#gladio appreciation

[savage-rhi]

hi hope you’re well!! id like to request sharing a bed with ignis (or all ffxv boys! up to you!) for the first time please! like there’s only one bed or the booking at hotel went wrong ! it’s up to you! dw if you don’t want to do it :) love ur work!

"This is just peachy..." The sarcasm rolled off Gladio's tongue like molasses as he shot Ignis a glare. "You just had to let blondie down there take care of the booking."

Ignis sighed as he scrunched his legs up further into his chest, trying to give Gladio and their fifth guest more room at the front of the bed. He grunted before addressing the crude remark.

"Tending to Y/N at the time was more important than keeping an eye out on Prompto's sense of rationale."

"Hey!" Prompto exclaimed as he shot up from the foot of the bed. He shoved Gladio's left foot away, grimacing at the aroma that wafted from his calloused toes. "When the receptionist said they had a suite, I assume that means a big space. Where I'm from, a big space means more room which means having more than one bed!"

"There's a reason you didn't pass algebra." Noctis quipped. He earned a swift kick to his side from Prompto and nearly fell off the mattress while he yelped.

"You're one to talk Noct, you only passed the tenth grade cause you copied my material!"

"Did not!"

"Did too!"

"Did not--!"

"Guys, not for nothing, but I'd like to sleep." Y/N sighed.

"Y/N's right," Ignis muttered. "We have a big day ahead of us and it's already late. Let us try to make the best out of the situation."

"Fine, whatever." Noctis breathed. He adjusted his body, lying on his side and facing away from Ignis's legs. He thanked the gods for not being in Prompto's position when it came to catching a whiff of Gladio's feet. The swampy smell was still there from their time in Duscae, and Noctis let out a grunt when he felt nausea pool briefly in his chest.

"You okay down there, Noct?" Y/N asked.

"Yep!" Noctis sighed.

"Good," Y/N tried to keep their eyes upon the ceiling in a vain attempt to ignore the fact they were sandwiched in between both Ignis and Gladio. All the while, their feet were pressed upon Noctis and Prompto. Had they not felt self-conscious being amongst four guys in a single bed, Y/N would've seen the hilarity in all this. How the whole gang was basically crammed onto the mattress like a posse of clowns trapped inside a small vehicle.

"Uh," Y/N made a face as they snapped out of their thoughts. "Gladio, I think you're touching my butt."

"Sorry, my bad!"

"Y/N," Ignis turned his head, raising his voice ever so slight. "This may seem awkward, but we may be able to give Gladio and yourself more wiggle room if you bundle up to me."

"Smooth one, specs." Noctis teased. He let out a wince when Ignis not so subtly jabbed his face with his right foot. Prompto could be heard giggling into his palms at the incident.

Y/N growled a little in their throat. As much as they had grown to enjoy the antics of the boys, now was not the time. Nonetheless, they went through the motions. Their body curled up against Ignis until they were practically spooning the man from behind.

"Finally, I can stretch!" Gladio yawned. He gently reached over and nudged Y/N. "Thanks for taking one for the team."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night." Y/N muttered in reply. They felt Ignis reach for them, gently coaxing Y/N to put an arm around his waist.

"You sure this is alright?" Y/N tried to whisper against the back of Ignis's head.

"Positive," He replied. "Besides, this will lower the risk of having you wake in a compromising position with anybody."

Y/N quietly laughed at the remark. "Kinda late for that, but okay."

"He's a gentleman like that!" Prompto interjected. He let out an uncomfortable sigh as he moved around, causing the bed to creak. "Gladio, buddy, do you think you can move? You're taking up my side of the bed."

"Your side of the bed?!" Gladio exclaimed, feeling the last straw break the camels back. "This whole bed should've been my side of the bed but you screwed up!"

"And here I thought you liked slumber parties!" Prompto jabbed playfully.

"I outta--!"

"Hey!" Noctis rose up. "You two, shut the hell up and go to sleep! Enough of the cat fight!"

"How about you shut up for a change?" Gladio countered.

"Is that a challenge?"

"Guys, c'mon...I already gotta smell Gladio's fungus feet and I don't want the bed turning into a battle arena!"

"Fungus feet?!"

Y/N shook their head against Ignis, letting out a sigh of disbelief as the commotion between the three pressed on. The gentle squeeze Ignis offered had them slightly perk up.

"They're always like this," Ignis reassured. "And the feelings are mutual, by the way."

The tired reply Ignis gave had Y/N smile from ear to ear, and somehow they could feel themself drifting away among the bantering. Tomorrow would come soon.

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[dayasan]

📷 Imperial Base + Crown City streets, Insomnia, Lucis

[inprotocreed]

I would like to personally thank every artist who has ever drawn Gladio with tan skin because every time you add 10 years to my lifespan

[noctunis]

how do they love? | ffxv | gn!reader

ᯓ NOCTIS’ love is unusual, a kind of love that’s like an inside joke only the two of you are privy to. a warm kind of string between you both, plucked with the most unconventional timing.

it’s the way he snickers when you pretend you didn’t stumble on your way over to him, or maybe the way you grin at his awkward choice of words when it comes to speaking to you. either way, the two of you have something oddly endearing. ignis will shake his head fondly as he watches the two of you walk side by side, close enough to brush hips although not quite. noctis will only do it to make you laugh, a sweet sound he can’t help but mimic.

his social skills often lack, but his love shows in the smallest ways. holding up his fork, a tomato stabbed in the pointed edges, as a silent offering for you to take. in return, he takes whatever you don’t like the next time. a head rested on your lap, black hair splayed out as he shifts around and tries to get comfy. it’s a sign he trusts you, even with little things like that.

he is also a yearner, through and through. even older noctis, who admires the way you trace his scruff and preen at his lapel. eyes following your every move with nothing but pure adoration; a king soft as mush in the creases of your palm.

his hand’ll reach for yours in the middle of the night, pawing at the sheets until it finds the warmth of your pulse. it only takes a try or two before he succeeds, though. it’s like he knows where you are, even when his eyes are blurred with sleep and soft yawns slip past his lips.

ᯓ IGNIS’ love is thoughtful, something that can be easily passed off as minuscule but one thing you can’t miss is the way it roots itself into the hearth of your core.

on his trips or outings he may take with the boys, he’ll never admit it (and you’ll have to find out by yourself), but whenever noctis takes over the wheel for a while, ignis’ eyes are glued to the scenery in hopes of finding ingredients for a new recipe he can bring home to you.

ignis is often very busy with his royal duties and escorting the prince around, but you’re always on his mind in one way or another — inhabiting the space in his prefrontal cortex and worming around in unorthodox ways, even little stuff reminding him of you.

you complain about how your feet have been hurting for a while? ignis is already there with lotion and comfortable shoes. you need a bit more salt on your food? ignis is already getting up from the table to fetch it from the kitchen for you.

he never expects, let alone asks, for anything of the sort in return. it brings him joy knowing he can do something for you, and he fancies it an admirable trait of his. if you were to ever do something back, or also show your love through acts of service, he’d try to politely decline with a soft smile before you insist. it’s got him thinking about it for days on end, and he swears his heart beats a bit too quickly the following week.

older ignis would especially appreciate this considering his lack of sight, and he only finds salvation within the loving pads of your fingers tapping at his wrist.

ᯓ PROMPTO’s love is bright, too warm to be contained in one vessel; like the head of a flashlight cradled in your palm, beaming rays seeping through the cracks in your fingers and leaking out in vivid streams.

he talks the boys’ ears off with fun facts or small things that remind him of you — which is more like everything, because he constantly finds correlations to things you like and stuff they see on the road. thumbing at the buttons of his camera for the day only to find a selfie you and him took, it makes his heart flutter and his cheeks hurt with the painted smile on his face. gladio doesn’t even have to ask what��s got him smiling, he already knows.

and when he sees you, he can’t help but feel on top of the world. he loves talking to you, and words for affirmation / quality time he definitely does adore. he’ll listen to you speak, practically buzzing as he waits for his turn once you’ve asked him about what he likes, or you’ve started talking about what you like. prompto wants to know you to your very core, the same way his ribs are splayed open with your sweet words wrenching their way into him; bared open for you to see.

falls head over heels for you and will constantly make excuses just to see you. all he craves is a hand on his and a smile on your face. that’s all it takes. he has this thing where if he doesn’t have his camera on him, and he sees a really nice sight, his brain’ll conjure up the perfect aperture and filters and everything for an imaginary photo he only wishes he could take. your smile is one of the things he wishes he could always catch.

you’ve made a home in his heart that beats with a happy signal every time he sees you — almost like a doorbell that always knows when you’re home.

ᯓ GLADIOLUS’ love is protective, a rock with a mess of lava and sunlight bundled up inside of him with ties too tight, where everything ends up spilling out of him anyway.

being the royal shield, his nature and job is naturally to protect. his friends, his family, his honor. gladio doesn’t mind it, in fact, he welcomes it. within the warmth of his grasp, he hopes you find solace because that’s the only way he can rest. he’s constantly looming over you, even without a hand on your shoulder, you can feel his heat radiating off of him.

anybody who sees the two of you will see a tall, dark figure constantly behind you; fooled by the intimidating shadow of your boyfriend constantly lurking around you. gladio’ll even try to fool you himself, but all it takes is a soft hand in his hair and a smile thrown his way and all of a sudden he’s just a big dope. trace over his scars and he’s resisting the urge to get down on one knee.

no matter how tough he thinks he is, gladiolus is never too tough for you. you wanna show him a flower you found in the garden? hell yeah, he’ll keep it in the front pocket of his shirt all day. you wanna go to lestallum? sure, let him just stock up on gas and you’ll go.

and if you manage to get along with his family, he’s absolutely whipped for the rest of his life. seeing iris drag you along the city makes him grin with ease, noctis clapping a hand on his back as he huffs out a small chuckle.

gladiolus amicitia is a true believer that stars dim out just to let you shine, and he’ll tell you as such however many times you crave so long as you are looking for proof that you are worth loving.

taglist ; @sagetealeafs @camryn-haitani

requests are open — april twenty-seventh, 2025

[fire-of-the-sun]

Chocobro Headcanon

I like to headcanon that, in the cutscene of the last campfire after Noctis tells his friends they're the best, they decide to lighten the mood and reflect on their journey before it all ends instead of lingering in sorrow. Prompto gets out his photos and they start passing them around to admire, tears of sorrow melting away as they begin to laugh and tell stories, celebrating their time together.

Eventually, the voices begin to fade, replaced by sentimental music before we focus on Noctis' face: calm, happy and full of peace as he watches his friends knowing that, though he has to leave them, he's giving them a future to enjoy and that makes it all worth it. Like the canon ending, the final shot is of Noctis' smile.

Due to this act the night before still being fresh in his mind, this could be what prompts Noctis to ask to take a photo with him at the last minute before confronting Ardyn - a seemingly spur-of-the-moment request that could be further appreciated by the audience after watching the final cutscene.

I also like to imagine that, given his long history of writing to Luna and presumably being able to express himself better on paper than in person, Noctis decides to write individual letters to Ignis, Gladio and Prompto that night after they all go to sleep to share his heartfelt gratitude and love for them better than he could ever articulate in person.

Perhaps Noctis gets the idea after speaking with Ignis - a heartfelt conversation that further stokes a deep desire to let them know just how much he truly cares. He leaves the letters somewhere he knows they'll discover and read after he's gone so they can hold onto a piece of him forever the same way he held onto his notebook with Luna to remember her.

If I could indulge further, I would love to see a version of the ending that showcased a montage of what happened after Noctis is gone, with his voiceover reading the letters as we see what becomes of the world, Ignis, Prompto and Gladio, perhaps culminating in him assuring them that he's happy and at peace with Luna (knowing that he would find and be with her after), which leads directly into the final scene of seeing the two of them married in the afterlife as he shares that photo with her - a beloved token to represent a piece of his life and the friends who meant so much to him.

[ninuev]

Gladio appreciation post 🛡️

Always felt he's the least explored chocobro by Square Enix and the one that came off worst from being the first DLC. The depth of detail of EPISODE PROMPTO and EPISODE IGNIS in comparison is beyond dispute. Despite that, it fulfills a narrative weight that no other character would be “capable” of carrying; Being the king's shield implies being as resilient as steel, inexorable and not “buckling” but strengthening under the pressure and fire of combat and experience.

It is something that the first chapters reflect perfectly (the hunt for Deadeye and how he protects Noctis or his motivations for EPISODE GLADIO) but that as it progresses is diminished in pursuit of giving depth to the rest of chocobros. However, Gladio is always there for Noctis as a steadfast "paternal" figure; where Ignis educates and nurtures, Gladio directly corrects and reprimands, something Noctis needs at first until he truly realizes his responsibilities as king of a desolate kingdom.

A man who is not afraid to be hated for his actions if it means his loved ones will see the sun rise tomorrow.

⚔️ I kneel before no man! 🛡️

[sparklecryptid]

A Reveal because the Lucis Caelums had a magical family tree made up once and somebody finally found the thing after it was lost in the archives for a few centuries.

Regis is not even the only person with bastards, he's just the most recent one and it's not even the biggest scandal.

(That would be the confirmation that the children of that one LC queen couple of hundreds years ago were most definitely not sired by her husband, which honestly, everyone expected already because the man was so gay and not even pretending otherwise.)

Noctis stares at the magic family tree.

He stares at it. Ignis stares at it.

The two of them exchange looks.

"Well," Noctis says eventually, "Do you think I can toss the crown at one of my siblings-"

Ignis gives him a look that would make lesser men weep.

"I'm not sure they would appreciate that."

-

After that Noctis takes the family tree and with Prompto's help carefully looks up the names of his siblings.

One of them lives in Lestallum and works as a scientist at the power plant, Thanatos seems to be a cheerful man with red eyes and that makes Noctis wonder WHY no one has connected him to their father earlier.

The next is Ardor, who has a Kwetter account that is only used to post blurry shots of beasts and daemons that Ardor was hunting and to response to his other siblings.

Which is how Noctis finds out that all his half-siblings know about each other and regularly interact through the internet.

It makes him feel a bit lonely to be honest. He understands their desire to not want to come forward but-

Well.

He's always wanted a bigger family.

The next person Noctis and Prompto find is a man named Ace who is Hunter and sometimes appears in Ardor's photos. He's Galahdian, obvious by the beads in his hair, and Noctis and Prompto share a look when they realize that Ace is married to an active member of the Kingsglaive.

Persephone is next, she's a priestess with a warm smile that Noctis thinks is somehow comforting and threatening at the same time. She is also married to an active member of the Kingsglaive and routinely shows up on her siblings feed asking them to 'please reconsider what they are about to do'.

Jules works in a book store. She has mousy brown hair and bright blue eyes hidden behind thick frames. She looks like someone Ignis would get along with.

Bard is - okay, Noctis has known who Bard is for a while know, her videos go viral whenever she posts her street performances and Noctis knows that Ignis and Gladio are fans. He wonders if he can get them an autograph.

Jupiter is the sister of an active member of the Kingsglaive and Noctis begins to wonder if they're training them so poorly they can't recognize members of the loyal family.

There is nothing on Mercury's page but cat photos that she tags her siblings in with 'this you?' the latest of which is a wet cat staring at the camera that Mercury tagged Ardor in.

Noctis is a little hurt that they all know each other and yet never bothered to come forward.

If he posts a video of the magically glowing family tree on his Official Account and tags all his siblings in it with 'this u?' well-

Noctis deserves to blow up the internet once and while.

As a treat.

(The existence of the siblings gets quickly brushed aside when the family tree - upon study by various historians - confirms that the children of The Star were not sired by her husbands.

Thanatos immediately posts a joke about 'horny running in the family'.)

[flare99-blog]

I didn't expect this, but you're replying in the comments and reblogging TOO MUCH in the post about FF15😍

(I can't answer everyone!!)

Thanks so much everyone🥹🥹

And, since we all really appreciate the characters in this game, I ask you...

What's your favorite Chocobro? 😏

(My husband is Gladio❤️ I LOVE HIM SOO MUCH!).

[conretewings]

It's my birthday y'all 🎉

Pics or fic recommendations of my husbands-Vander (Arcane), Hazel (rwby), Guzma (Pokémon s/m), Gladio (ff15)-are much appreciated if you want to send me something. Or nothing. Or you can tell me see you in hell I'll save you a seat at the bar. Whatever you want.

[savage-rhi]

"noodle?" "yes, you are a noodle. my noodle. it's cute."

PROMPT AND GLADIO!!!!!!! ITS LITTERALY THEM

"You're growling again," Ignis sighed as he once more pointed out the noise Gladio made every so often at Prompto and Noctis's antics.

"Can it Iggy," Gladio muttered as he sipped on the cup noodles broth he had left in his cup. He let out a breath, shaking his head at seeing Prompto suddenly chasing Noctis around while attempting to get his camera back. He made a fist and adjusted in his seat next to the camp fire.

"May I ask why you're so angered at their play?" Ignis inquired.

"Look," Gladio began. He felt somewhat irate at Ignis's attempt at playing therapist, but decided to come clean. "It's not that I don't want them to have fun. We could all use some laughs after everything that's happened..."

"But?"

Gladio sighed. "We lost our home, Ignis. The Niffs took everything. We don't know if our loved ones are going to be okay, and the fate of the world is riding on the shoulders of a twerp who can't be bothered with, and he's messing around with blondie over there acting like it's another day in high school!"

"You sound quite exasperated."

"You think!?" Gladio exclaimed. He made a face, realizing he was a bit harsh and apologized to Ignis under his breath.

"It's quite alright," Ignis reassured. He hummed for a moment, observing the boys from afar. "I see where your concerns lie. I admit to feeling a sense of apprehension, but.."

"But?" Gladio raised a brow, turning his head.

"Maybe a soft heart during a tough time isn't so bad. Perhaps you could try and join them in the fun? It might unburden the mental load you're carrying."

"Don't make me laugh!"

"Suit yourself." Ignis shrugged. He dusted his gloves, and prepared to make dinner for the night; leaving Gladio to his thoughts.

Gladio muttered a few curses to himself, and decided to take his mind off everything by making another cup noodle while waiting he waited for Ignis to complete the main course. If there was anything that could soothe his thoughts, it was cheap food and silence.

"Gladio, look out!"

"Incoming!"

Before he could dodge, Gladio felt his body tumble forward. The cup noodle flew into the air, and he heard the distinctive yelp Prompto was known for when he was harmed. Gladio grunted as the world stilled, no longer a chaotic mess of dirt and gods knew what.

"Son of a---" Gladio paused as he leaned up and looked to his right. Prompto was sitting beside him in a daze. His skin turning white as a ghost upon seeing the anger that flashed behind Gladio's gaze.

Gladio's eyes combed over Prompto. His hair was coated in noodles and pieces of beef. The smell of the broth mingling with Prompto's hair product created a pungent odor that had Gladio wishing he was sniffing shit from an Anak instead.

His hair was coated in noodles and pieces of beef. His nose grimaced at how the smell of the broth and Prompto's hair product created a pungent odor that had Gladio wishing he was sniffing shit from a Flexitusk.

From afar, Noctis was covering his mouth to suppress a laugh.

Gladio let out a sigh. "Noodle."

"Noodle?" Prompto gulped.

"Yes. You are a noodle." He picked up a noodle fragment from the cup and placed it upon Prompto's head as if crowning a king. "My noodle. It's cute."

"What the--?!"

Gladio laughed as he grabbed a hold of Prompto, trapping him in a playful headlock while he messed with his hair further.

"Gladio! Hey, hey! You're making it worse!" Prompto exclaimed in between fits.

"Noct! Help me out here! He's flailing like one of those fish that slapped you earlier!"

"Right behind ya!"

"I hate you both!" Prompto yelped.

Ignis looked up from the grill to watch as the three descended into chaotic play. He let out a huff, shaking his head and smiled before going back to preparing the meat from the fish Noctis had caught.

If you like my work and feel generous, feel free to donate to my ko-fi account or my cash app account!

Cash App: $JayRex1463

[ghostoftheyear]

20 Questions: Writing Edition

@theskee tagged me for this and I can never resist answering questions about myselfmy writing. Let's gooooooooo

How many works do you have on AO3?

260, which goes all the way back to the first stuff I posted on my website in like… 1999 or so? We're talking when I was into comics fandom. (And obviously, those were not originally posted on AO3.)

What's your total ao3 word count?

1,393,595 - what a good pattern in that number, ha. I have so many extremely short fics.

What are your top five fics by kudos?

Waking the Moon - the first (in order of writing) of the FFXV omegaverse wolf fics. I'm still quite pleased with that one, even if I did start writing it out of spite.

In Between - the one and only LOTR fic I was ever inspired to write, a Legolas/Aragorn PWP that still gets kudos even though I'm very tired of it. It's fine, I guess.

The Strength of the Wolf - Another in the Werewolves of Lucis series. This was the only time I ever had enough motivation and inspiration to put out multiple fics as a series.

Tutelage - The one proper Ignis/Gladio fic I ever did, and I am still proud of that one, too. Even though Noctis makes a very outdated 'Etro' reference that shows how early this was written.

Perspective - Possibly my favorite Torchwood fic (Jack/Ianto, of course) and it makes me super happy that it's up here on the list. Threading bits of moments from all through the canon was fun, and I remember thinking of one additional scene and popping it in just after I posted the fic and being so pleased with it. (I think it's the Martha scene.)

What fandoms do you write for?

Right now, Dragon Age has 99% of my attention, but I'm still thinking about FFVII Remake (even if no ideas have come to me in months), and I still have a DMMd fic I want to finish (another to round out the actor AU).

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Fuck yeah. I used to know someone who got so many that he just didn't respond anymore, but I have never had that happy circumstance, and I want people to know how much their words are appreciated. Plus, it's led to friendships more than once, and I can't not respond if someone notices something special or goes into detail about a bit they liked.

What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Hmmm. I don't often write angsty endings, but holding on, letting go kinda qualifies, I think. I mean, most of what I write is smut, so…

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

God, there's a lot of them, I really can't pick. I did a super-classic Disneyesque happy ending with Spellbound, that was fun.

Do you get hate on fics?

Fortunately, not too much; there was one on an RPS fic that still stands out to me (even though it was hilarious), but I've had more weird and confusing comments than anything.

Do you write smut?

I would say I'm known for it.

Do you write crossovers?

Not often, since I find them hard to justify. I still like the Firefly/Torchwood one that had Mal and Captain Jack hooking up, though - Collision.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of, fingers crossed.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yeah, I had someone translate do you understand, do you feel the same, which was really surprising and nice.

Have you ever cowritten a fic before?

Sort of, in that I've rewritten RP (with my partner's permission) into fics. I've never done proper cowriting, but maybe someday.

What's your all time favourite ship?

Ugh, there's so many and they're all so dear to me. Jack/Ianto, Promnis, obviously Kouao. Rookanis, right now. I love them all so much, I can't choose.

What's the WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

UGH there are WIPs from my boyband slash days that still haunt me. (The Matrix one, the mage AU one…) I guess right now it's that DMMd one. It seems so far off now.

What are your writing strengths?

THIS IS HARD. SKEE WHY DID YOU MAKE ME DO THIS LOL. Uhh, I think I'm best at dialogue and interpersonal relationships, getting to the heart of scenes quickly (maybe too quickly sometimes). I like really getting in deep with vocabulary and trying to fit the wording just right for every sentence.

What are your writing weaknesses?

Plotting and structure feel like my biggest issues. Only once or twice have I ever actually managed to write an outline and plan out what would happen in a fic… and then it got away from me, and half of it didn't happen because it would have just overwhelmed the fic, heh. And then I didn't write the other half. That was the last Werewolves fic, To Be Human After All.

Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in a fic?

I've never written more than one or two words of another language in dialogue or otherwise in a fic. I usually italicize them, or in the case of the one Firefly fic, I added a translation in the end notes (I think it was "hun dan" - asshole). Most of the time it's something that I think the readers would understand, like sensei in something based on Japanese media.

First fandom you wrote for?

Hmm, I think technically it was Star Wars, when I was very wee. The first stuff I remember writing (actually physically writing, in school notebooks) was for ElfQuest, in an epic full of OCs (my Mary Sue character was half-elf, half-human, named Bluesky -- the irony, I know). The first stuff I posted online was X-Men comics related.

Favourite fic you've ever written?

Good lord, how am I supposed to choose. Did I mention I have 260 fics posted? And that's not even all of them. But since I haven't mentioned them much, I'll say it's the first FFVII Remake fic I wrote, reach out your hand, featuring Cloud/Biggs.

Aaaaaaaaaand I'm gonna tag @lindira on this one! This was super fun, even if it did make me have to think too much, lol.

[toki-is-here]

Tbh, I feel Gladio in chapter 10 is so shitty..

Forgive my rant, but for real like, Gladio is a great character, and he probably has this personality of being rough, and prefers being tough about problems that had happened to him, especially since he's a brother, of course he prefers being rude, but he kinda crossed the line with Noctis?

--------------------------------------

FFXV CHAPTER 10 SPOILERS //

Okay first of all, I think he's a pretty neat character, and I am attached to him with the other three (Noctis, Prompto and Ignis) as characters, but I wanted to say something here.

Noctis lost so many things already, and in this chapter he loses something else already, and I feel he could take the blame as well (Ignis got injured in the battle too) and he lost his father almost at the start of the game too, so tell me, how does the group handle this? Of course Ignis tries to do his best, Prompto is too but doesn't know how to keep the group together since this happened, Noctis is conflicted and can't even make himself wear the ring... and Gladio? Well, all I have seen is him talking shit to Noctis, the one that is losing a lot and is in conflict with everything.

I am okay with people that think that dealing with things in a tough way is their thing, of course sometimes tough love is the best path, but right now? You're talking shit to the guy that actually is in a duel right now? And let's not talk about how fast he has to become king because of his father's death.

I appreciate how Gladio is at least trying to help Noctis in his own way, but even Prompto doesn't know what to do.

Noctis is probably trying his best right here, but maybe it's just me, maybe Noctis is okay with the toughness Gladio is showing to him, but they even had an argument about his duty, and Gladio still is talking shit about him, in my perspective, it isn't okay, but it's a great detail for Gladio as well in his character, as I said before, he has a sister, and he probably wants to protect her and even maybe blames himself not even deep down, he probably blames himself a lot of he can't protect what he cares about and that's a great thing for him.

In conclusion, Gladio is a great guy, but I just wouldn't have been as rough as him if I saw the king have so much trauma shit in even the same day, thank you for reading :3

And also no hate to Gladio fans, he's still great and im sure he's doing this because he cares, and I love him as well 💙

[sukunaslilgurl]

Now we are free

Chapter Fourteen: Cruelty

The private room was dimly lit, the low glow of candlelight flickering across the polished wood of the table, casting long, eerie shadows on the walls. The clink of wine glasses filled the air as the high-ranked men, including Gladios, lounged around the room, each holding a goblet of deep red wine. Their laughter was rich and unrestrained, a sound that filled the room like an oppressive storm.

Gladios, tall and broad-shouldered, leaned back in his chair with an air of arrogance. His thick fingers wrapped around the stem of his glass, swirling the wine slowly, watching the deep crimson liquid catch the light. He let out a low chuckle, his lips curling into a sly smile as he leaned toward the others, speaking in a tone that seemed designed to provoke. “To the strongest,” he said, lifting his glass, “A toast to the one who has no equal.”

The others joined in, their laughter rising in volume, a chorus of arrogance and disdain. They drank deeply, savoring the taste as they exchanged banter and sly remarks. Gojo, ever the center of attention, sat back in his chair with a knowing grin, his fingers lightly tapping the rim of his own glass, the wine sloshing gently with each movement.

“Ah, how amusing,” Gojo said, his voice light but sharp, “Nothing like a good drink to celebrate power.”

The women, seated at the edge of the room, observed the scene with a mixture of amusement and unease. Utahime’s eyes flickered with barely contained fury, but she kept her mouth shut for the moment. Her eyes occasionally shot daggers at Gojo, but she knew better than to openly defy him in this atmosphere. She took a sip from her glass, her gaze flicking toward Irene, who sat quietly, trapped in her own thoughts.

Sukuna stood in the center of the room, his presence towering over everyone. His broad chest, defined abs, and the intricate tattoos that curled over his skin only added to his intimidating figure. The men continued to laugh as they watched him with hungry eyes, appreciating his strength, his raw power. Their admiration was laced with a kind of perverse pleasure, as if they were watching a wild animal, untamed and formidable.

At that moment, the laughter died down slightly as one of the men, a tall man with a cruel sneer, leaned forward and spoke in a slow, deliberate voice, the words cutting through the air like a blade. “What a powerful man,” he said, his voice dripping with mockery. “I wanted to see what he can do with the slave woman. Is his cock as good as his sword at battle?”

Irene’s breath caught in her throat as the gaze of every man in the room turned toward her. The air felt thick with malice. The men’s eyes gleamed with a mix of lust and disdain, and Irene could feel herself shrinking under their gaze, her heart pounding in her chest.

Utahime’s chair scraped against the floor as she stood, her face flushed with anger. “Don’t you dare—” she began, but her voice was cut off as Gojo waved a lazy hand through the air.

“Of course, do as you please,” Gojo said, his voice smooth and nonchalant, as if the matter was of no consequence.

The men laughed again, a cruel sound that echoed in the room. They exchanged knowing glances, clearly pleased with the spectacle they were creating. One of them, a shorter man with dark eyes, looked over at Utahime and then back at Irene, a wicked smile on his lips. “Isn’t she a slave?” he asked, the question dripping with disdain.

Gojo, with his usual bored tone, responded without a flicker of emotion. “Of course she is. And she has to do her duty,” he said, raising his glass in a mock toast to Irene, as if she were nothing more than an object to be played with.

The laughter surged again, louder this time, and it felt like a tidal wave crashing over Irene. She could feel the weight of their words pressing on her chest, suffocating her. The room spun slightly as she tried to steady herself, her hands trembling in her lap. The men continued to drink, their conversation now veering toward more twisted ideas, but all Irene could focus on was the oppressive presence of Sukuna standing silently, an unyielding force at the center of it all.

Each man continued to sip his wine, savoring the bitterness as if it mirrored the venom in their hearts. Their eyes never left her, and with every glance, she felt herself becoming smaller, less important—just another pawn in their sick game.

Irene’s heart hammered in her chest as the men continued to laugh and drink, their cruel words echoing in her ears like a constant, suffocating drumbeat. The room felt smaller now, the walls closing in as their gazes bore into her with the weight of their expectations. She could feel the oppressive weight of their control, the way they regarded her as nothing more than a piece of property—something to be used, something to be exploited. The bitterness in her throat grew, a mix of fear and humiliation that threatened to choke her. She was trapped, completely at their mercy.

Each time they spoke of her as a “slave,” it stung more than the last. It wasn’t just the word, but the way they said it, like it was a fact, an undeniable truth that left no room for escape or rebellion. The feeling of helplessness was overwhelming—her body tense with the desire to flee, but rooted in place, unable to move, unable to escape. She longed to fight back, to speak, to do anything—but she knew better. She knew what would happen if she even tried.

The laughter of the men felt like a mocking chorus, their voices laced with power and disdain. She could feel their eyes on her, lingering, judging. Their smirks and leers painted an ugly picture of what they wanted, what they expected. Every passing moment, the air grew heavier, the pressure mounting on her chest like a vice. She wanted to scream, to tear herself away from the situation, but the reality was too clear—she had no voice here. She was a thing to be used, a toy in their twisted games.

And then there was Sukuna. His presence filled the room like an ancient, oppressive force, his body a terrifying combination of raw power and untamed arrogance. He stood, seemingly indifferent to the men’s cruel comments, his eyes half-lidded in boredom. His tattoos, black and swirling over his exposed chest and arms, glowed faintly in the dim light, making him look otherworldly, like a being beyond human comprehension. His muscles were a sculpted masterpiece of strength, every inch of his body radiating dominance.

But it was not his physical form alone that made him so terrifying—it was the coldness in his eyes, the way he seemed above everything. He exuded an aura of invincibility, an unshakable confidence that made the room tremble in his presence. There was nothing human about him in that moment, nothing warm or approachable. He was a force of nature, an embodiment of destruction and power, and he seemed entirely unconcerned by the power the men were flaunting. His indifference was perhaps the most terrifying thing of all—he didn’t need to do anything to command respect. His mere existence was enough.

Irene couldn’t help but glance at him from the corner of her eye, her heart racing at the sight. There was something about him that was both awe-inspiring and deeply unsettling. The men seemed to worship him in their own way, but it was not with admiration—it was with fear and fascination, like they were all too aware of just how dangerous he truly was. His very presence was a reminder of how small and powerless she was, how easily they could break her, how easily he could crush her. How could press her underneath him and rape her without mercy. As the conversation shifted to Irene once more, and the men continued with their mocking taunts, one of them—tall, with cruel eyes—turned toward Sukuna with a wicked grin.

“Come now, let’s see if the strongest will show his true power,” the man sneered, his voice laced with perverse anticipation. “What would he do with the slave woman? Maybe show his huge cock inside her mouth of the whore she is. I wanted to see her crying while he fucks her from behind.”

Irene’s stomach twisted at the words, her heart sinking in her chest. She could feel her breath quicken, and her hands trembled, but all she could do was stand there, frozen, caught between her fear and the overwhelming sense of helplessness that clung to her like a second skin. Sukuna’s eyes flickered in the dim light as he heard the man’s words. His gaze shifted briefly to Irene, cold and calculating, but then, almost lazily, he responded, his voice low, but cutting through the tension in the room like a blade. “I’m not going to touch her,” he said firmly, his tone more dismissive than anything else. His gaze didn’t waver, his posture unbothered, but the command in his voice was undeniable.

The men fell silent for a moment, taken aback by his response. They had expected a different reaction, perhaps one of indulgence or participation in their twisted game. But Sukuna’s words hung in the air, defying their expectations. He wasn’t doing this for their amusement, nor for anyone’s. He had no interest in joining their perverse spectacle.

But Irene, though relieved in some way, could still feel the weight of the men’s disappointment. The oppressive atmosphere didn’t lift entirely; it lingered, heavy and suffocating, as they processed what had just been said. The men exchanged glances, murmuring among themselves, their amusement turning into slight frustration.

Sukuna took a slow, deliberate step back, his gaze never leaving the men as he added with a casual shrug, “You’d be wasting your time. She’s not worth it. I don’t want her. ” The words hung in the air like a cruel dismissal, and for a moment, Irene allowed herself to breathe, though she still felt the men’s eyes on her, the pressure of their expectations gnawing at her from all sides. It wasn’t much of a victory, but in that moment, Sukuna’s refusal, however cold and indifferent, had spared her—if only for a while. She knew he had done this with purpose.

The room had grown heavy, suffocating under the weight of silence after Sukuna’s words. The men, momentarily shocked by his refusal, exchanged uncertain glances. They were not used to being defied—especially not by someone as powerful as Sukuna. But their surprise was fleeting, quickly replaced by a subtle but growing irritation. It was Gojo, however, who broke the tension in the room, his usual relaxed demeanor shifting into something colder, more dangerous.

Gojo’s eyes narrowed as he leaned forward, his voice smooth but laden with a dangerous edge. “You’ll do as they demand,” he said, his words sharp, carrying an unspoken threat that hung in the air like a blade ready to fall. “Or I’ll make sure something else finds its way inside her. Something far less… pleasant.”

The men’s eyes flickered with a mix of disbelief and expectation, waiting for Sukuna’s reaction. Gojo’s threat wasn’t veiled—he was very clear, and the room shifted uncomfortably under the weight of it. Irene felt her stomach churn at his words, the implications sinking deep into her bones, cold and unforgiving. Gojo’s eyes didn’t leave Sukuna, his expression calm but dangerous, as if testing the limits of the other’s pride.

Sukuna’s gaze remained unfazed, his lips curling into a small, almost imperceptible smirk, but there was a flicker of something—something beneath the surface. He stood, still, in the center of the room, towering over everyone, a living embodiment of defiance. Yet, even he, the powerful and feared King of Curses, had limits. He was powerful, yes, but Gojo was no less formidable. And in this twisted game, Sukuna knew well the consequences of refusing.

For a moment, the room was on edge, the atmosphere so thick with tension it felt as though the air itself had frozen. The men’s eyes flicked between the two of them, sensing the conflict, waiting for someone to break. And then, as if to break the silence, one of the men—eyes gleaming with malicious intent—reached for the sword resting by his side. He slowly drew it from its sheath, the sound of the blade scraping against metal echoing through the room. The gleam of the steel reflected in the dim light, sharp and unforgiving. It was a weapon, but it was also a symbol—a threat of power, a reminder that in this room, they could make their own rules.

“I think we’ve waited long enough,” Gojo snarled, his voice dripping with menace as he slowly advanced toward Irene. “Let’s see if we can make her… more cooperative. Bend her over, if she doesn’t want his cock I will give her something larger.”

Irene’s heart seized in her chest. The fear that had been gnawing at her since the moment the men had begun their cruel game now felt real, tangible. She could almost feel the cold steel against her skin, and her body went rigid with terror. She couldn’t move, couldn’t escape.

The room was thick with silence after Gojo’s command, the men still lingering with an unsettling sense of dominance. Irene stood frozen, the fear tightening her chest like a vice, her heart hammering painfully in her ribcage. Her eyes darted nervously from one man to another, every step they made feeling like a threat. But then, before the tension could settle, a deep, thunderous voice cut through the silence, sending a chill down everyone’s spine.

“Do not harm her.”

Sukuna’s voice roared across the room, the command absolute and filled with fury. His words were not a plea, nor a warning—they were an order, a force of nature. His eyes, previously indifferent, now blazed with an intensity that none in the room could ignore. His presence, already immense and terrifying, seemed to swell as his anger erupted, radiating like a storm about to tear everything apart.

The men, even Gojo, paused for a brief moment, caught off guard by the sheer force of Sukuna’s intervention. The man holding the sword, still standing with it raised in the air, hesitated, his body trembling ever so slightly under Sukuna’s unwavering gaze. The intensity in Sukuna’s voice reverberated through the room, vibrating the very air with a palpable threat. Irene’s heart stopped for a moment, caught between the oppressive fear of the men and the overwhelming power radiating from Sukuna. She couldn’t understand why he had spoken up, why he had suddenly intervened for her. She had expected nothing but disdain from him, nothing but further cruelty. Yet, his words—commanding and furious—spoke volumes in a language of power she had no choice but to understand.

Sukuna’s glare turned to the man with the sword, the air around them thick with tension. The once confident, malicious smirk that had been present on the man’s face faltered, replaced by a hesitant wariness. The blade, still held high, now felt less like a weapon of control and more like a potential liability. Even the other men, who had been so eager to push Irene to the brink, shifted uncomfortably under Sukuna’s fiery gaze. They had thought they held the power, but now, it was clear who truly dominated the room. The room felt suffocating as everyone, even Gojo, waited for Sukuna’s next move. His expression was cold, yet his command was undeniable—like the weight of the world pressing down on anyone who dared defy him.

“Don’t even think about it,” Sukuna growled, his voice low, but filled with the kind of authority that made the men’s blood run cold. “If you harm her, you’ll regret it.”The threat was not just spoken—it was felt. The very air in the room seemed to thrum with Sukuna’s power, a dangerous promise hanging in the space between them all.

Irene couldn’t breathe as she processed what had just transpired. Sukuna had spoken for her, but there was no softness in his tone, no hint of compassion. It wasn’t kindness that motivated him—it was his pride, his dominance, the sheer unrelenting force that governed him. His intervention had saved her, but it was not for her. It was to preserve his control, his unyielding sense of superiority.

Gojo lowered the sword, his grip still tense but no longer threatening. The men around the room exchanged uncertain looks, their plans momentarily halted by the overwhelming presence of Sukuna. Irene, still trembling, dared not make a sound. She had no idea what this intervention truly meant—what Sukuna’s anger might cost her later. But for now, she was spared.

Her relief, however, was short-lived. The room was still thick with tension, and while Sukuna had spared her for the moment, the cruelty and violence that surrounded her hadn’t dissipated. It only took a shift in the wind, one wrong move, for the storm to resume. Sukuna’s gaze, now back on the men, softened into a cruel, predatory smirk. He wasn’t finished. Not by a long shot.

The tense atmosphere in the room crackled with energy, the balance of power teetering dangerously between Sukuna and the others. For a moment, it seemed as though the storm had passed, the danger of the situation retreating—but then Gojo’s voice sliced through the air, smooth and unflinching.

“That’s not a problem,” Gojo said, his tone deceptively calm, his eyes narrowing in a way that made the air grow even colder. “My, my, Sukuna… this is really bad, what you’re doing.”

Sukuna’s eyes flickered toward Gojo, irritation crossing his features, but there was a hint of caution in the way he observed his rival. Gojo, with that infuriating smirk, stood unaffected, as if the exchange were nothing more than a game to him. “You know,” Gojo continued, his voice carrying the weight of unspoken threats, “I can kill you immediately, without hesitation. You’re not untouchable here.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and chilling, sending a ripple of unease through the room. Irene’s breath hitched at the mention of Sukuna’s potential demise, her heart thundering in her chest. She could feel the very tension in the room, the clash of two titans—one controlling the men around her with their twisted whims, the other controlling them through sheer force of will. Both of them could destroy everything in an instant.

Gojo stepped forward, his eyes never leaving Sukuna’s. “Now, I want you to take her,” he said, the words cold and final. “And you will not do anything else. You will not make this more difficult than it already is. Do as I say, and everything will be fine.”

Irene’s blood ran cold at the words. Gojo was speaking as if she were nothing more than a piece in a game—something to be moved around at the whim of these powerful men. Her chest tightened, and the overwhelming sense of helplessness rose again. She had no voice here, no agency. She was nothing but a pawn in this twisted chess match between two titans. “But,” Gojo added, his voice low and dangerous, “if you disobey… we will kill her. That’s very easy.”

Irene’s breath caught in her throat. The weight of Gojo’s words hit her harder than any weapon ever could. The simple, chilling finality of it all. He was willing to take her life in an instant, to snuff it out like a candle’s flame, just to make a point. She was utterly powerless in the face of such cold cruelty, trapped between two forces that had no care for her existence beyond how she could be used.

For a long moment, Sukuna said nothing. He stood perfectly still, his gaze cold and calculating, like a predator watching its prey. His body was tense, every muscle coiled, but his expression remained unreadable. The silence stretched on, thick and unbearable.

Then, slowly, Sukuna’s lips curled into a wry, cruel smile. “So it comes to this, then?” he mused, his voice like gravel. “You think I’ll be intimidated by your threats, Gojo?” Gojo’s expression didn’t change, but the tension between them was palpable. Sukuna, however, took a slow step forward, his gaze never leaving Gojo’s. “You think you can threaten me like this and expect me to obey? You think you hold all the cards?”

“I don’t need to threaten you,” Gojo replied smoothly, his tone never wavering. “I just need you to understand the consequences. You’ll take her, and you’ll do exactly what I’ve told you. Or she dies. Simple as that.” The words were final, and the power in them hung like a guillotine waiting to fall.

Irene couldn’t help the tears that welled in her eyes as she stood there, trapped between the two men. Her body trembled, her heart heavy with the knowledge that her life was no more than a bargaining chip in their twisted game. Her mind screamed for escape, for a way out, but all she could do was stand, frozen, knowing that whatever happened next was beyond her control.

Sukuna’s smile didn’t fade, but there was something in his eyes—a flicker of recognition, a begrudging respect for Gojo’s position. “Very well,” he muttered, his voice heavy with reluctant understanding. “I’ll take her.”

The words came not as an agreement, but as a necessary concession. He had no choice. The rules had been set, and the consequences of defiance were far too great. With a final glance at Gojo, Sukuna’s expression remained cold, but there was an undeniable tension in his posture. It was clear he was not pleased, but the consequences of refusal were too dire.

Irene felt a chill creep through her veins as Sukuna’s gaze shifted toward her. The coldness in his eyes was almost worse than the threat itself—there was no warmth, no empathy. She was just another part of the deal, another pawn to be moved at his whim. Irene’s world was spinning, her mind a blur of fear and confusion. She had no idea what would happen next, but one thing was clear: her fate, her very existence, was now in the hands of two of the most powerful beings in the room—and she was nothing.

As Sukuna took a step toward Irene, his gaze cold and unrelenting, she felt her heart race in her chest. Her body was still trembling with fear, but something inside her broke. She couldn’t stand the thought of being pushed further into this cruel game, this nightmare, where she was nothing but a pawn to be controlled and manipulated by the whims of these men.

In a sudden, desperate move, Irene took a deep breath, steadying herself against the overwhelming fear. Her voice, shaky but loud enough to cut through the thick silence, rang out in the room.

“Fine,” she said, her words falling from her lips almost before she could stop them. “I’ll do it with him.”

The room fell deathly silent, the tension so thick it could have been cut with a knife. Everyone turned to look at Irene as she stood there, her eyes not meeting anyone’s gaze, her body tense with a mixture of fear and defiance. The words felt like they were ripping her apart from the inside, but she couldn’t bear to see them make her the object of their twisted amusement any longer. Maybe, just maybe, if she gave them what they wanted, she could end the torment, or at least have some semblance of control over her fate.

But Sukuna didn’t believe it—not for a second. His cold eyes flicked to Irene, his expression one of utter disbelief. His lips curled into a mocking, incredulous smirk, as if he couldn’t fathom that she would willingly submit to this—no, that wasn’t possible. His gaze darkened, a dangerous glint flickering behind those eyes.

“You think you can simply offer yourself to me?” Sukuna’s voice was a low growl, his words dripping with disbelief and disdain. He took a step back, as if the very idea of her submitting to him without any resistance confused him.

Irene stood her ground, her heart hammering, her mind a whirlwind of emotions. She could feel the weight of their eyes on her, the men’s cruel expectations. They had already made it clear they had no care for her well-being. She wasn’t doing this for them. She wasn’t doing this for any of them. She was simply trying to survive.

“I’ll do it,” Irene repeated, her voice quieter now, almost a whisper, as she turned her gaze to the ground, her face flushed with shame. “I’ll let him take me… just stop this.”

Sukuna remained silent, his eyes narrowed in disbelief. He studied her as if trying to figure out if she was playing some kind of game, trying to deceive him. But there was no deception in her eyes—only exhaustion, fear, and the stark reality of what she had been forced to do. Sukuna, for all his power, couldn’t ignore the complexity of the moment.

Gojo, watching the exchange with a calculating look in his eyes, smirked slightly. “Well, well, Sukuna,” he said with a hint of amusement in his voice. “It seems she’s made her choice.” His tone carried a sense of finality, as if the game had taken a new turn. “Now, let’s see what happens.”

But Sukuna didn’t move. He still stood there, staring at Irene, his expression unreadable. It was clear he hadn’t expected her to offer herself up so easily, and it unsettled him. The tension in the room remained, the air thick with the aftertaste of cruelty, of control, and of power.

Irene’s hands were trembling as she waited, heart pounding in her chest. She had no idea what would come next, but she was certain that, in this moment, she had just made the hardest decision of her life. She was still a pawn, still trapped, but maybe—just maybe—she could hold on to a shred of her own will, even if it was nothing more than the faintest ember of defiance against the overwhelming darkness around her.

[marmolita]

in amongst the fic writing I've been doing I'm still playing ffxv and I FINALLY got through Cartanica tonight. What a seriously frustrating part of the game! I kept getting lost, or I'd fall off a cliff and then Gladio would yell at me for getting too far ahead (I FELL Gladio I wasn't TRYING to get ahead), or it got so dark I couldn't see where I was going at all. I tried to do that photo side quest but when I had two left I was like screw it this isn't worth it.

Anyway it's a great mechanic that you have to wait for Ignis because it really does immerse you in the sadness and frustration. Also Gladio was very much a dick this whole time, probably because he knows he should've been the one to get hurt for Noct instead of Ignis but he can't change the past and can't deal with his feelings. I did appreciate Ignis's little speech but man I wish Noct had some lines in there? and it's not like I could go talk to Ignis afterwards.

Anyway my last thought on the matter is that this dialog popping up after Gladio insulted me absolutely killed me:

[omegothic]

opinion on ffxv after 75 hours of playing (and one hour of running in circles to level gladio's skill up) (still haven't played any of the dlcs but i'm gonna take a break or something for a few days because i severely neglected my university stuff and spent most of the last week obsessively playing this game)

i love this game. am i tired? hell yeah. would i want all these hours back? hell no.

the game is a mystery to me.

the sidequests are genshin impact open world quests level (which means that if i hear anyone talking, i'm pressing the skip button because i don't give a fuck). you listen to someone yapping about unimportant stuff and they make you collect the same shit over and over again. peak game design.

the main quests are good but the ending made me age 10 years in a week. there's NO NEED for these tragedies. boy you literally have the power of gods on your side and they tell you the only way to get rid of the big bad villain is to kill yourself? sounds like bullshit to me. also why even bother if there's only a few thousands people left in the world. you already lost, all this stuff had to be done 10 years ago to have any meaning. and there's no way the world didn't just implode or something when the sun stopped rising. the true ending is noctis getting spat out of the crystal and realising everyone is long gone because there's no sunlight.

the mentally ill hobo could have been more cooperative too geez. i'll be honest i like him much more than the six. and everyone's like "oh gods are helping you" no they hate me and want me to die for no reason. i'd rather join forces with ardyn and try to take them down. even if he did a lot of questionable stuff (cough- killed my bride -cough-cough- and her brother -cough- also kidnapped my friend and tortured him-)

the hunts are kinda fun when it's a big monster but when it's a bunch of goblins i'm like,,, why did you call me here? ngl i thought all hunts would be like the first one, it was truly cool. there was some kind of plot, some interactions with my friends, some stealth, the monster seemed really tough (meanwhile me, fighting the lvl 99 adamantoise 65 hours later: the ring of lucii go brrr-)

the dungeons are ass. i thought nothing could be as disorienting as daggerfall's randomly generated dungeons but they really managed to do a miracle with ffxv. although the dungeons in ffxv are not scary at all, that's the difference.

the open world is okay. there're some interesting places (when you first see the big mysterious creature in the lake you're like do i have to fight it?? can i get closer to it?? what is this??) and the nature is beautiful. altissia looks majestic but sadly there's not much to do. i appreciate the hard work tho.

using regalia was a delight. when you want to take a break and just look at the landscape you can just sit still with a controller in your hands and enjoy the ride. really therapeutic. don't drive at night when you're low level though... listen to ignis. ignis is always right.

the camp life is by far the best out of all games i've had an experience with. there's so many little details everywhere that you cannot help but adore your companions. it's the way every time you make camp you get a bunch of photos prompto took since the last break. it's the way your companions talk to you almost all the time and you truly feel like you are on a road trip with your friends. it's the way gladio calls you out on your bullshit and afterwards you want to bite his head off each time you talk to him. it's the way ignis cooks for the entire party and makes you help him sometimes. i just love the way friendship is portrayed here.

what was not as good is luna and noct's relationship. there was not enough of luna. yes she loves noct but why? yes noct loves luna but why? luna literally appeared in the plot for two minutes and then tragically died. i think it's really bad. also imagine not seeing your bride for 12 years, when you finally meet her again she immediately dies, then you spend 10 years trapped in a crystal, fucking die and then get to marry your bride. honey it's been 22 years since i last talked to you in person. i'm NOT marrying a random woman in the afterlife (no hate for luna, just this love story didn't seem convincing enough). hopefully i'm gonna see what they wrote in the dawn of the future soon (please pray so that my amazon package doesn't get lost 🙏)

the music is incredible. the woman who wrote the soundtrack is my goddess and i am a devout worshipper 🙏🙏🙏

so, why is the game a mystery to me? because no other game could make me endure 75 hours of boring side quests. i managed to play hogwarts legacy for 44 hours and i despised that game when i finished it. i despised it long before i finished it. but not ffxv. they could make me do all this boring stuff again and i would do it (not for free tho because i've got better things to do with my time 🤣)

i enjoyed ffxv a lot. it also made me depressed for a week because ending a game like that should be a crime. i think i'm gonna do a few last quests after that but there's not much left (and i'm not looking for more because if i think i am done then i am done). not sure how long episodes gladiolus, prompto and ignis are gonna take, but they're also in my plans (no ardyn tho, gotta go watch some playthrough). there's also anime and a film so plenty of content for me. and i am waiting for the arrival of my book 🫡

(noticed that there's nothing about the combat. well it's because i don't care. i don't like combat. i don't like it in any game. i prefer to flee)

[sparklecryptid]

You made me decide to get FFXV, and I cannot express enough how much it’s making me laugh with promptos camera shots and then it’s just. Gladios ass.

Does Gladio’s ass not deserve its own spot in the FFXV hall of fame along with his abs? Can we not appreciate the boys and their lack of ass?

Also welcome to the club! We have *checks notes* angst, crack, poly, and Ardyn.