#galahdian fashion

[charlottedabookworm]

@sparklecryptid @hamelin-born @distressedherbalist Right, so have a possible reveal for the Phoenix!Nyx AU, which I am not writing: ---- Nyx is the only one to see it. (Which was honestly a little worrying – considering that Nyx wasn’t even meant to be there anyway. He was off duty and in civies, had only stopped by the citadel because Lib had managed to forget his phone when he went to work and he’d asked Nyx to bring it to him) But, in a room full of Crownsguard and ‘glaives, he was the only one to see the blade headed towards the Prince’s throat. He doesn’t even think, just reacts – warping directly in front of the kid and bringing his spare knife up to disarm the assassin, even as the blade slid between his ribs. (Fuck. That hurt. He always forgot how much mortal wounds hurt – and this was mortal, he could feel it in his soul) Libertus is there in the next second, supporting him, even as the King throws up a barrier and the Crownsguard and ‘Glaive moved to apprehend the assassin – but Nyx doesn’t move, not until Lord Clarus takes up his place in front of the royals. The moment that he does, Nyx collapses – leaning his weight into Lib as he struggled to draw air. “You complete fucking idiot.” Nyx choked on a laugh, blood sputtering past his lips. Lord Clarus’ face was set in stern disapproval, while Prince Noctis looked horrified at Nyx’s state and Libertus’ words – but Nyx knew that this was how Lib showed he cared. “Love you-“ He coughed harshly, “Love you too, Lib.” His smirk disappeared into a grimace as he was set on the ground, jolting his injuries. “Oi, have a little respect for a dying man.” Lib glared back at him, though Nyx could see how much this was affecting – he’d always hated it when Nyx died. “You shouldn’t have thrown yourself in front of a knife then.” Nyx sputtered out another laugh, giving his best friend the finger. He coughed again, worse this time, and had to fight back a scream as his muscles tensed around the blade still embedded in his sternum. Motherfucking bastard of a coeurl-smuggler. The pain radiated across his entire body, seemingly magnifying as the adrenaline faded from his system. He’d known from the offset that the wound would kill him, no matter what kind of medical attention he got, but keeping the blade in place just slowed that down. Fuck that shit. Nyx gripped the blade with blood-stained hands, inhaling sharply at the pain as he yanked it out – ignoring the protests of literally everyone around him. (He’d take a short and quick death over drawn-out agony any day) Finally, he could feel familiar fire burning in his veins – rising from his soul to consume him, a warmth that was as comforting as it was painful. Within seconds his skin was alight – flicking with the flames of his rebirth, bright and young and healing – as the world fades away from him and all he knows is fire. He could feel his body changing, the pain of a forced shift almost inconsequential compared to the feeling of freedom that being in his birth form gave him. (Nyx liked being human, and most days he was as much human as he was Phoenix. But, still, nothing compared to the feeling that came from having his wings out and his fire raging – he never felt freer than he did as a phoenix. It was addicting) It takes a couple of moments for his flames to bank again, to settle back down to embers in his soul, and then Nyx is shaking ash out of his feathers and stretching his wings – feeling the odd but familiar combination of achy and energetic that burning always does to him. Suddenly, like a switch has been flicked, his awareness of the outside world comes back – he can hear the shocked exclamations, the cut off “what the fuck” from Cor, can feel the fascinated gazes. Giving a joyful trill, he flies up to rest on Libertus’ shoulder – batting at his friend’s head with a single wing and laughing as he curses. “Oi! You bloody over dramatic flaming-chocobo!” Nyx squawked in protest – he wasn’t a chocobo – and Lib smiled at his win even as he adjusted his stance so that Nyx’s perch on his shoulder was more stable. He batted at him again, pecking at the side of his head, to tell him that he would really prefer some clothes and if Lib would just get on with all of this already. Noting that this was apparently going to take a while, he took the opportunity to scan the room: taking in the way that the assassin had been removed by the ‘glaives not distracted by him, the way that most of the Lucian’s were looking at him as though he was an oddity, the way that the King and Lord Clarus fascinated, the way that Cor just looked like he should have expected this, the way that the Prince looked both shocked and relieved that Nyx hadn’t died for him. Finally, Nyx’s gaze focused on the pile of ash that he had just flown out of – letting out a sadly resigned noise when all that remained of his clothing was a few burnt scraps. Damn it. That had been his favourite jacket.

[a-world-in-grey]

Sola/Blood of My Blood - Coming of Age III

@secret-engima and here’s part three as a belated christmas/new year’s present!

.

They arrive at the banquet hall shortly after Noctis and his Retinue. They’ve got their own glaive tailing them - Pelna, if Sola remembers the short list of glaives her brother won’t accidentally toss out a window for getting too close.

A list Luche, Axis, and Tredd are not on. Noctis is trying, they’re her Retinue, her chosen brothers, but he doesn’t trust easily anymore and if anyone understands the irrational effects of trauma, it’s the Galahdians. So they keep a polite distance, Nyx dropping back to take Tredd’s vacant spot at her left as they come to a stop between Prompto and Ignis.

The suits are Ignis’ influence. All black - suit, shirt, vest, tie, and pocket square - with silver detailing on the cuff links, tie, and pocket square. The vest has more silver in an absolutely stunning embroidery, but it’s not visible and Sola only knows about it because she took Noctis’ initial measurements and did the final fitting because letting a stranger get close to Noctis with anything remotely sharp is just asking for a catastrophe.

Sola wishes Ignis was able to do the same for Papa. Luche might complain about her fashion choices but at least she’s never worn pinstripes!

The colorful Galahdian outfits hardly merit more than a glance from Noctis and his Retinue. Sola warned Noctis how they’d be dressed weeks ago, and this isn’t the first time Ignis and Gladio have seen Galahdian formal wear, since Sola’s always made a point to wear such ever since her adoption into the Clans even when attending formal functions as Sword to her missing King. Prompto doesn’t have the experience with Lucian formal events to know what is and isn’t unusual.

One look at her little brother’s expression tells her all she needs to know how much Noctis is not looking forward to this. And already hyper-aware, he's going to give himself a stress migraine before dinner is done at this rate- "Can I do your hair?" Sola blurts.

Noctis blinks, brow furrowing in confusion, but his focus is on Sola and not the banquet hall beyond the double doors. He raises a hand to the feather-fine strands, but doesn't quite touch the low ponytail. "Is there something wrong with it?"

"If I don't get to wear a ponytail," Sola says, sticking her nose in the air with an exaggerated huff, "neither do you."

Libertus grins wryly when Noctis' Retinue glance at him. "She already got ta me."

Noctis' lips twitch in a brief smile. "I can see that." He turns, conjuring a makeshift seat out a horizontal Shield, and sits to make Sola's work easier. Her little brother has gotten very good at using Shields in unconventional and more utilitarian ways like Sola does. Sola forces herself not to think about the reason for the drastic improvement in what was Noctis' least favorite spell.

"Do you want any pins?" Sola asks, taking the comb Ignis produces for her. She's not surprised when Noctis hums a negative. Sola works quickly, braiding his hair into a simple plait and ties it off with a black hair tie. While her hands work, her brain tries to come with something for Noctis to distract himself with throughout the night. "Done."

Noctis' hand brushes her work, and he blinks in surprise at how close the braid lies to his scalp. Even his fine hair will be hard pressed to escape, and anyone trying to grab hold will find their efforts stymied.

Utilitarian, rather than ornamental.

"Thanks."

"Anytime." Sola smirks. “I've got a game for you."

Ignis eyes her. “I feel we should be concerned.”

“Nah,” Prompto disagrees. “She’s not showing teeth yet.”

There’s a moment of silence, before Gladio turns to Prompto. “Meaning?”

Prompto blinks large blue eyes up at the Shield. “She doesn’t bare her teeth unless she’s threatening someone.” Under the weight of everyone’s stares, while Gladio and Ignis look like they’re reevaluating every time they’ve seen Sola smile, Prompto fidgets. “Am I the only one who noticed?”

Nyx snickers, grinning fondly at the kid. “You’ve known Pipsqueak-” Nyx casually leans out of range of the hand aimed at his gut, “-for what, a couple months and already figured that out? I’m impressed. His Highness sure knows how to choose them.”

“You say that ‘cause you needed six months and a broken nose.” Libertus deadpans.

"How was I supposed to know those were threats?"

A trio of snorts sound from behind them. Nyx shoots Luche, Tredd, and Axis a look of outrage.

"What's the game?" Noctis asks.

"Finding the most hideous outfit by the end of the night." Sola says brightly. With the recent trends in Lucian high fashion, they won't be short on options. As though both of them can hear her thoughts, Ignis and Luche twitch.

Noctis smirks. "I'm game."

"Ooh! Can we play too?" Prompto asks.

"Only if you want Ignis or Luche to win."

Prompto studies the two Hands with a thoughtful look, then grins. "I'll take that challenge!”

Perfect. “We’ll compare in the morning.” Sola says. She waves a hand towards the double doors. “After you, Little Brother.”

“See you at the bottom.” Noctis takes a fortifying breath and straightens, then nods for the servants to open the doors and sweeps into the banquet hall, pausing to allow the usher to announce him and his Retinue. At Prompto’s introduction the slight lull in ambient chatter vanishes, but Prompto's chin is high and his shoulders straight as he follows Noctis down the stairs and out of Sola's line of sight.

Axis, Tredd, and Luche retake their positions in the formation. Nyx brushes his magic against her in a silent query. "No yet." Sola murmurs, barely loud enough to reach her Sword's hearing. "Wait for Noctis to reach Papa." They're putting on a show - it would be rude to start before Noctis and Papa finish their formalities and can fully appreciate it.

Now, if only Sola could still stretch her own senses that far, that would be fantastic.

The usher glances over to them, wondering over their delay, and Sola can see the exact moment the man registers their clothes and quietly despairs. Sola's lips twitch up into a smile. The poor man knows Sola well.

"Now." Axis says, and the formation around Sola and Libertus changes.

Luche and Tredd fall back to flank Axis. Nyx also falls back, sliding to Libertus' right and allowing him to pass before taking position behind as Axis drifts left to take up position behind Sola. The entire maneuver finishes before Sola and Libertus cross the threshold of the banquet hall, as smooth and disciplined as only the Kingsglaive at their best can be.

After Noctis and his Retinue, they're a riot of color. Blue, green, purple, yellow, grey, and orange, stark against the black and gold.

"Presenting Her Royal Highness Sola Ostium of House Caelum, Princess of Lucis, Chief of Clan Ostium, Sword of Crown Prince Noctis Lucis Caelum, His Royal Majesty's Kingsglaive."

The crowd, still murmuring excitedly from Noctis' introduction, quiets when the usher announces her surname. In the lull, the man's next announcement is perfectly clear- "Escorted by her husband, His Highness Libertus Ostium of Clan Ostium, Prince-Consort of Lucis, His Royal Majesty's Kingsglaive."

And there goes the chatter. And the cameras, ow the flash.

Sola keeps her spine straight and her head high with every bit of royal arrogance she can muster. Libertus is a solid presence at her side as they descend the stairs slowly enough for her Retinue to keep pace as they are announced to the court.

Lord Axis Arra of Clan Arra, son of House Amicitia, Shield of Princess Sola Ostium, His Royal Majesty's Kingsglaive.

Nyx Ulric, Chief of Clan Ulric, Sword of Princess Sola Ostium, His Majesty's Kingsglaive.

Tredd Furia of Clan Furia, Heart of Princess Sola Ostium, His Majesty's Kingsglaive.

Luche Lazarus of Clan Lazarus, Hand of Princess Sola Ostium, His Majesty's Kingsglaive.

At the bottom of the stairs, Papa gives her a smile and a brush of fond-exasperation-grudging amusement in his magic. Sola smiles back, more than pleased with the whispers racing across the room and utterly shameless about it. "Your Majesty." She greets formally. "Crown Prince Noctis."

"Your Majesty. Your Highness." Libertus echoes genially.

"Princess Sola. Prince Libertus." Papa replies, lips only barely twitching from his polite smile. Uncle Cor holds no such reservations and is smirking at her next to a masterfully stoic Uncle Clarus.

Noctis echoes the formalities, relief edging out the wariness in his eyes. Prompto beams at her. Gladio's smirk is a match for Uncle Cor's, but it's the ever so slight curl to Ignis' lips and the gleam in his eyes as he dips his head to Sola that gives Sola's own smile a vicious edge of satisfaction.

Of everyone in Noctis' Retinue, he's the only one who'll immediately pick up all the nuances of Sola and Libertus' introductions without having to be told beforehand. She can already see his brain kicking into high gear, cataloguing the reactions around them to analyze and use later.

True to expectations, half the nobles that swarm them beeline specifically for Sola and Libertus. Those who don't are too distracted to ask about Noctis' disappearance or his health.

Gossipy hens.

This is only the beginning, Sola knows as the dinner bell rings and everyone is herded away to their seats. The first rush is always the greedy and the nosy, those insecure in their status and looking for any favor they can find. Annoying, but easily distracted by the newest and shiniest thing dangled in front of their noses.

The others will prove more challenging. They have the patience to wait and watch while others surge forward.

Noctis takes his place at Papa's right, then Ignis, Gladio, and Prompto. As Sword and a royal of higher 'rank' than Libertus, Sola should sit next to Prompto. As a pregnant Lucis Caelum in a technically vulnerable state, protocol allows for Sola to be bracketed on either side by her own spouse and Retinue. It hasn't been used since Merula the Honest - the Wise's grandmother. So it's no surprise that Libertus taking the seat next to Prompto draws a fair few frowns. No one actually dares comment after Papa barely glances at Libertus' supposed social gaffe. Papa knows Sola will cheerfully toss protocol out the window the first chance she gets. Of all the rules she could be breaking, giving Libertus 'her' seat isn't something to kick up a fuss over.

Sola's Retinue taking the seats to her right extends the buffer between Noctis and the nobles. Conversation isn't impossible, but it won't be easy and Sola can easily interject when needed. Given how Carmen's little brother Aedes is already staring at Noctis, Sola gets the feeling she'll be doing a lot of that.

Leaning forward under the pretense of adjusting her skirts, Sola catches Aedes' gaze and gives him a pointed look. The younger man blinks, flushes, then quickly faces forward again to busy himself with the first course being brought out.

Sola turns to her own food and settles in for a long couple of hours.

Oh well. No rest for wicked

[reveredhearts]

DON’T REBLOG .

I’m admittedly still figuring Calluna out as an OC muse, but I have plenty of time to do so and with that (hopefully) entails plenty of interactions with other XV muses soooo

in the meantime enjoy a moodboard for Mama Amicitia 🥰

top left vs top right: as I headcanon her to be Galahdian having immigrated with her family to Insomnia in her early to mid twenties after the Niflheim occupation, I wanted two differentiating pictures to represent the parallels of her culture of origin’s fashion vs the fashion of the Insomnian culture she eventually ended up both adapting into, and marrying into with Clarus.

middle left: take this to represent her with either baby Gladio or baby Iris, whichever you’d like :) 

middle right: violin is one of the number of instruments she knows how to play; I touch on it in this headcanon post here !

bottom right: an image of Heather flowers — for her name translating, in Latin, to “resembling Heather”, or alternatively, being derived from the botanical term Calluna vulgaris which also translates roughly to “common Heather”.

[prowlingthunder]

Last Line Challenge

@mtraki reached out to be a monster and ask me what my last line written was even though I don’t even know what I wrote last WAS, so I guess I just. need to grab a few.

Edit: Why the kriff is there a underline option if you WONT KEEP THE THINGS UNDERLINED, tumblr? why?

Unnamed - Star Wars Cody/OC genderbender shortfic for @ellis-thescribbler:

Which, judging from the look Mir was throwing him, she probably did; resistance was apparently a thing Mir couldn’t build up against his pheromones. 

Son of Sands - Star Wars Shmi Lupercalia fic:

In return they slip her wupiupi, and she buries the golden coins away back home.

Untitled - Revan Lupercalia fic for @revanchxst:

The attentions from patients and facility alike was sharp, like a blooming knife of hope, and she already felt guilty frustration, knowing she would still have to tell them this was the most that could would be offered; empty platitudes and hollow reassurances that it would get better, kolto to mend hurts but not the strength to keep them from getting hurt again, or getting hurt in the first place.

D’appel Du Vide - Ameretat Sempiternal Energy prequel: 

Perhaps she had set a fashion trend?

Untitled - RPF Fiction for @lepirevan: 

Laying the groundwork out.

Black Cats and Broken Mirrors - chapter 5: 

He didn’t want to go anyway.

[Redacted] - zinework: 

[Redacted]

[Redacted] - zinework:

[Redacted]

A General Gift - FFXV ABO first heat fic:

The rumble deepened, like a satisfied purr, and then silver swayed downward, furrowed pauldrons throwing light in strange directions, the ridge of a cheekbone scraping his jaw as lips pressed against his throat.

snowchild - FFXV Lupercalia fic: 

(It meant he wasn’t human.)

The Feral Coeurl of Galahd - FFXV Galahdian!Cor:

It was a past time Regis enjoyed with him on occasion, though much less since his wedding to Aulea.

Untitled - FFXV Rav/Prom Arranged marriage mermaid AU for @absolutelynoct:

He snarled, piercing another MT where it stood and hurling it aside.

Dawnfire - FFXV Kingsglaive fic:

A potion didn’t do anything for an infection.

Untitled - FFXV Scourgeverse Triplets AU: 

Not when something was easily done to remedy it, like the fire burning she had left up ahead.

Untitled - Fallout 4 Silas/Courser for @egodominustuus: 

To responsibility, which wouldn’t let him linger in depression or too-quick kisses.

Winter Animals - Fallout 4 fic: 

It doesn’t sound like anything in the wild, which honestly makes it somewhat worse, all told.

The Devil’s Luck - chapter 3: 

She wouldn’t have hated the woman on the center stage, Silas didn’t think.

Untitled - Dark Matter Hiro-centric Lupercalia fic: 

Until Ryo’s call, he thought he had lost them both.

Untitled - Fallout 3/Killing Stalking A3-21 fic: 

Some communities are like that.

Untitled - YYH/Naruto Kurama-with-kids fic: 

Kurama asked for a job.

Untitled - Hobbit/Ronin Warriors fic: 

“Oh yes. Apparently I could die.”

Untitled - BtVS/Witcher Halloween fic: 

The scent of Giles’ cologne, sharp and sad; the smell of his magic (he had magic!) and the oil on his blades, so strong she could nearly taste it.

Birds of a Feather - Bloodborne Eileen fic: 

No sign of it, though, not on anything, and no overpowering scent of incense plugging her nose.

Empty Letters for the Yiling Patriarch - Untamed fic: 

As it stood, the invitation was placed in a location of honor in his quarters, and Wei Ying would rather cut his arm off than let go of it.

There are some others. I’ll put them of for now. Uhm. Lesse... tagging @revanchxst @linwyrms-lair @ellis-thescribbler @momokitty27 @egodominustuus

[rolerei]

Fashion AU - Noctis x Reader - Pining - Slowburn

Rating: M

Chapter: 3/26

Summary:  Noctis is a young designer in search of a model for a prestigious fashion design competition. You're a third year university student on the brink of a burnout. In the City That Never Sleeps, your paths crossed.

In This Chapter: You fulfilled Noctis' invitation to visit Regalia's studio again, only to find out that he wasn't there. Luckily, Ignis and Prompto were available for some awkward chat.

-

Just outside of the campus grounds, Ignis pulled over next to the pedestrian path without forgetting to turn the blinkers on. Noctis opened the passenger’s door and rode shotgun. Neither of them talked, and the car was filled with awkward silence as Ignis drove into the busier part of downtown Insomnia.

“So you told her who you really are,” was the first thing that Ignis said out loud.

“Ugh. I’m sorry, okay?” Noctis groaned. “I seriously didn’t know what else to say. She was going to call security!”

Ignis sighed. If he wasn’t on the wheel he would already be pinching at the bridge of his nose. “Well, I suppose covering your identity would be rendered moot if she ends up accepting our offer.”

“Yeah… I hope so, too.”

At the next red light, Ignis took the chance to give Noctis a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. “How did you sleep last night, by the way, Noct?”

Noctis let out a heavy sigh and leaned back against the car seat. “I did sleep a little bit. Then I couldn’t anymore, so I decided to sketch until morning.”

“Yes, I’m quite aware that you’ve been sketching.” It was Ignis' turn to sigh, remembering the sight of drawing papers scattered all around the floor when he first arrived in Noctis' apartment that morning. “What made you not able to sleep this time, Noct?”

“I had a dream, Specs. Of a Galahdian warrior queen riding out for a battle.”

Read more

[vespersilvanus]

@cureforinsomnia

It’d been a few days since Vesper got out of the infirmary; the stay there ended up being longer than usual. The lightning had done a number on their head and made it hard to stay awake- they ended up staying for observation. After that they stayed at the barracks hoping to hear anything more about their impromptu rescue of the Prince, hoping there might be some details about the people responsible; after another few days there they were basically forced to go home to rest.

So that was where they found themselves now, just before evening, walking the same rundown streets that smelled strongly of Galahdian cooking, sipping a lukewarm coffee from some random chain of cafes. They cut through a back alley, turned left at the underpass where the lights never worked, under a bridge that constantly dripped and finally along the narrow darkened alley at the side of their apartment building.

They stood at the top of the chipped and crooked brick stairs, digging through their pockets trying to find the keys that would open the heavy steel door in front of them.

Vespers hands came back empty, “Shit.” Thinking back they couldn’t remember when the last time they actually saw the keys…. Taking out their phone they scrolled to one of maybe four contacts they had and typed out a quick message- they hesitated to hit send. It was the only person that came to mind but they were also very important and probably wouldn’t remember anyway; they’re just a Glaive after all, one of hundreds. Vesper sighed and hit send.

‘Hey uhh weird question, but did you happen to find a set of keys while you had my jacket?’

They finished off the last of the coffee, tossing the cup in the dumpster at the side of the building. If they looked up far enough, they could just make out where the window of their place was. A thought struck- they could reach that, maybe…

‘It’s cool if you haven’t; I can get in the window.’

‘I think… hold on.’

Vesper looked around a bit, there were some ledges and pipes; they didn’t have anything to throw and the doctor said to avoid warping for at least two weeks- so they’d have to do this the old fashioned way.

The old style brick work on the side and the moldings around the windows would work for grabbing but that’s all; it wouldn’t be the first time climbing a building but it would be the tallest.

 Taking longer than expected Vesper finally rolled through the window of their apartment. Laughing at the ridiculousness of having to scale a building to get home; they laid in a crumple heap in the floor, one boot still up on the window sill, there was a new hole in the knee of their jeans.

They sent a selfie along with the last messages in a brash decision, riding the high of successfully breaking into their own home.

 ‘Broke the drain pipe’

‘And a window’

‘but I’m in.’

Vesper was on the ground, old wooden floorboards sparkling with bits of glass; their jacket and sweater a rumpled mess, the hood had fallen down covering one eye, the lens of their new glasses peeking out the other. A lop sided grin making it difficult to see the last of the fading lightning scars on their face. A lazy and out of focus thumbs up filled the corner of the frame.

 ‘so uhh if you happen to find keys let me know.’

[hyperionswrath--archived]

papers

nsfw prompt list

papers. our muses getting frisky in an office / work setting Somehow, things had taken a weird turn. Initially, Seifer had sought out the Marshal to hand in the latest reports (overdue, of course, and after having been reminded at least three times by the stoic man), knuckles rapping on the man's door in the Citadel. He didn't come here often and also did not relate many positive memories with the place, which was one reason he appeared to be tardy all the time.

However, the Marshal seemed to be in good spirits, quite literally, as he offered the tall blond some of his seemingly never-ceasing supply of Galahdian Whiskey once he spied the disgruntled look on Seifer's face. A brief discussion of the latest mission followed, Cor being his usual, stoic self - with the exception of a certain shimmer in his eyes that wasn't lost to the blond, who however did not know where to place the expression.

Thas was, until they both stood in front of the Marshal's desk, intel and his report spread out next to a map when their shoulders brushed up against each other. Seifer didn't realize it at first until the touch lingered. Glancing at the Marshal from the corner of his eyes, he then quirked an inquisitive brow at the man. He had known Cor for about a decade now - granted, without too much regular contact, but he knew the man to be a quiet, composed one, and usually invading someone's private space was not in the cards with him.

"I received a certain message from you last night," the brunet set to speak at length, a strange underlying tone in his voice. Seifer stayed uncharacteristically silent at that, mind rolling back and forth to what exactly he had sent the Marshal the night before when he'd clearly been occupied with .... .... ... oh. If he felt embarrassed or taken aback by the fact he'd send his lewd message to the entirely wrong person, Seifer didn't show it, his face carefully blank as his brow wandered a little higher still.

"Was that supposed to end up on my phone...?" Cor queried with a hint of mirth in his eyes now. Seifer turned, leaning his hip against the desk, a smirk tugging at his lips. "No," he deadpanned, tilting his head a little to the side to gauge what the Marshal would make of this. Still, both men were standing in unusually close proximity, the brunet huffing at the response received. "You should be more careful about what you're doing when..." Trailing off, the Immortal looked down at the other man's lips, which were still smiling - challenging him?

"True, but honestly, I'd hate to let a message like this go to waste?" Seifer had hummed the words teasingly, gaze of emerald eyes long since wandered south where he could spy clear signs of the otherwise always so composed man clearly being affected by something for once. "And apparently, you liked what you heard?"

The tension between both men was something new then, nothing like when they sparred once every blue moon, albeit not completely different. Anticipation and a hint of danger lingered in a similar fashion until Cor's hand lifted and was placed in Seifer's neck with purpose, the grip strong yet not forceful. "I did," the man spoke at length, voice slightly hoarse, the sound earning him an even broader grin from the blond.

The Glaive chuckled then, pressing himself off the support of the desk, slowly getting down on his knees before the Marshal, green eyes full of that arrogance which hardly ever dissipated and made it seem like he was looking down at the other man, even when kneeling to his feet.

"Well, I for one am not above having a little fun either way... Sir," the blond murmured as deft fingers made quick work of Cor's belt, opening his pants and leaning in to get to work.

Warmth engulfing the Marshal as clever hands helped along, precise squeezes at the right time paired with a slick tongue lapping, jade-greens occasionally glancing up to see startled surprise soon had faded in favor for bliss, hands curling into golden locks as his movements were directed more intently. Soon sounds of pleasure filled the usually quiet office, Cor having moved just enough to lean against his desk, one hand seeking purpose on the edge of the same, uncaring that he send paperwork flying in the process.

Increasing both intensity and speed of his caring, Seifer easily found which buttons to push to coax more of those sounds from the other man's throat, quite enjoying the process of unraveling and picking apart the famed Immortal in such a way that pleasure soon washed over the man, filling his mouth with a strong tug on blond hair forcing himself deeper. Not hesitating, Seifer swallowed around the other before pulling back and getting to his feet again, wiping over his chin and mouth with the back of a gloved hand.

"My pleasure, Sir."

[ertrunkenerwassergeist]

Galahdian Culture Masterpost

People have been asking about a masterpost for my culture work (mostly Galahd, because let’s be real, that’s my baby), but I never started because working through 3 years of posts is one heck of a workload.

But in the face of FFXVs 6th anniversary I did the deed and sat my ass down. I did my best to catch all the tags and posts, but I can’t guarantee nothing fell through the crags. (Just as a tiny disclaimer.)

I’ll do my best to keep adding to this in the future.

So. Let’s get started! (I put it under the cut because this got kinda long XD)

The Galahdian Clans

Symbols, Colours and Beads Part 1

Symbols, Colours and Beads Part 2

Clan Structure

Family Structure

Traditional Occupations

Companies and Businesses

Social Standing and Inter Clan Negotiations

Choosing a Clan Head

Difference between Clan and Family

Lore behind Clan Names

Naming Practices for Children

Rivalries and Feuds   -   Post 1

Government

Cünaniu - Small Gathering - Great Gathering

Laws

Age of majority

Architecture

Very rough description/Solarpunk

Characters

Titus Drautos Backstory

Crowe Backstory

Culture

Tattoos

Post 1

Post 2

Braids

Post 1

Post 2

Post 3

Beads

Post 1

Post 2

Dances

Post 1

Post 2

Colour Meanings   -   Orange

Music

Tea

Fashion   -   Shoes   -   Kaskarfa and Schiroh

Courting/Dating

Courting Gifts    -    Necklace vs. Bracelet

Weddings

Divorce and Remarriage   -   Remarriage 2

Work/Jobs not tied to a Clan

Tourism

Chocolate   -    Chocolate Part 2

School System (very roughly)

Food    -    Kreitschi   -   Bahmon

Movies   -   Plays   -   Theatre

Feuds and Honour Duels

Hair Shaving

Money (Gari)

Hospitals

Legends of Galahd

The Story of Adrastea, She Who Speaks the Tongue of Beasts, and the Coeurl Who Shed Its Skin

The Snake that Shed Its Skin to Call the Spring

The Voice-that-was-many-and-one and the Sinking of the Black Ships

Gilgamesh the Betrayer

Fall of Solheim (work in progress)

The Man Who Followed the Wind

The Lover of Stories

Religion

Fathers of the Hunt

The Great Coeurl

The Wise Witch

The First Hunt

Nyx

In Insomnia

Storytellers

Birds (and crows)

Funeral Rites   -   Addition

Blood of the Coeurl

The Wooden Throne

The Importance of Names

For Heart and Home

Holidays and Celebrations

Day of Remembrance, Day of the First Storm, Longest Night, New Years

Birthdays

Namedays

Hadnissa

About the language

Hadnissa Dictionary (under that tag you can find most of what I have atm; not complete)

Hunters/Military

Post 1

Ranks within the Kingsglaive

Weaponry

Art

Spring Serpent

1

2

3

Coeurls

1

[cakelanguage]

I had the honor of being able to take part in the @fullbloomzine​ . For my piece I decided on making a headcanon that Gladio's tattoo was done as a rite of passage for Amicitia and from there decided to focus on Clarus' potential tattoos. I wanted to expand on Clarus and Regis' relationship and this is what I came up with from that.

I hope you all enjoy this!

If you wish to buy the zine

You can also read this on AO3

-

Clarus and Regis had met as boys, both of them still on the cusp of childhood, when wild adventures were still make-believe in the castle gardens. But from the very moment they met, they’d been inseparable and that did not wane with age. They shared in the hardships of following in their fathers’ footsteps and the trials and tribulations they faced, they tried to share the burden.

In each Amicitia’s life, on their eighteenth birthday, they were to get a tattoo to commemorate reaching adulthood as a homage to their original galahdian roots. As many or as few as the person desired, just as long as they got one. It didn’t have to be anything big, but it had to hold a special meaning to the person receiving the tattoo. Some went for elaborate tribal markings, others marked their skins with words to live by or an animal to guide them. Clarus’ father inscribed dates along his spine, each one denominating an important date in his life from his first day meeting King Mors to Clarus’ own birth.

Clarus, on the other hand, chose to get flowers inked on his skin.

He thought long and hard about which flower to get first, what he wanted to say with each flower. He’d spent countless hours poring through books on flowers and their meanings whilst Regis looked on in amusement while studying his own material.  

His first flower was a chrysanthemum, for loyalty and love, and placed it over his heart.

“It’s quite elegant,” Regis said, tracing the black lines on his chest. “What made you decide on this one?”

Clarus’ gaze did not waver as he wrapped his hand around Regis’ own. “It’s a promise,” he said, “a promise that I will always be loyal to you.” He gave Regis’ hand a reassuring squeeze. “And a promise to always love you.”

The blush that flourished across Regis’ face made Clarus laugh as his friend shoved him. “Don’t jest with me, Clarus.”

“Do you really think I would joke about this?”

Regis stared at him wide-eyed. “Truly?” His voice was barely a whisper, but the disbelief was clear as day. “You love me?”

Clarus gave him a soft smile and slowly pulled him into his arms. “I always have, from the very first day I met you.” Regis didn’t speak for a few moments, but Clarus was content to just hold the man in his arms. “You don’t have to say anything back, you know. I just wanted to be honest with my feelings about you. There shouldn’t be any secrets between us.”

Regis pressed his face into the crook of his neck and breathed in a deep breath. “Do you think I don’t love you the same?” He was still quiet, but his voice sounded stronger. “Of course I do, stupid.”

Clarus let out a disbelieving laugh. “That’s not very nice.”

Regis made a noncommittal noise and just hugged him closer. “Deal with it.”

He grinned and pressed a kiss against the top of Regis’ head. “I guess I’ll have to, won’t I?”

 Clarus’ next tattoo was of a red lotus, which he got on his nineteenth birthday. It started behind the chrysanthemum and branched out toward his shoulder. Regis was just as interested in this one as he had been the first one.

“It’s a lotus,” Regis murmured, looking from the tattoo back to Clarus’ face. “And what’s this one for?”

“It’s a promise of love,” Clarus said, placing a kiss against Regis’ cheek. “A promise of passion,” he emphasized with a slow kiss against Regis’ lips. He languidly kissed along Regis’ jaw before pulling back and pressing their foreheads together. “And promise to always be compassionate to your problems and take time to understand where you’re coming from and help you in any way I can.”

Regis laughed. “You really are too sweet to me, Clarus.”

Clarus shrugged. “You deserve it.”

“When did you become so romantic?”

Clarus felt his cheeks grow hot and shyly averted his gaze from the soft look in Regis’ eyes. “I might have picked up a few books or so.”

Regis’ laughter echoed throughout the room, but Clarus only felt his heart warm at the sound.

 The week before he and Regis set out on their roadtrip with Cid, Weskham, and Cor he added another tattoo to his growing collection: sunflowers that crept from his shoulders down to his shoulder blades.

“As I’m sure you’ve guessed from my previous ones, this tattoo also embodies a promise,” Clarus mentioned, slipping off his shirt.

Regis propped his chin on his fist, “Hmm, care to tell the audience?”

Clarus snorted and shook his head. “Don’t get cheeky, that’s not cute.”

“Of course it is,” Regis stood up and moseyed over towards him. “But nevermind that, dear. What do the sunflowers mean?”

“It’s to promise my dedication to weather all the storms we face together not only on this trip but throughout the rest of our lives.” He grinned at his love. “And emerge victorious on the other side.”

Regis face shuttered and his lips thinned. “This scuffle with Niflheim isn’t going to end any time soon, is it?”

Clarus’ shoulders sagged. “No, I don’t think it will.” He didn’t think it was going to end any time soon if the battle plans he’d looked at with his father were anything to go by. He watched Regis nod his head and turn away from him, but he grabbed Regis’ wrist before the man could walk away. “But I will be with you every step of the way.”

Regis gave him a brittle smile. “I expect nothing less.”

Clarus didn’t know if the tears that threatened to fall from Regis’ eyes were for the war they were about to enter or for the future that was looking more grim as time went on. He didn’t want to know.

 His next tattoo was for his son and his son’s namesake: a Gladiolus. It was a delicate looking flower but it’d been inked with thick lines to give it a stronger look. Even at his birth, Clarus knew his son was going to be strong, but he wanted his son to also be soft- to allow his son to love and show compassion along with his strength.

He’d honestly never thought he’d become a father, at least not like this. But he needed an heir just as Regis needed an heir to the throne. It didn’t mean he didn’t love Gladio with his entire being just that it was under unique circumstances.

Gladio was oblivious to Clarus’ thoughts, focused solely on the new mark on his father’s body. Clarus grinned down at the boy in his arms and let the boy gum at his bicep, pressing sticky fingers against the lines of the flower. He heard the amused guffaw and simply turned with a grin as he took in Regis’ appearance.

He looked different now that he wore the Ring of Lucii and had focused his attention on keeping the Wall fortified, but he was the same too. The same smile, the same soft look in his eyes when he looked at Clarus.

Though love had found itself in their respective partners, it would never rival the bond they shared.

“He really is adorable, Clarus,” Regis said. He brushed his hand through the hair on Gladio’s head, mussing up the strands into an unruly fashion. “And his name... was that your decision?”

Clarus laughed. “Only half my choice.”

“But you suggested it.”

“Didn’t say that.”

Regis gave Clarus a sly look. “Didn’t not say it.”

Clarus couldn’t help but laugh. Whether from being found out or the fact that they were still the same after all this time, he wasn’t sure. But he laughed all the same.

 He doesn’t get another flower until Regis’ son Noctis is prophesied as the Chosen King. He gets the tattoo that night, shoulder still wet from Regis’ tears. It’s large and branches up towards his throat, the petals harsh with stamen that stick out from the center like thin towers. For once, the flower isn’t a promise.

It’s a regret.

A regret for Noctis and the life that will be cut short because a mystical rock said it was Noctis’ destiny to drive away the Starscourge. A regret for Regis who was deteriorating before his eyes. A regret for his inability to do anything to prevent this future from coming to pass.

He stared at the asphodel on his skin and gave a bitter chuckle. “’My regrets follow you to the grave,’” he whispered, “perhaps a little too on the nose for this one.”

 His daughter is a surprise, but no less loved. She was delicate and small in comparison to how Gladio had been, but her lungs were strong and he knew that strength would carry throughout her in time. His daughter, his Iris, she gave him hope and courage to keep going despite knowing how his story would come to an end. A promise to hold onto hope and that there was still so much good left to experience.

An iris for an Iris.

Regis made sure he knew that his joke wasn’t funny, but they both laughed all the same.

 A week before the treaty signing with Niflheim, he gets two new flowers. The first is a series of jasmine flowers with petals that contrast with the asphodel that still sits as a heavy weight on his chest each time he sees it. He gets a cluster of them on his left shoulder, one flower for each precious person in his life. It’s the first flower that comes to mind when he thinks of those he holds dear.

The creases on Regis’ face soften when he sees them and Clarus can almost see the young man he fell in love with all those years ago. “Unconditional love,” Regis said with the hint of a smile tucked into the corner of his mouth. “I remember this one. You gave me a bundle of them some twenty years ago.”

Clarus smiled. “The petals were all damaged by the time I gave it to you.”

“And yet I loved them all the same.”

“That you did,” Clarus agreed nodding his head. They shared a warm look before Regis continued to explore his tattoos. After all this time, Regis still enjoyed examining them and running his hands along the inked lines.

As Regis trailed his fingers across the last jasmine flower he paused and met his eyes again. “You got another flower as well?” He furrowed his brow and tilted his head in the same way Clarus had seen Noctis do on multiple occasions. “You usually only get one at a time.” Clarus didn’t say anything in response so Regis continued. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen this one.”

“You wouldn’t, it’s a cyclamen. It usually grows only around Gralea or the colder regions.”

Regis made a curious hum and stared into Clarus’ eyes. “And it’s meaning?”

Clarus felt something clench in his chest and dropped his eyes down to Regis’ hand that still rubbed against the flower. He felt bitterness and resignation in equal measures bubble forth as he stared at the ring that stood out against Regis’ finger.

“Clarus?”

He swallowed and pulled Regis hand into his own. “It means goodbye.”

Regis’ breath hitched and his lips thinned, closing his eyes and nodding his head. “Goodbye,” Regis mumbled, shaking his head. “I will never truly say goodbye to you, not even in death.”

Clarus maneuvered himself so that he could comfortably pull Regis into his arms. If they had cried, neither mentioned it. Neither said anything else, no words were needed. Though they had a week until the day of the treaty signing, they both knew.

This was goodbye.

[hanalwayssolo]

i think i need more of that gladnyx bromance 😭 (if it’s not much trouble tho!)

ANON I LIVE AND BREATHE FOR THIS?????Tagging: @blindedstarlight @valkyrieofardyn @bleucommelhiver @azure-scientia @gowithme @emmydots @hanatsuki89 @finalfcntasy @raspberryandechinacea @theyearofdiamonddogs @itshaejinju @noboomoon

Gladio was fifteen when he was first introduced to Nyx. He was sent to spend three months with the Kingsglaive as punishment for a prank gone wrong.

The said prank involved adding a laxative on Noctis’s dinner as revenge for the one the prince sneaked into his protein shake. But to Gladio’s miserable luck, the one who ate Noctis’s food was King Regis. Noctis knew it was Gladio’s doing so he ratted him out. Of course, Clarus found out about this, hence Gladio’s “exile” away from the Crownsguard and into the cutthroat environment that is the Kingsglaive HQ.

For the first few weeks, Gladio and Nyx were at each other’s throats. They were both stubborn and painfully hot-headed, which made it even worse. Even Drautos had to intervene to stop their fucking nonsense. Everything became a competition to them: from basic drills, physical endurance tests, down to cleaning the fucking showers. They settled their arguments in arm wrestling—or good old fashioned boxing—like the true barbarians that they are.

Nyx blessed Gladio with many insulting and colourful nicknames, but Flower Boy is his most favourite. 

Who would have thought that the only time Gladio and Nyx would realize that they can actually be good bros was when Nyx taught Gladio how to braid his sister’s hair? Permit me to elaborate on this:

It should be noted that Gladio was reluctant to ask for Nyx’s help, but he knew all too well that it’s a Galahdian thing and no one could help him best other than this insufferable piece of shit. So. He went to ask Nyx, against his pride. It’s all for Iris, anyway.

Nyx was surprised to hear Gladio asking advice on how to do a braid. Of all things. And Nyx, being the pompous son of a bitch that he was, was like, “What for, little flower boy?” And Gladio, immediately defensive, was like, “Shut up, it’s for my sister. I tried showing her the ones on the Internet and she doesn’t like any of it.” And then Nyx, just at the mention of Gladio doing it for his sister, agreed in a heartbeat.

When Nyx met Iris, they clicked in an instant. Like, Nyx and Iris would have a field day making fun of Gladio, and Gladio would be like, “What the hell have I done.” Even so, the three of them hung out so frequently after that.

Nyx could not deny that watching Gladio bonding with Iris reminded him so much of Selena. When Gladio had finally asked him why he had helped, he said, “I used to do it for my sister all the time.” Gladio said nothing. He already knew what Nyx had been through, and decided not to probe any further.

Okay, so, most people believe that Gladio has always been one charming hunk of a man. Was he born with it? Well, you’re wrong. He was actually kind of awkward in his teens. He could not even ask a girl out for Homecoming without tripping in his shoes, or stuttering into his own rejection. In this case, Nyx (with a little help from Pelna, Libertus, and Luche) always came to Gladio’s rescue. With their unsolicited advice on how to talk to girls. How they knew of Gladio’s adolescent woes is beyond him.

“Consider us your fairy godbros, if you will,” Pelna had said. “Today, I shall teach you how to live.” In which Pelna goes into an effort of sharing some of his cheesiest pick-up lines that are, quite frankly, strangely good???

Look, look, look. There has been a circulating rumour around the Citadel hat Nyx has already slept with half of the women (and men) in the Lucian Force, and he swears upon his life that all of these claims are nothing but horseshit. “These people just do not know how to fucking count,” is what he usually says. Jokingly. But jokes are half meant. Anyway. Despite his dastardly reputation, he still spares some excellent dating advice—much to Gladio’s surprise. And by excellent dating advice, Nyx might seem like the type to break hearts (which he is, according to most of his exes, even if he refuses to acknowledge it) but he’s also the guy who insists to always, always treat your partner right.

“Maybe you might want to follow your own advice so you could keep a serious relationship, hero,” Libertus would often say, casually pouring in some scalding tea for his best friend. Nyx could only respond with a scowl, because, well. He knows he deserves the tea.

Having been born and raised in the tropical isles of Galahd, Nyx is a naturally an outdoorsman by heart. Nyx, along with Libertus and Luche, often dragged young Gladio to trek into the mountains in Leide. By the time Gladio was twenty-three, the four of them had been planning to hike the illustrious Rock of Ravatogh, until the treaty signing came up.

It shouldn’t be a surprise that Nyx’s love for the outdoors has rubbed off on Gladio. And everytime he pitches that tent, camping underneath the stars with Noctis, Ignis, and Prompto, he is always reminded of that short yet brief time with his Glaive friends.

[a-world-in-grey]

Sola, to the royal tailors before her wedding: “Only one of us is wearing a skirt, and it’s not me.”

Crowe, after she and Nyx get roped in as Maid of Honor and Best Man, with a glare that says any skirts foisted on her will be set on fire, “Same.”

Nyx, when the tailors turn to stare at him and Lib, “I’ll have you know I look fantastic in a skirt.”

Meanwhile Lib is quietly Losing His Shit in the back at this introduction of Galahdian Traditional Wear to Insomnian Fashion.

[toilalo]

@ahundredwars​ || Tea Time

Music was playing softly in the quaint little shop as Nyx walked in, plants hanging in every section they could possibly fit. To his right were shelves lined with little accessory items that -- upon closer inspection -- were actually for sale. They were anywhere from tiny terrariums to beautiful crystals, some fashioned into jewelry and others left in their natural state. To his right was a large window, one that offered him a view into what looked to be a small in-store greenhouse. Inside it was filled with small trees, some vines and other small plants he couldn’t really make out, and flowers. The counter in front of him at the back of the store was split in half, the right being an actual counter and the left a glass case to display various little sandwiches that were ready for sale.

Things were quiet, music playing at a moderate level -- one high enough any lone patrons wouldn’t feel awkward, but low enough nobody had to shout. The hair inside smelled cleaner than the city air just outside -- though at the moment it was filled with very familiar smells. This was of the very few shops that sold traditional Galahdian foods -- authentic Galahdian foods, he should keep in mind. Along with that, this cafe, MagicaliTeas ( a pun, of course ), sold its own brands and brews of tea and coffees -- kinds you could find nowhere else. Everything here was made completely fresh, if the greenhouse didn’t already say that well enough.

There was only one person behind the counter at the moment, from the name tag he could guess was the Assistant Manager, ‘Zyca’ as her name read. She was preparing some food further back behind the counter at the skillet, the noise of the sizzling meats and veggies drowning out his footsteps. Without warning, as he stood there, he could hear something quiet from the back office -- another employee he could assume.

“If I had the money, let me tell you how it’d be!” he could hear far more loudly now, in a sing-song voice, “I’d take over the country, everyone would bow to me!”

The voice got louder as the man emerged from the back office, he had such a delighted look on his face as he sang. His feet moved as he danced down the short hallway -- clearly in a very good mood as he continued on, “Sit up in my palace and baby you’d be my queen, we’ll run this ship together just you wait and see, we’ll be royalty!”

The man paused though when he seen Nyx, seeming a little surprised at his presence, but a smile ( a bit shyer than before ) slipped back onto his face. He practically bounced past Nyx and behind the counter itself, borderline beaming in delight -- continuing to hum the song he had been singing previously as he moved. ‘Silver’ his name tag read, ‘Owner’ was also engraved onto it as well.

“Sorry ‘bout the wait! I haven’t seen you in before, decide to finally give us a shot huh?” Silver teased lightly, though pausing for a moment as he actually took in Nyx’s appearance. Another look of surprise crossed his face, before he gave a warmer smile, “You’re Galahdian, aren’t you? I can tell by the hairstyle. Nobody around here really wears their hair like that -- decorations and all, aside from myself... Kinda.”

He paused for a moment, before giving Nyx a bit of a sheepish look, “A-Ah sorry, I-I uh, only ask because I just wanted to preface your order with a little message. I’ve never actually... gotten to try Galahdian food despite being from there myself, so I’ve done my best to recreate a lot of the recipes -- go easy on me yeah?”

“A-Anyways,” he continued on, his voice tripping over itself as his face heat up a bit, “What can I get for ya?”

[corvidics-blog]

💜- A memory about one of their loved ones, happy or sad

Peer into my muse’s memories

;; Just after Crowe arrived in Galahd, Nyx’s family took the starving orphan in and gave her a new home. On her first night there, and after her first real bath in weeks, Selena came into her room and did up Crowe’s hair in a traditional Galahdian fashion. Pulling it back into a loose ponytail and braiding all the strands that fell loose. She looks back at it as the first time anyone actually showed her sincere affection.

[rolerei]

Fashion AU - Noctis x Reader - Pining - Slowburn

Rating: M

Chapter: 2/25

Summary: One afternoon, a stylish young designer walked into the library of Insomnia Tech. From then on, your life would never be the same.

(With another beautiful art by @rose-madder-gaze!)

-

The binder notebook was nothing special from a glance. Upon opening it, though, Noctis immediately held his breath. Behind a clear plastic sleeve was a card with the symbol of Technical University of Insomnia, along with a photo of a girl with the most haunting eyes, looking unwavering at him.

Noctis reached into the plastic sleeve and looked closer at the photo. From her features, he could tell that she was a Galahdian. And a beautiful, haughty one at that.

“... Hey, who’s this girl?” Noctis turned on the bar stool and waved the student card at Prompto, who was working on one of the sewing machines. “Her bitchy look is perfect for our brand.”

“Huh? Oh, that’s the girl that Ignis scouted the other day,” answered Prompto without barely looking up from the sewing machine. “Nice one, huh? Iggy seems to be getting better at this scouting business.”

“Yeah. Good job, Specs.”

"Why, thank you. I assure you any accomplishment I made in that area is all your due diligence."

Read more

[secret-engima]

The first person to accuse fem!Nyx of ankle flashing to marry into the royal family gets a massively confused look, before Ardyn verbally eviscerates the accuser. Cue Ardyn having to explain the reference.

Pfft I can see that. Nyx is just- Wha? And she doesn’t get it or care but then ARDYN swoops in with a tongue like knives and fire and sends the person packing and then later sneeringly explains what the reference is.

Nyx still doesn’t really ... get it. Like- she gets it, she gets it’s an insult and what the insult means, but Galahdian fashion is ... not conducive to understanding why showing a bit of ankle is seen as seductive/flirty. Like- who wears skirts that long in the jungle? You’ll trip and die in two seconds. Only long wear like that is for really formal events in the village Great Hall or main square where nothing will kill you.

[charlottedabookworm]

Speaking of - any thoughts on the Ardynson/Naruto xover/fusion?

I actually sat down to write the first chapter for this the other day, only to end up with a load of meta instead. So, I’ll just throw that up here because why not?

—-

Nyx is therewhen his father breathes his last breaths. He isn’t the one who makes the finalblow, hadn’t even been a part of the fight at all - his father would never haveasked that of him, not when the man knew how much it would have broken his son- but he’s there. He kneels at his father’s side and holds his hand and ignoresthe tears that stream down his face as Ardyn finally finds the death that wasso long denied to him.Nyx is there and it hurts, but he would never have been anywhere else.(In another world, in another time, his greatest regret til the day of hisdeath would be that he wasn’t there for his father when he needed him the most- that he didn’t have the courage to grant Ardyn the comfort of seeing his onlychild before he moved on to the next world. In that world, Nyx would never beable to forgive himself for not being there.

But this isn’t that world)His father dies and it burns - there is a hole in his magic where thebond that he had always had with his father had been - and he weeps. His fatherdies and for a moment he hates the young King who did it but then Noctis movesaway and Nyx can’t anymore. His father dies and Noctis leaves and he can tellthe exact moment that the prophecy is fulfilled. (Because he had tried, sohard, for so many years to find a way around the prophecy - to give his fathera chance at a mortal life and prevent this child king from being killed - buthe hadn’t been able to)His father dies and so does Noctis and then Nyx realises that he is the onlyone left.He is the only one left and the land is clutching at him and whispering king,my king, our king in his ears and he knows that he has no choice.He has never had a choice.With a strength of will granted to him by both his mother and his father, Nyxforces himself to his feet - forces the tears to stop and buries the pain andthe grief in his heart. The first thing he does is remove Noctis’ body from thethrone - because his friends do not need to see their King like that - he laysthe Chosen King respectfully beside his father’s sword and the sounds thatIgnis and Prompto and Gladiolus make when they come in are horrified andheartbroken but they do not see Noctis pinned to his throne.King Noctis Lucis Caelum, CXIV King of Lucis, is granted a funeral worthy ofhis sacrifice. It is attended by all of Eos, whether in person or by television,because they all know that Noctis had sacrificed himself to bring about theDawn. He had saved all of their lives, and all know his story - it is inscribedinto his tomb, so that his actions would never be forgotten. Nyx speaks: hetells them of the teenager that he had first met, of the prince that he hadbeen, of the prophecy and his sacrifice and his loses and he reminds them ofhow young Noctis was. Ignis speaks as well, telling them all of the happy childand the sullen teenager and the crown prince who desperately wanted to make hisfather proud. Prompto speaks of his best friend, of the boy who hatedvegetables and loved video games and could nap anywhere. Gladiolus says theleast but he still has stories of how Noct had tried his best in training andthe missteps and of the treats of ice-cream. They tell the world of the personbehind the King and hope that it is what Noct would have wanted.(There is another, smaller, funeral that is attended only by those ofGalahd. There is no body, but Nyx lights a pyre for his father all the same andprays for his welcome into the Stormsender’s embrace. He erects a stone intraditional Solheimian fashion for King Ardyn Lucis Caelum of Solheim, andwrites the story as his father had once told it in runes on the sides)The world mourns for their fallen King, but they are still trying desperatelyto survive and they need another.

And Nyx? Nyxis a Lucis Caelum, he has the magic and the blood if not the name, and he canhelp. So, Nyx does what he always does. He steps in as needed. 

Nyx becomeswhat he has never wanted to be, becomes the king that the world needs even ashe destroys himself in his grief. 

King NyxAnatolios Ulric, The Knight, Son of the Sage, King of Eos, is crowned by theland long before he is by the people - but that is what history will rememberhim as, long after his death. The King who brought them together and helpedthem heal, who dragged them back from the apocalypse and restored civilisation.

He is the Dawnat the end of the Night, the unlikely king who had stepped up and saved themall, who always had a smile and a laugh for his people and never gave up, whowore Solheim gold and Lucian black and Galahdian braids and looked like a Kingof Yore, and even centuries later his name is revered for it.(History forgets the man who didn’t want to be a King - who laughed andjoked because if he stopped for even a second he would start screaming. Who wasfar happier in a fight than on a throne. It forgets that Nyx was a man who wasgrieving his lost father, who desperately wanted to make the man proud of hisactions. It forgets that Nyx could never stop feeling guilty for wearing atitle that should belong to his father, to Noctis, but he still does his bestin their memory)

He dies fairlyyoung and he expects it - the magic of the land spent years focusing entirelyon him until he could train up a few of his people enough to speak to it andthat took its strain on his body, ages him faster than it should have. Oldinjuries catch up to him and he is tired and weary, and he has spent yearsholding on by a thread because his people had needed him but eventually hedies.

Nyx dies, andthe world mourns the King who had saved them but they no longer need aKing and so they survive.

Nyx dies, allhe wants to do is rest and see his father again. Nyx dies, having been a Chosenand a Regent and a Glaive and a Prince and a King, having been credited withhelping to save the world. Nyx dies, a couple decades after his father dies buthe looks far older than Ardyn ever did.

Nyx dies witha relieved smile on his face, ready to go to the Stormsender’s embrace.

Nyx Ulric,King of Eos, dies and, a universe away, Uchiha Nyx, genin of Konoha and all ofeight years old, opens his eyes.