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help I remembered eilidh and oisín and eilidh and Raphael the other day and IM STILL WEEPING

god yeah I haven't thought about them in a long time but. here's the thing. they get very different versions of Eilidh, and I can't imagine them trading lol. Oisín is so much a part of who pirate!Eilidh is, even though he's like. an oasis away from her real life? Because he's someone she can be her sharpest, cruelest, most angry self with, and where everywhere else that would start a fight, he just takes it. It's like he absorbs all of that and underneath there's this sadness and loneliness and sometimes even kindness that hardly anyone else in her life gets to see. Flint having seen some of it when they were younger is part of why she hates him so much now. Silver sees glimpses of it sometimes and they both ignore it, just like they ignore his. But Oisín somehow makes space for it. With him in the woods is the only time she feels like she can really breathe. It physically pains her to say nice things to him. She'd kill for him.

Raphael doesn't know that Eilidh at all. His Eilidh might as well have come from the summer light through the trees, warm and soft and ephemeral against his solidity. He brings out Eilidh's deep loyalty and patience, he slows her down. He also brings out a sadness in her, but it's not a lonely sadness. It's the sadness that comes from having loved so deeply that the grief warms you even when it hurts. It's the sadness of turning to your friend on a beautiful day and realizing they aren't there with you, they've slipped away and may not be back in time to see the sunset.

When pirate!Eilidh visits Oisín and he isn't there, she steals some bacon and goes away again, annoyed. When Raphael's Eilidh finds him sitting like a rock behind the church, she sits beside him and waits.

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traditional godmodding: your character is too weak to defeat my character in a fight

me godmodding: your character has grey hairs now :)

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joke’s on him, Eilidh very much considers this a win XD

eilidh is replacing all of johannes's pens with glitter gel pens. yw hanzie :)

Hanzie is irritated but not about to let Eilidh win this round. He writes his notes in green glitter gel.

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There was a parcel on Eilidh's drawing desk. Wrapped in plain brown paper and tied with twine.

Tucked into the twine, a note:

Although it has been a few years, I thought you might like this back. --J

It was a simple artist's portfolio. One edge was dented and scuffed, as if it had been dropped, and although several of the pages were loose, all were in their proper order.

The artwork itself was terrible, and not Eilidh's.

If Eilidh had thought about it over the years, and she wasn't sure she had, she would have assumed the portfolio had been discarded. Cabal was not a sentimental man, not in the traditional sense, and he certainly had no reason to keep something like this around--something with no practical value to him, a reminder of an unpleasant interaction that neither of them recalled with any fondness, regardless of what had come after. And of course they hadn't been friends then. He wouldn't have kept it for her, surely.

Eilidh sat in a soft armchair with the package, still wrapped, in her hands, not needing to open it to recognize what it was. She thought about the last time she had held it. How hard she had hit him, with her mistaken enthusiasm. The book fluttering to the ground. Her fear of the stranger she hadn't seen clearly until he turned on her in anger.

And then she thought about a very ordinary day just last week, over tea and chess, when she had noticed the fine grey hairs scattered through the blond at Johannes's temple as he frowned down at the board. After a terrible beginning, after hurting and hating one another, they had managed to become so settled in one another's lives that Eilidh could watch his unguarded face closely enough to count his grey hairs. Johannes could put his hand on her back to keep her safely away from the hot kettle he was carrying in the kitchen, and all the touch made her feel was comfort and warmth. Maybe he had brought it back because they no longer needed it, she mused. They had been bound together by guilt and regret, by the memory of that moment and what followed, both of them trying to overcome their worst instincts out of necessity, because they both loved Horst, because they couldn't avoid each other. And then, slowly, they had built something better. And after that, that moment no longer held power over them.

Finally Eilidh unwrapped the package, folding the paper and tucking it away with her sketchbooks and scrap paper. She held the portfolio for a moment in her hands. Maybe she was part of the reason for her friend's grey hairs, she thought with a grin as she slid the portfolio onto her bookshelf, just as it was, with Johannes's note tucked inside.

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"That water gun is very sexy, and also bold."

"Well, you know what they say. 'Faint heart never' and all that shite." Eilidh grinned back at Horst and pointed the toy at him, an empty threat as all the water had already been used against other, less suspecting targets.

Eilidh could feel the night fading as she sat with him in under the trees, remnants of the last summer cookout dotting the grass around them. A few other friends remained as well, spread across the park in pairs and triads, their voices drifting across the cool night air, shining now and then with the laughter of people who needed to go to sleep but couldn't bear to say goodnight just yet.

Horst leaned against a gnarled old tree, and Eilidh leaned against him, enjoying the way the heat of her body radiated between them and into the earth beneath them. He would vanish soon, she knew, slipping away before the sun could make a proper appearance, and not for the first time Eilidh resented the necessity. They could never say goodbye in their own time.

It wasn't autumn yet, but it was coming. In a week or two the weather would grow unpredictable, and the rain would put a chill in the last warm nights of the season. These short, humid nights would dry out with the leaves, stretching themselves longer, stealing more of the daytime as winter approached. Eilidh had never loved the long nights of winter, but since she had met Horst, she had learned to appreciate them.

Unable to use the water gun on him for lack of ammunition, Eilidh opted to kiss Horst instead, twisting in his arms and pressing her lips to the corner of his mouth. "Help me clean up before you go?"

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[hello look who's logging into old accounts tonight :)]

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The intimacy of muses knowing each other's coffee order or how they take their tea

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important question who would eilidh's favourite people be from the of/md crew (including like, non-crew members, like Mary)

If it's pirate Eilidh she's mostly amused by/slightly contemptuous of Stede and his crew. Stede in particular she thinks it's going to get people killed because he wants an exciting hobby and she Does Not Like Him. By god would she love to be read to, though. Not that she'd ever say so except....maybe to Thomas, and it's more like giving an order if she does lol.

She does kind of like Lucius, I think, because he's very direct in his own way and stands up to bullies. He's a terrible pirate but she would prefer he not die and might, hypothetically, help him if he were at risk of dying and it wasn't too much out of her way.

Jim is the only pirate worth a damn, so Eilidh likes them fine, and she understands why they like Olu. But Olu himself reminds her of Gates and I think she's a bit nasty to him because of that. In a way that's more about her grief than it is about him, a "you're good and sensible and you're going to get killed because of it" way. (aren't you glad we made Eilidh and Hal friends?)

100% hangs out at Spanish Jackie's but Jackie is the only one she likes in there.

Izzy isn't even worth kicking overboard, he's worse than Stede's crew. Vicious little man who likes cruelty and takes his inadequacies out on others. Would happily stab him if provoked but he'd probably be gross about it and make her regret it.

How she feels about Blackbeard would vary A LOT depending on how much she really knew about him. In general she respects him as a pirate and enjoys his company if she has a chance to hang out with him, but the whole Stede thing is BAFFLING to her. Like, what is that? A fun diversion? A weakness for pretty things? What is even happening there. Also he takes way too much sugar in his tea and she is judging him for it.

She adores Fang and wants to steal him for her crew.

re: Mary:

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Eilidh is here to call Ames out for having a fuckin landline in his flat with an honest to god '90s-style answering machine next to it because he is an old man.

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"Excuse me, Miss? I think you dropped this."

Lace-gloved fingers hold out a crisp $20 note--- a study in white and black and green.

[not truly lost, but as good an excuse as any]

Lucy offered a small, curious smile, hoping to learn something about the dark-haired artist. She was one Lucy had seen before, whilst hunting visiting this particular café, but this was the first time she had found the courage to approach.

"I know I'd be upset if I lost so much."

{a little vampire AU. as a treat}

Eilidh blinked in surprise; she hadn't noticed dropping anything, but the way everything was shoved into her bag it was certainly possible.

"Oh, thanks for that!" she said, tucking the money into a little side pocket that it would definitely fall out of if she tried to pull her phone charger out. Smiling, she let her curious gaze take in the woman beside her. If she'd met her in a spookier location, in a dusty attic or a moonlit moor, she would not have seemed out of place with her luminously pale skin and old-fashioned gloves. Just the sort of ghost you'd expect in those places, Eilidh thought. But here, amid the bustle of people and with neon splashing in the puddles outside, she had more the look of a time traveler. No less fascinating.

"Can I thank you with a cup of tea? I was takin this to go, but I wouldnae mind an excuse to take a longer break. Coworker's drivin me mad."

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the inherent eroticism of helping your lover to dress

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by kat_in_nyc

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Anaïs Nin, The Early Diary of Anaïs Nin, 1923–1927

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If you hurt my brother there is a 100% chance I will come to your house and kill you.