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OOC; SEMI HIATUS NOTICE

First of all, I am really sorry about this.

Secondly -- and knowing me, I should have seen this coming -- I’ve lost a lot of my muse for Noctis in favor of Ardyn ( @sineatcr ). Not to say Noctis is completely gone, just...a lot quieter. So consider this a note to say that my time on this blog is going to be lessened by quite a bit for a while, and if you need me I’ll 100% be on my Ardyn.

I won’t be entirely gone!!! I’ll pop in to check replies and reblog things every so often so the blog doesn’t die, but if you want to RP with me, come hit me up at @sineatcr or on my OC sideblogs -- @arxgoetia and @kiinnabari -- because they’re linked to both here and Ardyn. :)

I love you guys!!!

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This is going to be my senior quote

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Howling ghost - they reappear In mountains that are stacked with fear But you’re a king and I’m a lionheart. And in the sea that’s painted black, Creatures lurk below the deck But you’re a king and I’m a lionheart

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OOC; OFFLINE

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OOC; OFFLINE

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etosvitri:

“They’re called aetherytes,” he explains as he leads Noctis to the porter and the chocobos they’ll be renting. “They’re for travel. You attune your own aether to the crystal, and then it acts as a beacon on the Lifestream, something for you to aim yourself at when casting spells like Return or Teleport. Most large settlements have a crystal like that one, but the citystates also boast their own aethernets–smaller crystals that allow quick travel within a city itself. It’s really very convenient. There’s only one crystal in your world?”

Tallyn takes the reins of the bird the porter brought him, and for good measure takes the reins of the second bird as well. “Now, do you have chocobos on your world, or will this be a totally new experience?” He prays for the former; his own chocobo experience is limited, and he fears he’s not a good teacher.

“We’re heading due east, through the valley into eastern Thanalan,” he says, gesturing towards the large rock formation in the Clutch’s center. “From there the chocobos will take us to Drybone and we’ll have to make our way on foot. If your leg starts to bother you on the way, don’t hesitate to say so.”

“Aetherytes?” He repeats. “For...travel? Wow, that’s actually kind of cool. We don’t really have magic like that as a normal thing on my world.” No, that was really cool. An aethernet in Insomnia would have been killer. No worrying about traffic or crowded street or sidewalks, no rushing to get somewhere...just find a little crystal, poof, you’re there. And goddamn, would it have made getting to Altissia a lot easier.

“Yeah, only one,” he says. “My world’s actually...a lot higher tech than this one in general, so it’s been weird. You don’t have a lot of stuff I’m used to, but at the same time, it’s still familiar enough to be okay.” He grins. “Chocobos, for one. We definitely have chocobos. I used to have one, kind of?” It had belonged to Wiz’s, but...he considered the guy his.

He nods along with the directions Tallyn gives them, mounting the bird easily and patting it on the head. Good bird, nice bird. The saddle and reins are familiar, and he has a jolt of grief again at the thought of how Prompto would love to know chocobos were a constant. He swallows it back, though, shaking his head. “This place is pretty amazing looking, though, not gonna lie. Thanalan, right? It’s beautiful. Really hot and making me regret wearing so much black, but beautiful.” Then again, Leide had been just as bad. Not quite as pretty, though. (Another sad thought that Prompto would have shit himself at all the photo opportunities, but again he pushes it aside.)

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etosvitri:

“You know, actually, I would.”

Tallyn stops just short of the station’s entrance and waits for Noctis to have his fill of staring at the aetheryte. The look of disbelief on his face is too familiar, Tallyn having worn one much like it upon his arrival on Eorzea’s shores. Aether travel was a specialty of the Northern continents–one of many his own people had never quite managed to grasp.

“A year ago, I might’ve thought you mad,” he says. “But, well, things have changed since then.” Too many things, he thinks tiredly, but those aren’t for dwelling on now. Not when he’s supposed to be helping someone.

“I take it your world is quite different?” he asks, fishing in his pocket for the handful of gil he hopes is there (it is, and it looks to be enough, thank the Twelve). “Judging by how you were staring at the crystal.”

“Oh, thank god,” he says with a relieved laugh, shaking his head. He’s more than a little grateful he doesn’t have to go through the whole complicated mess of explaining Eos and the Astrals and everything else, though he’ll probably have to answer questions, anyway. Their worlds are too different. But at least Tallyn knows there are other worlds. That’s a good start.

He watches him fish for the gil, noting it does look different from the stuff in his pockets -- more coins than bills -- and figuring that half his money will be useless anyway. Damn. And there’s no currency exchange, obviously. 

“Yeah,” he says. “There’s only one crystal in my world, and it’s pretty special. It’s...kinda weird to see a lot of them just floating around like an everyday thing. What do they do?” He watches it spin slowly in place, curious. “The one on my world was kind of...” He gestures vaguely. “Big, important, world-saving thing the Lucian kings were supposed to protect.”

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technochocobro:

NH-01987 frowned at the prince and his retainers in turn. First they’d wanted him dead and now they were… what? Performing first aid and protecting him from the sun? Were these Lucians insane? If they wanted to interrogate him for information, he understood the need for first aid. It wouldn’t do them any good for their prisoner to bleed out before they got whatever answers they wanted. But why be so kind about it? Why keep up this ruse?

Silent still, the trooper took the offered bottle. He didn’t miss the way Ignis’s eyes flicked to the exposed barcode on his wrist and then to the crook of his elbow and the plain evidence of years of needle pricks that gathered there. NH-01987 ignored the gaze in favor of trying to open the bottle. He pushed at the cap to see if it was a pressure release. Nope. He pulled at it next. No, again. Another tug and the plastic shifted to the left. Ah, so it was meant to be twisted off. He spun the cap around a couple times until it fell free. He sniffed the water first but couldn’t detect any poisons by scent alone and the water looked clear, but it was also easy enough to dissolve a drug so it couldn’t be spotted by sight either.

“Just water,” Ignis assured pragmatically, still focused on stitching up the trooper’s side. “A reused bottle but plain water all the same. If you’d rather not–”

NH-01987 immediately chugged down the bottle. He coughed a little, not used to so much water at once, but he didn’t want it taken away. It didn’t taste poisoned either. Was it really just plain water? These guys were horrible at keeping a hostage. He lowered his head, watching Ignis stitch him up. No matter the pinching and pulling, NH-01987 gave no sign of the pain it caused. Ignis was much more delicate with the task than any medic the trooper had dealt with before.

Oh, holy shit, the poor guy has a barcode. The tiny asshole part of him wonders what would happen if you scanned it with a supermarker scanner, but he kicks that part in the shin and tells it to shut up. That’s rude. Vaguely funny in a horrible way, but mostly rude. The needle marks are more worthy of attention, anyway, and his face scrunches up in worry and concern. 

And boy, does he know that sort of quick ‘don’t take it away’ chug. He’s done with soda before, though in his situation it was more just to spite Ignis before his soda can could be confiscated.

This is...weird. He can’t even begin to identify with anything this guy’s been through, but he feels awful for him all the same. He doesn’t even react to Ignis stitching the would, and Noctis can’t even watch that. Medical stuff really gets to him, but the MT isn’t even twitching.

“Um,” he begins finally. “NH...something?” He can barely remember the numbers, and he doesn’t want to call him that anyway. At least using just the letters feels more like a nickname. It’s...tolerable. 

“Are you hungry or anything?” He asks. “Or d’you want something else besides water?” He’s not sure what they can do or what he can have, but he feels really shitty just sitting here. Ignis is handling the first aid, and Gladio was doing Shield stuff all the time, and Noctis feels...a little useless. He wants to do something.

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etosvitri:

“Then I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but we’ll have to walk at least part of the way.  The chocobo porter in Black Brush will only take us as far as Camp Drybone.”  He hopes there’s enough gil in his pockets to cover himself and Noctis; by the look of the man, Tallyn doesn’t think he has a single coin to his name, but they can figure that out when they get there.

“It’s this way,” he says, nodding towards the station’s aetheryte just over the horizon before starting to walk.  “Do you mind if I ask where you’re from?  I’ve never seen a magic that can conjure real objects from nowhere.”

“That basically tells me nothing, but nah, I don’t mind a little walking. It’s my leg that starts complaining.” He shrugs; the wonderful world of having an old injury, right? But hey, chocobos are a thing! And porters? Man, he likes the sound of that. It probably costs money, though, doesn’t it? He thinks he has some gil in his wallet, still...boy, does he hope this place uses gil, too. Being broke is never fun, and he doesn’t want to impose on anyone. Eventually he’ll have to ask how one goes about making money around here, but he’s pretty sure it’ll be similar to hunting back home, if all the monsters around here are any indication.

He follows Tallyn towards the camp -- it looks like a very low-tech haven, now that he’s getting a better look. Some buildings, a defunct train track, a bunch of people milling about and what looks like a few guards...some weird familiarity is good, even though he can’t help but stare openly at the giant-ass crystal just floating there. Are they that common here? Holy shit. “Would you believe me if I said I’m not exactly from, uh--” What’s the place called again? “--Hydaelyn?” He hopes he doesn’t sound crazy. 

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“Arcane...geometries?” He asks, confused. “That’s...so it’s like magic math? I don’t think I’d be able to do that.” He sucks at math. Not that he minds that that much, but damn, to think that math here can make you little cute summon things. “The gemstones and aether make sense, though. Sort of.” Dino’s gemstone stuff had taught him a little about that, so it made a weird kind of sense that it worked here, too.

He sighs. “I hope so, too,” he says quietly. “I miss my friends.” And moreover, they think he’s dead, which...sucks worse. Maybe he is dead. He’s still not sure about that, but he doesn’t feel dead. That really doesn’t prove anything, though, because the gods are weird. And assholes, they’re also definitely assholes. Man, he feels weird about being so bitter, but god, is he bitter. Stupid gods. Stupid Bahamut. Stupid mom crystal lady thing. This is totally not fair.

He followed her up and outside, curious and wanting to see her carbuncle -- he missed his buddy a lot, and though this one was obviously very different, he definitely wanted to see it anyway. Would it look like the one he knew? Or would it be something else entirely? His question was answered pretty quickly when she opened her spellbook, and he gasped aloud as the little green -- emerald -- summon flipped itself into being. 

“It-- it’s adorable,” he said, kneeling down to pet it. “It looks a lot like the one I knew, only...sparklier, I think?” Well, that and the jewel on its head was a little bigger and smoother, less like a horn. “Hey, little guy.” 

Alisaie looked at Noctis in surprise. Only two bloodlines able to use magic? That was mind-boggling for her. If she was unable to use her magic… she wouldn’t be herself. She snapped out if it and nodded as he mentioned carbuncle. A similar question as to how they differ came to her mind as well. “A little spirit?” She echoed. “Well, our carbuncles are created through arcane geometrics, and combining a gemstone with aether. After that, we can call them whenever we wish, so long as we do everything correctly.”

When the man spoke the bit about his arrival, Alisaie nodded. “…I know not for certain whether my experience was ordained by the gods or the enemy, but I’ve a mind to believe it was the latter. I was given no choice nor direction. …My return was due to the kindness of others, and perhaps luck. I pray you will get to return as well.”

Well, she didn’t eat much of the food that was brought to her but, she did finish a cup of tea that had already been poured. So, up she stood and while leaving the book she had been reading, Alisaie instead grabbed onto her grimoire. “For the moment, I’m sure you’re curious about my world’s carbuncles. If you’d like, I wouldn’t mind showing the two that I have,” she offered. With a motion to follow, Alisaie only looked back to see if Noctis did so before continuing to walk out. It wasn’t all that long before they got outside the city and she turned to face the displaced man. Opening her book to the correct page, she began the spell to summon the first carbuncle she and many others learned - emerald. It wasn’t long before the glittering creature appeared from thin air in a front flip and landed on the ground.

“This is an emerald carbuncle. Most Arcanists learn how to create them first,” she explained.

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technochocobro:

Ignis and Gladio spoke in hushed voices as they followed Noct to the Regalia, be it at a much slower pace so as not to jar the MT any further. But nothing roused the trooper. That worried Ignis; he’d expected at least some kind of reaction. He found himself hoping the the young man was human enough to treat. It would break his prince’s heart if he couldn’t help the trooper; there was no question about that. Noct seemed so invested in this, more passionate than Ignis had seen him in a while. 

Gladio insisted that he be in the back with the MT, though none of them truly expected NH-01987 to suddenly spring up and attack. All he had to do was keep pressure on the wound, easy enough. Ignis took a moment to look over their map and then decided on the Cauthess rest area as their best option. It hosted a caravan and was close to the Crow’s Nest diner should they need the food.

NH-01987 woke later to the tug of needle and thread through his skin. Defensive training kicked in immediately and the trooper jerked backward, tearing the brand new, still unfinished stitches. His armor was gone. His armor– How did– He pressed his hands over the open wound, red eyes landing on Ignis. Oh… that was right. They’d refused to kill him.

“Now honestly,” Ignis tutted. “You’re only creating a need for more stitches.” Seeing the gears turning in the MT’s head, Ignis gestured to the inside of the caravan, windows as covered as they could be for the impending rising sun. “You’re safe. If you’d please, scoot back here and I’ll finish up.”

NH-01987 followed the order without hesitation. He sat straight, leaning slightly to expose his bare side to Ignis. When the needle set to work again, the trooper made no indication he felt anything, though Ignis knew it was extremely uncomfortable.

Noctis had spent the last several hours pacing as best he could in the little caravan. At least Gladio had decided to give him a break? That was good. He would have been even more anxious and high-strung if he was annoyed at his Shield on top of all this. 

What kind of an Empire was this that made a normal guy -- and after they’d taken off his armor, he was pretty much normal, totally physically human -- think he was some kind of machine? Never even giving him a real name, making him like...like this? It was horrific. Like-- good god, he’d thought the Empire was bad enough as it was. Now, though, now it was worse. 

When the blond MT wakes up, Noctis moves over to his side, trying to look reassuring. “It’s okay,” he reassures him. “Ignis is good at his kind of thing. He’s basically taken care of me for, like, ever.” Sometimes he thinks Ignis is basically his mom, with how much he helped raise him. He shifts awkwardly, and then holds out a water bottle. “Here,” he says. “It’s just water, it should be okay.”

He didn’t know a lot about MTs, or how human or inhuman the poor guy was. He knew healing magic and stuff hurt him, and light, too -- he wonders if the other boy can eat. He hopes so. The less human stuff he can do, the angrier Noctis is going to be at the Empire. “It’s gonna be okay,” he adds, reassuring. “You’re safe here with us. It’s okay.”

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reiivusu:

       WHILE NOCTIS TALKS, RAVUS is silent, watching him and staying still under the blanket of his coat. At first, he isn’t sure what to say. If Noctis had stayed to check on him, then… yes, perhaps Ardyn would have left damn well enough alone - or not, as would have been more likely. Looking back, Ravus could see just how much of a pawn he had been. And how blind.

“For what it’s worth, it may have been better that you didn’t linger.” He lifts his shoulders in a vague shrug, brushing some of his hair from his eyes. “I know not how long it was between you leaving and Ardyn returning, but I doubt it was long. You had more important things on your mind. … so there is no need to apologise.

“And for whatever else it is worth, I wasn’t dead.” Only then does Ravus move, stretching out in his claimed chair and holding his coat over his chest. “I confronted Iedolas. He summoned daemons and attacked me, so I was forced to use your father’s sword. One of his attacks threw me over the balcony. That, the energy the sword took, and Ardyn’s own attack left me close enough to dead that I can’t fault you for assuming that I was.

“I remember little of the final confrontation with you.” Ravus clears his throat, head turning just enough to see Noctis through his hair. “Truth be told, I had little control over my body by that point. Whatever Ardyn did to me, the daemon instincts were far more in control than my own. Had you not defended yourself, I doubt you would have survived to find the Crystal. None of you would have.”

And now Ravus paused, taking a deep breath. He had never spoken to Noctis for so long, not even when they had both last been in Tenebrae. It feels strange enough for himself, let alone how Noctis must feel about it. But this is a conversation they both need, no matter how hard it is.

He watches Ravus shift with his coat over him like a blanket and is...somewhat gratified to know he’s not the only one who can get comfortable or sleep in weird places. But that’s just a thought to distract him from what the man is saying, because he still feels guilty and awkward about everything. 

“I wouldn’t have wanted to run into Ardyn,” he admits, though talking about the man brings up mixed feelings. He hates the guy for everything he put them all through, for all the people he hurt, but at the same time, he pities him. Everything the guy had gone through...no wonder he’d gone crazy. At least he was at peace now, yeah? “He found me anyway, though...that place was like a rat maze and he was the one controlling it.” He grimaces a little, looking away.

Hearing that Ravus had confronted Iedolas made him smile briefly, though. “S’okay,” he says absently. “You using my dad’s sword, I mean. I doubt he’d mind, and I know I don’t.” If Ravus had needed it to protect himself from daemons, then yeah. He can’t fault that. He’d let Prompto and the others use his Royal Arms before, too. It was okay. No big deal.

“It wasn’t...” He trails off. “I’m glad you survived it, though,” he says, a little lamely. “I’m glad everyone got out of the base okay. It was probably worse leaving, and with what happened to me...” He can’t imagine how hard it was for the others to have to fight their way out with an injured Ravus while reeling from losing Noctis on top of that.

He lets out a breath of his own, stretching out his bad leg and pulling the good one close to his chest and resting his chin on it. He’s never going to be good with heavy conversations, is he? But this is one that has to happen, isn’t it?

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technochocobro:

For a brief moment, Prompto thought he heard something a little off in his friend’s tone, but the distraction of food was too promising and his grumbling stomach was too much to ignore. Whatever it had been, Noct was probably just as tired and hungry as the rest of them. So while Ignis spoke with Cindy and an older dude (who may have been short but also looked scary enough that Prompto was sure the guy could kick somebody’s head clean off their shoulders) and Gladio inspected a weapons vendor (and Prompto was still trying to figure out why), the blond of the quartet was more than happy to coerce Noct to the safety of a diner.

“Yes!” Prompto whisper-shouted. “I’ve got a rumbly in my tummy only fries will fix.” He didn’t even know if the place offered fries. What kind of diner didn’t offer fries? “Noct!” He grabbed his friend’s arm just outside the doors, fixing him with a wide-eyed stare as if this were the most dire situation in the whole world. “What if they don’t have fries?” He whispered the question and then almost immediately let go of Noct’s arm and groaned loudly, spinning on his heel. “One way to find out!”

He practically charged through the doors, cheering a bright good morning to the grand total of three people in the diner. The tall and friendly looking man behind the counter returned the greeting, albeit much more calmly. Prompto figured he was used to all kinds of different people passing through his place, an exuberant blond couldn’t be too out of place. Prompto knew how to make first impressions, and knew how important they were when one was spending his entire life trying to be the exact opposite of what he was born to be. If he fiddled with the leather straps around his wrist behind his back, it was subtle enough that no one would think twice of it.

“Alright, here’s the deal.” Prompto flopped himself onto one of the bar stools, leaning on the counter. “My buddy and I are dying and the only way to save our lives is fries. So please tell me you’re our savior.”

“Name’s Takka,” the man replied with a chuckle. “And you boys won’t be dyin’ today.”

“Yes!” Prompto grinned to Noct and waggled his fingers as if producing magic. “Fries.”

Noctis starts laughing when Prompto grabs his arm. “I think literally everywhere in every diner in existence serves fries,” he tells his friend seriously. “It’s probably against the law to not have fries or something.” If he remembers right, he’s mostly right, but still.

He trails after Prompto, lost in thought again -- he never though he’d be glad for the Regalia breaking down, but he is. He really needed a chance to breathe. Coming back, starting over...if things had gone so fast the first time around, he’d never have had a chance to really process shit this time. But the Regalia stalled, and they’ll have a day or so to wait to get on the road. So Noctis has time to get his shit together. Thank god.

Prompto fidgets with his wristband, and before, Noctis would just write it off as a nervous habit and never think twice, but now? Now he knows exactly what’s underneath the leather strap and why the blond is so anxious about it. He wishes he could preempt a lot of his worry, grab him by the shoulders and shake him a little, tell him that he doesn’t give a shit where he’s from or whatever else. He’s Prompto and always will be, one of the only things that’s going to keep him going this time. 

He perches on the stool next to Prompto’s, waving slightly at Takka. Man, it’s good to see him again, too. He hadn’t even really known what happened to him after the ten years, and no one had said. So it’s good to see him. Good to see everyone in Hammerhead, honestly.

He grins back. “Fries,” he repeats, shifting to look at the menu even though he’s seen it a dozen times. “Fries and soda, too. Officially our hero.”

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OOC;

to let people know that yes i am finally working on replies, and to keep track of how many I’ve got (and to let people know that i’m dropping a couple threads i’ve just taken too long in getting to, and for those people whose threads i have dropped, we can pick right up with another one any time!!)

i am going to be queuing replies for: @technochocobro (two of ‘em), @reiivusu, and @alisaie-leveilleur :) anyone else is either still in drafts for when i have more brain, or I dropped them (and again i am so sorry, but we can 100% start another one if you’d like)

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Noctis, impending death, and depression:

There are some things I want to address that I see people on twitter talking about a lot lately that are really frustrating me.

One thing I see over and over is about how “Noctis didn’t know he was going to die!” and “If he did, (if Luna and his father told him the truth, etc.) he would’ve shut down mentally!!” …. don’t you realize that he already has?

First of all, we have to address that Noctis is not a “normal boy” and will not react to things as a normal person. He is royalty, and that will always affect how he reacts to certain things no matter how much his father tried to get him to feel like he was just a normal kid. That’s another long, complicated post in and of itself so I’ll just leave it there. 

What people are forgetting is that Noctis absolutely knows he’s going to die. While it may not be the revelation of Bahamut, or even outright directly stated this is what he knows, even by the timeline of the 4th episode of Brotherhood that directly has him facing this, he knows he is doomed to die and so do his friends. That episode is actually one of the most important parts of Noctis’ characterization the development team gave us as far as I’m concerned.  

On the surface, that episode is about Noctis coming to terms with his father’s failing health and Ignis trying to settle into his more adult role of advisor. Okay, but why is Noctis’ father’s health failing? Because of the ring of the Lucii. Because of the very mark of being a Lucian king requiring his life-force in return for protecting his people. The Citadel interior that Noctis grew up in, is covered in sayings etched into gold and marble about their ‘martyr’ kings.(visible at the top of the 1st image) Noctis has known since as long as he could read, that he is not going to live a natural life or die of old age. While this isn’t the same as being told what Bahamut told him at the end, he has still had to live with not only the pain of watching his father breaking down and dying before his eyes, but with the fact that when his dad’s body gives out—he is next.

“He would shut down mentally!” – back to this

Yes. Seeing your entire retinue (caretakers and guards) murdered bloodily by a huge 2-story tall monster at the tender age of 7-8? Irrevocably traumatic. Knowing you’re going to die unnaturally, (before your time, etc.) traumatic. Most people do shut down mentally to some extent when they are given that kind of prognosis. 

Now go back to that 4th episode of Brotherhood and look at Noctis’ habits. Nothing makes me more furious, as someone who suffers from trauma and mental illness and understands firsthand—when people look at that episode and call Noctis a brat, or worse ��uwu oh boys are so messy.’ No. That is not the living space of a neurotypical person, spoiled rotten or not. He is barely functioning, barely able to keep up appearances enough to keep going to school while his mental health deteriorates. So that statement is both correct and not—any person would become unstable at the realization that they’re dying. The thing is… no one really noticed or tried to help Noctis with those things…. even though his friends obviously have the same information that he does. His obvious symptoms of mental illness were treated as a source of irritation and nothing more.  

I look at the state of Noctis’ apartment and the attention to detail in the animation always moves me. This is more of a personal analysis, but I hope it’s at least beneficial to someone. There is trash everywhere. That’s not normal, that’s not just ‘haha messy teenager.’ That is a symptom that often accompanies the apathy and lethargy of severe depression. This episode moves me to tears nearly every time I watch it if only because it reminds me very keenly of a time in my own life before my family had been unwilling to get me treatment for my depression, when I could not function at all. I lived like this. I did not want to.But it happened anyway.. The thing that stands out to me the most is that there are countless convenience store bags, but they’re full—as if Noctis knew he needed to try to pick up after himself, but just couldn’t get past stuffing whatever debris was around him into the bag he’d brought it in with. I’ve been there. Later on, it’s stated in-game that he had a job as a part-time cook after high school, likely for life experience, or for the sake of being among the common people. It’s not that Noctis can’t cook. It’s that he doesn’t have the energy or the attention span not to scorch everything, which is more or less a key plot point of episode 4 of Brotherhood. While the others are frustrated with him for not functioning on their level, he is doing as much as he can. That’s the hardest thing with diseases like depression—you can be giving your all, and because it’s not the same as what a healthy person can do, you’ll always be called lazy and ineffective.  

To me more and more, Final Fantasy XV has become a metaphor for how much a person who is hurting and desperately trying to carry on like they’re not can become reticent and unable to express those feelings they’re keeping buried when they don’t get the proper help they need. It happens in real life all of the time: Noctis’ friends love him and want to help him—but they don’t know how.  

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HEY ALL, GUESS WHO ACTUALLY DID MOVE TO A MAIN  BLOG!! If you guessed me, then, grats, you win the prize. What’s the prize? A 2000+ year old trash can immortal with depression, lots of issues, and a vendetta against the gods. Please like/reblog this post for me? Thanks!

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beans

“Oh, come on, who told everyone about the beans thing?” Pouts.