#and Gil's breathing

[lovesitcomsandgaystuffs]

biblical accurate oz & gil interaction

[johix]

Looking at all your rawhide stuff I'm thinking of getting into it. Any recommendations on where to start?

start with season 1 episode 1

I'm serious. Sorry if this comes out harsh, but I don't understand how else would someone go about watching a tv series? (idk if that's smth what today's kids do... I mean... you wouldn't just read random pages of a book, right? Right?!) Sure Rawhide's practically always 1 episode = 1 full plot, but there's still the passing of time present and the bigger picture and even 'tho the authors didn't pay much attention to correct dates (we see a lot of 1869 on graves both in s1 and s5, but honestly since there's multiple cattle drives they complete - and the drives take about 6 months - I think about it mostly as 1 season = 1 year), it's obvious the time's passing and the characters and their relationships and lives are evolving.

Anyway, if you wanna watch it because of the ship, you definitely need to consume it as intended so you can see the relationship grow and the characters with it. (though, yes, there are a few eps where one of them or even neither Gil nor Rowdy are present and the plots are just meh so I'm sure I'm skipping those in my next re-watch, but srsly it would do you no good to just watch some of the good "favorowdy" eps without any particular order, I mean... no, ew, no.)

______________________________________________________________

Now the practical stuff:

don't download it from piratebay 'cause I found out the quality is shit and some eps are missing even 'tho the torrent claims it's the full season (and almost made me miss the glorious s5 ep1 "El Toro") and since 4th season the subtitles are not timed correctly

I watch/download it from old*bitchute*com - it can be tricky with the search - I found out the best way to get to the right video is just copy and paste the title of the ep u wanna watch directly from the opensubs web - and you have to let an ad play before the vid allows you to download it and sometimes u gotta refresh the site for the ad to play :D but after that it works!

and I get the subtitles from opensubs witch helps with tracking the right number of episodes (mr.tinkles over there is my hero)

also there's transcripts which can come in handy

[royaltea000]

we know that alfred is insane over gil, but is gil insane over anyone? it doesnt have to be the degree of insane alfred is

Gil is insane overall so it’s very hard to spot a difference when he’s being more so but I like to think, as all unhealthy sibling relationships go in this series - that he’s obsessed with Ludwig. Not to the extent that Ludwig is fixated on him but he’s very much an overbearing helicopter parent in his own trying to make it seem like I don’t give a shit way. He’s calmed down sooo much in modern times but I Know that boy was going through like no less than 20 lessons a day when he was born

[whumpybobbert]

Trust like the Wind - Chapter 1 - Hopeful_Foolx - The Lord of the Rings: The Rings of Power (TV 2022) [Archive of Our Own]

Elrond sickfic rec! This thing has it ALL you guys! Hiding an illness, betrayal from friends, said friends trying to apologize but failing because Elrond is hiding his illness, grief, fever, delirium, difficulty breathing, gruff/stoic character doing tender caretaking, worry, fever visions... I could go on, but I think those are the main ones.

I think it's even pretty readable outside of fandom context! It's well written, hurts my soul, and everyone should read it! Written by @celebrimbor-apologist (who I believe also has a whump blog here?) as well as several other really good stories.

[uruuk]

sometimes I pretend like I have no gripes with rings of power but.. it’s glorified fanfiction, 85% of it doesn’t happen, the elf rings being made first is canon breaking and amazon bought the wrong story rights .. but like.. I like fan fiction 🥰 and I like the stuff they did try to tie into lore (surprise, like Adar). it also managed to be nostalgic as fuck, and sue me I’ve been waiting to see sauron in fair form on a screen my whole damn life it feels like.

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

The more that is going on around you, and in the world at large pressing upon us (and there is a lot going on, right?!), the more necessary it is for us to consciously self-regulate, so that we are not literally pulled apart by forces outside of ourselves. Fortunately we have some very effective leverage-points for auto-regulating the state of our nervous system that are available to us 24/7.

Breath, for instance, is a direct access whereby you can consciously interact with the unconscious autonomic processes of our habitual states. These states can easily and inadvertently become entrained to external forces rather than our highest intentions for ourselves. If you notice you are feeling "off," that is half the battle! Before laying blame for that feeling on what someone else said or did, or on the larger and very real issues facing the world in any given moment, believe for an instant that in spite of all those that, you are capable of feeling better, and are more capacitated to deal with all those things, when you have directly addressed your own internal state of affairs. Then pay attention to your breath.

Feel your the way that at the "bottom" of your exhale, there is a quiet moment where nothing is going on at all. That's a brief nourishing vacation from it all during which your nervous system can adjust. Then notice that with no effort at all on your part, your lungs suddenly begin to fill with no effort at all on your part as the air, that nourishing spirit, rushes in and reshapes you and moves you. Observe that flashing pause at the top of that free-fill-up when, like at the peak of a roller coaster, you are neither going up nor down, but just taking in the expansive view afforded from that place. Then feel the air rush from you, again without effort, a model for "letting go," freed from constraints internal or otherwise.

This is not a "breath exercise" but rather a process of intentional self awareness in the space of the unconscious. When we choose to walk between the worlds like that, even for just a few cycles of breath, we can shift our state.

[Gil Hedley]

[michyeosseo]

Is there no CCTV? What would you do if someone saw us?  – Why would there be a security camera inside a hospital room? And if someone did see us, it is only natural for a daughter-in-law to be at her mother-in-law's bedside.

Yoon Hae Young and Choi Myung Gil as JANG SE-MI & BAEK DO-YI LADY DURIAN (2023) 1.08

[grassbreads]

Actually full disclosure, not to be a fake Mochijun fan, but the reread I finished this week was the first time I've read Pandora Hearts in its entirety since I was a teenager, and MAN it hits different now that I'm not fourteen.

I don't have the brain capacity to get into all of it now, but man. man. Experiencing the back half of Pandora Hearts with adult eyes and comparing that to your teenage half-memories is a wild time.

It's also very funny that my favorite character went from Oz to Gilbert given that I started reading this series for the first time when I was a year or two younger than Oz, and now I'm Gil's exact age.

[chryzuree]

break calling chrysi when gil’s too drunk to get home on his own (so, you know. after one drink)—not because he thinks chrysi’s the best suited for the job, but because he thinks it’ll be funny when gil wakes up at chrysi’s house, disoriented and hungover. if he’s RLLY lucky, gil will say something embarrassing and he’ll shrivel up and die!!

[teafiend]

THE PROTECTOR

GIFs courtesy of @Nungchae (Twitter/X)

favorite character from any media BUT it has to be a woman. in the tags now go (pls talk to me about your favorite fictional women pls pls pls pls)

[softquietsteadylove]

Gil gets hurt and Thena takes care of him. We need some soft content hehehe free choice and thanks <3

"You okay?"

Thena blinked. Her vision was fading on her. She looked back at Gil, who was staring at her with those big brown eyes of his. She smiled, moving away from the edge of the loft and leaning over him again. "I should be asking you that. You need to rest."

"I am," he pointed out weakly, moving his eyes around to indicate the thorough incapacitation of his body. They had gotten up the ladder on pure adrenaline. They just needed somewhere off the ground and safe for the night while the herd outside passed, or at least calmed.

The barn doors were holding, thanks to the plank of wood they had secured after all of them holding them with all their strength.

Thena had spread out some hay. They didn't bring much with them--this was supposed to be an easy day trip for supplies. She had laid Gil down, balling up her sweater under his head as the least she could do. "Let me see it."

It wasn't as if he was in a position to stop her. He grunted as she pulled on his good arm to help him sit up, although even that caused his bad shoulder some pain. "You checked it five minutes ago."

"It was not five minutes ago," she argued with him, their voices hushed. Despite the tense silence and the low shuffling of the herd outside, it was quieter in the barn than the sterile, smooth echoes of the hospital. Not that they didn't long to be back there at the moment.

Gil let her unbutton his shirt and look at his shoulder again. He had tried to save one of their own earlier, even letting his arm be pulled out of the socket. But the herd had won, and she had pulled him away before he could be swallowed up too.

The swelling was still prominent. She didn't have anything to help with that, and neither she nor Kingo nor Ikaris were knowledgeable enough to pop it back into place for now. She wondered if they would even be strong enough.

"I've dislocated my shoulder before, y'know."

"Is that so?" she whispered, pulling his shirt away from him as if it would cause the injury to worsen. Already his skin was starting to change colour.

"I was maybe 14?--my dad thought it would be a good idea to make me join wrestling. Thought I was too timid, especially for being kind of a husky kid," Gil continued as she traced the edge of his swelling with her eyes. She didn't dare touch it. "Obviously, I didn't wanna do it."

"Obviously," she added, because of course Gil didn't want to fight his peers as a growing teen, probably just as sweet and shy as he was now.

"So, my first practice I tried to just go limp and play dead, but the other guy was not having it," he chuckled. She watched the shadows of his breathing against the glow of the flashlight. "He ended up popping my shoulder out, he was trying so hard. I was just happy I got to quit the team."

"Gil," she scolded him with a smile. The idea of young teen Gil, shy in a wrestling leotard and just trying to make friends crossed her mind. "I imagine it hurt then, too."

He let out a breath. He was careful about it. He was putting up a good front, but she knew when he was in pain. She had seen it enough during their time on the road. "I guess it did."

She frowned. This wasn't the kind of injury they could disinfect and wrap up. They still had to get him back to the car and then back to the hospital without incident. And this was the open road; it wouldn't be easy to mow a path for them back to the cars from here.

But she could do it.

Gil wheezed as she helped him lie down again. He forgot to pretend he was fine when he was moving, his face twisted in pain. "Bill-"

"Hey," she cut him off. She didn't even remember his name. They had only gone on a run once or twice before. All she had known in the moment was that Gil was in danger. "Don't."

"He's got a girlfriend back at the hospital," Gil whispered to her. He opened his eyes, staring up at the room of the barn.

She moved to lean over his face, brushing his tears away. "I'm afraid it could happen to any of us, out here. We know the risks."

They all had to know the risks. What's-his-name had signed up for supplies duty just like the rest of them had. Ajak didn't assign people roles based on whim.

Thena leaned in, pressing her lips to his forehead. He still wasn't running a fever (good). "We'll tell her together--how hard you tried to save him."

Gil shut his eyes again. There was nothing they could do about it now. "You should get some sleep."

"Hypocrite."

"Really," he wheezed again. "You're not gonna stay up until dawn just because I'm like this. We need you at your best."

Thena looked out over the rest of the barn again. She could just barely make out where Ikaris was leaning up against a pillar, although she couldn't see if he was sleeping or not. Kingo was curled up on a stack of hay, already knocked out from all the effort they exerted.

"Thena, I'm fine."

He was far from fine. He was hurt, and suddenly their days on the road weren't so far away anymore. The sting of peril was hot on their heels again. She could remember holding onto him, willing to pull off his other arm if it meant not letting go. Kingo was the one to pull them both, yanking her backpack to get them both up the hill and towards the barn.

She opened up her bag. She should have packed for the possibility of being stuck out here, regardless. They were getting too comfortable at the hospital--too spoiled. There had to be something she could use to help Gil in some way.

"Thena," Gil sighed as she pulled out a blanket. It was barely a blanket, more some ripped old sheet for acting as a trampoline if they had to drop things from a height and stay quiet. It barely covered from his elbows down to his knees. "Really?"

"I said hush," she muttered, moving on to his bag as well. She dug out the spare shirt he brought.

Gil moved his eyes as he watched her. "It's a nice idea, but I don't know if a summer gingham shirt is gonna offer much warmth."

She made sure to huff at him, pulling it on over her white t-shirt. she didn't bother buttoning it, but she did pull it closed around her. It was big enough to feel like having a blanket around her. "No complaining."

She curled herself up next to his good arm, wrapping her arms around her knees. He was right, she would need to sleep, even if it was nodding off for a few minutes at a time. But she couldn't take her eyes off the opening to the loft. Even after she had worked her absolute hardest to pull the ladder up with her, the thought of seeing something poke a gnarled, nightmarish head up and look at her-

"Thena."

She inhaled sharply. She was falling asleep by the second. Her head tilted and she nearly flinched at the dry, borderline icy look Gil was giving her. "I'm fine."

"I'm not asking you to sleep," he pleaded with her. His good hand moved until he could tug at the shirt of his she was wearing. "Just lie down, please."

She buried her nose in the collar of it. In truth, she was exhausted, and being tired made her feel cold. But more than that, this shirt smelled like Gil, and their room at the hospital. And she needed to feel that, right now.

Thena shifted her weight, lying down next to him, still basically curled in the fetal position.

Gil was most certainly straining his eyes to look at her. But he smiled. "Feels like old times, right?"

Times when she would be unable to sleep because she had something far too precious to protect? Yes, it did feel remarkably like that. It felt like when she watched him sleep the entire night after he got grazed by a bullet, or when she watched him sleep as his fever get worse and worse.

Sometimes she still woke up from that nightmare, unable to stop herself from checking if his forehead was hot.

The thought spooked her again. The next time she fell asleep she probably wouldn't flinch awake after a few seconds again. Gil was lying flat on his back, his eyes closed. His breathing seemed even. She shimmied closer as best she could. Just once more couldn't hurt.

She touched the back of her hand to his forehead; no fever. She leaned up and touched her lips to his cheek; a little scruffy, but warm and living. With that, she could lie down beside him, not resting on him but pressing her forehead to his arm, just to have some contact with him. This was the only way she could rest.

Tomorrow, she could worry about getting Gil home again.

[gregsanders118]

Everytime I think about how Grissom canonically likes to draw, it makes me wanna cry . I’ve probably made this exact post somewhere else multiple times but i Don’t care.

I miss him.i Feel like this. I need to draw Immortality Griss

[valarhalla]

YMCA in Akkadian (Ancient Babylonian), as written by Gilgamesh's exasperated tourism minister trying to attract more gay guys to Uruk to keep Gil distracted from politics:

.

Eṭlū!- Young men!

Lā tuštamarraṣā- Do not, do not be troubled!

Aqabbi, eṭlū!- I said, young men!

Lā lā taṣallalā- Do not, do not lie down!

Aqabbi, eṭlū!- I said young men!

Šunu ina ālim- You are in a town,

Bēt bēt šikārim ḫanbā- Where taverns sprout luxuriously,

Eṭlū!- Young men!

Ina ālim alkā- Go to the city,

Aqabbi, eṭlū!- I said young men!

Bēt kaspī ul tīšâ- When you do not have money,

Annikīam tuššabā- Here you can dwell,

Bēt napṭirim nīšu- We have guest-houses,

Itti awīlī umtallâ- They are filled with men….

.

Taḫaddâ ina - You’ll have fun in

𒌋𒊏𒌋𒅗 U-RA-U-KA! - U-R-U-K!

Wašābum ṭāb ina - The living is good in,

𒌋𒊏𒌋𒅗 U-RA-U-KA!- U-R-U-K!

Ziquratum elâ! Purattum amrā!- Climb up the ziggurat! See the euphrates!

Šikārum ṭābum šitâ!- Drink fine beer!

Taḫaddâ ina - You’ll have fun in

𒌋𒊏𒌋𒅗 U-RA-U-KA! - U-R-U-K!

Wašābum ṭāb ina - The living is good in,

𒌋𒊏𒌋𒅗 U-RA-U-KA!- U-R-U-K!

Amuḫḫūni šaqû! Ziqnūni ītebbū! - Our walls are high! Our beards are shiny!

Nuppu��ātunu!- You are allowed to breathe [relax]

.

Eṭlū!- Young men!

Eṭlū šimeanni!- Young men listen to me!

Aqabbi, eṭlū! Agana šimeanni!- Young men! Come on, listen!

Aiālam terrišāšu- You desire assistance,

Shū ali īde- This I know for certain!

Šārqum wērum ul ninaddinkunūti- We will not sell you poor copper,

Eṭlū! Ālum ša Uruk bani- Young men! The city of Uruk is beautiful!

Aqabbi eṭlū! Bālātka tezzibši!- I said young man! Leave your pride behind!

Nušallakkunūti- We cause you to go,

Ina Uruk alkā!- Go to Uruk!

Ūmum anniam iseddūkunūti- Today they will help you…

.

Taḫaddâ ina - You’ll have fun in

𒌋𒊏𒌋𒅗 U-RA-U-KA! - U-R-U-K!

Wašābum ṭāb ina - The living is good in,

𒌋𒊏𒌋𒅗 U-RA-U-KA!- U-R-U-K!

Šarrum šitpiṣā! Ittmalûšu ṣālā! - Wrestle the king! Fight with him!

Ittīšu mekkê mēlilā!- Play ball with him!

Taḫaddâ ina - You’ll have fun in

𒌋𒊏𒌋𒅗 U-RA-U-KA! - U-R-U-K!

Wašābum ṭāb ina - The living is good in,

𒌋𒊏𒌋𒅗 U-RA-U-KA!- U-R-U-K!

Ziquratum elâ! Purattum amrā!- Climb up the ziggurat! See the euphrates!

Šikārum ṭābum šitâ!- Drink fine beer!

.

Eṭlū! Bilītkunu īde! - Young men! I know your burdens

Amtaraṣ! Ina šinigī- I was unwell, in my village,

Ātanaḫ! Erēšum ezzēr- I was tired, I hated plowing,

Awīlum ana yâšim iṭeḫḫe- A man to me approached,

Inūšu! Awātum awânim- Then! Words were said to me,

Šumašu, Sîn-lēqi-unninni- His name was Sîn-lēqi-unninni!

Ina Uruk alkā! Iqabbi ana yâšim- Go to Uruk! He told me,

Ina Uruk awīlī ūterrešū- In Uruk men are needed…

.

Taḫaddâ ina - You’ll have fun in

𒌋𒊏𒌋𒅗 U-RA-U-KA! - U-R-U-K!

Wašābum ṭāb ina - The living is good in,

𒌋𒊏𒌋𒅗 U-RA-U-KA!- U-R-U-K!

Ziquratum elâ! Purattum amrā!- Climb up the ziggurat! See the euphrates!

Šikārum ṭābum šitâ!- Drink fine beer!

.

Eṭlū!- Young men!

Addāniqa tallkānim- Please come

Aqabbi, eṭlū!- I said, young men!

Inam anniam ezêršu- I hate this job…

Aqabbi, eṭlū!- I said, young men!

Anāku ānḫāku - I’m so tired….

Bēt bēt šikārim ḫanbā- Where taverns sprout luxuriously,

Taḫaddâ ina - You’ll have fun in

𒌋𒊏𒌋𒅗 U-RA-U-KA! - U-R-U-K!

(Šarrum lillam ina - The king is an idiot in

𒌋𒊏𒌋𒅗 U-RA-U-KA!- U-R-U-K…)

Ao3 link

[doodle-pops]

When You Disappeared After A Fight And They Thought You Left Them

Headcanon: Celebrimbor, Finarfin, Finrod, Glorfindel, Elrond, Gil-Galad

A/N: I realised it’s been far too long since I last wrote for Celebrimbor and Gil-Galad. Don’t worry, no crazy angst, just humour, and hurt/comfort.

Synopsis: After a heated argument, you decided to take a walk to clear your head, only to end up getting caught in a storm, resulting in your absence for a week. They, on the other hand, thought the worse until your return.

Masterlist | Navigation

Celebrimbor

You stepped through the doorway soaked to the bone, your cloak heavy with rain, and boots caked with half-dried mud from the trail. Your fingers were numb by the time you pushed open the forge door, the hinges groaning in a way that made you wince. There was a moment you expected anger, or worse, indifference. But what you got instead was the echo of something heavy crashing to the floor, followed by the very loud, very uneven clatter of tools spilling everywhere.

There he was, Celebrimbor shot around the corner like he’d been fired from a war bow. His hair was a mess, half-tied back with soot streaking his cheek, and the look on his face—pure disbelief.

“You—” He stopped dead in his tracks, clenching and unclenching his jaw. Then unhinged as though a dozen words had just jammed up behind his teeth, he took a shaky step forward. “You’re alive?”

You blinked at him. “What?”

He strode to you without hesitation and grabbing your face in both calloused hands, eyes darting over your soaked features like he couldn’t believe you were real. “I thought you left. You didn’t send word. You didn’t—by the Valar, I thought you were dead or that you—” He sucked in a ragged breath and pulled back, fists clenched. “I thought you left me. Because of what I said.”

Brushing wet strands of hair out of your face, you rolled your eyes. “Because you acted like a stubborn ass and I didn’t feel like getting struck by lightning trying to hike back here during a bloody storm?”

He stared at you like you’d grown a second head. “Storm?”

You gestured at yourself, dripping onto the floor. “Yes. Storm. The week-long monsoon from hell? Trees falling, floods, livestock floating by? What, did you think I was tanning in Ereigon?”

He didn’t say anything while his brows furrowed deeper and hand slowly rose to rub over his face like he was trying to scrub away his shame. “I thought—” He looked away. “I deserved it. I said too much. I was cruel. I...I never should have said those things.”

You dropped your cloak with a thud. “No, you shouldn’t have. You were an ass. You said I never understood your work. That I was only here because I liked the forge’s heat and the free jewellery.”

“I know,” he cut in, wincing. “I know. It was vile. I was angry and—”

“No. You were scared,” you said, stepping into his space, glaring up at him. “Because I told you you’re not a god, and your projects don’t get to eat you alive. And instead of listening, you threw that in my face.”

He sagged visibly. “I haven’t slept in a week. I couldn’t. The bed didn’t feel right without you in it. The forge didn’t sound the same. I couldn’t tell if I was hallucinating you or remembering you wrong. And I’d come home every night hoping you’d be here, and every night the door stayed shut.”

You raised an eyebrow. “So...you missed me?”

His expression was dry enough to bake bread. “I was halfway to building a replica of you from spare chainmail links and cursing your name the entire time. So, yes. I missed you.”

You crossed your arms with a slow smirk forming. “And?”

“And I’m sorry,” he said quickly, eyes holding yours. “I’ll never say anything like that again. Even when I’m angry, especially when I’m angry. Because losing you—thinking I’d lost you—it wasn’t just unbearable. It made me realise I care about us more than I care about anything I’ve ever made.”

You held his gaze letting him squirm a moment longer out of a quest for satisfaction, then stepped forward and shoved your cold, wet face against his chest. “Good. Because if I’d made it home and you were off brooding in a cave somewhere, I’d have gone back into that storm and hoped for a lightning bolt.”

Releasing let out a short, breathy laugh, his arms wound tightly around your waist. “Remind me to temper my mouth next time.”

“I’ll temper your ass next time.”

“Already sculpting the armour for that, love.”

Finarfin

You opened the heavy front door, expecting silence. Maybe even the stern face of a king trying to pretend he hadn’t cried into a dozen embroidered handkerchiefs. But what you weren’t expecting was to be immediately tackled by golden robes and a blur of hair smelling like lilac oil and nervous sweat.

He squeezed you so tight your spine protested audibly. “Yavanna’s tits, you’re alive!” he gasped against your shoulder, and you had a split second to marvel at him swearing before your feet left the ground.

“Put me down!” you protested while poking his shoulder. “I’ve just walked six leagues through wet forest—I probably smell like moss!”

Suddenly releasing you, his hands moved to cup your face, eyes frantic. “You disappeared. No word. Not even a note. I scoured the coastline. Sent birds. Rode out with the guards. I interrogated a goose herder because he thought he saw someone matching your description two days ago.”

“A goose herder?” you asked, deadpan.

“Bribed him with a wheel of cheese and four loaves of honeyed bread.”

You blinked. “You bribed a man to tell you where I went using baked goods?”

“It’s what I had on hand!” he snapped, then let out a breath and took a half step back. “Where were you?”

You peeled off your dripping cloak and stepped out your soggy boots. “Nearby village. Storm rolled in hard. Bridge collapsed. I was stuck for days before someone even managed to repair the road out.”

He stared, clearly dumbfounded. “You didn’t leave?”

You levelled him a look. “Of course not. Just because you said I had the diplomacy of a drunken orc doesn’t mean I’d up and vanish. I was angry, not deranged.”

His face went sheet white. “I—oh.” He dropped into the nearest chair like his knees had turned to pudding. “You were just stuck. Not gone.”

“I would never just leave you like that,” your muttered in an obvious tone while crossing the room to plop yourself into his lap, and flick his nose. “Although, if you ever talk to me like that again during an argument, I will exile myself. To Angband.”

“I was furious, and stupid, and possibly drunk on elderberry wine. But the moment you were gone, I felt like a hollow man playing king to a room full of ghosts,” he grunted, voice muffled as he buried his face into your neck and arms around your waist, squeezing you tightly.

“You didn’t change the bedsheets.”

He looked up. “Of course not.”

You softened, fingers slipping through his hair. “Next time, trust me to come back. Storms pass. Tempers cool. But you are my home.”

His mouth curled into a small, sheepish smile. “Even when I say utterly regrettable things about your tact?”

“Especially then. Because someone’s got to keep your golden head from floating too far off your shoulders.”

“I shall make it up to you.” He pressed a kiss to your jaw. “Name your price.”

“Hot bath and food. And I’m choosing the bedtime story tonight.”

He grinned. “Even if it’s the one where I accidentally insulted a goose herder and got smacked with a bread roll?”

“Especially that one.”

“And if I cried into my council robes?”

“Oh, I assume you did.”

“You’re never going to let me live this down, are you?”

“Not even if Eru himself demanded it.”

Finrod

The halls were obscenely quiet when you entered. The kind of silence that only existed when someone refused to acknowledge anything around them because they were still stewing. The sheer thought prompted another eye roll—your nth number for the week.

Your cloak dripped steadily onto the mosaic floor of the palace, and you kicked off your boots just inside the entrance. You hadn’t the opportunity to make it three steps before Finrod’s voice echoed coldly from the corridor behind you.

“So you do remember where you live.”

Slowly, you turned to be treated by the sight of him standing with arms crossed, jaw clenched tight, and his golden hair slightly dishevelled like he’d been dragging his hands through it for hours. Nice to see how crazy you were capable of driving him.

You raised a brow, returning the same air of authority. “Nice to see you too.”

Striding forward with an expression so thunderous, he stopped a foot away. “You were gone. A week. No word. No message from the servants. Not even a whisper from the wind.”

“I was trapped in one of the nearby humam settlements. The roads flooded, so one could leave, and the villagers were too busy tying down roofs from becoming birds in the raging wind.”

“I assumed you’d left because of our argument,” he pointed out tightly. “That you’d walked out because I pushed you too far.”

“You told me I didn’t understand what it meant to rule. That I was selfish for questioning your council.”

“I said that in anger!” His voice cracked through the room. “And I regretted it the moment you walked away! I thought, give them time. A day. Maybe two. But then three passed. Then four. The storm hit, and every rider I sent returned empty-handed—”

“You sent riders?” you questioned in softness.

“Dozens.” He scrubbed his face with both hands. “And when they found nothing, I thought maybe…maybe you left because I made you feel like you didn’t belong.”

He looked at you with all the sharpness fading into raw hurt. “Do you have any idea what it’s like walking these halls thinking you’ve destroyed the best thing in your life with a few words? I held court with a mask for six days and couldn’t remember what you looked like when you smiled.”

Your mouth twitched. “You’re being dramatic.”

“Entirely.” His tone didn’t even attempt denial. “I was halfway through composing a lament by the fifth night.”

“My goodness.”

“Yes. There were rhymes.”

You made a noise of mock horror. “Please tell me you didn’t sing.”

“I’m not saying I did.” He looked sideways. “But if I did, it was very moving.”

You couldn’t resist snorting. “You idiot.”

His shoulders sagged. “Your idiot,” he corrected, then softened his tone with an ounce of hesitation, “if you’ll still have me.”

Closing the gap, you reached up to cup his face, and his hands flew to your waist like he was afraid you’d vanish if he let go. “I would’ve sent word if I could,” you murmured. “But the weather was horrible. And…I was angry. But I didn’t leave you.”

Slowly he exhaled, pressing his forehead against yours. “Good. Because I love you. And if you had left, I’d have to write a second lament.”

“You absolute menace.”

“Still your menace.”

Glorfindel

Glorfindel appeared in the hallway like the same storm you just faced—wild hair unbraided, tunic only half-buttoned, his expression caught between fury, disbelief, and the unmistakable shine of near-tears. The moment your foot crossed the threshold, you barely had time to shut the door before the sound of his boots thundered across the floor, approaching.

“You,” he growled, pointing an accusatory finger like he wasn’t entirely convinced you weren’t some hallucination conjured by a grief-addled mind. “You vanished for a week!”

You dropped your soaked cloak with a soggy thud and blinked at him, soaked from head to toe. “There was a storm. The roads were flooded—”

“I know there was a storm!” he snapped. “I sent out three search parties! I threatened to punch Círdan when he suggested you might’ve just needed ‘space’!”

“You threatened Círdan?” you cried in utter disbelief.

He threw up his arms. “He was being philosophical at me when I hadn’t slept since the third day! I thought you were dead, or kidnapped! Or—” his voice cracked, and the rage drained out of him, leaving him standing there looking wrecked and years older.

“…Or gone,” he whispered quietly. “And I couldn’t even remember what the last thing I said to you was. Only that you were angry. And then you were gone.”

Your brows furrowed as you stepped forward, boots squelching on the wood. “You told me I was being ‘dramatic,’ Fin.”

“I meant adorably dramatic,” he muttered instantly, stepping toward you with equal urgency. “You were huffing. Your nose scrunches when you’re angry, it’s precious—and you know I’m terrible with words when I’m angry—”

You narrowed your eyes. “You called me a spoiled elfling and stormed out.”

“…Okay,” he admitted, wincing. “Not my finest moment. But I stormed out intending to return and apologise! I bought apple pastries on the way back! And when I returned you were just…gone. No note. No sign. And then the storm hit, and I kept thinking, what if the last thing you ever heard from me was—was that?”

He looked almost offended when you didn’t immediately throw yourself into his arms to console him. Instead, you wrung out your cloak and calmly replied, “You’re the one who stormed off like you were starring in a stage play.”

There a strangled noise that was somewhere between a scoff and a laugh. “I was dramatic. Fine. But—you were the one who walked into the rain and disappeared like some moody soliloquy. You didn’t think maybe sending a bird? A single raven?”

“I tried,” you replied sarcastically. “The damn birds couldn’t fly in the storm. One nearly got knocked out of the sky by a tree branch the size of your ego.”

He opened his mouth. Shut it. Then gave a grudging nod before the silence stretched. His hands clenched and unclenched like he didn’t know what to do with them. Then, with a grumble, he reached forward and tugged you into his arms.

You were still soggy, but he didn’t care.

“I’m not letting you out of my sight again,” he murmured, burying his face in your shoulder. “You’re lucky I didn’t start writing poems in mourning and have every elf in Imladris listen to me.”

You snorted. “You’d write poems?”

“Dramatic and weeping.”

“You really are ridiculous.”

“You love me.”

“…Unfortunately.”

He kissed your neck, desperate and rough. “Don’t vanish on me again. Or I will punch Círdan.”

Elrond

The moment Elrond saw you walking through the front gates of Imladris, muddy, rain-streaked, and glaring at the sky like it had insulted your lineage, he dropped the teacup he’d been holding. Not caring that it shattered beyond repair—as did his composure.

“Where in the Void have you been?”

You flinched, clearly you had been imagining this exact moment for seven storm-soaked days and still weren’t ready for it. “Well, hello to you, too,” you croaked, pushing back your hood. “You wouldn’t believe the week I’ve had—”

“You disappeared,” he cut in, striding toward you with wide, sharp eyes. “Without a note. Without a message. Even without your cloak, for Eru’s sake! And after that—”

“—ridiculous argument,” you finished. “Yes. I remember. Mostly the part where you accused me of never taking anything seriously and that being with you was a responsibility, not a game.”

He stopped in his tracks. “I didn’t mean—”

“You did,” you snapped. “And I was furious. So I took a walk for some air. Then for half an hour before the heavens cracked open, a tree fell on the road, and a lovely travelling merchant shoved me into a barn before I was flattened by lightning.”

“You could have sent a bird—”

“Oh, yes! Of course. Send a bird in the middle of a raging storm!” you exclaimed, flailing your hands in the air. “Why didn’t I think about that?”

He rubbed his face with both hands and made a sound that could only be described as part groan, part sob. “I thought you were gone. Not ‘temporarily cross and got caught in a freak storm’ gone—actually gone. I haven’t slept. I’ve started yelling at the staff. I called Glorfindel ‘ammë’ yesterday.”

You paused and raised an eyebrow. “Did he cry?”

“He curtsied.”

Well, that was the cue that broke you. You doubled over with laughter while Elrond stood there, baffled and tired and vaguely damp from standing outside in his night robe all week like some cursed spirit.

“Look,” you said, voice shaking as you sobered up, “I didn’t plan to vanish. But you hurt me. You said something harsh, I said something worse, and then I got stranded with a farmer who thought my name was ‘Moss.’”

“Moss?”

“I was too tired to correct him.”

Cautiously, he stepped closer with his eyes dropping to your feet. “I am sorry. I was harsh, and worried, and frightened.”

“I know,” you muttered. “I figured that out somewhere between the second lightning strike and the moment a goat tried to eat my sleeve.”

“Come inside,” he said softly while reaching out to clasp your fingers and guide you indoor. “You’re soaked, blue and clearly on the brink of falling ill. Your boots are—are those not your boots?”

“They belonged to a man named Oloron who lost his in the river. We swapped. Don’t ask.”

Stepping closer, he lifted his hand to cradle your face, his warm thumb rubbing your cold skin. “I missed you. The house missed you. The trees were quiet.”

“That’s creepy.”

“It’s true.”

Instinctively leaned into him without warning, and he caught you without hesitation, arms dropping to warm around you like he thought you might vanish again if he didn’t anchor you down.

“Say it again,” you murmured into his chest.

“I missed you.”

“Good. Don’t forget it.”

“I won’t.”

Gil-galad

The halls of Lindon were colder than usual. Not from the biting winds or damp stone, but from your absence, resulting in the great High King from not slept in a week—he barely ate, save for the few times Elrond had coaxed him into chewing through half a honeyed fig like some pitiful, lovesick warlord. All because you two had argued. Loudly.

It first started off a something petty—maybe it was about the council and his constant dodging of your concerns, or maybe the usual ‘you don’t understand the pressure I carry’ rubbish—before escalating. Whatever it was, he’d been dismissive, you’d been furious, and by the time the shouting had stopped, so had your presence in the house.

You hadn’t left a message with the maids. No word. Not even a note. Nothing but a door left ajar and silence heavier than the storm clouds that rolled in that night.

For two days, he searched, storm or not. Rode halfway to Forlond and back with soaked boots and a bruised ego. It didn’t matter that the rain pelted like knives or that his guards warned him of landslides. You were gone. You could have been dead for all he knew, and the last words he’d thrown at you had been, “If you can’t handle this life, perhaps you shouldn’t be part of it.”

Beautiful. Regal. Worthy of carving onto his tombstone, right next to Beloved Idiot.

So when the front door creaked open on the eighth morning, dripping with mud and exhaustion, and you stumbled in with your cloak barely clinging to your shoulders, Gil-galad froze mid-pace on the staircase.

“...You have three seconds to explain before I start wailing like a widow.”

You blinked at him, water streaming off your nose. “I got stuck in a bloody storm,” you grumbled. “The bridge collapsed, the path to Lindon was flooded, and the only inn in the village had one bed, and a family of six already in it. So, I’ve been drying socks by the hearth of an old woman named Sarah who thought I was some war orphan.”

“You didn’t think to send someone?”

“In the raging storm?”

“Birds fly in storms!”

“Yes, foolish Birds who have a death wish.”

He stomped down the stairs. “Do you have any idea what I thought happened? I buried you in my head five times! I thought you were dead, or worse—gone. Just…left.”

“Well that’s romantic.” You threw your arms in the air, which would’ve been more dramatic had you not slapped a soaked glove into your own face. “Why would I just leave?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” he barked, sarcasm thick. “Maybe because your husband said something truly wretched and didn’t even apologise before you vanished into a torrential abyss?”

Your glare could’ve melted mithril at this point. “I was going to come home after a day, but then mudslides happened and cows started floating down the river like logs, and some bloody elf thought that was the perfect time to lecture me about duty and whether I’m ‘suited’ for this life!”

He winced. “...Yes. That would be me.”

“No shit.”

You both stared at each other, soaking wet and shaking for very different reasons. But then he stepped forward and flung his arms around you, his warrior-made body weighted upon yours and solid against your weary bones.

“You’re freezing,” he murmured into your hair. “And probably hungry. I left stew on the fire. It’s awful. I overdid the garlic. But it’s warm.”

You stifled a laugh at the absurdity of him assuming you would leave him, unsure whether to cry or punch him. “You thought I left.”

“I did. And if you ever actually leave without a message again, I’ll throw myself into the sea.”

You snorted while attempting to gently pry him off so his attire wouldn’t be drenched and smelling, however, he resisted your efforts. “You’d float. You’re too full of hot air.”

“Not the sweet reunion I was hoping for,” he muttered, burying his face into your neck. “But I’ll take it. Just don’t go running off without me.”

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[parme-san]

WHATTTTTT

(work voice) im stunned and offended that you would insinuate i have some kind of "crush" on spongbop. i just like stuff. hasn't anyone ever heard of liking stuff? (sneaking out my phone under the counter and logging onto my blog) dear 1000 people who don't give a fuckk, today i was in love with that square again

[angsty-art-ist]

been slow cooking a NMPD Monster High AU in my brain for a while now, so here are the nerds! height chart and design notes under the cut :]

Richie:

he’s a gillman/water monter (from Lake Michigan specifically) because of his fisher vest and the ‘wanna join the swim team’ line

in MH canon, freshwater monsters can’t breathe air, so he has a breathing aid around his neck like G3 Gil

cephalopod eyes as a nod to how he and Wiggly are both played by Jon

don’t ask how his fins go through the fishnets i truly forgot until i had already finished drawing him

it’s not shown here but he has pointy teeth like G3 Lagoona!

Ruth:

she’s a simulacrum/Frankensteinoid because of the planned NMT3 story ‘Frankenruth’

giant bolts inspired by Franken Fran’s Fran Madaraki that connect to her headgear and a sweater inspired by Soul Eater’s Franken Stein

shoes are lifted directly from a G1 Frankie fashion pack because they looked cute

one white streak like the Bride of Frankenstein rather than Frankie’s all-over highlights

not sure if the ‘mad scientist’ that re-animated her should be Hidgens or not. i think they would make a fun family duo… maybe that’s where she gets her love of musical theatre?

Pete:

he was going to be ‘son of the Goatman’ but i thought a ghost fit better :) no particular reason :)

the boxes on his chains are based on the Lament Configuration bc i always associate the Spankoffskis with Hellraiser

he’s always slightly translucent, but gets more visible in low light. he glows in the dark too!

his ghost was bound to Hatchetfield high after his death, for some reason. he’s been here a while- at least since bow ties were in fashion

no, those aren’t detention chains- this isn’t Haunted High. in the AU, in the living world, ghost chains work a bit differently