Vernaldreams - You're My Mortal Flaw And I'm Your Fatal Sin

ughhhh an Avenger class is a class of their own where not many humans- barely anyone would be able to handle them as they are impossible and incompatible with pan human history and so are one of the hardest to handle. to even be able to summon an Extra class outside of the seven accepted seats is a feat on its own but to form a bond and a strong one at that is a different thing entirely. to gain comforting words from Avengers that eternally burn with vengeance and hatred, to gain companionship and trust from Avengers mercilessly crushed and betrayed by the world, deemed as threats for their retaliation, hunted down as beasts and chased out of their homes with their loved ones killed, those who have also died alone, suffering from such a painful betrayal even when they themselves were faithfull all the way to the end. to gain an Avenger's love and loyalty, weapons that howl and cry and knows unfathomable pain and sorrow, a Class that never forgets, grudges and hatred in which are ingrained into their very existence yet love and compassion is what allows them to persist and keep on burning. as summoning such flames means you yourself are far more removed from "humanity" than anyone else.

I feel like people characterize Enkidu as some kind of calm, gentle softie, but like me tell you this: Enkidu can be gentle and kind, but usually is Feral af. Enkidu with fight anyone who fucks with nature. Like illegal hunters.

Imagine you’re in an illegal hunting party hunting out of season, when this screeching humanoid figure descends on you from the treetops. They’re a blur as they move, disposing of your buddies before they can even aim their guns. One guy is knocked out, another’s arm is broken. You trip over a root as you try to flee. You’re a goner now. You cower in the pine needles.

The figure grins at you, blood in their pearly teeth, canines gleaming, too sharp to be human. Their green hair is knotted with branches and leaves, a sprig of some sort of red berries tucked just behind their ear. Their white robe stained with brown stains- blood or mud, you can’t discern- and grass stains.

They move at you, and you flinch backwards, eyes closed as you wait for the end. You dropped your gun long ago, and you can barely use the hunting knife strapped to your thigh. It would be useless against the creature before you now. You are at the mercy of this predator. You wait for the blows to come, for those too sharp teeth to tear into your throat, for those nails to peel back your eyelids and gouge out your eyes.

But it never comes.

Instead, the clink-clink-click of bullets being removed from a gun. You open your eye, warily. Will they shoot you with your own gun.

The figure has gathered your party’s guns, and is removing their bullets. Your packs are dragged forth by a deer to the figure. A flock of crows surrounds the figure. When a bullet is removed, one of the crows plucks it up and flies away.

You can’t move, can hardly breathe, as you watch them. One movement, one breath, could spell your end.

The guns are empty now, and hey turn to the packs. Bullets are disposed of, glittering in crow claws as they fly away. Your food and water bottles are placed aside, and the figure puts your map and compass back in your bag. A squirrel runs off with a granola bar.

They look you in the eye, and you know that they could have killed you at anytime, they knew you were watching. But they didn’t.

They toss your gun at your feet, empty, and throw your much lighter pack back at you. You barely catch it. They turn to leave.

“Why?” You choke out through your terror.

The figure pauses, and looks back at you.

“Because you tried to steal from nature.” They say simply, as if it were obvious.

You blink. They’re at your throat, too sharp teeth glittering in a bared smile and nails digging at your neck.

“And if you ever try to steal from nature again, I won’t be as nice.”

You can’t help it, you black out.

When you wake, you find yourself outside a ranger station, tied up. You can feel your companions tied up next to you. You struggle to free yourself, but then you see them, in the tree line. The figure smiles.

“I’d like Enkidu to tease me cruelly” - that kinda thing

*after hitting breaking point and snapped at both Gilgamesh*

Gudako: I scared them, didn’t I?

Enkidu: They’re terrified of you.

Gudako: *smiling* That makes me so happy.

Guda is honestly such a chaotic force of nature.

Servants are fully defined by their legends and interpretations. Vlad is a good example, since more people know him as the monster Dracula over the ruler of Wallachia, and as a result manisfests more as a vampire because of it. Servants are temporary existances created from expectation to serve as tools. Servants, Mages and even the Throne all agree to this. Servants aren’t people, they can’t be people because they are Heroes, they can’t be free.

And Guda steps all over that.

Guda takes these echoes of people and helps them become complete, lets them step out of their legends and enjoy new things that they couldn’t because they were always constrained by their duty.

And honestly, that’s probably what Romani saw in them. Why Romani believed so much that Guda would be able to save the world. Because Guda is a simple, pure hearted person that is able to bring out the best in others. Someone able to unite servants not because the mission was so important, but because the servants found the Master important. You can even see this in the Solomon raid cutscenes, where almost all the servants came to help solely because they liked you enough to do it.

Guda humanizes their servants, frees them to be more than just legends, and that’s why they can help you save the world against Goetia. Because the future could only be made by human hands.

Hello! May I request Enkidu from fgo x fem!master reader who tries hard to convince them that they're a human - not just a doll or a weapon, but a person - and they are so worthy of love (and please love yourself and let me love you already)? From whose perspective is totally up to your inspiration. Fluff or hurt/comfort both work

Hi, hi, this took like a super duper long time, sorry for that! I'm not very sure if this is what you wanted, but here goes nothing.

Masterpost

Human or weapon?

Enkidu is a weapon, nothing but a weapon. He knows and has accepted that a long time ago. He has no likes nor dislikes, no dreams nor hopes. It does not change even when the Babylonia Empire no longer stands, when the Mesopotamia gods are no more.

Even so, the Master that summoned him is so very kind. She constantly looks for him, asking for his likes and dislikes. When he retorts that he is a weapon, that he has no uses for likes and dislikes, she merely smiles.

His Master says that since he has no likes nor dislikes, they should find some for him instead so she brings him what she likes and watches his reaction. When she starts to run out of things that she likes, he is both grateful and not.

He is determined not to succumb, to remain the weapon that he is and will always be and yet, he fails. The gods would laugh at him if they can see him now, a weapon of the gods, and yet he falls to a single human’s determination.

He continues to repeat that he has no likes nor dislikes, but he cannot help but wonder who he is trying to convince, his Master or himself? Surely himself, because he likes the way his Master smiles, brighter than the sun, he likes it when she laughs, for it is more melodious than a harp, he likes it when she looks for him, trying to get him to try something new in her never-ending quest to get him to finally admit that he likes something.

He dislikes it when she is not by his side, when she spends time with people that aren’t him, when she graces her smile to someone that isn’t him, when she laughs in the company of people that aren’t him. He dislikes it when she is sad, the days that her smiles and laughter does not come as easily as they usually do.

Maybe one day, he will finally confess that to her that she has changed him, for because of her, he now has likes and dislikes.

Sparkle of life

“I make sure of your end.”

→rough sketch

hope is a skill