#galahdian fashion

[ertrunkenerwassergeist]

@raven-6-10

Ohhhhhh

That looks really cool. And you're totally right.

You know what would also be fun? If the metal 'embroidered' patterns are spirals. All things sparkly and spirally.

Excalibur (1981) dir.: John Boorman

[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.

[ertrunkenerwassergeist]

@raven-6-10

To me this looks like a mix of Lucian and Galahkari fashion.

Galahkari fashion (at least modern fashion) doesn't have long skirts, but the way the pattern looks and the stones used in it, scream Galahd to me.

Though the way the dress is cut is entirely Lucian.

Robert Abi Nader

[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

[raven-6-10]

@secret-engima @a-world-in-grey

Another possibility to consider is the Marilith attack. 

We know it was likely outside of Insomnia since it's a daemon attacking them, but I don't think it's confirmed that Regis was actually there from the beginning. If instead, say, he went back to Insomnia early because Something Important came up and left Noctis with a contingent of Guards... well.

The Vitae who killed the daemon attacking a group of people did not expect to see the boy wounds close themselves up. Certainly not without a magical intervention. Except it's not their magic doing the healing. This is Concerning.

Every other adult nearby is dead, the Guards who actually managed to carry Noctis quite away from the site of initial attack (they tried to run for the nearest Haven while others slowed the Marilith down). 

So in true Galahdian fashion, the Vitae shrugs and says Free Kid! and packs Noctis away to Galahd. Because the Ulrics obviously are missing a kid. Even if they didn't know about his existence before.

I had an Idea. Have you ever considered a TttW AU where Regis is already king and was only told about the whole ritual thing and his sister only being dead, but never sent to Galahd? Where potentially he does this ritual to Noctis just so there is physical proof for his council but when Noctis is shown to be cursed he goes “Oh HELLS no” and keeps it secret like a Good Dad? Maybe this ends up with him searching for help. Searching for clues on what this curse is supposed to be? (Part 1)

lunarcatninja said: (Cont.) Eventually his findings brings him to Galahd with its strange wall that Mors called cursed and off limits. Shenanigans ensue once he gets there? Maybe when Nyx is a teenager? I dunno. It seems like a fun playground for this world you’ve built that I’m already loving. Like. Any point in TttW’s timeline seems so interesting to explore! (Part 2 end ask)

I did actually give thought on something similar yeah! But at the moment I don’t even have the first chapter of TttW finished so it’s a little early to ponder AUs of an AU XDDD.

Might end up doing an OVA thing of that someday though. Maybe. Because it’s a cool bunny.

Also picture Ardyn learning that the Chosen King has HIS magic. Is a Cursed Child that was never abandoned and that … confuses them to know end.

Another AU facet to this AU idea would be if Regis kept it secret from everyone, including Noctis, until like- something happens and he gets- idk kidnapped and taken out of Insomnia as a 13-15, then takes a fatal hit while escaping but WAKES UP and is just- freaking out like crazy and is disorientated from magic exhaustion and bloodloss and a Vitae finds him and is like- oh. Bby teenage Ulric. Come along Bby Ulric. We go home now. And when Noctis wakes up he is Definitely Not Home.

Cue Noctis going through the Culture Shenanigans and trying to convince everyone that SERIOUSLY. HIS DAD DID NOT ARRANGE HIS MURDER. LET ME CALL MY DAD AND GO HOME and all the Clans being Skeptical until Regis shows up personally and breaks into Galahd with his old gang (Cid and Weskham included plus Gladio, Ignis, and Prompto) to rescue his bby boy. XDDD

Ardyn is Intrigued.

[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

Week of the Golden Sun

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

[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

[raven-6-10]

@ertrunkenerwassergeist

Oh yeah, O'Neill for sure has Opinions, and not just about monarchy.

In fact, one of the things that could be explored here is the Culture Clash between the SGC and Eos.

Because on one side we have Eos - Insomnia and Galahd in particular - which I'm headcanoning as very tolerant on various issues re: gender and sexuality - Galahd a bit more than Insomnia, though it's mostly the Mors' generation and those between him and Regis there that are still very old-fashioned.

And then we have US of A. Or rather, the military thereof, from the turn of century. With all the sexism, racism, homophobia and all other isms and phobias that are there. Which, even if I like SG-1 as characters, I do acknowledge that Jack is a '50s guy and a lifelong military i.e. he has his prejudices. Same with Carter, really. Sure, she's younger but she's also a military kid through and through.

Daniel and Teal'c would have an easier time, I think. Daniel is an anthropologist, so even if he specialises in predynastic Egypt, he would be familiar with different cultural norms from different civilizations and times. While Teal'c probably dealt with different peoples on different planets and how they might differ between each other.

(Plus you know, the Goa'uld. Do you want to be the one to tell, say, Ba'al or Osiris, that they should use female pronouns just because their current host happens to be biologically female? Even tho they themselves are biologically agender snakes? Yeah, I don't either.)

***

Daniel certainly has an interesting time trying to act as a translator. Same with whoever got snatched from the original mission at that base.

Though I will be adopting the "translator nanites" thing from Stargate lore. So once there are enough Eosians around, the protocols would be updated and the next group to got through the 'gate would have some rudimentary understanding of the local language.

Enough to ask who, what and why.

But it still leaves room for misinterpretation and Misunderstandings :)

***

Regarding Sol, I currently have no idea what to do about it.

Alteran is canonically Latin with serial numbers filled off (or in-universe, Latin has evolved from post-Atlantis Alteran).

But we have nothing about Sol that's canon and I know people have a lot of headcanons about it. Starting with Latin and ending at constructing their own conlag, because why not!

I'm not Tolkien. I'm not doing my own conlag.

If I include Sol and assume Lucian and Galahdian are derivatives, I will either use phonetic symbols to write it down or I will snag a fictional language from another series for my use.

***

@cactusprisms

Regarding independent worlds - there are some but the ones seen in earlier seasons are generally pre-industrialisation. With the exception of Tollan who were in only one episode at that point and their world was literally blowing up around them when the SGC found them.

Orban and Langar, and Hebridan and others are from later seasons. So right now Eos is the most technologically advanced human civilisation they've seen. And they still haven't been to any of the cities.

This will definitely colour the interactions there.

@hamelin-born @aniseandspearmint @charlottedabookworm @starofthemourning

Prev

(I need a tag for this au)

(I'm taking suggestions)

@hamelin-born @moonraisedsunchild @ertrunkenerwassergeist @cactusprisms @aniseandspearmint @charlottedabookworm

So like. SG-1 is scouting around and they see a herd of weird animals that look like a cross between a unicorn and a gazelle of all things, except kind of weird. But also not the weirdest they have ever seen. And they try to keep their distance, really, they're not stupid enough to approach unknown animals.

Except suddenly the entire herd starts running right at them, so of course they also start running to try to get out of the way. Only it turns out the Space Unicorns are running from a bunch of predators that look like really really big cats. Like, big honkin' space cats.

And oh shit, the Cats decided that humans actually offend them on a personal level, so now the team is really hauling ass to get away. And maybe taking some potshots at the Cats, who basically just shrug it off what the hell, and also they can zap you like their grandma was an electric eel, seriously what the hell, and maybe the team is running in the wrong direction, Daniel! the base is the other way! except is kind of too late to change that.

So they make it to the shore and are running along the beach, at least it's rocky and not sandy that would have been really bad to run along. And it looks like the cats are bored of the chase because they all stopped further back and now are only growling and hissing in their direction and backing away.

. . .

. . .

. . . something is growling real loud behind them.

[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."

[sylleblosscm]

Luna returns some forty-five minutes later with two piles of fresh clothing. Nyx is fast asleep, looking far more relaxed than she has ever seen him, and it is enough to bring a smile to her face. Briefly she is taken with the finer details she has never had the chance to examine closely; like the battlescars across his body, and the small tattoos that she can only assume are Galahdian in origin. She has many questions about his home, but they all exist to sate her own curiosity, so she never bothers to ask. She is already aware he lost someone precious to him - the last thing Luna wishes is to dredge up painful memories.

After setting the clothing down - his on the bed closest to him - she moves about the room, closing curtains and dulling lights. Then she brings a warm blanket to drape over him. Her final port of call is to change. Far removed from her usual silhouette, devoid of her Oracle whites and light blues, the sturdy-seeming dress and coat feel foreign indeed. Luna has never been partial to fashion, beyond the utility it serves. She is to remain clean, presentable and inoffensive at all times - so long as her garments could accomplish as much, she'd never considered how she might look in anything else.

She settles onto the second bed, releasing her hair from its signature updo, and whiles away some time in quiet meditation, leaving Nyx to his slumber.

Nyx was more skeptical, but he supposed Luna was a special case. She was the Oracle, loved by many, if not all and because of that they would likely protect her position. Following her into the building, a silent shadow behind Lunafreya's smaller frame, he lets her guide him to her room. It's a nice place – more luxurious than anything he has been witness to in a while.

"Right. Just be careful, alright?" he urges, beelining for the bathroom. He needed that shower so badly. He sheds his clothes and steps inside, though he has to be careful of his arm. Still, he manages to get himself clean and once he's done, he steps out dries himself off, wrapping a towel around himself since he has no desire to step into his dirty clothes again.

Instead, he uses the time to wash his uniform in the sink, starting with his underwear and drying it off with the use of a fire spell. His pants are next and once he has his lower body covered, he feels a lot more at ease. The top part of his uniform is pretty fucked, but he still washes it and hangs it up to air dry instead. Leaving the bathroom with the towel over his shoulders to catch the worst of the water from his hair, he sits down and waits for Lunafreya's return.

He doesn't mean to fall asleep on the chair, but well, he had been pretty exhausted for a while now. The safety the room provided made it easy to give in to his drowsiness.

[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.