said almost everyone in Valisthea was keepin’ you away.”

Jill nods her head in agreement, cupping her own chin to look over the heavy basket. “It sounds like you’ve had quite the adventure yourself.”

“Oh, it was the same ol’ stuff I deal with everyday. Just this time everyone in Valisthea caught wind that Cid’s advisor was in town and decided to make it their problem.” You rub Torgal’s belly, to which the hound accepts with happy pants. 

Speaking of the aforementioned man… You look to the side of Gav. No handsome brooding man there. 

You look to the side of Jill. No handsome brooding man there, either.

“Where is Clive?” You stop petting Torgal for a moment. “I figured he would be hanging out with you.”

Gav rolls his eyes a little, both good naturedly but also in some slight annoyance. “Went right to his chambers to work on things when we got back. He’s been in a bloody mood all week.” The scout holds up a finger. “Scowlin’ more than usual, more antsy than usual, tappin’ his foot while he waits at the door.” Every reason is met with a finger going up. “Not like everyone is afraid of him here, but it felt like we had to walk on eggshells around him. Even Charon was tryin’ not to rib him so hard.”

You blink a little, a brow raised. “Has the missions been going poorly or something?”

“Fuck no,” Gav shakes his head in response. “Everything’s been going smoothly. He’s just been actin’ like a shite.”

“He hasn’t been that bad,” counters Jill. Though, there’s a slight pause of hesitation from her. “But Gav isn’t wrong, he has been in a bit of a mood. More than likely, he was just worried about you.”

Worried about you? It’s not like you can’t handle yourself, and you’ve definitely been on missions longer than a week without him. You can’t help but scrunch your nose in thought - as always, when you’re thinking hard. Something was up with him, clearly.

Jill reads you like a book, with a smile on her face. “He’s still up, last time I checked. He’s burying his nose in reports as to distract himself. I’m sure he’ll appreciate the visit from you.” She stands up from her seat, as Torgal also rolls over and trots back to her side. “I’ve got some work to do with Tarja, but it was nice seeing you tonight.”

You nod your head, standing up and dusting yourself off. “Tarja, huh? Try not to stay up too late with her, alright?” You laugh a little when Shiva’s dominant huffs softly at your teasing, giving you just a gentle nudge in return. The two of you have gotten quite close over the years, and she was supportive of you and Clive. You felt like you could sigh in relief at that, that you didn’t have to worry about Clive’s childhood friend coming after you.

Gav finishes his drink, standing up as well. “I’m turnin’ in for the night.” He pats your shoulder with a grin on his face. “Make sure you give our leader a nice, warm welcome!”

He only grins harder seeing your cheeks turn red like a tomato at the implication of his words, and Jill’s soft laughter only makes you turn ever redder. Ah, there was your punishment for teasing Jill. The three of them make their way out of the alehouse, your eyes following them as you think about your conversation.

He’s in a mood.

What could he be in a mood about? You’ll have to do some digging, which isn’t hard - if there’s one thing Clive is with you that not even a sour mood could change, it’s that he was honest with you. It’s one of his best traits, really, that he’s open with his feelings and doesn’t usually shy away from speaking his mind about certain things. It’s not always easy, because there are some things he keeps to his chest, but for the most part communication is always important between you two. You pick up the basket of gifts and quickly make it to the end of the hall, where Clive’s chambers were.

And well, they were technically your chambers too, you think with the heat growing at your cheeks once more.

Shifting the basket a little, you use your free hand to knock on his chamber doors - once, twice and thrice.

“The door’s unlocked.” Clive’s low voice fills your ears. He already has you sighing and letting out a quivering breath. Founder, you’ve missed him.

You open the door with a smile on your face. You take in the sights before you - his room is as you left it, with the man himself seated at the desk. He seems to be burying himself in his usual reports and paperwork, just as Jill said. He didn’t even lift his head upon you entering.

“Guess who.” You smile, as you close the door behind you.

The sound of your voice has Clive immediately lift his head from his work. Cerulean eyes widened, the quill he was using drops from between his fingers and clattering on the desk.

“You’re back.” He sounds almost breathless. His chest raises a little as he breathes in and out, those cerulean eyes of him looking a lot more puppy-dog than usual.

This was different, indeed.

You walk towards him, placing the basket on the edge of the desk not covered in scattered papers. “Just got back. Gifts for you by the way, I was hunted down by weary souls who wanted to give their thanks to the so-called Cid the Outlaw.” You peer at him with a gentle, loving smile on your face.

He laughs a little in response, a rare smile forming on his own features. “No wonder you’re late. Sorry about that. I’ll be sure to pen my thanks to them soon.”

You shake your head at him. “Oh, don’t even start with the apologies. It’s my job to aid you, it’s kind of in the title.” A pause, shifting your feet a little as you hold your hands behind your back, shyly. “And… you know I’ll do anything for you, Clive.”

The words you whisper made him smile a little more. “You have perfect timing. I’m actually finishing up and I could use your advice.” He nudges his chair back a little, gently patting his thigh. 

For a moment, you stare with a tilted head, until you realize the implications. Your cheeks turn red.

Oh, he’s inviting you to sit there.

Oh, this was different, indeed.

But you don’t hesitate or falter at all. You take a seat on his thigh, leaning against him. One of his strong arms wraps themselves around your waist, pulling your body flushed against his. The position is a little embarrassing, you have to admit to yourself, but it feels warm, comforting - loving. It doesn’t take long for you to fall back into place, flipping through the letters and offering your advice and help to him.

It also doesn’t take long for Clive to stop paying attention. He nuzzles his face in the crook of your neck, breathing in your scent. His hot breath tickles your skin, a shiver running down your spine, as his fingers draw circles in your hip. His lips ghosts around your skin, pressing the gentlest of kisses to your neck as though he was whispering forbidden words in your skin. The quill from his fingers once again falls onto the desk, the reports forgotten about as his attention shifts to you. It’s hard to focus when he’s like this, so you decide to also forget about the many papers that littered his desktop.

“Jill and Gav told me you were in a mood.” You finally shift the conversation to what was really on your mind.

Clive only offers a grunt at first. “I’m not really in a mood.”

“Are you? You’re acting a little differently tonight.” Your fingers run through his hair, out of his eyes. “What’s on your mind, Clive? You know you can tell me.”

For a moment, he hesitates, but he knows he doesn’t like keeping secrets from you. You know he doesn’t like keeping secrets from you. He pulls you close to him, finally lifting his head to look you in the eye.

“I was fine when you left, but after a day, it felt like there was a pit in my stomach.” Clive runs his fingers up and down your hip. “Hunger, I suppose, is the best way to describe it.”

“Hunger?”

“I felt like I couldn’t focus with you gone. It was worse when I was here alone. Your scent was so much stronger than it usually was…” Clive recounts, averting his gaze for a moment from slight embarrassment, but he quickly focuses back on you. “The more days you were away, the more the hunger grew.”

“And the grouchier you got?” You tease him, though your tease was cut short and replaced with a slight yelp when he pinches your thigh with a huff.

“I wasn’t grouchy.” He counters, but his tone of voice sounds like he’s not exactly fighting the accusation.

You think about what he’s said, though. A hunger he felt for you. It started happening when you first left. He found that your scent was stronger than normal, even when you weren’t there. The symptoms sounded fairly familiar to you, and you hummed a little in thought as you ran your fingers through his hair. He groaned in delight at that, leaning into your touch and burying his face in the crook of your neck once more.

“Maybe you’re going through a rut?”

Clive lifts his head up. “A rut? I’m not a dog, love.”

“I mean, you travel with a dog, you constantly have a permanent puppy-dog eyes look on you and you turn into a dog-lizard thing. You’re kind of dog-adjacent.” You shrug cheekily, with an equally cheeky smile on your face. “But I’m serious about the last thing. We don’t know a whole lot about Ifrit. Maybe it’s going through some kind of rut or something and it’s affecting you. It is springtime, you know. Maybe nature is just setting course for Ifrit, too.”

It’s a pretty plausible theory. Clive stops to think about it for a brief moment, his breath tickling your neck once more as you sigh. Still, he says nothing at first and pauses his movements, until he looks right back up at you, his gaze meeting yours.

“You do realize the implications of your theory, right?” His pupils are blown out, more than usual. His strong, calloused hands grip your hips, shifting you a little so your lower half is flushed right against his.

Oh, there’s something pressing against you. Your body warms up, a heat and ache pooling right in your core. 

You didn’t realize how much you miss his body pressing against yours in such a sinful manner, until he rolls his hips against yours in want and need.

“I meant what I said,” you begin to say, your hands gripping to his shoulders as you slowly grind against the bulge in his pants, meeting his hips’ movements. You couldn’t help but grin a little when he moaned lowly, a sound just for you. “You know I’ll do anything for you, Clive.”

That’s all you’re able to get out at that point, because once you give him permission to do what he needs to do, Clive’s lips press against yours. It was only a sweet, soft kiss for a for seconds at best, because it quickly turned into something fierce, hungry. His tongue prods against your lips, wanting access into your warm mouth, and you gladly part your lips for him, because you need him as much as he needs you. Your tongue presses and swirls against his - it’s a small battle for dominance you never win, but you know he likes a small challenge. His own tongue presses and pins yours, until you ease away to let him completely take the reins.

The kiss is hot, wet, truly sinful. His hands grope everywhere he could, mostly squeezing at your thighs and hips with his fingers digging into your soft, plump flesh until they found their way to your rear. Squeezing and grabbing, groping in such a way that would make you flustered had you not been needy with your own arousal, he lifts you up as though you’re made of nothing but feathers, and truly you’re a little limp in his grasp. Clive’s strength always managed to make you feel dizzy, in a good way, and that doesn’t change here. He pushes his chair back, leaving the desk and the many reports he still has to do in the dust and makes his way towards his bed - your shared bed.

He only breaks the kiss to place you down on the mattress, gentle pants leaving both of your lips as a string of saliva connects the two of you. It breaks as he pulls away a little more, only to dive back in and press fluttering, wet kisses to your neck. Just like the kiss from before, it turns into something a little more hot and brutal; his lips suck at your skin to give it a bruising mark, teeth sinking into your flesh to draw just a little bit of blood from you. You groan hotly, your fingers gripping at his dark locks as your hips jolt upwards. Clive licks and kisses at the bruise and bite mark he left, panting gently against your flesh.

“You still taste so, so good.” Clive whispers into your skin, as his hands tug right at your shirt. He tries his best not to rip it, but unbuttoning your shirt during these kinds of acts was never exactly a cleanful tact, because you can already see a few buttons pop off just from him ripping it open. You chuckle a little; some things really don’t change.

Your chest is bared to him, and Clive wastes no time in pressing gentle kisses on naked skin. Trailing down, he kisses, licks and sucks on any skin he could latch himself onto and sinks teeth into your sink that leaves behind a delicious sting of pain, until finally reaching your left breast. Your breath hitches a little as his tongue swirls around the nub of your nipple, the hitched breath morphing into a needy moan once his lips latch around it to give it a gentle suck. His fingers tease and play with the unattended one, his attacks on you relentless and cruel - cruel in the sense he never slowed down.

“Clive.” you whine with a high-pitched voice, trying your best to roll your hips against his. But he doesn’t let you, pinning you down with just his pelvis. He lifts his head up, a smirk on his face.

“Just lay there and let me make you feel good,” whispers Clive. The way his low voice sounded so commanding, you can’t help but obey him. He was always like this, though; he was always chasing for your pleasure and never his own. He loved you, he wanted to make you feel good. It was never really fair! But at the same time, it truly was nice. He was so different from lovers you had in the past, who only cared about their own needs.

He attends to your other breast, giving it the same treatment - a lick here, a suck there, leaving a trail of bruises and bite marks in his wake. Once he’s satisfied, his lips start to trail downwards. He worships you like this, with his lips and his tongue, making sure there’s a patch of skin with his mark on it. His hands make work of your bottoms, pulling off the offending fabric until you were just left in your undergarments. You expect to feel his fingers on your skin so he can pull them down, but instead when you look down, you see Clive is using his teeth to pull them down.

Oh, this is different. Normally he takes his time with you; press himself against you, kiss you all over. Even as someone who prefers to please his partners more than please himself, it seems like tonight he’s impatient.

“Seems like someone’s been wanting this,” chuckles Clive as he spreads your lower lips a little to inspect you. “You’re already so soaked. All I did was tease you a little. Founder, you’re as depraved as I am.” His hot breath hits your wetness as he speaks, never once pressing his lips against you. You jolt a little at the feeling, a soft huff escaping your lips.

“You started this mess,” You tell him, your fingers already gripping in his hair. “You finish it.”

Another chuckle leaves his lips. Clive is impatient, though, and he wastes no time in pressing his lips right against your dripping entrance. His tongue is relentless here just as it was on your skin; it wastes no time in slipping inside of you, as he starts to drink your essence and fuck you with his tongue alone. It’s almost unbearable to you, in a good way - he drinks like a man starved.

Clive is so good to you, but he knows how to be so cruel, because he knows you enjoy it. He knows how easily you melt on his tongue, and he enjoys every single moment of it.

His fingers slip in as well, two of them pumping in and out as he moves upwards a little, finding your clit. The tip of his tongue flicks at it and you feel the smirk against your entrance as soon as you squeak and moan from his actions. He licks, sucks, his movements becoming faster with each second that passes. You’re trying so hard to swallow back your moans, but the moment his lips wrap around your clit and give it a hard suck, you can’t control your volume anymore. It echoes off of the walls, embarrassingly so, but your mind is so fogged that you don’t seem to care like you usually would.

The knot in your lower stomach painfully tightens, you can feel yourself reaching your peak as Clive continues to tease your clit and thrust his fingers in and out of you. Just as you’re about to find your release, though, he abruptly stops. He pulls himself off of you, his fingers are coated with your essence.

“Clive–” You begin to whine, almost in pain. You stop yourself short when you watch him lick his fingers clean - slowly, like he’s putting on a show for you. Once they’re clean, he looks at you as though he’s a predator who has caught prey in his trap. The slight darkness of the room makes his cerulean eyes have a glow to them. The knot in your stomach returns.

He intends to devour you, his way. He’s going to drag this out, until you’re begging and crying for release.

Clive crawls back onto the bed, his hands moving to undo all of the leathers and fabric of his clothing, until he’s as bare as you are. His cloak and shirt go first, dropping onto the ground until his chest is revealed to you. Greagor, you could probably write several missives about Clive’s chest and muscles, but despite what your lover may say, you’re not that depraved. You keep all of those thoughts to yourself, like a good advisor should. Your eyes drift down with his hands, watching as they fumble a little with his belt, stifling a laugh from how needy and excited he is.

You stop laughing once he finally does undo his belt and pull his pants down, revealing his hard cock to you. You’ve seen it before, it’s been inside of you multiple times now, but you still hitch your breath when you see it. The gods certainly graced Clive with something to brag about, for certain. 

If you ever do meet Ultima maybe you should thank him for giving his vessel something that would make you cross your eyes and forget your own name, but something tells you a narcissistic god obsessed with the purity of his vessel may not appreciate the sonnets a mere mortal would write about said vessel’s cock.

Pre-cum dribbles at the tip, his fingers coated in a mix of his saliva and your juices as he uses it to his advantage to stroke himself a little, to really give you a show now. You hear yourself panting, your chest heaving up and down as you watch the sinful sight before you.

“Enjoying yourself?” Clive smirks, smugness in his voice.

You huff a little in response. “I’ll only enjoy myself when you actually fuck me instead of showing off, Rosfield.”

He laughs a little, leaning down to kiss your forehead sweetly. “As my faithful advisor commands.”

You have no time to respond, as he quickly flips you so you’re on your stomach, face slightly pressed against the pillow beneath you. He presses his front against your back, the tip of his cock pressing against your wet folds teasingly. Your needy whine and rear thrusting back to try and get him inside of you earns a laugh from him, but thankfully he’s not intensely cruel tonight. He presses inside of you, though it’s not as slow as he normally is. Normally he takes his time with you, but in just seconds he’s got his entire length inside of you. You feel the way his body shudders against your back, your soaked walls clenching around him. A sigh passes your lips, morphing into a moan. 

You’ve missed this. You’ve missed him.

His thrusts are slow at first, but it doesn’t take him long for him to pick up his speed. His hips meet your backside, a wonderful symphony of skin slapping against each other fills the room, loud enough to make your ears burn with embarrassment. You bury your face in the pillow to muffle your moans. A hand wraps itself around the back of your neck, though, to pull you up towards its owner. Clive’s heavy breath is in your ear now, worsening your arousal.

“Don’t hide your voice from me,” pants Clive, sharp teeth nibbling at your earlobe. “I want to hear you.”

And you find that you can’t deny him. Your moans are loud, needy, your knuckles turning white from how roughly you’re gripping the sheets to the point where they might tear. His other hand snakes down your stomach, reaching your lower half, and his fingers make work on your clit. It’s a slow rub, his thrusts contrasting the gentleness of his fingers. You can feel yourself reaching your peak, you can feel the knot in your stomach tightening and tightening until–

Until he pulls right out of you.

You whine, loudly, at the loss. Your walls clench at nothing, and you try to thrust yourself back towards him, but Clive doesn’t let you do that. Instead, he flips you both again - him on his back and you sitting on his lap. He looks up at you with a smile, his hand running up and down your stomach once more.

“I know exactly what you like.” The outlaw says, pulling you forward so his cock rests right against your stomach. You feel how hot it is, how hard it is, and how it throbs and pulsates against your skin. “Show me how much you want to cum.”

Oh, he’s definitely dragging this out as long as he can. You can’t exactly blame him, you don’t want this to end either. 

But you also really need to reach your peak, otherwise you may burn the whole Hideaway down.

Your wobbly legs manage to hold yourself up, slowly moving down on him. Your whole body shudders as his cock fills you up again, the tip pressing against the deepest parts of your inside. You move up and down on his length, moans and pants spilling from your lips as you decide to not hide your voice any longer - because he wants to hear you. And you can’t deny him, because you don’t want to deny him.

“Founder, your voice alone drives me mad.” Clive growls, his hand squeezing your thigh as he thrusts upwards to meet your own movements. “Tried to focus on my work, tried to put you out of my head for days, but I just couldn’t. I couldn’t stop thinking about how much I needed you blissed out on my cock–”

He’s rambling, his voice low and rough, and you love every second of it. Clive’s not much of a talker, but when he is, he makes you feel so depraved for him. Your legs were starting to shake and feel weak already, but you push yourself - you push yourself because you want this. Because you need this from him, just as much as he needed this from you.

“Clive,” you chant his name like a prayer, over and over again. You must sound delirious.

But Clive clearly doesn’t seem to mind, the way his back arches a little just from the sound of your sweet voice. It’s a powerful feeling, you realize, having such a powerful man like him weak at you - a mere mortal, a bearer but not a Dominant. Yet, it’s a good reminder that beneath everything, Clive is a mortal man as well.

“Can you feel me, sweetheart?” He places his hand on your lower stomach, feeling the way it bulges a little from the sheer size of him. You look down, shuddering at the sight as he continues to thrust upwards, your eyes following how the bulge disappears then reappears. “You take me so fucking well. It’s like you were made for me, the way you shake your hips like a woman at the Veil.”

You can’t respond, any time you try to all that fumbles from your lips are moans and whines of pure pleasure.

“I can get so deep into you like this,” groans Clive, his other hand grasping at your hip. “All the way into you. Fuck, I could breed you right here. I could make you swell with my child.”

Oh, that’s different.

And it’s clearly a good different, the way your body responds. Your walls clench around him, as if your body had a mind of its own, as if your body was begging for the man to breed you. He notices too, and he licks his lips and smirks once he realizes you may enjoy the idea as he did.

“You would like that, wouldn’t you?” Another thrust upwards. His thrusts are getting sloppier and rougher, but Greagor does it feel so good. “I wouldn’t be able to control myself, seeing you like that. I’d fuck you every single day–”

You moan, so lecherously. “Clive, fuck, I’m going to cum!”

Both hands grab at your hips, fingers digging and sinking into your skin so hard you know there’s going to be some bruising there in the morning. But you don’t care. All you care about is the man underneath you, and chasing after your own release. Clive makes you move faster onto him, a growl rumbling from his throat.

“Go on, let yourself go.”

You were already so overstimulated from the foreplay from before, and the way his cock brushes against your sweet spots and bashes against the entrance to your womb, you can’t help it. Your walls tighten around him, and you let yourself go.

Another growl rumbles from his throat, this time he pulls you right down onto him, hard. It doesn’t take him long to follow you into a blissful climax, his hot seed pouring into you and flooding your insides. It’s a lot, more than usual, to the point where it floods out from your entrance and onto him.

You collapse onto him, and he instantly takes you in his arms. Slowly, he flips your positions again, just so he can press himself deeper into you. Thank the Founder, because your legs were about to give out.

A moment passes, until he finally pulls himself out from you. His blown out pupils watch as his seed overflows from you, dripping onto the sheets beneath you. He shudders at the sight, and you can’t help but shudder as well.

You’re fading in and out of existence, but when you mostly come to, Clive has wiped you and him down, cleaning you up and gently pressing kisses against any marks he’s left on you. The sheets will unfortunately have to wait until tomorrow. Frankly, you could give less of a shit about that.

The outlaw slumps himself against you, pulling you into his arms. You both lay there in a comfortable silence, as he buries his face in the crook of your neck.

“Thank you.” His voice trembles, a little embarrassed - that’s the Clive you know. “I’ll, uh, make sure Tarja prepares a herbal tea for you tomorrow, so that you don’t…” He trails off, hiding his face against your neck even more now.

You chuckle, feeling the hotness of his cheeks against your skin. “Feeling better?”

“Yes,” answers the male as he lifts his head up with a smile. “Much better. You always seem to know how to cure my worries and needs.”

“What can I say? I know my boss pretty well.”

He laughs, and your heart feels so warm, so in love with the man before you. Clive leans in, pressing his lips against yours to share a sweet, innocent kiss that contrasts the sinful act you both just partook in. And you kiss him back, wrapping your arms around him. You only stop when you feel something hard rub against your thigh, pulling back to see he was still pretty aroused. He’s a little sheepish at that, but he looks at you in want, in need - and love, as always.

“I don’t think one time is going to be enough for you, big guy.”

A sheepish laugh falls from his lips. “I don’t think so either. I might need a few more rounds. That is, if my faithful advisor is up to it.” 

He’s challenging you, clearly. The smirk on his face tells you all you need to know. You smirk back, bucking your hips against his to accept.

“Only if you do most of the work.” You tell him, a leg going in to wrap itself around his waist. “You made me weak in my knees, Lord Rosfield. A gentleman should take some responsibility for his actions.”

His low chuckle reaches your ears, as he leans in to press his forehead against yours. It’s a tender action, one that definitely makes you feel weak in the knees - if you hadn’t already. It doesn’t take him long to reenter you, and you can’t hide the shudder of your slightly overstimulated body. 

But you want everything he has to offer, the good and the bad of Clive Rosfield, and he’ll give it to you. 

Because he wants everything you have to offer, the good and the bad of his faithful advisor, in return.

“As you wish, my love.”

He claims your lips. The night goes on.

“Somethin’ seems to be on your mind.”

Jill looks towards the source of the voice. Gav stands next to her, arms crossed as he meets her gaze with a raised brow. The Dominant says nothing to him, only slowly returning her gaze to where she once was looking. Gav’s line of sight follows hers, landing right on the scene that was unfolding before them.

“Clive, I’m trying to do work!”

Hideaway’s poor advisor was currently trying to shake an overgrown Cid the Outlaw off of them, who has currently draped himself over you. It had been a single day since you had returned from your trip and needless to say, Clive was acting as though you had been gone for years. Arms wrapped around your waist, pulling your body flush against yours.

“Nothing is stopping you from doing your work,” is all Clive remarks with, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

“Except for a fucking overgrown dog!”

Gav whistles at the sight before him. “Someone seems to be in a good mood.”

“Indeed,” nods Jill, her gaze never leaving the both of you. Right now you were trying to walk away, which resulted in you basically having to drag the second Eikon of fire around because he refused to let himself off of you. “But, I can’t help but wonder if this is worse than the mood he was in before.”

The scout shrugs his shoulders. “Our advisor has dealt with worse from him. And we don’t have to deal with him slobberin’ all over us, so I’d say a good mood is better than nothin’.”

The woman says nothing. She knows it’s going to be a few days before Clive will return to his normal self, if your theory about why he’s been moody all week rings true. Such things don’t end with a simple, pleasurable night. You’ll be fine, she knows that, so she’s not too worried that you won’t be able to handle Clive Rosfield.

It’s in your job description, after all.

( she’ll still pray to metia for you, at the very least, and hope you come out unscathed. )

[starres-stuff]

Day 2- Horizon FFXIV Write 2024

Horizon: The limit of a person's mental perception, experience, or interest.

“A gil for your thoughts” 

The voice had come out of nowhere shaking Dimitri from his trancelike state and turning his head where he found the emerald green eyes of his mentor, Xixa, staring back at him. 

“I didn't even notice your approach” The Duskwight offered a warm smile. Xixa was very skilled at this, even when the days were dark and dismal as they had been lately. 

“He thinks of you too, you know, Sonny.” Xixa patted his forearm and then let her hand rest on it while she kept talking. “I know why he is mad at you, a little bit torn on it since I don't think it is a reason to stay mad for a Moon, but at the same time if I had a life like he has I'd have been mad too.” 

Dimitri sighed softly, eyes lingering on the Viera's face, he always wondered how old she was, she certainly didn't look any older than her mid-twenties but the way she spoke made it sound like she had lived for centuries. “I don't think this place is for us anymore and I don't just mean the Shroud. I mean Eorzea in general.” 

Xixa fought to show no emotion regarding this. She enjoyed having both men around, they had been through a lot together, and the lump in her throat reminded her she cared a bit too much about both of them these days. “There is still tomorrow, Sonny. When all hope for today has run out, and we think there is nothing left. We just have to remind ourselves that tomorrow is a new day and we can try again. Just got to believe in what you want and who you love. They wouldn't be there if they didn't still feel the same for you.” 

Dimitri raked a nervous hand through his hair then gazed out towards the meadow full of flowers she had found him sitting near. His first intention was to come here to paint the beauty of a now encroaching Shroud fall but as soon as he had his easel set up and his paints mixed he found himself wishing Laurent was there to share it with him. 

“I keep having dreams of leaving this place Xixa. There is nothing left here, everyone I knew is gone. Vi has her life to live and I find myself lonely for company and friends. It is just not the same anymore, I hardly know anyone besides Qih’a but his head is in his own set of clouds.” biting his lower lip he looked towards the ground, he felt awful thinking the way he was now.

“There's always hope on the horizon. Sometimes we can't see it, sometimes we think it's over and it's not. The thing is we have to learn to love without expectations. We can put it out into the world, let it be there but people aren't content with that. They want someone to pick it up and then send it back. When all that matters is that we put ourselves out there, to begin with, we tried to connect and it's a start.” from the basket she had been carrying with her she pulled out a Pixie Apple, its bright red and waxy skin catching the light as she held it out to him; her features filled with understanding and compassion. It was his favorite fruit and she knew it too. 

“I tell him I love him but he doesn't say it back.” The forlorn notes in his voice were as strong as they were heartbreaking, but he reached for the offered apple, picking it gently from Xixa’s hand and holding it in his own. “I don't know if we will make it through this time, I fucked up.” 

A tsk noise came from the Viera then and her free hand flicked a finger or two at his long ear. “Oh hush with that. It is a matter of perception. He comes home to you every day, words are words, Dimitri. I can spin you a pile of Chocobo shit in a single breath and mean none of it. He still loves you but you need to listen with your damn heart and soul instead of your ears. He speaks to you all the time, even if it is just handing you an apple like I just did. It's your favorite, those are the things you want to hear, which means someone paid attention to the little things.”

It was these words Xixa would leave him with this day for soon after she spoke them, she squeezed his arm and kissed his cheek then departed the meadow to continue with her day, and as the Sharlayan found himself focusing on her unsolicited advice and suddenly finding an urge to fill the canvas in front of him with his art. 

[thetempleofthemasaigoddess]

Planning on seducing Elrond and it not going exactly as you had planned would involve...

Elrond x reader. This is a modern!AU.

Dedicated to the lovely @montyc !! Thank you so much for your support!!

*****

🧝 You and Elrond meet on the job, since you both work for Gil-Galad, an important businessman; Elrond is his personal assistant and speechwriter, while you work in the marketing department.

🧝 You soon find out you take the same train to go to work and return home. You don't actively decide to ride together, waiting for each other at the station and sitting together, it just happens, and soon a friendship develops between the two of you.

🧝You like Elrond a lot. Clever, kind, humble and hard-working, focused on his work and capable to carry out a conversation and make you laugh the rest of the time, he is exactly the type of person you could appreciate; you rarely interact while in the office, but when it happens you work so well together that Gil-Galad assigns the two of you on a new project to manage together. Elrond also clearly appreciates you since, while he is friendly with most colleagues, you are the first real friend he makes at the office, and he often proposes to hang out in your free time.

🧝Life is not always easy for Elrond. While the company has strict rules against workplace bullying and a couple of employees have already been dismissed for mobbing, your friend is harassed by colleagues and superiors, who either resent his close relationship with Gil-Galad or belittle him for his Half-Elven origins; there have been a couple of very unpleasant episodes that he never reported to your boss or the HR Department despite the urging of his friends, inclunding you.

🧝Also, there are moments -days, sometimes even weeks- in which his usual sunny demeanor fades into melancholy and sadness, and he withdraws in himself, spending days at a time isolating in his office or at home; more than once you offer your help, your time and your support, to comfort him in whatever problem he is dealing with but, while grateful, he remains tight-lipped about his troubles, determined to keep them for himself.

🧝You care for him; a lot. When he is sad, worried or mistreated, you know there is nothing you would not do to see him smile again; in any case, he is the best company you could wish for, and when you are with him, even if you are just sharing a coffee in your living room or sitting quietly next to each other on the train, you feel happy, relaxed, safe, and you wish those moments would never end.

🧝Even through you think the world of him, it takes you a while to realize your feelings go beyond mere friendship; you have always known Elrond is handsome, with his elegant features, sunny smile and deep, warm brown eyes, but at some point you realize your heart beats twice as fast when he takes your hand to help you (he is such a gentleman!) climb down a ladder or that the flush on your face is due to a specific reason that time that you accidentally enter his office while he is changing his shirt after an accident with a cup of coffee...

🧝You have a crush on your friend; maybe even something more than that, you reflect one night when sleep has eluded you and you spend a whole hour staring at the ceiling, lost in your thoughts, and while you already consider yourself lucky to be his friend, you wish your relationship would develop beyond that.

🧝The problem is, you have no idea whether he shares your feelings or not; Elrond is an extremely private person, and while you know for sure he is single, you have no idea whether his heart beats for someone in particular. If you confessed your... affection, and you found it is not reciprocated, it could be the end of your friendship, and that you want to avoid at all cost.

🧝So you decide to... test the waters, trying to make your affection known to see whether Elrond reciprocates and at the same time acting with enough discretion to save you both the embarrassment if he had to let you down. You take special care in your appearance when you hang out, make sure you spend time together alone and not with other friends, especially in the privacy of your home or his, and take every opportunity to touch him -obviously not in a way that would make him uncomfortable; an hand on his arm to get his attention, your thigh lightly pressed against his when you sit side by side on the train, your usual hugs lasting just a second more and your kisses slightly moving from his cheeks towards his mouth- hoping to elicit a physical reaction before an emotional one.

🧝It doesn't work; not in the slightest.

🧝The problem is, your relationship with Elrond is already close, warm and affectionate; you already spend so much time together, mainly without the company of other friends, that there is not much more that you can do to in that regard without potentially resulting intrusive, and your friend is physically affectionate by his nature, as well as always complimenting you on the way you look or dress, which makes it difficult to understand whether those gestures and words are given out of friendship or something else.

🧝So, you decide to step your game up. One night when you have decided to visit a club together, you wear a particularly... interesting dress, showing more of your cleavage and legs than you normally would, and later, when you sit on his sofa to watch a movie, you press yourself against his side, almost sitting on his lap. Still, it doesn't work; Elrond compliments your dress, like he has done a thousand times before, and while you sit together, he simply asks if you are comfortable or want a pillow to put behind your back. Damn him! How can such a clever person be so clueless?

🧝Of course it is also possible that he knows perfectly what you are up to, and ignores your advances because he is not interested in you like that and is trying to let you down as gently as he can. It could be, you admit to yourself, since you have been friends for three years now and he has never shown to want more than friendship from you, but you still suspect... or maybe it is just wishful thinking, who knows... that he simply hasn't realized what you are doing. Which can only mean one thing...

🧝You have to be even more direct. You have tried dressing up to impress him; now you will do the opposite.

🧝Gil-Galad is away on an important business trip, and while Elrond usually leaves with him in his role of the CEO's personal assistant, this time he has been left home to run the company while Gil-Galad is away, a choice that has displeased many higher-ups and has made you enormously proud of your friend. Elrond has never been so busy, but he is doing a great job, even at the expense of his personal time. He deserves to be rewarded... and you are only to happy to take the matters in your own hands.

🧝The next day at work you barely see Elrond, who had to come to work early to take care of his new responsabilities, and who remains after everyone has left after dark. You, inspired by your friend's dedication to his duties, make sure to complete your work, then you wait for the building to be empty except for you.

🧝You have bought some very special lingerie, in a color Elrond once told you looks particularly good on you; your hands tremble as you put it on in the ladies' restroom, paired with a pair of high heels, then you fix your hair and make up. You look at your reflection in the mirror and yes, you tell yourself, you look really nice, and if Elrond doesn't want you tonight, he never will.

🧝The thought makes your legs shake as you cross the corridors, dark and empty, having covered yourself with a long coat; Elrond's office -he didn't want to occupy Gil-Galad's while he is away, even if it means having to go back and forth between the two rooms to check the CEO's mail and files; he is so humble, you have thought, your heart full of love and pride- is on the second floor, the light inside visible through the colored glass walls. You take a deep breath, push the door open, and enter.

🧝"Hello, Elrond; would you like some company?" you ask, in what you hope is a sensual voice -but maybe it is just corny- standing in front of his desk; you open the coat, revealing the lingerie you are wearing, and let it fall on the floor. You look at him, waiting for his reaction and hoping it is the right one... and then you freeze as you realize you have come in the least opportune moment.

🧝Elrond is crying. Sitting behind his desk, his back bent as if wishing to offer as small a target as possible to an attacker; his shirt, his hands and face and even his hair are dirty with what seems to be green paint, and your poor friend is shaking as he cries, holding something against his chest.

🧝He is so lost in his own pain that he didn't hear you come in, and when he realizes you are standing there, taken aback and not knowing what to do, he gasps, and then he looks at you, goggle-eyed. "Oh, you are here, I didn't hear... what are you wearing?! Why are you half-naked?!"

🧝"I wanted to surprise you, obviously! And make my intentions clear, since you appear to be blind to what I feel!" you cry, and seeing him blush is quite satisfactory, but whatever intention you had for tonight disappears from you mind a second later: you have no idea what has happened, but your friend clearly needs help and care.

🧝"What is wrong? Are you all right? Why are you covered in paint?" you ask as you hastily put your coat back on and walk to him; he shakes his head as he tries not to look at you, but then he sighs, too exhausted and pained to focus on your state of undress.

🧝Today is the anniversary of his brother's death. Elrond has lost him when the two twins were barely more than children, and while many years have passed since then he has, nor he could, never overcome the loss of the person who was closest to him, as well as the death of his parents, also untimely. Your poor friend has lost his entire family when he was still a boy, and that grief has remained his constant companion ever since, especially in the days that remind him of his solitude the most, like the festivities and the anniversary of his relatives' deaths. This is way he sometimes appears melancholic without an apparent reason, and even though he is generally more than happy and satisfied with his life; still, today he couldn't stop thinking about Elros, his beloved little brother, and he was so tired and stressed for his already demanding job and the added responsibilities due to Gil-Galad's absence. Moreover, those idiot colleagues who disapproved of the CEO's high regard for his assistant decided to pull a cruel prank on him.

🧝"I had gone to Gil-Galad's office to check some files, and returning I found the door ajar; I didn't think much of it, even though I always make sure to close it when I leave, but then... they had placed a bucket full of green paint above the door, and when I closed it, the bucket fell and its content spilled all over me. This shirt was new, and I am so tired and I have so many things to do, then I started thinking about Elros again, and... and..."

🧝It is too much, you realize as your heart fills with so much pity it could break it, too much even for a clever and resilient Elf like him; he could bear to do the CEO's job as well as his own, or face his colleagues' bullying, or mourn his family and withstand the solitude and the grief stemming from it... but not all three of those things together. No one could.

🧝"It is all right; cry if you want, if it makes you feel better." you whisper as you hug him, caressing his hair as you hold him trying to comfort him; you are still half-naked, the coat only partially covering your body, but neither of you pays any attention to it "My poor friend... if only I knew you were suffering so much. Why didn't you tell me? I could have helped you..."

🧝Elrond delicately points out that actually you couldn't, since his family is lost forever and you don't have the expertise to help him carry out Gil-Galad's duties. He is sorry you had to see him like this, he had a... a moment of weakness, but he is all right, he can go back to work...

🧝 "That is out of the question; you cannot work properly in the state you are in, especially not today, and especially not after what those idiots have done to you. You need to go home and rest; come on, I will come with you." you decide; this is definitely not how you had imagined, not to mention hoped, your night would go, but now you need to take care of your friend, and this comes before everything else... including the embarrassment you will feel yourself blush with as soon as you won't have anything more important to focus on. "Come on. I need five minutes to put my clothes back on; I'll see you at the door."

🧝 Usually you are not so assertive, and maybe because of this, or maybe just because he is too tired, Elrond half-heartedly tries to protest he has too much to do to call it a night, but then he relents. The thing he was holding to his chest as he cried is the framed photo of his family, taken during the last birthday party he ad his brother celebrated with their parents; he kisses it reverently before putting it back in its place on the desk, and does his best to remove the green paint at least from his hands and face.

🧝 Five minutes later, fully dressed once more, you join him at the door. There is no awkwardness between the two of you, only compassion and gratitude; Elrond doesn't want the people you would meet on the train to see him in his state, so you call a cab and ask to be driven to his apartment.

🧝 "I will wait for you, shall I?" you propose once you have closed the door behind you "And I will prepare some tea while you take a shower, you look like you need it." Elrond's smile is weak but grateful, and as you take your coat off you see his eyes drift along your body, as if he is remembering what you had meant to offer him; he says nothing -because he is not interested? Or simply because he is waiting for the right moment?- but his look is enough to make you blush, maybe because in it you see what you want to see, or maybe because after being so brazen at the office, now you can't help feeling naked and defenseless, your feelings as exposed and easy to read as your body was, an hour ago.

🧝 When Elrond returns, wearing clean clothes and having gotten rid of that blasted paint, you welcome in his own kitchen with a smile and a cup of his favorite tea. You have just made a pot of it, and you drink it together, sitting side by side as you have done a thousand time already, and you don't need to tell him how sorry you are for everything he is dealing with, the mobbing and the pressure and the mourning for his family: he knows already, because he knows you, and he has never been so grateful as he is now.

🧝"Do you want me to leave?" you ask softly in the end, instinctively taking his hand in yours "When I am sad I like to have my friends close, but if you'd rather be alone to relax..." Elrond shakes his head; usually he does prefer to be alone when he's dealing with something important or dramatic -or both- but this is different... you are different, and he has known within three days of meeting you. "To be honest... I'd really like for you to stay. I don't think I can be good company and I want to go to bed early, since tomorrow I'll have to go back to work, but..." "But you don't want to be alone?" "Being alone would be fine; but being with you would be even better."

🧝You obviously accept. You order a pizza at Elrond's favourite restaurant, and you eat it together in front of the TV, paying little attention to the movie on the screen but enjoying each other's company as you have always done. Elrond wraps his arm around your waist, and you rest your cheek against his shoulder; there is nothing romantic about those gestures, but they speak of the affection and the trust between you, the way you just need to be together to feel comfortable and safe and happy, and you will treasure it as long as you live.

🧝"You need to talk to Gil-Galad." you tell him in the end; you know the last thing he wants to talk or even think about are the reasons for his moment of desperation just three hours ago, but you know that if he doesn't do something to change things, his situation will never improve "It was not fair of him to delegate all his work to you, since you are already so busy with yours. I know you are the person he trusts the most, and you should be proud of it; but this doesn't mean he can double your workload and not think about the consequences. Your mental health matters as well, and there is no shame in asking for help." Elrond nods, too tired to argue, and promises that the next time he will have to substitute the CEO, he will ask Gil-Galad to assign someone to work with him, to share the added workload.

🧝"And, you'll have to report the idiots who pulled that prank on you." you add, still munching your pizza, and Elrond sighs; he clearly would like to relax and enjoy his dinner and your company, rather than discussing such an unpleasant matter. "Can't we talk about it another time?" "I am sorry, we have to; and don't pretend you wouldn't insist as well, if I were the bullied one. Because this is bullying, not just pranks or friends joking around; you are continuously insulted, demeaned and harassed by your colleagues, and this cannot go on. The longer you do nothing, the crueler they will get. You need to tell Gil-Galad, and the HR; or I swear I will."

🧝 Your friend sighs, clearly unhappy at the thought of you getting involved in something he would like to forget; but he has to realize you are right, because "I'll think about it, I promise." he says in the end, and you are satisfied, because unlike a thousand other people he really means those words when he says them; his free hand finds yours, and for the first time since you met, you perceive his shyness as he looks at you "Now... I could call a cab for you, but..."

🧝You smile. Eru, you love him so much. "But?" "But, I would really appreciate if you stayed the night. With me. In my bed. I know it wouldn't be proper, but it would really be... of comfort to me, and..."

🧝 Those are the words you needed to hear. "Elrond?" "Yes?" "Stop talking. Do you have a shirt and a pair of shorts I could borrow?"

🧝 And so you find yourself sleeping, and only that, in your friend's double bed, wearing his clothes, after using a new toothbrush in his bathroom. You happily snuggle under the covers, and a similar joy is clear in Elrond's smile as he snakes an arm around you, to keep you close. As deep and close the friendship between the two of you has been, this is new, and beautiful because of it; to pass your fingers in his hair, still damp after the shower, to feel the heat of his body as you snuggle against him, to hear the strong, peaceful beating of his heart as you rest your cheek against his chest.

🧝 You smile in the darkness of the cozy room, and Elrond should not be able to see it, but he does, and answers with a smile of his own as he kisses your forehead. "I know this is not the night you had hoped for..." "Oh? You know?" "Well... not to be presumptuous, but I think I can make an educated guess. And I am sorry I cannot... give you what you wanted, since I am exhausted; but I am so happy you came."

🧝 You smile again as you turn on one side to look at him. Since I am exhausted, he said, which means that he would have welcomed your visit the way you had hoped, had he been less tired; this bodes well for you and the future you had hoped, but there will be time to think about that, time to talk and discuss and make plans. Now you only want to enjoy this moment, this intimacy with the Elf who has captured your heart, and in the meanwhile, make sure he is all right. "I wish you could see yourself the way I see you." you whisper as you cradle his smooth cheek in your hand "So clever, and loyal, and hard-working, and kind; I wish you would see how much respect you deserve, and that your origins are nothing to be ashamed of, quite the opposite..."

🧝 "I am not ashamed of my origins, and of my parents; I could never. And because of that, I am not touched by offenses and insults." You tell him you are glad to hear that, but that his moral superiority does not give his colleagues the right to keep harassing him, especially when the abuse turns physical; that night has been the last episode of a long list, and you wouldn't be surprised to discover that your friend has been shoved or tripped more than once.

🧝"You need to tell Gil-Galad, Elrond; about that, and about the need to share your responsibilities with someone else when he is away. Please, promise me you will." He huffs, but there is affection in his eyes, that you can see despite the darkness, not contrariety. "All right; I promise. Can we sleep now?"

🧝 The feeling of the soft sheets against your skin is pleasant, but not as pleasant as the one of Elrond, safe and content and in peace once again, holding you in his arms and kissing your hair as you both wait for sleep to claim you, your hand caressing his chest to listen to the beat of his heart.

*****

🧝 The other half of the bed is empty when you wake up the next morning, the memory of body heat on the sheet the only proof you haven't slept alone. For a moment you stare at that emptiness, more saddened and disappointed than any other time something like this has happened in the past, but then you realize this is different, because this is not your apartment or an hotel room found for a specific purpose, but his bed, and that Elrond has gotten up before you doesn't mean that he wants to forget everything that has happened... or not happened, since he was so tired. But you are happy nonetheless.

🧝 You visit the bathroom next to the bedroom, cleaner and tidier than what you could expect from a five star hotel, brushing your teeth and making a half-hearthed attempt to fix your hair. Then you move to the kitchen, where you are welcomed by the delicious smell of bacon, as well as Elrond's smile; he's standing in front of the stovetop, barefooted and handsome enough to leave you breathless, looking at you above his shoulder.

🧝You quietly exchange your hellos, and he confesses that last night he has slept better than he has in a long time, and for the first time in weeks he feels well-rested and ready to start a new day. He insists on preparing breakfast by himself, while you wait sitting at the table. You share a look, but neither he nor you feel the need to talk until he serves you a plate with a delicious breakfast, and a cup of coffee prepared exactly as you like it. "I just wanted to say... about what you did last night..."

🧝 "What did I do?" you ask, displaying your most perplexed impression.

🧝"Please, do not make fun of me. I just wanted to say... I am flattered. And I know I ruined the moment -no, no, it's ok- but if you would give me a second opportunity... I have cared for you for a long time, and I never thought you would think about me as something more than a friend, but I would like to show you... how important you are..."

🧝Your friend is even more adorable when blushing and stammering, but in the end you can't help putting him out of his misery. "Elrond." you start covering the hand resting on the table with yours "I have been flirting with you for four months and last week I spent a week's wage on a dress to impress you. Believe me, you are also very important to me. And as much as I care for your well-being and your mental health, it would be a complete lie if I said I only see you as a friend. So if you want to ask me out please do, because I won't refuse."

🧝Elrond's happy and slightly bashful face is the most beautiful thing you have ever seen; he quietly proposes to go out tonight, after he has left the office at the end of his normal working hours instead of staying so late it is almost early, to have dinner and maybe later go dancing. Of course, if you'd rather do something else...

🧝"I'd love that." you quickly reassure him; it is a new side of his personality you are discovering, awkward and shy when the person in front of him is no longer just a friend, but you quite like it, like you like everything about him "Now I better eat, and then go home to change. Do you mind? It smells delicious."

🧝Elrond sits next to you, in front of the second plate he brought; you feel his leg touching yours under the table, and you smile, and he smiles back, and neither feels the need to talk in the room bathed in the red-yellow early morning light.

Tagging @starlady66 and @elvenenby!

[sweettifalockhart-archived]

Birthdays were always a chore... Whenever the events would rear their ugly heads Cloud would find himself stumped on what would make a good gift.

'It's the thought that counts' was what he was always told... But what good even was that advice when he lacked the basic capability to think at all?

It makes him feel a bit stupid...

So after drawing a series of blanks, zoning out for minutes at a time to the point where the rest of the team were throwing concerned looks in his general direction, and desperately scrabbling for just one idea, a brilliant one hits him like a blow to the head.

Cloud gifts her a voucher; a little scrap of paper which states simply:

"Good for one free sparring session. No swords allowed~"

He just hopes, when Tifa makes good on this offer for a casual duel in hand-to-hand combat, that she gives him a bit of time to mentally prepare himself to have his own ass handed to him.

Birthdays are joyous moments; promised milestones tucked away in the mundane corners of life. Amidst the discord, smoke and blood, a day to celebrate life is always welcomed, and Tifa usually strives for a big party. Hearty meals and rich cakes, balloons and banners across weathered walls --Tifa would go the whole nine yards for anyone's birthday... 'cept her own.

Even so, there are small details here and there. A simple posy delivered by a regular, handmade cards designed by orphans' hands, flowers folded from old newspapers... Gifts, crafted by thought and care, and given by those that have very little, are more than enough for Tifa.

Her favourite moment of any birthday though; is when she is gifted with the presence of her friends and well-wishes rooted in love and care. Tonight is no exception. Ale flows freely and laughter chimes through the homely bar. Glasses clink in greeting and gifts are exchanged. A new pair of gloves, crafted with durable leather and steel. A new hair-tie made by Marlene's little hands. Hells, even a voucher to Madam M's.

She'll never admit it, but Tifa has been looking forward to what Cloud might have prepared. He wouldn't have given her something... predictable, for sure. He didn't seem like the type to run off and buy something with a handful of gil, either. She'd be happy with a smile.

Curious eyes linger on worn paper, fraying at the edges. The words were written hastily, but still a smile grows on blushing lips. "You'd take me on?" She giggles, the wine's touch melting away iron fences within. Folding the paper neatly and tucking it away in a pocket, Tifa makes sure to exaggerate zipping it up. Gotta keep this gift safe. "Well, no takesies backsies~!"

@azure-steel

[namelessarcher]

Hi! Can I request hcs for arjuna and archer gil seeing their s/o come back to chaldea severely injured?

Arjuna

Arjuna does not immediately respond. He hears the news, and it’s as though his entire world goes static. He can’t hear anything, it’s all white noise. But he can sense the chaos and tension that is permeating throughout all of Chaldea. 

It’s not until Mash runs by and informs him of the details that Arjuna is finally running towards the infirmary. He already knows that he will be denied entry. He knows that the chances of him being allowed inside are low, but he doesn’t care - he needs to see you for himself. He needs to determine that you’re alive and well, that you’re doing okay. 

As soon as he makes his way in, he feels like he can’t breathe. His eyes are locked on your frame, and he finds it hard for him to come to any sort of thoughts. All he can think about it is how pale you look. Your frame appeared smaller than before. Your hair was pushed haphazardly out of your way, with strands clinging onto your damp skin. Even though the room was rather cold, your body was burning and the sweat on your skin was evidence of that.

He can barely speak your name as he gets close enough to hold your hand in both of his. He’s trying so hard not to break down in front of everyone, but he also knows that he cannot leave your side. He refuses to. He’s terrified and anxious - scared that if he leaves, he may never see you again.

When he’s forced out of the infirmary so that the doctors could do their work, he struggles between sitting there and waiting patiently, or going out there to seek vengeance. If it weren’t for the fact that you had returned after you successfully reclaimed a timeline for yourself and the singularity was now sealed and closed off forever, he would’ve done it. 

While you’re recovering, he spends all his time checking in on you and telling you about all the stories about the happenings in Chaldea. His hands are always holding onto yours, and his voice is so soft and gentle, as though trying to lull you to sleep. In reality, he’s scared that he’ll disrupt the little bits of peace that he has right now. He knows that you are safe and that you are recovering, but it does scare him that you spend so much of your days sleeping. What if you close your eyes and never wake up again - it’s a really far reach for a what if, but he can’t help his fears causing him to be so paranoid. But every time you squeeze his hand in return and he sees your soft smile, he feels reassured that with time, you’ll be okay.

Gilgamesh

Gilgamesh is the first one to barge into the infirmary to see the situation for himself. He was informed almost immediately. Although, perhaps, informed was not the correct word. Gilgamesh has been monitoring your vital signs alongside Mash and Da Vinci as soon as they sent you out to check on that minute singularity. Despite his insistence on going along, you had denied him - stating that the Servants that were with you at the time of discovering it should be the ones to go with you. He regrets trusting someone besides himself to keep you safe.

His anger was - momentarily - directed towards them at first. He was frustrated and angered that he wasn’t there to help you. He should have been there. He knew for a fact that he was the best person to be by your side and protect you. It’s not as though the two of you haven’t been together since the very beginning of your journey in Chaldea. He wishes so strongly that he was there, and honestly if it weren’t for the fact that he’s been reprimanded by you countless of times to not start pointless arguments with other Servants in Chaldea. However, he does enact his ‘revenge’ in a different way by making the Servants that were there for you go through a much more extensive training regimen for them. The last thing he wants is for this mistake to happen again. 

He spends a lot of his time either pacing outside the hallway grumbling to himself about how your stubbornness led to this situation, but he also spends a lot of time just holding your hand and helping the medical staff take care of you. It’s one of the few times where he will change into clothes that are not so clunky and obnoxious and space consuming. He cares about you, and only wants the best. He was a bit clumsy when he first offered to help, but with the amount of time he’s spent watching over you, he’s gradually become better and better at taking care of you. 

When you’ve recovered enough to wake up, it’s one of the rare times in which Gil doesn’t nag at you much. He knows that you’re still struggling to move yourself around without assistance and he can tell from the grimace and pouts on your face that you are not happy with yourself either. Though once you open your mouth to complain, it’s highly likely that Gilgamesh will begin to point out everything that you could’ve done better and things you did wrong. It makes you want to shut him up, but you can hear the strain of emotion in his voice. This incident clearly did not sit well with him and he really was concerned for you.

[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.

[arofili]

Letting Go (Russingon family ficlet)

(set between this prompt and this one.)

~~~

Tears budded in Maedhros’ eyes as he held their children close to his chest. Gil was fast asleep, breathing loudly, his little face pressed against Maedhros’ arm; Erien’s slumber was more restless, twitching and wriggling, but she too leaned into her father’s embrace, trusting him unquestioningly.

Fingon pressed a kiss to Maedhros’ forehead, then settled next to him in their bed. “You can put them in their crib,” he whispered. It was in the room adjoining theirs, only a few paces away, and the babies were visible if the door was left open. Tonight, though, Fingon hoped to close the door, at least for long enough to wish his husband a proper goodbye.

Maedhros shook his head, one tear slipping down his cheek, then another. Fingon wiped them away gently, leaning against him to comfort.

I—I can’t let them go, he whispered into Fingon’s mind. I can’t...if I let them go, it’s—it’s over.

Fingon found himself suddenly blinking back tears of his own. Russo, he murmured, lost for words, the ache in his heart he’d been trying to ignore finally spilling out into every corner of his fëa.

I don’t want to go. Maedhros looked at him, lost and helpless and afraid like he hadn’t been in so very, very long. It’s always hard to leave you, Finno, but you—I know you have your duties, nad you can take care of yourself, and... He trembled, clutching tighter to the precious burdens in his arms. His babies. Their babies.

How can I leave them? Maedhros cried. Gil, Erien—Ilmo and Ari... Ai, Finno, I thought I knew what love was, when I fell for you. But this...our children...!

I know, Fingon whispered, and he did. He opened his fëa to his husband, sharing the ache of parting, so much more bitter now than ever before, the love for their precious, perfect family so strong it blinded him.

Were the twins not safely cradled in his arms, Maedhros would have collapsed into sobs, letting Fingon hold and comfort him. As it was, he stayed still, but Fingon wrapped himself around them all as best he could, while he still could.

What if they forget me? Maedhros wept. What if I don’t come back? What if something happens to—to you—to them—and I wasn’t there to protect—

I will keep us safe, Fingon growled, protectiveness burning within him. Nothing will happen to them. They will be safe, and loved, and strong and wise. Just like their atya.

He took a slow breath, calming himself. And you will keep them safe, too. They need you on the marches, holding the Siege. You are doing this for them. For me. For us.

I love you, Maedhros choked out, his mental voice garbled like it would be if he spoke aloud, such was the depth and intensity of his feeling. Finno, I love you, I love Ari, I love Gil—I love our family, I love us, I love—I love myself, for once, because they love me, they need me, and I know the same has been true for you all along, but with our babies—

It’s different, Fingon agreed, stroking first Ilmo’s silver hair, then Ari’s flaming curls. I know.

What kind of father leaves his children when they can barely walk? Maedhros thought bitterly.

One who loves them enough to return. Fingon kissed his husband, careful not to disturb the sleeping children in his arms. One who fights for them, and their atto.

But what if...

I will not let them forget you, Fingon said firmly, guessing rightly what Maedhros feared most. Physical dangers could be prevented by Maedhros’ defense of Himring; mental ones, spiritual ones, would be left to Fingon alone with Maedhros so far away. But he had help from his father, and the support of his faithful staff, and he no longer ruled Dor-lómin. He could do it. He would do it.

I will tell them stories of you, he promised. I will share my memories of you, in words and in Song and indemmar. I will write to you for them, and you will write back to them, and you will come back. And when they are old enough—

No, Maedhros said fiercely. Finno, we talked about this—they cannot come to Himring. I won’t allow it; it’s not safe, not even now—

And when they are grown? Fingon challenged. They will not fit so easily into your arms forever, Russo. Ari is already fiercely independent, going anywhere she wants—and Ilmo hero-worships you, just from what little he knows about why you must leave. They love you. They will want to be with you, be like you.

Maedhros shuddered. In his arms, Ariën squirmed, and they both fell still.

I fear that, Maedhros admitted quietly. I am not a hero...

“You are,” Fingon insisted softly, breaking the silence. You are my hero. Their hero. You will not let them down. You won’t let yourself.

Maedhros sighed. He leaned into Fingon, fëa and hröa, their fears and certainties mingling, the slumbering minds of their children hovering at the edge of their consciousnesses.

Put them to bed, Fingon murmured at last. You will hold them again. Let me love you right, Russo. You will say goodbye to them in the morning.

Maedhros hesitated. I can’t, he admitted. Finno, you’ll still be with them. I...

Fingon nodded, accepting the change in his plans. There would be time for intimacy later, in the hopeful future stretching out before them. And this was an intimacy all its own: there would never be another moment when their babies were this small, and unknowing of a life that did not include Atya.

I will be with you, Fingon promised. I always am. And they will be, too.

They drifted off like that, half-sitting in bed with their babies laid atop them, and even if their sleep was light, at least it was together. At least it was as a family, for one last night unbroken.

[iliveiloveiwrite]

Stay The Night // Malcolm Bright (Prodigal Son)

Summary: He never stays the night.

A/N: My first Prodigal Son fic! I am still getting to grips with Malcolm’s character so forgive me if things seem off! I would love some requests for Prodigal Son so feel free to drop them in my inbox! I am only writing for Malcolm right now. I hope you all enjoy!

Warnings: light angst, hurt/comfort, cute

Word Count: 1.7k

He never stayed the night.

He would fasten his shirt; taking care with each button as he kisses you again and again. He would laugh against your mouth – his hands stopping yours from undoing the buttons once again.

He never stayed the night.

It never mattered how many times you told yourself this would be the last time; you found yourself answering his phone call or his text and unlocking your door for him. Knowing he would let himself in; sweet nothings on the tip of his tongue – ready to be whispered lovingly into your ear.

It didn’t matter how many times you pleaded with him. He never stayed the night.

He claims that it’s to protect you, but you wonder if it’s more to protect himself. That he’s so innately terrified that the walls he spent years building are so happy to crumble around you. That he just isn’t ready for that yet.

Doubts fly around your head; distracting you from your work, pulling you away from his arms when he least expects it. Malcolm notices – of course he does, he’s a trained profiler, he would notice the little changes in your behaviour. The distance you so obviously try to put between you; short answers to texts, upset sighs on the phone.

Malcolm starts to spend his days thinking of you: thinking of your smile, your laugh, your kiss. It occupies the better part of his day as he wonders whether he had taken advantage of you, of what the both of you have together. He knows that something has changed between you; that something is wrong, but he cannot work out the cause.

It comes to ahead the evening he enters the tunnels under the city, following a serial killer claiming to know more about the Girl in the Box. He follows the suspect blindly; not thinking of anything else but getting his answers though, for one brief moment, as his ribs are crushed in the turnstile gate, Malcolm’s mind briefly flickers to you. A moment of pain free peace in and amongst it all.

Malcolm’s breathing is slow and heavy when you find him in Gil’s office. His eyes are closed, but he feels your presence – it charges the atmosphere in the room, making him long to touch you, but falter at the idea that he could possibly hurt you.

“I thought they had called my mother,” Malcolm says in greeting; his voice tight as his ribs protest any movement, any breath.

You shake your head, holding up your phone as some semblance of evidence, “Gil rang about a half hour ago, asking me to come to the station and get you of his sight.”

Malcolm laughs, then gasps in pain, “I think Gil is angry with me…”

“Think?” You all but shout, “You think Gil is angry with you? Christ, Malcolm, I’m angry with you.”

Malcolm furrows his brows, confused at your outburst. His eyes wander over your body; the speed of your breaths combined with the flush under your skin and the thin line of your lips suggests your anger, but your eyes…

Your eyes show pain; anger is there, it is simmering away quietly, waiting for fuel to be added to the fire but through it all, pain is the key emotion. He cannot help but wonder how long he has been blind to the pain in your eyes; wonders whether it was visible every time he kissed you goodnight before leaving you once again.

Throwing your hands in the air, you cross your arms over your body, protecting yourself from whatever else is about to happen. Nudging the chair leg with your foot, you sigh, “Come on, I’ll take you back to your flat.”

Malcolm frowns: opening his mouth to begin to protest but decides against it at the last moment. Instead, he slowly pulls himself out the chair, doing his best to hide the grimace that falls across his face at the first hint of pain and follows you out of the door.

The car ride is silent and full to the brim with awkward tension. He doesn’t know what to say; he doesn’t know what to do. He cannot decide whether he should reach across the console and take your hand, offering you some form of comfort despite it being him that is injured.

He doesn’t take your hand. He chickens out at the last moment, unable to stop thinking about the pain in your eyes. Instead, he clenches his hand into a tight fist, willing himself to keep his hands to himself.

Distantly, Malcolm tries to pinpoint the exact moment it went wrong between you both. It wasn’t his job – you were just as dedicated to yours. It wasn’t his talent for profiling; for the keen sense of observation he uses in his everyday life.

It comes to him all at once.

He never stayed the night. He had left you too many times.

Tilting his head back onto the headrest, Malcolm deliberates whether he had left you alone one too many times, whether his time with you was now running out. He can feel the first crack in his heart when the thought crosses his mind; he feels it and he doesn’t like it.

-----

Malcolm’s flat is cold when you enter behind the brunette. His bird twitters away happily at the sight of their owner; you cannot help but smile softly at the sight of Malcolm greeting his beloved pet.

That very smile turns fond as Malcolm turns his attentions to you, gesturing you further into his home. To your heart, it didn’t matter how many times Malcolm had left you in the night, how his side of the bed turned cold before he had closed the door behind him. It didn’t matter because he had so easily managed to capture it for his own gain.

Malcolm takes a seat at his breakfast bar gingerly, willing himself not to jostle his side too much. He watches you with a wide-eyed expression as he tracks your movement; watching you grab a glass and fill it with water.

The glass landing on the counter is the only sound in the room. Malcolm doesn’t dare say anything for fear of pushing you further away; you refuse to say anything for fear of showing your true feelings.

“If you have everything you need, I’ll get going. I’ll call you in the morning to check up on you, Malcolm,” You comment quietly, pushing away from the breakfast counter, ready to leave and not come back unless absolutely necessary.

“What?” The questions falls from his lips before he even thinks it through; he just cannot seem to comprehend that you would leave him.

“I’m going. You’ve got your pain meds and some water, I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” You sigh, tugging your jacket tighter and heading for the door.

“Wait!” Malcolm calls, standing from the breakfast bar with slow, painful movements. It is only in this instant that he regrets ever following that man into the tunnel; it is only now he regrets such an action for the fact that it looks like you’re about to walk out of his life and Malcolm feels as if he won’t see you again.

“Wait,” He repeats, “Please.”

You pause at the door, turning to face him. His eyes are almost wild with unspoken emotions as he outstretches a single hand, as if he could bridge the gap that had grown between the both of you over the last few weeks.

“Yes, Malcolm,” You sigh tiredly. You feel the fight leave you as your limbs suddenly become heavy; the weight of the emotions you have been feeling these past few weeks beginning to press down heavily upon you.

“What happened between us?” He asks timidly, as if afraid of the answer he will find. Malcolm has searched for answers since he was ten years old, watching his father being hauled away by the authorities. Now, however, he finds himself scared of the answer he might find.

“You never stayed the night. You would always kiss me and then leave. Why?” You counter, finally asking the question that has been circling your mind since the pattern emerged. Your voice breaks with barely held in emotions.

“There is a lot involved when it comes to being with me. I didn’t want to put you through all of it,” He replies in reason, closing his eyes at the pain that so clearly sounded in your voice.

“I think I did alright tonight,” You comment airily, gesturing to his bandaged chest.

Malcolm laughs, but doesn’t regret the burst of pain from his ribs. He reaches for your hand again, smiling happily when you don’t pull your hand away. “I think you did alright tonight too,” He murmurs.

“So why would you leave?”

Malcolm averts his gaze, thinking over the words carefully. “Would you believe me if I told you I was scared?” He asks.

“Of what?”

“Of it all,” He confesses, “There is so much that comes with being with me, having to manage everything… I understand how it can become too much for one person so that’s why I would leave every time when all I really wanted to do was spend every waking minute with you.”

“Why didn’t you tell me this earlier?” You demand, curiosity your besetting sin.

“I was scared. I was doing it all to protect you, but I’ve gone about it the wrong way.”

You squeeze his hand, offering him a form of comfort as you work through what Malcolm has told you. He remains silent, happy for now to be stood by you, holding your hand in his.

“Stay the night?” He asks, pulling you gently towards the couch.

You bite your lip, glancing quickly between the door and the hopeful expression on Malcolm’s face.

“I want to make this a regular thing,” He states before clarifying, “Not the injured side of things, but staying with you, sleeping with you. I don’t like leaving you anymore. I don’t want to leave you anymore.”

“Malcolm…” You trail off, thinking of your countless attempts at taking your relationship further, at asking him to stay with you in the futile hope you could help with whatever terrors he suffers with at night.

“Stay the night?” He asks, repeating the same question from moments ago. His voice is hopeful, and his blue eyes shine bright with untold emotion along with the clear trust that burns there.

Smiling softly, you answer, “I’ll stay the night.”

****

Prodigal Son Taglist: @thecaptainsgingersnap​

[ask19thcentury-doctorgilbert]

Hey there! I thought I’d answer this ooc because Gilbert would never give a straight answer to these questions and after last night’s post I’m really down to talk more in depth about the doc’s mental health.

But before I dive into that, I just wanted to say thank you? I’m really glad to know that you think I do a good job at handling the portrayal of his mental health struggles, that really means a lot and is one of the best compliments I’ve been given ;v; I try to be as realistic and sensitive as I can and I’m glad to know that it pays off!

Alright, onto some headcanon rambling. Fair warning, this post is long and I go off into several tangents sdjjkds

Trigger warnings for the content below: depression, anxiety, suicide, childhood neglect / abuse, self-harm, and bad coping habits.

There’s at least 6 points in Gil’s life wherein his mental health was at its worst: the death of his father, the majority of his duchy years, frederick’s death, the napoleonic era, the entire stretch of the gdr era, and those years between the fall of the wall and him leaving to go to university in Zurich. I can write an entire post about each of those times, but for the sake of answering these asks, I’ll be focusing mainly on the first point and his crusader years.

To answer the first question, I think Gilbert’s first major depressive episode happened when he was a child after his adoptive father, Otmar Beilschmidt, died. He was a constant, comforting presence in the boy’s early life; someone he knew he can depend on and turn to if things ever got too scary or overwhelming. Even after he got ‘turned’ into a representative and the heads of the Order formally took him in, little Gisil still kept being stuck to his father’s hip. And Otmar, as unsettled as he was to find out that his son was suddenly some kind of miracle child, did his best to come to terms with it and help his son cope with his new nature too.

(Slightly off topic side note but I always had the idea that Otmar never really got over reacting with shock whenever he witnessed anything that confirmed that his son wasn’t fully human anymore, like watching a small scratch stitch itself back together. Gisil, being a perceptive and sensitive child, would catch on to that quick and I’m 100% sure he’s asked his father if he was afraid of him before. To which I’m sure Otmar told a half-truth and said that no, he wasn’t afraid of him --- After all, how could he be afraid of someone that God created to bring some good into the world?)

Either way, the sudden loss of that steady, dependable figure in his life really knocked Gisil’s world out of balance and triggered his first major depressive episode. He wouldn’t eat much at mealtimes and found it hard to sleep at night which would then translate into the kid being far more irritable and restless than usual during the day; prone to tantrums and crying if something didn’t go his way. But instead of someone sitting down and trying to understand why he was acting out, he was chastised for acting the way he did; told that he was allowed to grieve his father, but he had to be more mature about it and behave better. Not wanting to disappoint the adults who would be looking after him now, Gisil taught himself how to swallow back the hurt and put a lid on it. It didn’t make him hurt any less, in fact it may have started to translate into physical symptoms like a mildly upset stomach or a headache, but it didn’t bother anyone and his new parental figures seemed to approve so he just came to accept that it must be the right thing to do.

While he eventually got over the worst of the pain relating to his father’s death (or at least learned how to stuff it far enough in the back of his mind that he could pay it no mind) those symptoms continued to quietly haunt him. Mikael was prone to having trouble sleeping in the night (and he often passes the time by practising his writing, or sometimes he’ll get up and sneak out of the sleeping quarters to just sit in the chapel. sometimes praying, sometimes just sitting quietly and hoping that the silence and the coolness coming from the stone walls would somehow lull him to sleep) and to having days where he acts more hot-headed and impulsive than usual. 

The disconnect between desperately wanting to be the ‘good’ person he believes he was created to be and some of the awful things the Order has done to do ‘good’ in the name of God also feeds into that depression and anxiety, especially when he keeps bottling it up because he really has no one to talk to about these things and because that’s what he’s used to doing. This internal conflict will eventually bubble over in his Duchy years, a period of time where Gilbert’s whole mental and emotional well-being was incredibly fragile. (If you wanna read more about what happened during that time, I have an old post about it here. Trigger and content warnings are at the very beginning!)

As for the second question, I think it’s safe to say Gilbert was messed up by essentially being a child soldier. Physical damage doesn’t stay long but the mental/emotional damage was extensive.

Even if his first depressive episode was triggered by his father’s death, the things he saw and experienced during his time as the representative of the Teutonic Order, definitely helped to make things worse. All the bad habits and symptoms he experienced in his youth continue to haunt him until adulthood. Gilbert would still rather brush someone’s concern off with an ‘I’m fine’ coupled with a reassuring smile than risk bothering them with whatever he’s dealing with. Since staying with Konrad and Reiner (who have their own struggles that deserve its own post) he’s learned to open up a little more with enough prompting, but he’d still much rather keep his problems to himself. He still regularly struggles with insomnia that gets worse when he finds himself in a slump, which then translates to frustration, irritability, and a tendency to neglect self care like forgetting to eat. He’s struggled with suicidal thoughts before and has made an attempt on two occasions: once in his Duchy years, the other right after the Napoleonic Era came to a close.

I think another thing that really added fuel to the fire is just the nature of Gil’s existence? Like most nations in his generation have had the chance to just roam around being children in their childhood, some might have even been cared for by the ancients, but he’s never had any of that? He had 10 years of it as a regular human child and then another 8 years after he was ‘turned’ of simply tending to sick and injured pilgrims. He had only 18 years of relative normalcy before he was thrown into a life of constant war, made out to be some holy figurehead, while I feel like most others had much longer. His ability to compartmentalize, to separate the self from the nation, was lacking compared to others in his cohort because he was just so young, physically and in nation years, when he was thrown into the mess. He’s a child nation who’s still young enough to remember his life as a human, to remember what it’s like to think and feel and to fear like a human and I think that messed with his ability to cope. Templar and Hospitaller might be the only ones who can understand what that was like since I think they were thrown into the fire relatively quickly after they were turned as young kids, but Ezekiel is far away and Sanson... Well, we all know what happened to poor Sanson.

The good news is, in the modern day, he is doing so much better since he started regularly meeting with a therapist and getting on the right medication regimen. It took him a while to really accept the fact that he needs help, even if logically he knew this was the right thing to do. There are still bad days but the genuinely good days far outnumber them now and that’s worth the uphill climb that is trying to sort out his issues.

[starfirette]

dating  seung~gil lee

a/n: YOU KNOW WHAWT FUCK IT, I’M WRITING FOR MY YURI ON ICE BOYS AND YOU CAN’T FUCKING STOP ME 

masterlist | request more Yuri On Ice you cowards 

Seung~Gil is often mistaken as a stoic person, or even a tsundere type. He keeps to himself mostly; this is often because he is in his own mind, and doesn’t really pay attention to things that are not directly affecting him. If he’s got his mind on something, he doesn’t like to be bothered. This makes your first meeting a little bit awkward. You were somewhat ticked off to having been snapped at by someone you didn’t know, especially for something as little as running into him by accident. The instant he looked at you, and saw how he’d reacted, he immediately apologized. 

Progressing through the relationship, you begin to become someone that Seung~Gil considers to be part of his innermost circle. He doesn’t have many people he considers to be this close to him. I imagine that maybe some of his relatives can be close with him. Although, that makes you entirely special. He’s never had someone like you. You’re so special to him. 

He lets you in on mostly everything that crosses his mind. He is likely to consult you with everything when it comes to his programs and career. Seung~Gil in general is a quiet person. He prefers dates like going to a nice restaurant, visiting a museum, or even just staying in and eating take out. He absolutely is physical person. He will sit close so your thighs touch. He will want to be holding your hand. 

While sleeping, he likes when you just sort of attach yourself to him. Arms and legs around his waist with your face nuzzled into his chest. He’ll curl over and kiss your hair. 

Seung~Gil finds it extremely important that you allow his dog to sleep on the bed with him. 

If anyone else out there has a big ass dog that likes to sleep in bed with you, then you already know what’s coming. Big ass cuddle piles. Sometimes the dog just lays on your feet and keeps you nice and warm during the winter. Cuddle piles are common. Cuddle piles in bed while watching movies is Seung~Gil’s go-to feel better remedy. 

After failing to reach the final of the grand prix, he became sort of depressed. He was incredibly disappointed and fell into a silent zombie ish state. He wouldn’t say anything or ask for anything. It’s honestly up to you, here. Seung~Gil secretly enjoys the affection and attention. Hearing that you have complete confidence in him is what he needs to get back on his feet. 

You’ve always been on Seung~Gil’s side. He’s never been the sort to cater to his fangirls. That’s what you really like about him! His routines are always meant to focus on his strengths. Besides, why would he need to cater to anyone when he’s already hot as hell? 

He likes the idea of you being possessive. Whenever he’s recognized by a fangirl on the streets, you make it subtly clear that he’s your man. Though, that’s not to say you don’t appreciate his fans! You absolutely adore them. Most are normal, though. You love the praise and unconditional support they give him. 

In Seung~Gil’s eyes, however, you’re the only fan he needs. He would never say this out loud! 

Seung~Gil is definitely a show-don’t-tell kind of guy. He makes his love for you clear through gestures and other actions. He doesn’t bother asking what you want for holiday gifts; he’s done such a good job at watching and learning about you. He always knows exactly what you like. 

Seung~Gil would not mind you being clingy, to be very honest. He’s rather mellow when it comes to this. Being that you’re one of the most important people in his life, he doesn’t see why he should mind if you’re clingy or not. He sorta likes it sometimes. He enjoys small tokens or gifts, and small displays of affection. He very much loves hearing that you care about him. He doesn’t want you to go overboard with it, because then he’ll become a bit shy, but he really likes hearing the small affectionate phrases. 

Seung~Gil absolutely adores you. He thinks you’re the sexiest being on the planet! 

He wouldn’t have any cheesy nicknames for you. Jagi or jagiya is about as far as he’ll go. He wouldn’t necesarrily argue if you wanted to call him something embarassing like Honey Bun or Love Dove or anything similar. DON’T DO IT IN PUBLIC!! He refers to you by your name in public or with anyone else, even his parents or his coach. 

He quietly thinks of you as a good luck charm, not that he’s ever been suspicious. Though you often suggest to stay back home to take care of the dog and the house, Seung~Gil prefers you being there to watch him. 

You’re always on the sidelines rooting for him. When he comes off the rink, he goes to you before his coach, much to her dismay. He’s made it clear that he values your opinion over all else. He always asks for your honest thoughts and he expects you to give them. Do not lie to him! He wouldn’t want to hear it, even if it’s in an attempt to make him feel better. 

[ufvincent]

—> hello? (goodbye!)

@ufnathaniel

one might conclude he’s seeking out trouble — the usual, others may chime in, for often does the mood strike him, to allow violent intents to run its course when called upon. in this case, however, upon this mundane day filled with mindless chatter and the mediocre bustle of the afternoon crowds, there is little reason for him to be loitering around the streets of ouros. little to none, really.

vincent has absolutely no business being in ouros. (lie) 

maybe it’s more a half-truth camouflaged by falsities he wished were true. a contradiction to his inner philosophies; as if the (so proclaimed) heart of ouros itself wasn’t the very person he’s successfully avoided encountering since their last ill tendered farewell, and the very one he has absolutely no business nor intentions to see. 

and yet  —  perhaps the more accurate sentiment that would more aptly fit the circumstances in lieu of ‘avoidance’ would(/could/should) be ‘yearning to see’.

perhaps. perhaps.  

to set the scene, there is an elegantly dressed lady before him in this corner of town square sans much privacy. there’s a smile that promises something delightfully wicked as his hand sits perched against the wall before him —  thus, with a picture perfect distraction entrapped between his torso and the wall, and sweet nothings conjured too easily to chapped lips for willing ears; vincent has a reason to be in the city this fateful day. 

a solid reason. a real reason. 

(lie. or is it truly a lie if he can’t remember the excuse’s name; a fact instead diluted with affectionate pet names as placeholders and half a prayer for her continued ignorance  —  as he’d hoped for with the man he entertained before her,  and the one before them,  and so forth; all doomed to become just another name, another face in the crowd.  see, here and now, in a city that holds the given name of ouros — the name on his mind is inevitable).

his eyes begin to wander without much thought, potential conquest caught up in a story he cares little to hear, and they seek for something he’s not bound to find. or perhaps it’s simply boredom with the scene, for people generally can hold his attention for only so long (outside the very privileged chosen ones, of course. others (read: normal people) may call these so-called chosen ones his loved ones).

it feels as if his eyes are playing a trick at first.  

its automatic —  the way his free hand clenches into a fist, as he fixates on that newly sighted, familiar curve of a back within the crowd, as he wills the individual to turn to face him from where they patrol, as he locks eyes with someone that looks awfully identical to the object of his turmoil. 

there’s a nudge to his shoulder he’s keen on ignoring, fixed upon the figure that easily captures his attention without a moment’s thought  —  his more criminal vice will always be this; the hold he’s allowed the other to have upon him, to a sickening extent. 

“gil?” his once-potential conquest chimes in with his alias of the day, another touch to the forearm in search of the attention that had been present moments prior. the sweet persona he’d adorned has all but melted away now, and with a dismissive wave, he detaches himself from her touch,  interest gone altogether for the woman he’d been entertaining since the start of the night as she scoffs in place.

instead, he keeps his gaze unnervingly fixed, willing the other to approach him upon his own free will. he doesn’t dare call out his name.

[elerondo]

Headcanon | Rivendell and Celebrian

This headcanon is set in the timeline from S.A. 1697 to T.A. 2501, so it’s going to be very long. It is my attempt at the fullest account of Elrond’s priorities in that timeline, and his life and marriage to Celebrian. And the After.

PRELUDE After the initial crush that Elrond had on Celebrian, Elrond did wait more than 1700 years before proposing to her. Elrond did not want to subject her to a life of war and hardship with him when they’d only just met. Elrond loved Celebrian enough to let her go home to safety and a more peaceful life. But Elrond loved Middle Earth more, that he would sacrifice his personal happiness in order to protect and save the free peoples.

The dire costs of the War of the Elves and Sauron were echoes of the War of Wrath, where Elrond had seen the wrath of the dragons as a youth and the trumpets that eventually marred and sunk Beleriand. He was determined not to let Eriador reach that stage of destruction, and since few of the strangers in the Valley were well enough to engage in battle, Elrond was frequently at the helm of offensive measures against the forces of Sauron that sought to besiege Rivendell.

POST WAR OF THE ELVES AND SAURON When Rivendell was founded, it was basically filled with refugees and soldiers gravely wounded from the destruction of Eregion and Sauron’s conquest of Eriador. Simply put, Rivendell was functional at best, and a stinky shit hole of armour and blood at its worst. A stronghold with severely weakened military power. There was no Ring of Power to protect it yet, so Elrond took it upon himself to ride out and meet evil before it could come near. Frequently, he rode from the northern foothills of the Hithaeglir, to the south bordering the outskirts of Eregion, then east across the valley to the ford of Bruinen, and even further still to penetrate the forests to the west.

Even though Elrond wanted to beautify Rivendell with other areas like education, hospitality, music, etc, it remained clear to Elrond that his immediate and most urgent priorities had to be taking vanguard in most marches as his elves and men were recovering, returning home, or sailing West.

After Vilya was handed to Elrond and he was made Lord and Master of Rivendell, Elrond was at the peak of his power and strength. Loyal and following the passions of a war won, the coverage of Vilya stretched from the Men-i-Naugrim to the Coldfells to the Last Bridge to the meet of Mitheithel and Bruinen. It matched his initial marches, patrols, and more. Elrond purified the forests and straightened the roads, dealing death to the last of the fell beings out of the Coldfells, the East Road, and the Old Forest Road. Strongholds were built upon the Misty Mountains and the borders of Eregion to keep watch on the southern and eastern passages. Where the Ring could reach, there Elrond’s spirit was, working its inner machinations to keep it safe.

FALL OF NUMENOR Elrond took his marches very far south to keep the borders and to exercise his Crown rights. He tripled the patrols around southern Eriador. If there were any stray survivors, they must be verified clean and without evil before they could travel. Otherwise, they were caught and handed to the nearest City willing to let them stand trial. When the presence of the Crown Prince of the Noldor increased near the borders of Gondor, there were quite many mixed reactions. A certain pressure to observe decorum, for example, to stop everything one was doing to answer questions, possessions checked thoroughly, and weapons that were deemed stolen or machines of darkness were confiscated until further notice. As long as one saw the banners of Gil-galad, even from a distance, they were compelled to stop and obey.

MARRIAGE TO CELEBRIAN Elrond is not a free and easy leader. He is a leader who actively chooses to sacrifice his happiness, his reputation, rest / sleep / food, for the sake of protecting and aiding the people at large. Elrond’s version of taking care of himself was stretched until his limits threatened to break, then rest for a while. It was the equivalent of sleeping once a week.

I think that Celebrian would have heard a lot about Elrond and what he was doing, Elrond’s fame and infamy spreading far and wide over the Misty Mountains. On the other side of the land, Elrond knew his deeds and renown were preceding him. He had some fears that he wouldn’t be well liked, because who could understand the land’s emergencies as well as him? He didn’t think anyone could, not because he was arrogant or wanted to do everything himself, but he was the most endowed.

Celebrian would be the only person Elrond could be weak to without being judged, rejected, or told to change or stop what he was doing. With her, Elrond was that bit more comfortable in taking / asking for comforts, and sharing his griefs, resentment, the nasty stuff and not just his plans, counsel, the good stuff that was always dispensed to all without cost. Celebrian was the shoulder Elrond cried on, while he was the shoulder for the world. Celebrian was the person whom Elrond revealed all of his quirks and eccentricity to. It was Celebrian who really made Rivendell into a Homely House. Celebrian was the one who helped him fulfil his visions and execute the blueprints of his mind while he properly focused on keeping Eriador and Rivendell safe. With her in mind, Elrond took more care of himself because he did not want her to be worried about him. Elrond was the healthiest in the 1000+ years before the Angmar War.

ANGMAR RISING The split and existence of Rhudaur in T.A. 861 unsettled him and so Elrond frequently visited Arthedain in secret, debating upon many topics of potential insurrection and defense strategies. The chief of the matter were these: Both Rhudaur and Cardolan desired to possess Amon Sul, and Rhudaur resisted Argeleb who claimed to be High King over all of Arnor. Elrond was sensitive to the matters of kingship and the Palantir. For the lands of Men and the Palantiri to come under one king was better than for them to split into the hands of the wrong people. Celebrian understood that for Elrond to ally Rivendell with Arthedain, hostilities with the rest would be inevitable.

( my Angmar war timeline here where Elrond suffered a Morgul-wound at the end of )

THE WATCHFUL PEACE … is a deceitful name. It was more watchful than it was peaceful.

Rivendell spent the early years recovering from the 600 year war, especially Elrond - being the first of all elves to suffer a Morgul-wound, a large scar on his back with no recovery method yet. Elrond had to devise and experiment on himself, while he was suffering from it, before he managed to heal himself. However, the military never again rises up to any relevant standard in a war. A lot of commanders were lost, Elrond was weak and sick, and many elves succumbed to their injuries, grief, and they faded or sailed West.

Every year for the rest of Elrond’s life in Middle Earth, on the same week, the Morgul-wound brought Elrond searing and debilitating pain. He still could hold the power of Vilya over The Angle and the Misty Mountains, but the western forests and Coldfells were neglected.

Rivendell never ceases to send patrols across Eriador, despite Elrond being in an extremely bad shape and the vale was desperately short handed. Elrond depended on Vilya more, both to heal and to protect, as he would leave Rivendell defenseless except for the Kingsguard, while he sent aid and resources everywhere else. Celebrian was beside him every step of the way, going into a Post-war scenario in a huge piece of land called Eriador again. They really could not enjoy the quieter times at all.

Furthermore, before the Watchful Peace ended, evil again invaded Eriador. It was followed by Galadriel’s summons of the White Council.

CELEBRIAN ASSAILED, DEPARTURE TO THE WEST 46 years later, tragedy ended the marriage of Celebrian and Elrond. He would be officially widowed with her passing over the Great Sea. The greatest healer who ever lived could not save his greatest love.

He let her go when she made her choice to go. He did not force to stay her, it would be too cruel to her. Elrond chose to do what was right instead of what was kinder to himself. When she left, she tore half his heart and flesh along with it.

This trauma is one that Elrond carries with him. The darkening of the times did work to twist his sacrifice into guilt, into thoughts of ❛What if❜ he was stronger, more powerful, better, or enough. Because of how obvious it was that Celebrian’s assault was premeditated by Sauron to weaken Rivendell, Elrond would always blame himself for bringing her into his life. Perhaps he should have just continued hiding his love. Perhaps she would have been safe. Perhaps.

In Elrond’s lowest moments, he could not understand what was so good about Valinor. He could not reconcile Celebrian’s choice of Aman over him and their 3 children together. For all his wars and battles in Middle Earth, no army ever came from the West to aid the people. He has no good perception of Aman. Over time, Celebrian’s departure joined one of many gravestones that Elrond had to force himself to move forward from. It was the only way, force himself not to dwell on it, bury himself in work, in the forge, in planning. For his children, for all the people who depended on him, for the sake of unseating Sauron, Elrond had to move forward even if it was by crawling through the mud.

His love for her did dull, did become mixed with depression, and he feared to see her again if he sailed to Aman. Elrond fears that Aman might actually be better for Celebrian than him. The dilemma? Wanting Celebrian to be happy and healthy, but wanting it to be him for her and no one else. Elrond knew the solution to that, and the answer was: Not him. It is a fact that is so hard to swallow at times, that he has to leave the love of his life in someone else’s hands.

[changebydjo]

IMPORTANT - PLEASE READ

 so i’ve put off writing this for a long, long time, and it’ll be painful for me to make this post but at this point i feel like it needs to be done. someone within the liz fandom has been lying, gaslighting and manipulating me as well as many others, both online and offline, and after getting proof on everything (plus their lack of remorse) has prompted me to write this.

this is about gil perez, aka @unrated-g, and one of his irl friends, kim @kimbus-the-whimbus, to a lesser extent, but mostly gil. since 2016 - nearly 5 years now - he’s been lying that he’s best friends with liz gillies. i’m gonna put a read more because it’s a long, insane, and ridiculous thing that happened, but please read all of it and know how serious this is, as well as all the damage this man has done.

​

i met gil through tumblr in 2018 - he had been replying my posts since before that, but early 2018 is when i followed him and started chatting with him casually. over time, i noticed that he would reblog posts about liz and in the tags he would seem to be talking to her or referencing her, but not by her name - instead he would call her “goblin”. he would mention things that “goblin” liked or behind the scenes on dynasty stuff, and after a few weeks of noticing this and chatting with him about dynasty/liz, i ended up asking him if he was friends with liz/knew her personally because of the way he spoke about her. he confirmed to me that he knew her, she was one of his best friends, and he “didn’t expect” anyone to pick up on it. he told me to keep it private and i agreed, obviously, because i had no reason to not trust him, and i know that liz values her privacy.

it’s important to note that liz does NOT follow him or any of his accounts from her verified twitter or instagram accounts - instead, he said she had an “extremely private” encrypted tumblr account that could only be seen by people she follows/white listed. he was one of them. her blog would not show up for anyone else, and they met through tumblr in 2016 (even though he said she followed him back in 2010 and he didn’t realize until 6 years later) through their mutual love for uncharted, and bonded over playing uncharted 4 multiplayer together. it’s also important to note that liz has had 2 tumblr accounts since 2010, both of which she has abandoned, and he said that her private tumblr is separate from those two. she also was friends with him (according to him) through PSN, where they would play ps4 games together, and all of his text convos with her are from that app:

(^ “liz’s” PSN account)

throughout all of 2018, we would text on a regular basis and started becoming good friends. he was extremely kind, always willing to be there for me, and listened to me about not only fandom stuff but also my irl problems. he also became friends with my friend group, who were also in the liz fandom, and it was really nice for a while. in october of 2018, gil said he went to HHN with liz and matt in LA, and for xmas of 2018, he said he spent it with liz - both in LA and in NJ, which is what she typically does to spend her holidays with her family and friends. her pale blue eyes cover was also for him, according to gil, because he asked for her to cover it specifically and she did just for him.

gil would also occasionally stream for friends, and sometimes liz would show up:

beginning of 2019 is when gil and i started getting much closer - we started playing games together (mostly mario kart, at the beginning) and talking through voice chat. he would talk about liz and personal things about her/her life or dynasty, and he always willingly supplied that information himself - i never asked for it, i wasn’t friends with him to get information on liz or have an “in” with her. chatting with him made me feel good and happy and important to him, and i realized i started having feelings for him - which i told him about in april 2019. he said he wasn’t sure exactly how he felt but he thought he might feel the same, the only really complicated part (besides the fact that this was long distance/not irl) was that he also had a really deep crush on liz, someone who was his best friend/ultimate celeb crush. he was really like in love with her, even though he said he tried to suppress it. anyways, after me admitting that to him, our friendship started to develop into something more. we weren’t ever in an official relationship, but things were definitely not strictly platonic with us. we went from chatting once every week or two to almost every single night for 3-6 hours per night for MONTHS. throughout that time, our relationship became sexual, too, and my feelings for him just continued to get deeper and deeper.

this continues throughout the rest of 2019, and then new years 2020, everything just...goes to shit asap. gil got really distant with me with no explanation, i felt like all the affection he was showing me and the kind things he would say to me, as well as our bonding time when we would chat together, was just ripped away unexpectedly. i constantly asked what was wrong and what was happening, and told him how i feel, and i got no real response besides just being tired/non-sociable, etc. (which, for the record, is completely understandable, but it was such a huge 180 in behavior that it worried me and things never went back to normal after that). in addition to that, kim (who was mentioned at the beginning of this post) is one of his best friends irl, as well as his on again/off again ex (according to him). anyways, there were posts that she had made that indicated to them not being exes and instead still together - or at the very least not platonic - which crushed me when i found out, because until that point i had no reason not to trust him. i told him about it though, and how it hurt me because my feelings were so deep for him at that point i felt that i loved him, and he told me they weren’t together. this isn’t really necessary for the liz stuff of this post, but it’s important for context for how hurt and on edge i was already feeling before things got worse.

we would still chat maybe a few times a week, but nothing like it used to be, and i was happy we would even chat at all, even though things felt so weird and different and off, and no matter what i did, i couldn’t fix it. as 2020 started going on, and this continued, his friendship with liz started making me feel extremely uncomfortable. knowing that he had the weird boundaries with his ex, plus whatever was going on with me and him, AND that he was in love with liz?? it was unsettling. i felt like i couldn’t compare, because it’s *liz gillies*, someone i obviously love and idolize and look up to. and she was up on a pedestal for him, even though he said that he never tried to treat liz differently than his other close friends just bc of who she was, but that wasn’t true. anything that she said or did, he agreed with 100%, and would defend it. when he and i would chat, and i would mention something about dynasty that bothered me, he would talk about what liz’s thoughts were on it and how she felt and that she was right to feel that way and it made me feel awful. this happened on multiple occasions throughout various topics, from dynasty to fandom stuff to liz’s friendships/relationships, etc. no matter what, to gil, liz was always right and he always had an explanation for anything that happened. the way he would describe liz and the thing he said about her made me see her in a completely different light - she was not the same liz that she presented herself as, at least in gil’s eyes. 

he would always talk about how amazing liz was to him and how she did so much for him, such as buying him gifts, supporting his art, etc. this was hurtful to hear because i was doing the exact same things for him, as well as our group of friends: we had been buying his art (not only the art prints but the ACTUAL original copies), sending him gifts or money for gifts, supporting him and his art on social media, as well as just being a genuine friend to him. he never appreciated or thanked us the way that he thanked liz; none of us ever compared to her, even though we were doing the exact same thing for him that he said liz was doing, as well. it made me feel like no matter what i did, or how supportive i was, i was never enough.

we also had a discord with gil, that involved him, me, and my friends sarah, hope, amanda, and dom. within this discord, it’s worth noting that gil was the only man there, and would talk about liz and his friendship with her there, unprompted. we never asked for info, he volunteered everything willingly, and we all kind of glossed over it at the time because we weren’t friends with him for liz or any of that.

(the screenshot gil linked in the gc is what “liz’s” private encrypted blog looks like on his dash. please note the edit post button in the bottom right of the screenshot.)

another important thing about his friendship with liz/being in love with her: he has this specific kink (which i don’t want to say what it is for privacy reasons) and he said that liz was engaging in this kink herself, and that he was jealous of liz’s bf/wishes he could engage in it with liz, etc. i wasn’t into this kink before talking to him but because i had liked him so much at the time, and i was slightly jealous that he wanted it with liz, i thought that i could indulge in it for him. it was something that i was not physically or mentally prepared for/able to make happen, and it really caused an impact on me, and he just...didn’t care. at all.

anyways: this stuff continues, then around summer 2020, my friend sarah reached out to him. she (and my friends, along with me) were starting to distrust the things gil was saying about liz, since it went completely against what liz would say herself. she would say she only plays the sims 3 on her computer - he would say she was a huge gamer and played the sims 4 on ps4, along with minecraft, uncharted, the last of us, horizon zero dawn, etc. he would say that liz and maddison brown (her dynasty co-star) played ACNH with him and quickly got to 5 stars - liz said in a zach sang interview that she didn’t play animal crossing. every time something didn’t add up, his excuse was that liz was lying for her privacy. she didn’t follow gil on any verified social media accounts in case “people harassed him” over being friends with her. so sarah texted him that she needed to talk to him about the liz stuff, because there was evidence it wasn’t true, and he denied all of it. he firmly stuck to his story, and sarah gave him multiple chances over several days to come clean and he wouldn’t. she asked for simple pieces of proof that he could give her, and he wouldn’t besides fake screenshots of her “private blog”:

 he told me afterwards that if it comes between his friendship with liz or sarah’s, he’s picking liz - end of story. his and sarah’s friendship was done after that because of his decision. he blamed sarah for “ruining” liz and maddison’s friendship because of her asking for proof, and made her out to be the bad one in that situation. he ended up deleting the discord gc after this happened, with all of his screenshots/”info” as liz as well (we got screenshots of things before he deleted it though, much more that’s shown in this post).

about a month later, my friend léa also confronted him about it. gil had told her some things about liz’s “reaction” to meeting léa in paris, and at the time, it had made the experience more special for her. once she realized it was all lies, though, it really hurt her - he altered that special experience for her and twisted it into something that wasn’t real. he had the same reaction to léa’s conversation as he did to sarah’s, and he refused to tell the truth. their friendship was done with after, as well, along with a few other people from the liz fandom. i was the only one who stayed friends with him after that, and that was because i was closest with him and still trying to see if i could fix things with him. i was still naively believing that he would treat me okay again, he would make me feel important instead of always a backup option, that he wanted me again. 

but of course that never happened. he continued to ignore me, talk to me less and less, and would subtweet me on his private account. after he stopped being friends with sarah and léa and everyone blocked him except for me, i was the only follower on his private account, as well as being the only person he followed there. gil, though, kept saying that liz had a “private twitter” where she would talk to him on his private account. he also said that he had “merged twitter accounts” into one, which was his private, which messed up his account and wouldn’t show who he was replying to, quote rts, or that he was following them, which - if you have a twitter, you KNOW none of that can actually happen. but it was his excuse to constantly subtweet me and my friends for not believing him, to maintain his story, AND to have convos with “liz” on there that only i could see, where he made it sound like he was talking shit about me to her. it was extremely manipulative and served no purpose except to fuck with me, because he knew that i was the only one seeing those tweets and knew i was already struggling with not knowing what to believe. here’s some of them:

(you can very clearly see that i’m the only follower/following on that account, the number is at literally 1, and he STILL was acting like he was talking to someone else and that other people were following him.)

now comes jan. 2021!! WE GOT DEFINITE PROOF THAT IT WAS ALL LIES. from multiple people. one of liz’s close best friends (that gil included in his stories about her, saying that he met them) said that they don’t know who gil is, have never met him, and it’s best for us all to block him for our own safety. a co-worker of liz’s (who was, again, included in gil’s lies, that he hung out with them multiple times, played games with them online, and bought him gifts) said that not only had they never met gil, but EVERYTHING he said about them was untrue. they even listed the inaccuracies he would say about them, such as gil taking photos of them at things like the SWT, and they confirmed who actually took the photo. they said that “none of it is fucking true” and that gil is a narcissistic liar, and also encouraged us to block him for our own safety. 

i confronted gil myself about this a few weeks ago, and he continued to maintain his story that everyone’s lying to protect his privacy - even though we know for sure that wasn’t the case. he FINALLY owned up to it to me only once he saw i had proof and he was caught, and his reason for doing it was “he was bored”. he said he was sorry but he wasn’t truly apologetic - he either didn’t fully realize the scope of how hurtful his lies and manipulations were, or he just didn’t care, but the bottom line is that he always chose his fantasy of liz over his actual friends. around this time, once he knew he was caught, he also deactivated his private account, but brought it back a week or so later, with all of the subtweets and tweets about liz being deleted. all of the unverified accounts that were supposed to be liz - the tumblr account, psn, twitch, etc. - were all fake and made by him, so he could make it seem more real.

even if he WAS telling the truth about being friends with liz, he still would have completely violated her privacy by the amount of “secret” things he told all of us - from her kinks/sex life, to work life, to very personal things that he claims happened to her. knowing it’s all fake though, and he made up an entire personality and life for liz that doesn’t exist??? it’s insane.

now the part with kim - she’s known gil irl for over 10 years, and has tweeted about liz all the time, about how “good” liz is to her because of gil, and that she’s the one who encouraged him to talk to her. she brags about it constantly, even though none of it is real. she also tweeted multiple times throughout 2018-2019 about how gil “finally deserves to meet liz in person”, even though gil said he met liz irl back in 2017 or so - AND that she came to texas, where he lives, to meet him and his friends. when asked about her tweets, he said that kim’s account was “messed up” and her tweets weren’t “tweeted at the right time”. one of my friends reached out to tell her and show her the proof of gil lying, because gil has been lying to her and other people irl too, and instead she mocked us, belittled us, and chose not to believe a group of women coming to her about a 30 year old (!!) man manipulating us. gil said that kim was “aware of it all being a lie for years now” to me, but i think that was another lie, that he’s STILL lying to her about it. if not, then that means that kim was also lying for many years about knowing liz too, and used it to make us all the butt of her joke, so. so much for her being an “empath” and wanting to help people but anyways!!

the last screenshot is of her subtweeting us and implying that everyone involved with liz is lying for her and gil’s privacy, even though we have proof that that simply isn’t true.

i’m sorry for how long this is, but i need people to understand how serious this is. he’s been lying for 5 YEARS now about knowing liz - about her “accidentally sending nudes” to him, that gil is one of her best friends and he would’ve been at her wedding, that she’s a huge gamer who plays with him - all of it. it’s all lies. he created a fantasy version of liz that doesn’t exist, and incorporated into his real life, his friendships both online and off, and made it his entire personality. he’s not sorry about what he’s done - as i’m writing this, he’s still on tumblr, talking in the tags to “liz” again, because he’d rather uphold his fantasy life where he’s best friends with liz when in reality, she has no idea he even exists. and if she did, i’m certain that she would be disgusted with what he’s done. he lied about her, oversexualized her, used his kinks on her which was brought onto me - someone he knew that was vulnerable and had feelings for him, manipulated people into trying to believe his lies, gaslit people to make them unable to tell what was true and what was fake, and had absolutely zero respect for any of us. he even listened to me cry to him on the phone MULTIPLE times about how insecure and worthless i felt to him compared to liz, and he didn’t do ANYTHING about it. he sat there and listened to me cry, knowing he could own up to his lie, and he chose not to. he’s not sorry about what he’s done, and he’s going to continue to spread his lies. please block him. i can’t express how much he’s hurt me, the therapy that i need to have because of him, how much he’s hurt my friends and how little he respects women in general tbh. he always tried to come off as “one of the good guys” but now i know he’s harmful and not to be trusted. he even tried to separate me from my friends, and make it seem like they’re the ones making this situation even harder for him. i’ve tried so, so many times to get through to him, waiting to see if he’d change or show some remorse or anything, but after over a year of this i don’t think he will, and it genuinely hurts me to know that. BLOCK HIM.

[x0401x]

Violet Evergarden Movie Summary

The initial plan was to make this a short bullet-point thing, but I felt like there was too much to clarify and I had no choice but use novel references to explain certain parts, so I decided to just write a normal summary. Many thanks before-hand to my friend Yuuki, who gave me all this info.

Apologies for taking relatively long with this thing. Not even I expected that I would end up writing this much. Buckle up for the ride, ‘cause it won’t be fun.

Nope, not kidding. It really won’t.

First thing I need to make clear is: this movie is one and a half hour long and divided into three parts and two different timelines: the times when Violet existed and the times after she dies. Already in the beginning of the movie, Violet is dead.

Yes, you read this right. She’s dead.

Now, I don’t mean that she’s dead in the literal sense. This is 60 years in the future. She might be alive or not, but it’s never said. However, the timeline of 60 years later is considered an era without Violet, apparently because she has retired and her “legend” is over, so to say. It’s also a time where Auto-Memories Dolls don’t exist. That’s one good punch in the face. Let’s keep counting.

The movie is sort of like a tale being read by someone else, which at some point goes into Violet’s first-person POV. The whole thing is kind of a look back on Violet’s life tragectory and how it took a new turn when she decided to continue looking for Gil despite all the mess of the TV series.

The era where Violet exists is an era where telephones are being introduced to the people, so Auto-Memories Dolls are starting to become unnecessary. I would argue that the creation of the telephone isn’t enough for an entire occupation to start disappearing so quickly, since new inventions are normally extremely expensive and not everyone has access to them (or even knows about their existence) so immediately after their conception. Realistically speaking, ghostwriters would still be important as long as there were still so many people unable to buy phones. Not to mention that this is a steampunk world where compulsory education doesn’t seem to be a thing yet, so even in the off chance that everybody can buy a phone, there would still be a lot of people who can’t read or write on their own. But all of this clearly went over the animators’ heads, so not only ghostwriters but also the mail business in general are nearing their doom in the movie.

The one looking back on Violet’s life was Ann, who was telling it all to her granddaughter, Daisy (who, by the way, is voiced by Morohoshi Sumire, the same girl who voiced the seven-year-old Ann). Ann had kept all the letters that Violet ghostwrote for her mother, as well as the newspapers about the CH Postal Company. Looks like the article was printed after Violet left CH, since she isn’t in the picture with everyone else.

In this era, CH’s main office has been turned into a museum. Nerine is shown working in it. Of course, she’s a grandma by then. Speaking of the CH personnel, Erica also quit being an Auto-Memories Doll and became a playwright like Oscar. She appears in the newspaper, though, so she probably a while left after Violet did. Taylor also appears there.

Back to Daisy, she was writing a letter to her parents, in order to learn how to properly convey feelings with written word. The message of this scene seems to be that, no matter the tools, what’s important is that we convey our feelings to the people we love.

As we see in the trailer, Gil’s mom has passed and Violet runs into Dietfried when visiting her grave on the anniversary of her death. To anyone who is wondering: yeah, Gil never went to see his mother and she died thinking that he was dead.

Nobody knew that Gil was alive. Not his mother, not Dietfried, not the Evergardens and not even Hodgins. No one.

Here’s what happened to Gil in the anime: he survived the incident at Intense, of course, but got separated from Violet in that explosion. His tag miraculously stayed on the same spot, though, as we saw in the TV series. Now, since this isn’t explained in the anime at all, I have to make it clear: the tag is that necklace the soldiers wear. It contains their names and ranks, so that their bodies can be identified even when they’re irrecognizable. Without the tag, the people who rescued Gil had no idea who he was, so he was sent to a different place to get treated. He ended up at a monastery hospital instead of the one in Enchaîné. I would debate that his uniform alone is enough to identify him as someone from the Leidenschaftlich Army, or maybe they could’ve just asked him which troop he belonged to after he woke up and relocated him to where his fellow men were, but who even cares about all these plot holes anymore? Definitely not me.

Anyway. After Gil was discharged, he ran the fuck away. Like, literally.

If anyone out there was hoping that Gil would finally have his moment to shine as the self-sacrificing, thoughtful and ridiculously kindhearted character that he is in the novel, I have bad news for you. What we had here was even worse than it being Gil’s excuse movie. It’s like the whole thing was made to drag his character so deep through the mud that he’ll never be able to get up again. There’s pretty much nothing in this one and a half hour that actually justifies what he did to Violet. I’ll elaborate on this as we go on.

Anime!Gil became a nomad and went traveling. He offed his ass to the island where that lighthouse displayed in the most recent official art is located (that’s why Gil and Violet were at the beach on the movie poster). He doesn’t have a prosthetic in the anime because, apparently, he was more worried about disappearing as fast as possible to somewhere he would never be found, and never attempted to contact anybody. So nobody knew that he was alive, hence the grave, which, as we feared, was not a fake one. His family really did think he had died.

This is a point that I have already addressed before, but that also means Gil really did abandon Violet to luck. If anything dangerous ever happened to her (as it did, and it was always very obviously likely to happen, since she was the southern army’s most outstanding soldier and quite literally fled from the military), he wouldn’t even know. If word ever got to him, it would probably be too late. And even if it weren’t, he wouldn’t be able to do anything to help her. More than allowing her to live freely, it felt like he was running away from his responsibilities regarding Violet.

Punch on the face count is currently at six.

By sheer coincidence, Violet learns that Gil is living in that island. She goes to see him and Hodgins goes with her after trying to stop her at first. When Gil finds out that they came to see him, he outright refuses to meet them. It pretty much takes the near entirety of the goddamn movie for them to see each other face-to-face. I say face-to-face because all of the following shit happens:

Hodgins goes to talk to Gil. It lasts about 20 minutes.

Gil talks to Violet from behind a door. This one is about 10 minutes.

Dietfried also comes to the island to talk to him. Also about 10 minutes.

At long fucking last, Gil goes to see Violet. But that, too, is only for about 10 minutes.

Hodgins gives him a speech very similar to what happens in chapter 8. Now get ready to fall back from your seats: Dietfried basically goes there to tell Gil that he won’t run away from taking over the family anymore, so Gil can live freely. Yes, Dietfried is officially a better Gilbert than Gilbert himself. I crave death.

So, after much ado, they come to a conclusion: Gil will stay in the island. In order to completely free himself of the shackles of his bloodline, he stays behind, living the way he wants to. ‘Cause all anime!Gil wants is to rot away alone by the sea, apparently. Now prepare yourselves, for it gets worse. Ready?

Violet stays with him in the motherfucking island.

That’s right, ladies and gents. Another fear became true. She quits her job at the CH Postal Company and goes to live with him. Well, at least, not as a housewife. She starts working with mail services in the island, and Gil helps her with it. Her life goes on like this and she dies in the island as well.

This is where the timeline after Violet passes away comes into light, parallel to the era when Violet was alive. Daisy talks about what happened after Violet left CH, as if it were a tale from the distant past.

That’s it.

The movie paints this as a happy ending. I can hardly see it as one. I know it almost looks like everything was solved, but it just got swept under the rug.

The main point that makes me sad in this ending is that Violet’s character development did a 360 degree flip. In the end, she threw everything to the air and went to live in someone who she always put before everyone else, even herself, but who didn’t do the same for her (in the anime). She’s gone to a crammed little island, where she led an uneventful life away from everyone and everything that’s ever had a positive impact on her. All she has is Gil.

Of course, he’s all she needs, but he isn’t all she should have, and that was the entire point of pushing her to go live on her own. Which is exactly what she earns in the novel: two loving parents, a father figure, a brother figure, a best friend and several other friends and acquaintances whom she formed a bond with. She has all she needs, so she doesn’t have to cling to Gil for any reason. There’s no emotional dependance on him anymore. She doesn’t need him to be whole. She just wants him because he happens to be the best person she’s ever met.

Anime!Violet is most definitely not whole. She almost got there, but then she backtracked completely. And anime!Gil... in my friend’s words, is a weakling. There’s nothing in him actually worth all this undying blind love. Sure, he’s full of regret and shit, but it’s too easy to only act upon it now, by vanishing into thin air like a coward.

The deal with novel!Gil is that he looks around at everything he has, everything that had been burdening him and killing him on the inside all his life, and decides to make use of it for Violet’s sake. He continues being family head and working in the army, amassing money and connections in order to have every means possible to protect Violet should anything happen to her. And as it turns out, he does end up having to use those means, more than once, but he will keep this up for as long as he needs to, because he lives for her now. That’s what makes him worth all the blood, sweat, tears, mental sanity and even body parts that she gave away for his sake: he pays it back. Every cent.

Punch in the face count ends at twelve. Thirteen if I include the fact that the movie ends with a last shot of Violet after she and Gilbert do a pinky swear. Looks like they were really trying to buy everyone with tears.

Oh, well.

I hope this has been a good enough summary. Sorry if I rained on anyone’s parade. I’m pretty sure we won’t get a remake ever, so I really wish we all can get over this soon.

[akampana]

Can you tell us more about the harem au? 👉👈

I had to take some time on this ask bec my THOUGHGHGHGGHTS but ill probably make several posts on this and make a masterpost just to keep it all in one place.

But first things first, as a general rule: If they've met before, they retain their memories of each other. Furthermore, the Harem au follows the FZ->FSN->FGO continuity.

How did it start?

Messy. It was extremely messy.

The harem AU has a lot to do with the order that each member appeared in Chaldea, and it definitely wouldn't have happened if they hadn't come home in this order.

Also I have one Arturia at NP1 (AND BOI DID I TRY SO HARD TO GET ANOTHER ONE BUT ALAS, the world has decided to preserve the harem)

Note: there is a significant gap between Lancer Diarmuid and CasGil

At the start, there was a large period of time when it was just Gilgamesh, Cú, Arturia and (Before the Fire)CasCu. And since she remembers the 5th HGW (FSN) she was most inclined to spend time with Lancer Cú over Gil.

Lancer Cú was essentially the first person to get close to her, but at the time she was still hung up on her first love and Cú wasn't too serious about his flirting. To him, she was a frequent sparring partner and a cute little outlet for teasing. That was it.

Gil tried (as far as his pride would allow), but it would be a long time before Arturia ever even gave him a chance.

Especially since the next person that arrived was Diarmuid. But not her Diarmuid. Saber Diarmuid.

More below

Saber Diarmuid was never shy about his affection for the King of Knights, but as much as she enjoyed his company, their memories differed. He, for one, could not understand why she always looked so guilty around him, while she did not understand why he had no reservations against her.

Saber Diarmuid came closest to starting something with the King of Knights' healing heart, but her feelings of guilt combined with the lingering love she still had for Shirou ultimately prevented them from moving forward. So, he instead got closer to someone who similarly had memories of a slightly different version of the King of Knights: (BtF)CasCu.

Then, there came Cú Alter

Because of her good relationship with the other Cú's, Arturia respects and protects Alter the same way, which pisses off the Mad King to no end because she treats him like a human. Plus, everything about her beliefs messes him up. He was forced to accept a crown of thorns and tried to raze the world to the ground knowing there couldn't be a crowd that would want him as king. She willingly accepted the burden of kingship and still ended up wanting to save her kingdom when her country turned their back to her.

This clash created a lot of tension between the two, but rather than drive them apart, it brought them closer. Close enough that Alter had the monopoly on her time. Close enough that even Master thought she would up with him after all.

Close enough to snap the other Cú's out of their stupor, because how could they lose Arturia to a corrupted version of themselves?

Saber Diarmuid was trying to spend as much time with her at this point, but suddenly master came out of the summoning room with the very person he thought could destroy all his chances.

Himself.

So now, everyone was faced with a problem. Even straight out of the summoning room, Lancer Diarmuid did not hesitate to pick up where he left off.

Gil had the disadvantage of his ill treatment of Saber during the 5th HGW, the Cú's only started bonding with her in Chaldea, but Diarmuid?

She and Diarmuid had a history that ran deep. It was obvious Lancer was full on in love with Arturia from the very start. There was no awkwardness, no transition, just Diarmuid fully taking advantage of being reunited with his Arturia.

He was the first to tell her he loved her.

And this is where Gilgamesh, who'd been slowly earning her trust be accompanying her on missions and speaking with her whenever he was able, finally snapped.

Gil could excuse her having friends. He also understood the unworthy mongrel's desire for her, because of course his dear queen would be so widely coveted.

But he was not going to stand by and watch as another mongrel took her away.

So he told her everything. How he really felt about her kingship from back in the 4th HGW, how he waited for the 5th, how bloody mad she drove him when she was away, how he felt.

And now Arturia was faced with a slew of emotions that would take time to unravel.

Gil and Diarmuid admitted their feelings. Saber Diarmuid and CasCu were beyond confused about theirs. Cú Alter was off somewhere dismissing every possibility that he was worthy of her love in the first place.

And Arturia...did not understand. She'd been so focused on the love she lost that the possibility of starting a new one was novel to her. Yes, she'd come to care for all these people so deeply, but she was hesitant to let herself feel anything more.

Maybe Shirou had gotten through to her because of his stubborn naivete, but she was still technically the same person who was accused of being unempathetic, who's to say how this would even go--

And Fujimaru Ritsuka was getting tired of their collective shit.

So like the good Master Ritsuka is, they basically ordered them to forget the drama and figure it all out. Clearly, everyone had issues they needed to settle with her, and clearly Arturia also had to figure things out on her own.

So, everyone hit the metaphorical restart button, installed a patience driver, and began again, this time with Arturia mostly aware of how they felt about her.

And that's how the Harem AU starts.

I'll continue with Part 2, including the others later on :>