birthday destiny

Episodiolus Gladiolus
  • Gilgamesh: You shall never succeed in these trials if you plan to rely on brute strength alone. Which you clearly seem to be doing, so... Yeah. I don't think this is gonna end well for ya.
  • Gladio:
  • WITHIN THE NEXT HOUR
  • Gladio: *Suplexes actual zombies*
  • Gladio: *Uproots giant stone columns and uses them to crush evil armadillos*
  • Gladio: *Builds up a RAGE METER as he KILLS THINGS INDISCRIMINATELY*
  • Gilgamesh: Holy shit
Classic

Ok, so @magicaldestiny was SO KIND to let me off the hook for her birthday fic while I was drowning in Spacedogs stories. So I would like to thank her for that and say….LOOK! I remembered to do the thing, months later. Please forgive the lateness - as well as how incredibly sappy this is m’dear. 

         Will pulled the blanket around him, trying to control the shivers that wracked his body.  This was worse than the cliff - worse than the sound of his skull rattling as Jack screamed for Hannibal to stop the saw. Will let himself loll to the side, head thumping weakly on the arm of the sofa. Through half-closed eyes, Will saw calf-leather loafers shuffling toward him.

         “If you were planning to kill me again, now would be a great time,” Will moaned, letting his eyes fall closed. He heard the clink of a tray as it settled on the coffee table before he felt himself being pulled upright and settled against a warm, solid mass.

         “I wouldn’t dream of killing you,” Hannibal murmured in Will’s ear, offering him a steaming cup of tea. “Unless you wipe your nose on my hand loomed throw again.”

         “I apologized for that.” The tea smelled of ginger, Will gulped it down.

         “Hmmm, and yet the stain remains.”

         “You know you actually gutted me, right? Like, my actual innards spilled out.”

         “I regret that more than you’ll ever know.” Hannibal sighed, pressing a kiss behind Will’s ear. “I’m sure the floors had to be refinished. They were original to the house.”

         “If I wasn’t three seconds from dying, I’d smack you.”

         “Don’t be ridiculous, Will. You’ve got hours before dehydration would even seriously threaten you.” Hannibal held up a bowl of soup and made Will swallow a few spoonfuls. “There, I’ve just bought you another half hour, at least.”

         “Did Hopkins ever talk to you about bedside manor?”

         Hannibal smirked. “I’ve never had any complaints.”

         Will sneered. “Sex puns? When I’m too weak to defend myself? Have you no mercy?”

         “None.”  Hannibal fed Will a few more swallows of soup before setting the bowl on the table. “Now, how shall we wait out this illness? I could read to you? Perhaps play something?”

         Will opened his mouth, then snapped it shut. Hannibal frowned.

         “What?”

         “You won’t want to do it.”

         “I would have thought after the incident in Pallentine Chapel, you’d know there is very little I’m not willing to do to and for you.”

         “For the last time, if I had known that goddamn nun was watching us, I wouldn’t have-”

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2

I’m the one in the middle

weird headcanon of the day

Warlocks hold an annual tournament style competition every Pi-Day, with the competition being who can say the most digits of pi.

The game starts with the two contestants arm wrestling, and they have to say the digits at rapidfire speed unless either one of them gets a digit wrong, or can’t produce the number in five seconds.

At first it’s easy and incredibly quick:

“3!”

“1!”

“4!”

“1!”

“5!”

“9!”

but then it slows down. Most warlocks can say a thousand at most. 

Surprisingly, the grandmaster of the tournament is none other than Amanda Holliday, who has won seven years in a row.

Waltz

If you want the full experience listen to this while reading.

Iron Banner was over and Arra found herself at Felwinter’s Peak, definitely not dressed for the weather. But it had been so long since she was asked to dance that the second Saladin suggested it she had instantly said yes. 

However something was wrong. Saladin was in front of her with a hand behind his head with an almost embarrassed look on his face.

“I believe,” he began, “that there was a miscommunication.”

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