#LET GIL EAT

[nightie-after-midnight]

Gil just going To Town on Elrond, as he deserves 

#my art #gil-galad #elrond #gil galad/elrond #smut #silm #silmarilion #silm art #elves #LET GIL EAT #rated e

[softquietsteadylove]

Ohh you have to continue the zombie au!! Them finally meeting sersi and co will be amazing :D

"Welcome, Gilgamesh."

He frowned at those around him. He hadn't given them his name. Usually it was Thena who was deeply distrustful of anyone they came across, but he was happy to take up that mantle in her absence.

That was the worst part about this place, that he had yet to see Thena.

He had woken up in a fit over it, but they had told him - promised him - that he would see her if he kept himself calm. They returned his clothes to him, washed and everything.

"We take in all those who need help," the short doctor, Ajak he had learned, said beside him. The cafeteria was surprisingly bustling with people. "That was how you came to us."

They had told him that Thena had arrived with him on her back, which he couldn't help but doubt. Not that she would do it, but Thena was half his weight at most, and they didn't exactly have food or water to spare, last he remembered.

The last solid memory he did have was of feeling feverish, dragging his feet as they continued towards the next city. He must have been really lagging, because Thena did something they never did, which was commandeer a car.

He could remember being in the backseat, and he could remember Thena's voice whispering sweet things, his head in her lap, her tipping water up to his lips.

All the more reason for him to be wary of these people until he could see Thena for himself. He looked around the place, "I don't see her."

They sighed. He had been a broken record since getting on his feet, but he felt he had good reason to be. The other doctor patted his shoulder, although he flinched away from her. "Thena is just getting back."

"Back?" he frowned and turned. Sersi, the younger, taller doctor, and a third guy in a white coat named Phastos all stepped back from him. They were the only ones he'd met so far. "Where was she?"

"She joined some of our scouts on a run," Phastos attempted to be a voice of reason. "Some of the supplies we needed were for you, so she volunteered to go with them."

He wasn't exactly placated by the news. "So you sent her out there with people she doesn't even know? Are they really gonna watch her back out there? What if they can't protect her?!"

"Gil, please," Sersi joined in the effort to soothe him. "It's a simple run to the closest facility outside the hospital. We've been here a long time--since the beginning, really. We've already sectioned off half the city as safe territory."

Gil huffed. With Phastos behind him and the docs in front, he felt a bit like a caged animal. He looked around the bustling cafeteria again, "fine. When will they be back?"

"It should be any time now," Sersi promised before turning and trotting off.

"Sersi's husband is part of the field team," Ajak supplied in her absence, leading them closer to the rest of the populace. The people already there eyed them and kept their distance, but they didn't exactly pull out pitch forks and torches at the sight of him. "We have some very good people here with us."

Gil watched as Doctor Sersi trotted over to the door, her wavy black ponytail bouncing behind her. She must have seen they were coming, because she ran at the door and launched herself into someone's arms before they were even in the room.

A man walked in with her attached to him, tall and broad shouldered. Gil couldn't hear them, but he had an inkling that he was one of the men who had dragged him inside when Thena no longer could. The other one walked in past the married couple, not even glancing at them.

Finally, far behind the other two, a ghost of a figure hurried into the room and immediately split off and away from everyone. Despite the promise of food, she steered clear of the line for it, pushing a blonde ponytail off her shoulder and pulling off her backpack.

Her clothes had also been washed, and the jacket she was wearing seemed to be new, maybe as a form of protection. But that was definitely his Thena prowling away from the thick of the crowd.

"Thena!"

Heads turned and people jumped out of the way of the huge stranger sprinting across the room. Some of them yelped, as if he were a train barrelling forward on its tracks. But he could only see Thena.

"Gil!" she barely got out before he swallowed her up, his arms snaking around her and his massive form folding over her. Her knees bent in response but he held her close, swinging her around in his arms.

"Thena! You're okay!" he sobbed, openly at that. For all his reluctance to cooperate with their hosts thus far he let himself weep with joy as he finally felt Thena's light frame in his embrace again. She still smelled like fresh air, and she was warm, and she was kind of bony, but soft in the places it mattered. "I-I thought-!"

"Sh, Gil, I'm here," she cooed, running her fingers through his hair as he blubbered over her like a baby. She let him lean his weight on her, his face buried between her neck and her shoulder, their legs stumbling, "it's okay, just breathe."

"I told you--they're too committed to each other, they won't-"

"Ikaris, hush."

"Are we just gonna watch them make out, or...?"

"Give them some space," Ajak urged the rest of her team. Gil pulled his head up to see her waving them back, her back turned to them. She didn't have the distrust in him and Thena that he had with her. "can you blame them?"

"Gil," Thena called to him, pulling his attention back to her. She put her hand to his cheek, her eyes scrubbing over him, "are you okay?"

He nodded, leaning into her touch, "I'm okay. Wh-What about you? I woke up and a-and you-"

"Sorry," Sersi leaned over to offer her apologies, "I voted to move you into the same room, but I got outnumbered."

"We weren't sure what to make of you," the other man who came in alongside Sersi's husband shrugged. "And then you freaked out when she wasn't there, so-"

"So," Gil made a face, "you decided that keeping us apart longer would fix that?"

Ajak laughed, although the guy clearly didn't appreciate it. He huffed, putting his hands on his hips, "hey, big guy, I'm the funny one here, got it?"

"Okay," Ajak spoke to those crowded around them en masse again, "let's let the lovebirds have a bite to eat and settle themselves. We can discuss what happens from here on afterward."

What did she mean by that? But Gil looked down as Thena slipped her hand into his. He was going to have to ignore that 'lovebirds' comment for now too, huh?

"Come on," Thena pulled him by the hand, keeping their fingers intertwined, "you must be starving."

"Well, yeah, but-" he looked around, still feeling on edge in the completely new environment. It was being around people - living people - that had him so on edge.

"I'll tell you everything that's happened," Thena promised him, "after you eat."

He just sighed, looking at her like she was the sun and he'd been underground for years. He would do anything if it meant he didn't have to let go of her hand yet, "fine."

#Thenamesh Zombie AU #so a new chapter begins eh? #thank you for asking for more of this au #I really am delighted to see it come back #and yes we're finally meeting the rest of the crew! #I've debated bringing them in before this #but it was never the right time before #anyway Gil wakes up and he's like where's Thena #he puts his clothes back on #where's Thena #they say come eat something and he says where is my wife?!! #Thena tells him all about how she got him here and the infection and how worried she was #she doesn't tell him about collapsing and having to be restrained #he says okay he'll hear them out #but they're on thin ice for not letting him see that she was okay as soon as he woke up #he's extra wary of Kingo and Ikaris #what do you mean his precious Thena went on a supply run with these two strangers?! #Ikaris says they can't trust them because they're too devoted to each other #Sersi: you used to be romantic #Kingo: I doubt that he was ever romantic

[royalboybun]

🤍 doodles... 🍷

#mine #gilmorism #korbat #he's so. ugh!!! worms that eat my brain!!!!!! #gee gil how come your creator lets you have TWO boyfriends??

[thesummerestsolstice]

I love it when Elrond is portrayed as someone who is a little bit incomprehensible to most of the elves at first. Not even just because he's a half-elf, but because he reminds them all of so many other people, and that layering can be kind of jarring.

He sings beautifully, with a voice that sounds like no elf or man, and it reminds many of the Sindar of Luthien. It reminds some of the Noldor of someone else, another singer with raven-dark hair and starry gray eyes.

The braids he does his hair in– and he always keeps it braided at first, because letting it run loose is another thing that makes people whisper of Luthien– are in the traditional Noldor style. The survivors of Gondolin love that; Turgon always wore his hair in classical styles too. The other part of the House of Finwe that clung to traditional braids goes unmentioned. But everyone knows.

And he was clearly taught about court manners; taught to be gracious and charming, and a very good listener. The elf who could have taught Elrond those things is usually skipped over entirely, in favor of those reminiscing about Idril's graceful poise or Melian's endless patience.

He looks very much like Luthien, but there is a particular Finwean sharpness in his facial structure; something that makes him look a lot like Fingolfin, as well. Fingolfin looked very much like his father. And his older brother.

His smile is just like Earendil's (whose smile is just like Tuor's), and his strange, birdlike laugh is from Elwing. He fights and writes with his left hand– but then, so did Earendil, because while all elves are right-handed, not all humans or half-elves are. He eats no meat– just like Beren, they say, but the way Elrond tells it the choice had nothing to do with that history. There is ainuric power in him and something very human in the set of his shoulders. The flowers grow around any place he stays long enough. He gets sick in a way no elf, and certainly no maia, ever would. His accent is odd, and archaic, and changes noticeably when he's too tired to obscure it. His mannerisms are a mixture of about twelve people, almost all of whom are dead, and several of whom are not spoken of by the time he shows up in Gil-Galad's camp.

And the reflections of Elrond unsettle a lot of people; because one moment they see a fallen hero or loved one, and the next they see the person that took them. Or perhaps someone else, that they never knew at all. There is reverence and fear and uncertainty. It's messy.

Elrond himself is coming to peace with this by the War of Wrath. There is love in carrying the parts of your ancestors with you, even when they aren't around any more. And he knows better than anyone that he is always himself, first and foremost. Still, it takes everyone else a while to stop seeing a ghost and start seeing Elrond.

#silmarillion #silm headcanons #elrond #elrond peredhel #eldritch peredhel #maglor #maedhros #kidnap fam #earendil #elwing #luthien #it's Elrond hours in my brain again #*holds gently* #he deserves everything #he's never met any of his grandparents or other ancestors but he still has something from all of them

[lendmyboyfriendahand]

Crack fic where Maedhros and Maglor have no concept of half elven ages

__

"We can't take them back with us," Maedhros said.

"They're just children though, they won't survive on their own!"

"That's exactly the point!"

"What do you mean? I know children won't be much use in the fortress, but we can feed two spare mouths."

"They're far too young for us to be able to care for them."

"Come on, they look like they're at least twenty. I'm sure they know calculus and how to spin by now, even if they're not yet tall and strong enough for more."

"You haven't been keeping track of diplomatic news, or indeed of time at all. We sacked Doriath not three decades ago, and Elwing their mother was an infant then."

"Humans grow fast." Maglor shrugged. "She obviously grew enough to have children, and within a year or two."

"Gil-Galad mentioned that Elwing gave birth to twin boys in a letter only six years ago. And before you ask, I'm sure she didn't also have older children, these were very clearly the first heirs for the Iathrim."

"What? But - they're so tall!"

"Like you say, men grow fast. They grow unevenly though, without enough time to learn everything properly. Those boys may not even know their letters, or how to identify pewter from lead."

"At six years old, what do they even eat? Celebrimbor nursed until he was nearly eight!"

"They might be old enough to survive weaning, but I'm not sure, and we have no one breastfeeding in our camp at the moment, without anyone born since the Nirnaeth."

"I've heard of using cow's milk or sheep's milk to feed babies, rather than just making cheese. Do you think they'd tolerate it?"

"Maybe, but we can't be sure. It's better to leave them here with all the other people who's homes we destroyed; there were enough babies wailing during the battle someone can surely take in the princes."

"Perhaps, if anyone finds them in the next day. Most people fled the city, and I doubt they'll return before the fires die down."

"I'm not going to take in infants just to let them starve."

"Me neither! But I can ask them if they're weaned. They understand Sindarin, and talk, at least enough to call for their mother."

"A child that young will just say they eat nothing but honey and cake, if you let them choose their diet."

"If they know they like cake, that means they can eat solids, and I'll give them normal food."

"Fine. You can ask them, and if they're weaned they'll survive as well with us as any where else."

"And if they're not?"

"I send a couple scouts to follow the sounds of screaming children and deliver two more."

"Maedhros!"

"What? I can't bring their mother back, nor can my most imperious command make someone lactate."

"So you're giving up?"

"No, I already told you my plan." Maedhros sighed. "And I will send a few people to look for goats or ewes we can take with us. We already sacked the city; might as well loot it."

"You're convinced to make everything the most horrible possible."

"Excuse me for being pessimistic when our brothers just died for nothing."

"Fine, I'm going."

"Good."

#silm #silmarillion #my fic #kidnap fam #kidnap dads #maedhros #maglor #inspred by that post going around about babies in fantasy settings raised in caves

[queen-dahlia]

𝐃𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞 𝐓𝐨 𝐁𝐢𝐠 𝐁𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫, 𝐎𝐤𝐚𝐲?

Note: Translation is not 100% accurate. Expect grammatical errors.

// : alternate translation | ⫘⫘ : flashback

I want to apologize for one thing to the rabbit who became a child.   //   There is one thing I would like to apologize to the little rabbit who has become a child.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Gilbert: "What are you doing here?"

Tough Guy: "Ah, I’m sure this has nothing to do with you, but stay back, you idiot!"

Gilbert: "What? It's creepy to stare at me."

Gilbert: "Can I crush your eyes?"

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

I thought I was being careful at the time, but I let out murderous intent.

The feeling of the baby rabbit trembling in my arms is still fresh in my mind.

Gilbert: "Emma, please."

Emma: "Wow, sparkles!"

Emma's little hands hold the suncatcher she just bought.

It was made from a collection of colorful gemstones, which scattered light around it through the sunlight.

Emma: "Are you sure?"

Gilbert: "Of course. I'm happy if the little rabbit is happy too.''

Emma: "Thank you. I will make it my treasure!"

Emma was so pleased with the "sparkles" that she wouldn't take her eyes off them.

It's not an uncommon commodity at ore festivals, but for Emma, it doesn't seem to matter.   //   It's not an uncommon item at an ore festival, but that doesn't seem to matter to Emma.

(You don't seem to be forcing yourself to be happy.)

(I hope that the scary memory from earlier will fade away soon...)

Gilbert: "Emma, there's a delicious sweet shop over there."

Emma: "Sweets!"

Gilbert: "Do you want some?"

Emma: "I want to eat!"

Gilbert: "Let's go, then."

I hold Emma's hand, still distracted by the suncatcher, and start walking away.

As I was about to head to the candy shop I wanted to visit, I felt a small resistance.

I stopped my steps and followed the gaze of those round eyes.

Before I knew it, she was staring at a small park in a corner of the city.

In a park that has only recently been developed using national funds,

Children about the same age as Emma are now playing happily.

(Is she… tempted to get in there?)

If it is an adult Emma, I would not let her get involved with people as much as possible because of jealousy, but I have no intention of tying her up as a child.

Perhaps it was because I had very different feelings about (little) Emma than I did about the adult Emma, but I was willing to be forgiving now.

Gilbert: "Go ahead."

Emma huffs as I let go of her hand.   //   When I let go of her hand, Emma gasped.

Emma: "What about Gil?"

Gilbert: "I'll wait here for you."

Emma: "Are you just waiting?"

Gilbert: "Then I'll watch the little rabbit play all day long."

Gilbert: "If you look like you’re having fun, I’m having fun too."

Emma: "…"

Emma's gaze keeps going back and forth between me and the park.

After making a pretense of hesitation, a small hand grasped my cold fingers.

Emma: "I knew it."   //   "As I thought."

Gilbert: "Why?"

Emma: "Because I wanted to be with Gil."

Gilbert: "It's written all over your face that you want to play with those kids."

Emma: "That's not true!"

Gilbert: "I know a liar when I see one."

Emma: "Then I'll play with Gil!"

Emma puffs out her cheeks and starts walking, pulling me by the hand.

The destination seemed to be in the park, and when I stopped in front of a swing, she asked me to sit down with her gaze.

Gilbert: "Maybe you'd have more fun playing with the other kids than me?"

Emma: "It's much more fun with Gil!"

(Did you care about me?)

(No, no matter how Emma is, she's still a child, so I can't believe that.)

When I give up and sit on the swing, Emma jumps onto my lap.

(... I can't help it.)

When I swung Emma slowly so she wouldn't fall, her innocent face blossomed. **

Emma: "Gil, more, more!"

Gilbert: "Emma has courage, doesn’t she?"

I kick the ground, thinking about my physical strength and trying to live up to expectations because I have been hoped for.   //   Since I was expected to, I tried to live up to her expectations and kicked the ground while thinking about my physical strength.

Although Emma was innocently enjoying herself, there was something smoldering in her chest.

══════════════════

Emma: "Sparkle... sparkle..."

Back at the Imperial Castle, Emma never gets tired of looking at the suncatchers.

I could even hear what sounded like singing and could tell what kind of mood she was in.

Gilbert: "Do you like it that much?"

When I sat down a little further away and asked, Emma turned around quickly.

Emma: "Yeah! It's so beautiful."

Emma: "And you know what, those sparkles... they're just like Gil's eyes!"

A small finger indicated a red gemstone that stood out among the suncatchers made of multiple gems.

(Speaking of...)

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Emma: "But you know what sparkles the most?"

Gilbert: "Oh, isn't that a gem?"

Emma: "Nope!"

Emma: "Gil's red eye is the most sparkling and beautiful."

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

I chuckle at the memory.

Gilbert: "I wonder if my eye sparkles that much."

Emma: "Yeah, it sparkles. But you know..."

Emma: "Sometimes the sparkle just disappears."

Gilbert: "Disappear?"

Emma nods, releases her hand from the suncatcher, and runs over on her little feet.

And then she tugged at my clothes and tilted my face as if listening to a secret conversation.

Emma: "You know, you know."

Emma: "When Gil isn't sparkling, he looks lonely."

little Emma is talking about Gil's eye here.

Gilbert: "…"

(... It's my first time hearing that.)

(Yeah, but... maybe it's the difference between keeping your eyes down or not.)

Adults and children alike always look up when Emma is around.

I can't take my eyes off Emma, and when the sunlight hits her, her eyes may seem to sparkle.

(But I don't really pay much attention to the others.)

Of course, it's not like I haven't seen it at all, but I'm not interested.

I've never been conscious of it, but I seem to spend more time with my eyes downcast.

(Emma, as a child, is really watching closely.)

As I admire her, Emma raises her hands up.

When I picked her up, she looked like she was in a "hold me" pose, but when I picked her up, her little hands grabbed the fluff (of the cape) firmly—

Emma: "See, it's still sparkling."

Emma: "Sparkling like jewels!"

Her innocent eyes peered into my face, and my cheeks unconsciously relaxed.

Gilbert: "... I see."

Gilbert: "Maybe the reason you didn't go to the other kids at the park is because I'm not sparkling anymore?"

Emma: "Yes. When Gil isn't sparkling, things get a little tight here.''

Emma indicated the chest by saying, 'here.'

(I didn't mean to restrict you, though.)

It is no different for child Emma and adult Emma to react to loneliness that has come out unconsciously.

Gilbert: "I'm sorry."

Emma: "…?"

Gilbert: "Hehe, it’s okay if you don’t understand."

Gilbert: "In return, gentle one, I'll tell you big brother's secret."   //   "In exchange, I will tell you big brother's secret, who is kind to you."

Emma's eyes light up in response to the word "secret."

(I think you're more sparkly than I am.)

Gilbert: "When big brother is sparkling, that's when he thinks, "I love you, little rabbit.""

Emma: "!"

Gilbert: "But don't tell anyone, because it's embarrassing."

Emma: "All right!"

Emma clings happily with a big smile on her face.

(You probably knew intuitively that I was a scary person in the back alley...)

(You still feel attached to me.)

Gilbert: "You're so cute… Please love me forever."   //   "You're so cute… You'll always love me."

Emma: "Yes! Gil, you'll always, always love me, too."

Gilbert: "Hmm, of course."

(I know my "likes" are not always good for you, but...)

That is not something I should say to the little baby rabbit.

Gilbert: "Don't forget your promise to big brother, okay?"

#サイバード #イケメン王子 #ギルベルト=フォン=オブシディアン #ikemen prince #ikemen prince gilbert von obsidian #ikemen prince gilbert #ikeprince #ikeprince gilbert von obsidian #ikeprince gilbert #gilbert von obsidian #ikeprince jp #ikepri jp #ikeprince translation #ikemen prince spoilers #ikeprince spoilers #ikepri spoilers #dahlia's bad translation

[clavissionary-position]

Ikeprinces As Ranked By Gilbert

**Best enjoyed after reading Gil’s route. There are also spoilers of varying degrees from some sequel routes (Chev, Licht).

1. LUKE

Luke: I’m surprised I got the top spot. Don’t you and Chevvie go way back? Gilbert: That’s true, but you’re my adorable little kid brother. I’ve carried you on my back. You’ve carried me on your back. Good times. Luke: Aw, Dad… (bear-hugs Gil) Gilbert: (pouts as he struggles to breathe) Did you even… hear a word of what I said… Luke: I heard ‘kid’. That makes ya my dad, right?

2. CHEVALIER

Gilbert: So? What do you think? Chevalier: (ignores him and continues doing paperwork) Gilbert: (high-pitched voice) “Please, oh please, Gil! Please trample my country to the ground, rebuild it in your image and then run it for me!” Something like that, right? Gilbert: (dodges pebble) Ahh, sorry, sorry. It would probably be more like “Please, oh please, Eyepatch!" Gilbert: (dodges another pebble) What is going on here? Do you roll around in the garden before coming to work every day?

3. CLAVIS

Clavis: (stiff smile) I baked you one of my most sought-after creations as thanks. I’d be honored if you’d try it, Lord Gilbert. Gilbert: Hmm, it looks as unappetizing as I expected but smells delicious. Oh, and... (sniffs) ...you even infused it with my favorite poison! Clavis: Hahaha! Well, I didn’t want you to get the idea that I’d learned nothing about you during all our years working together. Gilbert: Of course, of course. Would you like to share this with me Clavis: (stiff smile) No, no, no. It’s best enjoyed alone. Please, I insist.

4. RIO

Rio: If you’re trying to use me to get to my mistress, then I’ll— Gilbert: You misunderstand me. (Sets down two plates of pain perdu and places his hand on Rio’s) I really do commiserate with you, you know. It’s not easy seeing the one you love go off to be with another man. And yet you gladly sacrifice your own happiness. As though it were someone else's joy to give away. Rio: It is. My joy belongs to my mistress. Gilbert: Hmph? Let's see. Pain perdu means ‘lost bread’, right? Poor, poor abandoned little toast, molding under the table. Gilbert: Oh, by the way. I asked the little rabbit if I could bring these to you on her behalf. (Proceeds to eat all the pain perdu himself) Rio: (smiles brightly) So I’ve heard you love exercising!

5. SILVIO

Silvio: (kicks down the door) Where's the list? Gilbert: (innocently sips tea) So you can tear it up? Did you think I didn't make copies to send to every one of your little merchant friends? Silvio: My real friends know what's up. Gilbert: What a hurtful thing to say. I’m just honoring our friendship. And buttering you up for future manipulation. Silvio: Tch. I don’t know what game you’re playing— Gilbert: Human chess. Silvio: —but I’ll buy up every damn piece before you can get your filthy little mitts on 'em. Gilbert: Hehe, splendid. (Sits back with a smile) What’s more fun than controlling someone who controls everything else?

6. KEITH

Keith: Picked me over the other guy, did ya? Gilbert: Oh, he’s on the list too, of course. But I can’t stand how much of a do-gooder he is. And besides, you’re much more fun to play with. Keith: That right? I’m usually the one doing the teasing around here, though. Gilbert: (looks around dramatically) Around here? Where only a handful of people even know you exist? Tell me, if a tree falls and no one’s there to hear it, does it make a sound? Keith: >:0

7. KEITH

Keith: (hangs head) So you know… about him… Gilbert: Ahaha, there's no need to look so down! You haven’t done anything wrong, have you? It’s all him, right? If only he’d just disappear and stop taunting you from Spot #6. Keith: N-No! I don’t want that! I don’t… think I want that… Keith: Yes, I’m sure of it. He and I can share our friends. Gilbert: (stops smiling) Sharing only works if you can fully trust the other person to not take advantage of your kindness. You may think you can do that now, but people change. Circumstances change. The galette must one day burn. Keith: :’(

8. JIN

Jin: (thoroughly unamused) How kind of you. Gilbert: Isn’t it? But you should know that I’ve got nothing against you personally. Whatever enmity there is between us stems primarily from you. If you weren’t royalty, we might have even co-brothered Luke together. Jin: (throws up in his mouth) I don’t see how that has anything to do with this. And you’re the most detested royal figurehead on the continent. Gilbert: (shrugs) I’d say I’m sorry you can’t see past that, but I’d be lying if I claimed there was anything there to be seen in the first place. Thanks for the lollypop. Jin: What? HEY—

9. SARIEL

Sariel: (stops as soon as he enters his office) What are these vermin doing here? Gilbert: (sitting in Sariel’s chair) Just a little gift I brought so I could congratulate you for making it onto my list. Would you like to do the honors? Sariel: (plucks him up by the fur) Am I to understand you’re giving me a chance to correct my oversight before you take things into your own hands? Gilbert: (brushes himself off) I expect you to do most if not all of the work since my hands are tied while I’m a visiting guest here. But I’m happy to take them under my wing if you can’t even do that much. Sariel: “Kill them, or be forced to kill them,’ is it? (glances at the tied-up assassins) I wonder which one of us they would consider a fate worse than death.

10. LEON

Leon: (glares) I take it you only stuck me on here out of diplomatic courtesy. Gilbert: Haha, maybe. But there’s something about you that’s always reminded me of someone I know. Leon: Whoever it is, I feel bad for the guy. Gilbert: (bittersweet smile) You might be right. Maybe I need to do better by him…

11. LICHT

Licht: Do I know you? Gilbert: I was wondering the same thing, to be honest. But I’ve seen you around the palace enough times that I figured I might as well throw you on here. Gilbert: Nice eyes by the way, hehe. Licht: Oh no you don’t. My only family is Nokto.

12. NOKTO

Gilbert: Oh. There are two of you. Must be nice having an identical twin. (Resting his chin in his hand) Do you two switch places a lot? Nokto: You never noticed before today? Never received a report from one of your spies about it? Gilbert: Oh no, what sort of boring activities do you think I have my spies do all day? Nokto: Well, for starters, you sure seem to have paranormal insight into the contents of our kitchen at any given moment. Gilbert: So you'd rather I left all the carrots where they are? Nokto: ...

...

.......

................

Yves: Prince Gilbert!

Gilbert: (stops but doesn’t turn around)

Yves: I saw your list, and I couldn’t help but notice—

Gilbert: No, I believe you noticed everything you were meant to.

Gilbert: (leaves to go find the little rabbit to fix his bad mood)

#ikemen prince #ikepri spoilers #gilbert von obsidian #jin grandet #chevalier michel #clavis lelouch #leon dompteur #yves kloss #licht klein #nokto klein #luke randolph #rio ortiz #sariel noir #silvio ricci #keith howell #ikepri ranked

[celiciaa]

GILBERT VON OBSIDIAN EVENT STORY....

PREMIUM.

Together with the prince.

translations are not 100% accurate. expect mistakes.

trigger warning: mention of blood.

MINORS DNI.

━━FLASHBACK━━

Emma: I want my big brother to love me!

Emma: Even so…maybe I don't want to see him just yet.

Emma: …I want to love my big brother as much as he loves me.

Emma: So don't tell anyone...Gil.

━━FLASHBACK ENDS━━

(Sorry, Emma.)

(….The boy you fell in love with is no longer around.)

With one chamber empty and a gun in my pocket, I walked past the waiting soldiers.

There was once a boy who sincerely wished for the happiness of others and devoted himself to it.

An ignorant boy who did not know the dark side of humanity, he felt happiness every time someone laughed.

It is now a distant memory.

I frowned at the smell of blood.

Emma: ——Ah, Gil, gimme!

Gilbert: Eh, no way?

The next day, I brought a large amount of sweets to the laboratory and held a tea party.

Emma, who was sitting on my lap, grabbed my finger with her little hand.

Emma: Big brother Roderich told me earlier that eating too much sweets is not good.

(He says unnecessary things.)

Gilbert: I'm hungry.

Emma: ….What? Gil, you were eating a lot, aren’t you?

Gilbert: I haven't eaten at all. Only a little bit.

Emma: ….Huh?

Gilbert: Emma's a sweet girl, so she won't be mean to me when I'm hungry, will she?

When I smiled at her, she swallowed her words.

Emma: If your stomach is grumbling...fine, I'll let you off the hook.

Gilbert: Hehe, thank you. Emma needs to eat more too.

Emma: I'm full.

(…You only ate a few cookies, but I guess the little rabbit had a small appetite.)

(However, I have found that you prefer the ones with dried fruit mixed into the regular cookies.)

I chuckle as I learn yet another piece of information I didn't know before.

I was immersed in a strange sense of accomplishment, knowing that I had made the sweets by imitating the adult little rabbit.

I realized…that I was being peered into by those round eyes.

Gilbert: What?

Emma: Gil, is something wrong?

Gilbert: I don't think so. Why?

Emma: You're not looking well today.

(….)

Emma: …I wonder what I can do to make you laugh.

(I'm supposed to be smiling all the time.)

When I looked at my face reflected in the glass nearby, my expression was the same as usual.

But what those innocent eyes are looking at may not be the flower, but the root.

Emma: Ah, that's right! I'll introduce my friend to Gil.

(…Friend?)

Emma: "Hello, Gil."

Emma: "If you have any problems, I'm here to help you."

The little rabbit returned to my room with great enthusiasm, and what she held in her hands was a stuffed black tiger.

I couldn't help but blink as I realized that it hadn't happened until yesterday.

Gilbert: Who gave you this?

Emma: Big brother Walter. As an apology for making me cry.

Gilbert: Ah, I see?

(Heh...he can sew not only people, but also stuffed animals.)

Walter probably gave it to her while I was away preparing the sweets.

The choice of the black tiger as a motif shows the utmost consideration, but the omission is unacceptable.

(You look so happy.)

Emma: "Gil, let’s be friends."

The dark emotions that welled up in me calmed down when I saw how hard Emma was trying.

Gilbert: …Are you going to listen to my problems?

Emma: "Roar—!"

The stuffed animal nodded its head.

And I took a small breath.

Gilbert: Hey, Mr. Tiger. I'm a very bad person.

Gilbert: I'm not afraid to do bad things, and I'm better at taking the smiles off people's faces….

Gilbert: The little rabbit said she wanted to make everyone smile, but I can't do that.

Gilbert: I’m afraid the little rabbit will hate me.

(….I don’t know why I’m saying that to a child.)

Sure enough, there was no response from Mr. Tiger.

The little rabbit's brow was furrowed.

Gilbert: Hehe, I asked such a troublesome question.

(What's the point of worrying about such things?)

My problems that I wasn't even aware of until I put it into words.

Just as I was about to change the subject, Emma jumped like a rabbit and clung tightly to my waist.

Emma: I don't hate you.

Emma: But doing bad things is terrible!

Emma: If you do something bad, Gil will feel pain.

Gilbert: Me?

Emma: Yeah. I once lost a book that I borrowed from big brother Akatsuki.

Emma: I couldn’t say it because I'm afraid of being scolded….

Emma: But while I was quiet, my chest kept getting tighter.

Emma: Because I did something wrong and it hurts….

Emma: Isn't it the same for Gil?

("It hurts…")

Such feelings have long since rotted away.

Still, I felt a pain deep in my chest.

It is not guilt for my wrongdoing, but guilt for Emma, who hates murderers.

Emma's words resonate with me because I feel a prickle of emotion that I have never felt before.

Gilbert: I see. ...That's right.

(I'm starting to have some unsettling feelings after meeting you.)

Emma: Hey…Gil, I want you to bend down.

Gilbert: Hm?

I listened to Emma's pleas and bent to my knees.

Emma: Pain, pain go away, don't come again another day.

A small hand reached out and patted me on the head.

(…Does patting on the head mean you forgive me?)

(I'm sure he stroked her when she told him about the book she lost.)

I can easily imagine Akatsuki trying to comfort the crying Emma by patting her on the head.

She knows the feeling of relief at that time, which is probably why she says "there, there" like this.

(A woman who can share the kindness she has received with others…)

(I feel like I've learned a little of the secret of your kindness.)

Gilbert: You are good at encouraging.

Emma: Ehehe…

Emma's face naturally breaks into a smile as she beams with happiness.

Emma: I wonder if one day I'll be like my big brother who is so kind.

Gilbert: I don't think you’ll ever be.

Emma: Eh.

Gilbert: Or rather, don't become like him.

Emma: Why?

Gilbert: Because I want you to stay the way you are.

Gilbert: I think the little rabbit is already more than good enough.

Emma: I don't know….

When I patted her head back, Emma's eyes narrowed pleasantly.

Gilbert: I wanted to thank you for listening to my concerns. Emma, is there anything you want to do?

Emma: Ah, then, just one thing….

Emma: I’d like to play pretend.

Emma: With Gil, big brother Roderich, and big brother Walter…

Emma: We should all play it together!

Gilbert: All right, gladly. What pretend play should we try?

Emma: A hero saving a princess from the big bad demon king.

(Don’t tell me you read those kinds of books. How cute.)

Gilbert: So Emma is the princess, and big brother Walter is the demon king….

Gilbert: How about big brother Roderich should be the demon king's underling while I’m the hero, sounds good?

Emma: Yeah! You've got to come save me, Gil.

Gilbert: Of course.

Emma is really adorable, jumping around like a little rabbit.

(You were exactly the girl I'd imagined, just as I'd heard you would be.)

(I've wanted to meet you. Ever since I was a child….)

When I am infected with evil, I do things that rob others of their smiles.

Even if I met her during our childhood days, nothing would change.

But there is one thing I have gained.

(I’m not going to stop committing evil deeds…)

(When it hurts, pat me on the head.)

I laughed, knowing that the idea itself was evil.

(When I was patted, it became more and more painful….)

(I can feel that there is still a little bit of the old me left.)

 ▸       [  previous / next ]

#ikemen prince #ikepri #ikemen prince spoilers #ikepri jp #ikepri translations #ikemen series #cybird #gilbert von obsidian #ikepri gilbert

[kicktwine]

hey, any advice for ppl just getting into ffxiv? there's so much happening I'm a Little intimidated lmao

yes! actually! ok ok

Slow down. Don’t worry too much about terms and mechanics. The very beginning of FFXIV is very good at teaching you how to fight and how to do things, so long as you pay attention (and read your tooltips! Hover over your skills to read what they do)

if you’re getting lost in the lore, Jesse Cox has a very in depth and spoiler free video on Hydealyn’s history. I would argue you don’t need it, because you can coast by and learn everything you need by osmosis, but if you’re one of those ppl who wants a solid background before going forward it’s a great video!

The very beginning is a little overwhelming because you’re doing job AND main story quests at the same time right off the bat. You can do them at the same time and you’ll be fine, but the stories can get tangled, so you can choose to do blue job quests (they will teach you moves and buttons and stuff!! And unlock moves and buttons!) until you can’t do them anymore then use MSQ to get the experience in between. After you’re around 25-35 you can get a hang of spacing those out and just go ham on MSQ

you’re also learning the map which I can’t help you with i got lost in the shroud and ul’dah so often. click the blue text under the quest name to bring up where it is on the map

and it’s throwing new terms at you a lot. If you need them, it’ll come up again. If they’re not 100% necessary, like crafting and materia melding and stuff, it’ll be there for you to figure out whenever you want to.

If you miss a line of dialogue in a cutscene, which I did sometimes because I was speeding and then something important happened, hit / and then click “event” in your chat log. A log of dialogue will appear!

if you miss a cutscene entirely, go into any inn and click on the unending journey book.

when doing your outfits, go into character and then click the button near the top of your outfit display that says recommended gear. Always wear that. You can glamor over pretty looking outfits later

if you go into system -> HUD layout, you can move hud items around. It’s a little complicated, but I had to move a bunch of stuff to get comfortable!

spending your Gil is fine. you’ll earn it back, just save some for aetheryte teleporting fees for now

i swear you can ignore leves. you can. you can

and fates

you can sell any items (like beastkin blood or animal leather) you get from combat at any vendor by dragging it from your inventory into theirs. Keep food (to eat!), and clothes until they’re far too low level. animal parts you are not going to need ever unless you’re into crafting

hall of the novice is good for getting your grips but dungeons at level 15 are way more effective for learning how to play your class in the actual game

don’t be afraid of being a beginner in the beginning dungeons!!! You are either queuing with other beginners or people who know they’re going to be in an arr dungeon with new players. You have a sprout you’re safe people will 90% of the time be super nice. Let people know you’re new and they’ll help! You got this!!!!!!

once you get your chocobo go find “my feisty little chocobo” it will let the bird fight with you AND OR HEAL YOU (HELPFUL <-BLACK MAGE)

say hi to merlwyb for me-

#ffxiv #ask #anon #hope this wasn’t overwhelming HAH um but just have fun! That is the best advice just go at your own pace #and have fun seek out what’s coolest and most interesting to you #OH BUT MAKE SURE TO DO YOUR JOB QUESTS BEFORE YOU MOVE ON TO THE NEXT EXPANSION just keep those up to date

[dxncingwithastrxnger]

1. uh oh, i'm falling in love

A/N: Hello!!! I said I was gonna write and post this story ages ago and I am so sorry for how long this took!! But now I've finally posted it!!! And chapter 2 is almost finished so look out for that one!! I super hope you enjoy this series and that it was worth the wait!!!!

Pairing(s): Lancelot x GN!Tristan's Twin!Reader (No pronouns specified and I never specify whether they're identical or not, that's completely up to you!)

Summary: The King of Liones throws a party and among all the socializing, Lancelot and (Y/N) decide to spend their time breaking a few rules.

Tags: Alcohol Consumption, Underage Drinking, Meliodas, Fluff, Drunkenness (Is that a word??)

Word Count: 3,088

Song Inspiration: Labyrinth By Taylor Swift

Not beta'd, all mistakes are my own.

~*~

[Series Masterlist]

[Author Masterlist]

[Read on AO3]

~*~

You lean back against the cold stone wall behind you, sighing softly. You can feel the chill of it on your back through the thin fabric of your tunic, but you don't really care much. You’re a bit overheated from the partially crowded dining hall you had been in just a few minutes earlier and you really prefer it much more out here than back in there at the moment.

Nearly everyone you know is there. All four apocalypse knights as well as all their friends, Hendy and Dreyfus, mom and dad, Aunt Margaret and Uncle Gil. It’s a celebration of sorts. It’s someone’s birthday, one of the knights that isn’t Tris or Lance, though you’re not sure which one. Not that your father really needs much of a reason to throw a party anyways, but it is a nice sentiment at least.

It's not that you don't enjoy having fun with everyone, you do, but despite knowing every single person in that room, most of them aren't really your friends. Not including family, there’s only one person in there that you’re close to and by the time everyone had finished eating and scattered into different groups and conversations, you were the only person left by yourself, floundering to figure out what to do next. And so, you came outside to get some air.

"What are you doing now?" A voice says from beside you, the person sounding exasperated.

You turn to the right and crane your neck up towards the doorway leading from the dining hall to the balcony, your (Y/E/C) eyes locking with bright red ones. Your face flushes and you look away, bringing a hand up to rub at the back of your neck sheepishly.

"...sitting outside?" You ask uncertainly.

Lancelot sighs before he's sitting down next to you, so close that his shoulder is touching yours. You suppress a shiver at the warmth he radiates and loosen your hold on your knees, letting your legs stretch out in front of you. You mimic his sitting position, letting your leg touch his as well, and try your best not to think of your reason for doing so.

"(Y/N), you can be friends with them, too. Friendship isn't exclusive, you know." He points out for probably the millionth time in your guys' friendship.

"I know that, Lan, but you've never managed to succeed much in making friends in the past besides me and Tris, especially not an entire group of them, and I really don't wanna get in the way of that. You deserve to just have a group of friends without any interruptions." You tell him with confidence, even though you know it doesn't make much sense in the long run.

"And that wouldn't change just because you are a part of that group. You're my friend, too, my best friend, whether you're friends with the rest of them or not." He tells you, and you can feel his eyes on you, but you force yourself to keep looking away from him for just a little longer.

"Well, still. The five of you guys have a very unique bond and I'm not gonna take the chance of getting in the way of that." You say matter-of-factly.

Your best friend snorts. "Is that the same excuse you use with your brother? Cause I know you have this same argument with him just as much as you do with me."

You groan, throwing your head back and letting it hit the wall, causing a dull ache that you ignore. "Can we not talk about this right now, please?" You finally look at him, your eyes pleading for him to switch topics.

His expression softens as he looks at you and he nods. "Fine. Instead, let's drink." He gets a little grin on his face that's similar to an expression you'd seen on his father's face plenty of times, but at the same time, it's somehow still just all Lancelot. He holds up a dark green bottle and two chalices which had been on the other side of him, out of your line of sight.

You were glad for the conversation change and it was your turn to snort. "What did you sneak away this time?" You ask him knowingly.

He sits up a little straighter rather than slouching against the wall and places the chalices between his legs in front of him. "I have absolutely no idea but I snatched it from one of the castle guards. Heard him bragging about how good it was to one of his buddies, so you know, I thought you and I could test it out just to be sure he wasn't lying." He smirks as he opens up the bottle and starts pouring some for each of you.

You feel a slight flutter in your chest at the thought of him specifically wanting to share it with you and you stay quiet as you inspect the liquid in the chalice he hands you. The alcohol is a light pink color, almost translucent, and the first thing you can think of to compare it to, as random as it is, is Isolde's hair. Maybe a little darker, though. It's pretty. And not at all like any alcohol you'd ever seen or heard of before.

"You sure this is safe to drink?" You ask him sceptically as you turn your face towards him, though your eyes stay on your drink. "This isn't gonna turn out to actually be poison or anything, right?"

​​​​​​You bite your lip as you hear him let out that arrogant chuckle of his under his breath. "No, it's not poison, (Y/N). Now, c'mon, are we drinking or what?" He holds his chalice out and looks at you expectantly.

You shake your worry away and look at him with a small grin, tapping your chalice against his with a soft clink before you both take your first sip. Your eyes widen as the taste hits your tongue. It's sweet, with a slightly bitter undertone, and a deep burn as it slips down your throat that isn't unpleasant and definitely wouldn't be expected based on how sweet it is.

"Damn." Lancelot mutters appreciatively against the lip of his cup.

"Agreed." You mumble before taking a deeper gulp and enjoying it, closing your eyes and humming.

You pull your chalice away from your lips, intent on savoring what's left in it since it's your first time trying it, but Lancelot is gradually relaxing more against your side and the feel of his body still touching yours feels so much nicer than it should and you guys have an entire bottle to yourself and suddenly savoring your drink is the last thing on your mind as you shrug your shoulders and chug the rest of it down, sighing softly at the sweetness of it.

You relish in the taste for a few moments longer before grabbing the bottle from its spot in between Lance’s legs and refilling your chalice, though you misjudge and almost spill some of it over the rim of the cup. You giggle softly at yourself. You're quickly starting to realize that whatever this stuff is, it works fast, but you don't really mind.

"Hey, don't spill any of that, I only got one bottle this time and I don't wanna waste any of it." The boy beside you says sternly and at his words, you put every ounce of your focus into not spilling a single drop of alcohol until your chalice is filled and you hold the bottle out in his general direction.

He takes it from you and you take a long drink, sighing softly in content and slouching back against the wall, allowing your head to tip to the side and land on Lancelot's shoulder. He stiffens slightly beside you even as he leans his head against yours and you wonder if it’s the alcohol. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you have a fleeting thought that it’s strange for you to be so physically close with him, but it was gone as quick as it had come.

It seems that Lancelot's mind, however, lingers on it a little longer. "What are you doing?" He asks you softly, his voice almost a whisper and his words slightly slurring already.

"I'm relaxing." You state like it's obvious, noticing the same slur in your own voice. You take another drink as your eyes close before continuing. "Your shoulder is a really comfy pillow. And you're so warm." You find yourself leaning further into him as the cold wind blows against your mostly uncovered arms.

"(Y/N/N), people could walk right over here and see us like this." He says in that same soft tone, some emotion in his voice that you can't quite place in your current state of mind.

"So what?" You slur, finishing off your second drink. "'S not like we're doin' 'nything. Don' worry 'bout it, Lancey." The nickname you hadn't called him since you were nine slipped out without you asking it to, but thankfully, he doesn't acknowledge it.

You hear him sigh and you open your eyes to see him refilling his own drink and then yours, the bottle now empty. As you bring the chalice to your lips once more, you hear him speak so quietly that you're certain his words are only meant for his own ears, not yours.

"What am I going to do with you, huh?" The question is asked with a voice full of affection and you can't help but smile.

"Ya know, gettin' back to our rooms is gonna be a pain in the ass." You point out. "Next time, you gotta try an' find out how strong the stuff is before we drink it."

"Ah, shit." He curses and you snicker.

"Mmmm, maybe we can jus' sleep righ' here." You suggest, seriously considering it.

He lifts his head off of yours and you can't help but pout slightly as he starts shifting beside you. "We can't jus' sleep here, (Y/N/N). We gotta try and get to our actual beds." He reasons.

You groan as you sit up. "Ugh, why do you gotta be right?" You mumble.

He laughs softly as he sits up, leaning over your legs to nestle the empty bottle and now once again empty chalices into the corner of the balcony beside you. Seeing the action suddenly makes you wonder how he had even snuck any of it onto the balcony in the first place, but you're quickly distracted as Lancelot stands up.

He wobbles slightly as he does, reaching a hand out to steady himself with the wall, then he reaches a hand down to you. You grab it and allow him to help you stand, both of you taking a moment to gather your bearings and get used to standing. The world around you is wobbly and keeps going out of focus, but you have no choice but to force your vision to stay as clear as possible, as you will now have to walk quite a bit before you can get off of your feet again.

Simultaneously, you both step through the doorway and into the dining hall slowly and you squint at the brighter lighting, blinking quickly. "Here goes nothin'." Lancelot says quietly, and you both start making your way across the room as fast as your alcohol-infused brains will allow without either of you falling flat on your face. You manage to avoid catching the attention of anyone else in the room until about halfway to the doors leading to the hallway.

"Everything okay, (Y/N)?" Your dad calls from behind you and you freeze. Neither of you dare turn around, knowing that if you do, he'll immediately know what you and the blonde next to you have been doing. From your slow, uncertain steps to the bright flush that you just know is covering your face, your drunkenness would be completely obvious, and you know Lancelot is in a similar state.

You try to force your voice into some semblance of normal, trying to keep from slurring. "Yeah, F-Father, 'im fine." You tell him. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Lancelot nod his head in agreement with your statement.

Your dad gives a small hum as you blink and suddenly he's right beside you. Your eyes widen and you hear Lancelot choke before trying to cover it up with a cough. Your dad's expression is the same as always, just a casual, neutral expression that gives away none of his actual thoughts. However, in one of his hands is a bottle, and in his other is two empty chalices. None of the items ever had any special markings. Those could be any two chalices. That could be any old bottle of alcohol. But knowing your father, you know for a fact that they're the exact items that you and Lance had just left behind on the balcony.

You internally curse as you give your father an uncertain and sheepish grin. Your dad doesn't say anything else or react at all at first, but then he adjusts his hold on the chalices so that he can hold the bottle with the same hand as well, leaving one of his hands free. He suddenly gives his signature grin and his hand pats your back. It would've been a perfectly normal gesture except his hand comes down a little more forcefully than normal, causing you to stumble forward and almost fall on your face.

"Well, that's good! Go rest up, 'kay? We got a big day tomorrow!" He starts walking away but stops to do the same back patting move on Lancelot before he's moved across the room to do something else.

You and Lancelot turn to look at each other with wide eyes before you both turn forward and move as quickly as you can to get out of the room and into the hallway. Once the doors to the dining hall close behind you, you loop your arm with his without much thought to it, but you end up needing the support anyways as the two of you stumble through the halls.

Once you make it to your door, Lancelot starts to pull his arm away from yours, but you're quick to latch onto it again. "You gotta help me get to my bed." You whine softly, not caring much how you sound at this point.

He chuckles softly and the sound fills you up with a slight giddiness. "'Kay, fine." He says, pushing your doors open.

You both stumble into the room as the closing of the doors leave you in the very dim lighting of your bed chambers. You walk further into the room before your foot hits the corner of the long rug across the floor and you trip, falling forward. You yelp as you hit the ground and you hear a curse from beside you. You realize that you were still holding onto Lancelot's arm and had ended up dragging him down with you.

"'M sorry." You mumble quietly.

"'S fine." He reassures me.

You realize that you should probably get up now, but you're starting to get sleepy and your carpet is soft and you feel yourself sagging more into it. You look beside you to see Lancelot flipping over onto his back.

"Floor's comfy." He says softly.

You hum your agreement and after a moment of hesitation, you roll over and snuggle right up to him, your head going onto his shoulder and your arm throwing itself loosely over his chest and waist.

He gasps softly, freezing up, and you think for a moment that maybe you shouldn't have just done that. You're not really sure why you did it in the first place. Ever since laying your head on his shoulder earlier on, you had wondered what it would be like to snuggle all the way into his side, what it would be like to maybe even have his arms completely wrapped around you. You refuse to admit it right in this moment, but you’ve been wondering these types of things for awhile now, despite knowing you probably shouldn't. He’s your childhood best friend, you should see him as a brother, not as a potential romantic connection. But deep down you know that these feelings for him are inevitable considering you’ve had them for years. And so, when you saw him just laying there, you couldn't help yourself. It was like an instinct.

But now you’re wondering if he's been uncomfortable with you being all over him as you recall the way he stiffened earlier and the way he questioned your actions. You push away from him, opening your mouth and getting ready to apologize, when he suddenly beats you to it.

"No, wait-" His voice is suddenly filled with a strange sense of panic as his arm quickly curls around you and pulls you back against him, your head coming to rest on his chest this time, though neither of you voice any complaints. Your arm goes back around his torso as his stays curled around your waist. "Stay, please." He says in a tone of voice that even you very rarely hear from him. It’s pleading, vulnerable. Almost afraid, in a way. Of what, you aren't quite sure. But you aren't going to question him about it, not sure you'd even get an answer if you did.

"Okay." You try your best to pronounce the whole word, feeling it important to do so. "'M here." You say, trying your best to reassure whatever fears are currently nestled into that strange brain of his.

He suddenly turns onto his side and wraps his other arm around you as well, pulling you closer, your face in his chest and his face in your hair. The motion was quick, like he was in a hurry to do it. You relax completely, practically melting into him and the floor under you. You're completely surrounded by him and suddenly you want nothing more than to stay here for the rest of your life.

You nuzzle your face against his shirt as your eyelids start to droop. It's been a long day and the alcohol coursing through your system hasn't added to your energy at all. The last thing you hear before you fall asleep is Lancelot mumbling something that sounds like, "Smells nice." As he burrows his face further into your hair.

~*~

A/N: What do y'all think?? Please let me know!! I should have chapter 2 finished soon, there's going to be both a male!reader version of it and a female!reader version of it. Pronouns still aren't specified, but there's a certain part of the chapter that differs greatly depending on gender, tbh, so if you'd like to be tagged for the next chapter, let me know which version you'd like to be tagged for!! You can also ask to be tagged for both versions if you'd like to be!!! Thank you for reading!!!

~*~

Taglist:

@kalopsiakey

Let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist!!!

#purple_strxnger #purple_strxnger_stories #strxngermasterlists #au #lancelot #lancelot x reader #4kota lancelot #4kota lancelot x reader #4kota #4kota fanfiction #4kota fanfic #4kota au #gn reader #lancelot x y/n

[iguana-eyanna]

Hey love your fanfics. I was wondering if you could write a potato x reader fanfic he asks the reader to be his girl and gives her his jacket and it’s all cute please ?

T🪽Birds request: My Sister and My Best Friend?!

a/n: I recently been watching Friends and I knew the PERFECT episode that would fit this fic!

Being Gil's younger sister was a blessing and a curse. The blessing was no one dared to mess with a Rizzo. The bad news was, every boy was scared to ask you out.

Born a year apart, you two were very close. Gil was very overprotective of all of his sisters, but now that you were in the same high school as him surrounded by possible boyfriends, all that Gil could see was red.

He even strictly told his friends that none of them should even bat an eyelash at you. They've respected Gil's wishes of course, but one friend just couldn't control what he felt for you.

And that would be Potato.

There was no denying that there was chemistry between you two. He tried to think that you two were nothing but good friends... chumps... associates.

But he can't say that now as you two were in your room, sitting by your bed as you two were making out.

"We - need - to - stop - this." Potato said between kisses.

"A - greed." you replied between your kisses, but you couldn't help it. Your kisses became more passionate and filled with fire.

You were able to softly push him away as both of you needed air.

"This is much better than making out in the janitor's closet." You remarked.

Potato chuckled as he combs his messy gelled hair back.

"Yeah that room had no light whatsoever, and now I could see more of your beautiful face." He whispered as he pulled you closer. You smiled as you two began to kiss more until -

"Sis! I'm home!" Gil said out loud.

You and Potato freeze as you look at your closed door that was locked.

"I thought you said no one would be home tonight!" Potato whispered.

"And you told me that Gil would be fixing his car!" You said, as Gil often stayed at the auto shop after hours.

"So we're both wrong!" Potato whispered screamed.

"Sis?" Gil asked again as you could hear his footsteps come closer to your room.

"Hide!" You said, pushing Potato down as he rolled under your bed.

You got up and slightly opened your door so Gil won't be too suspicious that you had your door locked.

"Hey Gil, what's up bro?" You said a bit too quickly.

Gil quirks an eyebrow as he looks at you.

"The gang is downstairs eating a pizza. You're welcome to join us but you're just going to snitch on me, are you?"

You roll your eyes, crossing your arms.

"I'm not going to snitch on you, I have secrets of my own too, you know." You lightly tease.

"Pshhh, yeah right Mother Mary. You're quite the risk taker."

Gill looks at you and sees how your hair was kinda a mess and your wearing lipstick that was slightly smudged.

"Why you look like that?" Gil asks.

"It's a... new look! All the rage in France!" You tried convincing him. He knits his eyebrows more and pushes your door opened as he looks in your room.

"You can't barge in like this!" You screamed at Gil.

"Who's in here?" He asks, searching your closet.

"No one, Gil! Get out!" You screamed out.

"I am no leaving this room until I know what's going on!"

"Achoo!" Potato sneezed under the bed.

"Bless you!" Gil screamed back, still scrimmaging in your closet.

Gil immediately stopped as he realized that wasn't you that sneezed.

Looking almost murderous, he turns around and kneels down by your bed, grabbing an arm and sees that he pulled out his friend.

"WHAT. ARE. YOU. DOING. HERE?!" Gil yelled out.

"Uhhhhhh, looking for dust bunnies?" Potato replied nervously.

Gil was about to punch him until you tried pulling back his arm.

"Let go of him, Gil!" You said.

Suddenly, you hear a bunch of feet coming at the door and the gang sees you trying to separate the two.

"A little help?!" you yelled at Gil's friends.

Richie and Shy Guy hold back Gil, but they could tell his sheer goal to strangle Potato.

"I can't believe it! My sister and my best friend?!" Gil screamed out loud.

"Look, Gil, I know this kinda looks bad -"

"Kinda?"

"But it's not like that!" Potato defended.

You stand with Potato as you held his hand.

"We're not fooling around, Gil. I really like him. He treats me like a princess, don't you want my boyfriend to be a gentleman?" You ask.

"I'm your boyfriend?" Potato asks.

"Of course you are." You reassured him as you gave him a loving look, wrapping your arms around his waist.

"Hey, I'm still here!" Gil caught your guys' attention.

You look at your brother who had his hands on his waist, looking down at the ground and then back at you.

"You promise to treat her right?" Gil asks Potato.

"I will." Potato replied.

Gil smiled and gave Potato a hug.

"If you break her heart, I'll throw you in the meat grinder." Gil whispered for only Potato to hear.

"Duly noted." Potato replied before the two friends let go.

Gil goes up to you, realizing you're not a little kid anymore. You were a young woman, and he was proud that you stood up to him.

"You're still my sis, and I'll always be over protective of you."

"I know, thanks for having my back." You said, knowing Gil always had your best interest at heart.

"Finally, now everyone knows." Cynthia said with relief.

Gil looks up, confused.

"Wait, how many of you guys knew about them?"

Everyone tensed up and started making excuses to go downstairs. Olivia goes up to Gil.

"C'mon, let's leave these two alone for a bit." She pulled him away before he could protest.

"Man, that went better than expected." Potato said, feeling like he can finally breathe now.

"I'm surprised there's not a lot of bloodshed." You teased. You two broke out in a fit of laughter as he held you.

"Shall we go downstairs to eat with them?" You ask.

"Yeah, but I feel like something is missing." He says, making you confused. He looks around your room and grabs his jacket, holding it nervously.

"You know, in case you feel chilly." He says, but secretly gushing if you could wear it.

You smile and you turned around so he could drape it around your shoulders.

"It's perfect." You said, turning back to him.

You two smiled at each other and shared a sweet kiss before leaving downstairs to join your friends. As you all sat around, laughing together, Potato just thought he was the luckiest guy in the world to have you.

And you both are so excited to see what's in store for you.

#potato gonzalez #potato gonzalez x reader #potato #potato x reader #grease rise of the pink ladies #rise of the pink ladies #grease rotpl #rotpl

[softquietsteadylove]

Thenamesh receptionist AU: Gil is sick and Thena takes care of him :)

Thanks for your amazing prompts and fics! Love them all and love you too 😁❤️

Thena looks up when another coughing fit breaks the silence. She looks at the doors to the office behind her desk. She's been working here for a few months now, and she might even dare to say that she's gotten to know her boss a little bit, by now.

Everyone always asks if she knows what she's doing, or why she works for the company, let alone as a personal receptionist to the CEO. But she always says that she likes living in Korea, she likes the change in jobs from what she did back home at the museum. And she likes him--Gilgamesh.

He's nice, even though people keep warning her that he's some kind of monster. Certainly, he might seem scary on the outside. He's a mountain of a man, and she can see how his scowl might come off as intimidating.

But he's also nice--kind of sweet, really. He never says as much, but she knows that he's done things like make a note of which restaurants are her favourite to order lunch from, or ordering her a car service home when it's late and he doesn't want her to walk alone.

Thena pokes her head into his office, bringing in a tray with some barley tea as well as a few papers that need signing. She keeps it to herself when she sees the cold medicine on his desk and catches him while he's wiping his nose.

"Thanks," he mumbles as she places them down in front of him. He turns in his chair.

His eyes are bloodshot, the tip of his nose is red from agitation, and he even looks faintly flushed, surely from a fever. He's wearing a business suit, like usual, but he has his suit jacket on. And his sleeves aren't rolled up to the elbows (both an indication that he's cold).

Thena makes note of all of these things in her head as she watches him scribble out his name on everything.

"You okay?"

Thena looks up, not just at the question, but how he asks it in English. They speak in English often, since he spent some time in his youth in America. Something he has apparently not told a single other soul, since people are shocked whenever they hear the boss is fluent in it. "Sorry?"

"Are you okay?" he repeats, setting aside the last paper and picking up his tea. He takes one sip and winces as he swallows it. His throat is sore. "You seem kinda...distracted."

"Sorry," she says softly, attempting to smile at him. She can see on his face that he doesn't really believe her, but doesn't want to - or maybe know how to - ask further. "You still have a meeting at 4 today with Jasmine bank."

"Right." He sighs just a little, and his shoulders sink visibly.

Thena taps her fingers against the tea tray in her hands, "I can...cancel it, if you wanted to reschedule."

"No, no, I've been putting it off for too long already," Gilgamesh grumbles, folding his arms around himself. He really is cold. "Although, maybe..."

"Maybe?" Thena prompts him, eager to do anything that might help him in his current state.

He looks at her, the scary-boss face gone and just Gilgamesh's almost-cute face in place of it. "Maybe...they could do 3 instead of 4?"

Thena does her best to contain her smile, "I'll call them."

"Thank you," he gives her an exceedingly rare smile. Their eyes meet and something in his face changes, "Thena."

She nods and turns; sometimes she gets a shiver when he says her name. She doesn't really know what that means, but she still thinks she would rather keep it to herself.

She returns to her desk, already picking up the phone and dialing the number and extension for the representative with whom Gilgamesh deals. She exchanges pleasantries with him and asks if they can move their meeting ahead in the day, due to an unforeseen opening.

He asks how far forward. She asks for his earliest opening possible. He offers just after lunch, 1:30 at the latest. She thanks him for his consideration and his time.

She hangs up the phone, clicking around on her screen and scrolling through her options. This...might be a bad idea.

Gilgamesh sneezes into another tissue and tosses it away when Thena re-enters his office. He tugs at his jacket, which is now even buttoned up.

Thena lingers by the door, turning up the thermostat for the room, despite his usually strict rules about it. "They asked if you could do after lunch. The rest of your day is technically free, so I figured-"

"Great!" He's so visibly, clearly elated. Obviously it's the only reason he's here in the office today. His smile is so nice, she briefly wonders what she could do to see it more often. He clears his throat and settles into his seat again more quietly. "Order whatever you want, I'll be-"

"Actually," Thena starts, and then pauses almost immediately. Is this a bad idea? It's definitely not the best idea. Yes, Gilgamesh is nice, but she's also already overstepped today (and lied to him about it). Maybe this is nosy of her. Maybe he'll tell her to mind her own business.

"What?" he prompts her, looking genuinely curious, if a little worried.

Thena steps into the room, clasping a bag in her hands. She walks over to his desk, hoping she doesn't look foolish as she sets the delivery down in front of him. "I, um, noticed you seem...under the weather."

"Oh."

She steps back, increasingly aware of her increasingly warm cheeks. "I know you love sundubu jjigae, and I've had it from a place around the corner from me more times than I can count. I thought the soup might be good f-"

"Thena."

Her shoulders draw up automatically, just a little. She looks up at him, half expecting for him to tell her that this isn't the kind of thing for which he hired her.

But he's got that smile on again. Although maybe it isn't as bright, but it's so soft, and so warm. She feels like she's being hugged just by witnessing it. He clutches the bag to him as if she's given him a very personal gift. "Thank you for thinking of me."

Thena clasps her hands in front of her, at a loss as to what else to do with them. She offers him a smile, feeling much more bashful than she did a moment ago. "I-I'm sure you could go home after your meeting, if you so desired."

He chuckles as he unpacks the soup and various sides. His eyes light up when he sees the rice she ordered as extra. She knows that he likes to stir it into the soup. "You're spoiling me."

Thena is already turning as she mutters out, "ordering your lunch is part of my job, actually."

It is. Although maybe feeling nervous and embarrassed about it isn't usually part of it. And maybe she doesn't necessarily have to know all his favourite dishes to get from the different restaurants they patron. And maybe it's not part of her job to turn the heat up for him yet again on her way out and back to her desk.

She's just...being a good employee.

#Thenamesh Receptionist AU #going back in time a little bit #I don't know if this is what you had in mind #but I watched a video of how to make kimchi jjigae #and I couldn't help but think of her like #Gil loves food that feels home cooked #but then she's also like #is this...weird? #is it too obvious? #he won't...he won't think she likes him will he? #because he's her boss #she's just being...considerate #obviously she orders it #and Gil is loaded on cough medicine in his desk chair #Thena is going to eat lunch at her desk as usual #wondering why the hell she let herself do this #but Gil is practically humming to himself as he stirs around his soup #that his beautiful receptionist ordered just for him #because she's so sweet and pretty and god he's glad he hired her

[the-elusive-soleil]

love from before still strong

For @tolkienfamilyweek Day 1 - Parent-child relationship

Maglor is shaking as he makes his way through the shadows. His hand is still in searing pain, even though the Silmaril is now at the bottom of the sea. He can see the horrified, startled face of the guard he killed, and the horrible blank emptiness on Maedhros’ face just before he pitched forward and--

He shudders, tries to put it out of his mind.

He needs to get to Elrond. There is no room for a plan or for thoughts of consequences, only for that singular goal.

There’s nothing else left, is the thing. Morgoth is defeated (no thanks to him), all his brothers are dead, the Silmarils are gone and it is probably for the best, and Elros is already gone with the Men from the Host, departed for their new Isle of Gift while Maglor was huddled in the woods trying to come to terms with still being alive.

There is, distantly, the lurking possibility in the back of his mind that that could change. He is trying very hard to not entertain that possibility. There is no good reason for him to be alive when all his brothers are dead, but the situation only becomes more senseless if he throws away the life that only he has been allowed to keep.

So here he is, slipping through the camp of the Host of the West that he fled from, sword dripping blood, only days ago.

Fortunately, he does have some idea where to go in search of Elrond, from when he was here before--not from anything he saw, but rather from where in the camp Gil-Galad was most eager to prevent him and Maedhros from passing. More than that, he knows his son, and it is no stretch of the imagination to suspect that he ought to check the healers’ tents first.

Sure enough, as he approaches the tent at the end of the row, he hears a familiar voice saying, “Is there anything else you need from me tonight, Annehtë?”

It’s Elrond, which is good, but he’s not alone, which could cause problems. Maglor draws close to the side of the tent, the better to listen for an opportunity, and to stay out of sight of anyone passing.

“No, you’ve done all you ought to and more,” says an elf-woman who is presumably Annehtë. Peering through a gap between tent panels, Maglor spots her, a blonde Vanyarin who is probably not that much younger than himself, but whose face bears less stress than any elf of Beleriand’s anymore and makes her look unwontedly young.

Elrond, in plain and serviceable healer’s robes, looking weary but otherwise no worse for wear, is moving towards the tent entrance. “Then I will bid you farewell till morning, for this day has me unusually weary.”

Before he can leave, though, Annehtë calls out, “If you will stay a moment, there is a matter I would speak with you on.”

Maglor stifles a curse, and Elrond looks no less irritated as he turns around--he’s hiding it well enough for dealing with a relative stranger, but Maglor recognizes that set of his shoulders from every time he was made to eat greens he did not want. “What is it?”

“Why don’t we sit down?” Annehtë says, not really making it a suggestion. Elrond complies, mouth pressed into a thin line. “I’ve been meaning to check in on you ever since...well, since the incident a few days ago.”

So that’s what this is about.

Elrond’s face remains a polite mask. “I don’t see how there’s anything to discuss. Unless you suspect me of aiding and abetting them, which King Gil-Galad and King Finarfin have already determined was not the case.”

“Oh, no, of course not.” Annehtë sounds shocked at the very thought. “It’s only that, well, they put you through so much before. You were only just starting to recover, and then to have them come so close again, so violently--you must have been afraid they would come after you and your brother, to take you again.”

“Why would they do that,” Elrond asks quietly and evenly, “when they were the ones who sent us here?”

“I can only guess at how such twisted minds may work,” Annehtë ventures, “but people like that don’t ever really let their victims go, you know. It’s part of the game they play, catch and release.”

“And what exactly would you know about it?” Elrond’s voice is terribly calm and cool. “Having lived all your life in Aman, where supposedly everything is perfect.”

“I have had opportunity to learn from my Sindarin colleagues since arriving here,” Annehtë retorts primly. She reaches out and takes Elrond’s hands in hers. “I understand that you must have felt such a need to be defensive of the Fëanorians when you first came here. You’d never known anything else, so of course you would want to cling to it. But they’re gone now, and it’s safe to let yourself admit that they were cruel to you. They destroyed your home and took you captive, and allowed you to know nothing but their own ways and their rules. They hurt you, and now you don’t have to pretend otherwise anymore just to get by.”

Maglor’s heart pounds in his chest. Not because he believes what the Vanyarin woman is saying in her falsely sweet voice--he knows he and Maedhros parented the twins to the best of their ability, knows that they gave them every scrap of love they had to offer, and is fairly confident that Elrond and Elros held some affection for them in return. But this is exactly what he had feared would happen when they sent their sons away: that the Sindar and Amanyar would teach them to hate the people who had raised them, and would in time so convince the twins that they had been abused that he and Maedhros would never be able to reunite with them again.

He supposes it is only surprising that it took this long for anyone to try.

That does not make it tear at thim any less when Elrond bows his head and admits, “I cannot deny that there is some truth in what you say.”

Maglor cannot stand to listen any further. He came too late and lost his chance, and now his son is slipping away from him. Intervention is impossible, so he does the only thing left to him and flees.

***

Elrond had already had more than enough of Annehtë before she tried to lure him into some kind of soul-baring exercise. The fact that she was delaying him when he could swear he felt the presence of one of his fathers just outside only compounded the irritation. He tried polite evasion, and when that seemed to be waxing ineffective, attempted to feign at least partial agreement in the hopes that she would let him alone.

Instead, his trouble only increased: no sooner had he forced out the words than he felt Maglor’s presence abruptly recede, as if in flight. No, no, this couldn’t happen, he couldn’t have the chance to finally keep hold of someone just slip through his fingers like that.

He itches to leap up and chase after Maglor right then and there, but Annehtë is still there, looking at him expectantly after his most recent statement. Right. He has to deal with this nonsense.

“It is true,” he continues, “that Maedhros and Maglor invaded and destroyed our home when we were children. But that is the only true thing you have said. They were kind to us from the beginning, although it would have been expedient to kill or abandon us. They loved us as their own sons; they only sent us away because they were sending everyone away that they could.”

Annehtë is spluttering. “But--but they were, are kinslayers! They cannot have had kindness in them, or how could they have done all that they did?”

“I do not know,” Elrond says, a little proud of how steady his voice is despite his rage. “I have wrestled with that myself. But there is no doubt in my mind that they loved us, that they gave us all the goodness they could scrape together in themselves, which was no small amount. So you will not say such things to me again--not only because they are false, but because my relationship with my fathers is none of your business.”

Then, finally, he has the opportunity to storm out in the wake of her stunned silence, and the moment he is out of the tent, he breaks into a sprint in the direction he felt Maglor’s presence receding towards.

Fortunately, his foster father does not have much of a head start, and it only takes a few minutes for Elrond to detect that flare of fëa and follow it into the woods. He quickly spots a figure curled in the shadows at the base of a large tree. A couple of paces closer, and he realizes that Maglor is weeping silently.

That does it. He flies across the short remaining distance, dropping to his knees and reaching out. “Atya? Atya! It’s all right, I’m here, I’m sorry...”

Maglor looks up at him, wide-eyed. “Elrond. Is it really you? I thought--”

“If you had stayed only a moment longer, you would have heard me go on to verbally eviscerate her,” Elrond declares. “I felt you outside the tent, I was trying anything I could to get away quickly, but it only led to me having to chase you down. What has happened to you? Where is Atar? Why did you not come to me, or to Elros or both of us, before?”

Maglor shivers. “Maedhros is dead,” he says hoarsely.

Elrond freezes. “What? He cannot be--they told us they had let you both go unharmed, they swore to me--”

“He cast himself into a chasm of fire,” Maglor continues, glorious voice flat and dull. “We took the Silmarils, and they burned us as they burn creatures of evil, and--he could not bear it. They physical wound, yes, but not--and so he ended.”

He looks up at Elrond, meeting his eyes for the first time. “He was gone, and Elros had already left for wherever his Isle of Gift will be, and there was no one else, so I thought to go to you. And then I heard--”

“--possibly the least important part of all that I had to say,” Elrond assures. He cradles Maglor’s hands in his, noting with an inward hiss of dismay the ugly burn upon the right palm. “I did not want to leave you and Atar before; I am certainly not going to let you slip away now.”

“You should,” Maglor says, making a brief abortive movement as if he would pull away but cannot bear to. “I have slain kin again, I am a thief and a murderer and kidnapper, my heels are dogged by a curse--”

“I care for none of that,” Elrond says quietly. “That is, I am not glad that you have killed again, but I don’t think you will do so any more, and I do not think there is any punishment anyone could inflict on you that would be worse than the rejection of the Silmarils and the loss of Atar.”

Maglor is silent, only bowing his head.

“I will not be staying with the Host for much longer,” Elrond forges on determinedly. “Finarfin has been trying to talk me into returning with the Amnyar, but I do not plan to. As soon as I can make that clear without burning any bridges, I will be leaving here--I want to travel, and study the different peoples of Middle-earth, and collect their knowledge. So much has been lost during the wars, but nowperhaps I can seek to preserve.”

A brief hesitation, and then, “If you will only wait here where I can find you until then, you are welcome to join me--no, more than welcome, I would earnestly desire it. We can travel together. First to Elros, I think--he will be glad to see you are alive, and will want to mourn Atar with us.”

There is a terribly long silence before Maglor lifts his head again. “I should not agree. I do not deserve it,” he says. “But I fear I am too weak now to fight against what I want so badly.”

Elrond lets out the breath he didn’t realize he was holding. “Good,” he says, a little unsteadily. He can work with that. Slowly, he drops the rest of the way to the ground and pulls Maglor into a tight, fierce embrace. “That’s good. That’ll be all right.”

#tolkienfamilyweek #silmarillion #maglor #elrond #kidnap fam #post war of wrath #maybe this belonged under the found family day? #but kidnap fam was my silm gateway drug and it's what I think of first when I see “tolkien” and “parents” #archaeologist-anthropologist elrond makes another appearance #so does my favorite genre of “outsider sees kidnap fam and assumes the worst” #soleil writes things #refracted (fanfiction)

[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.

#WyWrites #dreamling #the sandman #anastasia dreamling au #i had this already written so i figured i would just throw it out too #there's one more bit i've got parts of written but i can't make promises #we will see how it goes! #murphy has trained all his birds to steal and shares generously with them #honestly he may be a better boss to these birds than he was for the dreaming... #matthew in particular does deserve bread though. as a treat. #hope you enjoyed their meet-ugly! #(though honestly murphy is quite right not to trust hob) #(a scoundrel like that will just make you fall in love with him and then break your heart) #(but at least he'll help you reconnect with your identity and family so that's nice I guess)

[jomiddlemarch]

And each slow dusk a drawing-down of blinds

Walter had died a week ago and Gilbert didn’t want to go home. He sat at his desk and pretended to himself there was another prescription to write or that he’d told John Campbell to call round when he could, there might be something Gilbert could do for his bad hip, something he’d seen in a medical journal, the receipt for a liniment that truly was better than the salve old Mrs. Thelma Morrison stirred up of an evening, more efficacious and less likely to advertise his arrival with the rank scent of ramps crushed in tallow.

It was a lie.

There was no work yet to be done that would keep him, unless there was some queer version of mercy at play that would deliver a fisherman with a hook deep in his palm, calling for finesse and patience, the lamp lit against the dark.

It was quiet, the voices in the harbor hushed or still, and there was nothing more for him to do but admit the truth.

He simply didn’t want to go home.

It was not that the house would be empty, though that would be its own grief he knew. To go home to Ingleside and find no lamp lit against the dusk, no Anne on the sofa with a basket of mending and a book marked with a frayed scrap of ribbon, no Susan banging about in the kitchen, no Rilla dandling Jims on her knee, cheeks pink with a self-righteous spite as she complained about her Junior Reds, so much like her mother had been at the same age. The rooms all too big, the silence too loud.

And agony and yet, a surcease.

The house was full. Anne and her suffering, her grey eyes dark, her hair dressed very simply, beyond any attempt at vanity, drifted from the sitting room to their bedroom, aimless or beyond settling. Susan, cooking up whatever she thought might tempt one of them to take more than a few bites, catching herself about to mention Walter every third sentence, Miss Cornelia coming by with a basket of baked goods Gilbert would bring on his rounds to prevent wasting the food that no one in the house would eat. Rilla with her sisters, Nan and Di home from the college, all three reminding Gilbert of nothing more than a wilted nosegay, Nan and Rilla’s eyes reddened from weeping, Di’s lips bitten, chapped, her bright hair bundled back in an old-fashioned snood she’d have previously mocked in amused derision, the littlest Meredith girl sitting beside them, too thin, too pale. She’d been in love with Walter, that was clear now, and it was no longer charming or worth shaking his head over ruefully.

So many broken hearts. None he could fix.

Jem didn’t know yet, nor Shirley. He and Anne had agreed not to cable or write either of them. There was nothing they could do but grieve for their brother but that grief might be a distraction they could ill afford. The girls hadn’t argued as he’d expected and it was Rilla who’d spoken up, saying Let him be alive a little longer then while Nan crumpled up the letter she’d been writing to Jerry Meredith.

She would have been telling him about Walter. She wouldn’t risk him, nor the rare chance that he’d come across Shirley or Jem and mention Walter’s death. It was impossible to think Jerry would simply run into Jem in the trenches, except that stranger things had happened and Walter, his inquisitive little boy with his mother’s eyes, had been lost to them. His name on a telegram was all they’d get unless some officer in his battalion had the wherewithal to pack up his few remaining personal belongings and send them back to Ingleside on a ship that didn’t get sunk crossing the Atlantic.

Impossible.

Real.

His office was a place of relative respite. Walter had spent little time there, not interested in doctoring, not like Jem or Di, and so he couldn’t haunt it. There were charts to review and journals to leaf through, and no one came who wanted him to be anything else other than Doctor Blythe.

Not Dad. Not Gil dear.

His own parents, thank God, were dead. Marilla too and Mrs. Rachel. 

The clock ticked. He’d have to leave soon enough.

The face that peered in through the door after the briefest, smartest rap, was not one he’d have ever expected.

“I was sent to fetch you, but we can go the long way back,” Mary Vance said. In the failing light of evening, her queer, pale eyes gleamed like the stones he’d liked to skip across Willowmere when he’d idled on the way home from Green Gables. There was a sturdiness to her shoulders and the set of her chin that had become reassuring to a man who now lived in a house of wraiths. She was twenty-three, just a year younger than Jem, a woman grown and not a girl, though she’d no pretense to vanity in her person or tone. Practical and imperturbable, she was one of the few people he could think of he needn’t take care of.

“Mrs. Blythe sent you?” he asked. He tried not to hope Anne had worried enough to speak of it.

“Mrs. Elliott,” Mary shrugged. She knew he would be disappointed, but she wouldn’t lie. “Said you’d soon be needing a doctor yourself if you missed your supper and she doesn’t think highly of Susan’s fish pie in any case.”

“Fish pie,” Gilbert repeated, getting up from his chair and reaching for his overcoat. He ought to be made of sterner stuff, the autumn only just beginning, but he’d been cold at the marrow since he’d learned of his son’s death.

“Mackerel. Had a good catch, down at the cove. I s’pose old Susan thought as long as it was pie, you’d like it,” Mary replied. She smiled, not coaxing but wry, suddenly reminded him of his mother. Neither was much given to effusiveness or cossetting.

“Susan’s not old and it’s not kind to say it,” Gilbert said.

“But it’s not too rude to hear it,” Mary countered. “She was born old, Miss Baker, and if you told her that, she’d be proud of it.”

He laughed then, a startled, almost choked sound he hadn’t known he was capable of, but she’d been so apt and so matter-of-fact…

“You’re quite observant, you’d make a good doctor,” he said.

“Maybe. Not for the likes of me, all that education. And I’m too blunt,” she replied.

“A nurse then,” Gilbert said.

“The War won’t last forever,” she said. “When it’s over, it won’t all be an agony. Sickbeds and wounds to be stitched. There’ll be other lives to live. Work to do. Dreams, for the ones who put stock in such things.”

“Not for everyone,” he said. His boy, gone away, his voice silenced. It hurt worse than little Joy, who’d never asked just one more question, Papa, at bedtime, before Jem had convinced him to call Gil Dad or Father, who’d never made him notice the dappled light of the woods or made him laugh calming Rilla down from her rage at being called Spider.

“No,” Mary said and Gilbert braced himself for the consolation. The balance. Walter died with honor. He’d had his poem read round the world. He’d made his peace with it. 

It happened. People died young.

Ruby Gillis.

Kenneth West.

Captain Jim’s lost Margaret.

Walter Blythe.

“Mrs. Elliott will have my hide if I don’t get you back before she leaves and Marshall gets antsy left to his own devices,” Mary said. She pulled a very large, very clean white handkerchief from the pocket of her coat and handed it to him. “But we can still take the long way back. I’ll manage the driving.”

“Marigold needs a light hand,” Gilbert said. 

“I’ll manage, Doctor Blythe. You needn’t worry about me,” Mary said. She gave him another sharp look. “I’ll take the hankie back before we’re at Ingleside. Mrs. Blythe and old Susan won’t be bothered. And Rilla’s war-baby said a half-dozen new words today, so they’re in decent spirits. It’s just the pie you’ve got to choke down.”

#aogg #anne of green gables #gilbert blythe #rilla of ingleside #walter blythe #grief #father and son #mary vance #not a lot of space left for Gilbert in canon #gilbert's love of pie #gilbert/anne #the blythe family #POV gilbert blythe #angst #comfort from unexpected places #aogg fanfic #anne x gilbert #2024 is the Year of Mary Vance it would seem

[maries-gallery]

Gil begging and whimpering 🥺🖤

❦ 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 ❦

ANON BLESS YOUR WONDERFUL BRAIN! No but I love how we mutually agree on the fact Gilbert is a helpless sub.

genre: nsfw, mdni

character: Gilbert Von Obsidian

warnings: sub!Gilbert, teasing, mentions of overstimulation, marking, biting, slight nipple play, oral sex (m. receiving), needy!Gilbert

heart banner by the lovely @/saradika

For more content like this, check the masterlist

Oh yes absolutely anon, dear Gil sounds so sweet as you tease him with your kitten licks to his flushed nipples. Teeth playfully nipping at the sensitive bud as one of your hands gently fondles his balls. 

Your mouth trails fire down his chest, the flames of desire eating at him from the inside out, and he fears he might turn into ashes if this sweet torture carries on any longer. 

“Plea-Please…” He gazes down at you through dark lashes, eyes hazy with feverish lust. And what’s worse is he cannot do anything about your teasing, for he readily agreed to be at your mercy tonight. 

You can’t repress a smirk from touching your lips as you gaze up at him, wrists and ankles tied to the bedposts as his back helplessly arches off the bed and his hips desperately buck up against your hand in a wild search for pleasure. 

“Please what?” You ask in a voice that’s both the sweet sound of a dove and the seductive lure of a snake. You know what he wants, the red hue on his cheeks and glassy look in his eyes speak louder than words. But you want him to say it, want him to work for his release. 

It would be no fun otherwise, right? And you know Gilbert loves the chase, the game and the pain that comes from waiting a bit too long. 

Indeed he loves it when your teeth dig in his skin to leave a mark, thrill and euphoria coursing through his veins as delicious shivers pinprick at his spine and a whimper falls from his lips. Only encouraging you further, trailing purple blooms down his chest as you make your way to his hard length. 

“Plea-Please- Ungh-! Give me more…” He manages between pants and sharp intakes of breath, your cool breath all too close to his flushed tip for his thoughts to unfold correctly in his mind. 

“Are you sure you can take more?” You ask, a sly grin curves your lips, hand wrapping around his cock as your tongue drops a gentle kitten lick to his tip. Your smile only widening as he whines in response, “You’re already so sensitive…” 

Sensitive he is, after an hour of you playing around and teasing him without ever granting him the sweet mercy of release. Of you kissing, licking and biting every inch of him without ever tending to the one part of him that aches for you the most. 

And you want to give him what he wants, to relieve him of this torture, but he just sounds so so sweet when he begs for you, when he whimpers and whines in your ears with every touch. 

A part of you can’t help but wish to tease him further and test his limits. But nothing beats the sight of him when you finally take him in your mouth and let him slide down your throat, bobbing your head up and down as you play with his balls. 

“Ah-! Ungh-! Too-Too good-!” He cries, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. Even so his hips can’t help but buck up against you, pushing his cock further inside your mouth until you’re gagging around him. 

And you let him, because he deserves it after taking your merciless teasing. The prettiest when he explodes in your mouth in a flurry of incomprehensible moans and whines of your name. His brows furrowed and eyes clenched tight as he rides his high with needy humps and thrusts. 

taglist: @aquagirl1978 @randonauticrap @pockcock @ikemen-writer @ikesimp100 @veervers @vioisgoinginsane

#ikemen prince #ikemen prince fanfic #ikemen prince fanfiction #ikemen prince gilbert #ikemen prince smut #ikemen series #ikemen cybird #ikemen gilbert #ikemen gilbert von obsidian #gilbert von obsidian #gilbert von obsidian smut #gilbert von obsidian fanfic #gilbert von obsidian fanfiction #ikepri #ikepri fanfic #ikepri fanfiction #ikepri smut #ikepri gilbert #ikepri gilbert von obsidian