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broken-mirrors-binding-magic · 7 months

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FicTober: Day 7

Prompt #7: "Do you recognise this?" Original Fiction: Broken Mirrors Series Rating: G Warnings: N/A

Characters: Alice Sweeney, Roderich Klein, Gilbert Lehmann, Baltasar Klein Ships: N/A

Alice smiled brightly as she and Gilbert buzzed with excitement, they had been planning this surprise for months.

“Do you think he’ll like it? He’s been really upset since the divorce…”

“Alice, he’ll love it. I promise. I think it's just what he needs.”

Alice straightened her back, leaning up from polishing the ivory keys, “I hope so. He’s been avoiding everyone since he kicked her out.”

Gilbert smiled, pulling the black cloth over the piano to hide it, “He’s probably embarrassed about the situation. He loved her and trusted her, he didn’t even believe me when I told him about her. I’m sure he just doesn’t want an I told you so.”

The two jumped slightly as Baltasar excitedly dragged Roderich into the room, “Come on Dad!”

“Balt, relax. Why are we rushing? It’s-”

Roderich stilled when he noticed the two standing in his living room, “Alice? Gilbert? What are you two doing in my house?”

Alice smiled sheepishly, “Well, we’re here to surprise you.”

“We were worried, Rod. You’ve been avoiding everyone and even your kid was getting worried about you. He helped us plan a little surprise for you to force you to come to the annual get-together.”

Roderich huffed in annoyance, “And if I refuse?”

Alice smiled, quickly pulling the cloth off of the piano, “Then this will go to waste!”

Gilbert smirked as he watched Roderich’s wide eyes take in the piano beside them, “Do you recognise this, Roddy?”

Roderich hesitantly approached the large piano, “I…I can’t believe it. Where did you even get this?”

Alice gently placed her hand on his arm, “I saved it from the castle. Gilbert’s been working on fixing it up for years, and we finally got it working right again.”

Gilbert smiled proudly as he pointed to the keys, “The keys are from the old one, everything else I had to hand carve to match the burnt one.”

“You remade it?”

Gilbert nodded, “Yeah, you said it was your father’s. I couldn’t leave it to rot with the rest of the castle.”

Alice stifled her giggle as Roderich suddenly hugged Gilbert tightly.

“Dad, could you teach me how to play it?”

The three turned to the small boy who eyed the piano with awe, they had forgotten about the boy while they were caught up in the moment.

Roderich quickly wiped his eyes from the brimming tears, “Of course, I’ll show you just like my father taught me.”

Alice and Gilbert couldn’t hide their smiles as Roderich quickly sat beside his son and began to explain the different piano keys. He would recover from leaving his wife and so would his son.

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sebeth · 3 months

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All-Star Squadron #13

Warning, Spoilers Ahead…

“One Day, During The War” by Roy Thomas, Adrian Gonzales, and Mike DeCarlo.

Hawman calls the first official meeting of the All-Star Squadron to order. Present for the meeting are the Shining Knight, Johnny Quick, Liberty Belle, Hawkgirl, Robotman, Commander Steel, Firebrand, and the Atom.

Hawkman’s first order of business is to elect a chairman for the All-Star Squadron. Carter has declined the position as he is still and active member of the Army Air Force.

Hawkman notes Batman, Superman, the Spectre, and the Flash have not enlisted in the armed services. Wonder Woman is noted to not be a member of the Justice Society but she has accepted membership in the All-Star Squadron.

The Shining Knight reports that his fellow members in the Seven Soldiers of Victory (Green Arrow, Speedy, Vigilante, Crimson Avenger, Star-Spangled Kid, Stripesy) have not enlisted in the arms services but stand ready to aid the All-Star Squadron as individuals or as a group.

Robotman mentions other possible candidates for membership: Mr. Terrific, Wildcat, Air Wave, TNT & Dyna-Mite, Doll Man, Mr. America, Manhunter, and Plastic Man. Plas has previously assisted the All-Stars on two occasions.

Commander Steel is amazed by the number of mystery men that have debuted since he was a prisoner of war.

The group votes – by ballot – to elect a new leader. The winner is…Liberty Belle! Johnny notes Libby is the “most widely-read lady columnist this side of Eleanor Roosevelt.”

Sir Justin announces he is taking a leave of absence as he will be returning to Brittain to serve as Winston Churchill’s personal protector. No, don’t take Justin away, he’s my favorite part of the series!

Firebrand, Johnny Quick, Liberty Belle, Hawkman, and Hawkgirl travel to California to visit Danette’s brother, Rod, who was wounded in the attack on Pearl Harbor. Rod was the original Firebrand.

Danette is having a difficult time letting go of her hatred for all Japanese due to the attack on her brother. Libby reminds Danette she lost her father to a Nazi bomb but she doesn’t hate all Germans. Libby couldn’t do that and remain sane.

Roy mentions this in several issues – the importance of not hating an entire country/ethnicity/group of people – due to the actions of a few.

The Hawks ditch the rest of the group as they travel over San Francisco. They want some alone time to make out.

Danette’s trauma from the first arc of the stories seems to be catching up to her. She’s certain nobody can protect her “just like nobody could protect my brother”.

Libby reminds Danette their true enemies are the fascist dictators, not the people under their yoke.

Back in New York, Commander Steel checks up on his old mentor, Dr. Gilbert Giles. Steel meets with his former fiancé, Gloria Giles, who informs him her father is dead. Steel almost reveals his identity to Gloria but doesn’t when he realizes she’s married to a serviceman named Brad Farley. Steel informs Gloria that Hank Heywood died on a mission in Europe.

Robotman returns to Queens, New York to check on a project Chuck Grayson, his assistant, is working on. Bob discovers Chuck and Joan Carter, Bob’s former girlfriend, unconscious. Bob destroys the malfunctioning machine that knocked the duo unconscious.

Joan is unaware of Bob’s survival in his robot shell. Bob wants it to stay that way until he is more comfortable in his new self. Bob uses a rubberized face and hands to appear as “Paul Dennis”.

“Paul” and Chuck are informed by a henchman for Sam Glottery that the lawyer is going to have Robotman declared a public menace.

The Shining Knight and Churchill return to England. Justin battles the planes that are blitzing England.

Danette, Johnny, and Libby enter the hospital where Rod is a patient. Danette reunites with Rod. Rod mentions Slugger Dunn has already returned to active duty. Danette confesses her hatred to Rod only to be scolded by her brother. He tells her she is “too smart for that kind of racist talk”. Rod reveals it was an American soldier of Japanese descent that saved Slugger and Rod’s lives – at the cost of his own.

Danette comes to her senses and begs forgiveness for being “fool-blinded by hate”. Rod tells Danette to be a force for good.

Firebrand, Johnny Quick, and Liberty Belle entertain the wounded soldiers at the hospital.

Back in Washington, Al (the Atom) meets up with Mary James, his girlfriend. Mary isn’t thrilled with Al’s enlistment and begs him to come home safe.

A simple “day in the life” issue that wrapped up the loose ends on Commander Steel’s plot and set up Robotman’s future plot. The past few arcs (Feathered Serpent, Baron Blitzkrieg, Hastor/Flying Eye) were weak, but this was a return to form. Great character moments for most of the All-Stars. Loved it.

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isit-allover · 1 year

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The Intrepid Heroes And How They’d Do On Taskmaster

Brennan

Big Ed Gamble energy. This man comes in with a lust for victory and nothing to lose

The de facto leader in team tasks, barring any mutiny from his team members

Often wins tasks because of an exploited loophole

Might win the series, except if Greg and Alex decide to torture him (very likely)

Lou

Will cause problems on purpose to get things done

Creates the iconic melodrama of the series (a la Oh No My Baby and Took)

Loses at least one task because his is so committed to a bit

If he and Brennan are a team, they are unstoppable. If he and Brennan are with one other person, he may stray and create some James Acaster/Phil Wang/Rod Gilbert-esque shenanigans

Ally

Best task outfit 100%

Makes Alex do something that absolutely ruins his day at least once

Always commits, rarely succeeds (would definitely try to hide aubergines by eating them)

Finds loopholes where there are none

Siobhan

The competent woman that gets ignored in team tasks

You know that compilation of Mel Giedroyc every time she says ‘brilliant’? That but ‘fuck’

If you give her a puzzle task she is out of the room in 5 minutes

She an Emily have the best studio fits (they would def both wear tuxes to the finale like Rose Matafeo and it would similarly destroy me)

Murph

The pathetic man of the season (affectionate)

Put together for the first few tasks and then something in him snaps

Alex Horne is the enemy and is not to be trusted

Injures himself at least once

Zac

Quietly brilliant

Casually finds the hidden easy solutions like it’s nothing

Will occasionally derail his own success just for fun and/or to annoy Brennan if they’re on the same team

Done with Alex’s bullshit at all times

Emily

Just there to have fun

The best person to have on your team in team tasks

Given a secret task to break her down a la Mel Giedroyc, it does not work

Finds solutions to the tasks that nobody considered, the bane of Alex’s existence

#dimension 20 #taskmaster #brennan lee mulligan #emily axford #brian murphy #ally beardsley #lou wilson #zac oyama #siobhan thompson #this post brought to you by falling back into my taskmaster hyperfixation #also that tiktok someone made where they said they wanted to see brennan on taskmaster #everyone go watch taskmaster it is the best piece of television ever created

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violettduchess · 8 months

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"doubt thou the stars are fire // doubt that the sun doth move // doubt truth to be a liar // but never doubt that i love (you)" x gilbert (or whoever you feel fits this best)

-revassierum

A/N: Gilbert won the poll so the first fic belongs to him.

This is the fic that comes before this one but I think that you can read this on its own.

Gilbert x Reader

WC: 2.3k

Full quote:

"Doubt thou the stars are fire; doubt that the sun doth move; doubt truth to be a liar; but never doubt I love you. I love thee, I love but thee with a love that shall not die. Till the sun grows cold and the stars grow old. -William Shakespeare, Hamlet, Act II, Scene II

His knuckles, hidden under his black leather gloves, are white as he grasps the cold gray parapet. His eye, red as a hellish comet streaking across a midnight sky, surveys the shapes he can make out below, the ones revealed by the twin luminance of moonlight and torches: the shadowy lines of the encampment tents in front of the castle; light winking weakly off the metal of soldiers’ helmets as they move around. Beyond them the ribbon of pale gray road that disappears into the imposing darkness of the treeline, so dark it drinks in all the light without leaving a single drop.

The road holds his gaze, has every ounce of his attention so thoroughly that he doesn’t react to the man who joins him, the one who is silent as he stares at Gilbert, his expression as stoic as the stone Gilbert’s gloves are so tightly clenching.

After a moment, he speaks.

“Yes, Doctor?”

Walter reaches up, adjusting his glasses.

“The night is chilled. You should be abed, resting for what is to come.”

Few people in the world can speak to Gilbert in such a way, telling him what he should be doing. But Walter is one of them. The man who carries the weight of Obsidian on his broad shoulders doesn’t answer his physician but the tightness of his jawline is enough of a sign that he has heard.

Walter finally turns his head, his pale gaze following Gilbert’s line of sight until he too is looking at the place where the road vanishes into black forest. He remembers a whispered conversation with Roderich, hushed and hurried, quick as a sparrow nervously jumping from branch to branch lest it be snapped up by the jaws of some far-quicker predator.

“If I may speak freely….”

Gilbert waves a hand. “As if that would be something new.” Though there is a faint glimmer of humor in his voice, his gaze is as intensely focused as ever and he does not glance at the doctor.

“You sent her away. Quite….forcefully, if I recall the story.”

That gets his attention. He turns away, a movement as quick and sleek as silvery clouds sliding across the face of the moon.

Walter knows him well enough to read his face. He sees the miniscule flash of surprise in the depths of his crimson eye, the slight drawing of his shoulders. Anyone else would think Gilbert had no reaction. The doctor knows that this particular subject has just set off a cascade of emotion within the Obsidian leader.

“I won’t ask how you know this or else I would be forced to deprive Obsidian of its best healer.” Annoyance lines his words as he turns back to the parapet, as if he cannot help himself, as if staring at the line between the encampment and the forest is necessary. Agitation dances across the tight line of his shoulders, the straight rod of his back.

Walter clears his throat, stifling the urge to place a hand on Gilbert’s arm.

“Rhodolite may be the enemy. But it is where she is safest.”

His statement is met with silence, as cool as the night breeze winding its way across the battlement, Gilbert’s black cloak dancing in its wake.

“I’ve taken my tonic. I believe your presence is no longer required tonight, Doctor.”

The dismissal doesn’t bother Walter. He knows Gilbert has heard him. His dark head bows in deference.

“Gute Nacht,” he murmurs, casting one last look at the man whose life he is charged with keeping safe. He may be responsible for Gilbert's body but there is no doubt that his heart is within someone else’s hands.

Gilbert waits until the doctor’s footsteps fade into the other sounds of nighttime, the ebbing murmur of his soldiers as they retire for the evening, the faint clanking of armor as guards patrol the grounds, the lone, mournful hoot of an owl. Only when he is certain he is alone does he allow his head to drop, eye closing for a brief moment.

There is little that escapes Gilbert von Obsidian. He is three steps ahead of everyone, always, the human mind a complicated puzzle he is adept at solving. And yet, when he sent you away from his tent, you with your starlight tears and petal-soft mouth, when he watched you flee, eyes as wild as a fearful rabbit, when he told you to return home to your roses and your pale-haired king…..he was not entirely certain you would listen.

The doctor is right. It was the more rational choice. But it was not the one that his heart wanted, the one it is still screaming for. You belong with him. You should be his.

He has tasted you, knows the sound of his name when it escapes your lips on a wavering sigh of want. His teeth have sunk into the soft skin of your shoulder, his tongue has traced the line of your neck. He has felt the waves of desire as they ripple through your veins, all because of him. All for him. It is all he has wanted for so very long, all that has consumed him….

And yet he had smiled, sharp as the edge of his sword, and told you to run. Sent you away even as your scent of lavender and roses lingered in his tent, settled across his black mantle like a ghost unable to find peace.

What is he even looking for, out here in the night, as the tents darken one by one like candles blown out by the wind. You are halfway back to your kingdom of roses. You chose home and you chose Chevalier.

So why can’t he tear his gaze away from the darkening road?

It becomes a phantom as the torchlight dims and the moon excuses herself, stepping behind a barricade of clouds. And still he lingers, even as the night air turns cold and unwelcoming, and he feels his muscles contracting in response, struggling to support the cry of his heart to stay….just in case.

Teeth clenched like a beast on the edge of growling, he is about to turn and head inside when he sees it. A shadowy shape bursting out of the black treeline, a spectral horse and rider charging down the ribbon of road.

And he knows.

The castle walls blur as he flies down the spiral stone steps, down down down and then out, past the startled guards. He is a tiger honed in on its prey, eyes flashing with resolve and hunger.

You’re already off your horse, speaking in that voice to a soldier with his sword raised in your direction. You are, after all, a stranger who has just flown into their camp like a banshee.

When he arrives at the scene, the soldier immediately lowers his sword and drops to one knee. Gilbert does not hear any of his stammered words. Instead he reaches out, his gloved fingers closing around your wrist as he pulls you towards the nearest tent.

“Raus,” he orders the soldier who was just getting ready to bed down for the night. The word is iron, undeniable and final. The man gathers his things quicker than he ever has before in his life and exits, the tent flap falling closed behind him with a soft whooshing sound.

It is a simple foot soldier’s dwelling with an oil lantern still burning next to the untouched bedroll. The wan light throws your shadows across the thick canvas walls, moving like images inside a zoetrope.

Gilbert is breathing hard, his chest rising and falling as he struggles to catch his breath, but there is nothing unsteady about the way his eye, the color of wine in moonlight, is fixed on you. With trembling hands you push back the hood of your cloak, white with small red roses embroidered along the hem like drops of blood. Your cheeks are flushed with the urgency and speed of your ride. Your skirts and boots are splattered with mud.

“I know….you warned me to go and I started to.” Your voice is airy but uncontrolled, a tornado forcing its way past your throat. “I got just past the border and stopped at a tavern to rest the horse. Rhodolite soldiers were there, several tankards in, and they were bragging…they’re coming, Gilbert. At first dawn they’ll be here.”

You step forward, your hands reaching to gather the soft folds of his black cloak, fingers curling into it as it could steady you, a bulwark against the storm of information you need to tell him.

“They have weapons. They intercepted an Obsidian transport and they have guns.” He hasn’t said a word yet, hasn’t had a chance in the face of all the words you’re hurling at him but now you pause, searching his face. “Gilbert, did you hear me? They have-”

He finally moves, twisting his leather glove off his hand and tossing it aside fecklessly. The next thing you feel is the cool touch of his palm against your cheek, his fingers curling to cup your face.

“You’re here.”

The words are husky, maybe because he is still catching his breath. Maybe because he can’t believe it. Or maybe because he can and he’s basking in the confirmation of his prediction.

“I…..” You need him to understand the urgency of what you are telling him and yet his hand feels so good. The last time he touched you that hand was at your throat. Now it is cradling your face with a gentleness just as dangerous.

Your words drop to a whisper. “Gilbert…..they’re coming and they–” And then, as he raises his other hand to his lips, biting into the tip of his glove and removing it with his teeth, the truth hits you like an avalanche careening down a mountain. The encampment here. Gilbert occupying a castle so close to the border and not heading home.

“You already knew.”

And now he’s holding your face in both hands, the coolness of his skin paradoxically sending waves of something unbearably hot through your limbs.

“But you didn’t. And you came back, risking everything to tell me.”

The world begins and ends in the red of his eye, the fall of dark hair across his pale forehead. Something inside you breaks, shatters like stained glass struck by stone. You reach up, curling your hands around his wrists.

“I….I couldn’t live with the thought that something could happen to you….I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t try to stop it, even if it meant-”

The rest is stopped by the savage press of his mouth against yours. He will not even allow you to finish that sentence. The grip of his hands tightens as he hungrily swallows any other words you wanted to say, as he drinks deeply from the gasps of your lungs and the moans of your throat. Over and over he devours you while still holding you between his hands, your own having gone slack at the very first kiss.

He kisses you until your lips ache from the crush of his mouth, the sting of his teeth. Your tongue is full of him, the rich, cool taste of him. It is the sweetest nectar, ambrosia as heady as the starlit sky. It leaves you spinning with satisfaction, dizzy with content. And yet, it leaves you parched, always seeking more and more and more of him as the hot winds of desire blow through your veins.

Gilbert is the one to break away, to gasp a lungful of air, feeling the absence of your lips as keenly as any ache. His eye burns like a singular star, swallowing up the darkness.

“Retreat to the castle.” His hands roam your body as he speaks the order, as if he can’t help but touch you even as he demands you to leave him. “The cellar is safeguarded. My men will go with you-”

You shake your head vehemently, capturing his hands in yours, holding them hostage in your own tight grip.

"I have turned against my country for you. I was ready to face whatever hell awaited me here if it meant keeping you safe.” Your voice is low, trembling as it skirts the bedrock of emotion in your chest. “I'm damn well not leaving your side now."

He recognizes a mind as sharp as his own, a will as iron. As much as he has craved your gentle heart, your kind spirit, those soft, beautiful parts of you, he is equally as drawn to the steel in your nerves, the forge of determination in your bright eyes.

He could have you sent away, dragged by his soldiers down to the underbelly of the castle where you would be safe. But as he reaches up, cradling the nape of your neck with one hand, he realizes you are right. After all, who could protect you as well as him? Who but him would trample the world for you? Would set the night ablaze before allowing anyone or anything to harm you?

One arm winds its way around your waist and pulls you close. He leans down, his lips brushing the sensitive shell of your ear. His voice is hushed, but rough, gravelly with emotion.

"When all this is over, my brave Häschen, I will reward you.” He catches your earlobe between his white teeth, his heart fluttering at your gasp. “Over and over until your voice is hoarse with the sound of my name."

There is no time to catch the breath his words have robbed you off. The distant warning of cannon fire fills the night and the encampment is coming awake, following the carefully laid-out plan in preparation for what is coming.

“Come.” And with your fingers linked with his, you step out of the tent together, into the foreboding night.

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#ikemen series #ikemen prince #ikepri #ikepri gilbert #gilbert von obsidian #ikemen gilbert #ikemen fanfic #ikemen fanfiction #otome fanfiction #violettwrites

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