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banemmanan · 6 months

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U.N.C.L.E. statistics graphs

Part 2 of 3

[part 1] * [part 3]

All Man from U.N.C.L.E. data was compiled by @commander-kiranerys :

Series 1 * Series 2 * Series 3 * Series 4

Girl from U.N.C.L.E. data was compiled by myself and my sister:

* GFU *

Original graphs created by commander-kiranerys:

* :1: * :2: * :3: * :4: *

(more info and analysis under the cut)

Disclaimer:

As you can see from the data attributes, the mfu and gfu stats have been compiled by two different people. As such, results should be taken with a grain of salt as our views on what exactly constitutes 'torture' or a 'failed escape' may vary.

A word on graphs:

I felt that having compiling the separate info in one place in the form of bar charts was ideal for visual comparisons of the data, rather than jumping between posts. However, I cannot recommend enough commander-kiranerys's original graphs enough due to them being in the form of line graphs, thus giving a good view of change over time for the individual results of her statistics. This was not possible here due to gfu being part of a separate show.

Analysis:

Tied up: so if you're into bondage then MFU Season 3 is for you. Specifically Illya... (I see you Season 3 writers, I see you). As you can see from these graphs and the next two, the GFU villains weren't really very kinky. A shame tbh (who said that?).

Chained or handcuffed: I had combined these two separate categories into just the one in my data set and so I added together commander-kiranerys' results to create some compatible data. The MFU stats here remain very consistent before that good ol' Season 4 drop, they didn't get that same significant increase that being tied up saw.

Tortured: sad to see that Napoleon and Illya have never been tortured together. As the old saying goes, partners who get tortured together, stay together. Very tragic.

Drugged: a lot of the cynics out there will say that it's no surprise at all that GFU was on the most drugs of the series. But to that I say, just look at that MFU Season 3 stat! The least by a long shot!

Knocked out: the most impressive thing here is that if you removed all of April's stats, GFU would still be leading on getting knocked out. I'm more than a little worried about Mark; has anyone checked him for post-concussion syndrome?

Shot: my findings? Bullet wound Mark is an outlier and should not be counted. He is one gunshot away in his single series from equalling Illya in the entire run of MFU. The consistency of those MFU results is very satisfying to me, and then Mark has to ruin it! Someone get this man a touriquet or smth idc. Also April is bullet proof, aparently.

Wet: although I was too British and prude to tally-up instances of partial nudity (idk why I found that too embarrassing ok), I am not imune to fanservice and was more than happy to count instances of getting wet. Now, if you like your agents soaking wet, then aparently GFU is the show for you (yes this is a propaganda post). Though on average it ties with MFU Season 4; in terms of raw numbers it cannot be beat. Interestingly though, Season 1 Napoleon is tied with Mark for soggiest individual character.

I will freely admit that the analysis here is strongly skewed towards comparing the GFU results with the MFU results. Mainly due to commander-kiranerys having already created a set of graphs and gone over the MFU data there. I didn't want these posts to replace those in any way and instead to add to them. Please check out those posts (linked above) for a more MFU-oriented approach!

I hope you found this data useful or at least interesting! I would love to have discussions about these!

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pippinoftheshire · 1 month

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Digging through the "old fics" vault

I was working on another UNCLE fic and then found THIS old MODERN AU in my notes lol: Pretty sure I'm never going to finish it, so I thought I might as well just share it on here :)

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Gaby isn’t sure who’s who out of her supposed ‘teammates’, only that there is a sway to the walk of the dark-haired man that speaks of things best done in the dark. Behind curtains. Preferably silk ones. Not to mention that, for a man as well-built as him, he has a damn decent waist.

The other, the dour-faced blonde, looks like he would rather be walking over broken glass with bare feet than sitting here in their company on a chair much to small for him.

“Am I supposed to guess who you are?” Gaby knows there is a bite of impatience in her tone, but she is agitated enough as it is. “Or would you kindly tell me what the fuck is going on?”

The man with the black curls flashes a smile, all slanted with his deep blue eyes gleaming, and Gaby feels something knot in her chest. She doesn’t feel attracted to him... not exactly, but he is admitibly gorgeous.

Stop being STUPID! she hisses to herself.

“You know as much as we do, sweetheart.”

His voice is laced with a drawl. American. But Gaby can see through his false bravado straight to the uncertainty and worry lurking like hidden leprocy beneath. He’s a man who’s grown used to having a master. She’s not sure how that’s a good thing. She’s narrowing her eyes before she knows it, trying to figure out what he does.

He is undeniably smart too, it seems, because suddenly his eyes flash and he snaps, “Oh, just ask. Everyone does.”

Gaby is a little taken aback. “Ask what?”

His smile turns into a cynical line of self-hatred. “Whether I fuck people for a living. Because the answer is yes. Ma ran off and left me in a shitty position, and it was this or a painful death to repay her debt. So keep your fucking judgement to yourself.”

Gaby stares at him, trying to process her thoughts. And, strangely, the first thing she says when she finally opens her mouth is, “I think we’ll get along.”

He looks startled. “Why is that?”

“Because I only trust people who have the courage to be honest with me.”

He darts a glance at her eyes, sees she’s not lying, and then a different smile curls his lips. And Gaby knows this is his true one. It’s crooked and self-depreciating and full of a childish mischief. He holds out a hand,

“Napoleon Solo.”

“Gaby Teller,” she says, shaking it with a smile of her own.

“And our silent Russian friend here...” Solo turns to flick an eyebrow up at the blonde man. “... must be Illya Kuryakin.”

“Da,” grits Illya. He looks unamused. “And I have better things to do with my time.”

His accent is heavy, thick. But the words roll off his tongue with a richness that Gaby feels in her bones. And he’s not bad looking either...

Fuck.

“Meaning you keep better company?” teases Solo. Gaby is trying to guess his age now, unsure if he’s older than her.

Illya glares, leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed.

Which is when Waverly comes in through the doors, into the office. He still looks like the same, kind british gentleman who had found her in the bar. Albeit with a tired set to his face. But he manages a smile when he sees the three of them.

“Welcome to the United Network Command for Law and Enforcement.”

“U.N.C.L.E.?” says Solo, looking a little amused. “You named your organisation U.N.C.L.E.?”

Waverly nods. “Yes, Mr Solo. We did. Now on a side note, I believe you said you were working off a debt?”

Solo’s expression shutters like a steel grate. “Yes, sir.” His drawl flattens to a blank statement of fact. Gaby is struck by the sudden urge to hold his hand.

“Well, it might interest you to hear that your debt has been payed in full.” The Englishman settles back in his chair, tapping fingers on his desk. “You’re free.”

Solo looks like he has been hit by a train. He blinks, slowly, swallowing. And says nothing.

Waverly leans forwards, a flash of sadness in his eyes. “Now I understand if you would rather decline my proposal and leave the country. No one will blame you.”

Solo looks like he considers it. He really does. Then he gives a firm shake of his head. “I’ll stay, sir. Might as well do something useful now that I’m my own man.”

Waverly’s smile is grateful and warm. “As you wish.”

#tmfu #the man from uncle #fan fiction #old drabbles

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roseofcards90 · 9 months

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Okay TWO THINGS my mind is still rotating around after finishing the Fate route:

- Kiritsugu’s connection with the Einzbern family and especially Illya: while I do understand that Kiritsugu destroyed the holy grail in the last war which would cause the family to hate him (since well they’re one of the 3 major families connected to the start of this whole thing and are the ones providing the vessel for the grail), there’s probably a lot more to this than just what happened at the end of the 4th war. This line in particular with Illya still makes me question if she had more of a connection with Kiritsugu because imo it implies more of a personal grudge against Shirou as opposed to just being “oh yeah I know your dad destroyed the grail my family was involved with trying to get in the last war” especially with the way Illya personally targets Shirou in the beginning (not only with her calling him “onii-chan” but also the “I have to hurt you more and teach you how wonderful your life was up until now” - does she mean to imply that her life was not great for some reason and thus is jealous of Shirou? But why be jealous of him then specifically?) that it leads me to believe there’s a lot more to Kiritsugu than what was revealed in the Fate route that influenced Illya having a deeper hatred for Shirou that we see in the beginning of Fate.

- Rin’s connection with Sakura: this is purely inspired by Rin’s actions with Sakura that I’ve noticed thus far -> 1: her looking out for her in the prologue is a big one because Fate introduces Rin as someone wearing a mask: at school, she’s cold and aloof and mysterious but as we see her thoughts throughout the prologue, she’s concerned for Sakura’s well being. She visits her during archery practice, helps her pick up the papers she dropped, and is alarmed when she sees her with some dude she’s obviously uncomfortable with and doesn’t know. And especially this one, THE MOST INTERESTING THING TO ME is that when Rin stumbles upon Shirou about to die, her thoughts aren’t “I’ll revive this guy because I like him” but rather “I’ll revive this guy because Sakura would be sad if he died, because he is the object of Sakura’s affections” like hmmm 🤔🤔🤔 why do you care so much about Sakura’s feelings in the first place, Rin?

2: Rin also acts different with Sakura, almost as if she was associated with her before compared to seeing her befriend Shirou and Saber for the first time, Rin refers to her by her first name as opposed to when she first met Shirou where she initially called him “Emiya-kun”, and what really strikes me as interesting (I don’t have the screenshot here) is that Rin was willing to eat the breakfast Sakura made, even though she’s isn’t a person who typically eats breakfast. I don’t think it was just Rin being courteous either, I think it was because Sakura made it that she was willing to eat it. This leads me to believe that Rin and Sakura knew each other in the past, maybe old/childhood friends I’m guessing? Or someone Rin was associated with and close with before, so much so that she breaks her mask for her and looks out for her well being and safety. Idk it just really stands out to me because normally Rin would be all “it’s not like I care or anything!” and then she would deny she cares, but she’s much more upfront about how much she cares when it comes to Sakura that she doesn’t even try to hide it from Shirou and everyone else presumably. So I at least believe that Rin was close to Sakura before and that is why she acts differently with her compared to the others.

#me with my big brain y’all <- is an idiot with no brain cell LMAO #Rose reads Fate Stay Night

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hasarjunadoneanythingwrong · 10 months

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Heyyy, if Arjune were to be summoned in the fourth or fifth holy grail war, who do you think would be the best master in each part? and the worst? I can't see him tolerating Ryuunousuke and I think he would specially hate Shinki, what with his experience of the Kauravas insulting his wife Draupadi, so I think he'd get along horribly wrong with those two but I don't know if Kiritsugu would also be a somewhat bad match for him

Oddly enough I he might actually mesh rather well with kiritsugu if he went full into his ‘I’m a tool that exists to fight for justice please don’t look any deeper than that.’ He’s very archer-emiya coded and as long as kiritsugu continued to keep the casualties minimal (ie, evacuating the hotel building before blowing it up) I think he would at least be able to manage. Not thrive, per say, but I think arjuna is able to at least justify to himself the concept of ‘sacrificing a few to save the many’ (just look at what happened to his own children and family in his origin story) and he’s able to maintain an impersonal distance that someone like kiritsugu would likewise also probably do well with. (Also tbh kiritsugu would probably prefer a servant that’s a long range fighter over a close combat unit)

I do think it would still weigh on him though-ultimately like saber it’s a situation where he can still do well as a warrior but he wouldn’t be happy bc of it’s brutality. His relationship with irisveil if he was contracted to kiritsugu could easily go either the way of being more human or cold depending on his writer mindset

Legitimately I can’t imagine a solid 90% of servants managing ryuunosuke, so that would probably come down to a matter of if his pride in being a ‘good’ servant trumps his general honor as a hero. Personally I think he’d probably go for the latter but I’m not sure? Outside of that…I don’t know. Kayneth is odd to me because diarmuid was also very subservient and eager to please with him and he still didn’t like him, but arjuna’s more ‘yeah I’m just a tool’ general vibe might make his feathers less ruffled? Unless his folklore wife stealing ability kicked in with sola-ui somehow anyway 😔.

I don’t think he’d work well w kirei because kirei is just a bad master in general. He would probably be ok with tokiomi but think the guy was kind of full of himself. He wouldnt get him murdered tho lmao.

I can’t fathom how he and kariya would work out. Kariya summons his servant in the worm basement with Zouken present like oh my god-wait it’s a berserker too. Oh my god. Can you fucking imagine arjuna alter in fate zero the man would go even more insane

Waver and arjuna would be funny tho. I don’t know how, but waver with anyone is funny. Shoutout to waver.

As for og fate….I’ve seen others say he probably wouldn’t mesh well with Sakura, as he tends to be too busy with his own sad boy hours to notice other’s issues and also would probably see dark Sakura as more of a problem to take care of, and I’m not familiar enough with her yet to really say otherwise.

shirou and arjuna sounds like a disaster waiting to happen bc imagine archer but like, not at all connected to shirou and also in the history books. He has no reason to look at shirou’s suicidal desire to save everyone and not be like ‘poggers sounds great master I’m doing that also it’s hell on earth but what can you do :)’ and then he sits in a corner for 40 days pretending he doesn’t have human emotions while shirou turns into a sword or something

If it was shinji in the routes where he isn’t actively a rapist and more annoying I could see him just being tiredly tolerant of him, but I have 0 idea how he’d handle heavens feel shinji.

Rin….lmao. I think he’d like cosplaying her butler.

Illya….he would want to cosplay her butler

Caster…yeah I don’t even know. I think he’d be like ?

I don’t even know enough about them to be really saying anything 😭

#my asks

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heytheredeann · 4 months

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Hi :)

For the end of year emoji ask:

🥰😪📝

(I'm greedy, so I asked three, but feel free to pick only one or two from them)

Hope you'll have great day/night!

Thank youuuu, you can definitely ask for as many as you want <3<3

🥰 a piece i’m really proud of and why

I really like how Goodbye gift came out. It's just a little piece of Illya whump from a non-linear Napoleon POV, I don't know what it is about it but I was really inspired when I wrote it and I feel like the fic somehow reflects that, though it might just be in my head looool

😪 a piece that was meant to be short but took on a life of its own

It's not technically very long (to be fair, in general I don't write very long fics to begin with, so loool but this isn't even of the long-ish variety), but I'm picking Mistletoe because this was supposed to be a very small ficlet, like 500 words max, and it ended up being more than 1200 words instead loooool

It really did come to life on its own, I was just along for the ride.

📝 a line or paragraph i’m really happy with

From Kindness:

(Later, she will pretend to be asleep, tucked into an armchair at a close enough distance from them that her heart can sit still, and she’ll hear Solo sigh, likely still hunched over the side of Illya’s bed, hand holding tight onto his, the way she last caught sight of them. “I’m sorry. I’m a terrible partner,” he’ll say, sad but resigned, and there will barely be a breath of pause before Illya will counter: “Of course not. You looked for me.”)

I really like the mental image here, and writing about Napoleon and Illya sharing a Moment(TM) from Gaby's perspective, idk, I think it came out nice looool

send me an emoji!

#thank you so much for playing asdfghjkl #i did have a lot of trouble choosing but i knew that walking in looool #gapollya #napollya #the man from uncle #tmfu #illya x napoleon x gaby #napoleon x illya #not spn #ely replies #ikeepwatchinghelicopters

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brave-symphonia · 2 years

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I woke up today and made the mistake of listening to Last Stardust and I’m just so sad thinking about Shirou.

Like, ever since the fire happens, he never really gets happiness outside of HF. His life up to becoming Archer, his life as Archer, everything he goes through in the HGW, it’s all so sad.

Maybe that’s not right. But, like he never truly becomes a person who is able to be happy. His life is never genuinely happy outside of the end of the HF route, and he has to go through so much to get that.

He ends up going through hell, being the only survivor from the fire. His father figure dies, leaving him with an impossible dream he feels he has to fulfill. He ends up consistently without fail putting everyone’s lives before himself.

He goes through the war, putting no value at all on his own life. Always putting other lives above of his own. In Archer’s route, he spends his whole life like this, never helping himself. And then he dies and makes a deal. And his entire life becomes that of a mercenary. And he completely hates himself for it.

And specifically thinking of the UBW route, him getting a glimpse of his future through Archer’s Reality Marble. Just an endless wasteland with no happy elements. Just endless swords showing how he became nothing more than a soldier. Like it’s so sad, thinking about Shirou seeing that, as Archer he never got to be nothing more than a sword.

In the Fate route, he even tries to save Illya, and it does nothing, she dies anyway. In UBW, he ends up with Rin, but he’s still a sword, he’s still nothing but a machine. He never becomes a person.

Even in HF, he has to go through so much pain, so much suffering in order to become a person again. He literally dies in order to do it. And yeah, Sakura killed those people, but I can’t help but think Shirou feels somewhat responsible for it.

Like, Shirou’s life in every route just makes me so sad. It’s definitely what makes the ending of HF so good. Because you get to see Shirou get a genuinely happy ending where he isn’t a sword. He’s just a human with people he loves.

#zack talks fate #fate stay night #shirou emiya #woke up and just decided to ramble these thoughts out #zack explores nasuverse

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set-phasers-to-whump · 2 years

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it's been a long day

prompt: going into shock

whumpee: illya kuryakin

fandom: the man from uncle

hi!! i had fun with the first part of this fic especially, it was cool to write. i hope you like it!

“Shit, I think…going into shock…Gaby…coming?”

What is shock? It can’t be electricity, he knows what that feels like. This is not that. This is blood. A lot of blood. His blood, mostly. He’s soaked with it, hot and cold all at once.

He doesn’t know why. He remembers…guns and running and heat and noise. Nothing definite. He doesn’t know where he is. He doesn’t like it.

People are touching him. Moving his legs and unzipping his jacket and unbuttoning his collar. Pushing against his stomach.

That hurts. He feels his heart beating where the pressure is. It’s fast. He’s afraid. He doesn’t have the energy to scream, or even to whimper.

The voices above him are still talking. “Soon…hospital…Waverly will…protected.” He has no idea what this means. He knows who is speaking, at least. It’s them.

His head feels disconnected from the rest of his body. Like it is trying to float away. The blood and the pain are separate from this. He feels like he is barely tethered to anything.

He thinks he must be dying. He doesn’t know why. Or. He knows why. The blood. He doesn’t know why he’s bleeding, though. He wants to know.

Someone is touching his face. It takes a long time for him to register this, what with his head being somewhere else.

“Illya.”

That’s his name. It’s her voice. He wants to respond but doesn’t know how.

Another hand on his face. Increased pressure on his stomach. Pain. “Help is almost here.”

And this is his voice. They are both still here. He is not dead yet.

He does not want to die. But he does not know that this can end any other way. There is too much blood. He has cheated death too many times before.

His head grows lighter. Lighter. And then everything goes black, all at once.

He gains consciousness slowly, bit by bit. He feels something soft beneath him. Hears faint noises, too quiet to be identifiable. Smells something unpleasant, clinical. There is an ache in his throat and a curious numbness in his torso. His head feels fuzzy.

Drugs. Surgery. Hospital.

He opens his eyes and his thoughts are confirmed. There is nothing else this place can be.

He shouldn’t be in a hospital. Hospitals are dangerous places for spies, especially in foreign territory. He should get out, now.

But the room is empty except for him. It’s quiet. Dark. He’s tired.

He can deal with being in the hospital later. For now, he’s going back to sleep.

The second time he wakes up, he already knows where he is. His throat still hurts and his torso is still numb. His head is less fuzzy, but he knows there are still drugs in his system. They are masking the pain. He decides they’re not so bad, not right now. He doesn’t want to know what the pain must feel like, underneath.

The room is lighter. And still empty. He wants someone to come in. Maybe that would motivate him to move. For now, he is still too tired to even sit up.

He falls back asleep wishing that he wasn’t alone.

He wakes the third time because someone is touching him. No. Two someones. One on either side of his body, holding his hands.

He opens his eyes, looks to his left and then to his right.

His partners.

They both start talking at once, their voices overlapping into one noise that Illya’s drugged brain cannot parse.

“One at a time,” he says. His tongue feels heavy in his mouth. His throat is scratchy.

“We thought we’d lost you for a while there, Peril,” says Napoleon, from his right. His voice is uncharacteristically quiet, unusually hoarse. He looks…Illya doesn’t have a name for the way he looks. Sad and happy and afraid and relieved all at once.

He looks to his left, at Gaby. She is crying but smiling at the same time. Neither she nor Napoleon looks like they have slept for quite a while. There are dark circles under their eyes. Even Napoleon’s hair is messy.

He doesn’t remember much of anything. Doesn’t remember what exactly had happened. Guns and running and heat and noise. Hands on his face. A sea of blood. Nothing else.

He thinks maybe he doesn’t want to remember. Not if the way his partners look is any indication of how bad it had been.

There are many things he does need to know, however. Why are they here, where is here, how long has it been. But the exhaustion is creeping up on him again.

He falls back asleep, content for now in the simple fact that he is no longer alone. His partners are still holding his hands.

thanks for reading! hope you enjoyed <3

#whumptober2022 #no.20 #going into shock #the man from uncle #fic #illya kuryakin #blood #shock #medical #hospital #my writing #i say things #gratuitous italics up in this bitch...love some good italics

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thessaliah · 2 years

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What do you think about the ones who claim Olga is Fujimaru's Sakura?

I assume they are trolling, using unfortunate very loose/broad strokes comparisons, but if they seriously mean a 1:1 parallel (unlike Goetia vs Guda in the Temple which was even driven as a stronger 1:1 parallel to Kotomine and Shirou by giving him that suicide mystic code), I don't know what to say. More politely, one thing in my mind is that they never actually read or watched Heaven's Feel.

IMO if used as 1:1, it's completely insulting to Shirou, Shirou/Sakura, and Sakura to compare her with this situation. Specifically, I read someone who brings them being guilty about failing Olga as the same thing? Like what? Shirou didn't choose to save Sakura because he felt guilt for her sad past: Shirou saved Sakura because he loved her. She was a fixture in his life for years and the person that was his crutch when he was dealing with his depression after Kiritsugu's death. To Shirou, Sakura is "home" according to Rin, in the UBW route. He agonisingly debated what to do about this for many days, considering killing her directly or indirectly via Rin (if Zouken could use her, before even knowing about the Shadow!), so that wasn't even an easy decision to make. It hurt to read how he considered all the lives he's putting in danger for her sake too. Ultimately, he loves Sakura. That's why he chose to be her ally. Choosing to be Sakura's ally or justice's ally is also Shirou's arc in HF.

It wasn't guilting for what he heard that her life was at all what turned the situation around, and this is important because Shirou has been struggling with Survivor's Guilt since he was a child because only he was saved by Kiritsugu from that fire. Facing his guilt, Shirou refused to use the alleged Holy Grail's wish to save the children in the church's basement. Accepting that failure (the unsaved scorn), his own impotence, and moving on was liberating to Shirou. He tries to save Saber because he loves her again. That's the factor.

Guda has saved a number of damsels in distress (Goredolf included) without any deeply emotional bond forged or love toward them: Corday, Gogh, Yang, Koyan, to name a few. The priestess even witnessed the player's choice of how to handle the Corday situation. There's no need to bond between Olga and Fujimaru to compare it with Sakura and Shirou-- that's bogus, and she's just one of the many chicks that Fujimaru shallowly white knights without any inner debate about the moral of (and not so moral) consequences of their actions. It's not an ongoing character arc, Fujimaru has done this, again and again, there's no exploration or growth from their character in that choice (and that's why is presented as a quick feel-good ticky box instead of a serious inner struggle), but a “samey” action they have repeat time and time again as part of their characterization. While saving Sakura was pivotal for Shirou's arc in HF, Fujimaru's arc is around this 'answer' they are proud of which seems divorced from Olga, she's just a plot feature to them (not saying Olga is a plot device, because I bet she’ll have an arc of her own, but what means to Guda). She would be, IMO, a more important figure in Mash's arc which is about deciding what to protect, fill her void, and how she lacks resolve in her actions, and that's why Galahad put her on read.

Avalon le Fae and Traum are driving to the point to separate Mash and Guda characters more and more. They might support each other, but their scenes are now independent of each other instead of being an echo chamber of two.

It's very easy to forget too Sakura wasn't the only "I want to save them" individual. Shirou wanted to save Illya too (he failed). Bazett wanted to save Angra Mainyu. Kotomine directly drew parallels between U Olga and Angra Mainyu in his "blessing life to be born" with Specimen E's background being more similar to Angra Mainyu than Sakura's issues with the Matou family. With the dual Olga possibility, it seems more of a call-out to CCC Sakura AIs than HF one. Hakuno wanted to save them too. Loops and simulations, dreams and fantasy played a role in CCC and FHA too, not HF. It doesn't mean the resolution is the same, but there are already strong roots in this. I believe Olga will be a more active party as BB/the Mooncell Sakura was than FSN Sakura was in the finale resolution too.

#fgo ask #meta #speculation

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eggcompany · 2 months

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Napoleon- The Cupcake

Napoleon is having a bummer kinda day. Illya does his best to cheer him up. Napoleon gets called a cupcake. Very fluffy, very sweet, cute petnames.

“Aw Bear, you look sad. Why?” The Russian said as he walked back into the bedroom with a bowl of fresh warm popcorn.

Napoleon was laying back against the pile of pillows looking down at his own callused hands. He picked lightly at his fingernails, frowning. He looked up and smiled a bit at his partner.

“Just one of those days Peril.” The American answered. He scooted and situated himself so Illya could crawl up the bed and lay down next to him.

Peril looked suspiciously at Solo while he clambered onto the bed. He laid down so their legs could touch, Illya likes being able to fidget their feet together, and set the bowl of popcorn between them. He could feel the heat radiating from Napoleon’s bare torso. Illya scooted a little bit closer so their shoulders could touch.

“Well… if there’s anything I can do to make you not as sad, tell me. I love you Bear.” Illya said and leaned over so his head was resting on Solo’s shoulder. Napoleon softly knocked his head into Illya’s.

“I love you too Illya. I don’t need anything but thank you.” The american said and turned on the western movie he had convinced Peril to watch. Something like Joseph Wall or something.

They relaxed and watched the movie. Illya was surprised to find out that he rather liked the cowboy movie. When the popcorn ran out, Napoleon put the bowl on the floor near the bed.

Solo turned to look at the Russian.

“What?” Illya said and looked into the gorgeous blue eyes. He couldn’t resist but to lean over and capture the thief’s lips into a long loving kiss. Napoleon relaxed and kissed back tenderly, letting his eyes slip closed.

The kiss changed though when they parted. Illya kissed the tip of Napoleon’s nose and rested their foreheads together.

“You’re pretty.” Napoleon said and pulled one of Illya’s thighs to his own hip, causing the red peril to straddle him.

Illya blushed, as usual, and bent down to keep kissing his Cowboy. Peril cupped Solo’s jaw on both sides and kissed him deeply. Their tongues mingled and Illya happily sucked on Napoleon’s before pulling back.

He stared into Napoleon's eyes and was confused to find that there wasn’t any heat or lust, just love. Peril slid his hands down the american’s neck, down to briefly cup his pecs, and down to rest on his warm strong stomach.

“You are also pretty. Probably much prettier than me. Like a cupcake.” Illya said and leaned to rub his nose on Napoleon's. The American man laughed and kissed Illya again. He rested his hands down on the Russian's hips.

“I am not a cupcake, Peril.” Napoleon says and looks at his lover’s face. A cute face. He tried not to flinch when Illya rubbed his icy hands on his stomach.

“You are my cupcake. You are my cute little cupcake man.” Illya said and leaned forward and laid kisses from behind Napoleon’s ear and down his neck. He kissed and nipped lightly, playfully.

“Do not call me a cupcake.” Napoleon said but there was no bite behind it. Illya smiled against his throat. He continued his kisses around his Cowboy’s neck and down to his collarbones before he started to speak between kisses.

“You are sweet” A kiss where his heart is. “You are fluffy” Twin kisses on his pecs. “You are nice and warm” Kisses leading all over his stomach. “And you look very delicious in a suit.” Illya said and scooted his hips down so he could lay his head on Napoleon’s abs.

Napoleon was a certain shade that could be described as ‘ tomato red’ as he watched Illya be so… delicate with him.

“You are my cupcake, dear cowboy. My fluffy warm sweet cupcake.” Illya said and looked up at the raven haired man, his chin resting on his pale sternum.

“You are… terrible. A terrible terrible man, Peril.” Napoleon said and put one of his hands into the soft blonde hair. Illya snarled at him and then buried his face in the warm perfect skin below him.

Napoleon’s muscles jumped a bit at the feeling of a freezing cold nose digging into his stomach. Napoleon groaned at the feeling of Illya sliding his hands underneath him to warm his paws against the american’s back.

“A real nuisance.” Napoleon said as he ran his hand through Illya’s hair.

#fanfic #egg_company #the man from uncle #napoleon x illya #illya kuryakin #napoleon solo #napollya

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trashfrommuncle · 4 years

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Every first meeting fic ever:

Illya: *before UNCLE*

Illya: i hAVe cRippLINg depRessIOn

Illya: *gets hurt on a mission*

Illya: I havE oStEOpOrOsIs

Illya: *sees Napoleon*

Illya: iM gAY

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shuttershocky · 3 years

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yknow whatd be extremely sad? if Guda got old they one day start forgetting small things like chores, but then they slowly start forgetting the names of people they knew, and eventually go full dementia and start forgetting the servants they contracted with.

Memory is fragile and fallible. Not even the ones about the people you love are meant to last forever, but that doesn’t matter. Fate/Stay Night and Fate/Hollow Ataraxia wrote about exactly this.

You WILL forget people, especially the people you met from cruelly-temporary circumstances. Whether that’s from ages of not seeing them, or your mind growing old, or simply because you did not have enough time with them, it’s just an inevitability.

But that’s okay. Your feelings are more than the sound of their voice, the details of their face, or the letters in their name. This is precisely why in the movie Your Name, Taki writes “I love you” on Mitsuha’s hand before he vanishes. He already saw that time correcting itself erased their texts and letters and the little quirks they knew about each other, but never how they felt. Writing his name on Mitsuha’s hand would not have stayed when he disappeared as time would not see their meeting as being “real”, but how he felt about her in that moment could not be changed by anything.

Likewise, even if Guda’s adventures come to an end and they return to an ordinary life, with Chaldea just being a distant memory that fades with time, it absolutely will not change the nature of the bonds they made with everyone. In fact, if the servants cannot stay with Guda after their mission is over, it will just make their adventures all that more precious.

One of my favorite Type-Moon scenes ever is a scene in Hollow Ataraxia where Illya loans her castle out to Shirou so he could treat Sakura like a princess for a day. After getting a dress, getting toured through a castle, fed a banquet, and then taken for a stroll in the gardens, Sakura says she’s never been happier, and Shirou says he could ask illya to let them do this all again soon. Sakura declines and says she would rather this be the only time she’s given a day like this in her life, and never again.

#Anonymous

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maxwell-grant · 3 years

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I was inspired by your Ryu post so I wanted to ask about another Street Fighter character. Growing up I didn't play the games but I had the toys and of all the toys my absolute favorite was Necro. I loved him and thought he had to be the center of the SF universe. Now I know better but the guy still has a special place in my heart. What would your 5 tenets be for handling Necro the strange rubberband man?

Oh man, I really love this ask, this is exactly the kind of question I dearly love to answer and would not get anywhere else. I really like Necro, he's a character I've grown to really love over time, and I also love reading stories like these, about the kinds of ideas people develop for certain stories or franchises based on what little information they have, that end up becoming almost like little glimpses into alternate scenarios. I really like reading these stories and I would eagerly appreciate being sent more of them if any of you all have some to spare.

I remember back when I discovered JJBA for the first time through it's tangential connection to Street Fighter, way before the anime and before I even knew how to read English proper, and how I used to think Lisa Lisa was the main character because she was associated with Rose, who's heavily associated with tarot cards, and because all I could find about Jojo was stuff on Part 3 and Heritage specifically, I thought it was a series about a bunch of weird tarot mystics duking it out (turned out it was about a bunch of weird -everything- duking it out and tarot was only a very very tiny part of it).

I'm not sure if I even 5 "tenets" for handling Necro, he's a very simple character who barely gets featured as is in the series, but I'll make an effort here. I've done a lot more for a lot less.

1: Necro is an outcast, a weirdo even among weirdos. He's a science fiction comic book character.

As described by one of his designers,

Necro - A warrior who emits electricity from his body, and can elongatae his limbs. The sad tale of a man who got developed into a weapon by the secret society Gill is in charge of.

Necro was a character took a lot of inspiration from Street Fighter 2. Primarily Dhalsim, of course. Dhalsim elongates his limbs because of his mastery of yoga, but regular people obviously can't do that, so we went a bit of a science fiction-y route by making him a human who had been experimented on.

He was conceived as the "oddball" of Street Fighter III, even exemplified by him taking traits from Blanka and Dhalsim, the previous oddballs of the franchise. Visually, Necro doesn't look like a representative of a fighting style or nationality the way most of the other characters do (or at least did, before SFIV), he looks like he wandered off a Hellboy or X-Men comic and ended up on the wrong franchise, this comic book comparison seems to have been even reinforced recently as Capcom's taken some steps to characterize Effie as a Harley Quinn-analogue, and I think it helps to set Necro apart as a character: He's a Superhero Comic Book character born in a franchise not built to accomodate him, where he's never gonna find his calling as a costumed adventurer or part of a team of fellow freaks, he's just gonna fight people while on the run from his creators trying to put him down.

While on paper Necro's design is often boiled down to "Dhalsim meets Blanka", I'd argue he uses these gimmicks better than the other two. He uses his electric powers in ways other than just shocking himself on contact, and stretching-wise he uses his powers in much more varied ways than Dhalsim, in a way he almost reads like Street Fighter's equivalent to Plastic Man, another stretchy punk character with an unusually grim origin who ends up becoming one of the cast's cartoonier characters. And speaking of said origin,

2: Necro is arguably the darkest, and the most tragic, of the Street Fighter III newcomers: Necro's entire origin is that he used to be a poor peasant named Illya, living in a deserted Russian village with 4 siblings (two older brothers, one younger sister), who left his home and family when he was 18 looking for a better life of freedom and riches. At some point, he was tricked by the Illuminati with the promise of a great future, and turned into a freakish pale monster with elastic rubber skin, electric powers and a computer in his brain to enhance his fighting abilities. One of Necro's earliest victory lines even was "I'm in pain!", which is something he says even when he wins, which possibly indicates his powers hurt in some capacity.

He was made into a slave fighting under the command of the Illuminati (you see the scientists mess around with his monitors in his stage), fighting based on the promise Gill made to him of eventually getting his freedom (and he secretly wants to take revenge on Gill). Gill in his ending then lies to him and entraps him to be destroyed as nothing but an expendable failure, and then he's rescued by his girlfriend Effie. His plotline in Third Strike is that the two of them are on the run from the Illuminati, which is trying to kill the two of them purely to cover up their existence, and there is no one they can rely on other than themselves.

Personality-wise, Necro can be snappy and bitter, he makes grim jokes about how he can smell "freshly cooked brain matter" or see the sweat crackle off his defeated enemy, and in 1st Generation/2nd Impact in particular there's a desperation to some of his victory lines like "Get outta my way or I'll tear you limb from limb!" and "I'll win by any means necessary. I will survive!", which only makes sense considering he's quite literally fighting for his freedom and his life in a way none of the other fighters are (it shows even in how much more mellowed out he is in Third Strike, because he's no longer with the Illuminati and he's got Effie). A SF3 Q&A from Gamest released prior to Third Strike that detailed information on the characters even remarked that Necro regarded every fight as an exertion made "to earn tomorrow's freedom". Where as his motivation in 2nd Impact emphasized his desire for freedom and revenge, all he wants in 3rd Strike is to escape with Effie from the Illuminati targeting him.

He's not a soldier, he doesn't work with law enforcement, he's got no allies among the main cast, he's not a trained warrior, he was an 18 year old kid who tried to find a better life outside of home and was transformed into a monster and shackled, and is now currently on the run from a criminal organization that practically controls the world, with seemingly no end in sight.

3: ...But all things considered he's actually taking it really well.

Necro's got an interesting dychotomy character-wise because, despite having an unusually grim origin by Street Fighter standards and a design that's meant to be eerie and corpse-like (it's in his name after all), he's got a fairly upbeat, cocky attitude as a fighter, he's extremely expressive and cartoony even by Street Fighter designs.

Character-wise, Necro's far from a bad guy. He's a well-meaning misfit with a chip on his shoulder (and brain) who, amidst all the bad hands he's been dealt, has managed to achieve exactly what he wanted even as Illya: freedom. His endings are downright sappy and uncharacteristically so among the cast, as they depict him and Effie overcoming the odds and running off together into the sunset, or him using his superhero powers to rescue her and proclaiming that, for the first time, he's grateful for his freakish body that lets him protect what matters to him.

(Art by Gene Fayne)

4: Necro and Effie are dorks

Actually, Necro's a dork even without Effie joining him for singing win poses, laying down next to him when he's defeated, or dressing up for Halloween. He cracks poses with his stretchy powers while fighting, he sings opera when he wins, he canonically likes "love poetry" and even has this really dumb rhyme for a win quote (I'm long and strong! To challenge me would be so wrong!), he likes to use his body as a pirate radio station, and remember how I mentioned that his backstory describes that he left his village to find freedom and riches? In that Q&A mentioned above written for 2nd Impact, we get to read what Necro's dream looks like, before Effie came along:

A dream to him?

A: Things such as a Rolex on his arm while eating a hamburger, jeans and a T-shirt while driving a Benz around.

That's what being rich and free looked like to him. Driving a car with a fancy watch and eating hamburgers. This is all the dude wanted in life. Just the simplest, dumbest pleasures that he never got to have growing up.

(Art by betofu)

5: Necro was designed from the start to have a romantic angle to his storyline, and while he can work as a character without it, with Effie, he becomes one of the rarest things in fighting games: A captivating love story

As Sadamoto elaborated recently on the origins of Effie

We also made a girlfriend for him.

Capcom Representative: Effie, right? Effie was planned from pretty early on, wasn't she?

Tomoshi Sadamoto: Yes, yes. We worked out a supporting cast for the characters to deepen their backstories from the very beginning, to bring them out in their endings and such. Every character in the game has supporting characters attached to them, right?

Capcom Representative: Indeed, there are loads.

Tomoshi Sadamoto: Contrary to the Street Fighter 2 days, it was difficult to tell a story with just the characters alone, so we wanted secondary cast members to develop the main cast more deeply.

Capcom Representative: So you created the very characters with their supporting cast in mind as well?

Tomoshi Sadamoto: Yes, it's good to have as many hooks as possible to reel people in with.

It's good that people seemed to like that a lot, as well.

This in particular I think comes back to what you mentioned in your ask, about how you used to think that Necro was the center of the SF universe and then you found out he wasn’t.

Because this used to be one of the greatest things about fighting games: the fact that someone who played the games off the arcade could have made the same assumption you did. The fact that, at the character select screen, knowing nothing about the game or what lore it has or where the storyline is going, every character can be the protagonist. Every character had a complete storyline, a motivation, a supporting cast of their own. Necro wasn’t any different from Alex, or Ibuki, or Dudley, he wasn’t given any more or less attention than they were, it all depended on just how much the player wanted to invest into the character, how much they wanted to learn, how willing they were to fight their way to the boss and learn about their future in the ending.

Every character was their own universe you could learn glimpses about through the bits the game would give you and you could look up later. This is lost when the game prioritizes the existence of a singular big story where obviously some characters are expected to take precedence over others, and this is certainly not a bad approach, it’s basic storytelling. But putting it like that, I suspect this may be part of the reason why I’m deeply indifferent to superhero events where every character becomes the ensemble of a juggling act.

Or to put it simply: Anon, it doesn’t matter that Necro is a low-tier, obscure, barely featured character in a universe full of vastly more important or well-liked characters, and none of that matters, because those other characters didn’t have the impact on you Necro did, none of them were the strange rubberman who made for the best toy of the bunch and gained that special place in your heart, none of the others mattered to you the way Necro did.

To you, Necro’s the center of the Street Fighter universe, because he’s at the center of the way you interacted with it. Even if you’re not really a fan of Street Fighter in general, that place in your heart occupied by the strange rubberman and the joy of a childhood toy, is something you’re gonna carry with you for life. Frankly, that’s the highest honor that could possibly be attached to any character or piece of media.

#replies tag #street fighter #necro #effie #capcom #videogames #deeply delighted to hear that Necro was someone's favorite Street Fighter character #personally my favorite was Sagat #I even got into Muay Thai because of it #and today even was the first day I was able to go back to Muay Thai after 5 years #i'm feeling great because of it and this ask was particularly timely

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whitherliliesbloom · 3 years

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your voice will save me

[ ffxivwrite2021 ] ★ [ masterlist ] ★ [ prompt #23 - soul ]

[ alphinaud/wol ] ★ [ 2,416 words ] ★ [ post-5.3 ]

a sequel to a fill i did from last year’s ffxivwrite. i had the idea for this fic for a whole year but never got to write it. aka, it took one year for me to finally give alphinaud closure.

soul- the spiritual part of a person that some people believe continues to exist in some form after their body has died

it’s a long time coming, but alphinaud thinks he should finally tell the warrior of light the words his soul has been yearning to say for thousands of years

Revenant’s Toll feels particularly cold with the nightly breeze, and it sends chills down Alphinaud’s spine as he casts his glance outwards to look upon Silvertear falls, watching as the sky, now free from miasma, is glimmering with a sea of swaying stars that casts distant reflections of light upon the lake where the wings of a great wyrm once stood vigil.

He shivers, grasping at his gloved hand to steady himself, counting his own breaths as he looks upon the tower of crystals with a pang of hurt that leaves his throat dry. The sight of the tower alone reminds him of skyscrapers and the sound of distant rain, and memories that were not his own flash, albeit briefly, through his head like a bolt that strikes at his very heart.

The boy barely manages to compose himself, steel himself with the resolve and cool that a distant, untarnished version of himself had once possessed. Even in the midst of falling stars, a rain of fire and rivers of blood that ran the streets, that man..... himself from an ancient time, Alphinaud acknowledges bitterly with bit lips, he would not allow his emotions to sway him so.

And yet when he hears a familiar voice call out to him from behind, call out to his very soul that has been aching since the beginning of time, he knew that the him of the present was incapable of being as cold and unfeeling as he had once been.

“Alphinaud?” his flower whispers a name into the night, his name. The name of his current form, one that he can barely hang on to as yet another brief flash of a blazing meteor shower tears through his focus. “You called for me?”

“Yes.” He holds his breath, turns around and gazes down at her with a muddied, dishonest smile upon his face. “I....I wanted to talk to you.” there’s hesitation as he speaks, pain laced in his tone, but Illya makes no remark on it as she moves to stand next to the man, crystal violet eyes cast skywards at the dead of the night. “I’m not bothering you am I?”

“You never bother me.” Illya responds swiftly, her fingers resting upon the stone railing and shivering a tad as she finds the surface cool to the touch.

He swallows the lump in his throat, eyes averting her own and body fidgety, restless as he attempts to find the words in him to even begin speaking - because heaven knows there are so many he wants to say to her.

Previous countless mental rehearsals are now forgotten, replaced with only the raw emotions of a flickering, barely visible light within him.

“I.... I just wanted... To call you out here to... Well... clarify some things... and... and to apologize for others...”

His voice is sheepish, timid, completely unlike the assured confidence of her beloved scholar who had been so eager and ready, eyes blazing with confidence during his fight against the specters of light, his magicks woven from his passion like bursts of fire and gusts of summer wind.

But her smile is still patient and kind as she watches him carelessly stumble upon his words, a hand raising up to tuck a long fluttering strand of hair behind her ear as it blew effortlessly in the lake breeze.

“I never did apologize... Well, there are a lot of things I have to apologize for but-” Alphinaud frowns, “I-I.. I could not well carry on without first trying to apologize to you for all of my transgressions.” Inhaling sharply, the elezen clenches his fist and casts his gaze down upon the stone under his feet. “I’m sorry for worrying you so much all the time, especially when my soul had been pulled to the first. I’m sorry for not being there for you when you struggled with yourself... I’m sorry for putting you through such heinous betrayal because of my incompetence as a commander of the Crystal Braves. I’m sorry for all the times I used you, doubted you, hurt you...”

His voice shakes with the sorrow worth many years of regret, of the guilt he’s pent up and swore to himself he’d make amends for. His heart is aching, the agony of his own past sins coming back to haunt a more mature, wiser, older form of himself now. But he knows it is nothing compared to what he has put her through.

“When we first arrived in Ishgard, I promised you that I would do better - be better for the sake of the others and you who I have wronged. I don’t know if I’ve gotten far enough yet to say I’ve fulfilled that promise... And for that too, I am truly sorry.”

lllya parts her lips to speak, but her voice is hushed, watching as what little shred of dignity has drained from Alphinaud’s navy blue eyes with a sea of cyan sadness washing through her own. And when she takes a step towards him, he holds his hand up and she swallows back her protests reluctantly, intent to listen to his heart until the end even if it killed her to do so.

“And... and also... I’m sorry for pushing you away.”

That statement applies to himself from six summers ago, but the distant glaze in his eyes as he attempts to recall memories of a long forgotten city tells the girl that he was referring to otherwise, and she casts him a confused tilt of her head before he finally speaks again.

“In a time long past... in a city of creation and innovation... That man, Apollo...” Alphinaud shakes his head. Saying another name that was not his own would be deflecting the blame, “the unsundered form of myself sought to reach distant heights that I believed not even the convocation could dream to match. And in my vain, egotistical pursuit for ideals that I wasn’t worthy of I...” He chokes back a sob, the thought of his sins against her too much for even himself to even recount. “I hurt you. I told you such blatant, awful lies. I let my jealousy and my own incompetence sweep me away. I-”

“Alphinaud.”

Her voice calls out his name. His name. The name of his current form - his present form. It is the only name Illya knows and will ever acknowledge.

And though her expression is stern, eyebrows furrowed and peach pink lips pressed into a tight line, she still says his name like melted caramel, unbearably sweet and warm in its tone.

“I can accept your apology for everything else. I forgive you. But you’re beginning to apologize for mistakes that aren’t your own.”

“But I am- I mean... it... is me.”

In a way, he acknowledges... Not fully, of course... but the revelations of what had been his past life is proof enough that he, even if a fourteenth fraction of what had once been the man named Apollo, he still must bear part of the responsibility.

He’s lucky enough as he is to have been granted a second chance, just as Apollo had begged and prayed to the heavens for. He cannot even fathom a world where he had not met Illya anymore.

His beloved smiles, hand raised up to press against her beating heart, as if to feel the essence of her twice rejoined soul. She searches for whispers of herself - of the perfection version of the woman she once was, feeling the bright amethyst constellation stone that bore the insignia of the blistering sun warm in her pocket. She hears no words, only a wave of emotions that cascade through her and almost sweeps her away - she has after all ever been the most sensitive with the voices of unseen beings.

But even with the two shards of a whole soul shone brightly within her, and she can almost envision the visage of a dusty, quiet library in her mind, there is not a trace of anger or hurt in her heart.

“I am Illya Skawi. And you are Alphinaud Leveilleur.” Her gentle tone belies the weak little tremble in her voice as her eyes swirl with an ocean of unfiltered emotions. “I am nowhere near as perfect as Chloris, I know I can never be.” Her hands clasp together tightly, held close to her chest as if to guard her heart. “I may inherit her will... but I will never be her.”

Where Chloris had bright, flawless sanguine pink eyes that morphed in hue to reflect her thoughts, Illya inherited a pair of more timid orbs of lavender twilight. Where Chloris had unmarred skin of a porcelain doll, Illya’s skin was covered with a map of the galaxy - the speckle of stars from bullet holes upon her thighs, the milky way that cut across her collar bone and the auroras taking the form of teeth marks all over her abdomen.

And where Chloris had an unparalleled talent for optimism, charisma and hope, what remained in Illya was only the painful, unreciprocated love she had for the world that would be the very bane of her mental stability for as long as she can remember.

Even with her soul reunited with Ardbert’s, she knows she is but a husk of what had once been the fourteenth member of the convocation - of azem... Emet-Selch at least wasn’t mistaken in spelling that fact out.

“And the woman that Apollo loved is not me - not this ugly, fragmented, weak little shard as I am.”

That’s absolute nonsense, Alphinaud wants to retort. Illya is anything but. It may not who Chloris had once been - but it is who the woman he loves is. Whole, beautiful and divine, her hair is woven from moonlight and her eyes are pressed from a bouquet blossomed flowers. Her voice a melody of a songbird, her skin a distant and unexplored, yet welcoming cosmos. She is a ray of hope, not just for him, but practically everyone else he knows... and he could think of no better personification of perfection than her.

The world may disagree, the ancients may cry in protest and the whole, unbroken version of him may think to question his judgement.

But Alphinaud knows, even if he is wrong about everything else and will continue to be as imperfect and sinfully tainted as he is, that he isn’t wrong about her.

“You’re not- You are not....ugly...” the words die at his throat, he’s lacking in the strength to debate as fervently as he is usually capable of doing. “Or weak for that matter. You’re...”

“I’m not Chloris. And you’re not Apollo, either. Perhaps we were once upon a time, but not now, not here.”

The breeze picks up and howls in his ears, carrying the chill of his doubts and guilt away into the night. And as the bearer of hopes and miracles flashes him a radiant smile, he feels his chest clenching with a warmth that he can barely contain.

Illya turns to look back over Silvertear falls, the light from the moon and the fields of crystals casting a halo over her hair as it fluttered like a veil in the wind. Her skin glows with color, warm against the backdrop of grey stone and dark blue sky.

“I did ponder over the circumstances of our meeting... If it was pure coincidence or a mechanism of fate bringing their souls... our souls together again.” Illya hums, fiddling with her fingers as she contemplates out loud. “And I wonder... if the other shards of Chloris and Apollo are so tightly wound together that they’d meet again in other worlds too...”

“They will.” He answers on impulse, as if his entire being already knew the answer. “I believe they will.”

It’s a naive and an impossibly idealistic wish... one with a hint of selfishness and ego too, perhaps... but those are the core of who he is- who his soul is. And if Apollo loved Chloris even half as much as he loved Illya, then he knows, is certain with all his heart that the thread that keeps their fourteen souls tied together for eternity will not be so easily severed.

There’s a quiet that looms over them, with only the sounds of the wind and the chirping of the crickets ringing in the air. Illya doesn’t turn to look back at him for a minute, lost in her own thought and drowning in a pool of her own emotions - thousands of years worth of them.

“That’s good. I’m glad...”

When the girl turns around, her violet eyes are wet with crystal clear tears, they catch the rays of moonlight and reflect off her face as they roll down her cheeks past upturned lips.

“Because Chloris loved Apollo, you know? She loved him very very much.”

Alphinaud hadn’t noticed when he’d started crying either, quiet sobs breaking out of him as he lets out a choked laugh, raising a gloved hand to feebly wipe away his tears.

“He did too. He loved her so much that it killed him.”

His heart is so full to the brim, spilling with unbearable adoration and devotion. When Illya spreads her arms out wordlessly, sniffling back her own trickling, glistening tears, he picks her up and wraps his arms tightly around her, feeling the beating of his heart match in tandem with her own.

In their warm, tender embrace, he hears the echoes of a distant past - yet another vision of a splitting star flashes in his mind. But he doesn’t flinch this time as he holds his entire world in his arms, afraid and determined to never let go.

“I love you. I love you.” Her declaration is all he hears, along with quiet whispers of his name. His real name.

Alphinaud. Alphinaud. Alphinaud. Alphinaud.

This love was hers to bear, and no one else’s - not Chloris, not Ardbert, not the twelve other flickering star blossoms that are out there, undoubtedly fighting with their entire being to reunite with their own other half. And no cry of ancient beings, no fracturing of worlds or falling of the moon or stars will stop her from loving him. Even until the sun sets, even until the end of times.

And though their souls may have been set adrift, he knew that his soul would always be destined to love hers in return.

“I love you too, Illya.”

#ffxiv #final fantasxy xiv #ffxivwrite2021 #ffxivwrite #kiwisffxivwrite2021 #illya skawi #alphinaud leveilleur #alphinaud #we've come so far #fanfic #mine #THIS IS A RESULT OF A WHOLE YEAR OF THINKING ABOUT THIS IDEA AND THEN THIS PROMPT CAME OUT #I actually wanted to write this RIGHT AFTER i wrote that fill from last year but #i got lazy hue... as usual #hey this turned out pretty good though so #I LOVE THEM SO MUCH GOD THEY DESERVE THE WHOLE WORLD AND MORE

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cha-melodius · 2 years

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2021 Fic Year in Review

This is based partly off a year-in-review post I did last year and another one that floated across my dash recently. Feel free you grab it if you want to do your own review!

AO3 Username: chamel My Page: Link Fandoms: The Man from UNCLE (movie), Loki/MCU, The Mandalorian Total Number Of Completed Works/Word Count This Year: 16 works, 247k words Of All Time: 51 works, 653k words

Most Popular One Shot (by kudos): (Does the first work in a series count as a one-shot? What if you intended it to be a one-shot and then accidentally wrote a series around it? I counted it like that last year, but idk, lol.) This Year & All Time: What Makes A Good Man (Loki, Loki/Mobius, T, 8.5k words)

Most Popular Completed Multi-Chapter (by kudos): This Year: Another First Kiss (TMFU, Illya/Napoleon, M, 11k words) Of All Time: Do You Promise Not to Tell? (The Mandalorian, Cara/Din, E, 87.7k words)

More reflections and such below the cut!

Looking Back, Did You Write More Fic Than You Thought You Would This Year, Less, Or About What You’d Expected? Hmmm, I don’t know that I had expectations going into the year, really. I guess less, though, because I wrote less than I did in 2020 even though it FELT like I wrote a lot.

What’s Your Own Favorite Story Of The Year? Said it before, I’ll say it again (and again): Love is a Losing Game. I feel like it has the best narrative arc and is the most fully realized work of fiction I’ve ever done. I just love it so so much.

Do You Have Any Writing Goals For The New Year? Write more? 😅 Idk actually, maybe try to produce more one-shots and fics under 15k words. I do enjoy writing the long fics but sometimes I feel overwhelmed by them.

Did You Take Any Writing Risks This Year? I guess jumping into a new fandom counts. It’s always a bit nerve wracking to hit post in a new fandom, especially one in which there is a lot of content being produced (at the time, at least). But I’ve been overwhelmed by the positive response to my stories!

Story Of Mine Most Under-Appreciated By The Universe, In My Opinion Probably Enough of a Natural Disaster for Me. I don’t know why that had a lackluster performance. Also I have been surprised that You, or Your Memory hasn’t found a lot of traction.

Most Fun Story To Write The Makings of a Perfect Christmastime (writing a screwball comedy is too much fun), followed closely by Here It Goes Again (because I love time loops)

Biggest Disappointment Honestly, it’s been a bit sad that the Lokius fandom started SO strong and faded SO fast. I mean, don’t get me wrong, the people who are still active are AMAZING, and I am so so grateful for the response to the Good Man series and how engaged everyone is, but for a fandom who was in tumblr’s top ten, the hits and kudos numbers have definitely fallen off dramatically from where we started.

Biggest Surprise That said, the response to What Makes A Good Man when I published it was overwhelming in the best way, and the sheer number of people who are still into my crazy AU was unexpected by amazing. Thank you to all of you who are still reading along and letting me know your theories and yelling at me for angsty chapters. You make it all worth it!

Coming Soon/Planned

Sequel to You Must Be A Christmas Tree (Napollya)

Probation AU for my MTH winners (Lokius)

Chess Olympiad sequel to Love is a Losing Game (Napollya)

GBBO AU (Lokius)

Art thief-restorer/gallery owner AU (Napollya)

ISS AU (Napollya)

Westworld AU (Lokius)

Void time loop (Lokius

5+1 of Illya getting hot and bothered over Napoleon

Post-UNCLE reunion fic (Napollya)

#year in review #writing #fanfic #fic year in review

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cinebration · 4 years

Text

Cordial (Napoleon Solo x Reader) [Part 14]

Reunion at U.N.C.L.E.

Tagged: @ly--canthrope, @maan24, @eefjedegraaf, @omgkatinka, @tiffanypooh, @ramenyul, @crispysublimecupcake, @cavillhavoc, @martinafigoli, @illbegoinhome

Warnings: none

Gif Source: netals

The tickets U.N.C.L.E. had provided placed Solo on the other end of the plane—as far away from you as possible. Worse still, Solo was stuck at the back, doomed to hear the engines ahead of him and the toilet flushing behind him.

He could see you at the front in the aisle seat, your face in three-quarter profile. A scarf hid your hair, although that wasn’t its purpose. Solo knew it was draped to hang down the side of your face—concealing your scar.

Turbulence prevented him from maneuvering his way to the empty seat beside you. Any time he made to stand, the stewardess guided him back to his seat. Something about the hard look in the woman’s eye made Solo think Waverly had planted her there to ensure he behaved.

Frustrated, Solo watched your profile the whole flight.

A car waited for you both outside the terminal. You beat him to it, bag and all. As Solo drew up to the sedan, he half expected it to peel away from the curb, forcing him to hail a taxi.

To his surprise, it remained in place.

Slipping in beside you, he glanced aside. You stared out the passenger window, sunglasses perched on your nose. A rather shapely one, he noted, but the thought went no further.

Instead, he tried to be civil. It never sat well with him to be at odds with women—perhaps a byproduct of how his mother had raised him. “Peril and Gaby will be happy to see you.”

You made a noncommittal sound.

God, you could be infuriating. Solo tried again. “They prefer your company.”

“Certainly because I have substance,” you muttered.

Solo took it as a good response. It was near enough to your old repartee to be encouraging. He sat back in his seat and didn’t press it.

Small victories.

Gaby pulled you in for an uncharacteristic hug. “It’s nice to have someone on my side again.”

You smiled at her and at Kuryakin, who returned it with one of his own and a polite, “It is good to see you are better.”

“Why shouldn’t she be? She’s tough.”

“Yes.”

They glanced at Solo with bland expressions. Solo resisted the urge to roll his eyes and tried to take your bag. Your grip tightened on it.

Kuryakin immediately stepped forward. “Let me take that.”

You handed it over just as Waverly strode into the room.

“Ah,” he said, “I see we are all here. Excellent. Was the flight bearable? I’m told it wasn’t a smooth one.”

He shot a glance at Solo, confirming his suspicions about the stewardess.

“Bearable is exactly the word,” you answered. “Are we being briefed now?”

“Straight to business, then.” Waverly stepped aside and swept his arm out toward the adjacent room.

On his desk sat a few slim folders. He passed them out accordingly. Solo flipped his open. It detailed a brief biography attached to an alias he was familiar with: his own.

“That seems like a risk,” he said, glancing at Waverly.

“No one is going to question that you would exploit the black market,” Waverly answered.

“I was an art and antiquities dealer.”

“I suppose you simply became greedy, then.”

Gaby snickered, and Kuryakin grinned. Solo shifted his attention to you.

There was no humor in your face. If anything, you seemed graver than before. For the first time, he noticed how haggard you looked. A wisp of hair peeked out from beneath the scarf, falling over your forehead. Dark circles ringed your eyes, though he had been certain you slept on the plane.

His gut clenched.

“Miss Teller will be posing as a German buyer, Kuryakin as a Russian one, clearly, and you,” Waverly said, looking at you, “will be a Cuban one. Is that acceptable?”

You nodded curtly, though a certain sadness tinged your features. “Are Illya and I expected to be friendly or antagonistic?”

“In light of Russia and Cuba’s current relationship, I would advise a wary collaboration.”

You nodded. “Maybe Russia wants to store their newly acquired weapon on Cuba.”

“Highly inadvisable,” Kuryakin noted, “but it will work.”

“Excellent. The meeting is scheduled in Geneva three days from now,” Waverly said. “You fly out tomorrow afternoon. Understood?”

You nodded and snapped the file shut, tucking it under one arm. Solo did the same, following you with his peripherals.

Gaby frowned at you. “You should get some sleep.”

Nodding in agreement, you let her lead you out of the office and to your room. Waverly arched an eyebrow at Solo before dismissing him and Kuryakin with a wave of his hand.

The Russian drew up alongside Solo. “At least you brought her back.”

Solo tensed but kept from showing it. “You continue to underestimate me.”

“I see that she still hates you.”

Solo’s step faltered. He tried to play it off. “Hate? Me? I believe you’re projecting, Peril.”

Kuryakin smiled. “You should grovel.”

Solo arched his eyebrows and looked at him. “Grovel.”

“Yes.” Kuryakin stopped and peered down at him. “How did you say it? ‘Remember, take it like a pussy’?”

Solo glared at him. Chuckling to himself, the Russian strode away, triumphant.

Solo couldn’t help but consider it. Even if it was sincere, groveling would most likely push you further away. He could picture your lip curling in snide contempt.

No, that wouldn’t do.

But something else might.

#Napoleon Solo x Reader #Napoleon Solo #Napoleon Solo imagine #Henry Cavill #Henry Cavill x Reader #Henry Cavill imagine #The Man from UNCLE #The Man from U.N.C.L.E.

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