#and it's the opposite for the Glaives

[altrxisme]

//

[aureus2010]

so i found @tissmys PHIGHTOCtober. and uh i might be abandoning phightober for the oc version because Why Not!

day one - introduce your ocs!

apparently ive never drawn them in their blocky forms so i decided hey why not its easier

more oc info in tags btw

prompt list under cut:

cannot guarantee ill be here every day but ill do my best i guess lmao

[hawkinasock]

Yanqing is just the subject of a aeon tug of war game he didn’t even sign up for someone save him

Also would love to hear more about your thoughts on Jing Yuan and his whole thought process on the Hunt/Abundance and Abundance!Yanqing in general

Poor kid can't catch a break man... Don't ask for help from me, though. I'll just make it worse lmao.

Prepare for another yapping session, because there is so much I have to say about Jing Yuan when it comes to this theory.

Firstly, while I've said before that Jing Yuan is aware of Yanqing's status, that doesn't mean he knows the full story. As far as he's aware, Yanqing is either a human that the disciples had gotten their hands on at one point or a unique type of Abomination that is almost entirely indiscernible from any other human. He doesn't know the extent of his origins, his relationship with Yaoshi, he isn't even confident in the full potential of Yanqing's power.

That aside, something about him made Jing Yuan unable or unwilling to go through with killing him, and when he made the decision to keep Yanqing alive, took it upon himself to raise him rather than leave him to an orphanage, keeping the secret under wraps. Maybe there was something about that baby that lit a spark in him. Maybe when he looked to what should be a monster and saw an innocent child who didn't understand what was going on, didn't know what he was or why Jing Yuan held that glaive, it would be monstrous of him to snuff out that life. Maybe he only became aware of Yanqing's status after the fact, but by that point was too attached to ever even consider telling anyone.

Whatever the circumstances were, in Jing Yuan's eyes, Yanqing is far more valuable to him than anything else. Even his loyalty to the Alliance, whom he has sworn loyalty since his youth became expendable the moment he held that little infant in his arms for the first time. He would be content taking on the label of a traitor so long as it meant keeping his son alive.

In terms of the aeons, there's no implications that Jing Yuan feels any sort of respect for Yaoshi or the Abundance as a whole, it's definitely the opposite, in fact. The overall consensus is that he remains loyal to the Xianzhou and their designated aeon, it just comes down to his own hypocrisy and apparent double standards. He's slain countless abominations, but not only did he spare the life of one, he brought it into his home and gave it one of the highest ranks on the Luofu.

Huaiyan was wrong. At one point, Jing Yuan's loyalty not only wavered but crumbled. He knows he won't make it out of this unpunished; soon the lie will stretch too thin, and it's only a matter of time until it all comes back to bite him. But so long as Yanqing is okay, so long as he's alive, then Jing Yuan is content with that outcome.

[howtofightwrite]

What are the battle tactics for combatants where individual soldiers could fly on their own power naturally? (like wings and such). I assume it won't be "land battle, but in air". What are a good weapon for winged soldiers to arm themselves with? And what would be a logical countermeasures against these flying fighters?

So there's a lot of elements here, and there's probably some physiological issues that make this less appealing than it may initially appear.

The significant advantage is probably in hit and run tactics. Flying soldiers would be an excellent skirmisher option. Able to move in without significant opposition and harass enemy units behind the front lines. Either allowing them to pick at the enemy's flanks or assaulting archers and artillery. They might be able to tie up the enemy's command, and severely limit their foes' ability to manage their own forces. Just the sheer mobility would make them difficult to deal with, and priority targets.

Weapons would vary depending on role, but ranged weapons and polearms are probably the best options, both for the flying troops, and then also the best countermeasures. Polearms would let them attack without getting into direct melee. This might be spears, or it could be glaives, halberds, poleaxes, and basically anything else. Billhooks could be pretty nasty, if they wanted to grab enemies on the ground and lift them up (assuming that's an option.)

Of course all of these considerations also apply against them. Polearms mean they can be struck and dragged down even while they're trying to stay out of reach. Ranged weapons are going to be highly effective in situations where they have no cover. An arrow through the wing will bring one down immediately, possibly seriously injuring them or killing them from the fall. Bolos, or bolo launchers of some design might also be a good idea for tangling and incapacitating the flying soldiers. Similarly, some kind of net launcher might be a very viable way for getting these guys out of the sky. However, ranged weapons in general are likely to be highly effective for one very specific reason: They (probably) can't armor their wings, and their wings will be large targets. Their wings also mean they can't pack together tightly.

With birds and other naturally flying animals, the more it weighs the larger the wings need to be. This is part of why birds have hollow bone structures. Their bones keep their weight down and allow them to fly with significantly smaller wings than they'd need if they had the same bone structure as a mammal. This means that bird people would likely be more vulnerable to violence. Either because their bones would be far more fragile in combat, because their wings would make for massive targets, or both. Now, it's likely their wings would be able to lift far more than their own weight, but the more weight they carry the more that would exhaust them, and especially weight on the wings would be tiring. (Assuming that they can armor them at all without losing their aerodynamics.) This is why your bird warriors would make better skirmishers than front line infantry, and a force comprised entirely of bird warriors would suffer from having a very fragile front line. In that case, they would be better off adopting a warfare doctrine of harassment and hit and run tactics, where they deplete enemy forces without ever committing to conventional battles. Getting into straight up fights would result in devastating losses, especially against shock tactics or heavy infantry forces. It's worth remembering that even their heaviest armor is probably going to be much lighter than the heavy armor their foes can deploy with.

When presented with a phalanx, your bird warrior's best option might just be drop rocks on them. Which might sound funny, until you consider the prospect of someone dropping 20lb stones from the sky.

There's also a weird strategic element here. Your flying soldiers (and presumably) the rest of their society could, simply, inhabit areas that are impossible to besiege, or potentially even impossible to access as part of a normal infantry campaign. If you have a settlement or outpost located up on a high peak, with no footpaths up, and any invading force would need to either fly up or climb sheer rock walls, that's going to be very difficult (if not impossible) to assault. Similarly, your bird warriors probably wouldn't need to worry about laying siege at all. They can just fly over enemy fortifications, and get to the important task of dropping limestone brickwork on their enemies, and grabbing high-value targets, taking them for an impromptu sightseeing trip, and dropping them off a little too far above the ground. These guys could be a real handful to deal with. Either as irregular forces mixed in with an enemy army, or just acting on their own, and any group dealing with them would need to seriously reconsider their fortification designs.

-Starke

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[sanvirtheobserver]

Taking Flight, Chapter 51: Now Hiring

The afternoon sun bears down as Tari and Pomni face each other in the courtyard, both standing on the opposite ends of a large circle drawn on the ground. From the sidelines we see Meggy, Mario, Ragatha, and Shiro cheering them on as they both steel themselves for what comes next.

Ragatha: Alright, let's keep this simple. First one to knock the other out of the ring wins.

Tari's Glaive blinks into her palm with a shower of blue sparks. In her offhand, a blue ball of flame ignites as her gauntlet forms.

Tari: Just as we practiced. You ready?

Pomni: You kidding?

A pair of prisms begin to form around Pomni hands, creating a formittable set of gauntlets. She clashes the knuckles together with a crystaline spark.

Pomni: I've been waiting all week to test these out!

The air crackles with anticipation as Shiro raises his hand into the air.

Shiro: FIGHTERS READY!

Meggy: Give it all you got, Tari!

Shiro: THREE........

Ragatha: I believe in you, Pomni!

Shiro: TWO.......

Mario: Can I have a hotdog please?

Shiro: ONE.......

SMG3: LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, MAY I HAVE YOUR ATTENTION PLEASE?

Anticipation gives way to confusion as they all turn to SMG3 flashing the biggest smile on his face.

Clench: Dude, really?

Meggy: Ugh. This better be important, Three.

SMG3: Oh, it is! With the success of the Café (and our "supplementary" financial efforts) I have been working on the next big step for the past week and am proud to present said next big step to all of you. FOLLOW ME!

Pomni and Tari just shrug. It seems as though their sparring session will have to wait. The group now stands before the result of SMG3's weeklong project. The building itself looked noticeably larger. Two single-story extensions on each side and a three story extension at the back form a "throne" around the central Café. A new name now sits atop the massive bomb prop on its roof.

SMG3: Welcome........to THREE'S LUSTROUS LAIR!!!!

The group now seems at least somewhat interested in what SMG3 has to say as they step inside. Everything feels so much bigger now. To the sides of the Café counter we now have a fancy diner and kitchen to the right, and to the left we have a pub setup with a drink bar. And of course, you can't forget the barrels of plushies and the racks of various weapons he has for sale.

SMG3: This marvelous venture now provides much greater amenities that'll help expand upon my brand. Along with our signature Coffee and Bombs, we now have a Devious Diner for lunch and dinner, and there's always the option of happy hour specials for the "legally" ambitious over at the Graveyard Shift Bar.

Mario: OH, does that mean you make.......?

SMG3: *sigh* Yes Mario, we now serve Spaghetti.

Mario: YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!

Tari: Hm..........

SMG3: What? Too impressed to speak?

Meggy: As impressive as it is......... this place seems awfully big for one guy to run. Especially since he's usually out gallavanting for ill gotten gains.

Tari: Yeah, you aren't exploiting those poor Echidnas again, are you?

SMG3: Oh god no! I'd never do such a thing to Terrance's friends and family! Besides, I'm not necessarily alone on this one. While I am still the boss, it's about time I had a more efficient system for running this place. A new manager will help things run a little more smoothly.

The rumbling of engines can be heard at the back of the complex.

SMG3: Oh! That must be the crew coming back with our new employees!

He heads over to the back door and leads the way into the back of the complex. The first floor appears to be a workshop, complete with a working forge, several worktables, and a variety of machines meant for maintenance and construction. The second floor is a lounging area with a large projector screen and............ a double decker couch. Awesome. There's also a small bar that Rob is currently tending to.

Rob: Corn Colada?

The top floor is where things get interesting. SMG3 flips a switch and a large gate opens in the back of the building, revealing a custom made Airship dock. A bridge unfolds onto the ship's top deck where several new faces are waiting. One was a mighty tall Boo Woman in a seafoam green dress, with a much smaller Boo in a green vest and hat by her side. A pair of blue-in-black eyes peer from beneath her wide brimmed hat as she makes her way across the bridge where SMG3 is waiting. She was quite the imposing presence as she looked down upon the crew before her.

SMG3: Everyone please give a bow for Mrs. Martha Mildenhall. Pleasure to have you here, ma'am.

Martha: The Pleasure is all mine, Mr. Three. And you must be his....... companions. I must say you are quite the colorful bunch.

Mario: Are you calling Mario gay?

Meggy pulls his hat down over his head to shut him up.

Tari: It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Mildenhall.

Martha: Oh please, call me Martha.

Three more figures make their way across the bridge. Two young women and one young man. They looked like triplets, all bearing the same pale skin tone, ivory white hair, radiant yellow eyes, and thin arrowtipped tails. There was also these circlets on their heads bearing a set of glowing bulbs, as well as these metallic talon-like arms and legs. The boy dawned a pilot's jacket and hat with a pair of cargo pants. One girl wore a blouse with a variety of pens in its pockets, and her hair was tied into two neat pigtails. The other wore a winter coat that extended all the way down to her calfs, with most of her face obscured by a collar that covers her mouth and nose.

Martha: And these are my three little helpers. Why don't you introduce yourselves.

The young man came first. He was positively BEAMING as he greeted the crew with a salute.

???? Salutations new neighbors! My name is Noah, and I'm THRILLED to be working here with you guys! Over here is my antisocial sister Vale.......

The sister with the coat just waves.

Noah: ........and over here is my beloved big sis Julia!

The sister with the pigtails does her best to look presentable.

Julia: Ready to serve.

Tari: What about her?

She points towards one more figure making its way across the bridge. She had all the same traits shared among the other three, but appeared much younger with a maid's dress and bonet. She ignores the crowd and rushes straight to Noah's side.

Noah: Oh, Hey there, Cyn. Didn't think you wanted to come out.

SMG3: Now, if you would follow me, I'd LOVE to give you a tour of our newly refurbished establishment.

SMG3 and Martha head back down to the Café, leaving the rest of the group with the siblings.

Pomni: So......... um........., I was gonna say I like......... whatever it is you have going on here.

Noah cocks his head in confusion.

Meggy: I think she's talking about your look, like the circlets.

Noah: Oh, this little thing? It's actually an auxiliary optics array, but thank you for noticing.

Pomni: Then there's your matching gloves and boots........ wait, is that a knife?

He looks down and notices the switchblade-like claw hinged between his knuckles.

Noah: Oh! I'm so sorry about that.

He quickly and hurriedly folds it back into his hand with a nervous smile.

Noah: The hinges get loose sometimes.

Tari: Are those......... prosthetics?

Noah: Well, yeah. It's......... it's a long story.

She can notice the somber look in his eyes as he says that, same as the other two.

Tari: I'm sorry. I didn't mean to strike any nerves.

Noah: Oh no no no no no. It's fine. Just.......... um.....

Julia: We should get going. We're likely overdue for orientation.

Noah: Right! What She said.

And so the four head downstairs for their "orientation," leaving the rest of the group in the hangar.

Pomni: Well they were certainly....... interesting.

[celestialholz]

Today in meta: Mister Milquetoast himself.

Hassel, Brassius, if you could stay in your lovely lawnside Artazon house for TEN DAMN MINUTES whilst I talk about someone else, I'd appreciate that. Love you kings, stay gay, I'll be back for you real soon. <3

Instead, it's the Celestial meta debut of this bitch!

You know him, you love him, it's Larry, and I wish to strip him down to his ATOMS he's so interesting, but I'm going to start simple: birds. The dichotomy of birds.

Let's take a peek at his Elite Four squad - I'm not going to analyse the gym one, because it's half a team, but you'll see that it matters anyway in a minute.

This is his lovely team:

Now, you probably know what I've said before about the penultimate slot in a full team, and especially Hassel's - how it's meant to represent the heart and personality of the trainer. And that rings perfectly true for our favourite salaryman, too, if we take a look at Staraptor's Scarlet dex entry:

That's Larry, solitary and resilient against whatever the world throws at him. And of course, Staraptor is Normal/Flying, both of Larry's specialties. Even the Intimidate ability is relevant, as according to his official bio on the Pokemon website, Larry becomes 'unsettlingly still whenever he is lost in thought, much to the worry of people nearby.'

... But what intrigues me is the ace switch between teams. What was Staraptor's slot in the gym is now replaced with Flamigo - a lovely representation for Staraptor in that penultimate slot, certainly, but the birds themselves are a world apart.

If we take a quick glance at Flamigo here...

... We see that he is the entire opposite of Staraptor - he only flourishes in a group. And we see that in Larry, too - as lone wolf as he is, when does he truly come alive, hit his peak of battling strength? When he's surrounded by others - when the crowd gathers for his gym battle towards its conclusion, when Rika and Poppy watch on and support him in the Elite Four.

And so, pasting all this together, if the penultimate slot in the party is the heart of the trainer, what does that make the ace?

Potential; what the trainer could be... for better, or for worse.

If we take the examples I used before in the meta I linked above, of champions:

Cynthia's ace is the ultimate in trainer nightmare fuel, Garchomp. Without the goodness in her heart, without her academic curiosity for the ancient past being channelled into research... well, we know what happens. It's this fucker.

Cynthia has the potential to be this guy, and I think we're all pretty fucking thankful that she isn't...

Wallace's ace is a Milotic. Said to be the 'most beautiful of all Pokemon', and able to calm violence simply by its presence, Wallace without a League structure would be a Contest master, which is something he also excels at: and he's got the perfect pal to do it with. He values physical beauty, exuberance, and charm, it'd be a simple switch.

Steven's ace is a Metagross. Destined as he is to take over the Devon Corporation when his father eventually retires, without his battle prowess and fascination for fossils, in another life he'd run the technology company with quick intellect and good business sense.

Even in the very League Larry is part of, this checks. Poppy's is Tinkaton - a little girl, vastly too powerful for her size, has the potential to be an utter nightmare of a child without having an outlet for her strength; Hassel's Baxcalibur is him without Brassius - partly the emotional distance of Ice, and part the heritage of Dragons. It's no coincidence that Bax's signature move Glaive Rush bounces double damage back to itself the turn after - a deeply appropriate sentiment for the man who feels too much.

... And so, where does that leave us with Larry?

It leaves us with a man wearing a facade - unsurprising, when he gives you the TM for it. It leaves us with a man whose genius and vibrance is swallowed by corporate life, who actually LOVES the thrill of being cheered on. It leaves us with a man wants to overcome his own weakness, a man who wishes to Fight AND to Fly... it leaves us with a man whose ace has Scrappy, which will allow him to strike Ghosts - something his 'normal' team can't do. It leaves us with a showman, and...

... it leaves us kinda sad, really. This man is the only character in the series who has managed to master two separate types, and it's for the worst of reasons, but... we do see those glimmers of brilliance, and we do see a Terastillised Flamigo - a Pokemon known for silly movements and power, much like his masterful trainer with the very silly throw, who is now pure Flying.

Pay attention, Larry dear. Maybe you too can soar. <3

[another-lost-mc]

I curious about what is Michael looks in your opinion? 🤔🤔

His appearance is supposedly the "opposite" of Lucifer's. I have no idea if they'll stick to that if they ever release official artwork of his character, but when I picture/write about him, I tend to use these headcanons:

a person of colour

a little shorter than Lucifer

more broad/muscular (like Beel)

has a little bit of a tummy

long blonde or light-brown hair that he wears loose or tied back

golden or ivory feathers

wears intricate robes for daily wear

skilled with multiple types of weapons but prefers to use a glaive or sword and shield

I can't draw and Picrew's skin colour/body type diversity is a bit limited, but this what I imagine in terms of hair/facial features:

[grand-theft-carbohydrates]

last day at the battle of red cliffs, and i am the coalition's top general in charge of the land assault. it is eerily quiet in the mountains, an easterly wind blows hard and cold. the skies over the river glow pink, like the blooms of a peach orchard in spring, but the sight brings me no joy, for i know it is fire that stains the heavens. tonight the red cliffs are ablaze with burning ships. the rivers run with the blood of brave men. after so many years of bitter fighting, we have finally struck a decisive blow against the Usurper and halted his war of conquest. tonight we emerge victorious from the quagmire, but my heart grows heavy at the cost.

Glaive in hand and sitting astride my steed, I lead five hundred crack troops towards the narrow mountain pass of Huarong Road, racing to cut off the Usurper's escape. the people say he is a vicious monster whose hunger knows no bounds. They are wrong. He is just a man, capable of love and honour--and is all the more dangerous for it. you cannot call a typhoon or earthquake evil, but it does not make it any less destructive.

I had tried to help him, once upon a time, but some men cannot be changed, only stopped. there will be no peace as long as he draws breath. the war must end here. he must end here. We might have been allies once, almost friends, two beans side-by-side in the same pod, but I will put aside our shared history for the sake of duty, bitter though it may be. I have sworn a sacred oath to my Liege Lord and Elder Brother, I will only live and die by his side.

hark! the enemy approaches. i order my men into formation and ride out to meet them. a tiger is most dangerous when it's teeth are broken. i must show no weakness or he will eat my heart.

an old man on a lame horse rides out to meet me.

"I trust you've been well, General, since we've last met," the Usurper croaks, swaying unsteadily on his saddle, and then; "might i trouble you for a drink of water?"

he bares his teeth in a rictus of a smile. while he has never been handsome, he had at least been stately, now exhaustion and desperation have robbed him of even that.

his soldiers fall to their knees at the sight of me, weeping and trembling piteously. I ride through a sea of haggard, mud-covered faces. half the men don't have saddles, most don't have weapons, one is, rather absurdly, clutching a clay cooking pot--none of them look capable of putting up a fight. all look ready to drop dead.

once upon a time, a foolish, kindly man found a snake on the ground, frozen and half-dead...

i give the Usurper my water-gourd. his hands are shaking, so I take it back and unstopper it for him. it is for the sake of expediency. our hands do not touch. i had half-suspected he might have been stalling for time, but the gourd is empty when he hands it back.

"I often dreamed of you, Yunchang--" he hiccups, and then continues in the strong, resonant voice i know so well, his words amplified by the stone walls, "we'd sit under the trees and drink a toast, for old times sake. How the years have flown. it is the greatest tragedy of my life that we are doomed to be on opposite sides of the battlefield, never crossing paths except to exchange blows. Oh, woe, to be dealt such a hand by fate. To be seperated from the man you desire most." To be continued

notes:

ok! so in the middle of cao cao's Yackey Sack Chase Scene he stops and lets his men cook dinner...which implies that at least ONE guy was carrying a fucking pot with him. one of those heavy as shit honest to god terracotta pots. up and down hills while running for his life. i respect NO ONE except Random Wei Soldier and his pot. this man is my spiritual brother.

watch 2010 san guo tv show. that is all.

[a-world-in-grey]

Sola/Little Nox Dissidia au

@raven-6-10 @secret-engima

The promised trainwreck under the cut!

The Citadel's been a wreck of tension ever since Spitfire and the prince went missing. Abyssus yowling fit to wake the dead brought the on-duty glaives running to find Sola's bed empty, phone still on her bedside table and all her shoes still in her closet, all signs pointing to an unwilling departure despite a clear absence of any sign of a struggle.

They'd raised the alarm, checking on the rest of the royal family and their retinue-

-and found Prince Noctis' bed as empty as his sister's.

Then, while Citadel security was swarming like a kicked anthill, spearheaded by a blackly furious Marshal and King's Shield looking for their godschildren, those guarding the Crystal had sounded the alarm.

Which is when they'd found their missing royals, via the Crystal putting out a hologram of the two like something from a bad science fiction movie.

Tredd hasn't gotten a decent night's sleep in four days.

If it's not the palpable worry radiating from the King racking up the tension, then it's the fact that the royal children have been summoned to a desolate world to participate in what's essentially a glorified death match on opposite teams, during which Prince Noctis is in nothing but his pajamas.

No one is ever again calling Sola's insistence on keeping her deployment bags in her armiger frivolous.

Though, if Tredd has to be completely honest, Sola's younger brother's lack  of proper attire is only a fraction of what's causing the tension. No, the bulk of it goes to Spitfire's newest Uncle and now youngest brother. The once-Chancellor of Niflheim and Captain's kid. Captain's kid who's apparently the Crown Prince's clone, created from a sample Niflheim stole how knows how many years back.

Luche had dipped out to make a phone call to Axis, because those are Arra braids in Ardyn and Nox's hair, and Axis had completely neglected to mention that his recent adoptees were Lucis Caelums, leaving Tredd to watch Axis' clansmen on this fucked-up version of reality TV.

Nyx has been teaching Spitfire the Ulric Dance ever since her Rage a few months back clued them all into the fact that Spitfire's as Sky-born as anyone can get without being an actual dragon - and seriously, Tredd is this close to shaking Nyx, the idiot needs to adopt her already, for Ramuh's sake - so he's in the room whenever he's not sleeping. Which means Libertus is also here, making sure Nyx does take the time to sleep because the last thing any of them need is the twitchy Ulric doing something Dumb, aided by Abyssus literally carrying Nyx out of the room when it's time to catch some shut eye.

Crowe's anxiously watching her girlfriend fight off various monsters and champions, fingers plucking at the rubber band Crowe's worn on her wrist ever since the Burning. This hadn't been how Sola and Crowe had wanted Sola's family to find out about that particular relationship, but Crowe had adamantly refused to be barred from the room for a second until Sola came back.

Luche, like Tredd, is there as Axis' braided brother, leaving the rest of the Fourth Regiment to attend in shifts depending who's on break, with Pelagia and her Third Regiment counterpart running everything because Captain is also busy watching this clusterfuck.

The Marshal's not left since the whole thing started - has he even slept? - but the King and Shield have to leave for short periods to make token appearances lest the entire country learn the royal children have disappeared into the ether. Gladiolus and Ignis have to be forced out of the room for their studies, which has apparently resulted in temper tantrums worthy of a Raging Sola, but the two young teens have yet to convince the King, Shield, or Marshal otherwise so the process repeats every day without fail.

Sola latching on to her new uncle and brother isn't a surprise. She's Sky-born, they do that. Especially because for all that the ex-Chancellor is clearly missing more than a few lines to his sails, he equally as clearly cares for and is protective of his niece and nephews, despite his distaste for Regis and Mors.

Were it not for the danger to her brothers, Sola would probably be having fun. The chance to cut loose against other skilled fighters? No one looming over her shoulder, scrutinizing her every action and deeming anything not up to their standards as 'monstruous'? Sola would have loved that in any other scenario.

But Spitfire has two brothers to protect, and Tredd swears under his breath when Sola assigns herself to Noctis and Nox's guard team, instead letting Ardyn join the strike team. The self-sacrificing dumbass.

"Care to explain that?"

Whoops.

Tredd cringes away from the Marshal's displeasure, silently thanking the Storm-Father that the King and Lord Amicitia are off in an unavoidable meeting with one of the Councilors.

"Sola is better suited on the strike team, sir." Luche says politely, before Tredd can stick his foot further in his mouth. "She's not usually charged with guard duties in the field."

The Marshal eyes them both severely. "Izunia is stronger than Sola." He says sourly. The revelation of the former Chancellor's heritage and all it's unpleasant implications hasn't been fun for anyone. "He can take a smaller strike team, freeing more people to guard Noctis and Nox." Unsaid is the fact that neither Sola nor Ardyn will leave the princes alone with strangers.

"Yes, sir." Luche demurs. That had been the argument Sola used to convince Ardyn.

(Tredd hadn't thought anyone could be more protective than Sola of her brothers, but Ardyn has her beat by a mile. Ifrit have mercy on whoever tries to harm either of the princes in the future, because Sola and Ardyn sure as Pyre won't, and Tredd doubts there'll be enough of the moron in question afterwards to scatter their ashes.)

Tactically, the assignments have merit. As Tredd exchanges a glance with an equally grim-faced Luche, he knows tactics aren't what they - or any of the glaives - are worried about.

Spitfire doesn't do defense. It's not a matter of skill. Tredd wouldn't be worried if it was, skill they can compensate for.

No, the issue is that Sola's a damn dragon of a Sword. Her first, second, and third instinct when dealing with threats is to kill it. She can't do that on defense - her priority has to be Noctis and Nox's safety, even if it means letting her target escape.

It's not impossible. Not when she's got help.

And yet Tredd can't shake the feeling that this isn't going to end any way but badly.

.

Tredd's right.

Two days later, everything goes to Ifrit's Pyre in a gift basket.

The strike team is away, trying to complete whatever the objective is that will send them all home.

(Ardyn is a force of destruction to contend with, tearing through enemies like they're tissue paper, making the King pale with an anguished epiphany he refused to share.)

The ambush catches everyone off guard. The strange dragon-like creatures swarm the protective detail. The healers push Nox and Noctis behind them, the champions better suited for close quarters combat struggling to keep the creatures off their more vulnerable companions.

In the commotion, Tredd doesn't see what sparks it, but he sure as Pyre sees when Spitfire loses it.

A low snarl rips from her throat, gaze and focus narrowing down on the threat in front of her.

Crowe swears. "Pyre-damn it all, someone back her up-"

But none of the other champions are watching Sola's back. They're too busy with their own battles, too busy keeping the kids safe. They don’t notice how Spitfire's been drawn away from the rest of the group, don't see the blind spot left vulnerable without a glaive or Abyssus there to cover her.

If Sola's family hadn’t known before, they've sure as Pyre realized it now. It's impossible to miss the glaives' reactions - Luche's grim certainty, Libertus' hand a physical restraint on Nyx's shoulder, Nyx's hands clenching and unclenching as he resists the useless instinct to grab his kukris and throw, Crowe's snarling at people who cannot hear, the way every muscle in Tredd's frame coils as he fights off the Fury rising like a wave-

-and crests, as Spitfire staggers, the attack she doesn't see ripping through her. Magic erupts throughout the room as Sola's eyes widen and her face twists in an agonized cry that has no breath to voice.

Sola hits the ground, and Nox s c r e a m s.

Ghostly weapons tear through the remaining creatures, a constant stream of light and steel that is nothing like any armiger they've seen. Champions startle as weapons pass through them harmlessly only to shred the creatures around them, until nothing remains.

The healers rush to Sola's side, but even from here, Tredd can see that it's bad. Really bad - he doesn't know if Spitfire's going to make it even with three healers and her own regeneration trying to save her life.

There's another burst of magic and Ardyn arrives, terrified and protective - Nox's magic must have alerted him, but Tredd doesn't know what the ex-Chancellor can do that the healers can't, Lucis Caelum magic just doesn't heal…

Ardyn takes in Nox, boneless with exhaustion and sobbing in Noctis' hold. Noctis, trying to keep it together. The champions doing their best to shield them from where Sola is laying on the ground between the healers.

(None of them can see it in the blue of the Crystal's hologram, how Sola is too pale against the shock of red hair haloed around her face, nearly indistinguishable from the blood staining the grass.)

Something in Ardyn's spine steels. He strides forward, ignoring the champions' attempts to keep him back, shedding his upper layers before he kneels and gathers Sola against his bare chest.

(The scars hit Tredd like a sucker punch. They've all seen some gnarly scars, no one survived the Burning unscathed, but these… these are torture scars. Torture scars and death blows and the glowing sigil of the royal family that can't be anything other than a brand.)

(The King is white as a sheet. Tredd wants to throw up. Parents are supposed to support you, not… not this.)

(Six, no wonder Axis kept Ardyn and Nox's heritage a secret. That Ardyn is able to trust and care for any of his Kin is astounding.)

It's not until magic rises from Ardyn's skin that Tredd realized what's happening. That he realizes what the tint of the Crystal's magic had disguised. But he's seen Spitfire heal others dozens of times out in the field, he recognizes this shaping of magic, and Ardyn is so much stronger than Spitfire-

It doesn't make it any easier to watch as Ardyn's skin splits, his blooding pouring out to join Sola's painting the ground. Doesn't make it any easier to watch as his wounds close, Ardyn gasping and trembling from more than just pain as he curls over his healed but unconscious niece, even as Noctis and Nox barrel in to comfort him.

Tredd's almost relieved when the Marshal turns to them and demands, "What the fuck just happened?"

As one, every glaive turns to Nyx. He's the only Chief present, he's the only one who can make the decision to share Galahdian lore with Outsiders as he has been with Sola.

Nyx stares a few moments longer at Sola's too-still form, hands flexing. Finally, he turns to face the Marshal and the King, expression dark as a thunderstorm. "We call it the Draconian's Rage."

"We?" The King's eyes are sharp. Tredd thinks he sees something of the warrior the King must have been when he visited Galahd twenty years ago.

"Galahd. The Draconian and the Infernian weren't the only Astrals to Bless humans. The magic disappeared long before the time of the Founder, but we still Remember." Nyx glances back to where the healers are fussing over Sola and Ardyn and Nox. "You have the Draconian's Blessing. But the Draconian isn't human."

Nyx turns back to the King, storm-blue locking with armiger-blue. "The Astrals aren't human, and sometimes their Blessed aren't either."

The King's lips thin. "You're saying my daughter isn't human." Treading on dangerous ground - the King's never taken kindly to the rumors painting Sola a monster.

"Physically, she is." Nyx says, steady as the cliffs against the storm-swept tides. "In her soul? Her instincts? She's no more human than I am."

That startles the King. "You are-?"

"Ramuh's. Storm to Sola's Sky."

There were rumors that the Ulrics were Ramuh's Blessed. Coeurl-Kin. Shape-changers and Wind-Walkers and as Black as the storms in their souls.

Tredd never thought he'd hear the rumors confirmed. This is Clan History. Private Clan History only ever shared with Clan Allies. If that.

"We thought you knew." Tredd says, trying to buy some leeway for Nyx. Tredd can't reveal that he's also not-quite human. Not without his Chief's permission. He might be able to get away with telling Sola - it's only a matter of time before she joins the Clans - but King Regis? Tredd would be in serious trouble. "You have thousands of years of history. Family customs as unique as any of ours." Customs catering specifically to those non-human instincts, Tredd doesn't say.

Tredd suspected otherwise after Sola's Rage in HQ. Sola didn't know anything about her Rages, only that she'd get so angry she couldn't think beyond needing to kill something. She was terrified that she'd try to kill anyone near her, hence her retreating somewhere secluded until she could regain control over herself. When she'd come out of her Rage to find Nyx and Tredd at the end of her weapons, injured but otherwise in one piece, she'd been horrified that she might have tried to kill them.

She hadn't known that she wouldn't. That even in the deepest Rage, her instincts would recognize the difference between hers and threat. Sola would never harm an innocent bystander. Not on purpose. Not unless they provoked her first.

So Tredd had suspected. He didn't want to believe it - how could the Lucis Caelums not have any information of the Draconian's Blessed? He knows Mainlanders don't keep Tales like the Clans do, but they do keep records! Sola cannot be the first Lucis Caelum to be Skyborn!

But no. The royal family has no clue.

What a mess.

"What does that mean for Sola?" The Marshal asks while the King processes Nyx's revelation.

"She's protective." Crowe says. Tredd snorts at the understatement of the century. "She'll react violently to anything threatening her Claimed. Lethally, if she can - Skyborn don't like leaving threats alive to try again."

"Prince Noctis and Nox are her only vulnerable Claimed. Prince Nox has his uncle to protect and care for him, which will satisfy Sola's instincts." Because nothing short of an Astral will be able to get past Ardyn to harm Nox, and even then Tredd would still put his money on Ardyn. "But Sola's Sword to Prince Noctis, and the oldest and strongest of his Retinue. She's his primary protector. Not being allowed or able to kill anything threatening him will stress her instincts."

The Marshal grimaces, glancing at the King and Shield. Tredd wonders if he's thinking about how Sola came to join the Kingsglaive. She'd eventually told them the circumstances behind her joining their training, one night out on deployment. Knowing now that Sola's Skyborn, that was a really Stupid decision on the King's part, banning Sola from protecting her disabled brother. The King was lucky Sola didn't try to sneak out of Insomnia after them.

"When she's under a lot of stress, she'll lose her grasp of human language." Tredd tells them. Tredd's never had that happen to him, but he also knows that as far as Seaborn instincts go, his are fairly tame. Sola, unfortunately, is way out on the extreme end of the scale. "Sign language she can comprehend, and that empathic thing she does with her magic. She'll lose her words before she Rages, so if it's that bad don't bother talking to her. She won't hear it."

Another glance between Sola's relatives. Six, how many signs had they missed?

Tredd determinedly ignores it. "When she's Raging, either give her space to work through it or spar with her. Sola won't hold back, but she won't try to kill you. But if you need to step out of the fight, make it physically clear that you surrender. Weapons away, hands down and open, on your knees and throat bared if you have to."

The King frowns. "That seems… dangerous."

"Not with Sola." Nyx says before Tredd's temper leads him to say something snarky and unwise to the King. "She'll always recognize her own."

"Shit's starting up again." Luche suddenly says.

Everyone turns back to the Crystal, conversation tabled.

For now.

[northern-passage]

How would the ROs react if the mc knitted a scarf for them? 💕💕

hehehe the perfect gift for our friends stuck in the cold north...

Lea is an avid scarf wearer so this would be the perfect practical gift for them. they would accept it without much fanfare and thank you for the gift and then only later would the dawning horror hit them that You Made this For them. they would keep it somewhere safe and hold off on wearing it for a long time out of fear of ruining it.

Noel is the opposite - i've mentioned before that he's never really received any kind of actual gift from anyone, so he would be very touched and excited. then xe would wear it constantly until it gets so worn out it completely unravels, and then would find a way to keep using it still, maybe to wrap xir jewelry in or something - and if any of the loose threads fall off xe would wrap them around the handle of his glaive.

Merry is not much of a scarf person, but she would be very endeared by it - she has a lot of appreciation for handmade things like that, and would honestly be surprised you spent the time to make something just for her. she would keep it with her all the time as a little token, tucked in her bag, maybe eventually hang it up to display in her home... if she ever settles down....

Clementine would LOVE it and be very excited you are expressing yourself creatively. they are the one that tolerates the cold the least, and would wear it literally all the time, wrapping it around their ears or hands. but they mainly like to wear it like a little babushka

[blossom-adventures]

Kingsglaive Legends 2023! Organised by @calling4glaives

Day 2: AU & Life After (Feat. Luche & Nyx, Pelna, Crowe, Libertus and Drautos)

I’m classing this as an AU even though it will appear in my fic, because I am intending most of the Glaive to survive… so it’s kind of AU but most of the main plot of the game and film still happens

Little context: at the start of The Long Night, Cor and Titus buy a penthouse apartment in Lestallum and they get bunk beds to accommodate their close friends and “family” so that they all have a safe place to live and don’t have to worry about accommodation themselves… also there’s a little teaser to Violet and Nyx’s relationship ☺️🥰

A year into The Long Night

Luche climbed the stairs to the apartment he shared with the rest of the Glaive, he’d just got back to Lestallum after a supply run.

He unlocked the door and pushed it open, being hit by the strong smells of curry being prepared in the kitchen, Libertus was working with Crowe to prepare the evening meal for everyone, there were a lot of people living in this apartment, so Libertus was hard at work, throwing various spices into the large 2 handled pan, while Crowe was carving up the Dualhorn steaks into bite sized cubes.

“Hey, Luche!” Nyx stepped out the bathroom, he had clearly just had a shower, “how’d your supply run go?”

“Ok, not great, we didn’t get much, but I did manage to bring back some more resources for the Power Station, so it wasn’t a complete loss” Nyx clapped him on the shoulder while Luche looked around, it seemed to him that they were the only ones in the large apartment at the moment. “Where is everyone?”

“Pelna was called to help Monica with some communication problems, Drautos and Cor had a meeting with Holly, Violet was helping Iris at her shop and the Kings friends are still out on a mission, most of them will be back soon” Nyx pointed over his shoulder to the bathroom, “we’ve still got some hot water and you’ve got time for a shower if you want, dinner is probably going to be another hour or so”

By the time Luche had showered and changed most of the others who lived in the apartment had arrived; Titus was now helping Libertus and Crowe prepare dinner, Cor was discussing something with Pelna and Iris was bouncing her nephew on her knee while Nyx and Violet sat together on the opposite sofa, Violet saw Luche leave the bathroom and gave him a smile.

Luche had been so unsure about the apartment at first, the idea of so many people sharing a space was bound to cause issues, but he’d been wrong, so far there had been no problems, the people who could cook took it in turns to cook the evening meals, and if they needed help, others would step up, but there was never any arguments or shouting. Everyone offered to help Violet and Nyx with their son if he was crying, or they offered to babysit him, like Iris was doing now, just to give them an hour or 2 to themselves. The house work was everyone’s responsibility, you cleaned up after yourself, it was only fair, and everyone was responsible for their own belongings.

Luche sat down next to Iris and reached over to her nephew, who was laughing and clapping every time she bounced her knee, Luche tickled him under his chin and he squealed happily before he took hold of Luche’s finger and looked at him, he had the same rich amber eyes as his mother and aunt but he had his fathers hair colour; an unkempt tuft of slate grey hair covered the top of his head.

“You always grab my finger when I do that” Luche spoke to the baby boy, who cooed in response

“He likes you Luche” Iris said “isn’t that right!” She said and she gave her nephew a tickle, now that his attention was back on her she began pulling faces, making him laugh even more than before.

Luche leant back on the sofa and looked at the group, Titus, Lib and Crowe were working together in the kitchen and Cor and Pelna were joining them on the sofas now that their discussion was done, they had become a family over the year they’d been living together and although times were much harder now, Luche wouldn’t change it for anything

[telleroftime]

You know what, regarding that Hollow Knight AU... Traitor Lord Sukuna fits just as much.

The reason the Traitor Lord moved away from the Mantis Village is because of power. Where the sisters wanted to keep the infection out and rely on their own strength, the Traitor Lord accepted it. The plague made him stronger, it made him more resilient.

It reminds me of Heian Sukuna in some way. I mean, at one point Sukuna wouldn't have been seen as this evil monster. A time when the sorcerers of the Heian Era didn't want him dead. If it weren't for Sukuna's insistence on strength above all else, maybe they all could have gotten along.

But, well, evidently that's not how that went.

Just like Sukuna looking different, with his four arms and four eyes, the Traitor Lord looks nothing like his sisters. He is bigger and fights with his fists as opposite to a nail. Plus Traitor Lord has his double damage...

I also think Traitor Lords attacks kinda resemble Sukuna's. Ignoring the fact Sukuna pulls a lot of shit out of his ass, the three attacks that the Traitor Lord has fit Sukuna well:

->Dive and Dash - self explanatory, Sukuna is fast. Disgustingly fast. He will close any distance he needs to ensure he's not in danger and he will do so in the blink of an eye. The man is nimble for his size.

->Dancing Glaive - reminds me of Sukuna's cut and cleave. It's long distance wind-scythes brought from the Traitor Lord's hands.

-> Ground Pound - reminds me of that one scene in Shibuya where Sukuna pretty much melts everything. First he disintegrates everything with cursed energy, then everything without. The unavoidability of it reminds me of the massive wall that this attack is.

And yeah... still prefer Radiance Sukuna or Nightmare King Grimm Sukuna, but this is a strong contender.

[bogkeep]

Have you in your journey of many tattoos figured out/learnt/noticed, what kind of tattoo styles work best for you or that you started to prefer? Or styles you don't think youd go for?

i think its been kind of the opposite of what you'd expect - as a teen i was like nah i'm not getting tattoos i don't like the styles they're in... but then tattoos became more diverse and accepted in the mainstream, and i was like, hmmmm i think i'd like a tattoo that's in like a funky inky style that looks like it was drawn on me... and some watercolor splash is fun... and then i had to get my unicorn of course. and after that i think there was a lot of "oh that's a very cool and interesting style i want that on my body thanks" so now i have the medieval etching style glaives and the viking style swirly pattern. and at that point i have enough tattoos that any additional tattoos are gonna Look Good because they're like... part of the same tapestry if that makes sense. so i don't have any 'style requirements' anymore beyond I Like How It Looks.

that said, i think there's absolutely something to be said for how i think tattoo culture has changed over the years, the types of tattoos i get now were not really available in the 2000s i think? you have a lot more illustrators going into tattooing and people experimenting a lot more with abstraction and niche styles! i also think the technology of inks and needles have improved as well, letting tattoos age better than before. it's a lot easier to have an open mind towards tattoos when you have all of these options instead of associating tattoos with "sailor style" and edgy flame patterns.

... i will admit that my favourite tattoo is the pre-historic deer design though. the bold lines and timeless shapes... it's a classic. it ages well. makes me happy. no curses yet

[howtofightwrite]

I have a swordswoman in a modern urban fantasy setting (with severe gun control) who is missing her right eye and fights with her left. She normally uses a glaive on missions but has a one-handed sword as a sidearm/for everyday carry. How much of an issue is it, to be blind on the side she carries her sword, for both everyday life and in combat? It's more comfortable to cross-draw, but not impossible to draw on the same side, so what difficulties would she face that might make one side better?

So, a couple different things here, so let's start with one of the simplest: You almost always want to cross-draw your sword. This isn't like cross-drawing a handgun or knife, where the position is (partially) preference.

This should be a fairly obvious statement, but the implications may be less apparent: In order to draw a sword from a scabbard, you need to fully extract the blade from that scabbard. This means you need to move your sword-hand to a distance of at least the length of the blade from the lip of the scabbard. This is much easier if the scabbard is anchored to your opposite hip. It will usually be possible to remove the blade from a scabbard on the same hip, but it is a far more awkward motion, requiring you to basically extend your arm upward until the blade clears the scabbard, and leaves the sword in a reverse grip until corrected. (This is also the problem with keeping a blade on your back, you can draw it, but the process is much more involved, requiring you to hold the sword by the blade while removing and sheathing it. This isn't a deal breaker and can be done in preparation for combat, but it is more awkward, and difficult to execute in combat.)

With all of that in mind, it's pretty normal to carry your sword on the opposite hip from your swordarm. This is sort of how you deal with these things. In fact, the practice of driving on the left side of the road (supposedly) traces back to carrying your sword on your left hip. You would go to the left side of traffic to avoid accidentally bashing people with your scabbard while walking around. Similarly, the practice of driving on the right side of the road is a consideration for firearms being holstered on the right hip. (“Supposedly,” because I've never seen any serious academic study of the subject, so this one could be a fabrication. Also, it doesn't explain Australia, though that might be setting the bar a little high.)

The big issues with the loss of an eye are the loss of field of vision and the loss of depth perception. You can get a hint of a taste of how much this means by closing one of your eye, and then paying close attention to just how much of your field of view goes black.

This is going to be in the range of one of those neural tricks you don't realize you're doing until someone points it out, but you can always see your own nose. Your brain filters that out, just like how it stitches the bridge off your nose out of your vision. If you have two eyes, you can see the bridge of your nose right now as you're reading this. Your brain is editing that out because that's not useful information. But, close an eye and look towards your nose a little, and there it is. It was always there. The problem is, you can't see past it. There is a non-trivial chunk of the world that each eye cannot see, which your brain fills in from the other.

Somewhat obviously, an opponent who is aware of your character's limited vision can find ways to exploit that. Especially if they have help.

The loss of depth perception is also an issue. Usually it's more of a problem with ranged weapons, but it is still a consideration in melee. Particularly if using a longer melee weapon like a glaive, where the exact distance to the target is the difference between whiffing the strike, or accidentally clocking them with the shaft.

So, a funny thing about gun control: There is an extremely high correlation between gun control and legal restrictions on carrying other weapons. In some cases there are specific exceptions or blind spots, often motivated by cultural norms. Using the UK as an example, I've seen it stated multiple times that you can own a sword, in spite of the restrictions on guns. This is in fact true, there are restrictions on many types of swords, but even with the ones that do not require a license, you have to be able to demonstrate a legal reason to be carrying them in public. Very few developed countries, with gun control laws, will be completely cool with you carrying around a sword on your hip. (And this is before you even consider the glaive.)

Even if it's completely legal to own (because the laws were never written to consider that someone would be carrying around a polearm in the 21st century), your character could expect to be harassed and detained by police for carrying the glaive. The weapon itself would likely be confiscated. And this is just for carrying it openly in public. At worst (depending on where this is), there may be some 14th century law still on the books about civilians carrying poleaxes in the street which could really wreck your character's day, and even if it's, “technically legal,” the police would likely classify it as a weapon, and then let the courts sort it out. So, your character with their, “technically legal,” polearm would likely still find themselves arrested and arraigned. (Their odds of beating the charge would depend heavily on the laws involved and the nation and how stupid the cops were.)

Hilariously, this kind detention and seizure actually happens with legal swords in the UK. Where someone with legitimate cause is seen carrying a sword in public, the police are called, the sword-owner is detained, the weapon is confiscated, and then the police later sort out that everything was, in fact, above board.

If your character is planning to use their sword on someone (even in self-defense), that's not a legitimate cause to carry it.

Ironically, even in the US, open carrying a sword can get you a lot of unwanted police attention. Yes, the cops are going to be significantly more worried about a guy walking down the street with a katana, than they are about someone with a military combat shotgun slung over their back.

There is something interesting to think about, but it's going to sound like a non-sequitur for a second. There's an encounter in The Witcher 3 after you've accrued ~35k gold, where a tax collector will accost  Geralt and question him about whether he's engaged in one of several money making exploits in the game. Depending on the answers, you'll get one amusing piece of information, Witchers are categorized under tax law as a kind of pest removal service.

Most weapon control laws are written with the understanding that some professions will have a legal need for access to certain weapons (or items that may be restricted as weapons under the law.) One example would be situations where law enforcement or even private security firms, still have access to firearms, even if a normal citizen would not. In the UK example above, British police do have the legal authority to carry firearms, even if they don't always do so.

It's not hard to imagine a world where professional monster hunters have to file their taxes under the “Services to Buildings and Dwellings: Pest Removal Services,” or something equally bureaucratic, and as a result have specific legal carve-outs allowing them to procure, carry, and use the weapons they need while on the job. This could even result in very specific stipulations like your character could purchase and use FRAG-12s, but can only (legally) remove the loaded shotgun from her van while it is parked within 50 meters of the premises where the suspected pest is located, or if the weapon is unloaded and being transferred to an approved facility for storage, maintenance, or repairs.

If you want to play with gun laws in an urban fantasy setting, things could get pretty wild, and it's certainly worth poking and thinking about. Even under the best circumstances, you don't want to get into a sword (or glaive) fight with a nine foot tall snarling deathbeast. That's going to end poorly for you. In situations like that, if your character has a legitimate, professional reason to travel armed, then it's probably a good idea to play into that. The legal implications of someone hunting monsters is often glazed over, but you're at the edge of something very novel and unique, which is, at least, worth considering.

-Starke

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[theladyragnell]

omg ficlet time!! Okay, I saw your Kel/Neal throwaway comment in your tags the other day, and this also hit me on a recent reread - so, if you are amenable, I would adore a canonverse Kel/Neal ficlet, maybe...hot beverages in winter? Fencing? I'm coming up totally blank on content lol. Seeing a play, a la before Cleon's ordeal?

(This is not quite as fluffy as I suspect you were hoping for, but I have a lot of feelings about the Ordeal! So this is an AU of the day before Kel's Ordeal, and I couldn't get them to the kissing point, but it definitely goes that way in the future.)

Neal, everyone he knew would agree, was not very good at hiding his emotions. Neal would contest, of course, that he didn’t bother to try, and that it was the height of boredom to playact like nothing interested or bothered him.

He also knew, as an oldest child who’d once very much been a middle one, that if everyone thought he didn’t bother to hide anything, nobody would catch him when he was. All he had to do was keep the act up, highlight his frustrations and his boredoms and his romances the way everyone expected from him.

Some people saw past it, though in Neal’s opinion, the Sight was cheating and Baron George Cooper and little Alianne should keep their knowing looks to themselves.

Kel always saw through it, possibly by virtue of hiding her emotions through the absolute opposite strategy, and therein lay his current problem.

She, no matter her nerves, had helped him through the day before his Ordeal. He, glorious young knight with many prospects as he may now be, owed her no less. It wasn’t that there was no one else—Sir Raoul and the Own had adopted her so thoroughly that Neal suspected if there weren’t a war coming they would be lobbying to keep her—only that Neal was her best friend, and Neal had both the right and the obligation to make sure she didn’t do so many of her pattern dances that she exhausted herself and fell asleep during her vigil.

Unfortunately, every time Neal thought about his own vigil, and how helpful she’d been before it, he thought about his Ordeal, and after a week, that hadn’t receded into distant nightmare. At odd moments, he was still confronted by the faces of his brothers, accusing him of trying to live up to an example he could never hope to in his vainglory, or by the sympathetic face of the king delivering news about his sister or his parents.

Worst of all, he was all too frequently reminded of the vivid detail of what it felt like to watch Kel die no matter how much healing magic he poured into her. He’d forget it eventually, or at least he hoped so, but at the moment, it was all too vivid, and it made it all the worse that if he were allowed to tell her, she would have called him silly.

And he was silly, he decided, having paced around his room much longer than he cared to admit. He could ignore his worries for a few hours, and drink some tea and find some interesting cultural events in Corus.

When he arrived at her door, full of that conviction, she was in practice clothes and carrying her glaive. “No,” he said, which was much more succinct than he could have been. “No, we are going out to enjoy ourselves. You can continue your relentless pursuit of martial skill on any other day.”

Kel frowned at him. “I need to do something. And I do enjoy this.”

“Yes, you’re truly wonderful at the art of war, but as I said, any other day.” With anyone else, he would remove the weapon from their hands, but he was not at all sure of his ability to break Kel’s grip, and that would be embarrassing and ruin his air of lofty experience. Instead, he resorted to the stern look he’d inherited from the Lioness. “I heard about a tea house.”

“Did you get enough wandering around the city last week?”

Neal rolled his eyes. “That day I needed to be distracted. Today you do. Come on, Mindelan, this bores me.”

Most people, he could wear down, or if they knew him well, they’d give up before he began the process of wearing them down. He hadn’t yet succeeded in changing Kel’s mind when she really dug her heels in, and Neal thought for a moment she might before she sighed. “Hold on five minutes, let me get a few things and change before we go.”

Point won, Neal was happy to sweep a theatrical bow and acquiesce. “I’ll await you with bated breath, Squire Keladry.”

Kel scowled and shut the door, and Neal wandered up and down the corridor while she did whatever she needed to do, and beamed when she came out of her room dressed more for a day in Corus than for one on the practice courts. She held up a hand to forestall him saying anything. “I have to be back in a few hours, I have plans for dinner, but you can distract me if you want to.”

Neal did, in fact, want to, and led the way out of the palace and past the gates into the city. He talked nonsense the whole time, and Kel tolerated it with only intermittent rolls of the eyes when one of his tangents got perhaps too flowery for her taste.

With Shinkokami’s popularity, Yamani teahouses had started popping up in Corus like seedlings, and Neal had badgered Lady Yukimi until she’d told him which was best. (She might, he suspected, have let him badger her forever, if he hadn’t admitted it was for Kel.) When Kel smiled and relaxed her shoulders a little at the sight of it, he knew he’d made the right decision, and shepherded her inside.

While she calmly sipped her tea and Neal gulped most of his the way he did Tortallan teas and immediately regretted it, he nattered away about one thing and another, stories from the four years they’d been mostly apart and gossip about their year-mates. Kel let him do it and just watched him, the way she so often did, in a way that told him he wasn’t doing a good job of hiding what he was doing.

She didn’t ask, and she didn’t ask when, as they left, he caught sight of a holiday puppet show for children set up on the street and dragged her over to watch some of the well-known stories. There was even one about the Lioness, a thing he would never mention to her on pain of death.

She didn’t ask when it became obvious that the day was wearing on and she had other things to prepare for, so Neal was the one who had to finally speak up as they walked back through the city towards the palace gate. “Aren’t you scared?”

“That’s what you’ve been chewing on all day?” she asked, amused. “You just went through it a week ago, Neal, what do you think?”

“It’s hard to tell with you. You think weapons training is fun, you could feel anything about anything and I wouldn’t put it past you.”

Kel laughed and shook her head before lapsing into thoughtfulness as they walked. “I’m scared, yes,” she finally said. “I’ve touched the Chamber door. I have an idea what I’m walking into. But if it thinks I’m not worthy, it will kill me whether or not I’m scared. I don’t want to give it the satisfaction of brooding about it.”

A cold unfeeling nightmare of a room, and Kel didn’t want to give it satisfaction. Neal cracked out a laugh before he could stop himself. “Only you, Kel.”

“Did you ask Merric too, and Seaver?”

He rolled his eyes. “It’s not the same and you know it. You’re my best friend. And I discovered that unlike with most things, this is something where I ended up more scared after than before.”

Kel walked in silence for so long that he almost started talking again, no doubt to say much more than he should, so he was grateful when she interrupted his intake of breath. “You stopped worrying it would kill you and started worrying … well, if it does what it did when I touched the door, it makes other worries very sharp.”

“I don’t worry you’ll be killed by the Chamber. Whatever else I think of it, it had the good taste to kill Joren and do something nasty to Vinson. But everything beyond …”

“Scanra,” Kel said. “We’ll be going north come spring.”

“I want you to promise me you won’t do anything stupid if I’m not there to patch you up.”

Kel squeezed his arm and then dropped her hand to her side again. “I’ll do my duty. But I don’t intend to get killed doing it if I can possibly help it.”

It wasn’t a promise. She only made promises she could keep, and Neal, knowing that and knowing that false comfort wouldn’t help, changed the subject before she could ask him what worries the Chamber had sharpened for him.

The next morning, Neal waited with Kel’s friends and family, musing in his exhaustion that it was lucky Third Company was still in the north because there wouldn’t have been room for anyone else if they’d been in Corus.

Kel didn’t stumble out as so many did, though she staggered as soon as there was support, Raoul stepping forward to look after her before Neal could start throwing elbows around to get there. She looked grim more than frightened, filled with some purpose, and Neal thought back almost eight years, to the sight of a girl barely ten years old picking up a cause that nobody would thank her for taking on, that would win her pain and no glory, and had to force a smile of congratulations onto his face when he finally caught her eye.

It wasn’t until that night, after they’d been presented to the court as new knights of the realm and she’d been given her shield, that he caught her alone. “Is it better or worse now?” he asked.

“Worse,” she said, to his surprise. “But I think it’s going to be better someday. I just have to wait for it to happen.”

“You always take things so philosophically,” he said, but he knew Kel as well as she knew him, and knew he’d have to watch her as closely as duty allowed for a while. “But you can always ask me for help if you’re scared. No use being a lone heroic knight when you have people around to back you up. Especially when those people can heal you.”

Kel frowned before it lightened into a smile. “I’ll think about it,” she promised, and pulled him away to talk to someone else. It wasn’t ideal, but she let him hover for most of the night, so at least it was something.

[tenebriism]

Zack and Iggy for the ship meme~

Send Me a Ship and I'll Tell You . . . [ ACCEPTING ] ;;

IGNIS X ZACK :

Who is more likely to hurt the other?

Not intentionally, but I feel like Ignis would hurt Zack before Zack would hurt Ignis.

Who is emotionally stronger?

I don't think either one of them trumps the other when it comes to this. They've both been through hell and back and haven't let a single damn thing keep them down, so they can split the crown and half and share this, because they've earned it.

Who is physically stronger?

This is a tough one, too! They've both been trained, albeit very differently, and though their fighting styles and choice of weaponry aren't the same, they would both be formidable in a fight against each other. If they were to ever spar or ( gods forbid ) have to legitimately fight each other, it wouldn't be one sided by any means. I think they'd both go down at the same time, if not, within minutes of each other.

Who is more likely to break a bone? 

Zack. XD More reckless, more hardheaded than Ignis, for sure.

Who knows best what to say to upset the other? 

Neither. They would never, ever do this to each other. They may know WHAT to say that would fuel the fire, but neither of them would on purpose. They're not vindictive or petty like that towards each other.

Who is most likely to apologize first after an argument? 

They're both extremely good at owning up to their mistakes, so I'd say this is equal.

Who treats who’s wounds more often? 

I'd say this is equal, as well. Ignis protects the heir apparent and Zack is a glaive. They're on the battlefield pretty regularly.

Who is in constant need of comfort? 

Probably Ignis? Zack is such a big ball of energy and sunshine, that it's hard to ever imagine him making it obvious that he NEEDS comfort... not that Ignis isn't good at masking when he's upset. I'd even argue he's an EXPERT at it, but I also think Zack is just REALLY good at noticing when Ignis IS down, even without Iggy having to say so. It's like INSTINCT. Ignis also gets frustrated and irritated far more, so that would definitely be cause for comfort.

Who gets more jealous? 

Hm. Equaaaaaaal? I say this without much confidence. Ignis definitely gets jealous, but never shows it. I can't speak for Zack, though.

Who’s most likely to walk out on the other? 

:) I think we know the answer to this one. Ignis.

Who will propose? 

ZAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!!!!! :D

Who has the most difficult parents?

I'll admit, I don't know TOO much about Zack's parents, so I'll go the same route and say they're equal on this?

Who initiates hand-holding when they’re out in public? 

Zack, to start, but once Ignis is comfortable, he quite enjoys holding Zack's hand.

Who hogs the blankets? 

ZACK... but it's okay, because he's a heater, so Ignis can just curl up around him, or in his arms, and be perfectly fine even without the blanket.

Who gets more sad? 

This one's a tough one. I think they both get sad, but don't show it as much? Zack might show it a TAD bit more than Ignis, in comparison, but Zack is better at picking up on it when it comes to Ignis.

Who is better at cheering the other up? 

Zack. Another puppy dog, ' opposites attract ' muse who can make Ignis smile by just being right beside him. He knows exactly what to do and say to make Ignis feel better, and won't hesitate to stop UNTIL Ignis feels better. Such is not to say Ignis wouldn't do the very same, but Zack is definitely better at it.

Who’s the one that playfully slaps the other all the time after they make silly jokes?

Zack, as the goofy one in the relationship. XD

Who is more streetwise?

100% Zack, just from his own, individual experiences. Ignis' upbringing was a lot stricter, more routine, and more limited.

Who is more wise?

Ignis, because he was taught to be from birth. He's a walking, talking book of life lessons, life hacks, and rules.

Who’s the shyest? 

Ignis. I can't imagine Zack with an ounce of shyness in his body.

Who boasts about the other more? 

Zack, Zack, Zack. He's like Ignis' personal cheerleader, and it flusters Ignis every single time.

Who sits on whose lap? 

Hilariously enough, I think Ignis would be the sitter. :) It wouldn't be of his own accord, at first; Zack definitely PULLS Ignis into his lap and playfully traps him, yet slowly but surely, Zack might just be surprised to find an Ignis depositing himself into Zack's lap. c;

@the-nexus ;;