#but Gil has never been more proud of himself

[softquietsteadylove]

omg I love possessive Gil in your 10 things AU so much🥵 can you please write more smut like that? (with any AU you want)💌❤️‍🔥

Thena laughed at the man's joke, who was happy to receive her payment with a sleek smile. His hand even floated down to her shoulder. Their exchange continued, but that hand felt the need to linger.

Gil watched it the entire time.

Thena was on her doctor mandated break, from both performing and even teaching for at least two weeks. He was happy to take care of her at home, but almost at the end of her time off, she was getting restless. So, seeing a show seemed like a great idea.

Thena had a great time--at least he thought she did. He had asked if she knew anyone in it but she hadn't recognised any names from the show program. That made this even worse.

The male lead had just happened to recognise Thena, purely from running in similar professional circles. Gil was proud of it! She was an amazing ballerina, of course she should be recognised for it. That wasn't the problem. This guy was the problem.

"I'm honoured I could finally meet the Swan herself," he schmoozed right in her face.

Gil tugged at his tie. He called her that, thank you.

"I've seen so many of your shows, I should be the one dying to meet you," he continued. His hand left Thena's shoulder, but only to trail down her arm to clasp her hand in his. He was really pushing it.

"Nonsense, you're the crown jewel of your company," she countered his flattery, although she hadn't yanked her hand out of his yet, much to Gil's distaste.

"If only I were the crown jewel of yours." Okay, this guy definitely knew what he was doing. Gil stood straighter as the man even raised Thena's hand to his lips.

"Oh," she blinked, blushing faintly as he did so.

Gil cleared his throat loudly. He had stood by for enough of this. He moved in without a thought to the jostling of everyone. He elbowed the man out of his way and captured Thena's waist in his arm. "Sorry, we're late for something."

"Gil!"

"Of course," the man sighed dramatically. He waved as Thena was dragged away from him. "It was a pleasure, ma cherie!"

"I'll show you pleasure.

"Gilgamesh," Thena huffed as he ushered her into an empty dressing room and slammed the door behind them. "What is-!"

He pulled her close, taking her lips in his. He cushioned the back of her head with his hand, although her back hit the door as he pressed as close as he could get.

Thena moaned against his lips, their tongues moving fluidly and her hands on his cheeks. Her shoulders bunched up, surprised by his urgency.

He moved his shoulders, eager to get her elbows out of his way. He moved his hands from her waist to grasp her behind through the light layers of her pretty dress.

"Gil!" she all but yelped. He hoisted her, hands grasping her behind so he could move them from the door to the mirror. He plunked her down onto the table of it, her shoulders pressed against the cold glass. She gasped. "What are you doing?!"

But he wasn't in the mood. He was in a very different mood. He grasped the insides of her knees to help them wind around him. These things were the perfect height. "You want pleasure?"

"Gil," Thena attempted to scold him, but he could watch the tiny twitches in her face as he trailed his hand up the inside of her thigh.

"You can have it," he breathed into her ear. He dragged his teeth over it, enjoying the flush of red that followed. She shivered. He used the other hand to trail over where he had watched that asshole do exactly the same. He would replace that man's touch on Thena's body with his own. "Because you're mine."

"Gil," she bit her lip as he latched onto her neck. His one hand continued to trail lightly from her hand up to her shoulder, back and forth, up and down, so lightly it was almost ticklish. But he reached her shoulder and planted it more firmly. "We can't."

"What did I just say?" he whispered roughly, his other hand reaching its goal and easily pushing aside the white lace she was wearing. He remembered it well; he had watched her select that exact set and then joke about not going.

Thena whimpered as he skipped any sort of warm up and instead pushed in just the tips of his fingers first.

"Miss Thena," he teased, pushing in to the second knuckle. "What did I tell you?"

"You're mine," she panted, her hands finally moving up his chest and around his neck to his back to pull him closer.

He chuckled. It was close enough. He liked rendering his Swan all ruffled and speechless. He dove, dragging his teeth from her neck down her clavicle to her cleavage. "I said you're mine."

Thena let out a deeper moan as he pushed his fingers in completely, simultaneously using his teeth to drag down the front of her dress. It had been sitting just off her shoulders, teasing him all night.

He reached for the back zipper, freeing her breasts completely. Its tightness had offered her some lift. He admired the way they bounced, now at gravity's mercy again.

"Gil, please," she whimpered, moving her hips with his fingers.

He could multitask. He continued to watch the rhythm of her breasts, eventually bending his head to take a nipple between his teeth. He bit a little more firmly than necessary. Her back arched but he pushed his thumb into the dip of her collar bone, not needing any pressure to keep her shoulders against the mirror. It was fogging up.

Thena whined as he pulled his fingers away. She was panting for breath and a light sheen was fighting the setting layer of her makeup. "Jealous and a tease?"

If he could give her behind a little smack, he would. But he kept her firmly planted on it, deliberately pulling both hands away from her to undo his belt. She watched with hunger in her eyes. "This what you want?"

She nodded.

He undid his suit trousers, pulling himself out and grasping himself at the base. Fuck, he was hard. "Say it."

"I want you," she managed, her voice full of breath.

He bent her knees more, forcing the skirt of her dress up and out of his way. He gripped the flesh of her inner thigh, a fine mix of natural fat and firm muscle. It clenched as he massaged little circles with his thumb closer and closer to her hip. "Ask for it."

A flash of stubbornness passed over her. He raised his eyebrows, just touching his tip to her warmth.

Her eyes lowered as she looped her arms around his neck, "please, Gil?"

"Please," he moved closer to her ear again, letting her fold her swanly form around him. He nipped at her earring, "what?"

"Please," she whimpered again, the red from her ears shooting down her neck. "Fuck me."

"Good girl," he congratulated her as he pushed in. She moaned, her knees tightening around him before stretching out and then closing in again. "You're mine, aren't you?"

"Yes," she gasped, her whole body adjusting to him in this position as he kissed along her throat.

"And this," he grinned, rolling his hips and hitting up and forward within her. Oh, this was a good spot. She tightened around him and he nipped at her cleavage again in thanks. "This is mine."

"Yes," she moaned, trying to urge him into moving more.

He leaned forward, pushing them both more firmly against the mirror behind them. It was completely fogged up from their heat now. Thena's bare shoulders squeaked against the glass. "All mine?"

"Yes," she whined, digging her heel into the back of his thigh.

"Say it," he teased again, moving lightly, as if they had all the time in the world for him to fuck her in a strange theatre full of other patrons.

"I'm all yours."

"Good."

Gil slammed their hips together, picking up a completely frantic pace. He gripped his arm around Thena, keeping her at the perfect precipice, close enough to the edge for him to push all the way in but also safely planted on the counterspace. These things were not meant to be fucked on; he could hear the braces of it in the wall as they moved.

Thena made a buffet of sounds for him to enjoy. Her head rotated between leaning down, searching for him, and pressing the bun in her hair against the mirror, smearing the steam. "Gil!"

He ran his hand down her arm again, bringing her hand to his lips, then her wrist, then up her arm. "Mine, mine, mine."

"Yours," she repeated back to him. He wasn't sure she was really in the depths of territorial need like he was. But so long as she was enjoying herself, that was what mattered. "Fuck, Gil, I'm-"

"Coming?" he snarled, trailing his tongue from between her breasts and up her neck. He nipped at the sharp angle of her jawbone. "On whose cock?"

"Yours," she answered again, although her voice was so breathy and high in pitch it was getting hard to hear her.

"Say it," he grunted, changing angle, pushing the top of his head down and burying his face in her breasts. Her fingers ran through his hair.

"Your cock, yours," she obeyed, pulsing around him frantically. He gripped her hips and pulled her, slamming and grinding them together where they were joined. Her shoulders slipped down and she gripped the corners of the counter edge as she came.

Gil held her by the waist, lifting her bottom half completely to keep them firmly joined. He came with her, both of them erupting with nowhere to go. He opened his eyes slowly, coming down from the high as they both gasped for breath.

The skirt of her dress pooled around their hips and drooped down from where he was holding her. But he heard a faint dripping sound that made him feel positively feral.

Thena attempted to call out his name, but she was shaking all over, especially her arms. He moved closer again, helping support her again. She leaned over him, her back to the mirror and her front to his chest. She whimpered as he slipped out of her.

Gil examined the damage, slipping her panties back into place, not that she didn't squirm at that. He glanced briefly at the floor as he stuffed himself back into his trousers and did up his belt.

Thena cleared her throat. He looked at her and she looked positively scandalised. Although, her glaring and pouting would do a lot more if she weren't so flushed, and such a cute shade of pink. "Gil."

He chuckled, knowing exactly what she was asking. "Yes, Miss Thena."

She looked away as he wiped the evidence of them off the floor. Her legs were crossed and she was gripping the skirt of her dress over her lap. "I like this dress, you know."

"I'll have it dry cleaned, Gorgeous," he promised, kissing her cheek as he gently helped her slide off the counter. Her heels hit the floor but they clattered and skidded as she struggled to stand upright. "You got it?"

She grumbled into his chest, trying to find the strength in her knees.

"Hm?" he hummed, observing the top of her head and how even her bun was a little messed up now. He picked at it, trying to make it seem more deliberate. She swatted his hand away.

"I said you were insufferable," she huffed as she finally managed to take two straight steps without wobbling.

No, watching some stranger paw at his girlfriend was insufferable. This was quite pleasurable, if he did say so himself. He tilted his head as Thena paused at the door. "Sweetheart?"

She turned, positioning herself behind him. "Tell me if it's all clear."

His poor Thena. She could be so adventurous at times, but when it came to the consequences of their lovemaking, she would prefer not to deal with them. He gripped the handle, ready to strut his stuff.

[beethebisblog]

The boys all being big brothers except shy guy is perfection.

Betty and Gil being siblings is unexpected but adorable!! Their sibling banter was hilarious, and accurate. Gil and his crush on Olivia is actually adorable. The fact that he has five sisters makes the way he treats women in comparison to the other guys in the show make so much since. Also the way he would not let Richie steal Potato’s dad’s lucky dollar was so sweet :( “I’ve been the man of the house since I was eight years old and I’m exhausted” 😭😭😭

Potato taking care of his younger siblings and letting his dad sleep :( he’s so sweet. It makes his funny guy friend persona make so much more sense. He is such a good guy. The way he loves his dad :( his dad’s ptsd affecting the whole family :(

Shy Guy boxing is such a juxtaposition to his personality, but it makes sense. He’s a big sweetheart and later in the episode when Richie tries to use his size for intimidation purposes, you can really see how much that hurts him. He’s just a big teddy bear. He’s so valid for standing up for himself in the parking garage.

Richie 😭 him having no clue how to regulate his emotions😭 him getting the whole group in trouble and them trying to stop it 😭 him beating himself up in the parking garage 😭

THE WAY THEY ALL CRY TOGETHER BUT ARE LIKE IM NOT CRYING AND THEN THE DUST THING SO THEY CAN HUG WITHOUT HUGGING 😭 it’s so representative of the way boys and men are taught to not show their emotions at all and so they have no healthy way to process it.

The way they were so proud when Shy Guy did his lines 🫶

Buddy’s journey this episode was so necessary for him as a character. He’s the good guy, rich kid character that’s never really had to try for anything and learning that there’s a reason he didn’t have to try is devastating. He feels like he has never done anything to deserve anything he has and now has to process that.

His solo was really good. I’m glad he stuck up to his dad. He’s still not my favorite because every time he seems to be making a real effort to change, he seems to take a step backwards.

We love open and honest discussions about our feelings. Good job for not pushing, I’m actually really proud of Richie.

Also: last episode when they were like “Cynthia and Hazel are so the same size” brooo ain’t no way

[wyvernquill]

One more snippet of the Dreamling Anastasia AU

...in which we witness Hob and Murphy's very first conversation (spoiler: it doesn't go well). Please enjoy!

Link to the Masterpost!

(Tag list, let me know if you want to be added or taken off: @10moonymhrivertam @martybaker @globglobglobglobob @anonymoustitans @sunshines-fabulous-legs @dreamsofapiratelife @malice-royaume @kcsandmanfan @acedragontype @okilokiwithpurpose @tharkuun @silver-dream89 @i-write-stories-not-sins-bitch)

---

For a moment, the scene unfolding before Hob makes him think he’s stepped into a fairytale - or perhaps a sweet and strange dream, haunting you ever so gently even after waking.

Once upon a time, thinks Hob, there was a Dream King draped in a cloak of midnight, and he held court over the ravens in a silver-winter forest under heavy, snow-laden boughs…

But then he blinks, and the silly, fanciful vision fades. The cloak is but a dark coat three sizes too large and marked by at least ten years’ worth of dirt and wear, the forest only a small and pitiful park fenced in by roads, and the snow a dirty grey, barely more than half-melted sludge where countless feet have trodden it down.

And the Dream King is only some beggar called Murphy, of course, uncanny resemblance be damned.

But there are ravens. Birds of all kinds, really, the sounds of their wings and their various songs nearly managing to drown out the noise of the city around them. Yet Hob is a practical man, and knows that they gather around their ‘king’ only because they’re clever little buggers waiting to be fed, and not thanks to any strange magics.

(Magic died when humanity rose up and brought the Endless low; and what little survived has fled, concealed itself, and would know better than to enchant a hundred or so birds in broad-if-cloud-dimmed daylight.

Magic died with Dream of the Endless, and all that is left are shadows and cheap facsimiles.

Magic died, and nothing will bring it back.)

And yet… there’s potential there, Hob thinks, as he watches Murphy draw his giant coat more tightly around himself, shivering but still holding his head high and proud, surveying the assorted fowl around him as if they were his subjects. There’s a sharp, delicate arrogance in his bearing that will serve their deception well.

And. Christ alive. He does look like him, doesn’t he. Like the Sandman himself, made flesh and bone and sweat and dirt. Made human. If Hob didn’t know, with absolute certainty… he could swear...

Ridiculous thought. Dream of the Endless would never sink so low as to get himself thrown out of a pub swearing and spitting, human or not.

Murphy’s eyes suddenly snap up, and Hob flinches instinctively, contemplates ducking behind the next tree or the column advertising the latest local plays - but the man’s gaze passes over him carelessly, long neck craning out from the ratty scarf wound around his throat as he scans the sky.

It’s the raven. The large, coal-feathered beast Murphy had with him at the pub, with the clever glint in its eye - and in its claws, it holds a whole loaf of bread, clearly pilfered from some bakery or street stall.

The raven drops the bread into Murphy’s lap, and then lands on his shoulder, cawing and nudging its beak against a sharp cheekbone in a strange avian gesture of affection.

Murphy rasps some sort of acknowledgement in his dark, hoarse voice that Hob is too far away to parse, stroking a finger along the bird’s side, before turning his attention to the bread.

His spindly, dirty fingers tear into it with the hungry desperation of a man who remembers with precise clarity when his last meal was, and also that it’s been far too long since then, and Hob’s stomach gives a sympathetic pang. He’s been there. Not so much recently - but he knows the slow gnaw of starvation, and will never forget it.

(He hasn’t gone hungry since meeting Gilbert, who’d rather skip on his own technically unnecessary meals if it meant his young human companion could eat his fill. Sometimes, Gil even hands Hob fruits he’s seemingly conjured up out of thin air, which are never as filling as the real thing, but taste heavenly enough to stave off hunger for a few more hours at least.

There must be some dream-magic there, something to do with Gil being, in all technicality, a meadow - but Hob doesn’t think about it too much. It’s sweet, the actions of a friend who truly cares, and that’s enough for him.)

Murphy raises the first morsel of bread up to his mouth…

…and feeds it to the raven.

Hob blinks.

Watches, as the man takes his own bite, chewing ravenously, and then tears another bit off the loaf, throwing it to the ground, birds immediately flocking around it, picking for their share.

The process repeats. Murphy goes through the entire loaf that way. One bite for the raven who stole the bread, one bite for Murphy himself, and one for the flocks of birds around him. Halfway through, the raven refuses its bites, presumably full, and from then on it’s one bite for Murphy, two for the birds. It’s already not the largest loaf, and a third of it is hardly enough to sate a grown man’s hunger - strangely selfless, this Murphy character. No wonder he’s thin as a rake.

(Then again, Hob supposes there’s strategy in it, teaching the birds that they’ll be well-rewarded for any bounty they bring him.

Altruism, or shrewdness? Hob wonders.)

Soon, there’s nothing left of the bread. Murphy still looks hungry, but it’s an exhausted, resigned hunger that’s there to stay. Hob doubts the man can remember a time he wasn’t hungry. This city is not kind to the starving, to the poor - Murphy might get a place in a workhouse, if he tried, but Hob doubts that quiet pride still shining through the veil of hunger would let him. And besides, they’re dying institutions, these days, workhouses - the modern world is turning up their noses at anything that might help the destitute, even as it churns out more and more of them. It’s a dark and miserable time they’re living in, and none of the glamorous parties the rich so love to throw these days will convince Hob otherwise.

But, well. If their scheme goes off without a hitch, then at the very least the new ‘Dream of the Endless’ will never go hungry again. Hob’s doing a public service here, if you look at it from the right angle - though he’ll be the first to admit that his main motivation is anything but selfless. Immortality is too rich a prize to pretend he doesn’t want it with every fibre of his being.

And he’ll not get it standing idly by and watching, that’s for sure.

Hob straightens his coat lapels, takes off his hat to comb his fingers through his overlong hair, places it back at a jaunty angle - and walks over to finally officially make this Murphy character’s acquaintance.

“Afternoon,” Hob says, still a few steps away, smile widening into a grin when Murphy’s gaze immediately fixes itself onto him, cold and filled with the sharp suspicion of a man most people go out of their way to ignore, and who does not trust direct address.

(The eyes give him away. Dream of the Endless had eyes like midnight stars, the depths of space and the glitter of distant galaxies eternally reflected in them. Strange eyes, inhuman eyes, endless eyes.

Murphy’s eyes are a pale, washed-out blue-grey, slightly sunken in their sockets, and perfectly ordinary.

No matter - they will already have to sell some cock-and-bull story about Dream having been forced into human form, the eyes will be the least of it.)

“What do you want?” Murphy growls, and that is perfect. The voice. Easily his best asset, besides the overall look. It’s right, scratchy and roughened by disuse, but just as deep and sonorous as Dream of the Endless's was. The harsh tone and tendency to curse like a sailor Hob witnessed at the inn will need to go, to be sure, this man speaks too much like a London gutter rat and not enough like the Lord of Stories - but, well, nothing a few lessons can't fix. Nobody else ever got the voice even remotely right, and this’ll already give them a lot more to work with.

“A moment of your time, m’lord. Nothing more.” Hob affects a cheeky bow, and does not waver under the cold disdain he receives in return. Mr. Murphy’s not a fan of teasing and gentle mockery, evidently - unfortunately, that is about 50% of Hob’s personality. They’ll get on just splendidly, won’t they. “Hob, at your service. Are you aware your lady sister is looking for you?”

A quick blink, even as Murphy’s entire scrawny body and haggard face goes very, very still.

“...I do not have a sister.” He says, only the slightest edge of uncertainty and confusion wavering in his voice. And then, “piss off, Robert Gadling” he adds, uncouth and vulgar, a scowl scrunching up his face. Oh, they’ll need to train that out of him, most certainly.

(Hob has not introduced himself as Robert, and certainly not as Gadling. That Murphy has named him thus nonetheless goes over both their heads.)

“No?” Hob smiles. “You’re not Dream of the Endless, then?”

Another blink - and then Murphy laughs, a horrible dissonant sound that seems like it ought to hurt his throat, the raven on his shoulder letting out a single caw alongside him.

“Are you drunk?” He snorts. “Dream of the Endless is dead. Every child knows it.”

“Every child believes it to be so. There’s a distinction.” Hob tries to take a step closer, but the sea of birds at their feet steadfastly refuses to part for him, so he thinks better of it. “You look exactly like him, you know. You might well be.”

“And you would know that, would you?” Murphy raises an arch eyebrow. “I think I’d remember having once been the personification of dreams.”

“Oh, I don’t know. Memory can be a funny thing.” Hob shoots back. “We don’t remember being born, do we? And some lose track of even more than that. How’s your recollection of your childhood, hm?”

Ah. Jackpot. The moment he speaks of remembering and childhoods, Murphy looks away, uncomfortable. Hit a sore spot there, has he? Memory issues. How interesting. How perfectly convenient.

“...you’ve had your fun now,” Murphy rasps, shifting uneasily, no longer so willing to defiantly meet Hob’s eyes. “I want no part in whatever game you’re intending to play with the London Poor, Gadling. Fuck off, before I make you.”

“Now, now, I really do think we’re on to something, here.” Giving up, Hob knows, is for fools who don’t really want to become immortal. “I’m quite certain-”

“Fuck. Off.” Murphy repeats, and turns his pale, unfortunately-human eyes on Hob again.

So do nearly a hundred birds, feathers ruffling and beaks clacking. The raven on Murphy’s shoulder caws, low and threatening.

Hob swallows, and takes stock of his options. Wonders if tactical retreats might not be just the thing for intelligent men who don’t want to die by bird before ever getting to take their stab at immortality.

“I’m only saying-” Hob tries instead, because he’s a reckless idiot.

Murphy’s eyes narrow, and he spits out a throaty sound like a command, the flock of birds rising as one, led by his personal raven jumping into flight with a sharp battle cry.

Shit.

Gilbert glances up when Hob returns covered in feathers and bird droppings, skin smarting where sharp beaks have pecked at him until he fled.

“I take it young Mr. Murphy was not particularly amenable to your proposal…?” He asks, delicately, lip twitching around a politely-repressed smile.

“Can’t say he was.” Hob shrugs easily, only wincing slightly at the way the movement pulls on his skin. “But I think I can convince him, Gil. Given enough time.”

“If you say so, young friend.” Gil, for his part, does not look particularly convinced either. He rarely is, when Hob first pitches his ideas, but he always comes around.

And so will Murphy.

Hob knows it’s only a matter of time… and, perhaps, some clever bribery.

[valdiis]

Character Traits: Daephrin Astramente

— B A S I C S

Name: Daephrin Rosamar Astramente Nicknames: Dae, Lark, Samar, 'hey asshole!' Age: Somewhere around 32 Nameday: 15th sun of the 3rd Umbral Moon Race: Ishgardian Elezen Gender: Cisgender male Orientation: Bisexual and yes, please Profession: Sky pirate, treasure hunter, leather-worker, professional scoundrel

— P H Y S I C A L A S P E C T S

Hair: Warm black and windswept; straighter when it's very short or very long, wavy when it's a little shaggy. Eyes: Vivid emerald. Skin: Sun-tanned and lightly freckled. Tattoos/scars: No tattoos, a fading burn scar on his upper shoulders.

— F A M I L Y

Parents: Lucarian Astramente and Ilystra Rochenoire. Lucarian was a Temple Knight and Ilystra a noblewoman. When Lucarian married her, the official name of the noble house changed to his surname instead of hers. House Rochenoire was known for producing profound intellects and the Astramente line a knack for navigation. Ilystra died of pneumonia and several months later, Lucarian dropped dead of a heart attack. They say that couples in love rarely survive one another. Siblings: His older brother, Sarin, was a lancer and died in the Dragonsong War. His younger brother, Onaerion, is currently the head of House Astramente. Grandparents: Daephrin never knew them, but the Rochenoires were stiff, devout Ishgardians who had fallen on hard times and were very pleased to marry their daughter off to a relatively wealthy Temple Knight. The Astramente family was proud to count a Knight among their sons; they were mostly traders and trackers, barely a step above scoundrels but for their wealth. Wealth hides a multitude of sins. In-laws and Other: Though he is formally dating one man and unofficially entangled with another, Dae doesn't have any in-laws at this point. He has an Astramente uncle he's never met, but his mother was an only child. Pets: While he would like to have live pets one day, he fears he can't care for them at this time with his lifestyle. Instead, he has Sniffer, Spotter, and Sparrow - mammets made for him by his lover, Jaxon. Sniffer is a delightful little cat-dog mammet that sniffs out treasure. Spotter is a spider-like trap finder. And Sparrow is a bird-shaped recording device.

— S K I L L S

Abilities: Daephrin is quite a decent leather-worker, though he makes no fuss over it. More of a fuss is made over the fact that he's a crack shot with any ranged weapon of any kind (a manifestation of the Echo), including thrown knives. Just don't hand him a lance; he'll put someone's eye out. He knows Allagan programming language and technological construction. He can play piano pretty well. Hobbies: Aforementioned leather-work and Allagan treasure hunting. Airship maintenance for fun and profit.

— T R A I T S

Most Positive Trait: Dae is charming nearly to a fault. He can convince snakes to dance on their tails and Monetarists to part with their gil. He's got the perfect mix of a kind air, a clever mouth, and a fast mind; it makes him easy to trust, even when you probably shouldn't. Most Negative Trait: He is horribly, terribly self-centered. He struggles to put himself in other people's shoes or to think outside himself. He's working on it, but he's still pretty selfish.

— L I K E S

Colours: Black, gold, green. Smells: Well-oiled leather, bay rum, sun-warmed wood, his lovers' colognes (Jaxon and M'rath smell different, but equally amazing), fresh citrus. Textures: Silk, leather, black cat's fur, lacquered wood. Drinks: Whiskey, tea, hot chocolate, coffee, the occasional orange juice.

— O T H E R D E T A I L S

Smokes: Not anymore. Drinks: Sometimes. Drugs: Once in a great while, though he did more when he was younger. Mount Insurance: Uh... No? His usual mount is a motorbike, as he has not the facilities to care for an animal. (In practice, he rides a kamuy because I love them, but he wouldn't know what a kamuy is.) Been Arrested: He has so far escaped the law, but his luck may one day run out.

[thevikingwoman]

another letter reached Meryta before she sets out for the Rak'tika Greatwood

Fandom: FFXIV | Words: 786 | Read on Ao3

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

Meryta Khatin x Tansui | during A Little Faith | romance Rating: Teen. Letters, longing

LETTERS AND LONGING, PART 3

The next letter finds her at the Imperative. They’re looking for remnants of the Church of the First Light, but before she starts looking in earnest, the post moogle bounces into her view.

“I came all the way from Fort Jobb, Kupo! You better be grateful.”

She ensures it she is, and sends it off with her thanks and a plea to wait and rest at least a little, to give her a chance to write back. The moogle hums and agrees, scuttling off to rest in the shade.  It’s not been long since she sent her last letters, but when she opens it, it’s clear Tansui has received his already. The moogles – or Feo Ul – must be working overtime. Perhaps it helps to be king.

Tansui congratulates her on her win, and she’s not sure what to make of that. She fights and she wins and it’s what everyone expects. It feels different in his words, however, his expectations more like support, and less like a duty. Like he seems equally proud and concerned for her, between his teasing words. Or perhaps that he wants her to win for herself, and not because anyone else expects her to. He sounds relieved too, and it feels good to know he’s concerned.

Tansui tells news from the Confederacy, a long story about a hapless captain unwilling to let go of his cargo when met with mostly newer recruits. Until one of them had put an arrow between the man’s feet, perhaps backed up by Tansui’s scowl. His letter downplays his own role, and she can feel how proud he is of the people he trains. It had turned out that the captain had spent his very last gil on his cargo, and in a vain hope of maximizing his profits had all but forgotten about the ruby tithe. The ship’s hold had been filled with Hingan furniture bound for Eorzea, and now the Confederacy is the proud owner of gleaming red-lacquered garden benches.

She imagines it, pretty benches in the sand. Mayhap they will pass them on to Doma in a trade, but truly she does not know if the Domans need them any more than the Confederacy.

She chuckles at the story, as she sits on the stairs as she reads. Thancred passes by, a curious look on his face, but he doesn’t ask. She should help with the search, but mostly the letter makes her want to go to him again. With his letters, she knows that he did not tire of her visits, that he wants her. The thought makes her happy, warmth coursing through her. He says as much too, that he misses her, that he wants to hold her, kiss her, touch her.

She looks at the aetheryte, the sparks of aether currents humming about it. It would be so easy, to throw herself into the lifestream, to see him. To feel his hands on her.

His lips.

The warmth of his skin beneath her fingers, his beard scratching across her chest…

Minfilia bounces up the ramp to her left, a white blur of motion. Meryta shakes her head. As much as she wants to, she can’t leave now. Not even a day’s rest here, and who knows if a trip will be an hour or a week on the First. Maybe soon, when they’ve met with Y’shtola, she can find time. Or mayhap when they’ve delt with the next Lightwarden.  

She shudders at the thought. She’ll keep going, no matter how terrified she is, for the sake of those she can save, but right now her mind turns to Tansui first. His smirk and the challenge in his eyes. The affectionate words in his letters, and the appreciation in his hands.Curiously, she finds determination in thinking of him, a promise to see him again, her battles done. There’s a hunger to not only win for herself, or the scions, or everyone else; but so that she can go to him, victorious. She’ll never give up and flee a battle, that is not her nature, but this kind of longing is new.

Across the courtyard, Urianger braces himself against a heavy door. It’s probably stuck from disuse. He seems to have the task well in hand, as it swings open, and he disappears into the darkness.

She should write tonight, at least. She wonders what he’d think if she put her desires, her yearning, on paper, but she’s not sure she can find her words as easily with pen in hand as in her mind. He surely wouldn’t mind, his boldness always evident. She blushes, want running through as she think of his touch again, and tucks the letters into her clothing.

[shieldbcund]

Coerthas gradually, over time, became more and more like home to him. He'll never forget the warm sunlight filtering through the great boughs of the Black Shroud, nor the bustling of adventurers filtering through the Caroline Canopy's open arms. He doesn't forget the warmth the Shroud manifests in the lush greenery, trickling streams, and his mother's bubbling laughter in the summer nights.

He'll never forget the warmth from the Shroud, but Coerthas has started to take him in. Perhaps not the same as his homeland, but its lamplights, crackling fireplaces, and forged friendships wrought in deep conversations and tender embraces were a start.

If not influenced by his mother's welcoming and amicable nature, then it's Romilda's friendliness and patience that forged the warmth in his heart. Acceptance, too, for what is and isn't known. He can recount many afternoons sitting in the Canopy, watching the airships do their rounds and exchange adventurers like marketplace gil. Whenever he sees the highlander's silver armor and red hair, it's like Starlight all over again.

Those Starlights have come and gone; he can't remember how long it's been since seeing his knight in shining armor.

Coerthan snow crunches underfoot, slowly giving way to the Falon Nest's cobblestone. Elouan strolls up the ramp and his side aches in remembrance, but he doesn't give it a soothing touch. Instead, he walks on with Soleil as his shadow in the growing sea of people. Elou finds himself passing House Knights and adventures, a mix of greys and coppers and golds of armor, until the glint of silver catches his eyes again.

Silver shining under the Coerthan sun, not unlike the blades and spears Ishgard's knights hold at Her gates. Instead of protecting a nation, this protects a memory. Memories, many times over, that have since been drowned and lost in sand, blood, and tears.

Elouan's breath catches in his throat and his heart skips multiple beats. Is--she's still--?

She's here?

"Romilda?"

The name escapes his lips before he can close them, voice soft and easily lost to the wind. Part of him hopes it's forgotten, mistake left in the past like his memories, but emerald eyes flit from a Durendaire knight to him. Elouan swallows. He freezes.

"...Elou? Mister Elouan, is that really you?" Her voice braves the cold, bringing warmth to the highlands that the Calamity eradicated. If the scar on his side is one he wants to forget, her voice redeems the area in its stead.

He doesn't feel any braver in this moment, but feet propel him forward on the innate need to know, to understand and hopefully realize what isn't a dream and what might very well be fantasy. It starts as a tepid walk and turns into a heartfelt, anxious jog over to his childhood hero. When he finally stops a fulm before her, he's no longer looking up to him. Rather, Elouan's looking down to meet her eyes. "I--I didn't know if I'd see you again. I, and--"

Romilda reaches, grabbing his hand in hers and brings him in for a hug. The paladin gives his hand a squeeze and he's wordless, swallowing whatever stammering thoughts that surface in his head.

"You did it."

"I'm proud of you, Elouan. Or should I say Ser Elouan."

She looks up to him, smile lifting her cheeks, and wraps an arm around his side for a solid, firm hug. Elouan's muscles initially tense, but those words take all the worry out of him. He melts into her hug and holds that hand like a lifeline; if he lets go, he'd not be standing. The elezen wraps an arm around her shoulders and hides his face into her hair, holding back tears as much as he can. He fails, ever the emotional thing, as they run down his cheeks.

You did it.

He did, didn't he? After all these years, he's become a paladin. All it took was one highlander and many, many afternoons at the Caroline Canopy. Elouan tries again for words, but his lower lip quivers and his breath comes out in shaky, soft draws. She just hugs him tighter, a soft chuckle leaving her lips, as she speaks once more.

"You've gotten so tall, but you're still a soft thing. I'm so proud of you, but you need to tell me your own stories, you hear?"

"It's time I listen for a change."

[dannygpino]

What were your thoughts when it was revealed that Nick got back together and married Cynthia?

Honestly, I was only a little surprised, lol.

I thought they had continued as friends even if they had said their feelings and relationship were real in 14x17. We only saw her again in 14x24 looking as beautiful as ever.

However, it makes sense that he'd end up with someone he has history with.

Before that though, I think Nick had to do a lot of personal growth and being comfortable with himself, learning to love and accept himself. Learning that it's okay to be alone but that doesn't mean he is alone, if that makes any sense. For example, he was clearly still in touch with Amanda after he left and I don't doubt he was in touch with Olivia, Fin, and Munch as well. Maybe he tried dating, maybe he didn't. I don't think he believed marriage was on the cards for him again until Cynthia.

That said, I do not think Nick and Cynthia jumped into marriage right away, lol. Since season 14, they clearly had been rebuilding their friendship organically and both were cognizant and respectful of any boundaries the other had. He told Gil he'd talk to her when Gil mentioned they may be moving to San Diego. I think they kept rebuilding their friendship after Nick moved to California. Maybe one day, something clicked and they both realized they wanted to date the other again. They were both ready. Maybe that was a few months after he moved, maybe it was a year.

I think they dated for a while (see: years) until marriage was even brought up, even in passing. I think Nick would have to feel comfortable with himself and the relationship, and he'd make sure Cynthia felt comfortable, too. I could also see them having a long engagement, maybe another year or so until the wedding.

He is clearly very happy, content, relaxed in a way that maybe he had never been before. I would have loved to have a little more insight on their marriage in the 500th episode but that is not the Nick Amaro way.

I am glad that he married someone who loves him, knows him, will support and accept him in all the seasons of his life. Maybe even tell him how proud she is of him for how far he's come from being undercover and working at SVU to now. To contradict myself from earlier, I am glad that he didn't end up alone.

After all he went through in life, the man deserves to feel loved, supported, safe, accepted. Taken care of.

Of course, he'll do the same for Cynthia. When Nick Amaro loves someone, he loves them with his whole heart.

And he's got a big heart.

[healingagoddess]

Is this forever? (Run part 3)

Request(?: @the-camiluchaa​ said “Great writing! Do you think is gonna be part 3? I would love that, full of action😍“ and I miss Ajak, so of course I did!

Note: I had written this and had more action in it! I was so inspired and then it got deleted!! I don't know how it happened, but it just didn't save after I saved it! So, here's a quick chapter i came up with just right now. I felt really bad after it did not save, that i just wanted to post something tonight since I had planned to do so. T-T

Warnings: English is not my first language.

Pairing: Ajak/F!Reader

Tags: @fivemillioneyes <3

Part 1 Part 2

The ambiance upon arriving to the Peruvian Amazonia in your search for Druig was heavy. You kept close to Ajak, avoiding Ikaris as much as you could. Sersi tried to keep her distance and remain composed around him. She was doing amazing and you were so proud of her. On the other side, Kingo and Sprite had been at it for hours. You had forgotten how much Kingo liked to tease everybody, and it was getting to Sprite leaving her in a moody state. It was better to keep close to Ajak, who was looking after Thena along with Gilgamesh.

It was strange to see a village stuck in time, clearly under the influence of Druig. It didn’t take long to find him. And the awkward silence of the first two minutes in that chapel felt like an eternity. Until he spoke, and then Ajak revealed everything. He took it far better than you did, but it was going to take some time to convince him to join you.

“I’m not going to say anything other than I knew you were wrong.” Druig states directly to Ajak.

Ikaris gets up and gets on Druig’s face

“You have no idea what you are talking about.”

“You always wanted to be mother’s  favorite. Yet, it seems she has chosen someone else.” Druig nods towards you.

You close your eyes in annoyance, but say nothing to avoid upsetting Ajak some more. If only Druig knew the whole truth, if only everyone else did like Sprite and Sersi do. Ajak was still protecting Ikaris.

You disperse to cool off after Druig, Kingo, Ikaris and Ajak got into a heavy discussion that had nothing to do with Tiamut.

“Do you think he can do it?” you ask.

Both you and Ajak were sitting against a tree not far from Gil and Thena.

“I believe his power is strong enough to put Tiamut to sleep.”

“What happens if he can’t do it?”

“He will. I think he-”

A distant screech cuts her off, and you both immediately stand to your feet. You look at each other for a moment focusing all your senses on the distant sounds. Suddenly, you watch Ikaris being dragged by a deviant and your fighting mode activates as you begin to duplicate.

“Go with Thena!”

You shout before both you and Gilgamesh go to Ikaris aid.

You slam against the deviant and send it a few meters far away from all of you. You try to go again with a kick,  but the deviant senses your cosmic energy and charges back to Gilgamesh and Ikaris. You and your replicas end up colliding into thin air. You are quick to respond and charge back to help them both, but Gilgamesh intends  to take the deviant himself in a one on one match. You try to help, but soon are distracted by Ajak’s voice.

“Thena… remember who you are.”

You hear her soothing voice and turn to find her with her hands up in the air channeling cosmic energy. Similar to the lights forming on Thena’s face. You worry as you send your replicas after the deviant, and making your way back to Ajak. It is difficult to control both your main power and your focus on helping Ajak. You can feel it wavering as you get closer to her, slowly as to not scare Thena.

“Ikaris…” you say never looking away from both Ajak and Thena. “Help Gilgamesh.”

You see him debating for a moment and you start to lose patience.

“Go with Gilgamesh.”

You repeat yourself noting how Thena is struggling against her illness.

“I follow no orders from you.”

He says before getting in the middle of Ajak and Thena, finally getting her to act out and lose herself. They start fighting each other as Ikaris tries to stop Thena, and she tries to murder him. You feel your cosmic energy expand out your body as your replicas disperse into two directions: to help Gil and to help Ajak as you try to keep both Ikaris and Thena to stay alive as well. And it is chaos.

Your head feels like breaking into three different sections, and you are everywhere at once trying to make sense of every situation. You notice that at least five replicas are helping Gil, and three are taking Ajak further into the forest hiding from the spot that has now turned into a battle camp. You mediate between Ikaris and Thena. Suddenly, he hears something and takes off. Leaving you now with the death stare from Thena. And she comes at you at full speed with sword in hand. You have no time to think and your replicas come back to you as you try to keep Thena from hurting you and hurting herself. You barely make it the first time, but the second time she gets you with her sword piercing your stomach. And you feel the air leaving your body as the thrill sends a shiver all over your body. Pain and panic take over as you try to stay focused everywhere.

You prepare to die as Thena dematerializes her sword, expecting her to summon something bigger to end you. It never comes, instead she stands there blinking several times trying to remember something as she stares at something behind you. And in a matter of seconds she turns around with tears in her eyes, lights still forming in her eyes. Then, you see Gilgamesh being held by the deviant as it drains his cosmic energy. You try to rush to his aid, but stumble on your feet before a single replica takes after him. But it’s too late, and you watch as Thena kneels in front of Gil. In a matter of seconds, everything turns black.

_ ✽ _

The first thing you notice upon waking up is how humid your surroundings feel. Your senses spread to the rest of your body as cosmic energy still lingers there. Ajak is holding you, her face is stained with tears, and you can feel them on your face as well. She is not looking at you, instead, her broken gaze lies elsewhere. Sitting up the first thing you notice is a platinum shape; it is Thena. You get up immediately, as you remember the final encounter with the deviant. Thena sobs on the ground with her forehead pressed against Gil’s, and you confirm that he has in fact passed. No. He was murdered. Looking around you take notice of everyone else's presence with the exception of Druig. Your eyes search for that one eternal in the crowd, and when you find him a fire is set ablaze within your core. A new found rage fills your soul, and you march towards Ikaris before slamming him into a tree. This catches Thena’s attention.

“Y/N! Don’t!” Ajak rushes in your direction with pleading eyes.

“This is all your fault!” You yell out as you place your hands on his shoulder with a tight grip keeping him from escaping.

“I was just trying to help everyone else.” The words slide out his mouth with bitterness.

“No. You know what you did. It is your fault that that deviant got what it wanted.” Your furious eyes look into his icy cold ones. “Why don’t you tell them the truth?” You whisper the last part.

Ajak looks away as Sersi steps closer with tears forming in her eyes. Nobody else knows the truth other than Sersi and Sprite.

“Tell them… tell them how you tried to kill her!” The sound of your voice pierces through the forest like a thunder. “Tell them how you took Ajak to that lake with your big lies only to try to get her killed by the same deviants. How you planned for us… for ME to find her body there. All because she changed her mind about this mission.” You press him harder against the tree.

Nobody talks for a moment, but you notice everyone has gathered around keeping some distance from the both of you.

“Is this true?” Kingo asks.

Ikaris remains in silence giving the confirmation that Kingo needs.

“You don’t do that.” He says in all seriousness. “You don’t do that to family. Even if we don’t agree with their newfound plans or beliefs, we don’t harm our family.”

“He plans to get rid of everyone that comes between Arishem and his mission. He is just waiting for the right moment. And Gilgamesh was the first to pay for this.”

As you say the last part Thena gets up summoning her weapon. Ikaris pushes you away with force before taking flight. And you swear that for a moment you saw his beams forming in his eyes.  

“Coward!” Thena yells out after him.

“Wait! Take me with you!” Sprite says before materializing into an illusion of hundreds of bees as they both escape.

“They’ll come back.” Thena states.

“And when they do.” You reply.

“We’ll be waiting.” She finishes.

You go towards Ajak, who in the middle of the argument left to kneel beside Gilgamesh. Thena returns as well, and they both weep for him. The others remain talking about Sprite’s sudden betrayal. Your arms come to wrap around Ajak from behind as you place your head on her back offering support. She turns in your embrace and cries into your arms as you rock her gently in soothing and consoling motions. The sight is heartbreaking and as soon as Druig shows up a funeral is prepared.

_ ✽ _

Nobody sleeps that night as thousands of questions and thoughts from the events of the day swirl in their minds. Somewhere during the night, you find Ajak staring at the ceiling wide awake, unable to sleep just like you.

“Have you spoken to Arishem?” You ask softly.

Ajak turns to look at you slightly taken aback. “No.”

You keep staring at her waiting for an explanation.

“Every time he just informs me when the emergence will occur… and there is nothing else he needs from me. My deed is done… and that’s it.” She says lost in thought.

“Have we ever been like this?” You finally ask. “In our past lives?”

She looks at you for a moment choosing her words carefully. “No. This is the first time I experience this.”

For some reason you don’t feel sad about your past life knowing you didn’t have to suffer for Ajak at the end of times.

“But,” she continues “You are new to my missions.” She manages a gentle smile.

And you can see how she tries to smile through her tired eyes as well before you fully digest the new information.

“Wait… do you mean what I think you mean?”

Ajak nods. “This is the first time we met… so, it’s really nice to meet you.”

Tears cloud your eyes at the realization of how much Ajak has changed thanks to you.

“What was it like for you?”

“It was different… from all the times I had done this. Some come and go, and that’s alright. But you have a passion that is so unlike everyone else’s.”  She makes sure to stare deep into your eyes. “I told you this before; you make your own rules. And also,” she pauses to give you a flirty look. “You are the first one to look at me like this.”

You chuckle before getting closer to kiss her lips.

“Do you think this is our last night like this?” You ask her.

“No, I know it’s not. I have faith in Druig.”

“And then what will happen?”

“And then… we wait.”

“For what?”

“Arishem.”

“Do you have any idea-”

“We’ll sort this out. And we’ll warn everyone else in this whole universe.”

And you take her word seriously putting all your trust in her, so you nod once and kiss her sweetly before trying to rest.

_ ✽ _

As promised, during the emergence Ikaris and Sprite show up. You duplicate as soon as you see him, you launch at him with your replicas surrounding him and taking turns in puching him around. The look in his face when he corned Ajak in that cliff, her face at the realization of what was happening, Sersi's tears for him, Druig's and Gilgamesh's death, all of that is coming back to you. The pain he has caused you and your family is all coming out at this moment in the form of revenge.

After he takes down the domo, and Thena joins in the fight. You are sure that you will get him this time, at least the satisfaction of seeing him in this position is almost enough. You want more, and so does Thena as she goes for the last deviant. You have no idea how many times all of you have taken Ikaris down only for him to get back up and attack you. Ajak has been holding on her own very well, with Phasto's techonology you've been able to fight beside her. But the fear you feel as Ikaris goes after Sersi is huge, some part of you knows that he is incapable of hurting her. And it is confirmed when she completes the final puzzle and is able to continue with your plan; killing Tiamut with her bare hands and your power convined.

The glorious victory against them only makes the promise of being with Ajak forever more real and emotional. You embrace her as soon as Tiamut remains frozen in time. Your lips reach for each other and seal your forever with a passionate kiss in the presence of the celestial as you still feel its power connected to you. It feels like nothing but pure bliss, you have not just gained your ever after with Ajak, but you have saved this world and all its wonders. You celebrate your victory with the love of your life and your family. And soon you find yourself in another adventure with Ajak as both of you leave to explore the universe in search of others.

“Will you miss this world?” You ask before you leave the planet Earth’s atmosphere.

“No, I have everything I need here with me.” She smiles as she pulls you close.

“I feel the same way.” You grin with your eyes. “I’d follow you ‘til the end. Whenever that is.”

[koolkat9]

2, 4, 20!

Fun meta asks for writers

2. Tell us about what you’re most looking forward to writing – in your current project, or a future project

I have a fic planned with the idea that Gil is Ludwig's dad and him panicking over it and wishing Germania was there to guide him. We don't have enough good dad Germania which is a shame because according to canon he really loves his family.

---

4. Share a sentence or paragraph from your writing that you’re really proud of (explain why, if you like)

Oh gosh let's see...

"The icy caverns that were once Matthew’s eyes burned bright and hot like blue stars. He was no longer that little boy in the bush, and he was no longer that young dominion that needed Arthur to fall back on. He was Canada, wild and rugged, a force to be reckoned with. What Arthur had always wanted him to be. But now, he just hoped that sweet little boy was still in there somewhere. "

-Time Ticks Away

One, I really liked the simile I used. Blue stars are actually the hottest and brightest stars in the galaxy so very fitting for Matthew's rage induced blue eyes (my astronomy class was good for something).

Two, I just love how the dynamic turned out here. Up until this point, Arthur has only known Matthew as a quiet, anxious little boy. But he's grown, and he's angry and his strength is on full display. Arthur had always worried that Matthew was too sensitive, that he needed to teach Matthew hide that all away like how he was forced to as a child. He wanted Matthew to be strong, to be a fighter, to be tough as nails. And in the trenches of WWI Matthew has finally embraced those qualities. But looking at his son, angry, vengeful, hungry for blood makes Arthur feel sick. And this line gives me chills. We always don't know what we have until it's gone (or think it's gone).

---

20. Tell us the meta about your writing that you really want to ramble to people about (symbolism you’ve included, character or relationship development that you love, hidden references, callbacks or clues for future scenes?)

I never include symbolism or hidden references or callbacks. At least not on purpose most of the time. But I will ramble about my fic Ludwig.

The barebones of this fic have been in my mind since I started shipping GerEng three years ago. I only ever seen the whole Germany = HRE debacle through a primarily Ger//Ita lens (I was lucky if I got some exploration of what that means for the german bros on the side). So when I got into GerEng, I wondered what it would mean if GerIta wasn't together. ''

I also started liking the idea of Ger//Ita where Feli just loves Ludwig because Lud looks like HRE or was HRE. I say "was" because I like to imagine Ludwig as his own character even when working in the realm of the Germany = HRE. Regardless of what version of a theory I'm going off with (they are exactly the same or they're separate souls that share the same body) there is a distance between Ludwig and HRE. Ludwig has become his own person and his past as HRE doesn't feel like it's completely his own.

Anyway, GerEng Week rolls around almost 3 years later with a prompt absolutely perfect for these two ideas. It turned into more of an introspective of Ludwig's conflict with his identity. But I really love how the dynamics turned out.

I've loved the idea of toxic Ger//Ita for a few years now, but I'm terrible at making these characters bad people so I never really got to write it. But here, Ger//Ita becomes toxic because Feli is projecting his feelings for HRE onto Ludwig who is no longer the same boy Feli remembers. Not to mention how he's in a vulnerable state, head over heels for Feli and willing to compromise himself to make Feli happy. They don't mean for it to get toxic, but it does. Ludwig realizes this eventually, that he's losing himself, that Feli doesn't actually love him. He also realizes his feelings for Feli had gone out decades ago, only reignited in this one moment where he thought he could connect his present and past self. And Feli knew deep down for awhile that what he was doing wasn't right. And his revelation and apology is one of my favourite things I've ever written. "It’s clear your heart doesn’t belong to me and I’m sorry for feeling entitled to it because of the past" gets me every time.

And Arthur, being one of the only relationships Ludwig has where the other party wasn't so close to HRE. Unlike the others, he isn't blinded by the happiness of being reunited and sees Ludwig struggle. He becomes one of the only people Ludwig feels comfortable talking to to let it all out. Arthur becomes the one to pull him out of the role he put himself into to try to appease others. Because he loves Ludwig for Ludwig. Not for who he used to be. The romance may have been a little rushed at the end and I wish I made reference to Ludwig's crush on Arthur earlier in the fic, but I think it's sweet. Arthur had to pull Ludwig out of a funk once before and he did again proving he'd be someone Ludwig could count on.

[imagineimagineimagine]

Your writing is sooo good, it brings me joy! If I may make a request, could you do headcanons of master comforting their bond level 10 servants when they're extremely upset&close to breaking down? Servants being Enkidu, Andersen, Da Vinci Caster and Da Vinci Rider. Whatever the reason is (it's just too much of everything or they had a nightmare/nasty memory resurfacing, literally anything that brought them into that state) master is always there for them

Andersen, Enkidu, and Da Vinci (Caster & Rider) Being Comforted By Their Master

Hans Christian Andersen:

Despite the sheer magnitude of complainants he will make and his rather pessimistic outlook on life, Hans Christian Andersen truly understands and values those who attempt to live their life with everything they have; even if he himself will claim to only want you around as a source of inspiration for his next novel (Interlude). But despite his many harsh words to the contrary, even a man as blunt and arrogant as him, couldn't help but begrudging come to care about you as you're bond with one another continued to grow stronger (Bond 4+5).

There aren't many things which can cause Andersen to breakdown. Always ready with a least one sarcastic quip and absolute zero sense of shame (London Singularity), a man like him is far too proud to ever breakdown in front of others. That is however until you nearly die while attempting resolve one of the many singularities. While the mission itself was a success, and your servants managed to bring you back to Chaldea, you sustained a lot of injuries which put you out of commission for a while.

When you do eventually wake up, Andersen will ask you one time if you're alright before giving you the most savage verbal beating you have ever received. He won't yell, he won't scream, he won't even exaggerate his insults. Every insult he utters will be cold and harshly accurately. But dispute all that, its pretty easy to tell he was just worried. So the best way to comfort him in times like these is just to listen, and let him get everything out. And when he's done and angrily awaits your retort so he can yell at you some more, tell him you're grateful for how much he cares, and you're sorry for having worried him. He'll insult you some more, but they won't have nearly as much bit to them.

Enkidu:

Both the game and the character refer to Enkidu as being neither male nor female. Therefore I used the pronouns they/their/them

Sorry Anon, but Enkidu is not a servant who will ever need comforting or have a breakdown.

One important thing that needs to be understood, is that the Enkidu summoned to Chaldea is not the same Enkidu who eventually gained emotions as a result of meeting King Gilgamesh. When the gods of ancient Mesopotamia created Enkidu, Enkidu was in essence, a container with no personality. Enkidu's existence for example was similar to that of a computer which has all its hardware components but no software installed (Interlude 1). Because of that, it was simply Enkidu's initial state that was recorded to Throne of Heroes and not his later "self" which eventually did gain emotions.

The polite and agreeable personality of Chaldea's Enkidu is simply software optimized for Mater's ease of use with interacting with them (Interlude 1). And because Enkidu has no emotions (at least none which they are willing to admit), they will never be in a position in which they request comfort.

If for some reason they did have a breakdown, then more than likely either Gil Archer or Gil Caster would step in, or Enkidu themselves would go to one of them (Something you like).

The headcanons for Da Vinci Caster & RIder contain major spoilers for Solomon and the Lostbelts respectively. You have been warned.

Leonardo Da Vinci (Caster):

Ever since the beginning your crazy little adventure, the Universal Genius known as Leonardo Da Vinci has always been by your side. Whether in the command room, her workshop, or on the battlefield, her ever confident attitude and unparalleled intelligence have always made even the most impossible of situations seem winnable. And it is precisely because of those many great qualities that have resulting in her always being the one to provide you with comfort and not the other way around.

That was however until the sacrifice of Romani during the Solomon Singularity.

Da Vinci has never been someone who liked to cry. As she said herself,

(Da Vinci): I'm sure you've heard the saying, "No use crying over spilled milk"? Me, I've always had a different take on it: "You can't put spilled water back in the pot." I think that's about the perfect summary of human life. (Interlude 2).

After Romani died, it fell to her to be the commander of Chaldea. And to do her job effective she needed to be strong and project the image of having it all together; even if to you it was obvious just how much she was hurting inside.

So the best way to comfort her would be to go into her workshop at night and ask her to take you flying in her ornithopter (Bond 4). High above the clouds and away from the staff of Chaldea, ask Da Vinci to tell you story after story about her time with Romani. You'll notice the next day just how much happier she seems, having had remembered all those wonderfully happy memories.

Leonardo Da Vinci (Rider):

You wanna know how to comfort this wonderful Da Vinci-chan? Here's how:

Read the comic "Sleepy Da Vinci" on Reddit (Click me)

Read the comic "Spoiling Da Vinci-Chan" on Imgur (Click me)

Unlike her predecessor, Da Vinci Rider is much more likely to feel and express how overwhelmed she is. After all, it wouldn't be an overstatement to say that a lot of things are riding solely on her tiny little shoulders. As best as she tries to hide it, its rather apparent to everyone just how hard she is pushing herself in order to make sure that humanity survives. So what can you do to comfort this wonderful genius? Why praise her course! For everything she does she deserves to be praised. Tell her how amazing she is, how much you appreciate everything she does, and how she of all people deserves a nice long rest. You'll have her feeling better in no time.

[softquietsteadylove]

But also!!! I love the headcanons!!! Can I request more for a different AU? (your choice for which AU, I can honestly say I’d read novels about any of them and I want to know EVERYTHING)

You...you want to hear my headcanons?

Okay!!!! (I'm so excited)

So let's talk Ballerina/Boxer AU, because that's another one with a lot of in-between things I've imagined but haven't appeared in any stories, even if I've alluded to them in the tags.

Mutual pining--my absolute favourite. Thena saw Gil a few times going into his studio across the hall. Sersi immediately called her out on it because Thena does not stare at guys. Thena doesn't really notice guys, for the most part. Until the handsome boxer smiles and waves at her. Sersi is on high alert.

Likewise, Gil noticed her because who wouldn't? He adjusted his schedule so he could come in a little earlier and catch a glimpse of her before class. Once he was smiling and waving and walked right into the propped open door. He felt like an idiot and avoided eye-contact for a week, but she was completely charmed by it.

Thena is all grace but at home she's a little forgetful. She's so exhausted that by the time she gets in the door everything is getting dropped on the spot. Then she comes out the next morning looking for her bag, her shoes, her water bottle, everything. Having Gil around has actually helped her keep her stuff organized better, she just doesn't want to admit it.

Gil loves spoiling her. He thinks it's so cute to get to see his graceful and beautiful swan curled up on the couch in a grumpy little ball. She loves watching tv with her head on a pillow on his lap with his fingers running through her hair. She has no idea what's happening in any of the shows they watch together because she always falls asleep, but Gil gives her the gist of what happens. It's super all-over-the-place and she still doesn't know what happens, but it's sweet.

She used to let him help her with her cool down after classes and rehearsals but it always ends up with them getting up to other things so now she has to ban him until after she's done or she won't stretch properly.

He brings up the locker room incident on at least a weekly basis.

Thena has never been in all that serious a relationship before. She's embarrassed and thinks it's terrible, but Gil doesn't care. He's happy and proud to be the first man she calls her 'boyfriend'. Sometimes he jokingly slutshames himself in comparison to her.

Thena only owns one pair of jeans, and one white leather jacket. Everything else is...what you might imagine a professional ballerina to own. Again, she thinks maybe this isn't a good thing, but Gil doesn't care of she dresses super casual or not.

Once they started seeing each other he immediately got his regular suit re-tailored and bought three new ones, so he could have options for her show nights, or if she went to fancy events and stuff. He just wants to feel like he belongs with his Gorgeous Swan.

Ben knew Thena had a thing for Gil from the first moment she mentioned him. All she said was "Gil, the boxing instructor in the studio across from ours" and he went oh yes, your future husband.

Thena was never nervous for performances until Gil started coming to them. It's not terribly nervous, maybe more like excited butterflies. And when she comes on stage he makes a loud 'whoo!' which everyone hates and is inappropriate for the venue, but she loves it.

Thena is much more eager to experiment than Gil. He's up for it, of course, but she's the one who's actively searching for ways or excuses to get up to wild things together. Unless he's going to ask her about it later, in which case it never happened.

Early on, Gil asked to do her warm up with her, for a change in his routine. It nearly broke him.

Thena is completely at the mercy of her students. First it was them calling Gil her boyfriend before they were really that official, which was why she would get so flustered. She didn't know that he loved them doing that. They go 'oooooh!' every time they see him, which embarrasses her every time. Soon they'll start asking if they're going to get married, at which point she will explode and burst into flames on the spot.

Sersi will say 'yes, they will', like a traitor.

Gil has a more distanced but friendly relationship with his boxing students. His oldest and friendliest student is Makkari, who was the one to tell him to just talk to Thena for a month before he ended up actually doing it.

After her fall, Gil starts subtly asking if and when she would ever give up performing for any reason (he's just worried about her).

Gil would never do anything as petty as retaliate against Lara for how she treats Thena. But he did once see her and her husband getting out of their car one day downtown. He called and had the car towed by claiming it had been there way past the allowed parking time.

When they move in, Gil will move in with Thena, because she has more stuff, it's easier, he's always there anyway, and he thinks her apartment is nicer than his.

The rose he gave her the first night he asked her out is dried properly and sits in a vase on a shelf on her wall above her bed (very romantic).

When Gil meets Jack, Jack asks if he and Aunt Thena are in love, to which Gil excitedly says he's head over heels for her. Thena is eavesdropping and has to stick her head in the fridge to recover.

[armenelols]

There isn't enough appreciation for Elrond's and Isildur's friendship.

I think much of this comes from the movies, where our only image of Isildur is his 'no' and Elrond yelling 'Isildur!', and then we see him die because he dives into the river while running away from a battle because the One Ring falls from his finger. Sure, there is some scroll Gandalf reads, but it only makes Isildur seem even more obsessed with the Ring than he already seemed. Add to that Aragorn's rambling about how he and Isildur share blood and weakness and you've got the perfect receipt for evil Isildur and 'cast it into the fire' memes.

Movie!Elrond's 'men are weak' really isn't helping.

So to start with, I think it is necessary to say that I am talking about book!Elrond and book!Isildur here, and while I don't recall either of them calling the other friend, it's a headcanon I have and it is to some extent supported by the books.

In the chapter The Disaster of the Gladden Fields in Unfinished Tales, Isildur shares a few exchanges with his son, Elendur, that I would like to show here.

Elendur went to his father, who was standing dark and alone, as if lost in thought. 'Atarinya,' he said, 'what of the power that would cow these foul creatures and command them to obey you? Is it then of no avail?'

'Alas, it is not, senya. I can not use it. I dread the pain of touching it. And I have not yet found the strength to bend it to my will. It needs one greater than I know myself to be. My pride has fallen. It should go to the Keepers of the Three.'

And later in the chapter:

'My king,' said Elendur, 'Ciryon is dead and Aratan is dying. Your last counsellor must advise, nay command you, as you commanded Ohtar. Go! Take your burden, and at all cost bring it to the Keepers: even at the cost of abandoning your men and me!'

'King's son,' said Isildur, 'I knew that I must do so; but I feared the pain. Nor could I go without your leave. Forgive me, and my pride that has brought you to this doom.'

Earlier in the chapter, we also get this passage talking about Isildur:

When he at last felt free to return to his own realm he was in haste, and he wished to go first to Imladris; for he had left his wife and youngest son there, and he had moreover and urgent need for the counsel of Elrond.

Nearer to the end of the chapter, when talking about Isildur's death, Tolkien writes this:

There suddenly he knew that the Ring had gone. By chance, or chance well used, it had left his hand and gone where he could never hope to find it again. At first so overwhelming was his sense of loss that he struggled no more, and would have sunk and drowned. But swift as it had come the mood passed. The pain had left him. A great burden had been taken away. There he rose up out of the water: only a mortal man, a small creature lost and abandoned in the wilds of Middle-Earth. But to the night-eyed Orcs that lurked there on the watch he loomed up, a monstrous shadow of fear, with a piercing eye like a star. They loosed their poisoned arrows at it, and fled.

And last from this chapter, this bit about the Ring itself:

It was little more than two years since it had left his [Sauron's] hand, and though it was swiftly cooling it was still heavy with his evil will, and seeking all means to return to its lord.

So what does this tell us? And in addition, where was I coming to with Elrond & Isildur friendship?

1. For all of Isildur's refusal to give up the Ring after the war ended here:

'Alas! yes,' said Elrond. 'Isildur took it, as should not have been. It should have been cast then into Orodruin's fire nigh at hand where it was made. But few marked what Isildur did. He alone stood by his father in that last mortal contest; and by Gil-galad only Círdan stood, and I. But Isildur would not listen to our counsel.

' "This I will have as weregild for my father, and my brother," he said; and therefore whether we would or no, he took it to treasure it.

- The Council of Elrond, Fellowship of the Ring

Isildur realized he was wrong. The Ring was still at its most evil, and it wanted to corrupt him, it wanted to go back to Sauron, yet Isildur resisted enough to be able to almost give up the Ring willingly or at least consider it.

When he was slain, he was already taking the Ring to Elrond. Whether he would have the strength to do it later, he resisted the Ring enough to at least consider it. How many would be able to do so? Of course, there was the factor of the very touch of the Ring paining him, but compared with the Ring's will, that's hardly enough to convince a man to give it up.

And at last, when the Ring slipped from his finger, he did not dive after it. He gave it up, and swam away; and even as the orcs killed him, they killed him a free man.

2. He was bringing the Ring to Elrond. At the very beginning I said this post is about Elrond's and Isildur's friendship, and finally, I am talking about it.

It should go to the Keepers of the Three, Isildur says of the Ring - and for that, he would have to know who the Keepers are, or at least know of someone who knows. And it is said repeatedly that he seeks Elrond's counsel, that he goes to Imladris; did he know Elrond has Vilya?

The location of the Three is one of the greatest secrets kept from Sauron, and it is said many times that almost no one knew of it. Did Isildur know, suspect? In addition to this, Elendur seems to have the same knowledge, which, as he is repeatedly called Isildur's greatest confidant, isn't much of a wonder.

All in all, Isildur either connected the dots well enough to realize that out of all high elven lords, it is Elrond bears a ring of power (and Isildur is clever, this is a possibility); or Elrond was not careful enough and Isildur figured it out from his missteps (which, considering Elrond's experience with cursed jewellery isn't very likely); or Elrond gave him hints on purpose; or he just. Straight up told him.

The last two options seem to be most likely to me, which brings me to Elrond trusting Isildur enough to reveal such a secret to him, which leads me to my Elrond and Isildur are friends agenda.

Should the first option be true, props to Isildur for figuring it out by himself without any clues from Elrond other than him being important. Should Isildur be bringing the Ring to Elrond in hopes that Elrond knows who the Keepers of the Three are, without knowing Elrond is one of them, it still shows Isildur trusted Elrond enough to bring him the Ring even for temporary keeping.

(there is also the matter of whether Isildur knows the other Keepers of the Three, as he mentions them a few times, but never enough to indicate if he knows who they are)

3. Parallels. It is said that Elendil and Gil-galad, the two high kings of their people are friends. Is it really so unlikely that Elrond, Gil-galad's herald (and possibly heir, even though he took no crown), and most trusted advisor besides Círdan; and Isildur, the heir of Elendil the Tall and his second in command, would strike a friendship?

The Isildur we are presented with is both bold and wise - he saves the fruit of the White Tree of Númenor alone because it needs to be done, and then he does it again, and he does it because it's the best for his people. He takes the Ring, and tries to make it listen to him, and realizes he made a mistake; he tries to fix it, and wants to bring it to Elrond.

The Isildur we are presented with has courage, and wisdom, and hope.

Do you know what does this remind me of?

Edain. Their ideals. The reasons why they got the gift of Númenor, greater wisdom, longer lives.

They resisted the evil, no matter how strong; they were loyal, true to their beliefs, brave and courageous.

Elros was chosen as the king of the Edain and really, I highly doubt Edain would choose him as a king just because of his heritage, or because someone told them to do so. Sure, someone could have pointed out Elros to them and say 'hey, look at this dude, he could be a nice king, what do you think?' but in the end, while they might start following Elros because someone else told them, I doubt they would let themselves be led by someone who wasn't the best representation of them. In Athrabeth Finrod ah Andreth, Andreth does not shy away from telling Finrod her beliefs, the beliefs of her people. And I don't think that changed with time.

What am I trying to say? I think Elros and Isildur were both similar in many ways, in ways that made them the leaders they were - and that in a way, Elrond saw Elros in Isildur, as well as himself; for Elrond still connected strongly with his mortal kin, and as I mentioned earlier, their political positions were similar.

And while Isildur was his own person and had done things neither Elros or Elrond would have done, and had his own good and bad qualities, it doesn't erase the similarities.

4. Aragorn was raised in Rivendell, by his mother and Elrond and his people. Of all the people there, it is easy to see which ones would influence him the most: Gilraen, Elrond, Elladan, Elrohir. It is repeatedly shown how close he was to them. To some extent we may include Glorfindel, for they were friends, but not as much as the above mentioned four.

Now, as Estel, he wasn't aware of his heritage. He is shown to be proud of his heritage, of his descend from Isildur; and yes, this could be a simple pride in one's ancestors. It could have been that he simply liked Isildur as a historical legendary figure and it became greater after he learnt of his descend from him. Or it could have been that he was told many tales of Isildur, of his deeds and personality, and his family, and decided I want to be like him, and like Elendil, even without knowing he was in any way related to them.

And really, when it comes to the above-mentioned people, who would be the most likely to tell him stories of Isildur? Gilraen who only knew him from stories, or Glorfindel who was never mentioned around Isildur in the books, or Elladan and Elrohir, born after Isildur's death, who could have any number of first-hand stories about hundreds of Aragorn's cool ancestors but not Isildur himself?

All I am saying is there is a potential for Elrond to be telling stories of his old friend Isildur and Elendil and Gil-galad to Estel, and Estel loving them.

There is also the fact that in the chapter The Disaster of the Gladden Fields, Elendur, Isildur's son, is said to be very similar to Aragorn. And I love the idea of Elrond's and Isildur's sons paralleling each other, in a strange way, thousands of years apart.

5. In the books themselves, we do no see Elrond speaking about Isildur much. (I checked almost every mention of Isildur in most of my Tolkien books. So yeah.) On the Council of Elrond, Elrond talks about Isildur the most, but it is mainly in historical manner and 'the Ring should have been destroyed that day' manner, as you can see in the passage from the book I mentioned above in point 1.

This doesn't tell us much about their relationship, much less their friendship - and thus as a source for my image of them as friends, I give the place to The Disaster of the Gladden Fields, thinking they would make a good duo, and the potential of how Isildur's death may have had affected Elrond.

Isildur's death was unexpected. No one expected the road not to be safe - there is a reason why Isildur and his men were unprepared for a battle. They were simply journeying on a familiar road, to Rivendell and then Arnor. Not even the Orcs that ambushed them knew of the Ring. In Rivendell, they learnt of what happened only thanks to Ohtar, Isildur's squire who survived; and even then, the specific circumstances of his death were not revealed until Aragorn found Elendilmir and the chain which bore the Ring among Saruman's things.

In all honesty, I don't think even Elrond knew Isildur planned on giving him the Ring. I do not doubt he expected him, for his wife and youngest son were in Imladris - but I found no reason as to why he might know of Isildur's plans with the Ring.

That could give him a reason to speak ill of Isildur, couldn't it? Yet when he speaks of him, he only speaks of facts and what should have been done - he doesn't call Isildur too weak to give up the ring, or power-hungry, or proud - and by the latter, Isildur calls himself several times (as can be seen here, in the passages I used above)

It needs one greater than I know myself to be. My pride has fallen.

And here:

Forgive me, and my pride that has brought you to this doom.

And yes, it was a formal Council - Elrond had no reason to speak of his personal feelings towards Isildur. Yet I think the little he said reflects his thoughts well. He might have felt some bitterness towards him, especially as he later learnt what the Ring's nature truly was; and especially as he had no knowledge of Isildur being willing to give the Ring to him, for better or worse, whether he would find the strength to do so or not.

Still, once Elrond learnt of the Ring's Nature, I think he might have understood Isildur better - especially as he himself did not dare to even touch the Ring.

[descendantofthesparrow]

Poly sea three x reader - oneshot - Lonely

*as i finished this i realized this has no dialogue...which is kinda cool i’ve never written a no dialogue fic, so enjoy!* ((y/n) is Jack Sparrows kid btw if you couldn't guess from the compass on the moodboard) 

=

After Uma left, her life was harder…harder than it was before. Uma was the rock of the crew, always there, always steady, and ready to command the lot at a moment's notice. The crew saw a polished rock, hard and smooth, shining like the stars in the galaxy.

Only three people in the crew saw the rough edges. Uma only trusted three people to see behind the polished glaze, exposing the rocky terrain within her. On nights where it had just been too much stress at the chip shop, she would retreat to one of three rooms, sometimes even gathering all of them to be in her room so she could just relax with her favorite people.

Her head rested on her first mate's chest, his solid heartbeat and even breathing lulling her to sleep, her body tangled with her war chief, arms wrapped around each other like snakes and thumb gently rubbing her back. Her legs coiled around her second mate, his hands pressed against her calf and thigh, always letting her know he was there.

Uma didn’t know how much she relied on them until she couldn't get back behind the barrier, eyes wide with helplessness as she called out for them on the other side, Harry when he would nab some fish from an unsuspecting fisherman, (y/n) when they sat on the docks, carving whatever they felt like into their dagger, Gil when he was skipping rocks.

They never heard her, and she didn’t try again as she watched them walk around on the deck of her ship.

She missed them, she realized that almost as soon as she hit the water outside the barrier, stopping for a moment to look back, watching as the barrier closed and she was separated from her friends.

Sometimes, she would see things that reminded her of them, the scarlet ribbon of a disregarded dress, a sparrow flying above her, a broken arrowhead at the bottom of the sea.

Uma just wanted to be with them again, her heart ached every night she went on without the sound of Harry's heart, the feeling of (y/n)s hands gently scratching at her back, the feeling of Gil's hands gently massaging her legs. She realized she loved them, all three of them, the longer she was away from them.

She missed them all, so much.

And she hoped that they missed her too.

-

After Uma left, the isle was harder…harder than it was before. Uma was the rock of the crew, always there, always steady, and ready to command the lot of you at a moment's notice. The crew saw a polished rock, hard and smooth, shining like the stars in the galaxy.

Only three people in the crew saw the rough edges. Uma only trusted three people to see behind the polished glaze, exposing the rocky terrain within her. And she saw the inner workings of them behind closed doors, rusty cogs and scratched glass resting before her eyes.

Harry got more…twitchy, after Uma left, his usual controlled rage that used to bubble beneath his skin bursting out more often, scaring the crew sometimes, but never you and Gil. you both knew he’d never hurt either of you, he’d throw himself off the edge of the world before he even thought about doing so.

Harry was just so angry that Uma was gone, stuck on the other side of the barrier, he had no doubt she didn’t abandon any of you but that didn’t stop him from screaming and destroying the training dummies.

He shut himself away from everyone soon after the anger burned out, even Harriet hadn’t been able to convince him to unlock his door. It had taken almost a month for him to let you and Gil inside, and he looked awful, his skin was pale and his nose and cheeks were red, his eyes puffy and dull. The only reason he wasn’t skinny was thanks to you and Gil leaving trays full of food in front of his door at mealtimes, and leaving it there for him to grab it.

During those months of anger and depression, you and Gil took over the crew, you ascended into the role of captain, being the most knowledgeable about the position thanks to your lineage and Gil becoming first mate, all temporary until Harry recovered and Uma returned.

Though once Harry started to slowly return to his “normal” self, he didn’t care to try to take back his role as the first mate or become the captain as his first mate duties proclaimed, that alone told you and Gil and something was still wrong with Harry.

One night you and Gil dragged Harry into Uma’s empty quarters, and just laid in her bed in a tangle of limbs, Gil laying between Harry's legs with his head on Harry’s stomach, while Harry curled up into your chest, hands clutching onto your shirt. That night was one of the few times you saw Harry cry, choked sobs ripping from his throat as he attempted to muffle them in your neck.

You and Gil let your feelings out that night as well, assuring Harry that he wasn’t alone in missing Uma, you all did. So.damn.much.

Harry had always been in love with Uma, never afraid to show it, but that night you and Gil finally proclaimed the same after years of hiding your feelings in fear they would be used against you. And you loved each other too, it was hard to deny, not after revealing your feelings for Uma.

You all vowed that when Uma returned you would shower her in the love that you had all been deprived of for many years.

It was over a year later before you saw her again, Gil and Harry had jumped out of the barrier behind Mal and her goons plus Celia, Harry knocking the blue gem out of Mal's hand.

Your breath escaped you when a turquoise tentacle caught it, and Uma, looking more beautiful than you remembered, emerged from the water, dressed in an altered version of her turquoise cotillion dress, the sweetheart neckline showing off her glowing shell necklace.

Uma and your boys reunited, but she didn’t look at you, probably because you were back behind the tunnel and she couldn’t see you through the barrier and the darkness of the tunnel. But that was fine, you could wait just a bit longer before you looked her in the eyes again.

You would wait a thousand years for her.

But you wouldn’t have to wait that long, the next morning you awoke to the crew loudly celebrating, cheers and chaos echoing through the halls of the ship from the main deck.

You slipped out of bed, quickly changing into your gear and racing up to the main deck, unable to keep the smile of your lips as you saw Uma, who continued to glow with an echo of her magic, being lifted by the crew, all cheering and celebrating her return.

Her eyes locked onto yours, and as the crew set her down on her feet, you walked toward her, taking off your tri-corn hat and kneeling in front of her. You said her name like a prayer to the gods, a whisper on your lips. Uma shivered at the tone, feeling something wash over her at your worship.

As she looked around at the crew, Harry and Gil standing only a few inches from her, not wanting to be far from her, she realized that while Auradon had everything one could want, riches, good food, magic.

It was nothing compared to the warmth she felt surrounded by her crew and the three people she loved with all her soul.

Uma grabbed your face as you stood up, biting back a smile at your confused look, and pressed a kiss to your lips, the crew around them exploding into cheers.

Uma pulled back from you, smirking at your dazed look as she spun around and grabbed Harry's jacket, pulling him down to her height for a kiss, laughing into it as he slumped into her and groaned. She pulled away one last time and turned to Gil, grinning at his ‘excited puppy’ look, and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips, smiling as he picked her up by her waist to give her better access.

The crew celebrated and cheered, Bonnie handing Desiree a wad of cash when you and Harry kissed as Gil set Uma down and pulled the four of you into a hug, Uma pressing a kiss to his cheek as he did.

All was well again.

Uma wasn’t lonely anymore.

-end-

lowkey kinda proud of this one hehe, tell me what yall thought! this was originally going to be a under the sea kinda fic but it turned into them all missing Uma and Uma missing them and then they all reunited and kiss and just asaoishdahsda i couldn't help but do the fluff at the end 

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[lisbonsteresa]

We Keep This Love (In a Photograph) (Nancy x Ace)

The first time he finds the photo is the day after the food festival. 

He arrives at the Claw late, rushing to shove his jacket into his locker and get to the kitchen before George notices his absence, when something crinkles unexpectedly in the pocket. Reaching in, he pulls out the polaroid - a bit wrinkled, the right corner completely folded over - but still in one piece even after the events of the day before. He stares at it for a moment, crouching in front of his open locker, trying to recall when he had acted on the impulse to grab it off the coffee table in their rush to leave, and before he can stop to realize what he’s doing he’s studying the picture’s subject instead. Hair falling into her eyes, dirt from the tunnels still smeared across her face, her features set in an expression of determined focus as she dug into the box of files Carson had procured for her, still looking so perfectly…Nancy. A small grin crosses his face as he remembers her amused reaction to the flash of the camera turning into a sincere smile as Carson told her how proud of her he was - Because of her testimony. The grin drops off his face as the memories of the rest of the day rush back into sharp focus. The sense of uselessness he’d felt as he’d dangled from that railing and watched his life be traded for the lives of countless others; the terrifying amount of finality he’d heard in her ‘I couldn’t lose you.’; the way there was no doubt in his mind about what “favor” Celia had asked for in return - a favor that for all he knows Nancy could be fulfilling right this moment. 

As if summoned by his own despondent thoughts, the door to the storeroom suddenly bursts open and Nancy rushes in, her coat hanging off of one arm as she fastens her hair into a hurried bun. Her mad dash stops short upon seeing him, and as their eyes meet he’s suddenly overwhelmed by all the things he wants to say to her; all the things he held back the day before while Grant was around. The questions of  ‘How could you -’ and ‘Why would you -’ and the arguments starting with ‘This will ruin your -’ and ‘I’m not worth -’ cycle around each other in his mind, and he can tell that something’s about to slip out his mouth but he can’t make the connection between them to know what it’ll be - And then suddenly he doesn’t have to. George’s annoyed voice rings out from the kitchen, and he’s never heard the phrase ‘saved by the boss’ before, but after this he might consider adopting it. He quickly crumples the photo into a ball and tosses it into his locker, following it with his jacket as if burying the image would help him bury the feelings it brought up. He gives Nancy a curt nod, avoiding whatever he might have seen in her eyes as he turns and heads towards the stairs, knowing there was a difference between delaying something and running away from it, but not quite sure which side this was falling on.

——————————————————————

It’s several months before he sees it again. Long enough for Everett Hudson’s first case to be declared a mistrial due to jury tampering, and for the time between it and his retrial to be just enough to allow Nick and Ryan to find a smoking gun hidden in Tiffany’s files that put the Hudson patriarch away for his full sentence (officially, at least). Long enough for Amanda to turn to him on her doorstep two weeks after the trial and tell him that she and Gil were leaving - finally following up on his lead in Santa Fe. There were kisses goodbye and offers to help in any way he could, but they both agreed it would be better for her to focus on finding her mother, and at this point it’s been long enough that he’s starting to feel like he’s doing okay after the breakup. He’s starting to feel like everything’s back to…whatever passes for normal in Horseshoe Bay. At least, he is until Nancy announces - midway through George’s mandated After Hours End-of-Summer-Cleaning Locker Inspection, no less - that she’s gotten into Columbia. 

His hand had just closed around a crumpled ball of paper in the back of his locker when the words leave her mouth, and the ball stays in his hand even as he joins in on the group hug an ecstatic Bess initiates; as he tells Nancy how happy he is for her; as he reassures George that he’ll close up so she can ride with Nick to the celebration he’s sure Carson has planned for Nancy back at their place. 

It isn’t until he’s left alone in the storeroom and he drops down onto the bench in front of his locker that he notices how tightly he’s been gripping the paper. Or the…not paper, he corrects himself as he notices the different texture of whatever he was holding. A sneaking suspicion comes from the back of his mind as he starts to smooth out the ball, and once the image is revealed in full - slightly faded with the right corner ripping off altogether after he pulls a bit too hard -  he has to fight the urge to crumple the photo again and toss it into the trash. 

Which is a weird impulse, isn’t it? Because he was happy for her, of course he was. This was Nancy’s dream school, after all, and after the year that she’s had, doesn’t she deserve to do what makes her happy? To move on with her - His thoughts stutter to a stop. He shakes his head and tries again. After all, hasn’t he - haven’t they all - known this was coming, sooner or later? Hasn’t he known from the start that Nancy was meant for bigger and better things? That she wasn’t going to hang around forever, not in this nowhere small town, with her ragtag group of friends and the dishwasher who’s been at a standstill since high school -

He’s being unfair, he knows. Because Nancy doesn’t see it, any of it, like that. He knows how much Nancy cares; about Horseshoe Bay, about her friends…about him. She’d told him as much during the countless knock-down-drag-out arguments they’d had after the incident at the paper mill, hadn’t she? But he can feel annoyance - or maybe even anger -  rising up inside him, and if he doesn’t deflect it towards her, then he’ll have to confront himself, and he’s been avoiding that confrontation for months now. He’d have to actually think about why he’s been keeping Nancy at arm’s length even after they’d both said their piece during those arguments. Why he’d been so insistent that they’d ‘gotten back to normal’ when he honestly wasn’t sure he had any idea of what ‘normal’ was for them. It certainly wasn’t the way she’d avoided his eyes when he’d congratulated her, but he wasn’t sure it was the way she had held onto his hand long after everyone else had left their hug either. He’d have to actually think about how he’d wasted so much time pretending there wasn’t still something to fix between them, and how he didn’t know what to feel now that he’s realized they’ve run out of time anyway.

When Amanda had left, it had felt like they were mutually closing a door - calm and maybe a little sad, but with both of them smiling and understanding on their respective sides. Knowing that Nancy was leaving felt like having to struggle with a door against hurricane-level winds, without a clue of what side he wanted to be on once he finally got it closed. But maybe that’s not a fair comparison to make, he rationalizes. After all, he and Amanda were together. He and Nancy have just been…  He looks back down at the polaroid, his thumb running along the torn edge as he considers just what exactly he and Nancy have been, before dragging a hand through his hair with a sigh. Too late to figure it out now, anyway.

He leans forward and slips the photo between the pages of a library book already overdue by a year at the bottom of his locker. So he’ll have something to remember her by, he tells himself, unsure if the unpleasant feeling that settles in his gut as he slams the locker shut is bitterness or just plain sadness.

——————————————————————

Life goes on in Horseshoe Bay, even without Nancy Drew. It’s not until late fall when he sees the photo again. He’s helping George and Nick with the Claw’s first official Allhallowtide event, spending his day helping kids decorate their lanterns whenever he’s not hyping Bess up over text for her ‘very preliminary, very probational, very terrifying!!!!!’ (her exclamation points, not his) first in-person meeting with Aunt Diana since she’d started slowly rebuilding their relationship. 

He’s sitting on the steps leading into the storeroom after one of their longer text exchanges, laughing when George calls out for him to make himself useful and find more markers, but he rises to follow her instructions anyway. It takes him all of 5 minutes to realize that they are completely marker-free, digging through every drawer and pencil holder in the room and coming up with nothing, before he remembers the pack of Crayolas he’s pretty sure survived his last locker clean-out. 

He unloads his jacket, a few books, and the jumbo pack of earplugs he’s been drawing from ever since that siren incident three weeks ago onto the bench to make it easier to find the markers, but the earplugs overbalance the books and everything comes toppling down before he can even look through what’s left in the locker. 

With a sigh, he leans over and picks up the old library book that fell face-down, watching curiously as a square of paper drops out from between the pages and back down onto the floor. A catalogue card, he wonders, or maybe a note someone stashed and forgot about? But as he picks it up and sees the torn right corner, he realizes that not only is it not regular paper, but that he knows exactly what he’s going to see before he flips the item over. 

A shock runs through him all the same once he does, seeing Nancy’s face for the first time in months. He doesn’t have more than a moment to think about that though, as his phone erupts with seven text tones in rapid succession at the same time George’s shouts for him to hurry up reach the storeroom. After a tiny moment of hesitation, he slides the polaroid into his back pocket and shoves everything else back into the locker before making his way back to the dining room, marker-less and contrite. 

That was a mistake. He spends the rest of the day hyperaware of what he’s holding onto, patting his pocket for reassurance it hasn’t slipped out so many times that one of Ted’s friends asks him - with all the seriousness a 9-year old can muster - if he is also suffering from the ‘wedgie-saurus’. 

It isn’t until that night, after he insists that he’ll close up the Claw so Nick and George can stay with her sisters at the lantern-lighting event, that he has a moment alone to actually look at the picture. He straddles the storeroom bench, placing it down in front of him and resting his elbows on his knees so he can lean in close as a sudden wave of guilt hits him. He remembers the way their text conversations had petered out after long stretches of one-word or emoji-only replies; the way her calls had slowly become less and less frequent until they stopped altogether. He still gets weird looks from the others when he makes excuses to avoid their video calls with her; can still hear Bess’s overly-sympathetic voice after she’d spent a long weekend in New York telling him that everything was fine, that Nancy just misses him.

He misses her too; of course he does. Some days he misses her so much the ache of it catches him by surprise. Like when he'd realized his habit of watching the door for the first ten minutes of every shift, still expecting her to rush through it with her name tag missing and an excuse at the ready. When he made a Big Lebowski reference at dinner one night and got nothing other than a confused smile from his mother in response. When he was researching something at the end of the bar and felt a phantom presence at his shoulder, like she was just outside his peripheral, leaning up against him and waiting impatiently for him to turn towards her and give her the answer she was looking for. 

It didn’t seem possible for someone he’d known for barely a year to have become such a big part of every aspect of his life, but everywhere he’s turned for months there seems to be another reminder of Nancy Drew.

And that just makes everything worse. Because he hadn’t been able to give her the answers she might have needed before she left. And now, now that he’s had the time to figure those answers out, now that they kept him up at night, running endlessly through his head while he stares dejectedly at the ceiling, he doesn’t know if they’re still the same answers she was looking for now. And he’s terrified by the thought that they might not be. He’s gotten himself caught in a mystery he doesn’t know how to solve on his own.

But maybe… His thoughts are interrupted by the chime of the clock hanging above the back door, and he starts when he realizes nearly an hour has passed since he first sat down. Glancing at the photo again, he waits for the urge to tuck it back between the pages of that book; to push his feelings down and avoid having to confront them, but it doesn’t come. 

Something else clicks into place with the last chime of the clock, and holding the polaroid in one hand, he unlocks his phone with the other, ignoring Bess’s 5 recap and 2 goodnight texts for the moment while he taps the contact info for the only other person he’s sure will be awake at midnight on a Tuesday. 

She picks up on the first ring. “Ace?” 

Her voice sounds tired, maybe even a little worried, but so deeply familiar his heart jumps into his throat just at the sound of her saying his name. “Hey, Nancy.” he begins, unable to hold back a small smile as he looks down at her picture. “Can we talk?”

Maybe he doesn’t have to solve this one alone.

Maybe neither of them do.

——————————————————————

Nancy’s bright hair makes her easy to spot, even from his position across the train platform. He watches as she peers through the crowd, noticing him with a grin and a tiny wave, before he pushes off from the wall and starts to make his way over to meet her. 

He’d practically had to fight Ryan to be the one picking her up, he imagines telling her as she laughs. The man had been ready to push him down in the driveway until Carson had stepped in to - heavily, mind you - imply that maybe Nancy and Ace could use a little ‘alone time’. 

That part he might keep to himself, actually. It was bad enough that Carson acted like he was in on some big secret every time he got off the phone with his daughter; he didn’t need her wondering why both her father figures were trading smug smiles every time the four of them were in a room together. 

He realizes too late that he’d gotten caught up in his thoughts and that Nancy was suddenly standing less than a foot away from him. “Hi.” he murmurs, the memory of their last - somewhat awkward - reunion tugging at the back of his mind. (He almost wished his arm was still in a sling. Then at least he’d only have to worry about what to do with one of his hands).

“Hi.” she replies in the same tone, her own hands twisting nervously in the strap of her bag, but a beaming smile on her face. It was the same smile he’d seen during their almost daily video calls for the past month and a half, but he hadn’t thought to prepare for the way it makes his heart flip to see it directed at him, live and in person.

“H-how’s Columbia?” he manages to only stumble over the first word, but it doesn’t really seem to matter because suddenly Nancy’s dropped her luggage and launched herself at him, throwing her arms around his neck and clinging to him while his arms instinctively wrap around her, pulling her closer still as he breathes in the fact that this is really happening, that it’s not a dream he’s going to wake up from to find the calendar mockingly reminding him there was another three days until her holiday break started.

He’s not sure how long they stay there, wrapped up in each other while the rest of the world moves around them, but when they finally pull away he knows his smile is as bright as hers. There’s a lot they still have to share - he hasn’t told her about his first day interning with John Sander yet, and she has a copy of the Daily Spectator with her first front page article stowed safely in her bag - and a lot - the distance, their schedules, missing each other - that they still have to figure out. But as he holds out his hand and Nancy takes it in hers, intertwining their fingers as if it was the most natural thing in the world, Ace can’t find it in himself to worry. 

Whatever happens, they’ll figure out a way to solve it. Together.

——————————————————————

(She finds the photo less than a week later; sees it hanging on the inside of his locker when she stops by the Claw to help them decorate for the holidays. Bess is beside herself at somehow being one of the last to know, but Ace can’t really focus on anything other than the look in Nancy’s eyes as she pulls him in for a kiss.)

[orquidaeas]

— FOOD COURT, MALL, 20TH OF MAY 2044,  WITH IKAR KYO. @infestaticns​

his hand taps the metal table, cold meeting numb and scarred and lost. what is meant to calm him becomes a reminder of yet another thing he’s lost to him. it wasn’t him, he wasn’t even there. logic matters little as he’s begun seeing red long ago. at the first sight of the soldier, really, his knuckles already feeling bruised before they hit anything at all - it’s muscle memory, from the previous times they were in contact with ikar. poor ikar, so young, still new in town, fallen victim to the crazy man, is that not the story? it’s not as if gilbert hasn’t lost it with others before, drawing blood and bruise when he should not, although it’s been happening more often ever since his return from the grizzlies. and yet one of them sits across the long table from him. i never left, they’re still all around. ikar’s words have long been lost in his ears, sounds of provocations (or perhaps innocuous words, his paranoid mind reminds him) melting into voices that don’t belong to ikar, the bear he never even met. it is wrong to judge him for the sins of his leader, but he stands proud, too proud. “shut up.” is he even talking right now? his eyes blink, trying to pull him back to the loud canteen, full of people eating their rations, full of faces who know him - but his imagination or, worse, his memory, keeps pulling him right back. gilbert has no time to think, as when he tilts his head to look at the other man, he sees his mouth move. it doesn’t matter what disgusting words leave it, because gil is, without warning, pulling himself onto the top of the table, crouching and sliding his way to the other side, the familiar fist hitting the other across the face and gravity pulling them from bench to hard floor. he cannot tell if the canteen has suddenly gone quiet or if he’s filtered it out. gilbert should know better, daiyu volkova having just returned from her disappearance after attacking another enforcer. but her stakes are higher and gilbert is too lost in fear, despite not calling it that. 

[theoriginalcarnivorousmuffin]

what's your take/thoughts on sauron or the one ring? i feel like you're gonna roast him so much. also, yes, i'm the same anon and this is for research purposes

Ha, hello again, welcome back.

That said, I'm actually not, to me Sauron's a very interesting guy that we don't get to see much of in the original series. That's the end of Sauron, where he ends up after everything that's happened to him.

To me, Sauron's story is essentially a classic tragedy, a noble character, through an inherent and lethal flaw, makes a series of increasingly terrible choices that ultimately lead to his doomed end at the end of the series.

Or, in the case of what happened to Sauron, he got his ass kicked by lesser beings twice.

So let's go back to the beginning.

Sauron starts as Mairon, a proud, ambitious, but certainly not inherently evil Maia living in Valinor, the realm of the Middle Earth gods. The Maia, in Middle Earth lore, are essentially angels, and have not only no inherent form (Mairon's actually a giant ball of light and fire that can appear in various humanoid forms) but were created to help create the mortal world.

Mairon was a very talented, perfectionist, smith under the... we'll call him a smithing god, Aule. However, Mairon was unsatisfied with this and was intrigued by Melkior, a different god who was viewed as one of the most talented and innovative of the Valar. So, Mairon goes off to be his apprentice instead and then...

Well, Melkior becomes Morgoth, and if there is an inherently evil character in Tolkien's worlds then it's definitely Morgoth. Opinions vary on how willing a disciple Mairon was of Morgoth once true colors were revealed, but I fall on the Mairon being very internally conflicted.

I imagine he went through quite a bit of torture and hell on earth, and in the end, isn't all that fond of Morgoth. Doesn't excuse him, of course, but he and everyone else has a miserable time.

During this time, Mairon also loses his name and becomes Sauron, the abhorrant one, and embraces his identity as torturer/despised enemy of the elves (who Mairon never saw much point of and doesn't see why Middle Earth was created for them let alone Men).

Morgoth declares war on the rest of the Valar, makes Middle Earth a hell hole filled with monsters, and Sauron becomes his lieutenant. Various shit happens, Sauron gets tangled up in the Luthien and Beren mess, loses to them, and spends a good chunk of the first age in a coma somewhere recovering from his wounds inflicted by Morgoth in punishment.

Morgoth is imprisoned by the Valar, that doesn't work so well, he escapes and there's a giant battle. Morgoth and company lose, Morgoth is banished into the void, Sauron, rather than return to Valinor and face punishment for his crimes, flees.

And here's where he could have had his moment of redemption. He could have returned to Valinor and owned up to his actions. Or, barring that, he could have let go. Morgoth is effectively dead, he can leave his identity behind, and he can move on.

Sauron can't move on.

Instead, a good while later, he starts building up an army in Mordor and then arrives in Eregion, an elven kingdom, in the disguise of a Maia from Valinor arrived to teach elves great smithing tricks. There, he and Celebrimbor invent ring craft and practice it for three-hundred years, and I don't think it's a stretch of imagination to say that they were friends.

Only, Celebrimbor didn't quite trust him and created the three rings for the elves in secret. Well, Sauron revealed his true intentions after creating the one ring, making the men who had been gifted rings by him his slaves and making the dwarves more indifferent and greedy (they proved hard to corrupt). He ends up torturing Celebrimbor, using his body as a banner, and sacks Eregion.

And here's the thing, he didn't have to do any of this. He could have stopped, could have become Annatar as he was pretending to be, but no, Sauron just keeps going.

Anyways, Numenor, the kingdom of men, go to war against him and win. This is pathetic, Sauron has been defeated by mortals, and he's taken captive on their island. There he sits, for a good long while, until political drama comes up and a very corrupt man seizes the throne and marries his cousin.

Long and short, Sauron convinces them all to be Satanists and to invade Valinor, a land mortals are never meant to touch. Well, God doesn't like that, and smites not only the invaders but the entire island of Numenor. It sinks into the sea, Sauron's probably hated water and been terrified of drowning ever since.

Sauron goes back to Mordor, but there's still a kingdom of men out there, those who fled from Numenor during the Satanist purges. They ally themselves with the elven kingdoms and make a last stand against Sauron.

Against all odds, Sauron distracting himself in a crucial moment, they defeat him by cutting off his finger. Sauron becomes a wraith, the ring falls into Isildur's hand, and the second age comes to an end.

For the entire third age, Sauron is off being a miserable wraith, and only towards the end regains his form (though not his fair form) and starts gathering forces in Mordor again. The ring floats at the bottom of a lake, then Gollum gets it, then Bilbo, then Frodo.

Then, against all odds, the Lord of the Rings happens and the ring is destroyed. Sauron is essentially defeated and will never have the power he ever wielded again.

Life is pointless, he's a fool, and the volcano is erupting. EDIT: An anon reminded me (warning, it’ll be a while til I get to your actual post and question), that Gil-Galad was very important! Sauron was gravely injured/died from the wounds inflicted on him by Gil-Galad, Isildur cutting off Sauron’s finger helped that along, perhaps, but was far from the killing blow.