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lloydskywalkers · 4 years ago

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chrysanthemum

1/2 of the fics i wrote for the 10th anniversary zine!! if you haven’t checked it out yet please do @ninjaneverquit-zine , everyone worked so hard and did such a wonderful job, i’m beyond honored to have been included <3

I may not have been in the fandom since the start, but ninjago means the world to me - it’s gotten me through some of the worst times and pushed further in writing than i thought i’d go, and the fandom’s been a particularly bright light in my life since i’ve joined 💕and of course i can’t not celebrate that by writing for the light of my life lloyd garmadon, so here’s me crying over the garmadons anniversary-style :��D

Garmadon’s son has only been on the earth for twenty-four hours, and he’s only been Lloyd for nineteen, but he already finds himself terrified of the tiny, living thing he cradles in his arms.

“He’s so small,” he tells Misako, eyebrows furrowed in concern. “Is he supposed to be this small?”

Misako, who’s been answering questions similar to this for the better part of the morning, rolls her eyes. “He’s fine, Garmadon. He was born a little early, that’s all.”

Not as reassured as he should be, Garmadon returns his gaze to his son. He’s sleeping now, deathly still in his arms, and he resists the urge to wave a hand over his tiny face, if only to feel the small puffs of breath he knows must be there. He brushes a wisp of hair from his head instead, marveling at how pale it is.

“He’s got my father’s hair,” he murmurs.

“I don’t care, Garmadon, we’re still not naming him after the man.”

It’s Garmadon’s turn to roll his eyes. “I never said that. I said Montgomery was an unacceptable name to burden my son with.”

“Oh, your son.”

He misses the rest of her retort as Lloyd fidgets briefly, tiny features screwing up as he shifts. A flash of lightning from outside brightens the room, and Garmadon pulls Lloyd closer reflexively. The thunder crack follows soon after, and Garmadon flinches, the thick smell of rain filtering through the open windows. He can already see thick droplets sliding down the hydrangeas Misako’s growing in the windowsill, drowning the pale flowers. It’s been pouring all week, typhoons hitting the coast with gusto as they always do this time of year. Garmadon doesn’t like it — his son is much more suited for the sun and all its brightness, not the grey-skied downpour of thunderclouds.

Lloyd hardly reacts to the downpour, having gone still and silent in his arms once again. Garmadon’s heartbeat quickens. He shouldn’t sleep this much, should he? He doesn’t remember Wu being like that, but he was so young when Wu was born, and it was so long ago, and he can’t feel for Lloyd’s breathing now because the breeze pouring through the window’s too strong, and—

A soft hand sets on his shoulder. “Here,” Misako sighs, guiding Garmadon’s hand to rest gently over Lloyd’s chest. “Feel. That’s a heart, going strong.”

Despite his hesitance, a deep-rooted part of him still desperately afraid his touch might hurt something so small, Garmadon does so. Lloyd’s heartbeat is rapid and as fragile as a bird’s wing, but undeniably there. A small, living thing.

Something warm curls in his chest, and Garmadon thinks he might understand his father’s delight in creation — in things that live.

Not, of course, that his father has ever created anything so perfect as Lloyd, but Garmadon can credit him for having tried.

* * *

It’s weird, having a dad.

Not the concept of having a dad — Lloyd’s bragged enough about being the son of Lord Garmadon to at least get that part. But actually having him here, a living, breathing person who looks at Lloyd and cares—

It’s weird, that’s all. Not that it’s a bad weird.

“You need to wrap your hands, before you go hitting things like that,” Garmadon scolds gently, twisting gauze around Lloyd’s bruised, swollen fingers. “The others can show you how, for training. They should have shown you earlier.”

Lloyd bites his lip. He doesn’t tell his dad that the bruises are less from training, and more from pointlessly banging on bars in an attempt to get on Pythor’s nerves. It sounds silly, compared to the way his dad swept in like a big hero and took out all the snakes in single swipes.

A big hero. Lloyd wonders if the others will ever see him that way, too.

His hand twinges as the gauze pulls tight, and Lloyd sucks in a sharp breath. Garmadon flinches, drawing his hands back.

“I’m sorry,” he says, quickly. “I keep forgetting — you’re so small.”

Lloyd makes a face at that. Small? “I’m not that short,” he grumbles. “I’ve grown lots.”

“Of course you have,” Garmadon amends. “I only—”

His expression twists, and Lloyd’s stomach drops. There’s that look again.

“I’m sorry,” Garmadon repeats, sounding downtrodden.

Lloyd purses his lips. For all his bragging, he’s never really thought much about whether he likes his family or not. It’s hard, when you don’t have one around to like. Watching the way his dad worries and his uncle walks around all stone-faced now, Lloyd’s not sure he should like it. He likes Uncle Wu, of course, and he loves his dad, but—

He hates the way they all walk around like they’re preparing for a funeral. His dad’s funeral, his funeral, whichever it ends up being. It’s stupid. Lloyd’s lived on the streets for months, and in Darkley’s even longer. He wouldn’t have minded walking around like he’s doomed for misery then.

But now? When he’s got people who care, and a family?

Lloyd sets his mouth stubbornly. He doesn’t know much about destiny, or the prophecy, but he knows he’s not about to lose this. Not when he’s come so far, when he’s so close to having — to being someone worth having around.

No funerals, Lloyd promises himself. He can see this prophecy through — they both can, the two of them. You have to be alive to be a family, right?

“It’s okay,” he finally replies. “I’m alright, dad.”

And he’s gonna stay that way.

* * *

When Garmadon had thought about the final battle in the past, he’d expected the darkness. The destruction, the pain.

He hadn’t expected to survive.

“So you’re really giving up fighting, then?”

Glancing up at Lloyd, taller now yet still small enough to not quite fit his bright golden gi, Garmadon finds survival a very welcome surprise.

“Yes,” he says, returning his gaze to the flowerbeds Misako’s helped him put in the monastery garden. They’re coming along well, despite the recent fits of bad weather, and they do a fine job of making the monastery look homey. Unthreatening.

He hopes, at least.

“I think I’ve done enough fighting, for my part,” he continues. He gives Lloyd a wry look. “I’m not sure Ninjago could take much more of it from me, anyways.”

“I dunno,” Lloyd says. “It’s been getting pretty boring.”

Garmadon snorts. “Boring is something you should appreciate, son. Excitement isn’t always good.”

“No, but it isn’t bor—dull,” Lloyd mutters, crouching down to study the flowerbeds. Garmadon shakes his head in reply, sighing. He remembers being his son’s age once, yearning for the next thrill, even if it feels ages away now.

He’s got a whole lecture on appreciating the quiet moments on the tip of his tongue, too, when Lloyd speaks up again.

“We used to have these flowers at Darkley’s,” he says, tilting his head as he studies them. “Some of the boys tore them all up and threw ‘em at the window, but they were pretty before that."

Garmadon bites the inside of his cheek, his eyebrows furrowing. His expression softens as he spots the gentle way Lloyd handles the flower, carefully pushing it back to place. It never fails to baffle him how someone as gentle as Lloyd could’ve come from his beginnings, much less from Garmadon, but he treasures it.

“Snapdragons,” Garmadon says, instead. “Fitting flowers, for our family.”

Lloyd looks at him curiously, eyes bright with the light of suspicion, and Garmadon is tempted to tell him the full truth, then and there. But Lloyd is still so young, innocent and naive and barely come to terms with his place as the Green Ninja. The truth of their blood is a heavy one, and Garmadon can’t find it in himself to lay it on Lloyd’s shoulders today. No, his son is happy among humans, so a human he’ll let him be. Someday he’ll know he’s more, closer to the dragons he admires than he realizes, but not quite yet.

Miraculously, Garmadon has the time, now.

“If you stay after dinner, I can show you how they’re planted,” he offers. Lloyd nods, and Garmadon’s smile widens.

Destruction is in his blood, and he’d be blind to say it isn’t in Lloyd’s as well. Power is power, whether it’s bright and beautiful or stained in darkness, and Lloyd could shatter mountains as well as move them, if he wanted.

But Lloyd never moves to pull the flowers up, only watches them rustle slightly in the breeze, leaving them to grow a little bigger, a little brighter. Garmadon, for his part, watches his son, all bright eyes and the burnished gold hair of his grandfather, and reminds himself that one needs not be a master of creation to appreciate life.

* * *

Lloyd likes to think of himself as an optimist, for the most part. He’s at least good at pretending that he is one, with how many times he’s had to convince himself it’s worth it to get back up.

Right now, he’s trying to remember how he’s ever managed to convince himself, because this time, getting back up seems impossible.

Lloyd used to wonder, back during Morro, how far you had to push yourself to break like that. How far someone had to push you, to truly splinter. He thinks he might have found his answer, though his is less of a bitter hatred and more of an empty abyss of hurt.

It hurts to breathe. That would be a sign that something’s wrong, if Lloyd didn’t already have about sixty other signs that he’s in trouble. But the breathing thing is sticking out to him especially, right now. His lungs feel like they’re scraping against his ribs every time he tries to draw breath, bruised and stinging, and there’s a deep ache in his chest that grows worse by the minute.

He tries swallowing again, sand scraping down his throat as he does. He hisses out a breath instead of coughing, almost frightened that his lungs will give out completely if he does.

He says almost, because Lloyd isn’t sure what emotions he’s got left to feel anymore.

A lie. Pain starts numb, sometimes.

Lloyd’s chest spasms as he sucks in another breath, and he wishes the desert would swallow him whole. His father — his real father, who pushed him from the Cursed Realm and told him to return to light and living — would want him to stand back up. He’d beg him to, stress the importance of continuing on, of persevering. Stuff like that.

But if it wasn’t for his father, Lloyd wouldn’t have to get back up in the first place. If it wasn’t for his father, Lloyd wouldn’t be—

His eyes burn, stinging as he squeezes them tightly shut, and he tells himself it’s the sand.

Instead, he focuses on the ragged beat of his heart. He only knows it’s there because his chest throbs in pain with every pulse, but he latches onto the feeling and holds tight.

Still alive, he tells himself, even as every bit of him sings in agony and his lungs scream at him to stop. He’s still alive. His powers aren’t answering him but they will, he knows they will, he can’t disappear like he did with Morro. He can’t — he can’t leave it, not like this, not with his father — not like this. If he can’t stop Harumi, if he can’t save his father, if he can’t do anything else at all, he can at least do this.

Stay alive. Stay alive. Stay alive.

He’s never realized how long the nights out here are, before.

* * *

After everything, the light dies down and the Oni vanish, and Lloyd’s heart stops.

It shouldn’t be a surprise to Garmadon, who isn’t even sure his own heart beats now, but it is.

It’s not supposed to stop. There was a promise made, somewhere, to keep it beating.

It restarts before he has the chance to process what that even means, and the swell of relief is so foreign, Garmadon leaves before he even has the chance to ask Lloyd what he’d seen. He thinks to himself, that will be the end of it. The end of whatever tentative connection he has with the boy, whatever frayed and tattered threads of something they once had. Better to cut them away for good.

Lloyd’s not one to let things die, though. Garmadon should know that at least, the boy tells him.

“I know you like repeating yourself,” he mutters. “Letting go is different.”

“That’s not what this is,” Lloyd huffs back.

Garmadon rolls his eyes, the two of them drifting aimlessly down the Ninjago City garden paths. It’s secluded, the rest of the city still recovering, and Garmadon’s grateful for the quiet, even if it is awkward. Building any kind of bridge with the boy is difficult, if only because Lloyd stresses that they’re rebuilding a bridge, and Garmadon has no memory of any bridge to begin with.

He’s still sifting through jumbled emotions, sorting out what his place in this world was and is supposed to be, but he knows that the word son slips easier from his mouth than daughter ever did, so he figures he’s on the right path, at least.

“It’s about—” Lloyd pauses, his expression contorting. “It’s about surviving, I guess,” he grinds out.

Garmadon’s mouth curls into a grin. “Really. You were quite…vocal, that it was about more than that.”

“It is, it’s just—” Lloyd cuts off again, stopping them in a half-ruined section of garden still littered with remnants of concrete. “It’s the payoff, you know? Here.”

He bends down, brushing dust from a surviving scattering of flowers. He gently touches the edge of a petal, pushing the flower head toward the sun. “See?” he says. “After all that, it’s still alive.”

Garmadon stares at the delicate edges of the petal, smaller and more fragile than any of the buildings that crumbled beneath his rule. At Lloyd’s nod, he stretches his own fingers out toward it, his hand impossibly dark and calloused next to his son’s own small one. But he brushes his fingers over the petal edge nonetheless, almost surprised that it doesn’t decay beneath his touch. It’s soft, he notes, like the fragile skin of a newborn. Odd that it should’ve survived, out of everything else that perished.

“So it is,” he says, carefully. Lloyd says nothing, but there’s a ghost of a smile around his lips. They must make an odd sight, the pair of them crouched in the dirt in the recovering garden. There’s no use in sitting here and looking at the flower, no explanation Garmadon can offer himself, but he doesn’t leave. He can take the moment, he decides, to appreciate what Lloyd is trying to show him.

They too, after all, are still alive.

#lego ninjago #ninjago #lloyd garmadon #garmadon #my fic #oh nO im getting emotional now

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vannahfanfics · 3 years ago

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Re:Connect

Category: Romance

Fandom: Kingdom Hearts

Characters: Sora, Kairi

Hi, everyone! I am super happy to present the story I wrote for the @sokaizine! It was an honor to write for this beautiful zine, it really did turn out gorgeous!

A melody—the gentle ebb and flow of the waves sloshing upon a shore of pristine white sand, gracing Sora’s ears for what seemed to be the first time in decades. He stood with his toes wiggling in the slush beneath the sloshing water. The salt stuck to his skin with every gush of the water around his calves. His nerves echoed the chime of “home, home, home sweet home” that had been resounding in his heart since his plummet from the World of Darkness several days ago.

Yet Sora stood there, head tipped back to allow the sunshine to kiss his face while breathing in the salty breeze because some part of him still couldn’t believe that he was home. Part of him feared that when he’d open his eyes, he’d be standing not on Destiny Islands but on one of the many other worlds he’d traversed. Part of him feared the waves and wind in his ears—the melody he’d so sorely missed—had been a figment of his imagination.

Eventually, Sora’s neck grew cramped for being craned for so long, forcing him to drop his chin to his chest and open his eyes. He felt a little silly for the flood of relief that washed over him when they beheld the horizon line between the sapphire sea and the aquamarine sky. Since when did I worry about things like this? he thought, the corners of his smile sagging down. By now, he thought he’d be back to himself—running along the beach laughing without care, playing games with his friends.

He was beginning to think that Sora was gone entirely, replaced by the brooding imposter he was now.

Groaning, Sora tucked his fist under his chin and stared thoughtfully at the waves splashing around his bare legs. He’d rolled up his pants, but the tucked hems still darkened with water as the seafoam and salty droplets flew up with the coursing currents surging up the shoreline. His eyes reflected the ribbon-like white patterns of the froth lapping at his shin and streaming around him to dissolve into the saline solution. He wondered if he too was dissolving away, bits and pieces of him joining the ocean to be carried away with the tide... never to return.

“Sora?”

Ah. Another melody he’d sorely missed.

Sora turned around with raised eyebrows to see Kairi standing just out of reach of the flowing water. Her long auburn hair rippled in the sea breeze, as did the fabric of her pleated skirt and white button-up.

“What are you doing?” she inquired cutely, in that innocent, non-judgy way she always did. “I half expected to find you napping, you sleepyhead.”

The corners of Sora’s mouth twitched, and he cast his gaze down to the expanse of white sand beside her. He could envision his younger self lying there, stretched out like a lazy cat in the sun snoozing the day away. When did he lose that urge, that childish ability to fling his cares into the breeze to be spirited away into the great unknown?

“Heh. Yeah,” Sora chuckled weakly and turned back to the horizon. He slipped his hands in his pockets as his eyes became lidded. “Guess I’m not that sleepy,” was all he responded with.

“Sora? What’s wrong? You seem… sad.”

He tensed at the confusion that bled into her voice this time. He should have known better than to be evasive; Kairi knew him better than anyone, after all. She could hone in on his mood changes with the precision of a hawk.

Instead of inventing an excuse for his obviously odd behavior, Sora breathed a heavy sigh and removed one hand from his pocket to scratch awkwardly at the back of his neck.

“You promise not to laugh?” he asked Kairi quietly as he peeked over his shoulder at her. Honestly, he felt so silly standing there sulking on the beach because of some twisted identity crisis. Kairi’s face melted into a sweet, sincere smile, and though she hadn’t even said anything yet, Sora relaxed.

“You know I would never.”

“Well...” Sora sighed vexatiously, “I’m feeling a bit… disconnected.” He returned his gaze to the ocean stretched out before him to watch the sunlight refract against the curling waves to make them sparkle like blue diamonds. He dropped his arm down, clenching and unclenching his fist as he struggled to verbalize his perplexing emotions. “Like I just… Like I’m a different person now.”

“Of course you’re a different person.” When he looked back to her, she was slipping out of her flats and socks so she could step into the surf and stand beside him. She clasped her hands behind her back and leaned forward, flashing him that bright smile that kept him going through many, many dark days and nights. “It’s been almost two years, hasn’t it? Of course you aren’t the same as you were back then, but that’s not a bad thing.”

Sora poked his lips out in a little pout, not entirely convinced. Before he could refute her, Kairi giggled and splashed around to step in front of him. Still smiling that toothy smile that seemed to shine with the moon and stars themselves, Kairi gently grabbed his wrists to hold them out. Her fingers slowly slipped across the surfaces of his palms, roughened from bearing his Keyblade, to loosely link their fingers.

“You’re different in some ways, but you’re still the Sora I know,” Kairi consoled him confidently.

“Are you sure?” Sora whispered, admittedly growing a little frightened. How could she be so assured that he had not lost everything that made him Sora? Funny faces, minor pranks, boundless optimism, emboldened courage, adventurous dreams… Right now, Sora felt as if he couldn’t summon those personality traits no matter how hard he tried. Right now, all he felt was doubt.

“I’m positive.” She waded backward in the waves, pulling him along until the water lapped at their upper thighs. “I’ll prove it to you.”

“How?”

Of all the answers, Sora did not expect it to be him on the receiving end of a face full of seawater.

“Kairiiiiii!” he whined as he hunched to the side, spitting the disgusting briny water off his tongue and blinking away tears that streamed from his red eyes burning from the salt. Kairi laughed and splashed him again, this time dousing his spiky brown hair. He contemplated what to do for a split second, but then buried memories burst forth, guiding his body into action. With a small growl, he side-eyed her with vengeful determination. “All right, you get over here!”

Kairi squealed as he lunged toward her. She just managed to skip out of his grasp, retaliating with another splash in his face. Sora spat out water again, but this time he felt something oddly slimy on his face. When he cross-eyed his vision, he could just barely see the wispy fronds of some green seaweed decorating his upper lip like a kelpy mustache. Kairi howled with laughter, pointing at the leafy addition to his visage.

“Oh, you think that’s funny, do you?” Sora grinned as he pulled the seaweed from his face and flung it away. He wiggled his fingers threateningly while he crept towards her. “I don’t think you’ll find it very funny when I give you a whole seaweed beard, Kairi!”

“I bet I can pull it off better than you could,” she teased, sticking out her tongue and flashing him a wink. Sora’s grin darkened, and his eyes narrowed with determination.

“That’s it, Kairi! I’m gonna getcha!”

Kairi’s screeching laughter bounded across the sand, rustling the fan-like palm leaves and shaking the fuzzy coconuts as Sora surged forward. His motion created waves of its own, colliding with the others to surround the two teenagers with froth and bubbles. The water hampered Kairi’s movement as she attempted to sprint away, and Sora used his larger frame to his advantage as he jumped forward to wrap his arms around her waist.

“Ahh! Sorry, no, I’m sorry! Please don’t give me a seaweed beard!” Kairi giggled and swatted at him over her shoulder. Sora easily dodged her half-hearted slaps while weaving one arm around her waist to pin her left arm and used his other to snatch her right wrist.

“Can’t escape now,” Sora grinned widely. As he held her there, preparing to dunk her head in an oncoming wave, Kairi craned her head with that brilliant smile once more gracing her face. Her eyes shone and her cheeks flushed rose in exhilaration, while her chest heaved in breathless exertion.

“You see?” she said warmly. “You’re still my Sora.”

As soon as the words “my Sora” passed her pretty pink lips, Sora’s jaw became unhinged. It swung stupidly, leaving his mouth gaping wide as he stood utterly stupefied. My Sora. My Sora, her words chimed in his head like the bells of Twilight Town, over and over to signal to the oncoming sunset. As the diamonds on the water filled with gold to turn them into gleaming topazes, Kairi slipped her hand from his slackened grip to adoringly cup his cheek. Her sky blue eyes flooded with the sunset, mirroring the red-orange-gold of the sky blazing above their heads.

“My Sora,” she echoed, just a feather of a breath whisked away by the breeze no sooner than he’d heard it. If he hadn’t seen her lips moved, he would’ve sworn he imagined it. His eyes filled with tears, and he reached up, overlaying his large hand over her much daintier one.

“Am I dreaming?” The question came out as a choked sob, the fear cracking his voice like shattering granite. “Is any of this for real, or not?”

“Of course it’s real, silly,” Kairi laughed, but not a chuckle of derision; it was filled with so much warmth, so much love, that Sora couldn’t feel the sun on his skin anymore because her glow basked him entirely in its light. “The wind in your hair… The sound of the waves… My hand on your cheek…” She punctuated the last statement by gently caressing his cheekbone, sweeping away his streaming tears with her thumb. “It’s all real. You’re home, Sora.”

Sora didn’t say anything. He couldn’t say anything. His throat had constricted impossibly tight, preventing him from nearly breathing, let alone talking. So instead, he leaned forward to press his forehead into hers. The water slicked her skin, making him slide a little, but he didn’t mind. Finally, that sharp-toothed beast of doubt and delusion that had been gnawing at him for days had been vanquished with Kairi’s soft words.

This was his home. This was his Kairi.

“Thank you,” he finally managed to murmur. Kairi hummed in satisfaction. She allowed him to continue to hold her, to osmose her presence that he’d been deprived of for so long. From the blissful expression on her face, she was doing the same with Sora.

The sunset coated them in its dying light, casting them in gold. They stood like bronze statues in the water, a monument of innocent past and uncertain future. When Sora finally convinced himself to pull away from her, they waded together back to the beach, where several Thalassa shells had washed up into the sand.

“Not feeling disconnected anymore, are you?” she asked as they lazily meandered alongside the delineation between wet and dry sand. They stood close, close enough for her shoulder to bump against his bicep with every stride.

“Nah,” he said with a peaceful smile. “I feel like myself again.”

All Sora had needed was for someone to reconnect him.

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

#sokai #sora x kairi #kairi x sora #kingdom hearts #khii #kingdom hearts ii

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rentfreecat · 4 years ago

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Final Fantasy and Kingdom Hearts Fanfic Recs

so yeah I figured I should get around to making a list of some of my faves to promote them, I’ve got a big enough collection of bookmarks now. in no particular order. not all of them are necessarily complete or alive

Final Fantasy VII

The Gold Saucer’s Golden Arches by belderiver

Before he doomed the world to ash and ruin, Sephiroth wanted a burger.

note: Sephiroth + sudden hunger pang = mcgold

Meetings by Yinza

Aeris reflects on her few encounters with Sephiroth over the years since her escape from the lab.

note: Aerith having known Sephiroth before is just one of my favorite headcanons

lather, rinse, repeat by annperkinsface

She knows she shouldn't confuse this act of kindness for anything else, but it's hard, when Aerith is draping a towel over her shoulders, when Aerith is warm at her back, humming as she works a thick lather across her hands.

note: adorable Aerti. Aerith being a weirdo. Tifa blushing and being kinda horny. perfect. in case you couldn’t tell I ship it.

In Circles by Larissa

Tifa hates Midgar, and yet she stays, and she stays, and she stays.

Character study/pre-game gap-filler. Written for the Tifa Zine.

note: beautiful mood piece

the nodding golden tansy by Kieron_ODuibhir

“You think this troubles me?”

“Yes,” said Cloud, without looking up from his tea.

note: one of my fave takes on Seph and Cloud’s relationship. wonderfully quiet and melancholy.

not one before another by Kieron_ODuibhir

1) Sephiroth almost corrected the first person who called Aerith his sister, a woman they’d met before they were even out of Midgar’s slums complimenting him on taking such good care of her, while their mother shopped.

2) The other half of Project S took after their father.

3) Blue eyes contemplated him narrowly for several seconds, and then Genesis’ smirk came back, lying on his face more easily, somehow. “So brothers-in-arms to the skirmish shall we hence?”

4) It felt wrong to be relying on anybody but Mother, but Mother…only cared about Sephiroth, and it wasn’t fair. Loz sniffled. “Will she take care of Yazoo, too?”

5) “I’m glad he’ll have a big brother,” she said, as Sephiroth crossed the room. “Little ones always need someone looking out for them.”

Sephiroth nodded, and bent forward, and peered at the squashed little pink thing until it stirred, objecting probably to cool air on its face. “What’s his name?”

“Cloud."

(Five times in five worlds where Sephiroth was somebody's brother, and one where he wasn't anymore.)

note: exactly what it sounds like. personal fave is 4.

Angels Still Have Faces by Kieron_ODuibhir

On the fourth day, Sephiroth looked out a window and spotted his two friends together on one of the outdoor training fields, once again exchanging harsh words, only for Angeal to wheel around and storm off at the end.

note: fics where someone other than the main character time-travels are amazing and this is that and also outsider pov mother bear Sephiroth who doesn’t know what pizza is

Final Fantasy IX

puppet play by zalzaires

starting a drabble collection for ffix. i mostly just write about kuja so hence the name.

note: my personal fave is "curtains, bookends, stars of the show” because Kuja is such so... Kuja in there

Final Fantasy XV

ffucc the wedding by Givethemtriumphnow

Gift for Victortor, inspired by their fabulous ffucc Universe.

Noctis and Luna are the same person, one soul split into two bodies.

In a world where everyone lives and nothing hurts, the wedding is still a symbol of the peace, and the show must go on. Noct and Luna just can’t wait for what comes afterwards: the Big Reveal.

note: I just really like the one person two body trope okay? pretty entertaining read!

Poor Wayfaring Stranger by lithos_saeculum

Out on a mission, Cor Leonis finds a teenager, lost and sick and partway to becoming an MT. Against the advice of all and sundry, he brings him back to Insomnia. There's not a lot of love lost for MTs in the Citadel, but some of its inhabitants may still be young enough to put aside their prejudices.

note: also on my list of likes is MT Prompto trope, and honestly fuck canon that’s just there for inspiration. TW for implied pedophilia and stranger danger in one of the later chapters.

Will You Be There, Standing at the End of the War by Adel Mortescryche (Mortescryche)

When they're attacked by the Imperial Forces at Tenebrae, Regis wasn't prepared to be rescued alongside Noctis, Lunafreya and Ravus by the Commanding General of the enemy forces. Not after the man already cut Sylva down before them.

He was even less prepared for the face lying in wait behind the mask.

He dropped down to one knee, and rather pointedly cupped the left side of Drautos’ head, delicate, making no move to actually hide the fury raging through him.

“Talk, Titus.” Regis whispered. “Before I take this airship down from the sky.”

note: Drautos time-travels and is an absolute bastard. I like seeing his and Regis’s exchanges!

For Want of a Flan by magicgenetek

For want of some patience, Ifrit never freed Ardyn from Angelgard to rebel against the Astrals.

For want of Ardyn, Nifleheim never invented MT Troopers.

For want of MT Troopers, Lunafreya and Ravus were able to escape with Regis, and Nifleheim never cornered Lucis in their war.

For want of a kidnapping, Luna, Noctis and Prompto were able to work together to get ready for the prophecy, and Ravus is ready to suplex an Astral to make sure someone survives the prophecy.

For want of separation, the four of them go to Angelgard to figure out what secrets lay there, and accidentally adopt Ardyn into their plans to save the world.

For want of 2000 years’ prep time, Ardyn’s going to have to get up to speed on the modern world fast if he wants revenge or to fulfill his half of the prophecy.

note: has a good deal of worldbuilding and linguistics nerdery. I like that. I also like the recovery element of Ardyn’s arc.

A Little More Time by Asidian

The sun is brilliant overhead – set in a blue sky dotted with clouds that float like wisps of spun sugar through the high arc of the heavens.

It's more than lovely. It's entrancing, and Noctis takes one long, final look before he turns his gaze back earthward. His vision dances with sunspots for a moment, afterimages from the blinding light – but when it clears, Noctis sees a small black dog there, patient and watchful as always.

Umbra has been waiting.

"Alright," Noctis says. "We're ready to go back."

note: short, punchy, and absolutely chilling

Eschaton by nirejseki

Sure, it's the end of the world, but that just means someone's got to fix it.

And then the world found its somebodies.

(aka, with Noctis gone into the Crystal and no one sure when he'll be back, Ignis, Gladio, and Prompto end up saving the world one piece at a time)

note: I like worldbuilding and MTs alright? and schoolteacher Gladio will never not be funny/great

Astra Inclinant by thekindmagic

“Look,” Aranea laughs, shaking her head. “I’m not trying to shit on your destiny. But the way I see it? A lot of the time, there’s no big mystery. You either keep going, or you don’t.”

note: how could I not rec femslash? beautiful melancholy mood. I’m so sad for Luna

Starlight and Shadow by ohmyfae

While Noctis and his friends are setting up camp, Ardyn Izunia happens to accidentally stumble onto the runes of their haven. The magic of the haven pulls him into two halves; One is Ardyn, a small child with a bit of an ego and a limited knowledge of the world at large, and the other is the Scourge, shambling and groundless, determined to seek out its former host and consume the light it finds there.

note: fun read!

On the Care and Keeping of Prompto by ohmyfae

Congratulations! You have been chosen to ensure the well-being of PROMPTO, who is: 1. An absolute darling. 2. Of more intrinsic value than you, your significant other, your ancestors, and the world at large. 3. Two years and four months old 3a. This is very important to remember 4. Behind you.

note: also a very fun and fluffy read! also the fic that introduced me to the amazing crackship of Ardyn and Cor, and I say crackship but... I want more of it

Kingdom Hearts

The Price of Melodrama by LawnNinja

Xemnas never imagined that one of the hardest parts of his plan would be the stupid names.

note: deny it all you wish but you know this happened. also XULORD

(i don’t need you to) Worry for Me by Cygna_hime

In a fit of defiance and desperation, Vanitas disobeys his Master's orders and goes looking for the missing half of his heart. He finds it, and something else as well, something he never expected to find anywhere...

note: I absolutely love this I’ve read this like... 3 or 4 times? go read it now

Bleeding Heart by keelahselai

Xemnas was fundamentally a bad person. Born from the fracture of Xehanort's heart, he had only caused pain to those he banded together with under the promise of finding a way to return all their hearts. He shattered the Organization he'd founded for his own gain, and he understood this with cool indifference. But beneath everything, carefully kept folded away and hidden from Xigbar's prying eye, he was also made from the other inhabitant of Apprentice Xehanort's body. And as troubling as it could be to their plan, he kept it hidden from all.

(Or, how Terra managed to keep his head above the water for thirteen years)

note: I absolutely love the.. I don’t know what it’s called, but let’s say Terramas even though that sounds like a ship name... I absolutely love that trope. this one has such just a great mood y’know?

By Choice or Chance by Six_Piece_Chicken_McNobody

Lazy afternoons are a universal phenomenon.

note: I just love Xehaqus’s tragedy. this is nice, fluffy, and one of them is going to murder the other in his own selfish lust for power. (I know III said Xehanort had other motivations but I just love the “he’s such an utter bastard that all his relationships are going to end disastrously” interpretation)

Whatever Will Be by NanakiBH

Once I tell you the words I've been unable to say, it will be goodbye.

note: more explicitly melancholy mood than last one, still great.

#fanfic recs #final fantasy vii #final fantasy ix #final fantasy xv #kingdom hearts

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avianscribe · 5 years ago

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2019 Roundup

Phew, so... a week into 2020, and I'm doing a lot of self-reflection and deciding what I want this year to look for me... but while I'm doing that, I'll take a moment to look back!

Last year I posted 186,867 words to AO3! That amounts to about 512 words per day and... that was the biggest surprise for me, honestly. I wrote enough words to make a book!

My biggest project this year was Cracked, which is still ongoing (I posted Chapter 33 just after Christmas). It's been a massively fun fic to write, and people seem to be enjoying it, so! My biggest goal for this year is to finish it.

My most popular fic was Charity Case -- and I'm glad, because I'm actually plenty proud of it! It's a tight 19,370 words and a fun twist on the "Prompto needs help" trope.

I wrote a handful of short fics based on prompts, and they were a lot of fun! I also wrote a couple fics based on AUs in Cracked, which was a fun exploration -- and the biggest of those is Thirst, which is still ongoing but I expect to wrap it up soonish...!

I participated in my first fanzine this summer, with the fic “A Blossom Grown for You” for the Full Bloom Zine, and that was so much fun to be a part of!

So in case you missed them, here's my fics for this year -- all for the Final Fantasy XV fandom because I've fallen in deep and haven't found another fandom that inspires me yet. XD

Shatter My Universe series (The Cracked Universe):

Cracked chapters 1-33 (WIP) -- Ignis is about to use the Ring of the Lucii, and Ardyn decides to put a stop to it by sending Ignis on a different journey -- one that takes him through a bunch of alternate worlds. This was honestly? an excuse to play with a bunch of fandom tropes that I would not otherwise write, mostly to poke fun at them -- but it grew a a plot while I was at it...

Thirst chapters 1-15 (WIP) -- A vampire AU in which the Lucis Caelums are vampires, and Prompto was part of a cloning program Besithia started to create vampire bait. Shenanigans ensue. Lots of teenage bad-decision-making, with consequences! This started as an AU I created for Cracked, but I thought was interesting enough to develop further.

Drowning in Flowers (complete) -- When love can literally kill you, you grow up knowing to be careful where to let your affections lie. Prompto knew that. But apparently not well enough. Another Cracked AU that I decided to turn into its own fic. Hanahaki disease, with exploration of the consequences.

Shorts From Prompts (The titles are the prompt words I was given):

Shaky -- Coming back after a phoenix down, Noctis is on pretty shaky ground. (My favorite of this set, AND the most popular!)

Salty -- Prompto insults the chef (and that's not a good idea).

Sleepy -- Long car rides make you tired. (One of two Gladio POVs I’ve written XD)

Itchy -- Ignis gets up close and personal with the flora, and he doesn't appreciate it.

Heartbroken -- The kings of yore tell Regis about his son's destiny.

Other miscellany:

Charity Case (complete) -- When an embargo traps Prompto's parents (and any money they can send him) overseas, he has to rely on the help of others. It's a good thing he has some really good friends! (Until they take it a little too far!)

A Quiet Victory -- When Noctis is badly injured in the Marilith attack, Ignis tries to find something he can do to make the young prince smile. (I wrote this one because I liked the idea I came up with for a zine I didn't get into, and decided to write the idea anyway.)

Not the Way You Play the Game -- A gift fic for the prompt "It's Ignis' first day in the Citadel.... and Noct's governess needed the day off. Cor is assigned to watch them both."

A Blossom Grown for You -- Young Ignis notices that Noctis is feeling poorly -- and King Regis's frequent absences only seem to make it worse. (The fic I wrote for Full Bloom Zine; familial hanahaki!)

Gallopin' Greens -- Prompto buys home-packaged gyzahl greens from a skeevy peddler when they stop at a Coernix station, and when the chocobos don't like them, he eats them himself. (Gift fic for the FFXV Holiday Gift Exchange, 2019)

#final fantasy xv #ffxv fanfiction #2019 roundup #avianscribe's writing

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lesboinspace · 5 years ago

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PKMN Villains Zine Fic: The Aether Foundation

This was written for @pkmnvillainszine !! Digital copies of it may go on sale again if there’s enough interest~ I loved being able to write about Lusamine, she’s one of my favorite characters! Her past is hinted at in the game so I did my best to add to it :D I do feel that this is important to note: no one’s past is an acceptable reason for abusing someone else, and in no way am I saying that!! I just think Lusamine is a really complex character that we didn’t get enough focus on, thus this was born c:

Beautiful Disaster

Word Count: 2,583

Rating: T

Summary: Lusamine is an abusive mother, her heart black and mind rabid with dangerous dreams of destiny. However, she wasn’t always so void of morals; quite the opposite, in fact. It takes quite a traumatic past to corrupt an angel into her sinister counterpart. [A Lusamine-centric overview of her history as well as the Aether Foundation’s]

Lusamine’s heart was, once upon a time, one of overflowing love. Her gentle soul was angelic, admirable, just bursting with kindness as it sought hurt to heal.

She was renowned for her remarkable compassion, it being deemed her most defining and enticing trait. This unparalleled kindness led to swarms of adorers, treasuring her and the calming aura she carried with each soft step against the earth.

She was treated like a saint by strangers; a mere conversation would be enough to fall under her coaxing spell. Of course, Lusamine had also been blessed with a youthful exterior.

Her lithe physique, long locks of golden sunshine, and glowing green eyes may have intrigued passerbys, but it was Lusamine’s pure heart that caused many to revere her. It’s why Mohn married her.

Despite her perceived perfection, too beautiful to be of this world and a compassion rivaled by none, there was yet another factor that made Lusamine beyond mortals’ comprehension.

Lusamine had a brilliant, curious brain. She’d eye a problem, an equation, a mystery, and with ease, the answer would come together like puzzle pieces.

However, her vast Intelligence was often omitted, made irrelevant by her exceptional beauty and caring disposition. Of course, Lusamine’s logic was respected in her work environment, given its scientific purpose.

Even so, as Lusamine contributed to breakthroughs for the good of all Pokemon, compassion was viewed as the main driving force by those around her, all while bearing the form of a gorgeous young lady.

It didn’t matter that her brain functioned like that of a machine. Rather, the attention was, as usual, on the fantastic results of such endeavors: All the time, all the effort, was chalked up to Lusamine’s caring nature instead of her wondrous intellectual mind.

To many, Lusamine wasn’t even human, too above such a dull title and abysmal fate. She was spawned from the sky, an angel among men who’d abandoned the glorious heavens to be marveled at as she aided those in need. A wingless deity with a pure soul, not to mention the IQ surpassing the common genius…

Then her children were born, and everything changed. None of those things that marked Lusamine as heavenly mattered anymore. Only her babies mattered.

Those first moments of existence for Gladion and Lillie, the shallow breaths as their children entered the world and the cries that followed, set the stage for the future. When Lusamine held her perfect children close as Mohn caressed her shoulders, reality froze.

An unforeseen flash captured the family in a still frame. The picture hung in the forefront of Lusamine’s mind, framed and isolated. That day, she sought to claim this bliss for eternity, expanding the feeling of absolute joy across her timeline.

Life was perfect, too perfect to let subside. A certainty cemented itself in Lusamine’s essence: she would enjoy this perfection every day until she dies, still bearing a smile.

After experiencing the utmost level of happiness, Lusamine wasn’t going to let it go so easily.

Perfection was tasted, and she refused to spoil her tongue with anything else. They were a family, so beautiful in their completion. Everything was as it should be. Lusamine didn’t expect it all to be finite.

While studying Ultra Wormholes, Mohn was ripped from his dimension right in front of her. An experiment had erupted into chaos as Lusamine tried with all her strength to pull her husband away, but it was futile. She’d managed to ground herself behind a sturdy column.

Mohn had been less reactive, mesmerized by the wormhole while Lusamine had immediately fled. By the time her husband ran, Lusamine could barely grip his hand before he was sucked into the unknown, forever lost, forever out of reach.

When the wormhole vanished, Lusamine screeched as she fell to her knees, calling for her husband over and over until it sounded like anything but a name. The love of her life was gone in an instant, their children left without a father. They founded the Aether Foundation together, yet the work Mohn had dedicated himself to betrayed him. It wasn’t fair.

This was all that ran through Lusamine’s broken mind when she screamed and pounded on the floor. Wicke and Faba had burst in to find her beating the tile until her hands were bloody. Neither of them could ever erase their boss’s shattered voice from memory.

They’d tried to lift her from the floor so she’d stop harming herself, but Lusamine refused to be moved. Each time Faba and Wicke pulled her up, Lusamine crumbled back down. Eventually, they dropped to either side of Lusamine, stroking her back and waiting for her to explain what had occurred.

The two employees, though very different, met each other’s gaze with the same look of concern as they comforted their sobbing, shaking superior. They were so caught up in Lusamine’s meltdown that they failed to realize that their other boss was nowhere to be found.

The wings of a grounded angel cascaded one by one, abandoning the once seemingly perfect being. Lusamine was crumbling, cracking and crying until her wings were eventually ripped from her back.

She snapped, stripped of all that made her desirable. While her pretty face remained intact, her interior was corrupted. She was still beautiful to the eye but her soul was made ugly, twisted and distorted to the point of obscurity.

Most abandoned her, just as she abandoned kind motives. Ripping it out, taking a bite then stomping on it, Lusamine discarded her broken heart, blackened and useless and slowing her down.

The few who stood by Lusamine were employees, and most feared her. Those with any power within Lusamine’s ranks respected her for the panic she instilled in others, as if she did so by reaching into one’s chest and applying the pressure directly onto their heart.

Faba was one of those who idolized her. The Branch Director had always hungered for authority, and Lusamine was ripe with it from the start. Before, she ruled through inspiration, which is admirable in its own way, but Lusamine’s shift to an iron fist left Faba with no complaints.

How could he mind it? After all, Faba may be sneaky and influential when need be, but such magnificent brute strength was quite a sight to behold. He respected Lusamine before because he had to, given his position underneath her.

Then, like how most had been before her change, Faba was drawn to Lusamine like a marveled moth knowing flying into an unsympathetic flame. Lusamine didn’t simply fall apart when her husband was snatched from her grasp despite how easy it would’ve been.

No, Lusamine toughened up and got to work, doing whatever she could to get him back while crushing those that dared to slow her down. That’s the type of person Faba can proudly state his allegiance to, unlike the soft-hearted pushover Lusamine had once been.

On the other hand, Wicke was one of the few who was neither terrorized or in awe of Lusamine. Wicke attempted to replicate her boss’ once tranquil presence. Sure, the atmosphere she paraded around each floor of the foundation was warm and healing and gentle.

Wicke may have been a descendant of fae at most, her marvelous qualities stemming from mythical origins, but Lusamine was a goddamn angel. At least, she had been an angel, once.

Regardless, Wicke could never compare to the deity among men Lusamine had been, and in a way still is. Her soul was tainted, yes, painted black by bitterness and despair. While no longer a heart of heaven, a demon is still deserving of awe when compared to the mediocrity that is mankind.

All in all, she didn’t let herself latch onto what anyone else thought of her anymore: she didn’t need their opinions to get her husband back. Mohn needed her objective and alert; anything else was unnecessary. Nevertheless, a low growl always toppled out Lusamine’s lips when she spotted Wicke offering someone a hug, advice, or a shoulder to cry on.

Lusamine may’ve left all that behind, but seeing someone essentially replace you isn’t the greatest feeling. Not to mention when that replacement is less than subpar, though it’s not fair to Wicke to say so. After all, there’s no comparison between a queen and a goddess.

Lusamine thought, at the very least, she’d have Gladion and Lillie. Her sweet, obedient children would comfort her, praise and admire her as she spent every waking minute on saving Mohn.

They were supposed to keep her somewhat sane, grounded enough to focus. Instead, they betrayed her as well, tossing Lusamine aside when her halo shattered, the pieces contorting into horns. Thorns sprouted out of her stem, pricking those who once found peace in her embrace.

Fine, Lusamine didn’t need them. She didn’t need anybody! Her studies of the Ultra Beasts and their wormholes were finally bearing fruit after about a decade. One way or another, Lusamine’s quest to locate Mohn would soon come to an end.

Returning to consciousness, the scientist cracks her eyes open. She immediately regrets it. Not only is the sight of anything but blackness agonizing, but the room is drenched in absolute white.

The overbearing amount of it blinds Lusamine, and she groans through the oncoming pain thundering in her skull. Squeezing her eyes shut for half a minute, she tries again, though with more caution. At least she’s prepared for the searing sensation that’s to come.

Lusamine anticipates the unavoidable pain from her brilliant environment, but she’s an intellectual. The throbbing need to know the details of her situation outweighs the desire to fall back into a kinder, oblivious unconsciousness.

Her curiosity burns much as her assaulted irises. She gnaws on her lip through the pain as Lusamine attempts to raise her eyelids further bit by bit.

Fingers claw at the material beneath them. Thin cloth curls under her intense grip, though the odd texture peeks her already raging curiosity. Uncurling her fingers, Lusamine runs her hand over the fabric.

Gritting her teeth, she lowers her gaze away from what’s directly in front of her to the bed. It’s a specific type, one that Lusamine hasn’t experienced since…

Since childbirth. Lusamine manages to open her eyes fully, brow furrowed as she gapes at the hospital bed. She can’t help the immediate disdain that sours her mouth when she spots her hideous paper bag of a gown. Why…is she here? What happened to her?

Lusamine’s unforgiving headache punishes her soon as she tries to recall any recent memories. Using any extra brain power isn’t worth the agony, so she returns to her original quest: analyze her surroundings.

The bed and thin, teal gown give away where she is, but she’s desperate for more information when left with so little outside of that. Peeping from under her eyelashes, Lusamine notes the expected: white sheets, white walls, white furniture.

The room is pure as her angel wings had once been. Although, the white of the room portrays anything but purity. It’s more of a lack of color, devoid of passion, joy, and life itself.

Dull and soul-sucking and somehow so bleak in its blankness. Lusamine’s weakened state has made her even paler, almost ghost like as she blends into the monotonous background.

At the same time it’s bright, scorching Lusamine’s eyes, existing as the opposite of oblivion. It empowers the hammering within her head to stare anywhere and at anything in the room.

The paint gleams as rays of the sun exacerbate its shine, protruding through a window that consists of almost the entire back wall. Lusamine can barely take it any longer, eyes watering as they cry out for her to show them mercy by shutting them, but she doesn’t.

The tears streaming down her face don’t stop her. Her blurred vision manages to pick up the IV embedded in her left arm, and the outlines of contrasting items on the bedside table to her right. The shapes become more clear after Lusamine sets her gaze on the stark objects, willing her mind to settle and focus.

Several more seconds allow her to make out the assortment of flowers, stuffed Pokemon and cards piled atop the small table. Leaning towards them, Lusamine finds that a few have even fallen onto the ivory tiles due to the little space and the sheer amount of trinkets awaiting her upon waking.

Her stare is blank as she reaches for a toy Teddiursa. Lusamine drops it onto her lap, gaze flickering up and down the one of many similar get well gifts.

Get well from what, Lusamine wonders, though a sharp pain in her skull cuts off that thought train. She clutches the soft, eternally smiling bear tighter and tighter like a lifeline. Fingers threaten to strangle it, grip demanding answers that she’s unable to ponder on her own.

Propping it beside her, Lusamine ignores the few other knick knacks on the floor and grabs one of the cards off the countertop. An elementary poem about the strength behind recovery is printed inside, along with the names of several Aether Foundation employees on every inch.

They’re not many in the mess that she recognizes, but there’s enough that she realizes that these are the lowest ranking peoples in the branch. So they couldn’t even bother to buy separate cards…

Lusamine snatches another from the table, finding a similar set of stanzas inside. Although, unlike the previous card, this one is less than twenty signatures. Faba’s cursive and Wicke’s blocky handwriting with a heart instead of a dot on the ‘i’ are found underneath the printed text.

She doesn’t spare it a second glance as she grabs one more card. Her eyes are dull, unsuspecting when Lusamine opens it, doing so just to pass the time and sate her incensed curiosity.

What Lusamine finds wracks her already disheveled mind. A sharp inhale burns her dry throat. Inside is a polaroid picture of Lillie and Gladion smiling shoulder to shoulder, along with sweet messages and their signatures underneath.

It all comes crashing back into her in a single wave. Memories of the Ultra Beasts, being merged with one, Lillie’s distraught expression as she begged her mother to stop. Somehow, what sticks out most of all is her daughter’s defiance, the determination behind her hardened green eyes, her mother’s matching eyes.

Lusamine drags a hand across her face, tears forming again. Despite the rivers flowing down her cheeks, Lusamine can’t pinpoint why she’s suddenly so overwhelmed. Grief over what she’d become and the people she pushed away in the process.

Shame from letting herself be blinded by her search for Mohn that she disregarded the legacy they shared as husband and wife, their precious children. Longing to embrace her babies, knowing how much they’ve suffered.

Lusamine lost her husband, but because of her distorted desperation to be reunited with him, Lillie and Gladion lost both their parents.

They seem to have forgiven her last Lusamine can remember. However, being able to forgive herself is a whole other venture.

What wonderful children they’ve become without her. They’re kind enough to give a monster like Lusamine a second chance even when she believes herself beyond redemption.

“When did you both become so beautiful?”

Maybe if Lillie and Gladion see something worth saving in Lusamine, it just might be plausible. With a small smile, she raises the picture to her lips, kissing both of her babies’ static foreheads.

“Maybe I can be beautiful again…”

#pokemon #zine #lillie pokemon #gladion #lusamine #pkmn #pokemon wicke #faba pokemon #aether foundation #zine piece

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