ornate locks

Tipsy cuddles (Gil x Reader)

Hey sweetheart! If you could do a Gil x Reader that would be super great! I was thinking of caring best friend Gil (who the reader happens to have a crush on and vice versa) walking in on the reader drinking in her Auradon dorm. She’s like afraid he’ll get her busted but instead he asks to join her and then night ends in tipsy cuddles and sweetly admitting feelings to each other. Thank you so much in advance!

A/N: I’m so sorry it’s taken so long to update. I’ve been sick for the last few days and I’m having trouble getting inspiration for requests. So if you sent one in I promise I’m working on them I’m just in a bit of a rut. They may not come out in order either.(Depending on what gives inspiration) I hope you understand.

When you were chosen to go to Auradon you were lucky enough to be able to have your best friend by your side. You and Gil had grown up together. You were the daughter of Chernabog, therefore, you could talk to the dead. Gil was there to help you when you first discovered your power. Ever since then you’d been in love with him.

When you first arrived at Auradon you mainly stayed with Gil and Harry. Dizzy had found friends closer to her age and stayed with them most of the time. So it was just Harry, Gil and you. You still wore all black because it was one of the few things about yourself the rules didn’t force you to change.

When living on the isle a lot of people refused to speak to you because of your father and the fact that you talked to people who weren’t there. So you used rum you stole from a shop to lighten the stress of living in those conditions. You figured that once you got to Auradon life wouldn’t be stressful anymore but it seemed like for every problem on the Isle there was one in Auradon too. You couldn’t speak to the dead in front of people; something about it freaking other students out, and you couldn’t do anything like you did before.

When it all became too much you went to your room and drank rum that you brought over from the Isle. You had Uma use magic to make it last and brought a small bottle with you. It was well hidden in your black ornate lock box you had made when you were eleven to keep your belongings safe from thieves.

So today when you tried to join the tourney team and they turned you down because you weren’t male, you lost it. You stormed up to your dorm, slammed the door, and went straight to the lockbox that sat neatly on your desk. You whispered the ancient dialogue from the curse your father would use to wake the dead and the box popped open. You reached inside and grabbed your rum and began chugging the bottle.

You may have been drinking two minutes before the door burst open and Gil barged in.

“Hey (Y/N) I was wond- Are you drinking?” he asked as he finally took notice of you sitting on your bed holding the bottle.

“Please Gil, you can’t tell anyone. This is my escape! I swear I don’t do it often! Just when the stress is too much.” you pleaded. He looked at you apprehensively, then sat next to you on the bed.

“What do you mean the stress?” he looked at you in confusion. You took another drink before answering him.

“Here in Auradon you always have to be perfect. I can’t be myself and what they want,” you explained as you offered him the bottle. He takes a swig and then responds.

“Well, have you talked to Ben? What are they making you do?” He asked and takes another drink.

“I’m not allowed to speak to the dead anymore. I have to act like I don’t hear them. They are already hurt souls and the so-called heroes around here won’t let me try to help them.”

It goes on like this for about an hour before you put the rum away and return to lay on the bed. You sit in silence as you lay your head on Gil’s chest.

“It’s stupid they’re trying to change you. You’ve always been perfect.” Gil breaks the silence, slurring his words slightly.

“Yeah, sure.” you roll your eyes.

“I mean it. You’re perfect.” he moves your face up to stare directly into your eyes.

“Never change Gil, no matter what.” you say smiling at the boy you love.

“You better not change either. I love you too much to let you do that.” he grins at you.

“You love me?” you giggle.

“I always have.” he replies.

“I love you too.” you lay back down on his chest.

The rest of the night is spent giggling at each other’s stories and falling asleep with the boy of your dreams.

Markiplier Ego Headcanons: The Author/The Host

(Ah, yes, my favorite. So here begins where my universe starts to get a little muddled. Host is a bit of a touchy subject because he has so many ways he is portrayed in the fandom, but I feel like few tap into the fact that I think he is, despite the change, still very much a powerful and rather nefarious character. Let me explain.) 


-Like other egos, Author was created by Mark and has the honor of being the second to be so as of Feb 6, 2013. Unlike the other egos, Author is the only one who was forcibly changed due to life threatening circumstances and backlash from a deal with their resident demonic entity. This means Host was born the day Author was shot, which I believe gives him the new birthday of Aug 20th, 2013. 

-Despite this, only Wilford (and subsequently Dark) know that Host’s actual birthday is technically February 6th, so the pink ego likes to surprise him every year with a single, over-the-top decorated cupcake on his writing desk with a lit candle, sometimes accompanied by the pink being himself, sometimes not. Host doesn’t hold this against Wilford (whose flighty nature makes emotions difficult for him) and the gesture still makes him warm. 

-On the opposite end, Dark likes to celebrate the latter date in a manipulative effort to remind the ego who he now belongs to. While the demon is civil enough to him, it’s still the one day Host dreads every year. (To clarify, Host does not fear Dark. This situation just becomes a chess-driven power play that takes more effort to keep up with than Host is willing to put forth. It’s much easier to let Dark have his fun.) 

-Interestingly enough, during his days as the Author, not only does the man seem to have a pocket dimension he throws his victims into where he can more or less ‘control’ them, he also had various beasts at his beck and call as well. Though the man may have changed, this fact has not, and he still very much has these things available to him as he pleases.

-In fact, thanks to Dark, he can now manifest these monsters into the physical plane. However, he tends to use these beings more as helpers around his library. They are very malleable and tend to change with his moods. When he is calm, so are they. When he is out for blood… Run. Now. Don’t look back. 

-As for the pocket dimension: There is a little brown, leather-bound book hidden atop the highest shelf near his writing desk, set with an ornate golden lock and no key in all of existence to match it. If you receive this as a mysterious package on your doorstep, do not open it. 

-There was a time in which the Host completely lost his mind. Freshly after being saved and remade by Dark, the sudden influx of sensory input, due to his powers being increased nearly a hundred fold, was like being bombarded with all the noise of a carnival crowd, but from inside his own head. It drove him screaming mad and Dark, in true cruel fashion, left him in that cabin until he could get a hold of himself. Host eventually learned to filter the noise to select that which he could enjoy, or at the very least, tolerate. It took approximately three months.

-Controversial statement? I think Host still has his eyes. As I’ve mentioned before, the idea that he does still have them is extremely interesting to me, and infinitely more gruesome. My running theory is that, while Dark didn’t actively take them, his aura corrupted and changed them during Author’s deal, turning them a hollow black (that could be mistaken for empty sockets) and, ultimately the passive tissue rejection is what’s making his eyes bleed. 

-Dipping more into what that could have done, I’ve seen the theory that when Host takes the bandages off, he becomes a seer of sorts depending on what he is looking at at the time, and I love this. The problem with this, however, is that he has great difficulty filtering out all the excessive noise of everything else (because he sees everything, not just what he’s focusing on) and it has great potential to drive him right back into insanity. It also makes his eyes bleed even more profusely the longer he uses it. Even Dark respects this and does not ask Host to do it very often.   

Noctluna Week Day #1: First Meeting

Fandom: Final Fantasy XV
Title: First Meeting
NOCTLUNA WEEK DAY #1
Characters: Noctis Lucis Caelum, Lunafreya Nox Fleuret
Rating: G
Genre: Childhood Friendship
Summary: The wounded Prince Noctis is in no hurry to make friends, but finding himself among an equal for the first time eases his mind.


Noctis sat on the edge of the bed as his father dressed him, much to his chagrin. He was too old to need someone to dress him, but everything hurt and he didn’t know how to manage with the limited movement in his legs. His lips were pressed tight against his complaints, and he didn’t even whimper whenever the pain spiked from how he was jostled around. He just wanted to stay in bed, he didn’t want to be introduced to the Oracle’s daughter. He was tired, he was in pain, and all he could think of was the smell of burning gasoline and how he had been covered in blood, how he grew cold even with a fire blazing not too far away.

His father smiled kindly to him, settling hands on his shoulders and speaking softly so no one else would hear. “I know you hurt, Noctis. But that’s why you need to meet this girl all the more. Young Lunafreya is excited to meet you, and I think you underestimate what she has to offer for your pained heart and body.”

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