#Ser Noudenet

[lyrieuxsicons]

Who? // : Ser Noudenet de Jaimberd From? // : Final Fantasy XIV Amount? // : 374 Size? // : 100 x100 px

DOWNLOAD LINK.

If you enjoyed or have used these icons, please consider donating to my KoFi!

[lunarosewood23]

FFXIVWrite2023 Prompt 2: Bark

Set a little after 3.0 in the Forelands. Raven laments over her talons and remembers those lost.

CW: Mentions of Death, Mourning

Word Count: 673

~~~

It had been harder to hold pens and other writing instruments since her inheritance awakened.

Raven stared down at the black talons that extended from her fingers, her once blunt nails that she would bite on when anxious turned into long claws, a permanent mark of what Nidhogg’s blood had done to her. She couldn’t really make a proper fist, though she damn well tried on several occasions, and she needed to learn how to get used to a pen in her hand again.

Still, Raven felt a need to make it to where those lost on Azys Lla were remembered. Their names etched into something to signify that they were people who were loved and were mourned.

So she went out hunting and in addition to her meal for the night she found a huge piece of bark that had come off of a tree and began to carve their names into the surface. It would be crude and ugly, but she felt as though she needed to preserve their names. Preserve them as people, not tools. She felt tears begin to sting in her eyes as she used her talons as her quill, what she knew of them sprung to the forefront of her mind.

Ignasse de Vesnaint - A dragoon, though she wasn’t sure of much else about him other than he and Ser Vellguine were close.

Vellguine de Bourbagne - The oldest among them. Silent, but kind.

Hermenost de la Treaumaille - A man of deep faith and a mage who passed along to her how to imbue magic into weapons as he did with his battleaxe.

Grinnaux de Dzemael - Brutish arsehole who bullied her when she was small, but Raven knew that his fate wasn’t one he deserved. 

Paulecrain de Fanouilley - Raven didn’t know much about him, other than that he was a former knight of House Fortemps that had been dismissed, and that he seemed close with Grinnaux.

Noudenet de Jaimberd - A bookish sort who liked magic. He seemed to be interested in Mingxia’s, and to some extent her own.

Haumeric de Peulagnon - Coronette’s dearest and the one who taught Mingxia Coerthan ice conjury. She remembered how Coronette had passed Serella her sword to do a blow for her when she was told of his fate.

Adelphel de Chevraudan - A notorious flirt and one of the fastest swordsmen she’d ever seen. She remembered the family of older sisters he was leaving behind and her heart squeezed.

Janlenoux de Courcillant - Always seen with Adelphel, the moon to Adelphel’s sun. And a wonderful culinarian. Were he not on duty he would be volunteering in her mama’s kitchen.

Guerrique de Montrohain - A sweet one, if a bit loud. A soft-spoken Raen named Yitsuge liked him. One of Zephirin’s most loyal, and to her knowledge they were close friends.

Zephirin de Valhourdin - Raven knew him to be a noble and just soul. Mingxia’s sister Kaia was in love with him and he loved her. She remembered having a small crush on him as a teen, but he was focused on his own goals to notice her.

Charibert de Leusignac Cross - Raven let out a sob as she wrote the name of her brother. She lost him once already when she was seven summers, and then she hadn’t seen or heard from him for a score. And of course the fates would be cruel to her by giving him back only to take him away again. The one who would sit and teach her words and scripture and answer her questions about the faith. She dragged her talon across his surname and replaced it with her own. Even though he was never formally adopted, he was a Cross, and damn anyone who would try arguing that. She knew he did horrible things, but she wanted to believe there was more to it than pure cruelty. Their mama taught them all better than that.

She set the bark aside as she hugged her knees, weeping for them, as she knew their families would be back home.

[ffxivxd]

Ser Noudenet de Jaimberd, also known as Noudenet the Wise, believed magic was the Fury's greatest blessing and thus judged people by their arcane aptitude. Thus, he critiqued Ser Haumeric while respected Ser Charibert.

[witchofthescions]

The first four were easy enough to dispatch. Gohnoh'a focused his attention on the foes he knew: the Warriors of Darkness. Cress assisted him, while Lyse assisted Erna and Fray in taking down Sers Janlenoux and Adelphel. Lenar healed and assisted where he could, his job honestly made considerably easier with the three knights leading the way and keeping all attention focused on them.

Next came Ser Haumeric, Ser Charibert, and Ser Noudenet. Ernastral took special glee in tackling Charibert again.

The wave after was the largest yet. Clearly, Myste was panicking now, hoping to overwhelm them with numbers. Ser Grinnaux, Ser Hermenost, Ser Guerrique, Ser Ignasse (who had been the first shade he conjured way back when), Ser Paulecrain, and two more of the Warriors of Darkness: Naillebert and J'rhoomale. Even then, they proved no match for the Warrior of Light and her friends.

The next two memories she dragged up were the Very Reverend Archimandrite Ser Zephirin, and the leader of the Warriors of Darkness, Ardbert.

"Hey look who it is, Lenar! It's our old 'pal' Zephirin—"

Without a word, Lenar drew his sword and rushed at Zephirin, attacking with the same ferocity and savagery as he had the first time around. Ernastral and Fray stared in shocked silence.

"...Well. Guess he's still got a grudge."

Fray and Ernastral went to back Lenar, while Lyse switched her attention to the remaining Warrior of Darkness. With their healer preoccupied with killing instead of healing, they needed to end this fight as quickly as possible.

Myste, of course, had no intentions of going quietly. She would do anything, anything to stop them from interfering. But she really only had one trick up her sleeve...

From the shadows, she drew forth two more shades. Two more departed loved ones, ever on their minds. Haurchefant, the valiant knight that Zephirin callously slew in front of Ernastral, Lenar, and Cress, and Yda Hext, older sister of Lyse Hext, who died helping her countrymen.

Lyse noticed her sister first. She blinked, stopping in her tracks. "Yda?!"

Her momentary distraction was enough for Ardbert to get the drop on her, swatting her away with his axe. Gohnoh'a and Cress turned to this newcomer, both of them momentarily caught off-guard by her appearance. She drew her weapons, a pair of darksteel knuckles befitting her status as a pugilist. Gohnoh'a moved to position himself between her and the others, ready to defend them.

Yda leapt over them... and landed a punch on the Warrior of Darkness that sent him sprawling. Lyse got to her feet, staring in shock.

"Yda?"

Yda turned to her sister, an all too familiar smile on her face. "Come on, Lyse! Let's show them what we're made of!"

Haurchefant rushed Ser Zephirin, raising his shield and planting himself between the Archimandrite and his beloved friends. Just as he had once before.

"Fear not, my friends!" Haurchefant said, as cheerful as always. "You shall not face this foe alone!"

"...Nor shall you." Lenar rushed in and landed a hit between plates of Ser Zephirin's armor while he was preoccupied with Haurchefant. The shade staggered back, clutching at the injury.

"N-No, wait!" Myste said. "This isn't... you're not supposed to..."

"Perhaps you shouldn't have dragged up people's fond memories," Fray said. "Stick to enemies next time."

"I... I can't... I can only work with what I'm given," Myste muttered.

"...And you have a front row seat to the inner workings of only one person here," Fray murmured, piecing things together. "Of course."

With the extra help from the friendly shades, they made short work of Zephirin and Ardbert. At last, the only one left was Myste. Erna approached the child, readying her blade for what she knew must be done.

"No... No! I can't... I won't..."

One last shade. One last bit of "help," as she promised.

One last reunion.

The shade this time was a Roegadyn man, broad shouldered and, perhaps, a bit taller than even an average sized Roegadyn. As if drawn from the memories of a child not yet fully grown, who perceived him as larger than life. Clad in the armor of a dragoon, with a spear strapped to his back, red hair arranged in short braids.

And his features obscured by a bright light.

The previously talkative Fray could do no more than utter a quiet "oh."

"A... One of the Warriors of Light from Cartenau?" Lyse's gaze flicked to Ernastral. "You knew one of them?!"

"This is a truth I... we... never wished to face," Myste said. "No matter how hard we try, we can't recall his face. We can't recall his voice. These memories have been stolen from us... and no one can fill in the gaps. He is gone... he is gone... he is GONE! And we can never be made whole!"

Myste's hands curled into fists, fingers digging into her hair.

"Is this the fate that awaits us? To be used, to sacrifice, to be thrown away and forgotten when we are no longer of use?"

"He hasn't been forgotten!" Lyse said. "He'll never be forgotten, not while we're still here. Not while there's still people left to tell the story." Lyse turned to Erna. "And that goes double for you! Just look at how many of us came for you today. How many of us noticed something was wrong and came after you to make sure you were okay. You're our friend, someone who can do all these amazing things that few others can. And... and I'm sorry for making you think otherwise."

Erna's eyes widened. "Lyse..."

"We've asked a lot of you already, I know that. And... and I know that before everything is said and done, we're going to ask a lot more. Just... remember that you don't have to carry this all on your own."

She felt a hand on her arm, and turned to find Lenar standing next to her. She looked to Cress and Gohnoh'a, the former offering her a reassuring smile, and the latter pretending to be uninterested in the goings on around him.

She couldn't help but smile.

"...Well then. Shall we finally reclaim that which was taken from us?" Fray said. She held up a hand and gestured for the others to stand down. "We can handle this final shade on our own. After all... dear Hirskfedar never could manage to beat me or Klyneyhil."

The others stood back, and watched as Ernastral fought the shade of her brother.

She never saw him fight as a dragoon. But she had seen a dragoon fight before, and she knew he had wanted to learn their ways for himself.

And she also knew that she could beat him.

The shade fell before her, and with another swing, she reclaimed the aether surrounding Myste. Myste fell to her knees, and her body began to dissolve into sparks of aether.

"Forgive me, forgive me... I ask, I beg, I pray, but it never comes..." She shut her eyes and tears fell.

Fray placed her borrowed sword point-first back into the ground.

"Again they go to join the multitude in the black oblivion of the abyss..."

Fray approached her, her own borrowed form beginning to dissolve as well. "Such is our lot. Such is the fate of all who are born—to suffer and die. Do not seek forgiveness, for it will not ease the burden. It weighs as it should."

"But what of the lost?" Myste asked. "What of all those we failed to save? All those we killed?"

"Do not dwell overmuch on your failures," Lenar said. "I realize that's rich coming from me. But I know from experience how awful it feels to be trapped in thoughts of 'what if.'"

"If you keep obsessing over the past, you'll lose sight of the future," Rielle chimed in. All eyes turned to her as she got to her feet. "Of the people still with us, who need us more than ever."

"Well said," Lenar agreed. "The memory of those we've loved and lost can never truly be taken from us. Even if the details fade, the love we bore will never truly die. And in the end, when death finally claims us, that love will endure in those we leave behind."

Fray shut her eyes and let out a soft huff. "So it goes."

"So our best recourse in this world," Lenar continued, "the best way to fight against its indifference and injustice, is to love. To love fiercely and deeply, without reservation. That is what I have always believed. And that is what I have always seen you do."

Erna sheathed her sword, and offered Myste a gentle smile. Myste bowed her head.

"Listen to my voice. Listen to our heartbeat. Listen..." Fray took a deep breath. "I forgive you. I forgive you. I forgive you."

After a moment, Myste lifted her head again. "Thank you. That is... that is all I ever wanted."

[sanctummiles]

𝕊𝕋𝔸ℝ𝕋𝔼ℝ ℂ𝔸𝕃𝕃 for ​Ser Noudenet. Please feel free to like this post if you would like a starter of random length and subject! This also poses as an open invitation to hope into my inbox or my IMs for any plotting!

[knights-of-ishgard]

HAPPY 6TH BIRTHDAY HEAVENSWARD

let's celebrate this fine day with the knights of the heavens' ward

[the-righteous-heart]

Day 30 - Free Choice After King Thordan's dead, Zephirin went to a journey to set things right. He wants to find his brothers in arms to rebuild the Heavens' Ward for the greater good.

[mentalrhapsody]

🔥❄️🌟

[aroseyetbloomedwrites]

In Their Care [ A Noudenet de Jaimberd/Francel de Haillenarte/Haumeric de Peulagnon Fanfiction ]

Rating: R/Lemon

Category: M/M/M

Fandom: Final Fantasy XIV

Relationships: Noudenet de Jaimberd/Francel de Haillenarte, Haumeric de Peulagnon/Francel de Haillenarte, Noudenet de Jaimberd/Francel de Haillenarte/Haumeric de Peulagnon

Language: English

Summary: But there was still something strange about the heat in Francel’s face that Noudenet could not help but peer in close to, leaning in with narrowed eyes.

“Do not tell me,’ Noudenet starts, ‘that you are supposed to be on bedrest and have snuck out.”

When Francel laughs, it is like a small wind chime; sweet and airy.

LINK TO AO3 HERE

For the first part read below.

    They find him tending the barren garden outside of the Haillenarte manor, maybe not so much tending as fiddling with a dark stalk of rose. He seems lost in thought, so when Ser Noudenet and Ser Haumeric spot him at the manor side-he does not immediately hear their approach. They see that there is something melancholy in the way he leans against the banister and into the bushes that make up the small side-gazebo, head cast downwards and gaze not necessarily on the stalk he held betwixt slender fingers. It had once bloomed an array of roses, but now it flowers no longer. 

Francel is wrapped conservatively in a light green bliaud, with black gaskins and gaiters. There is a brown scarf tucked around his neck and would surely be hiding the lower half of his face, but from the side even they can tell whom they spy by the telltale cavalier and its cheerful yellow feather. 

    “Lord Francel?”

    Haumeric calls out, paused in his walk with Noudenet to reach out towards Francel, the young man lost in a past nearly forgotten. Francel turns, caught partly by surprise to greet them a little hurriedly, a stutter off his tongue and a higher pitched rasp. 

    “Ser Noudenet! And Ser Haumeric!”

    His brows are raised, and there is a little tinge of delighted light in his eyes, a warmth blooming in his chest. Francel seems warmed to see them, and that lightens the load on their shoulders, the weight comes now only from the heavy alpine coats they wear. But, even they hear the strange tone to Francel’s voice, so they come closer to him beneath the pavilion and out of the gentle fall of snow. The young lord pulls down his scarf, holding it beneath his chin; his cheeks are a warm pink and it dusts across his nose brightly. His bow mouth curls up, and the smile is bright and pleasant and when turned on them feels like a warming light has taken them. But there was still something strange about the heat in Francel’s face that Noudenet could not help but peer in close to, leaning in with narrowed eyes. 

    “Do not tell me,’ Noudenet starts, ‘that you are supposed to be on bedrest and have snuck out.”

    When Francel laughs, it is like a small wind chime; sweet and airy. 

    “I am a little ill and have been forbade from entering the Firmament for further work, thus have I resorted to sneaking out to the garden. Alas, that it should offer less comfort than a warm spring might have should the roses have been able to bloom. I have been cooped up for far too long, that it eases now and I simply wanted out.” 

    “My guess is that you’ve caught a cold from over work whilst there in the first place.” Haumeric had not been able to tell at first, but trusted the keen eye of Noudenet above all else and his aetheric sensitivity. “Well, far be it from us to lecture you. Might we perhaps even be a bad influence and invite you further away?”

    Francel pulls up his scarf and ducks his head, but his eyes peek through the fringe of his lashes between the two as he thinks, slowly nodding his head after but a moment of thought. There was only so much work he could do in his room, and it was all rather repetitive. It was also a little embarrassing to have his family fussing over him so overbearingly, but perhaps it would not be so bad to have Noudenet and Haumeric tend to him. They had been thorough lovers when last he had been with the Ward, and Francel would not soon forget that-he knew that this situation would prove similar and that he would find love and comfort between the two as well.

    As it turned out, Haumeric and Noudenet lived apart but had their own small apartments within the city. They went to Noudenet’s, for Haumeric said his was little fit and under prepared for guests. He had spent much of his time hard at work in the Vault and with others of the clergy that he had mostly taken his meals and rests elsewhere. Ser Noudenet had liked the privacy of his own apartment apart from his colleagues, and after having been sent away had never intended to return to his previous home in the Lowlands. Being in disgrace, it was likely he would not have been accepted back so he took his meager pay upon return under the good graces of Ser Aymeric and continued to furnish the apartment. 

The main room hosted a warm brown sofa, there was a fireplace that looked well used and a stack of firewood beside it. The kitchenette was shoved into a corner of the same room. There were a few doors. One likely leads to a bedroom and the other to a bathroom. There was a table in the middle housing many piles of books and papers filled to their edges with barely legible scribbles and script, pens and ink refills scattered about. 

    Noudenet does not bother apologizing for the mess, and Francel does not even bat an eyelash at the size nor the state. He hangs up his scarf and hat on a hook by the door and walks with Haumeric to the fireplace to help get it started. Noudenet goes to his little stove because he has a mind to make a potent brew for Francel to help with the tail-end of his sniffles and cold. Being that he is most potent with fire, it’s very easy for him to start the stove. It takes only a snap of his fingers to bring it to warming temperatures. As it heats up with a kettle of water on it, he paces in thought of what to give Francel; yarrow, peppermint… maybe some sage along with something aetherically dense to boost his immune strength… He sees Haumeric and Francel still struggling over the fireplace. The growth of his fond smile makes the scar on his cheek tingle. 

    “Here, here….”

    He butts between the two to see the matches just simply aren’t taking on the paper wedged between the logs in the fireplace. A twist of his wrist, a snap of his fingers–he skips the paper entirely and catches one of the logs in a blaze. Francel looks awed, Haumeric only sighs at the necessity of it all and nudges shoulders with him. 

    “Thank you for the brute force.”

    “Well, we can’t have Lord Francel sitting in the cold while ill now can we.”

    Noudenet stands and paces back to his stove and starts going through his cabinets for the ingredients he’d been thinking about. The mix itself would be potent, and likely very bitter but somehow he doubted Francel had been taking the best care of himself so a dosing was long overdue. He mixes the leaves together in his own tea strainer and fills a cup with the steaming water from the kettle of the stove. He does not bother mixing any sugar in with it, it was going to have a strong taste anyways and a sweetener would hardly be able to cut it. Noudenet passes the glow of his hand over the top of it, steam disperses and aether flows around the cup making it seem to boil before it settles. Then he picks it up and and turns towards the sofa where the low murmur of chit chat comes from. 

Francel and Haumeric are sit huddled together on it, their thighs are leaned comfortably together and their heads are dipped close as they converse. To Noudenet, he is relieved that they can sit together so comfortably after what had transpired last–that there was no lingering anxiety or discomfort. It seemed the complexity of Francel’s feelings on the matter were not so unknown after all, and that as he had dealt with them one by one, his affections perhaps had grown as he came to know them. In this instance, as he learns from Haumeric the trials and tribulations he’d hoped to overcome by becoming one of the Heavens’ward; the dissolution of Trial by Combat having been one of them. 

    Noudenet comes to sit on Francel’s other side, their sides pressed together and their warmth shared. He passes the cup into Francel’s hands who looks at the drink with only some trepidation; perhaps remembering when last he’d taken drink from them, but the wrinkle of his nose betrays the purpose true of that look. Ah, so Francel is the type to have trouble taking his medicine. He looks as though he wants to say something, but as he glances to both Haumeric and Noudenet, finds the lodged complaint will make it little far and so he sighs and holds the cup to his lips. The first sip causes his brow to furrow and his mouth to frown. Potent indeed! But as he drinks he finds that while it tastes and feels like dirt in his mouth his nose begins to clear and the weight in his chest lessens-the itch disperses and the wrath at the back of his throat is soothed. He drinks it to the last drop under the watchful gaze of Noudenet and Haumeric, and when it is empty they both turn a heartfelt smile on him that causes a healthier blush to rise in his face and across his ears. 

    The room begins to warm in light of the fire at the hearth, Haumeric takes the cup and their coats (plus Francel’s bliaud) away. Noudenet cannot help but bring an arm around Francel's waist, his fingers press into the fabric at Francel's side to feel the feverish warmth beneath. He was still so warm, but had yet to complain about feeling unwell; he truly must have been fed up with doing nothing but laying about, and yet being here they likely had intended to ask the same of him. Haumeric comes back empty handed to look down upon them with a soft and easy smile, reaching out to trail his fingers through Francel’s soft locks first from front to back and then leaning further in to press his fingers down the back of his warm neck. His smile turns to something a little more sorrowful, as though looking upon an ill Francel, though recovering, was something to be sad about. 

    “I know that you hate it, but you really should be resting, my lord.” Haumeric says.

    “I should.” Francel agrees, looking up at him with heavy eyes and goosebumps on his arms-they’re hidden by the long sleeves of his button up. “Maybe it will not be so bad with you two there.” 

    When Francel pulls away from Noudenet and stands, it puts him nose to nose with Haumeric who does not move away; it makes Haumeric want to incline his head so that their lips may perfectly slant together, but he resists. Instead he takes him by the hand and leads him with fingers intertwined to the cool bedroom adjacent. The bed is low and would be easy to crawl into, fitted with several layers of sheets, a thick comforter and a weighted blanket. The pillows may not be downy, but they looked thick and comfortable. The bed looked big enough for two, but if they cuddled together could certainly fit three. Francel goes to sit on the edge of the bed, hands folded neatly on his knees as he looks up at Haumeric and Noudenet standing there. They glance between themselves before both begin to unfold from their clothes. First the buttons of their shirts, which they slip out of and let hang from the back of a chair, they feel the chill of the room in their fingertips even as they unlace their pants, stepping from them so that they stand only in their smalls. The cold touches their shoulders and tender bellies, so they are eager to undress Francel and slip beneath the covers with his feverish skin to press against. Francel stands again and comes into their arms. They unfasten the buttons of his button-up to reveal the smooth plain of his chest and soft stomach, where fingers cannot help but linger at the soft swell of supple flesh peaked above the hem of his gaskins. They eagerly unlace those so that they can fall to Francel’s feet and he may step out so that they might test the give of flesh at his waist with a pinch that has him chuckling softly. They guide him to the bed where they pull back the covers, Haumeric slides in and beckons to the space in the middle of the bed; Francel slips into his arms, tucks his face beneath his chin, and then there is warmth at his back where Noudenet slots against him, knees at the back of his own, his feet tangled with Haumeric’s. Arms hooked around his shoulder and waist. He feels cocooned and they feel warmed and comfortable against the bare skin of their feverish charge. Though it was still early, Francel finds that between the press of their bodies his eyes can still feel heavy. There are lips at his temple and the back of his feverish neck, but even this sensation dwindles away as he falls to sleep.

[[ For the Remainder click HERE. ]]

Thank you,

[im-thinking-arson]

Hi wow depression is a hell of a thing.

I'm sorry for the relative silence here, considering everything that has been going on in the last (roughly) year and a half it has been really hard to focus on any creative outlets. Everything has felt pretty heavy as I have been piecing together what exactly happened to myself and the people I used to share a community with.

Although my former FC is basically non-existent at this point, I feel it is appropriate to say that I no longer associate with its' leader @morganaux (sernoudenet on Twitter and formerly here) and to clarify why.

I have been struggling with what to even say about the situation. There are so many layers that I don't honestly know if any single cross-section could explain all there is to unpack. When it takes multiple people six months to explore everything they know as fact... I think that shows its not so much of a 'he said, they said' scenario as the few people who still support Morgy have tried to claim.

I feel guilty not speaking up sooner, considering this person is a member of the FFXIV community who I'm fairly sure some of my mutuals follow. Its so hard to speak out when he publicly acts innocent, like he has quietly moved on and refuses to acknowledge what he's done.

The reality feels so cold in contrast, with the knowledge I have- that he has done this multiple times before, burning down or wearing down those he has hurt with false sincerity; claiming innocence, claiming people misunderstand the significance of the intentions behind the knives in their backs, claiming he is the truest victim of the mess wrought of his own actions.

He quietly retweets fan art, cute animals, head canons, and all kinds of fandom things- but also others' tweets to identify with their own traumas- the same traumatic thoughts and feelings he incites in others through a mixture of gaslighting, lashing out, and playing the victim. He tweets passive aggressively about people he feels the victim of, (justified or not) even amid posts about his dearly beloved OC.

At this point I should just block him and try to scrape all memory of what I went through from my mind, but un-fucking-fortunately I know him too well to believe it's over when it's over. He still makes passive aggressive tweets about people he hasn't talked to in one, two, ?? years, a person who was a good friend to him for 10 years before he scapegoated them to maintain his own sense of righteousness.

Seeing as I witnessed him maintain not one, not two, not three- FOUR venting channels in his own discord, including at one point one specifically made for sh*tting on a single person, defending it's use and encouraging others to participate saying 'this is how victims cope'...

I know it's not over, and if he had a single shred of...anything... He could leverage against me he would have already tried to 'cancel' me. I'm not turning my back again to see if he decides to throw another knife.

For a long time I wanted to believe I had simply misunderstood the situation, that his intentions weren't so self-serving. The more I saw, the more I heard testimony from others that matched my own, the more I began to un-repress and process my own memories and connect the dots... And the less sense his own account made.

While I tried to maintain my friendship with him I ignored all the red flags, my own rise in anxiety, the isolation I felt. I felt so much pressure to fit into his equation, to be a supportive friend, to keep track of how he was feeling that I stopped taking care of my own mental health.

All the while he got angry for people not checking on him when he asked for space, threw a fit when anyone failed to accommodate his whims, and even accused his three closest friends of purposefully excluding him by taking screenshots without him in them or even hanging out together when he was offline..

And he would have people believe that most of the issues he was involved in centered on his friends not communicating with him. But in my case at least, nothing could be further from the truth.

I told him I felt uncomfortable with the fact his (at the time) friend had publicly lashed out at me in his discord server for stating my opinion. He suggested I work harder to befriend this person, that he couldn't and wouldn't approach his friend about it because he wasn't a FC member and only there as a friend of himself and his two closest friends.

He lashed out at a former friend (and FC mate) of mine -on my behalf- because they wouldn't stop messaging me while I was at work... And when this person subsequently put me on blast thinking I had put him up to it I mentioned considering posting my side of the story- to initially be shamed (by the person mentioned above) for suggesting I protect myself, stating it could make things worse for the people who had already publicly attacked this person...

I approached him about another former friend of his angrily ranting about a character I had though at the time they knew I was planning to RP (I had spoken about it both in-game and in a discord we all shared) because I didn't know them well enough to feel comfortable saying that made me feel uncomfortable and unwelcome in the space. I approached my former friend because I knew from experience he took things like this seriously and he was the one who had invited this character TO role play in the first place.

He reacted by telling this person he had no idea why I was upset, asked them to address an issue they had no context for - prompting them to write an apology, and then reinforced their worry that I hated them by saying I "probably disliked them since [I] hadn't written them an apology" in return. I had thought they both wanted to drop the subject because he stopped responding about the situation.

He decided the situation was resolved and kept inviting us around one another for at least four months while keeping up the illusion that I disliked this person despite me trying to remain friendly- and said nothing about the situation until AFTER he had nuked his FC and almost everyone was done with his bullshit. I had asked him to be honest about the situation and finally got "[name] thinks you dislike him" ???

(I might add more details about these situations because it's honestly much more of a mess than it might seem, but I'd probably have to write a fucking book to explain everything well in-sequence of events.)

But those examples aside, I told him up front that the favoritism he showed and my concerns being glossed over was messing with my head, that I didn't know if I felt safe in his FC, that the whole situation was making me feel like I was losing my grip on reality, that at one point feeling like I was being discouraged from defending myself was beginning to make me feel su*cidal. These are things he knew.

He reacted to this ignoring both cause and effect, ignoring me unless I reached out first or it concerned RP, continually inviting me to hang out with people he knew I felt uncomfortable with (or vice versa) and normally turning down anything I invited him to do otherwise- including several times that I offered to help him with Eden or dungeons he wanted to farm when he previously said he was free to do so. A couple of times he declined saying he was waiting to see if he could convince another friend... and then threw a fit about 'no one wanting to help him' despite declining my offer and not reaching out to me after his other friend declined (I was still online but he decided to vent on discord instead).

Behind my back he talked shit about me, enough that someone who had known him 10 years and was familiar with his behavioral patterns qualified it 'constant' bashing, whenever I came up in conversation. And even included confronting me about the three situations I mentioned above in a plan he was working on to 'fix' his FC, as if he thought I was reaching out to him to stir up drama.

Eventually it came out that the friend I mentioned in the first example was emotionally abusing his friends (and I found out later told him two of them were talking shit about him- prompting HIM to lash out at them). One of them mentioned that person had still been talking shit about me 6 months later on a private account and when I got upset that THREE people I had thought were my friends didn't tell me, I made a few jokes in poor taste (that I do now regret) about the situation to try and prevent myself from having a mental break down.

The person he led to believe I hated left the discord server at that point and he decided to divert some of the blame for (in his words) 'being worried for this person's life' -whom he had attacked over the situation- to me... blaming them leaving and him having trouble contacting them on me.

I told him if this former friend was indeed attacking people and he was so worried we needed to talk about the situation, since in other situations his response was to ignore the hurt caused. He blew up about me messaging him at work, he blamed me for every situation I had brought to his attention. He went to his mods to rant about me and sent one of them to scope out the situation in hopes they could shut me up.

This is the friend of 10 years, who quickly became concerned and not for the reasons he had hoped. They shared a few screenshots of things said to gaslight me behind my back as the conversation progressed. Eventually the other mod jumped in and, knowingly or not proceeded to gaslight me FOR him, based on what they were told. By him.

They reinforced everything he was saying in guise of a neutral perspective and my efforts to prevent a full-scale breakdown failed. I lost all grip on reality for several days- in which at some point I wrote an apology to him for accusing him of several things that were later proven true- and one thing he, himself, proved he'd lied about to the other person involved.

I spent almost two weeks in a self-imposed social break to sort everything out and attempt to cope with what I was told was reality. I fell into the deepest depression I've been in since I had to run away from home, and honestly if it wasn't for my wonderful SO and our house mates, I might have really hurt myself.

It turns out another situation had been brewing parallel to my own. People had been coming to the social mod, the friend of 10 years, with their own worries about him. Almost every. Single. Member. Including at least four people who came forward with fears that if they did a single thing that he interpreted as an insult or threat they would find themselves exiled, called out, and ranted about in a jumbled mix of truth and fictional-malice until their own friends turned on them to support his victim complex.

These four people came forward on the condition that their names be kept anonymous to protect their identity. He didn't take kindly to this, quickly demanding names so they (his mod team) could handle the situation. The mod refused, knowing he has a history of lashing out at any criticism against him and to protect those who were already afraid of bringing the problems up to Morgy.

He reacted by lashing out at this person, claiming they ruined his life, and attempting to weed out those who had spoken out against him by kicking anyone he didn't feel 'safe' being around from his FC. He posted a message in his FC discord about resuming his 'reign of terror'... Which, even if it was a joke, was in in poor taste after pruning his FC of anyone he didn't think could be convinced of his 'good intentions.'

I missed this first culling of his FC members, I assume, because I had apologized and at the time submitted to his version of events. He approached me soon after I noticed the changes in the discord and FC roster; claiming he really wanted to work things out and remain friends- going as far as to say he was so nervous about my reaction that he was shaking.

I wanted to take him at face value despite everything that happened because yeah, I did want to believe he was sincere, that he was a good friend, and that all of it had been an unfortunate misunderstanding. And at first I did until I started talking to other people who knew him and getting their side of the story. Nothing he said added up. Between first-hand testimony and over a hundred screenshots from multiple people the ONLY things that were clear and consistent were that he lied and fit his narrative to whatever he wanted to achieve.

He tried to reduce conflict by omitting information, he controlled people's perception of one another by how he spoke about them and how close he let them to himself and others, he built a support group by polarizing his friends against his 'enemies' and if anyone had a problem with him... They were wrong, and got added to the pile of 'aggressors' he had accumulated over the years, to be bashed and spit on for years to come.

He may have sensed my change in opinion when I directly asked him to help me reach out to the person who thought I disliked them-  managed to come to an understanding and we mutually apologized for the situation... Without his meddling. Or maybe when he realized I was still on talking terms with the people he had lashed out at and directly asked him why he had kicked people who did absolutely nothing to him... Or it could be that I kept in contact with the person who 'ruined his life' by trying to protect his friends from him. I don't know.

While we were still talking he tried to identify with me and bond over the feeling of loosing the FC, a group of people that despite the anxiety, and pain I had felt in the environment he'd built I did deeply respect and care about... Despite the dissolution of that group and the abuse I suffered being -at the core- his own fault. He even went as far as to say my description of the PTSD and fear I was experiencing described exactly how he was feeling, too.

As our conversations further weighed on my mental health I had to take a break from interacting with him. I was honest again, with what I was told, what I knew, and asked him for honesty about the situation... What he had said about me behind my back and why because I wanted to hear it from him. I wanted to see if he would acknowledge the harm he caused both to me and the rest of the (former) FC.

He never did, and probably won't. He asked for some time to tend to his own stress levels and mental health and then blocked me on all social media and discord, and kicked me from his FC without ever making an effort to reach out.

Of the few people who are still close to him, one of them suggested that "maybe he just decided he didn't want to be friends anymore." But after him begging to have a conversation to iron out all the facts, claiming to be so anxious about such a conversation going well that he was 'shaking', admitting that what he did hurt people and that my being wary of him was understandable, asking me -directly- to let him know if he did anything 'shady', and stressing he REALLY wanted this conversation to take place when we were both able to handle it because of how important he felt it was...

I feel like its fair to say that him suddenly cutting off all contact isn't quite so simple. He could have done that at any point. Before pointedly ignoring my concerns, before gaslighting me, before blaming me for the results of his own actions, before accepting an apology for accusing him of things he did legitimately do, and certainly before directly telling me had no real problems with me, that he it was super important to him that we remain friends, and that I deserved his honesty.

I'm not going to try and tell anyone who they should be friends with or not. Frankly, people can change and in a lot of cases experiences with individuals will be different.

But on that same note, if I had known then what I know now I might have saved myself from roughly two years of anxiety and avoided the state of dissonance I now find myself in. I still have moments where I want to doubt the things I experienced first hand. My mind is still trying to repress my own memories to cope.

A part of me still cares about him despite everything because as far as I knew, he was my friend and I am still trying to reconcile what I found to be true.

At this point I feel like I should say please don't harass Morgy if you read this, but honestly? If you have any reason to hold him accountable go for it. He needs it. And if you have any gut feelings about him or anyone in his circle please listen to it. The few supporters he still has are willing to ignore anything he has done previous to the fall of his FC and have shown they are willing to debate and accuse people who speak out about legitimate concerns involving him.

If anyone has any questions I am willing to answer them and share the proof I have.

And in the off chance anyone wants to (further) argue with me about my experiences or whether or not I suffered enough to be considered a victim, please Google some images of a hand giving the middle finger. But if after that you still really want to play stupid games? I can find you some stupid prizes.

I don't owe him my silence. Or peace of mind. The only thing I owe him is to be as entirely, brutally, honest as possible given the information I have. I think it's a fair offer considering the mind-numbing volume of honesty he -still- owes all of us.

- - - - -

I may add more onto this. Unfortunately the entire situation is a lot more complex, but I wanted to get the backbone of my own experiences out there and there is so much bullshit it can't all be seen from any one direction. A lot of the circumstantial evidence loops back into other situations and makes it hard to comprehensively represent everything on any sort of singular timeline. As I said in the beginning there is a reason it took a small group 6 months to piece it together.

I am far from the only person hurt, and the entire situation was a mess with people feeling unnerved or pressured into going along with his agenda. For the most part now that I have more context I don't blame most of the people involved for their own actions. I fully support those who can't or won't come forward about the situation whether they just want out of his drama, or are afraid to come forward.

[tuhis]

My heresy-purging standee got two new friends today.

[bootshine]

The High-Strung Historian of the “Lofty Goals” sidequest is literally just Ser Noudenet of the Heavens’ Ward, with only the hair color being very very slightly different.

He even acts and talks pretty much how most headcanon Ser Noudenet would act and talk, i.e. a nerd.

[leusignac]

Surely the Heavens’ Ward are happy on other shards

[ffxivxd]

Ser Noudenet de Jaimberd belongs to the Heavens' Ward. His family hoped that he would gain political leverage as a clergy member but he instead devoted himself to research.

[housefortempsknight]

“The stars are beautiful tonight, aren’t they, Nou?”

@sernoudenet

[celestial-tempestar]

“I can cook too, Janlenoux! See!?!”