#clarus amiticia

[whostarlockeda03]

@feral-for-drautos you posted the other day about wanting a fic where Titus got injured and kept bleeding everywhere and apparently this was the cure for my writer's block and it somehow became a 2000 word, slightly-off topic, pre-DrauCor-if-you-squint thing???

Anyway, I figured I may as well post it for you, so. I hope you enjoy it?

I might add it to ao3 later, idk. Anyway, have some Titus being terrible at hiding his injury under the cut!

Something wasn’t right.

The word swam around him suddenly, greying and narrowing, swirling and rolling, sparkling and then fading to black then snapping sickeningly back into focus in a horrific unending circle. His skin was on fire, heat rushing through his veins and settling alight his insides until he could barely move, barely feel, barely think. A piercing ringing split through his skull, turning what little was left of his brain to mush.

Titus groaned, and let himself tilt forwards until his head rested against the blessedly cool wall. More pain pulsed through him with each shuddering breath he took, emanating from his leg, making his breath hitch, which only led to his hand shaking, which pulled on the stitches he had already managed to put into the gash on the side of his thigh.

It took a worryingly long time for the nausea to subside.

He hissed as he drove the needle back through his skin, and had to pause again, stitch incomplete, when a dizzy spell hit and he thought he was about to stumble into his shower.

It shouldn’t hurt this badly, Titus knew, this was hardly the first time he’d put himself back together unaided. Their blade must’ve been coated with something. That, in and of itself, was concerning. His assailant shouldn’t have been able to access anything this… effective.

Fuck.

He needed to talk to Leonis, clearly. Except he couldn’t, because that would mean admitting to this.

Admitting that a moronic, switchblade-waving amateur had managed to catch him, a condecorated war hero, off guard.

He couldn’t admit that he got injured by a godsdamn mugger to Cor ‘The Immortal’ Leonis, grudging-friends or not.

He was trembling like a new-born by the time he was done, shakily depositing the needle next to the sink. The stitches were wonky, haphazard, and too few in number. A small voice inside his head screamed that it wasn’t good enough, that he needed to do better, but Titus ignored it. It didn’t matter right now, if it was a good job or not. No. Sleep. Sleep was all that mattered right now.

Titus staggered through to his bedroom, collapsed on top of his sheets, and gave in to the darkness encroaching on the edges of his vision.

* * *

There was blood on the sheets, when he woke.

Of course there was.

On second inspection, when his head didn’t feel like it was about to split in two if he breathed too heavily, it really was very shoddy suturing. At least whatever shitty drug was in his system seemed to be long gone.

Heaving a sigh, he glanced towards his bedside table, then shot out of bed with a hissed curse.

If he didn’t leave in the next ten minutes, he was going to be so late for work. Astrals, and last night he’d thought that having to tell Leonis would be bad. If the glaives ever found out… oh gods, if Ulric ever caught wind of this, he’d never live it down.

He shuddered at the thought, but didn’t pause as he hastily wrapped a bandage as tight as he could manage around the injury then dressed. Thank all the gods he hadn’t been wearing his uniform when it had happened, or else he’d have much bigger problems, like figuring out how to hide the hole in his trousers.

Silver linings.

* * *

“Silver linings, my ass!” Titus spat as he finally, finally got to his office and flopped into his desk chair.

His leg throbbed something awful. The stitches really needed redoing, he reckoned, before they ripped, or worse, the wound got infected. With a groan, he pushed stacks of reports and forms over to one side of his desk and pillowed his head on his arms. A huge yawn overtook him.

Well, he’d had a rough night, a short nap couldn’t hurt.

His eyes fluttered shut.

* * *

There was blood on his chair, when he woke.

“Oh, great.” He sighed, pushing himself to his feet. He hated that he stumbled.

Godsdamnit, he was not weak!

Growling in frustration, he yanked open his desk drawer and grabbed the first packet of painkillers he could find, and popped all the pills onto the desk. Then, before he could do something stupid, like think, he grabbed them all and shoved them in his mouth.

There. That should tide him over, at least.

Ignoring the sharp pain that shot through his leg as he moved across his office, he grabbed his first aid kit and then locked the door. He was not going to be bested by a fucking scratch from some Insomnian low-life thug!

Pulling the stitches back out was, unsurprisingly, even more painful than putting them in had been. Titus gritted his teeth, and dropped the bloodied thread into his bin when he was done.

It was far far easier this time, even at the really awkward angle he was working at. Soon, the wound was closed again, this time with straight, evenly-spaced stitches that actually nipped the ripped edges of his skin together so they could heal.

Satisfied with his handiwork, Titus wrapped a fresh bandage around it, tidied up the first aid kit, then sat back down, intent on addressing the ever-growing stack of forms on his desk.

* * *

Three days passed in relative success, in terms of keeping his wound quiet.

But then he took an unexpected hit in a training spar, and a stitch popped.

He could feel the blood beginning to seep into the bandage. Godsdamnit.

“I’m out, I’m out.” He said with a sigh, half-heartedly waving for the fight to stop.

Across from him, Nyx Ulric looked like he was the one who’d popped a stitch open. Maybe he had, in that bag of crazy the man had the nerve to call a brain. “Wait, what? For real?”

Titus scowled at him.

“But no one ever beats you!”

“Well congratulations, Ulric, you’re the first.” He deadpanned, then sauntered towards out of the room before Nyx could say or do anything about it.

He did feel slightly bad, leaving Nyx without someone to train with. But needs must - he wasn’t about to own up to his injury now, after he’d managed to keep it under wraps. Besides, he was out of the danger zone with it now. It was healing. He had a massive stockpile of painkillers.

No one would ever need to know.

No, he could just stop by his office, assess the damage, and go about his business.

* * *

The next day, it started itching.

The day after that, he noticed that it looked quite red. It probably meant nothing, he’d been scratching at it through the bandage, after all.

The day after that, he realised he basically had a built-in radiator on his thigh. Although, that could just have been that he was sitting huddled under a blanket on his couch, at the time.

Then the day after that, there was a crusted layer of blood and a mysterious icky-coloured goo on the inside of his uniform trousers.

The next day again, the skin around it looked shiny, and - huh, was it possible that the blood in his veins going away from the wound looked darker than before? Nah, surely not. He was just too tired. Checking it last thing at night was daft. He told himself that he’d see he was being stupid when he checked again in the morning.

He didn’t check again in the morning.

* * *

Twelve days after he got the injury, he came down with a fever.

It was entirely coincidental, he was sure. Just a run-of-the-mill flu, no serious infections in a wound that wouldn’t stop bleeding no matter what he did to stop it here, no siree.

He also had a meeting with the king, his shield, and that eternally-annoying-yet-somehow-loveable brat they called the Marshal.

It went about as well as it could have, which was to say that within minutes of him mustering enough energy to make the short walk - it was a five minute walk, tops, so why did it feel like he had hiked here from Galdin?! - between his office and the king’s, he had two grown men hovering over him like godsdamn mother hens despite his continued reassurances he was fine, while another grown man watched from the corner of the room and snorted to himself in amusement.

Titus glared at Cor.

The bastard smirked again.

“No, that’s it.” Regis said abruptly, breaking off Titus’ admittedly feeble attempt to convince them he was in good health. “I’m sorry, I’m pulling rank. You are clearly ill, Titus. I’m sending you home.”

“He’s right, you know. You need to rest up.” Clarus chimed in, looking down on him with the expression that was permanently stuck on his face, the one that never let anyone forget that he was a father, tasked with looking after wayward children, and had been ever since Regis was born.

Gods, Titus hated that constipated look of worry being directed at him.

He wilted in his chair. “Fine, fine. But we might as well have the meeting, since I’m already he-”

“Do I need to have Cor escort you to your car?” Regis interrupted him, tone dry, one eyebrow raised.

Titus sighed. Heavily.

He gripped the armrests of the chair and pushed up onto his feet. He swayed a little, his vision blurring for a moment as he regained his balance. That was fine. All normal flu things.

With another displeased huff, he took a step towards the door

And he absolutely did not whine when he put weight on his injured leg no he didn’t ow ow ow!

Oh, who’d have guessed that the floor of the king’s study was really comfy?

* * *

The next thing he was really aware of the rustling sounds of someone flipping pages of a book.

Titus blinked blearily, and after a few seconds of ow-too-bright the light of the room seemed to dim to something more manageable, and as he suddenly realised he was in a hospital, he turned his head to see none other than Leonis, sitting at his bedside with a cheap magazine in hand, looking up at him with a shit-eating grin.

“Aw, look who’s awake.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, not you.” Titus muttered, turning his head away, and half-heartedly trying to push himself into a sitting position.

Cor had the audacity to laugh, the bastard, but he did drop the magazine in favour of helping Titus shuffle up the bed.

“Would you rather it be Ulric?” Cor asked, sprawling back in his chair once Titus was situated. “You kinda owe it to him at this point. Poor bastard nearly had a heart attack when I had to go tell the glaives that their esteemed Captain had an injury right in the same place he managed to get a hit on you in training.”

“I don’t owe the poor bastard shit.” Titus huffed, crossing his arms defensively. “This barely even counts as getting even with him after all the stunts he’s pulled on me over the years.”

Cor snorted again, before his expression sobered.

Titus felt a twinge of guilt beginning to grow in his gut.

“Ti, you’ve been out for three days. Your temperature’s still running high, but thankfully we caught the sepsis before it was too late, and they’ve got you on antibiotics for the infection.” He said, watching Titus closely. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Titus refused to fidget, although he didn’t manage to keep eye contact. “It was such a small wound. I thought I’d dealt with it.”

Cor only blinked.

Then he sighed heavily.

“Look, it’s not like you don’t also take care of small injuries yourself!” Titus pointed out, and he hated how defensive he sounded. “The first suture, I’ll admit, was terrible. But I redid it and I kept it clean and I thought it was fine!”

“Wounds don’t get that bad overnight, Titus.” Cor said quietly. “You must’ve noticed it getting worse. Or the fact that it wouldn’t stop bleeding puss everywhere.”

Titus inhaled sharply, forced himself to count to three, then let out the breath.

“How did you get it, anyway?” Cor asked, before Titus could explode and say something he would almost certainly regret.

“Some asshole tried mugging me. Got in a lucky hit.” He admitted slowly, staring at his lap and refusing to meet Cor’s eyes. He could see his lips twitching from here. “Don’t you dare-”

Cor burst out laughing.

Not a smirk, no, a proper, full-bellied howl of laughter, that made him bend double in the chair he was in and left him clutching at the handles so he didn’t fall out of it while tears gathered at the corners of his eyes.

Titus grabbed a pillow and thwacked him over the head with it, trying - and failing - to maintain a scowl, but his own lips were twitching, despite his best efforts.

“I’m telling Ulric you got stabbed by a mugger.” Cor said, wiping his eyes as he finally stopped laughing, and stood up, instead.

“So help me gods they will never find your body!” Titus hissed, frantically trying to grab him and prevent his departure.

When Cor dissolved into giggles again and let Titus drag him back down to sit on the edge of the bed, he knew, despite it all, they’d be okay.

[garbria]

Psssst... how about some "Thrown Down the Stairs" from the bthb? With Young Cor if possible.

Underlined is requested, crossed out is finished

Here you go, my dear!

When Cor joined the Crownsguard at 13, he knew it would be difficult. But when things go wrong, will he be allowed to stay?

Also a fill or Febuwhump day 1, "head wound."

[falseneun]

My sketch for @whostarlockeda03’s fic agaain!!

I’m so soooorrryyy for the long waiting 😢 had the rough sketch in my folder for weeks but I wasn’t happy enough so yeaAh here’s the drawing! I hope you like it!

[widget-2]

EXODUS. a.k.a. Why, Tumblr, why?

I’ll still be updating draws here, but will also try out twitter and insta and cross post.  Really sad that this happened and to see so many of you go~ Gonna try and track people down, but do drop me a DM and let me know where you’re headed! Or if you’ve moved on, come find me at my new accounts for future installments of Gladdy’s rainbow tat, Crownsguard cosplay and random bouts of fandom feels idiocy. 

https://twitter.com/widgettoo

https://www.instagram.com/widget_2

xoxo,w

[crownsguardbar-kingsglaiveclub]

Hot Chocolate

The old cabin at Alster Slough hasn't seen much use in recent years.

It's Weskham's, technically, has been in his family since his grandfather built it, but he's always let his friends use it whenever they wanted. When the children were young, Regis and Clarus would load them into the car in the summer and drive down to the cabin almost every weekend. Regis taught Noctis to fish, Iris caught bugs and snakes and frogs with Umbra's excellent help, Gladio practiced cartwheels and backflips until he tired enough to flop out on the porch to read beside Clarus.

Now and then, they'd bring a convoy with them. The cabin wasn't big, but the land around it was. Sylva and Aulea brought Luna and Ravus and Cindy and Pryna (and after a few years, Ignis), and pitched tents in the clearing around the cabin. Sometimes even Cor or Ardyn were enticed to join them, trading in the responsibilities of the city for the shrieks of children's laughter and the dogs' excited barking.

Regis had once proposed an employee retreat; all of them, plus Nyx and Selena and Crowe and Libertus and Pelna. The Galahdians started giggling at the Lucian idea of 'camping', and promptly started teaching everyone what 'roughing it' really meant.

But as the years passed and the Kingsglaive opened, everyone's lives got busy. With the children all in high school and beyond, there were other activities to fill their weekends. Regis still mandated an all-employee weekend every summer, but they weren't driving out every weekend like they had in the past.

And even in the best, busiest times, they'd never used the cabin much in the winter. It was sturdy but had minimal insulation, and got fairly chilly as soon as the summer heat left Duscae.

"Clarus, I'm cold."

Clarus can't help the fond smile that settles on his face despite the whining note in his husband's voice - the one Noctis seems to have perfectly inherited. He takes his time hooking his finger in his book to keep his place and looking up at Regis.

Regis pouts at him, a knitted blanket wrapped around his shoulders. He's holding two steaming mugs, and Clarus' smile widens. He shifts back on the old, plush sofa and sets his book aside, lifting the edge of the blanket draped over his lap in invitation. Regis brightens, setting the mugs down in easy reach before he practically dives into the warmth, startling an 'oof' out of Clarus.

There's a few minutes of wiggling, old bodies shifting around to find the familiar way they fit together, Regis' legs across Clarus' crooked knee and Clarus' arm wrapped securely around Regis' back, the heavy quilt Clarus' mother made long ago tucked in around them both. Regis sighs happily and nuzzles Clarus' neck for a moment, then reaches back to snag one of the mugs off the table and pass it to his husband.

"Ah yes," Clarus says dryly, sniffing appreciatively at the spiced hot chocolate but eyeing the mug it came in dubiously. "Our wonderful, adoring children."

The mug is bright blue and purple, painted by Iris and Noctis and with careful lettering by Gladio, '#2 Dad'. Regis just grins, taking a sip out of his own red and orange '#3 Dad' mug and leaving a skim of milk across his mustache.

(Cor has the matching yellow '#1 Dad' mug. It had been Noctis' idea for Father's Day when he was twelve, and his siblings had laughed so hard Iris actually, literally fell off her chair.)

Regis shifts a little more, settling his back against Clarus' strong shoulder and enjoying the crackling fire that helped heat the room along with the piles of cozy blankets. They didn't often get time for just the two of them anymore. Regis would never regret that; the bar was the best thing besides their children to ever happen, and he would never begrudge the extended family that they found themselves a part of. But when Cor had suggested he and Clarus get away for a bit, recharge, Regis had jumped at the idea.

Outside, it's snowing. Not much, and there will probably only be a slight frost on the ground in the morning, but they can see the flakes drifting down outside the window and it lends to the quiet ambiance.

Clarus finishes his hot chocolate and sets the mug aside, pressing a warm kiss to Regis' temple as he reaches behind him to retrieve his book and deposit it on Regis' lap. "Read to me?"

Regis smiles, setting his own mug on the table and picking up the book. A historical novel set in the time of the Wise, which he's fairly certain Clarus has read before. Not Regis' preferred genre, but for Clarus he would endure. His smile widens when Clarus picks up the knitting needles and bundle of purple yarn that had been resting beside the book.

They shift around again, Clarus wrapping his arms more fully around Regis so he can wrap his fingers in yarn, and Regis settling on his lap to lean back against his chest and read without impeding Clarus' view of his project. Regis cracks the book open to the marked page and clears his throat. "He prowled along the council table like a coeurl hunting prey. He knew a traitor sat among these men, and he watched to see who would sweat..."

"Happy anniversary, Reg," Clarus murmurs in his ear, warm and full of love, and Regis' smile is bright enough to light the room, though he doesn't pause in reading.

[meteorpublishing]

Noctis Drives the Regalia for the First Time

Guest Writer: @mtraki​ Warnings: None Wordcount: 1254

“Right,” The King of Lucis was saying, “It’s really quite simple—“

“—Right…” The Prince of Lucis replied dubiously.

“—Just what do you think you’re doing?” Demanded the tall, dark figure that seemed to appear suddenly, on the other side of the front passenger side door, speaking in a decidedly less-than-approving tone.  His hand clamped down on the top of the door as if expecting that to really be enough to prevent the vehicle from going anywhere.

Regis looked up at his old friend, bewildered at the question as well as the tone, “… I’m teaching my son how to drive…?”

The Marshal of the Crownsguard’s tone did not change, “Regis, the last time you drove was before he was born.”

“I’m sure I’ve driven since then…”

“I’m sure you haven’t.” Cor frowned.

Prince Noctis avoided eye-contact and appeared to concentrate very hard on the Regalia’s RPMs.

“Well, regardless,” The King nodded to himself, smiling in a way he thought would inspire confidence in the other man, “I’m quite sure I remember enough to—“

“—to make your son just as bad of a driver as you are.” The Crownsguard deadpanned, reaching with his other hand to open the door.

Regis quickly moved to lock it, still smiling, “Cor, really.”

Noctis could no longer remain quiet, chortling and snorting into the steering wheel. “Oh my gods, you guys… Seriously?”

Sighing, Cor reached over the door to unlock it again, “No.”

“If you think I won’t rap your knuckles with my cane, you are mistaken, old friend.”

“So’re you, if you think that will stop me.”

Regis looked at his son, incredibly serious, “Hit the gas.”

Without thinking, Noctis immediately obeyed.  The big engine of the Regalia roared gamely as he stomped the gas pedal, not entirely sure it was the right one.

“Huh.” Regis remarked, even as the Marshal unlocked the door and opened it, requiring every ounce of self-discipline in his body to not roll his eyes at his royals, “I was certain that would work.”

“Maybe if it wasn’t in ‘park’…”

“Wasn’t in what?” Noctis demanded, just as confused.

Only narrowly avoiding the facepalm, Cor looked back toward the Citadel entrance where the other teenager was waiting anxiously, “And you were just going to let this happen?”

“His Majesty insisted,” Ignis retorted defensively, “How was I supposed to tell him ���no’?”

Noctis grumbled, “Shut up, Cor.”

Eventually, they managed to get resituated: Cor in the passenger side with King Regis behind him and Ignis beside him to sit behind Noctis on the driver’s side.

“You know where the gas is.  The other one is the brakes,” Cor announced dryly, “Since Regalia is an automatic.”

“I know that.”

“Great.  Step on the brake and take it out of park then.”

Eager to impress, Noctis stood on the brake and looked around a few moments before hesitantly flicking on the windshield wipers and hurriedly turning them off again.

“Center console.” Ignis said helpfully.

Embarrassed, the Prince muttered, “Shut up specs, that’s air conditioning and radio.”

Wordlessly, Cor pointed at the gear shift, withholding the long-suffering sigh.

“Oh.”

Regis beamed encouragingly, “Take your time, son.”

“Regis is your seatbelt on?” Demanded the Marshal.  He was having upsetting flashbacks from the last time he’d not been behind the wheel of the Regalia.

“Really, Cor, I don’t see—“

“Ignis?”

“No Marshal, it isn’t… Your Majesty, please buckle your seatbelt.  I’m afraid I must insist, as your safety is paramount…”  The young Crownsguard was threatening to become didactic so the King simply pursed his lips and buckled up.

“If anything happens, we can just warp away, anyway,” Noctis rolled his eyes, “It’s you two who will need seatbelts if we don’t take you with us.”  The Prince managed to get the Regalia into the proper gear and followed the instructions to slowly let off the brakes.

“Both hands on the wheel.”

“Yeah okay.”

“… I mean it, Prince Noctis.”

“What’s the big deal?  You don’t use both hands…” Noctis regretted his words when he felt the unwavering hard stare.

“I’ve been driving longer than you’ve been alive.  Put both hands on the wheel.”

Regis caught Ignis’s eye in the backseat and muttered conspiratorially, “Is he this strict about everything.”

“The Marshal is simply concerned with proper driver safety.” Ignis blinked back.

The King frowned, “I remember Cor being much more adventurous in the past…”

“Hey can we go pick up Prompto?” The Prince wanted to know.

Beaming, Regis leaned forward against his seatbelt, “I think that’s a wonderful idea.  We should certainly go see young Prompto.”

The Marshal had given up on getting out of this without a headache, “Sure.  Fine.”  At least the Prince seemed capable of steering the sedan, even along the twisting driveway. “Turn right, here.”

Noctis frowned, “But that takes the long way…”

“Yes, but going straight puts you right into merging traffic.” Ignis pointed out.

“I can merge just fine.”

“Noctis…” Cor began.

“Noctis.” Ignis cautioned.

“Oh leave him alone, he’s doing fine.” Regis admonished them.

Forty-five seconds and a near-intimate encounter with a red coupe later, Cor and Noctis had managed to stop white-knuckling the steering wheel and Ignis had just dropped his arms from shielding the King.

“… We’ll work on merging…” The Marshal said quietly and very generously, licking his lips and easing back into his own seat.

Exhaling his screaming nerves, the Prince said, “Yeah.  Later.  Do I just keep going straight?”

“That’s probably best for now.”

“Red light.” Was Ignis’s insistent prompt that was probably supposed to sound helpful but instead came off a little panicked.

“I see it.”

Chuckling, Regis patted the young Crownsguard on the shoulder, “He sees it.”

“You’re enjoying this, your Majesty?”

“I get to spend some quality time with my son!  And he’s learning how to drive in my car!  I’m so proud…”

“Come on Dad… don’t get all sentimental…”

Cor’s body language had degraded to ‘resigned’, but his tone had sharpened, “Eyes on the road.  And that’s really a red light.  Slow down.”

“Okay okay.”  The Regalia rolled slowly to the stop line before jerking to an abrupt halt, shoving all of its passengers against their restraints.

“… Easier on that.  It’s not an on-off switch…”

“Got it.” It was only that the Marshal had literally saved their lives two minutes ago that Noctis wasn’t regretting not warping out of the car the moment the old soldier climbed into it.

After the light changed and they were on the move again, the King noticed his text.  Raising both eyebrows, he queried, “Cor… Why is Clarus asking me if he’s seen you?”

“Tell him you haven’t.”

“Cor…” Regis’s tone almost threatened to be actually perturbed, “Did you really interrupt my father-son time just to get out of a meeting?”

“No.  I left the Citadel to get out of a meeting.  I got in this car so you two wouldn’t kill yourselves.”

“You’re so busted.” Noctis chuckled.

Regis hummed and returned Clarus’s text, “Indeed.”

“Assuming we survive this…” The Marshal snorted.  About to defend his son again, the King of Lucis fell silent when Noctis suddenly turned the wrong way onto a narrow one-way street, coming face to face with a delivery truck.

They did survive, of course, despite the screaming of people and metal.  Cor limped the car back to the Citadel.  The Shield of the King was waiting with an impressive frown for him.

“Still wasn’t as bad as the last time you father drove,” The Marshal muttered.  Clarus made a noise of agreement.

[kanrakixystix]

5-7 and 87

Thiiissss was a challenge, Anon, not gonna lie. And that’s totally my fault because I didn’t realize that prompts 80-89 don’t exist on my sheet??? LOL!! So I had to made do, and I simply swapped the numbers around, so prompt 78 it is!

Indirect sequel to this gem. 

Regis + Nyx = “Hold me, and never let me go.” feat. RegClar and implied Lunyx.

Word count: 523

Nyx felt his heart split in two. Not because he was dying,or that he had accepted death. He knowingly chose his fate for the good ofLucis. Maybe he would be revered as a hero. Maybe his name would be lost,forgotten in time, and everything he had done this night would be lost tohistory. There was no way he could be sure, but if there was one thing that hehad taken away from his sacrifice, it was learning of all that the king hadgiven up behind the closed doors of his private quarters.

He hadn’t meant to spy – and he didn’t think the memory hadbeen intentionally played for him to see. Still, the images of the king and hisshield, his lover, flashed behind his eyes, even as his body turned to ash.

All of this time, and he had never known about the king’s…preferences.Not that it mattered. It didn’t change his view of the king or how he ruled hiskingdom. Nyx had no regrets on that front. He would give his life for king andcountry, hearth and home, again and again. That’s what it meant to be the hero.

His heart ached as he saw the scene over and over again behindhis eyes, even if they were focused on the burning city surrounding him. Heheard their whispers, their promises, and the absolute turmoil that plaguedthem. He saw the kisses, the desperation, the fear that this was their lastchance. He felt the weight of secrets and passion, war, and love with each hikein their breath and how long they had been carrying them. Years. Decades.

“Hold me, and never let me go.”

Nyx sat amongst the debris, knowing his time was drawingcloser and closer. He had never found a love like that, or, if he had, he wouldnever have been given the chance to explore the option. (What did a princesswant with him, anyway?) He would never know what it was like to love someone sodeeply that they shared the same fears, held each other’s darkest secrets andloved them from the inside out.

But he thought of the pain, the sheer agony that had tornthrough His Majesty’s heart when his shield crumbled. He could feel thetorment, the lingering pain in King Regis’s very soul as the power of the kingsleft his body. It might be nice to love someone like that, and be loved sowholly in kind, but heartbreak was a kind of pain that Nyx couldn’t suffer.Losing two homes was enough. Losing his family and closest friends was enough.

He wouldn’t be able to bear the torture of losing someone heloved like that.

His flesh burned faster now, and Nyx wondered wherever kingsand shields ended their journeys if they were together. He hoped they were. Hehoped that death brought them some sort of solace, where they didn’t have tohide from the public eye, where they were able to love freely without theburden of the crystal.

Nyx supposed he would find out soon enough.

Send me two numbers 1-15 and another number 1-195 and I’ll write you a drabble.

FFXV Fic Roulette Master Post

Like what you read? Buy me a coffee!

[mouser26]

Soft by @kaciart

CLICK THE LINK IN THE TITLE TO SHOW THE ARTIST SOME LOVE AND SEE THE STORY

Been reading MT!Prompto stuff so when i saw this one it jumped the line for coloring. Bruised, bandaged, and locked up and still he looks so happy to just be in a six be damned bed.

I second your fuck Clarus.

Colors for Clarus and Regis based on slightly more greyed tones of the colors I use for Gladio and Noct.

[oldfrxend]

Regis & Clarus King & Shield

Aesthetic Photoset for @rex-cxiii

[alia-turin]

The amazing @babelast drew a beautiful image of Cor (which y’all should see here) and a mermaid and asked for a short fic. Well the fic is not short and I really hope she likes it. I have been thinking about it for couple of days and the idea grew so there will be part two.

Fic Title: The Sea Maid Chapter: Part I Rating: G (some swearing and nudity) Pairing: Cor Leonis x OC (Mermaid) Other characters: Regis, Clarus, Cid, Weskham Summary: twenty-five years old Cor is determined to prove himself by finding a legendary sword.  If you feel like supporting this writer consider buying me a coffee: Ko-Fi

Tagging: @birdsandivory @jojopitcher @lazarustrashpit @yourcoolfriendwithallthecandy @themissimmortal @kairakara101 @babelast @akiza-hades-rose @ladychocoberry

If you want to be tagged on my fics (or if I have forgotten to tag you) please contact me!

“Here is the cave.” Clarus announced as if nobody else could see the cave entrance.

“You really don’t have to do it.” Regis placed his hand on Cor’s shoulder. “It’s just a sword, there are many other swords.”

It wasn’t ‘just a sword’ in Cor’s mind. Well it was, but it wasn’t. They have been on that trip, all five of them helping the kingdom fight the empire and getting themselves into all sort of trouble in the process. But ever since Gilgamesh something has been bothering him. It has been more than ten years ago, and he still felt as if he wasn’t doing enough. Gilgamesh was his heroic quest and if you ask people it was very successful, Cor had different opinion on the matter. Since that day, since Clarus pulled him out of the trails cave Cor has been trying to be better version of himself and less of a little annoying brat. But something was missing. He was doing his job at the Crownsguard, guarding the young prince, helping him in his own endeavors but he didn’t feel like he was doing something out of the ordinary. It all seemed so normal, anyone could do it but he wasn’t just anyone. He was Cor the Immortal.

“That is Leviathan’s sword, if you don’t want it, we can at least make sure the Empire never finds it.” Cor had set his mind that he would find the legendary sword of Leviathan and nothing that Regis or the others could say was going to change his mind.

“What’s with you, boy, and caves? Some unresolved childhood issues?” Cid grumbled as he was leaning against the Regalia making it obvious he disagreed with Cor’s quest.

“Remember the sword is just a legend” Weskham told him as he passed him a bag with provisions. “It is possible that you go in there and find nothing. Don’t try to find something that doesn’t exist. If it’s not there, it’s not there.”

Cor just nodded and with that walked into the cave.

The journey was not as he expected. Most of these dungeons had demons or other monsters hiding within. He was sure he would have to fight his way down, but beside few goblins there was nothing else to threaten his life.

Eventually he reached what seemed like the end of the cave. There was nothing there but rocks and a small lake that seemed to be going further in. Maybe the sword was in the lake? Maybe there was underwater gallery or even a passage that lead to the sword. Cor knew underground waters were dangerous. He could swim and he could dive, but was there another pocket of air there? What if he swam too far and there was no air, and he couldn’t go back.

His thoughts were interrupted by movement in the water. He couldn’t see well what caused it, but he could swear he noticed scales and maybe a giant tale. Maybe that was why there were no demons here, there was something bigger and more dangerous than demons. Cor pulled his sword out ready to attack even if he wasn’t sure if the creature was able to attack on land. That made his potential dive to look for the sword even more dangerous and complicated.

He saw movement again, this time he could clearly see a tail possibly like whale’s tail but in a deep green colour. He could also see some threads of gold, like fur, but longer.

“Show yourself.” Cor groaned in frustration. He wasn’t scared of whatever that creature might be, but he wasn’t a patient man and he was going to kill anything that was in his way.

The water stopped moving and went completely silent. Cor wondered if whatever he was seeing was just an illusion, spending too much time in the dark and his eyes were playing tricks on him. But he did see the green scales and that strange golden fur.

Suddenly the water moved again and Cor got his sword ready for attack. However, what came out of the water wasn’t really what he expected. It or more like she was a woman. A gorgeous woman with long golden hair that was disappearing in the water, eyes so green that they were shining in the dim light his torch was making. He relaxed his sword hand moving the sword to the side rather than pointing it at her. She cocked her head to the side studying him probably the same way he was studying here. But Cor wasn’t just studying her. He was enchanted. He wasn’t seeing anything so beautiful and so elegant. Her thin neck, her small shoulders, he could swear he could wrap just one arm around them and embrace her completely. Suddenly he realized she was naked, the water was distorting everything under her collarbones but he could clearly see her shape and curves. Cor turned his head to the side feeling embarrassed and suddenly concerned for her modesty.  

“Who are you?” she suddenly asked and he looked again towards her, the melody in her voice attracting his attention. His head was gone completely empty, he had no idea what to answer or even how. “Can you speak?” she moved a bit closer to him and Cor saw the green tail helping her swim. She was a mermaid. In his head he started running all the stories he knew about the mermaids, but it wasn’t much. Weskham or Regis, probably even Clarus would know a bit more on the subject. Cor was never much for learning and books, he just knew that they were pretty and created by Leviathan and most likely just a myth. Well clearly not a myth since there was one standing in front of him right now.

“Yes, I can.” He answered and put his sword slowly back in its sheath, she didn’t seem alarmed by the weapon, but he didn’t want to give her any cause for concern. “My name is Cor. Cor Leonis.”

“What are you doing here, Cor Leonis?” she swam closer to the edge of the lake, resting her arms on the stone. He was grateful for that; her shape was way too distracting.

“I’m looking for Leviathan’s sword.” He made a step closer to her still mindful that his actions might scare her. “Do you know where it might be?”

“Leviathan has no sword.” She pushed herself away from the edge and swam back a bit allowing her to see her whole body. Her torso was small and elegant, her tail way longer than he imagined but graceful. Her moves were playful as if she wanted him to jump in there and swim with her. Cor was curious about her, wanted to ask her so many questions about where she came from, how she lived here…but he was also attracted. He vaguely remembered sailors from Galahd talking about mermaid spell and wondered if that was it, but he didn’t mind.

“There is a legend that Leviathan forged a sword and threw it somewhere in these caves. A blade made of corals and sea metals, harder than any other blade.” Cor repeated the words exactly as Weskham had told them, he hadn’t bothered to read the book where the legend came from.

“There is no such sword, Cor Leonis.” Every time she pronounced his name he just wanted to jump in the water after her and run his fingers through her hair. He looked to the side again. That was silly, she was a mermaid, he was a human he had no business with her, it was just some weird spell than he was under. “There is, however, a sword here.”

“What sword?” he pinned his eyes on hers hoping that probably that was Leviathan’s sword, she probably just didn’t know about it.

“A sword. Many years ago, a man came here and threw it in the lake. He said the sword was given to him but he was not worthy of it. We took the sword and the man never came back.” She was cocking her head again probably studying him. If there was a man here before him, maybe he wasn’t the first man she was seeing, but then why was she so curious about him?

“Who was the man?” Cor made another step closer and knelt so he could be a bit closer to her eye level.

“His name was Gilgamesh.” She answered and smiled.

Few things happened in Cor’s mind at that moment. He was completely disarmed by that smile. If she had asked him to stab himself in the throat right now he probably would have done it. But there was something else. Jealousy and even regret. Gilgamesh had been here, he had talked to her, he had seen her. Yet another place where his immortal rival was better than him. Cor’s jaw clenched, he could feel anger boiling in his heart.

“Wait, how old are you if you were here when Gilgamesh came?” it suddenly hit him that Gilgamesh was here most likely in his mortal shape. That didn’t sound right.

“I wasn’t here.” She giggled. “Mermaids live long, but not that long. It’s just a story that is passed amongst the merfolk. We gave him the sword long time ago and he eventually returned it to us. He deemed himself unworthy hence he returned the blade. The sword has no meaning to us, I don’t know why he returned it.”

“Can I see the sword?” Cor thought that maybe the legend was true. It made sense in his mid that the mermaid might not know it was Leviathan’s sword, if it was related to Leviathan at all. Even humans didn’t remember their own history correctly and accurately, if Gilgamesh was involved in that the sword was thousands of years old.

She didn’t give him an answer but disappeared in the water. He was alone again wondering what he would do if she never came back. So, there was a sword here, there was some point into diving in the cave, but there was still the risk of getting stuck somewhere. Cor also wondered about her. Mermaids were not real or at least so he used to think. He wasn’t an impulsive man in regards to feelings and his desires, but he was happy to make an exception in this case. She was so beautiful…

Few minutes later he saw a sword appear from the water, a small hand wrapped around the sheath. The mermaid appeared shortly after, her golden hair glittering from the dim light. She was too far for him to reach the sword unless he went in the water.

“I will give you the sword, Cor Leonis, but there is a condition.” She swam closer to him, now the weapon was within his arms reach, but so was she. “I want you to kiss me.”

“Uh…” Cor stared like complete idiot at her. He wanted to kiss her. It just felt so strange. Women never came to him to ask him things like that. They were all charmed by him being Cor the Immortal, the young prodigy in the Crownsguard and that annoyed him. He felt that everyone wanted to be with him because of his name not because of who he was. Maybe some of them actually did but he was so suspicious towards their intentions. He wasn’t Clarus, he didn’t possess the charm the young shield had, nor his skill with words. Cor was straight to the point, rarely tactful and had no idea how to sugarcoat words. But here he was face to face with the most beautiful creature he had ever seen and she wanted to kiss him.

He leaned forward, his chest completely pressed against the cold stone. She was at the edge of the lake looking at him, her lips so close. Cor moved a bit closer, her wet hand touched his face and her lips pressed against hers. Heat ran through his whole body and he realized he didn’t want just to press his lips against hers. He wanted more, but was she going to allow him? He moved a hand on her face, touching her skin and slowly running is fingers in her hair. He pulled her head as close as it was physically possible to her and ran his tongue over her lips. For his surprise she opened her mouth just a bit which was enough for him to sneak his tongue inside and kiss her even deeper and more passionate. She tasted sweet and salty at the same time, he never imagined he would like combination of the two, but here he was enjoying this kiss more than any other.

As their lips parted he didn’t move, he didn’t want to move. She was still close to him, looking at him but there was some sort of confusion in her eyes.

“I’m sorry…” he said a bit sheepishly. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No…” he ran a finger over her lips, right where his tongue had touched them. “I’ve just…never kissed anyone before.” He could swear she was blushing which felt so weird. She had seemed so confident and playful, but now she seemed confused and he could feel his whole body screaming to touch her and calm her down.

“You didn’t like it?” Cor was fairly confident in his ability to kiss, he didn’t consider himself an expert, but he never got any complains about it either. “That’s not how the merfolk does it?”

“No…” she shook her head. “I actually don’t know how he merfolk does it. There is only handful of us left and all the males have been killed.”

There was sadness in her voice and he understood. The change in her demeanor had nothing to do with him. The pain in her voice wasn’t because of him. He wanted to help, not just because the sight of her was making his heart race and his groin ache, but he felt like that would be the right thing to do.

“The sword is yours, Cor.” She pulled the weapon out of the water and placed it on the cold stone. Then she turned around and was about to swim away but Co had good reflexes and caught her wrist.

“Wait.” She didn’t fight him, but he had to loosen his grip a bit. Her wrist fell so small compared to his hand and felt so fragile he was worried he might break it. “I want to see you again. Can I see you again?”

“Maybe.” She managed to wiggle her wrist free and disappeared in the water leaving him there on the stone edge.

 As he walked outside of the cave Clarus and Cid were having some argument, probably again about something pointless nobody cared about.

“Hey, look who is back, and he has a new sword!” Regis interrupted the argument and went to Cor. “Is that Leviathan’s?”

Cor just shrugged. He didn’t feel like talking about it.

“Did someone kick your ass there again, boy?” Cid asked as he pulled the sword from Cor’s hands and took it out of the sheath. “Oh, that is a pretty blade and an old one.”

“Let’s go.” Cor took the sword back and went to the car, he was ready to leave.

“Hey wait a second, kid.” Clarus ran to him and pulled him by the shoulder. “You just went in there and came back with something probably older than Insomnia itself. Tells us what happened.”

“Don’t call me kid.” Cor growled at him and opened the driver’s door. He wasn’t a kid he was twenty-five, he could take care of himself.

Clarus was about to say something else and Cor was going to jump on him if it wasn’t for Regis who placed a hand on the shield’s shoulder and just shook his head to prevent any further escalations.

In the car Cor was driving, Weskham sitting next to him, the other three at the back, Clarus and Cid having an argument about the sword’s age. Cor didn’t care, it was Gilgamesh’s sword part of him was happy he could take that from him, another part of him wanted to be back in the cave.

“Wes…” he started, trying to speak as low as possible, didn’t want any of the others to overhear him. “What do you know about mermaids?”

“Mermaids?” Weskham looked at him a bit puzzled but then did a very thoughtful ‘hmm’. “Well, not much. They are old creatures. The legend goes that Leviathan created mermaids, or sirens, to help her, serve her…basically for whatever Leviathan might need them. There are various stories about them, mostly coming from sailors. I don’t know how many of them are true. Some claim that mermaids try to lure sailors in deep sea and kill them, some say that mermaids have the ability to look like beautiful women. In fact, they are no different than fish, but their magic makes them attractive. I do not know how much of that is true, what I know is that the Empire has been hunting them for centuries now. I doubt there are many of them left. Did you see a mermaid in the cave?”

“You saw a mermaid?” Clarus pushed himself between the two front seats. “Did she give you the sword? Did she ask something in return?”

Cor just sighed and pressed the break suddenly making the shield almost fly through the windshield.

[silverfoxes-showdown]

🚨 DUPLICATE ALERT 🚨

Clarus Amiticia is present in both Bracket A & B! Which is my mistake, my apologies.

So, some of the previously removed Grandpas have a chance to come back in the competition, and take his place in Round 1-B against Abraham Van Helsing.

[whostarlockeda03]

Here are my days 4, 5, and 6 for FFXV Fatherly Week! (Sorry I got massively delayed posting them!) These feature Mors and Cor, Cor and Prompto, and Mors and Regis!

Day 4: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32161297

Day 5: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32163088

[child-of-scorpio]

So, did anybody else realize that gladiolus is a flower?

I was just looking up Gladio to see how tall he was and I only typed in his name and guess what popped up? A flower. So I decided to read a little bit of it and this is what I found out:

- gladiolus is a genus of the iris family

- gladiolus is diminutive of gladius meaning sword

- sometimes called the “sword lily”

IN CONCLUSION: Gladio and Iris are the flower family.

(I tried to see if Clarus was related at all but no)

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gladiolus

[falseneun]

25-ish sad Cor with Clarus.

I’m trying a new drawing style and this look like a complete mess ugh. This one is from @whostarlockeda03’s gift fic for me titled “If I Could Turn Back Time” and I love it so much I’m about to explode. Please read itttttt!!! 😢✨

[widget-2]

Amicitia Family Morning Ramen Pep Rally a.k.a. We Love Our Calling, We Also Love Our Ramen a.k.a. Raising the Kiddos with Love & Laughter so they can Weather the Incoming Storm

Amicitia Week - Day 8 - @amicitias-week

King Cup Noodle Exists! Moogle it!

[crownsguardbar-kingsglaiveclub]

Noctis has been trying to figure out how to bring it up for weeks.

He'd had the idea in the middle of his morning routine, with his toothbrush hanging out of his mouth. Still mostly asleep, he'd happened to notice that there were three completely different razors sitting lined up across the side of the counter. His, Nyx's, and Prompto's. The two of them stayed over so often that they'd both, separately, given up and bought spares to keep at Noctis'.

His brow furrowed and mind thoroughly distracted, Noctis walks through his apartment. There are three toothbrushes in the bathroom along with the three razors. The textbooks for Prompto's Thursday classes are stacked on the coffee table, since Noctis' apartment is closer to campus and Prompto almost always spends Wednesday night here. Nyx's Coeurl-print apron is hanging in the kitchen for when he decides he's going to cook Galahdian food for them while they study.

They both practically live here already.

He has spare keys made that afternoon, but chickens out on actually bringing it up. He ends up carrying the keys around with him, waiting for the mythical 'perfect time' that doesn't seem to be appearing.

"Hey dad," he hesitates later that week, fiddling with the corner of the textbook he'd been trying to study from. "How did you ask papa to move in with you?"

Clarus pauses and puts aside the book he'd been reading to give his full attention to his middle child. Sunday evenings are traditionally Caelum Family Dinner, sometimes at the bar or down in Ardyn's basement apartment, but more usually at the house Regis and Clarus bought after moving out of the apartment above the bar when Noctis was nine. Almost everyone else is currently in the kitchen cooking (Ignis, Nyx, Regis) or in the dining room setting the table (Gladio, Prompto), and they can hear Ardyn and Iris arguing over... salad dressing?

Cor also looks up from where he'd commandeered Regis' armchair, and drops his tablet onto the side table. "Pass," he says flatly, getting up to go take a side in the dressing argument. Noctis can't help grinning at his back, and Clarus chuckles.

"Well," Clarus rubs a hand over his chin, considering the answer to Noctis' question. "Ours was a special case. After Regis' first year of university, Ardyn had already moved out on his own, and Reg didn't want to move back into his father's house without Ardyn there. I offered to let him stay with me until he could find a place, and then he never left."

Noctis makes a face at the mention of his grandfather, whom he's never actually met. He's not even entirely sure Mors Caelum is still alive, but he's gathered it's better that way. "So it just... happened?"

"That's about it," Clarus nods. "Sorry I couldn't be more help." He's clearly dying to know why Noctis asked, but unlike Regis he won't actually pry, which Noctis appreciates.

"No, I think it does help," Noctis rubs a hand over the back of his neck, knowing his cheeks are turning pink. "...I noticed earlier this week that there's three of a lot of things in my apartment."

Clarus smiles and leans over to pat his son's knee. Noctis had always been the quietest of their children, content to hang out with his siblings and Cindy and Luna and not make too many new friends. How fast he'd hit it off with Prompto had been a pleasant surprise. Clarus still isn't sure (and isn't sure he wants to know) how the two of them had then hooked up with Nyx, but it seems to be working for the three of them, and Clarus has never seen Noctis happier. "Then I think you already have your answer."

"Guess so," Noctis smiles. "Thanks dad."

It's another week before he finds the courage. He and Prompto are sitting together on the couch, Noctis with a book open against his bent knees and Prompto typing like mad on his laptop, grumbling under his breath about midnight deadlines. Nyx, free from the chains of higher education and quite content with his new role as the Crownsguard's assistant manager, smirks at them both from where he's casually doing push ups on the floor. They'd made him move around behind the couch after the first set so he'd stop distracting them.

Noctis sets his book down on the coffee table and stretches. "I'm getting coffee, Prom, want anything while I'm up?"

Prompto glances up briefly and offers him a smile. "Juice if we've got it, thanks."

Noctis nods and gets to his feet, glad just to move around a little as he goes into the kitchen to get their drinks. He chews on his lower lip, and then decides to hell with it. While the coffee's brewing he pulls open a drawer and pulls out the two keychains he's had stashed there. "Hey Nyx, catch."

Nyx pushes himself up onto his knees, reaching up automatically to catch the small metallic object being tossed at his head. He opens his hand, blinking down at the small plush Tonberry keychain and the key attached to it. For a moment he doesn't get it, and then it clicks and his eyes dart back up to Noctis. "You're giving me a key to your place?"

"Our place," Noctis corrects, smiling when he sees Prompto start to pout and tossing his other boyfriend the other key and its fluffy Chocobo keychain. "It's okay Prom, I bought two."