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a-world-in-grey · 2 years ago

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@raven-6-10 @secret-engima

Under a cut, because this got long trying to respond to everything:

Sola being the first Omega in centuries and the first woman since Merula the Honest (great-grandmother to the Wise) does mean that the court’s forgotten that neither female nor Omega Lucis Caelums have ever been meek or demure. Sure, neither the Rogue nor the Just were ever as openly fierce as Sola. Hell, some even believe the two famous queens were reserved. Which, they aren’t wrong. But the Rogue was reserved in that she hardly interacted directly with the court, preferring to act from the shadows with the aid of her Retinue, while the Just seemed reserved because she had near legendary self control and patience. So Sola, who doesn’t have much patience for anything other than her family and her people, who never had a use for subtlety before joining the Glaives, who is unapologetically fierce and protective and doesn’t give a damn about the sensibilities other people think she should conform to, is nothing like what the court expects from an Omega Princess, even one from a warrior lineage.

Honestly, between Prompto and Tredd, who claims a royal first is up in the air. Could even happen at the same time. Noctis and Prompto have been thick as thieves for years by this point, and after Noctis starts going to Little Galahd, after Sola joins the Glaive and they start bringing her down to Little Galahd with Noctis and on her own, well. None of the Galahdians are surprised when Prompto and Tredd become Noctis and Sola’s respective Hearts.

Saying the lore about Sky-born got dismissed implies the Lucis Caelums ever had lore in the first place. So few Lucis Caelums have ever been Sky-born. The most notable before Sola was the Fierce, and he was an Alpha (I think?) and male during a time of war so most of the signs were attributed to that instead of him being not-quite-human. There are records in the archives that mention certain Lucis Caelums being far more fiercely protective than normal for most of the royal family, but without the lore to really explain why? No one really ever looked that deep into it.

Yeah, before Sola joins the Glaive she didn’t have any friends. She was older than Gladio and Ignis, so her parents were waiting to introduce them until the boys were older - about five or six. But then Sola declared that she didn’t want to be Queen, and Noctis was born and Sola was doting on him, Aulea’s death making Sola shun her magic as useless, and then the foiled assassination attempt on Noctis. So no, not many children her age wanting to hang out with the ‘scary princess’, and with Sola publicly not wanting the throne, few noble parents were inclined to push their children into Sola’s vicinity despite her reputation in hopes of forging connections. The glaives are good for her. They aren’t scared of her. They treat her like an equal because Sola was personally apprenticed to Cor and they respect her combat capabilities and her obvious dedication to her brother. They also immediately recognize that she’s a half-feral baby Cloud Omega, then a half-feral Sky-born Cloud Omega, so they respect her boundaries. Oh, they still tease her and all that but her retaliating by starting a brawl is pretty typical for Galahdians so she’s never derided for being violent, and Sola knows the glaives will give as good as they get.

Sola is absolutely going to punch a racist. When, not if. She’s going to give Titus, Cor, Clarus, and Regis so many headaches in the future, because each time Sola punches a Crownsguard (she never punches a civilian, no matter how much she wants to, but the Crownsguard are supposed to have discipline so they’re fair game) Titus and Cor have to haul both Sola and the idiot Crownsguard (or guards) in front of Clarus who as head of Lucis’ military forces is overall commanding officer to both the Crownsguard and the Kingsglaive, and Regis. Sola pretty much gets written up every time for assaulting a Crownsguard.

It’s not as often as you might think, because despite the rampant anti-Galahdian sentiment, Sola doesn’t usually punch every Crownsguard who spouts their crap. Most she warns off with a growl (so different from normal growls, normal growls don’t have subsonic harmonics that reverberate in your bones) and an Omega growling at someone is universal for said Omega being at their limit, so back off because that’s your last warning, and while Omegas are stereotyped somewhat as being meek homebodies, rusty instincts still remember that Omegas are the protectors of the home, and are beyond vicious in protecting that home because they’re the last line of defense and if enemies have gotten that far then there’s a good chance said Omega won’t be getting reinforcements. So Omegas put down threats and put them down hard. Something mostly forgotten in the modern age - especially with the safety of the Wall.

So when Sola growls or snarls or otherwise vocalizes that final warning, everyone’s hindbrains sit up and take notice. Of course, not all people listen to the instinct telling them that further antagonizing the pissed off Omega is a bad idea. Because sometimes a Crownsguard will try to provoke a glaive into throwing the first punch, will poke and prod until well beyond any normal temper would have snapped. It’s not like they’ll stay injured long, not with Hi-potions being a thing, assuming they don’t beat up the glaive in ‘self-defense’. And the glaive gets in trouble for assault. Those are the Crownsguard Sola usually ends up punching, because those are the ones that don’t listen to the warning Sola gives them to back off.

Of course, Crownsguard’s word against a Glaive is one thing. Crownsguard against the Princess? Entirely different story. Clarus and Regis refuse to let their relationship to Sola bias their judgement, but Sola is pretty infamous for being honest. She always fully owns up to throwing the first punch, but she’s always blunt about how the Crownsguard were there looking to start a fight. So she gave them one. Hence Sola getting written up and put on punishment duties, which she takes without complain every time. The Crownsguard also get written up, because them pulling this kind of stunt is not acceptable and Cor comes down hard on future fights between Glaives and Crownsguards, which helps curb the number of idiots who try to pull this shit because they quickly realize that 1) they can’t get away with it so easily, and 2) any injuries sustained in said fights will not be treated with curatives, so all parties involved get to heal the slow way while on punishment duty.

Sola probably never picks up the scentless habit. Not fully anyway. Having to keep her scent tamped down during missions means she’ll keep her scent somewhat suppressed out of habit, because the glaives keep their scents suppressed during training so as to practice before having to do it in the field, and it’s easier to go from partial to fully suppressed than all at once. So Sola’s used to keeping her scent on the down low. But no, she never fully suppresses it in her day to day. She sees it as a Galahdian culture thing. Little Galahd, Glaive HQ, and the Citadel are all places she can technically claim as territory (even before she’s adopted, Sola is very explicitly welcomed in Little Galahd in a manner that makes it clear she can call it home), which are the only places were she’d run into a sufficient number of Galahdians to consider abiding by Galahdian cultural standards. But by Galahdian standards none of those are places where she would have to suppress her scent.

She does ask about the scent suppressing! She figures it’s a case of cultural norms clashing, and that conclusion is reinforced by the Galahdians’ explanation, so she never thinks to bring it up. Which means there’s delightful misconceptions from Regis, Cor, and Clarus because Sola obviously respects Titus, which doesn’t make sense. Why does Sola not have a problem with the man who so clearly hates her family? Why does she respect him?

How did Titus and Sola reach the level of trust/closeness that they’re vocalizing around each other?

On Sola’s side, she never really took stock in the ‘don’t vocalize at those no family/close friends’ etiquette rule. Part of it is due to her instincts being a hell of lot stronger, and part of it is her instincts making words difficult when she’s emotional. Vocalizations and reaching out with her magic is just… easier. Clearer. It’s harder to lie.

Titus, on the other hand, is instead operating on a combination of Galahdian morals and Captain responsibility. This is a child who has explicitly reached out to him for his help. So that she can better protect another child. A Sky child. And once Sola’s his responsibility, well, she’s not much different from the other hundreds of reckless idiots he’s responsible for. So he treats her the same way, a very Galahdian way which doesn’t conform at all to Mainlander etiquette standards.

It’s a good thing Sola hasn’t really gotten into the habit of partially suppressing her scent when Cor comes to yank her from the Glaive. Because Cor would’ve misconstrued that entirely and thought that Sola was starting to hate him, and it wouldn’t be unreasonable to think Titus the cause of Sola’s change of heart towards her godsfather and favorite uncle. Which would have been a mess.

If Noctis and Prompto hide out in Little Galad before Sola joins the Glaive, Cor and the Crownsguard do their utmost to keep Sola from finding out that Noctis is missing. Fortunately, Cor is with Sola when he gets the call, and is sufficiently skilled in undercover work to keep his scent from souring. He can’t keep his magic from showing his distress however, and Sola picks up on it. She asks what’s wrong, and Cor not-quite-lies and tells Sola that it’s Crownsguard business. Sola doesn’t have any reason to distrust Cor, and she knows that Cor can’t tell her details about anything classified, and clearly this isn’t a dumb but amusing in hindsight fuck up.

Sola doesn’t question when Cor extends their training session for a couple more hours. It doesn’t happen often, but when a particularly vexing case of Stupidity occurs Cor will put off having to deal with the moron in question by training Sola until he’s less inclined to shake the moron by the scruff of their neck. He ends the training session not long after he gets another call, his scent and magic relieved if still with that particular edge that means whoever screwed up is going to be regretting their life choices in short order.

Sola never actually learns that the Crownsguard lost track of her brother for a handful of hours. Which is fortunate for the Crownsguard in question because if she knew they’d have more than just the Marshal’s displeasure to worry about.

Now, if Prompto and Noctis play hooky after Sola joins the Glaive, Sola is well aware of when the Crownsguard loses track of her brother, but also knows that Noctis and his best friend are safely ensconced in Little Galahd with a number of off-duty glaives keeping an eye on them (and the other kids in Little Galahd) while they play. Sola is absolutely peeved enough with the Crownsguard to let them panic a couple extra hours and subject them to the increased displeasure of the Marshal, King’s Shield, and King. Especially because it’s unlikely she’ll be allowed to beat the shit out of them like she’d prefer.

If Sola existed in Stand Strong verse, what would be her reaction to Galahdians in general and Glaives in particular? Would she still join the Kingsglaive or would Regis and Cor try harder to remove her from it? Would she still have a crush on Libertus?

Oooh, Stand Strong verse! Aka the fun glaives! @secret-engima feel free to correct me if I get anything wrong, it's been a while since I scrolled through this 'verse.

Sola doesn't really meet the Galahdians in Little Galahd until after she's been adopted by Tredd, so the glaives would be the first Galahdians she meets. And honestly, Sola feel an even stronger sense of kinship with these fae-like glaives. All her life she hasn't fit. She's an Omega when most LCs are Alphas, she's an Omega Sword when Swords are never Omegas - Hearts and perhaps the occasional Shield, but never Swords - and she's got distinctly nonhuman instincts even with the instincts that come from secondary genders.

Amongst the glaives who don't care to conform to Insomnia's definition of human, Sola, for the first time in her life, actually feels at home.

Yes, she still joins the Kingsglaive. She's less demanding in this verse - the Kingsglaive is Captain Drautos' territory, and one doesn't lightly invade an Alpha's territory even if that Alpha is sworn to her father. Instead, Sola sets up an actual appointment (Cor is neatly distracted by Abyssus and Ignis and maybe some surreptitious aid from Amissa) to meet with Drautos and formally request to train with the Kingsglaive, as she's finished her apprenticeship under Marshal Leonis and seeks to expand her capabilities to better protect her King.

Titus is well aware of the Rage Sola went into not even a week prior. All the glaives know, the princess was in no way subtle for all that she kept her Rage contained away from anyone who might get caught in the crossfire. Unlike his glaives, however, Titus knows the reason for Sola's Rage. Knows the King forbade Sola from accompanying her brother to Tenebrae on the basis of it being too dangerous. And Titus has to wonder how well Regis actually knows his daughter, because even in the bare handful of times he's been close enough to the Princess to observe her Titus knew how poorly Sola would take that decision. A Cloudy Dragon of an Omega, and Regis denied her from protecting her Territory?

A Rage was inevitable.

And now the Cloud (who might have been a Sky, before attempts to make her conform into an ill-fitting mold made her retreat so far into her Cloud that any hint of Sky was thoroughly overwhelmed) is sitting on her own bristling territorial instincts, bowing her head to his authority as the Alpha of the Kingsglaive, despite technically outranking him as Crown Princess.

This isn't just revenge towards the King and the Marshal for separating her from her younger brother and Sky. Sola is desperate.

Of course she is, Titus realizes. By barring Sola on the basis of it being too dangerous, the King has implied that Sola isn't good enough to protect her Sky. Despite having completed her apprenticeship under Cor the Immortal. So Sola has gone looking for training from one of the only people capable of match the Marshal in a fight. Titus.

If he turns her away, it's likely Sola will do something exceedingly reckless to prove herself capable of standing as Noctis' Sword.

Well, at least she'll fit right in with the rest of his reckless idiots.

Cor and Regis do try to pull Sola from the Kingsglaive. Not necessarily because of the Kingsglaive's fae reputation. No, it's because they think Titus loathes Regis, and that makes them wary of Sola being in close proximity to the man. Of course, Sola puts her foot down and actually snarls at Cor when she's pulled from bootcamp and sent up to Titus' office to find Cor demanding she leave the glaive. And not the playful snarls she's always given him before during their spars or play fights. No, this is a full on this-is-your-last-warning-before-I-tear-your-throat-out snarl, complete with bared teeth and hands curling into claws.

Titus rumbles low in his throat, a wordless admonishment to keep things civil, please, and Sola forces herself to settle with only a low grumble. Cor's too well trained to rear back in surprise, but his magic betrays him where his body doesn't, and Sola can feel the shock and instinctive wariness hearing that kind of snarl from an Omega elicits. They are able to work things out civilly so that Sola can continue training with the glaives, and Cor is able to warn Regis when he comes home with Noctis so Regis doesn't try the same thing.

Of course, Sola training with the glaives means she stops conforming so stringently to all those human sensibilities, so there's absolutely rampant gossip that Sola's been turned fae by her association with the glaives. Then those that remember Sola ripping out an assassin's throat with her teeth chip in, and the gossip mutates to Sola always having been fae and it's merely a matter of the glaives reclaiming one of their own.

Before joining the glaives, Sola would not have been happy about the rumors. Now, after training with the glaives in being sneaky and pants-shittingly terrifying, Sola is all too willing to use her new skills in psychological warfare to her and her King's benefit.

Sola absolutely still gets a massive crush on Libertus, Nyx still calls her Pipsqueak and gets his kneecaps taken in revenge, and Tredd still ends up adopting her around her 19th birthday. Dunno if Sola ends up bonding with a Retinue, but if she does they're all Galahdians and the public sees it as further proof of Sola being as fae as the rest of the glaives.

#ffxv #Shadow of Heaven's Light #Stand Strong verse

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hanzajesthanza · 3 years ago

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waking up from a dream of the hansa’s fates somehow worse than stygga…

i think posting your dreams about characters online can be kind of cringe if you insist that they were entertaining and wonderful and everyone should take them for canon… i just want to record this somewhere because it was disturbing to me hah 😅

at first in the dream, i thought that this was a previously-unseen epilogue to the hansa where they were interacting in the afterlife. very happy with that premise, i sat down and read on.

i realized though, from the subject matter (and also the fact regis was there) that this wasn’t the afterlife…

in this scene, the hansa (of the ones who went to stygga at least) were locked in some cavernous death trap. it appeared to be a grand library. i have no idea where this was or why they were confronting their deaths in such a macabre way.

the reason i’m writing this post was because the prose was actually on the page of the book (i could see the printed text on the pages of the book and read the words in the dream). i also saw this as a visual scene with the characters interacting but it was the text reading itself out. i’ll write down what i remember from it:

The Witcher paced incessantly.

Cahir, a brave boy, stood solemnly by the wall, and turned his head away from the group when he began to cry to his mother Mawr.

The archer Milva sat on the floor heavily. One by one, she took out her arrows and examined their sharp metal heads, evaluating them carefully as if judging which ones would better serve to cut her wrists with.

this is where i realized that it’s not a epilogue, but a death scene. it continues, though i have to say this part is annoying to me because of two reasons.

firstly, i don’t share the headcanons expressed here (i dont think regis would act in this way. perhaps the company is sincerely defeated though. and i also dont agree with the headcanons of him having a history of some vague childhood or parents, that’s not part of my personal canon). so what i’ll be writing is, again, not entirely reflective of what i believe, it’s just what i “saw” in my dream.

secondly, regis’ dialogue became lowercase and formatted “incorrectly” before i stopped reading it. it was a disturbing scene to read, so that’s when i closed the book (even though we had yet to read the description of angoulême… (see tags for more explanation)). but i’ll keep this “incorrect” formatting towards the end because it’s what i “saw”.

for parts of the text that i didn’t “see”, i’ll just put ellipses as such: “[…]” because i don’t want to create interpolations

The vampire, confronted with his own death, began to read literature dated to his childhood, several hundred years ago. He had never read any of it before, but that was of no matter.

The cat […]

[…]

But watch out!

He closed the book heavily and sighed. Staring up at the wall. The Witcher came to sit next to him.

“I can’t take it,” he said mournfully. “i want a drink … i’m sorry … i feel disgusting for that …”

as for my sensations while experiencing this dream, it was typical, i could see them all moving around within the space from different shots/angles, like a live-action, but i couldn’t see (or remember?) their eyes very well. i could hear regis’ voice speak (yes it was the peter kenny audiobooks voice 😔), though i couldn’t hear cahir cry.

then the rest of the dream before i woke up was trying to run around the house i was in to take pictures of the books in even lighting so i could send them to my friends and ask if they remembered such a passage…

the pages were 430-1. outwardly, it appeared to be the regular UK paperback lady of the lake.

strangely enough, i also had the polish version with me and opened it to find the passage, and i managed to find it but could not read any of it, though i “saw” and remember how the text was formatted on the page.

this is also when i woke up, i wasn’t able to find a place to take a picture of it. but at least i remember what was written and what happened?

#regis and angouleme may have had an interaction but the most annoying part is that i cant remember it #i believe regis was like ‘this was written when i was a boy’ and she teased him for being old (lol)#but what she said didnt really make sense / i cant remember how the dialogue went so thus the […]#the witcher books #f: a hansa’s a hansa #cw character death #cw alcoholism #cw self harm #cw wrists #the elbow-high diaries

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ooc-but-stylish · 3 years ago

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freezedive:

I think I said it in one of your other beautiful posts, but I thought I’d mention it again. All of the ridiculous cutscenes did give us a golden nugget of information on Luna that most of us who are brutally critical of her (like you and me), suspected all along: Luna openly admits to Gentiana that she doesn’t think she has anything to offer Noctis outside of being an oracle. And Gentiana makes it worse by speaking in fancy words by saying some bullshit about her being the oracle is her being human or something and that she is fulfilling her true calling and that is what Noctis needs? Idk but it reeked of emotional manipulation.

I hold little to no regard for Ravus because there’s evidence Luna was being brutally beaten right under his own nose while he was busy being the Emperor’s lapdog thinking it could maybe give him the power to save his sister? The man should have opened his eyes and defended her against the men that kept them jailed

I happened on this reply to roxainn’s post while trying to recapitulate all my other FFXV critical posts and reblogs on the way to making new ones.

Crawling back to find anything about this point, I find that it was posted 3 years ago. But at least I reblogged the reply to it.... and missed that it was literally @ ME. Goddamn did I slack.

But here’s my reply, 3 years late, which should elaborate on where I stand on this.

Yes, the flashback that gets triggered by a random creepy little girl in Tenebrae is about Luna and Gentiana. Somehow the little girl knew about that conversation even though she wasn’t there to witness it first-hand? Or maybe Noctis was imagining what the conversation would be like between Gentiana and Luna off of the vague suggestion from the girl, and it’s just him telling on himself that his imagination of Luna says all that? Otherwise the not-altogether-tinfoil-hat theory says it’s Gentiana in the form of a little girl, telling Noctis something that IMO should piss him off but just makes him sad and guilty because Luna loved him so much, don’t you see. She loved him so much that after wrapping her entire life around him, she’d just want to keep that going for the rest of their lives!

Gentiana opens the conversation with, “At first, the father had mourned the fate of his chosen son. Yet in Tenebrae, the two found solace. It was not the Oracle who assuaged their fears. But the girl…she holds…the true power.”

Then Luna replies, “I have little to offer a king, other than the voice afforded the Oracle. Nevertheless…” She turns to look at the wedding dress. “And—I’m afraid he might find this foolish… But…to be together with Noctis again, even if only for a short while… It…would mean the world to me. I do not seek to guide him, merely to stand beside him.”

The exchange is all types of fucky.

First off, she was twelve. What comfort could she have offered Regis and Noctis? What comfort was she capable of when Sylva was right there, an adult with experience of an Oracle and a personality thanks to a presumable full life not hampered by grooming of the gods?

Second, every other scene of Luna as a child is of her telling Noctis his duty, and that it was her duty to see it through. Did that assuage his fears-- the fears he didn’t have at the time since he never knew the entire meaning of his fate and was being told a saccharine, embellished version of it by Luna right there? Did that comfort Regis, knowing a little girl would also die to protect his son if the gods wanted it, but that she wouldn’t have the will to avert their fates whatsoever?

Third, even she thinks Noctis would think her desire to be with him is foolish. So... was she expecting that Noctis himself didn’t have feelings for her or want to spend time with her of his own volition for reasons outside of her job? She was looking forward to a marriage with no emotional security, where her desires are one-sided and unreciprocated, and the man she cares for think she’s worthless outside of her powers? She would’ve been willing to put herself through that, given a choice?

We know what we know and think what we think, but the fact that this was placed right in the vanilla game and no one thought that was wrong, and instead they doubled down on it in patches, is pathetic on their part.

Moreover, what does The Girl have, that was separate from The Princess and The Oracle? Every facet of her being wrapped around Noctis since age 4. She was nothing but her duty by the time Noctis met her; they had no scenes where they acted as children would. Even supplemental/promotional art for other XV media and related locales cement that. Little Luna serves Little Noctis pastries, she’s not seen eating with him. Luna teaches Noctis how to play piano, she’s not playing with him. Dawn of the Future came out with its own art, and Noctis is afforded the liberty to sit in a chair, and his son(?) sits on his lap, while Luna and her spitting image child(?) are both on their knees, looking up at the dudes.

In most of their art together, Luna and Noctis are either not meeting each other's gazes, she's bending or kneeling to him, or he's supposed to be holding her close but he hover-hands her, or there’s that one time where they took a selfie and the picture was of their Pocket Edition versions. They’re still not looking at each other in that one. And it’s not canon.

Anyway yeah, any conversation Gentiana has with Luna about Noctis is emotional manipulation on Gentiana’s part, but the writers manage just enough to make everyone involved seem creepy and reprehensible in their own way.

In DOTF, Luna has a death soliloquy that confirms she sunk into the water at the end of the game’s Chapter 9, but the soliloquy is about how she was prepared to die even at the age of 12, and she put on a smile and resolved to be strong for Noctis’s sake, so that he wouldn’t remember her having a look of despair. There’s a line there about how she would cry herself to sleep but Gentiana would wipe her tears. Gentiana does nothing else except allow her to cry and wipe her tears afterward, and makes no effort to save her from her fate or at least take her out of terrible situations so that she would cry fewer tears. But there is cut dialogue from the game, and used in the novel, where Gentiana revealed herself as Shiva when Luna was <16 (probably still 12 at the time), when she thought she was being held back from forming the covenants, so there’s that. And Luna still somehow ignored that this meant Shiva allowed Sylva to die, and thanked this useless goddess for her nonexistent generosity.

For whatever reason they had to add a passage where Luna superimposes the image of an eight-year-old Noctis onto the adult version-- quote, "the image of him as a child, burned into my eyelids, overlaps with his now-grown face"-- even though Noctis has canonically sent her photos of him as a teenager (15-16, around the time he met Prompto in high school, see: Brotherhood). Granted, that's a translation from Luna's voice actress reading an excerpt as if it were first person POV. The English version says she sees the child image first, then the adult version is superimposed. Then not much after that there's a passage where Noctis smiles as his child self and it was "that smile she loved that had been in her heart all these years, giving her strength, always and forever".

So she was groomed and turned into a shell since age 4, believes she has no value outside of her job and turned her grooming on a similarly vulnerable child, and her strongest image of him, the one she fell in love with and kept in her heart, is of the helpless boy that promised her the world without knowing the cost. The smile of the carefree boy that didn't know his journey would end with his soul annihilated. It couldn’t have been that hard to have her see an image of him as the 30 year old True King of Light that he would become. At least she'd sound a little less like a weirdo who continually places herself (and is placed by the narrative) as below him, unworthy of him, etc. but also has strong feelings and memories toward a goddamn child.

Re: Ravus: you already got a reply to that, but for real? Ravus was also shafted by the plot and beaten down by terrible, amateur writing. The narrative shits on him as if it’s written by a high schooler or otherwise emotionally arrested adult trying to push a Mary Sue Protagonist. The modus operandi for those stories is that everyone who disagrees with the protagonist in any way has to suffer tremendous humiliation including but not limited to death, because the Protagonist Is Just So Good And Perfect And Always Right.

Nothing Ravus does justifies his treatment in-game or in-fandom like he’s a one-note out-and-out villain who wanted nothing but to kill Noctis and disrespect his sister, to the point where his corpse is defiled multiple times in Chapter 13 and he’s twisted into a perversion of himself that begs to die.

Chapter 13 has Noctis land next to Ravus’s corpse and all his letters to Luna, and Noctis has piss all to say about it, either out loud or to anyone. He looks at the Sword of the Father, glances at Ravus, and without a word takes the Royal Arm and lets the Magitek arm-- still dripping, still gross-- fall onto Ravus’s body and doesn’t even move it.

He had no way of knowing beforehand that Ignis and Gladio knew of Ravus being killed. WE didn't even know they saw security footage until Ch13V2 was added in. Noctis happening on his late fiancée's dead bro sounds, I don’t fucking know, like something you’d want to tell everyone else about later. Along with the letters he wrote evidencing that he intended to return the Sword of the Father to Noctis!

An aside: The Letters from Ravus are just weird to behold; it isn't 100% clear whether Luna ever received all of those letters. She had to have received the first one, at least. But the idea that Ardyn intercepted even one other letter so that Luna never heard from her brother between Tenebrae and Altissia is farfetched. He shouldn’t be able to intercept those messages as if they were delivered conventionally. Luna has a pair of magic space-bending Shiba Inu that send letters instantly across continents. If she’s sparing their use to send Noctis one-liners and stickers but can’t afford that for Ravus to send her discrete updates on Noctis’s status, she’s a piece of shit.

They do meet in Tenebrae as Ravus wanted her to, and they have the conversation where he gets on her case about her “throwing [her] life away” for Noctis. So chances are higher that Ardyn only got a hold of all three letters after Luna received them and no sooner, but then he shouldn’t be tossing letters from Ravus at the dude’s body when it makes more sense for him to toss down letters to Ravus, since the writers wanted to make a point of Ardyn having a vicious streak. It makes way more sense for Ardyn to deprive Ravus of Luna’s writing, then insult him with them post-mortem, unless Ravus’s notes were really all he could acquire, meaning Luna never once wrote back to her brother.

The Doylist explanation is that the writing team sucks and couldn't be assed to think of anything for Luna to say because they didn't think of her at all. The Watsonian explanation is that Luna’s a piece of shit and that tracks with her in Kingsglaive watching her brother burn alive in response to the Ring, but ignoring him and running to Regis’s aid instead, but then the rest of the plot presents her as morally pure through her white clothing and “unconditional, self-abnegating love” for Noctis.

Back to the topic: I don’t know, maybe I’m being old fashioned, but Noctis should’ve given more of a shit that his dropping the Magitek Arm on Ravus’s body was probably what turned him into a mutated abomination begging to die, and he thought so little of Ravus that the dude isn’t even in the glimpse of "people who helped me get this far" in the Beyond. Ravus doesn’t even get a spot to wish Noctis and Luna well on their afterlife wedding, not that it makes any sense for any of them to have words to say since Noctis is already dead, no one was there with them, and none of the bros expressed any sign that they knew that Noctis was bound to get married after his sacrifice (he sure doesn’t mention it in the final campfire scene and that’d be a better place than any). But anyway, Regis is in the Beyond at Noctis’s side even though he never told Noctis a damn thing and still never spoke to him from within the Ring, but Ravus? Nah, he’s the real asshole somehow and doesn’t deserve any recognition whatsoever.

The only other characters I know of that have a remotely similar dynamic to Noctis, Luna, and Ravus (lovers, but the girl has a straight-edge protective brother working for the bad guys) is Nero, Kyrie, and Credo (see: Devil May Cry), but as much as I think the writing in that series is hokey as fuck, at least the writer(s) for DMCs 4 and 5 had enough sense to make the love story simple and based it from a line from Amagasaki City-- “I love you, so I love the city that you love.”-- and opted against portraying Credo as an outright villain because if Nero killed him, Kyrie would resent him for it even though she knew Credo was working for the same Order that threatened her life.

Shouldn’t Noctis care about the shit Luna cares about even if he has no personal investment in it or it’s inconvenient to him? Shouldn’t he care about Tenebrae and its prosperity? or about Ravus? Nah, it’s okay, Noctis doesn’t have to respect Luna’s love for her brother or her kingdom because for all intents and purposes, she doesn’t care for Ravus or for Tenebrae as much as she loves Noctis. Her love for Noctis and her looking forward to the wedding is what matters here.

The yaaaas queen vicious clapback from Kingsglaive!Luna about how Ravus is the Empire’s dog is especially rich coming from her when she’s fellating the gods all through the game even though Eos’s equivalent of The Holy Bible says the Hexatheon’s Revelations destroy cities and that undoubtedly means people are killed by the gods, and their summoner is complicit, because there’s no such thing as a perfect evacuation. See: "Revelations left great devastation in their wake, with entire cities being laid to ruin," noted in the Cosmogony long before the True King even exists.

Luna herself didn’t see a problem with this and helped in the effort, with no regard to the collateral damage she would cause with the summoning: bonus points for the part where Leviathan is hostile to humanity and threatens to eat every living being if Noctis fails! She had even less regard to the damage Niflheim would cause in their attempt to kill the gods even though she was first-hand witness to them sacking Insomnia. Waking and defeating Titan deprived Lestallum of the meteor they derived power from. Waking Leviathan destroyed Altissia. Luna’s refusal to leave Insomnia when told to by Regis led to her being used as bait and taking the whole of the Kingsglaive out of Insomnia in time for their Face Heel Turn and Insomnia being destroyed. Everything else leads to the eventual World of Ruin where people also die.

All because she killed herself prematurely from the covenants and didn’t hold back the longer nights as she promised to the public’s face and on her honor as Oracle she would do. Her dying words in Chapter 9 were her being completely satisfied with her fate because “[her] prayers were answered, [her] calling fulfilled”, even though the calling requires that she dies and she should’ve known better than anyone that her death, even if it was for Noctis’s ascension, would endanger the rest of the world for 10 years and helped the Starscourge spread. But instead of fighting for her own life to stem the plague for as long as possible, she let herself die under the belief that "Noct can handle this" to give him the chance to be the revered King of Light. She also didn’t make a single appearance on the world of the living in her spirit form during those ten years until Noctis needed help with a piddly imitation of the Magic Wall, only then does she come down in her ghost form with seemingly all of her power intact, and summons five of The Six as if Noctis can’t easily do it himself.

But Ravus is the lapdog? Luna’s the one with her “ends justify the means” behavior and what looks like general neglect for actual human beings.

Anyway, Ravus stabs Caligo in the back and kills him, and that move only makes sense in light of the idea that Caligo was manhandling Luna as seen in the Dawn trailer. Ravus was 16 when Tenebrae was overrun, and there’s no reason to believe he was magically immune to institutional abuse, so there’s a high chance that he was abused by the Empire too, held resentment of that, and waited for the time he’d be able to retaliate with no repercussions. Gentiana as a goddess is 1000000% more on the hook about letting Luna be beaten than Ravus is, since he saw his mother die in front of him while Regis ran away. Regis had the power of the Ring and could have used elemancy to put out that fire, or void magic to banish Glauca and his MT army, didn’t do that, but he totally spares enough magic during the treaty signing to toss around Thunder spells straight from his hand, cast barriers, and summon some Royal Arms straight at Iedolas, and that’s bad enough. Gentiana who’s been the Fleuret family attendant since Luna was born and also is Shiva who can freeze people with her fingertip had even less excuse to let that fire rage, to let Sylva die protecting her son, and to stand by and allow her ward(s) to get thrown around by some random Imperial soldier.

#freezedive #ffxv critical #ffxv criticism #lunafreya critical #gentiana critical #regis critical #lunafreya nox fleuret #ravus nox fleuret #regis lucis caelum #ravus deserved better #long read

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abluescarfonwaston · 4 years ago

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Did someone ask for a quick and angsty immortal jaskier prompt? "It was supposed to be the music," he whispered, voice breaking. Heart breaking. "The songs. I wanted my songs to be remembered forever. I never wanted this."

Why would you do this to me anon. i’m already crying over the fact dandelion outlives everyone he loves. Major Character Death Warning. Obviously. Literally everyone dies. Uuuh also this kinda turns into Lambert/Jaskier at the end but like. They’re both Centuries old so nothing Happens.

When the wasting sickness swept through Lettenhove it killed his Mother and his Father and his Sisters and left him untouched.

He was ten and the world was over. Except he kept waking up in the morning.

At thirteen a girl at Oxenfurt, Essi Daven, played her Lute in the commons and sang and had the most beautiful cornflower blue eyes. And for the first time in years he sang a duet with her and suddenly he was a bard and he had a little sister again.

Maybe the world hadn’t ended. Maybe it finally restart.

At seventeen he met a man with white hair and seemly as many scars on his body as his heart and fell in love. Because Bards fell in love easily and he was impossibly easy to love.

The witcher plead for his life. Plead for them to let the bard go.

“No. Both of us or neither.” He was done outliving those he loved. At seventeen he was already done with that. “You kill him and let me go and i’ll destroy your mountain. Kill every last one of you in revenge.”

He’d leave behind a song. The one he’d written as a child and had swept the town more devastating than even the scarlet fever had been. It would live on past him. He would be remembered. The people he loved would be too. Toss a coin to your Witcher. The people he loved immortalized in song.

It wasn’t supposed to make him immortal.

“Give it a rest Jaskier.” Danity snapped. “It’s not you that has to be afraid of anything. No one ever touches a troubadour. For unfathomable reasons you’re inviolable.”

He’d still feared then. Chappelle could have had him killed. He was pretty sure he could die. Mostly he feared the pain. Or dying alone.

“When an old woman gets tired of life she walks into the woods without a weapon. The results are guaranteed.” He’d told Geralt when he’d moaned about how the world was changing and -more importantly- that he had no work.

Remember how I don’t even carry a knife when I follow you out on an adventure? No weapons at all. Ever. Just me and my lute.

He’d brushed death. A thousand times he’d almost met her. He followed Geralt- who was prophesied to always have death follow after him. You’d think at some point they’d meet.

Essi and Geralt fell in love on the coast. He wrote a ballad for them. About how their love was so powerful not even death could come between them.

He never played it. Not to anyone. He didn’t think it was actually about Essi and Geralt.

When rash appeared on Essi’s face in Vizima during the quarantine his hands shook.

“Not her.” He’d screamed at the gods. They didn’t exist of course. If they had then they’d abandoned them all long ago. “Not her.”

“Jaskier?” She shivered violently. “I don’t want to be burned.”

“You won’t be. You’re going to be fine.” He promised. Clutching her hand. “Promise Poppet. You’re going to be fine.”

The cremation fires blazed outside.

“I want to be buried in the woods. With my lute and-” She hurled mostly into the bucket. “My necklace. Please Jaskier.”

“Course Poppet. When you’re old and grey I will bury you out in the forest.”

“Thank you.” She clutched the little pearl. “For giving me him. I love him.”

“I never saw him happier than when he was with you Poppet.”

“What about when he was with you?”

“Oh come now.” He shifted her in his arms and moved the bucket a little further away. “You know me. I’m insufferable.”

“I love you Jaskier.” She cried as she shivered with less and less energy.

“I love you too Poppet.”

He carried her from the city. Into the forest. Her heart stopped beating before they arrived. He dug her grave and buried her with her lute and her pearl necklace.

With the pearl he’d given to her as a birthday gift. From him and Geralt.

When Regis passed it felt absurd. Humans weren’t supposed to outlive goddamn vampires in their fifth fucking century.

And then there was Geralt. Died in Yennefer’s arms along with her.

“It was supposed to be me.” He told no one as Ciri led their bodies out to the lake. “I was supposed to die with him.” Love so great not even death can part us.

But the story was never really about him was it?

Nenneke had a garden full of plants that grew under a crystal skylight. They didn’t grow anywhere else in the world anymore.

He’d asked Geralt about it. She’d said something about the sun and how it was changing. Apparently Geralt had asked why they all didn’t live under crystal skylights then, if it was so deadly.

“It’s already too late for us.” She’d said.

She talked liked the world was ending but the world ended all the time. And he still woke up in the morning.

Zoltan’s beard turned grey. He supposed he should have been thankful that Zoltan got to turn grey. It was better than most of the people he’d loved.

“How’s your fucking hair still Gold. You’re supposed to be getting old too!”

“I dye it.” He lied with a roll of the eyes. He’d stopped dying it years ago.

That winter he buried Zoltan too.

Golden eyes stared at him in confusion. “You look just like.” He started. His thin hair was grey. His wolf medallion gleamed in the sunlight that streaked into the bar.

“You’re one of the last Witchers i think.” He told him as the waves crashed outside. “Might even be the last.”

“Fucking hope so.” He sat down across from him and stole his beer. “Shitty job and a shitty life.” He squinted at him- which Jaskier knew was entirely unnecessary. He just forgotten to adjust his eyes. “What’s your name bard?”

“Dandelion.” He answered. It had been for the last century. “Yours?”

“Lambert.” He downed the drink. “You really think i’m the last? That worth a song? One of my brothers had a lot of songs.”

“Yes I suppose he did.” He waved for another drink. “And look what it got him.”

“Died surrounded by people who loved him.”

“Are you sure you know what a pogrom is?”

That got him a sharp toothy grin.

“I could write you a song but-” He was tired of burying people he loved.

“But?”

“I’m cursed you see.” It was definitely a curse these days. “I’ll live until the last of my songs is forgotten. I really don’t need anymore material.”

Lambert leaned forward curiously. “Doesn’t sound like a curse.”

“You don’t think it sounds like a curse?” He sneered. Lambert’s face faltered. “To outlive everyone you love?”

Lambert paused. Thinking. “Write me a song then. Play it just for me. So if my song’s the last we’ll go together.”

“And what’s my payment for this song?”

“Company.” Lambert’s grey eyes glittered. “You look like you need it.”

“Not as much as you. I bet you talk to your horse.”

“Well i know you do pretty boy. Heard you in the stable.”

He leaned back on the bench. “So what’s a Witcher do in a world without monsters?”

He shrugged. “Fish mostly.”

“I can do that. Once almost snagged a catfish the size of you. Got a djinn instead. Very bad deal honestly.”

“You expect me to believe that? I know about Bards and Ballads and how you’re all rotten liars.”

“Don’t forget about fisherman and their tales.”

The boat leaked worse than an old drunkard but it was small enough and the lake calm enough that it didn’t make him sick.

“I could just kill you. Curse probably can’t fix decapitation.” Lambert offered with his stick in the water. He claimed were bombs they could use instead if they got desperate. Or bored.

He smiled and shook his head. “Give it a try.”

Lambert raised an eyebrow but pulled a silver blade from it’s sheath.

His pole reeled and the boat tilted to the side, plunging him and the sword into the water.

He laughed as the attempted to drag the monstrous fish to the boat. Lambert cursed and climbed in. Yanking at the rod until the line snapped and they fell back into the boat in a painful pile. Laughing.

He didn’t remember the last time he’d laughed.

“Sing me a song bard.” Lambert would request from under his floppy sun brimmed hat. “No else up here but me.”

“There’s an entire stone keep on the hill.”

“No ones lived there in centuries. No one can hear you up here but me.”

He frowned at the ruins on the hill. Lambert kicked him.

He grinned and for the first time in decades - sang.

Maybe. Maybe the world hadn’t ended. Maybe it had finally restart.

“What was this place called?” He asked as they wandered through the crumbled ruin, covered in moss and ivy.

“Kaer Morhen.” He said like the words hurt him.

They hurt him too. He laughed.

He laughed some more.

He couldn’t stop laughing until Lambert smacked him hard enough to see stars.

“I never got to come here. Geralt.” He caught the flinch but moved past it. “Never trusted me enough to even let me know which country it was in.”

“So you were his bard.”

He nodded as Lambert kicked a stone apart. “He was right not to tell me of course. But.” It still hurt that his best friend hadn’t trusted him with his home. He’d taken Yennefer here. But not him. Never him.

He didn’t deserve Geralt’s trust. A thief, a liar, a spy, a bard. It still hurt.

“Well a wolf finally took you here. Is it everything you fucking dreamed?”

He took it in. “Nah. It’s rubbish.”

Lambert smirked. “Yeah. At least that hasn’t changed.”

“You’re hairs getting grey bard.”

“What?” He nearly leaped into the water in his haste to look.

Grey strands streaked his beard.

“Thank you.” He cried. “Thank you.”

“Still owe me that song Dandy.”

He wrote Lambert a lot of songs. Performed for an audience of one.

“Are you really okay with the fact no one will ever hear them? I mean what’s the point in being immortalized in song if-”

“Yeah. Didn’t give a shit about the songs.”

“Hey!” He protested. Kicking him where he lounged in front of the fire. “They’re good songs!”

He grunted in fake pain. Wiggled out of range. “Did Geralt ever tell you why he liked having you around?”

“My charming personality I assume.”

Lambert snorted.

He sat down on the floor and poke him. “Don’t fall asleep. Tell me why you think he did.”

“No one tells Witchers bedtime stories.”

“Oh.” Lambert was halfway to sleep already. “Would you like one?”

“Yeah.”

“What you think happens after?” They were huddled together. Old and grey as a storm raged outside. “We die.”

“I gave up on gods when i was a child.”

“So did i.”

“Then.” He paused. Listened to the howl. “Whatever’s next at least neither of us is going alone.”

Lambert squeezed his bony hand. “What’s the chance we see them again?”

“Hm.” He pretended to consider. “Well we’re definitely going to hell so-”

“Like anyone we gave a shit about wouldn’t be.”

“Point.”

He closed his golden eyes. “Hey Dandy.”

“Yeah?”

“Sing me out.”

“It’d be my pleasure.”

And quite singing filled the drafty cabin until the song stopped.

The world ended.

And at long last no one woke up in the morning.

#geraskier #Jaskier x Lambert #Immortal Jaskier #jaskier #Essi Daven #canon deaths #play me out Dandelion #Let's go together #also Anon I specifically Requested NO IMMORTAL JASKIER CAUSE IT NOW BREAKS MY HEART #damnit #hope this breaks your heart you bastard #thanks for the prompt #someone send me fluff #writing

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mevekagvain · 3 years ago

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Chapter 181 - Kei's slow "yes" at being told to take care of Seira... iwi

- Ludis is so proactive,,, son boy

- Rael and Urokai should make a club for "why do people go along with what we say when our expressions make it clear we're up to no good"

- Extremely funny how they imprison Seira and Gejutel solely on a "we know you can break out but you better not" basis. Like okay that's a lot of trust you're putting into apparent traitors Raskreia. I know you're hoping they'll confess last minute so you don't have to execute them and are testing them but still.

Chapter 182 - Rozaria about Rael "That child truly thinks he can take over the Loyard clan with how he runs to you immediately? At most he'd be a malewife smh"

- Rozaria knew how dumb Karias is and also that he'd definitely take pity on Seira and came in his place. But also ofc to leave the sausage fest. Meanwhile Ludis suffers wondering why he's friends with the major dumbass. Why did Karias unbutton his coat, take off his blouse, and reveal his chest during this whole time though? Don't know whether I empathise with him because I wish I could do that or with Ludis because god he's so stupid.

- The "and your figure" remark always makes me cringe so hard like how do you make it any more obvious it was written by a man. This is why I just pretend the remark is actually just Rozaria being a major lesbian.

- The noblesse' territory has some giant fucking trees love it. Also Tao mirroring Aris' habit mayhaps. Would love to go on a tangent about it but I'll shorten it to just saying that I love it.

- Still massively impressive that Tao can differentiate between hundreds of signals/noises in real time immediately. Much more so than anything to do with actually fighting tbh.

Chapter 184 - Kei just going "did the previous lord have a secret child???" is so funny and also yeah very believable but also simultaneously unbelievable. Really hinges on the parentage of said secret child and just how dangerous it would be if they were known to exist since there's no way he wouldn't adore any of his children.

- Ah I completely forgot that Raskreia was aware in the manhwa that her father wanted Raizel to be lord. Thought that was anime only. Not that it changes anything.

- They always make the traitors and betrayal to be some great big thing but considering that the current clan leaders don't know jack shit, not even that the traitors were apparently led by someone according to said traitors... I still think the traitors went into the throne room, told her they think she's not a suitable lord and would be leaving Lukedonia, and peaced out quietly. Her kicking entire clans out was just her being a horrible lord tm.

- When the lord telepathically orders you to restrain and bring her your fellow clan leader... just girly things <3 also more of Rozaria flirting lmao. "that side of you is very attractive" like okay am I supposed to take that as a normal compliment.

- Sorry just gonna go cry over how much I love Blood Witch actually being able to close its eye and blink and and and iwi. It's just so cute.

- Okay so apparently the castle is more sturdy than a normal one which is why Rozaria hasn't destroyed it immediately while dealing with Seira. So Raskreia is knowingly destroying the castle 😔 chill queen

- Karias just going "Yeah no I'll deal with Regis because you'd just kill him" to Rajak. Rael should have plotted to set up that as a fight instead if he wants Regis dead so bad.

Chapter 185 - I do like the whole roadtrip thing nobles have being canonically of several years minimum but also wow that's so fucked up lmao. Imagine just sending your 17 year old out into the world with no resources or support for a year where they have to actively travel the world, fight against evil, etc. This isn't even Pokemon. Meanwhile I have Mevek who makes it worse by going on the roadtrip for 210 years ajjsjsjs.

- Just the fact that Karias is very obviously one of the most soft hearted of the current gen with how he lets Regis have a chance to escape despite knowing he'll suffer greatly for his actions... A lot of people seem to think it's Ludis because of the whole teaparty scene but he just isn't as much of a fighter as the rest despite how skilled he obviously is so they go instead of him. Meanwhile Rozaria actively prevents him and goes in his place because she's likely aware of his soft hearted nature.

- Oh Karias has a vest on now. I wonder if Ludis forced him to wear that.

Chapter 188 - Aaaand Seira and Rozaria have demolished that section of the castle.

#noblesse #raining while reading

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xmxisxforxmaybe · 5 years ago

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The sharing bed prompts I loveee that shit. What about “person A hogs all the covers and person B’s solution is to spoon them” and “does that feel good” with Rami as person B?

All right—I took some liberties with this prompt, and while it isn’t smut, it is fluffy and fun. Perhaps there needs to be a Part II, but for now, here you go : )

Y/N is the press tour director for Bohemian Rhapsody, so essentially, she is in charge of the boys. This is totally AU-ish, and this is also the first time I’ve written Joe and Gwil. Forgive me if it’s bad.

* * * * *

Having been on the road with the boys for several weeks, I knew it was never anything that was going to make my life easier when they started being exhaustingly charming to me and only me.

“Cut the shit, boys. What do you want?”

Rami grinned, but I shook my head, “Nope—don’t try that either. What do you want?”

Rami’s smile faltered, and he sighed. He licked his lips, tucking his bottom one between his teeth, and I turned away, refusing to let any of his ticks affect me now.

Everyone on the tour could see the way we looked at each other, but I had a job to do. Rami was an actor, and this press tour was only going to be one small part of his life. But for me, this press tour’s success could send my name right to the top of the PR list, ensuring I’d never have to work three jobs to make ends meet again.

And no one, no one knew that.

This was Hollywood; people weren’t interested in the rags to riches story anymore. All that mattered was what your life looked like, so I made sure to consistently project a strong, confident woman with nothing to lose.

Except that right now, it sounded like I was going to be forced to make a very difficult decision: to keep up appearances by giving over to the boys’ demands, or to buckle, revealing how much the success of this tour really meant for me.

Joe stepped forward and popped onto the edge of the desk in my hotel room, crossing his legs and changing his voice to a high, nasally pitch.

“Well, ya see Mista Sheffield,” Joe said in his best Fran Fine impression, “as the nanny, it’s clear ya been makin’ these kids work way too hard. If they don’t get a break, it could be very bad for their health—and yours,” he added with a wink.

Sighing, I pushed back from my desk and looked at Joe, who re-crossed his legs and batted his eyes.

“I’ll consider your offer if you put on one of Nanny Fine’s skirts, Mazzello.”

“Uh, did you not see the pictures of us in drag? Only Rami’s got the stems to pull that look off.”

I flicked my eyes over to Rami and he smiled, although it was a shyer smile than usual. However, I didn’t look back at Joe. Rami was almost always the leader of their schemes, so I asked, for the third time, what exactly they wanted.

“Since our stop in the next city has been delayed, we thought we could have some time to . . . explore Italy.”

“And?”

“We want to rent a car—”

You started shaking your head no, but Rami pressed on.

“We want to rent a car and drive. We have plenty of time to get there—”

“And if something goes wrong? My god Rami—we are talking about an extra 48 hours, not a week!”

“Nothing will go wrong. You have my word.”

“Those are the most famous last words in every movie, television show, and novel produced in the last century!” I said, my voice rising as I stood up from the desk chair.

“We’ve already mapped it out and it only takes twelve hours longer than the train you have scheduled,” Rami spoke in a rush, moving to stand in front of me and to grasp my upper arms. “We have our cell phones. And . . .”

“And?” I prompted.

“And you’ll be with us,” Rami finished, his voice low and soothing as his eyes burned into mine.

I had to close my eyes to escape his spell because what he was saying was actually not as unreasonable of a request as I had been sure it was going to be. Backing away from Rami’s grip, I sat down on my bed with a plop.

“What does Gwil say?”

“It was his idea.”

“Oy vey,” I said, flopping back onto the bed.

The bed bounced as Joe landed beside me, perfectly propped up on his elbow.

“Soooo maaaa, what do ya say?”

“If—oof,” I said bouncing as Rami landed on my other side.

“If Joseph Mazzello agrees to never impersonate The Nanny again, we can take the car.”

The boys laugh and plant twin kisses on my cheeks and I give them both a hard shove away from me.

“But if anything, ANYTHING happens, I am holding you, Rami Malek, personally responsible,” I said as I stood up and glowered down at him.

“Ooo, Ram, man. That means she’s docking your pay.”

“Don’t care, Joey!” Rami cried as he exaggeratedly sniffed the air. “Can you smell that?”

“What . . . should I be smelling . . .”

“It’s the smell of FREEDOM!” Rami roared as he thumped Joe on the chest, hard enough to make him groan, then start giggling.

A small wrestling match ensued before I yelled at them to get out before they broke my bed.

“Go tell Gwil the good news,” I begged, making them freeze as Rami’s head poked out from under Joe’s stomach after Joe had pinned him with his entire torso.

They scrambled off the bed, each of them fixing their hair as they hurried out of the room to tell Gwilym the good news.

I sat down on my disheveled bedding and bowed my head, praying to whatever god that would listen for this minor detour to happen without a hitch.

The boys, as high-energy as they could be, had been giving their all at every event and had been working ungodly hours. If I could do this for them, they deserved to enjoy it.

* * * * *

God.

The master of the universe.

The almighty creator.

The powers that be.

The flying spaghetti monster.

It didn’t matter what the higher power I prayed to went by, whoever or whatever it was, hated me.

No.

It loathed me, and I became convinced that it got off on circumventing any possible happiness I could have in my life.

I fought back tears as I followed the boys through the sopping cow field, at least I assumed that’s what it was because it was nearly 2 in the morning and the only lights we had were our dying cellphones (which had no service, of course) and one tiny flashlight that had been jammed between the seat in the back of our too-small rental car.

It certainly smells like a cow field, I thought as my foot landed in something that felt suspiciously more squishy than sopping grass.

We were all damned lucky that we hadn’t had anything other than our pride hurt when a whopping pile of mud from the endless rain slid across the road pushing our car over an embankment and into a field. The car had refused to start, and we waited for over two hours for another vehicle to pass.

It was getting cold, so I finally said, “We can’t wait here all night.”

The boys all looked out the window and into the pouring rain.

“Look at the sign,” Gwil said pointing at something that was on the other side of the immense field. “Looks like a vacancy banner.”

“Like the boss said, we can’t wait here all night. It’s not like a cellphone tower is going to sprout up from all the rain,” Joe said.

“Pop the trunk,” I said, moving to open the door and step out into the rain.

Rami grabbed my arm and spoke in a voice that was heartbreakingly earnest.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.”

“I know,” I said, shaking him off and opening the door.

Luckily, we had all packed light and our bags were easy to carry. Rami tried to take mine and I refused; the last thing I wanted to feel at this moment was like a damsel in distress.

The walk took well over an hour, but it was exactly as Gwil said: a vacancy sign, except that none of us could have predicted that it was a place that made the Bates Motel look like a St. Regis.

We paused despite the pouring rain and looked at each other.

Joe nudged Rami, who faltered, but then took the lead and opened the ratchety front door, a chunk of sopping old paint glopping down on his shoe as he stepped through the doorframe.

We all shuffled in behind him, and it was clear the lobby was not meant for gatherings of people. Gwil and I stood elbow to elbow, a dusty shelf of outdated brochures brushing against my arm.

Rami angled himself forward and rang the rusty bell.

It made a pitiful ding that matched its home.

Rami’s hair was plastered to his head and falling into his eyes. While we waited, he slicked it back and I noticed it was almost long enough to tuck behind his ears when it was wet.

Meanwhile, Joe hadn’t missed the way I watched Rami, even in this dire circumstance. He was one of the many who knew how we felt about each other and he also knew that had been a strong part of the reason for this trip. Rami had confessed to him that he believed if he could get me to forget about the bustle of the tour, even for a day or two, he’d have a shot at figuring out if I was interested in him.

Joe’s insistence that I was just wasn’t enough. Rami wanted to be sure before he made a move, especially if it could mean turning the great dynamic we had established between all of us into something forced and uncomfortable.

“Hit it again,” Gwil said, his normally patient self becoming agitated. He hated to be dirty, and I knew he was thinking about a hot shower.

Hell, I knew we were all thinking about a hot shower.

Rami reached for the bell again, but before he could press it, a very old man shuffled out to the desk, his hoary head not more than a foot taller than the desk itself. He was wrapped up tight in a robe and there were slippers on his feet.

He began speaking in Italian and the dialect was so strong that we all looked at each other in utter confusion.

“English?” Rami asked in a desperate plea.

The old man cocked his head, little wisps of white hair billowing with his movement.

“I’m guessing that’s a no,” Gwil muttered, his voice tired.

“Rami—”

He turned around and looked at me.

“The key hooks on the wall.”

Rami nodded, his mouth puckering as he thought.

“We need rooms for the night,” Rami said, pointing to the keys on the wall. “Uh, camera, per favore.”

The man nodded, “Si, si,” and took two keys off the wall.

He began speaking once more, but Rami pointed to the last key hanging on the wall, trying to get another room in case one of the rooms was too small for all three of the boys to share.

“No, no,” the man said waving the two keys from the wall in front of Rami’s face and speaking some more.

It was clear we were getting the last two rooms the man had.

“La moneta!” he barked when Rami held his hand out for the keys, and we all reached into our bags for whatever we had in Italian currency.

The old man gave us a total and Joe counted it out. After the man recounted the money, he handed the keys to Rami and pointed toward the darkest section of the motel.

Again, we all cast a glance at each other, but once we were back outside in the pouring rain, Rami took the lead and walked off toward the dark rooms.

He tried one key, then the other and reached blindly along the wall for a light switch after the door had creaked open. A single lamp flicked on, and we were greeted by the smallest room I had ever seen. There was an ancient television propped up on a stand, one chair, and one bed that looked to be no bigger than an extra-large twin.

Rami glanced at me, then hurried to the next door, shaking the key furiously in the lock to get the door to open.

It was the same room, right down to the extra-large twin bed.

Rami looked at Joe and Gwil and said, “I don’t suppose the three of us could—”

“Oh for pete’s sake, Rami. Come on,” you said tugging his jacket’s sleeve and hauling him back into the other room.

Joe and Gwil exchanged a look, and despite their exhaustion, smiles crept across their faces.

As soon as the door shut behind him, Rami turned around and locked the chain.

With a sigh, he started to apologize again, but I cut him off.

“Rami—no one could have predicted this would happen. I’m sure we will laugh about this . . . if we don’t get axe murdered in the night.”

“Did you ever see that episode of the Twilight Zone where—”

“Don’t you dare! Don’t you dare plant some freaky image in my mind before we have to try to fall asleep.”

Rami gave me a small smile before he finally dropped his soaked bag on to the floor.

“We may have to wring out all our clothes,” he said frowning with disgust at his wet luggage.

“First, I’m taking the hottest shower in history,” I said, marching into the bathroom, then proceeding to scream as I collided face to chest with a mostly naked Gwilym.

Rami and Joe both burst in from their doors, and then they started laughing.

“Your faces,” Joe squeaked out.

Gwil and I looked at each other and broke, laughing until we cried at the absurdity of the entire situation.

Ever the gentleman, Gwil offered the bath, and yes, it was an old clawfoot bathtub, not a shower, first.

“No—you go for it,” I said patting his shoulder and following a still chuckling Rami out of the door who was swiping at the tears that had leaked down his cheeks during his laughing fit.

I collapsed onto the uncomfortable, putrid yellow chair, a puff of laughter escaping in intermittent bursts as I remembered the feeling of my nose colliding with Gwil’s chest.

“Damnit,” I growled, leaning back in the chair.

“What is it?” Rami asked from the seat he had taken across from me on the edge of the bed.

“My shoe strings are so wet I can’t untie them and my shoes are too tight to kick off.”

“Let me try,” he said, moving to kneel in front of my shoe. “Wow—okay. That’s definitely cowshit.”

Laughter burbled up from my throat again as I stared at Rami’s fingers working my shit-covered laces, and he looked up at me, his nose crinkled, his hair a mess, and I laughed harder until he joined in.

“When you win an Oscar for Freddie, I’m going to remember this moment,” I said, smiling down at him as he freed my right foot.

“Shut up,” Rami said with a smile. “Never gonna happen.”

“Why are you so afraid to let yourself want it?”

“For the same reason you’re so afraid this tour will be a disaster,” Rami finished with a grunt as he freed my left foot and sat back on his butt, getting ready to work his own tennis shoes off.

“What?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

Rami wiped his fingers on the shins of his soaked pants and looked up.

“You’re not the only one who came from almost nothing, Y/N. We recognize our own kind in this world.”

“But—”

“My parents worked really hard to make sure we had opportunities, but that was about all we had.”

“I didn’t know.”

Rami and I looked at each other, and for the first time I realized what we had in common: an insatiable hunger, a need to prove ourselves.

I know it seems like it only happens in the movies, but as soon as I made that realization, it was like a jolt of electricity went through my body. I had never wanted to kiss someone more than I did in that moment, and just as I was about to drop to the floor and close the distance, Gwil knocked from inside the bathroom.

“Your turn, Y/N!” he called.

I shook my head and stood up, hurrying into the bathroom.

By the time we had all rotated through, Joe going last and informing us with a loud, “Yikes!” that the hot water was all gone, I was exhausted and settled under the minimal covers on the bed.

Rami had been sitting in the yellow chair for the past half an hour, trying to get his cellphone to work.

“We’ll use the phone at the front desk in the morning,” I mumbled sleepily. “Let’s get some rest before the rooster crows. Cuz I guarantee there’s one roaming around out there unless the axe murderer was in the mood for chicken.”

Rami’s laughter was soft as he rose up from the chair and walked over to the light switch.

“Should we leave it on?”

“Try it.”

Rami flicked the switch and the room was plunged into darkness, but after a few moments, it was clear that the light from the vacancy sign was going to shine right through the damn-near sheer curtain covering the window.

“I think we’re okay—you locked the door, right?”

Rami fumbled along the door and double checked.

“Yup.”

I listened as he made his way back to the bed and he shuffled some sort of item of clothing off. When his cold feet accidentally connected with mine, I knew it was his socks.

“Sorry,” he muttered. “Can’t stand to sleep with socks on.”

“Me either,” I said to the wall I was facing.

Rami moved around in the bed, attempting to get comfortable and to keep an appropriate distance between our bodies, but when I moved, he gasped as all the covers moved with me.

“Sorry,” I groaned.

“I think this bed is clearly meant for one person.”

“Or two people as tiny as that old man.”

Rami chuckled, and then he sighed.

“There’s a solution . . . if you’re okay with it.”

“Lay it on me, Ram.”

Rami said nothing, but he rolled onto his side and pressed his body into my back. He adjusted his arms, eventually resting his left hand in the dip at my waist.

“At least I’m getting warmer now,” I said sleepily.

Rami took that as an invitation and snuggled in deeper, sliding his arm all the way over my waist so he could spoon me.

“I really am sorry for all of this,” Rami whispered into the back of my neck.

“I’m not,” I said, reaching for his hand and pulling it up between my breasts so I could clutch it to my chest.

Rami hummed contentedly, and we both drifted off to sleep.

#Rami Malek #Rami Malek x Reader #guest starring #Joe Mazzello #gwilym lee #fluff #bed sharing #bed sharing prompt #BoRhap fic #BoRhap

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gayregis · 5 years ago

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which characters are trans this is a scientific inquiry

all of them except vilgefortz and leo bonhart

ok ok jokes, ill go more in depth... some of this is taken from things ive written before but not posted. also for anyone reading this im non bee nary so know that im not trying to describe the experiences of different identities in first-person, i’m basing this off of both my own and my friends’ experiences... none of this is “OMG YES CHARACTER ANGST >:))” but rather depicting personal struggles in fictional characters, so just know that the more difficult subjects that may be covered are not there just to see the character in pain, but rather to think about their eventual resilience against it and development afterwards

for geralt and yennefer i have more specific reasons why i think being transgender actually fits with their canonical characters & related story arcs, and then for the rest i have headcanons and maybe some reasoning but not a lot.

geralt: geralt already represents how a struggle with toxic masculinity and expectations of masculinity can influence one who wants to be seen as masculine to deny and bury their emotions. him being trans develops upon the aspect of his struggle with emotions, ive seen my friends who are transmasculine / myself when i used to ID as transmasculine struggle with showing emotions bc of feeling like you’re going to be misgendered if you shed a single tear. in canon, we already learn that kaer morhen has a bit of a macho culture (just fyi eskel and lambert and coen are trans too now, don’t go getting any idea that those guys are cis) and i believe that the “witchers have no emotions” thing is like 5% actual biology and 95% being raised to fight and not to feel. vesemir is a good father but he just wasn’t very emotionally nurturing, it’s the caste’s way of raising kids that geralt breaks out of.

i think geralt’s self-image also speaks a lot to the feelings of harsh internal transphobia. he constantly others himself from others and feels like people view him as different, which is metaphorical for any marginalized group under the sun, but also is very common for lgbt ppl. again this is smth ive really struggled with within the past few years so im just projecting/know what it feels like and feel that how geralt sees himself in canon is similar to a view suffering from internalized transphobia.

geralt's character already redefines manhood because he has to learn what it means to be a good father. and i think him being trans would be representative of his constant learning and growth as a person, yet also somewhat involved with his self loathing and feeling like just Him Existing is an affront ... but of course he unlearns this with time and love from others and all of his character development

yennefer: yennefer’s whole backstory revolves around defining who she is and defying the people who mistreated her and told her she was nothing. canonically yennefer of vengerberg is the story of the successful self-made woman... her life as janka she would rather forget, no one calls her by that name, and no one ever would because its not who she is nor who i think she ever was.

shes incredibly strong-willed and knows what she wanted from life but some things are terrifying to reach out for, like love and acceptance. yennefer has a conflict with love and being loved because that was never a safe topic for her ... (also sapkowski handled this specifically poorly imo, but:) yennefer canonically struggles with being loved for who she is. i think she deals so much with her previous abuse and again, expectations from parents, and coming to terms with the fact that she survived it all. also this isnt even touching upon her arc regarding motherhood. wanting to give a child your everything and everything that you never had... the love and kindness that no one gave you...

ciri: ciri hesitated to ever identify with “girl” or “boy,” she’s also i think the representation of childhood in general, she’s naturally curious about gender presentation as she ages and just never really cares to commit to gender. i think she’d say she was a girl but only reluctantly bc she just doesn’t care much.

dandelion: [from his TV Tropes page:]

he’s an artist and a musician, he’s not gonna be cishet...

ok in a more serious context i think he’s a nonbinary guy, i think him being trans might explain why he has way more friendships than relationships with family members. dandelion, like yennefer, is also someone that had to define who he was for himself, i mean for one his stage persona of dandelion is entirely an artist’s creation/hyperbole of himself, i think he also had to think abt his inner identity too

his gender is also just “your friend that comes to your house and eats all ur chips and drinks all ur beer and passes out on top of you on the couch”

milva: ok unfortunately i currently think milva is the token non-trans friend (she’s nonbinary just doesnt think of herself as trans) but it’s only because her major arc in baptism of fire revolves around her pregnancy and miscarriage and just bc she is not trans doesn’t mean she doesn’t go through her own difficult struggling process surrounding her womanhood. she struggles enormously throughout the series and in her backstory with defining herself between two rigid identities: the feminine maria and the cutthroat milva. in her talk with geralt, she reveals how she feels trapped between these two identities and feels like they cannot coexist. i feel like she’s a nonbinary/gender non-conforming butch* lesbian whose struggles with sexuality intersect her struggles with gender and what it means to her to be a gnc woman. also you have to consider that milva was raised in a small village in lower sodden so she understood gender in the very strict roles ascribed to men and women, so she felt like she couldn’t be a woman unless she was this very traditional idea of what a woman is “supposed to be like,” which she’s both been trying to shape herself to be and also running away from simultaneously. she learns to accept herself within the hansa bc they love and support her for who she is, and she doesn’t need to be strictly feminine or masculine to be understood by them

* i know the terms nonbinary and gnc and butch didn’t exist in the 1260s tyvm, i’m just saying this as how i interpret her in a modern context

regis: gender is a human sociological construct so basically don’t ask him unless you’re prepared to listen for 20 minutes. vampires can exist noncorporeally so they can exist without gender, also i hc the telepathic vampiric language is nongendered as it’s a transmission of pure thought, will, and force, so it doesn’t even use any grammar. i also hc that vampires just appear the way they feel in terms of appearance and age (e.g., regis at around 300 when he died still looked 25 bc he was as stupid as a 25 year old, now he’s calmer and understands more, so he looks middle-aged). when chilling out with humans regis will be referred to as a man bc that’s just how he appears but it’s an identity he had to learn about and adopt, not something he was assigned. most vampires look androgynous anyways bc they just feel androgynous, how are you gonna feel a gender when you don’t know what a gender is... if you HAD to understand him with human labels / put it in a modern context (like if i was making an modern real life AU) i’d say he’s a nonbinary trans man.

cahir: much like geralt i think cahir’s story is one of living up to expectations, but cahir’s actually takes it a step further because his major motivation in his backstory is trying to prove to his mother that he can be a good son that will make her proud and gain honor for the family... he seeks validation from external sources but faces ruin when he learns that war is not the way to prove one’s prowess and skill

angouleme: shes trans and i simply say so bc shes very cool and funny and i dont think a cis person could be this cool and funny. also i think the story of a runaway teen who was abandoned by her biological family and found solace in a new family is both very good and featured in a lot of trans ppl’s narratives. she kind of exudes this “im finally at a point in my life where i’m safe and cared for, i can start HRT now, let’s gooOOoooOOooo” energy.

#ask #dandeliyn #the witcher #hansa

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secret-engima · 5 years ago

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Okay, but may I also point out that it's awfully convenient that Ardyn has hallucinations that push him into the 'right' direction to fulfill bahamut's prophecy when we've seen that Bahamut is very competent with illusions (Aera stabbing Ardyn, anyone?) And even more convenient that in that one hallucination of aera where she tells him to kill her (which, excuse me what) she tells him it's all because she defied the gods? Way to 'subtly' tell ardyn to do what the gods say or else 'aera'

Hmmmm hmmmmmmm okay. So ... yes you have a point, and I know that in Dawn of the Future the whole deal is Bahamut being the final boss but like-

I do NOT see it that way? Never have. I ... I get where they’re coming from and I’m sure they pulled it off awesomely, but I’ve never seen Bahamut has outright malicious or cruel or manipulative or the bad guy (until Square Enix tried to shove it in my face in a VERY hamfisted cutscene that also throws a huge plothole into the Kingsglaive thanks a lot Squeenix way to rip apart your own lore and timeline).

Lemme explain my POV (gonna stick it under Read More because oh boy is this long).

One- Ardyn is an unreliable narrator. Ardyn is THE unreliable narrator. He’s not only been chilling in total isolation for 2k years (which is seriously bad for human mental health) he’s infected with Starscourge, which is known to make its victims mindless and permanently screamingly furious at EVERYTHING. His memories are not reliable, his grip on REALITY is not reliable. He could STRAIGHT UP NOT BE HEARING what Bahamut is actually saying when they converse, or his mental state is twisting it to a malicious/cruel bent when it isn’t really and we would have no way to know for sure because we only ever see this particular scene from ARDYN’S POV.

On the hallucinations- I really, truly believe it’s the Starscourge doing that, even the Aera things, except MAYBE MAYBE the one where she stabs him, but you only get that ending after Ardyn basically tells Bahamut, the guy in charge of guarding the world, that he’s going to intentionally go BURN THE WORLD and imma get back to that in a minute on why I think it’s not even Aera doing the stabbing.

Anyway, on the Starscourge, which really is the lynchpin to the whole story- it is ... how do I put this. In the INTEREST of the Scourge to make sure it’s hosts are always angry, always crazy, always lashing out and infecting others. That’s how it WORKS. Daemons are mindlessly furious and hungry and infect any animal or human they come across. Now, for most, once the transformation is complete that’s it, memories are gone and hate is all that remains but not ALWAYS and not just Ardyn.

Going back to the Naga and her baby thing- it does not matter what you say to her, she IS going to attack you. She IS going to think you stole her baby and are lying if you say anything otherwise. It literally doesn’t matter what you say, it doesn’t matter that Prompto is not a baby and definitely not HER baby, or that Prompto is RIGHT THERE when she asks “where is my baby?”. She’s stuck in a loop of “baby-gone-baby-missing-find-my-baby-make-themPAYWHEREISMYBABY” basically. You can’t even know if she’s HEARING what you’re actually saying, or some twisted version that makes her think you’re lying. So she attacks, and attacking means a chance of infecting, which means spreading the Scourge and making it stronger. It is REALLY CONDUCIVE for the Scourge to have some kind of hallucinogenic effect that twists reality to being against you and being something deserving lashing out at and this would apply even more strongly to Bahamut and Bahamut’s magic (LC and Oracle) ie the one thing that can stop the spread of the Scourge. Not to imply sentience, cause I’m not really saying that, but any virus/organism/WHATEVER if it’s alive it’s going to try to multiply and the Scourge multiplies through infection via ATTACK.

And since it’s already in there, wrecking brain chemistry of the victim, wrecking it in a way that twists up what is being said or acted or even seen is 100% plausible.

This is strengthened by the fact that ARDYN CAN DO ILLUSIONS. I can’t recall atm if Bahamut EVER directly uses illusions, but Ardyn? We seem him use them multiple times. He uses them on that train to make us think we’re chasing him and not Prompto, then again to make us think we’re fighting alongside Prompto rather than Ardyn, again to make us SHOVE PROMPTO OFF A TRAIN and lastly to make us think a dead MT is actually an unconscious Prompto until we get close enough. Heck, even his Scourge-face thing is probably him just dropping an illusion of normalcy rather than any kind of transformation. We SEE the Scourge do crazy realistic, reality-warping illusions. It’s not LC magic because Regis and Noctis never use anything even close to similar and no historical LC is mentioned as an illusionist. But Ardyn? Ardyn is the only fully sentient Daemon ever, if anyone could take the Scourge’s natural inclination to create illusions to warp the perception of the infected and instead warp the perception of others it would be him.

So this means while ARDYN is hearing “this was always your fate, do this or suffer more torment” what Bahamut is actually saying could easily be more along the lines of an aloof, only vaguely apologetic “so this happened and I can’t fix it” (remember, the Crystal, Bahamut’s nexus of power, could not purify Ardyn even BEFORE he daemonified Ifrit, so of course Bahamut can’t help) “but if you wait, the Chosen King is coming soon and he’ll fix everything and give you peace and also get to avenge you by killing the Scourge through your death, so just wait until he comes to cure you and let you pass on to the afterlife”.

I really, really don’t think Bahamut’s plan involved creating an Accursed sacrificial lamb. It doesn’t make SENSE. The point was to kill the Scourge, even when Bahamut is the final boss in Dawn of the Future (from what I read on the wiki anyway) Bahamut is basically going “the Scourge can’t spread if everything is DEAD”. Why would he wait and manipulate events to make Ardyn Even More Of A Problem then the one he already has on hand when he could have just ... let Ardyn take out the Scourge in its early stages??? It is very, very likely Ardyn’s infection is TWISTING the intent of Bahamut’s words or even the words themselves to make Ardyn fight back against the one thing that could stop the Scourge from spreading.

As for the “Aera stabbing scene” again, Ardyn just said “I’mma burn the world” to Bahamut’s face, of course punishment is involved, but it is also very likely that it’s not AERA doing the punishing. Bahamut has never hesitated to come smite people in person before (see Bahamut vs Ifrit and Bahamut vs Ifrit round 2) so at worst it’s probably just like- one of Bahamut’s Messengers doing the punishment stabbing because Ardyn JUST MADE HIMSELF THE ENEMY. This isn’t a torture of a disobedient sacrificial lamb, it’s tactically weakening an enemy who just rejected your hand of sorta-alliance and also minutes ago tried to kill the Chosen King’s dad before your Chosen King could be born.

But Ardyn’s brain, which has already hallucinated Somnus taunting him in the place of freaking out Kingsglaives mind you, is putting Aera there because that’s what will make Ardyn the angriest, that’s what will make him lash out the most. The same goes for Aera telling Ardyn to kill her because she defied the gods, what better way to direct Ardyn’s fury at the one thing that could stop the Scourge than to BLAME THE DEATH OF ARDYN’S LOVER on them? And for either of these, Bahamut wouldn’t even know it’s happening or why it’s significant, because Bahamut doesn’t ... GET humans and that leads into my second point:

Why I think Bahamut isn’t actually a horrible, intentionally cruel dude:

Okay so- I do not condone a lot of the stuff Bahamut chooses, because hey I like Noctis and Ardyn too and yeah Bahamut’s plan sucks and could have been way better from our POV, but I genuinely do not see him as malicious or manipulative in this. Not like Dawn of the Future, Episode Ardyn, or some fanfic authors make him out to be (for all that’s a very valid position and can be excellently written) and here’s WHY.

Bahamut is not human. For all he can speak to humans and is humanoid in shape he IS NOT HUMAN. He does not think like a human, he does not perceive time like a human, his POV is entirely alien to humans. Ifrit and Shiva were the closest to humans because they intentionally tried to figure them out, but even THEY don’t get humans entirely, for all Ifrit used to love them and Shiva still does. Bahamut on the other hand, never had or took that chance. He’s the big picture guy, the head of the pantheon. He’s in charge of keeping the entire freaking planet from being killed somehow, which is why he stepped in and was the final one of the five to kill Ifrit the first time and not, say, our local cranky sea snek of pure rage.

Bahamut isn’t cruel, he just genuinely does not understand that his plan is messed up. Worse, at his core, he’s a Strategist without an emotional anchor or someone to keep him in moral check. It’s either Fanon or actual canon that he’s the Astral of War, and while War can be a lot of things, in mythology a “god of war” is usually one of two things: rage monster or STRATEGIST. The one in charge of making the hard choices. The one who looks at the battlefield and says “if I do nothing, all my men and the people I protect will die. If I move these two units in to attack the enemy flank, a lot of those men in those units will die BUT it will confuse the enemy into letting me defeat them with the main force, thereby saving the majority of my force and everyone I’m protecting”. Minimal losses for maximum gain. It’s not nice, it’s not pretty, maybe it isn’t even moral, but war is a lot of things and moral tends not to be one of them, so that kind of strategy is NECESSARY in certain moderation.

Now, the Astrals can’t fix the Scourge, likely because their war with Ifrit not only robbed them of a key member (recall that in most mythology fire is PURIFICATION) but also severely weakened them. They went to sleep for a reason, they were trying to recoup their lost power. But when it takes so long to recharge and the Scourge keeps getting worse in the meantime, it’s a war of attrition the Astrals could win, but humanity and the planet wouldn’t so another method is needed. Bahamut doesn’t know humans, and considering their role in Ifrit’s fall (aka the start of the whole Astrals Can’t Fix This issue) he has no reason to trust their teamwork or obedience skills. The one time he DOES in the form of Somnus and Ardyn … well. Look what happens.

So, Bahamut has to make a plan to save the world. He does not understand how humans think, he does not TRUST humans enough to be anything more than temporary troops at best, and he needs to do something. So in his mind- either he can let the world burn, or he can sacrifice 116 (counting Ardyn and Luna) humans to a plan that will save the world and only requires most of those humans to be essentially living batteries. It doesn’t matter what the Lucii did in life, after death their magic went into the Crystal, no responsibility or teamwork necessary. The only two who need to Do A More Complicated Job is Noctis, who needs to gather power and then sit on a chair and die, and Luna, who needs to wake up the other Astrals. That’s it. 116 people and the world’s simplest instructions (to an Astral anyway) and boom, entire planet and billions of lives are saved. Billions of lives Bahamut is in charge of guarding, billions who he knows just as well (or in this case just as not well) as the LCs and Oracles. People living and loving and hoping and dying all in the same blinks of time as the LCs that we love but to Bahamut are just - strangers. Useful strangers. But strangers.

To summarize, Bahamut is stuck in the world’s biggest version of that railway switch scenario in Psychology class: If there are five people stuck on one railway track and one person stuck on the other, and a speeding train set to kill all five, would you stand back and let the five die or would you flip the switch to the alternate track and sentence the other one person to death? Only in Bahamut’s case it’s: will you sentence 116 people to live and die for a prophecy (past Oracles don’t count as they don’t expressly need to die for the Prophecy, they aren’t even living batteries, only Luna needs to die for the cause) to save billions across multiple generations to stop a plague, or will you sit back and watch as they ALL die.

And that’s not even touching on the Time thing where, to Bahamut, this entire plan might not even TAKE that long. Sure to humans it’s 2k years and however many people getting turned into daemons, but in the original plan (Ardyn being Chosen King) that wouldn’t have happened and in this backup plan (Noctis being Chosen King) what to us is centuries could, for Bahamut easily be closer to an annoying but expected wait in the doctor’s office. He sentenced Gilgamesh to wait until the coming of the Last Shield but considering how long the Astrals live and have lived that’s easily just the world’s most stern and aggressive Time Out to his eyes, especially since the whole “living on in a suit of armor rather than original body” means very little to beings who can and have been shown to react to death by sighing, making new bodies, and then going about their day like usual. Those thousands, maybe millions, who die to the Scourge in the meantime? Well no he doesn’t like it, but there is still X billions of living humans he needs to safeguard and it’s not HIS fault that Chosen King One went and got himself infected and then stabbed by his brother now is it? Ardyn comes to him all infected and crazy and Bahamut is essentially going “I can’t fix this and you were supposed to be Chosen King but now you’re the Accursed. Bright Side, you can still find peace in the afterlife and have the bonus of taking the Starscourge out with you (Vengeance is, after all, one of the few things humans and Astrals share a concept of). All you have to do is let the new Chosen King stab you.” He’s just saying it in the vaguest, nastiest, I-will-not-admit-that-my-plan-blew-up-in-my-face way that the Scourge then twisted to an outright “this was my plan all along now do your job and die stupid mortal” kinda way.

So … yeah stupid long ramble but TD:LR the Starscourge shows illusionary and manipulation powers far more often and more thoroughly than Bahamut ever did and while it is Totally Valid and Plausible that Bahamut is a terrible, manipulative person, he has and always will strike me more as a non-human Strategist trying to do his job and being Really Arrogant and Vague about it when his plan goes off the rails and he needs to resort to Plan 2: Electric Boogaloo.

Of course, if Manipulative Bad Guy Bahamut makes more sense to you then cool. But this is just the perspective I take in like- all my ffxv AUs and I felt the need to finally put it out there since the topic finally came up.

#SE asks #anon asks #Secret Engima Rambles #SE theorizes #i hope i don't lose followers for this #but like #this version is so much more interesting #the thought that all the tragedy #is really a series of accidents #mistakes #and miscommunications #hurts so much more #has so much more POTENTIAL #then just a 'blargh i'm an evil corrupt astral manipulating things for lols'

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callunavulgari · 5 years ago

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Year-In-Fic | 2019

How many fics did you write this year? What was your total wordcount?

This year I wrote 41 fics (technically 40 as the last was published today, but I wrote it in December so I’m counting it), for a total of 96,689 words. For even more interesting numbers, of that 96k, a little over 70k of them were written in the month of October alone, so I’m pretty proud of that.

Fic Roundup!

children of dust and ash | Bartimaeus | Bartimaeus/Kitty(/Nathaniel) | 1,801 words | Kitty summons Bartimaeus on a chilly fall day in her thirty-eighth year.

sweet music playing in the dark | DBH | 1,102 words | “I noticed some time ago that you seem to have an appreciation for jazz.”

Radio Ga Ga | Stranger Things | Harringrove | 1,143 words | There’s always another party in Hawkins, Indiana. It would be almost boring if it weren’t for Steve Harrington.

Sunlight | Marvel | Loki/Thor | 765 words | They aren’t quite out of the solar system when Loki appears at the arm of Thor’s chair, hair shorn short and a furious snarl on his face.

like the bough of a willow tree | Detroit Become Human | Hank/Connor | 1,214 words | There’s a human lost in his woods.

knocking on heaven’s door | Stranger Things | Harringrove | 1,748 words | “Just, get in the fucking car. I’ll drive you home.” Billy looked at him, very seriously, and said, “What if I don’t want to go home?”

no more dreaming like a ghost | KH | Axel/Roxas | 813 words | He is in the kitchen, the stove top still warm under his thighs, and everything smells of cherries. The pie is cooling on the windowsill, the sun slanting in warm and buttery, and it is like a dream. A memory. A wish.

Cheers | DBH | Hankcon | 6,368 words | “Are you coming in or not?”Connor blinks, jerks his eyes up and away from those hands and-The bartender has blue eyes. They match the spinning LED at his temple perfectly.

bury a friend (try to wake up) | Stranger Things | Harringrove | 1,587 words | Steve digs up Billy’s body on a Tuesday.

won’t be too soon ‘til I say… goodnight moon | KH | Riku/Sora | 4,549 words | The house was built in the fall of 1882.

you’ll never know what hit you | Buzzfeed Unsolved | Ryan/Shane | 5,379 words | “C’mon, ghost,” Shane urges. “Make all my dreams come true. Fuck me up, fam.”

make this chaos count | EOS 10 | Ryan/Akmazian | 724 words | “You really should stop looking for me,” Akmazian tells him, fingers creeping across Ryan’s ribcage, mapping the architecture of his ribs.

eat you up whole | The Witcher | Geralt/Regis | 2,527 words | “How many mouthfuls do you think I could take from you before it had some effect?” Regis whispers, lips against his throat. Geralt can feel the pinprick of fangs. “Four? Six? Ten? More, even?”

forget the horror here | DBH | Hankcon | 4,390 words | “Hello,” the android says, it’s chest heaving, the gleam of its heart brighter, bluer than before.

summoning demons (and other bad first date ideas) | Buzzfeed Unsolved | Ryan/Shane | 3,868 words | “If I let you out of that circle,” Ryan says, slowly. “Are you going to eat me?”

Itch | The Magnus Archives | Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims | 1,440 words | The boneturner takes from him two ribs - one for him and one for Jon.

the salt water sting | Dishonored | Corvo/Outsider | 2,163 words | The ship wrecks several hundred miles off of the coast of Karnaca.

a skeleton of something more | SGA | Rodney/John | 3,072 words | “John?” he murmurs, still coasting on the pain. His head feels like it’s stuffed with cotton, if cotton were also made of glass.

in the woods somewhere | Teen Wolf | Derek/Stiles | 4,570 words | Stiles buys a house in Virginia.

Wake Up | The Magnus Archives | Martin/Jon | 550 words | “If you wake up,” Martin tells him, experimentally. “I won’t go through with it. You can tell me what a stupid idea it was, and we can laugh about it, and everything will be normal.”

Pas de Deux | KH | Axel/Roxas | 506 words | Roxas doesn’t remember what the sky looks like anymore.

try to wake up | Stranger Things | Harringrove | 1,226 words | They do not, in fact, bone down and praise Satan.

too late to come on home | LoZ | Gen | 1,391 words | “You look familiar,” the boy says in his strange, haunting voice. “Are you lost?”

patron saint of the lost causes | Harry Potter | Draco/Harry | 4,203 words | “Can’t you just, y’know,” he waves a hand and makes an obscene gesture, his cheeks flaring red. “Shag it out?”

wouldn’t you like to see something strange? | Teen Wolf | Sterek | 1,571 words | “I’d say you make my heart pound, but well…” Stiles nods meaningfully to his chest, where if you look hard enough between the slots of his ribs, you can see the lump of muscle that once was his heart, pointedly not beating. “You know.”

the night is softly, sweetly calling | Teen Wolf | Sterek | 2,938 words | Here’s the thing that Stiles never tells the Hales: his mother was strange too.

Haunt | Buzzfeed Unsolved | Ryan/Shane | 1,486 words | Ryan couldn’t remember a time when the world didn’t believe in ghosts.

bite my tongue, bide my time | PJO | Nico/Percy(/Annabeth) | 1,376 words | “What’s wrong with you?” Nico asks, cowering when Percy places a gentle kiss on his collarbone.

Bird Song | Raven Cycle | Ronan/Adam, Gen | 1,445 words | On a dreary Sunday in early January, Ronan dreams himself a pair of wings.

kiss me hard until you’re done | Star Wars | Reylo | 3,082 words | He looks up at her from under heavy lids, dark hair sweeping forward to frame his face. “May I have this dance?”

beauty in the dissonance | Marvel | Tony/Loki | 1,411 words | When Tony dies, it isn’t for forever.

like real people do | Stranger Things | Harringrove | 2,808 words | “I’ve got the sight, man,” he says with a small shrug. “And look, I feel for you. You’re dead and I’m not, and that sucks, but unless you’re planning on doing something about it, I’d really appreciate it if you could stop feeling me up and let me get back to sleep.”

i’d rather drown in your ocean | Naruto | Itachi/Shisui | 1,630 words | The Uchihas are an odd sort. Everyone says so.

catch your breath | The Bright Sessions | Mark/Damien/Sam | 2,588 words | Mark had never assumed in a million years that he would ever see Damien again. He hadn’t factored in zombies.

Nightmare | The Magnus Archives | Martin/Jonathan | 1,424 words | “All right,” he says, taking Jon’s still outstretched hand. “Let’s give the dream what it wants.”

dreaming of the crash | Gravity Falls | Mabel & Dipper | 484 words | When the end of the world comes, they’re under the bed.

don’t we love it now? | Kingdom Hearts | Sora/Riku/Kairi | 1,784 words | When Kairi is eleven years old, she gets lost in the woods.

all this, and love too, will ruin us | Star Wars | Reylo | 1,102 words | Rey is awake to watch the sunrise

open the walls, play with your dolls | Coraline | Coraline/Wybie | 2,886 words | Halloween at the Pink Palace is a lot like any other time of year.

in every golden trace | Queen’s Thief | Costis/Eugenides/Irene | 4,645 words | For as long as Costis can remember, he’s had two names scored across the skin atop his ribs, one on either side of his rib cage, nearly perfect mirrors to one another.

a different kind of danger in the daylight | Shades of Magic | Lila/Kell/Holland | 6,930 words | Sleeping with Holland was never part of the plan.

Best story I wrote this year: Probably the night is softly, sweetly calling. I wrote this for the 18th of October, and it’s the much awaited third part of a Teen Wolf/Addams Family fusion that I wrote back in 2014. A lot of people have asked me to continue this series over the years, but I never did because I felt my writing style had changed too much and then I fell out of the Teen Wolf fandom completely. But I’d written another Teen Wolf fic a few days before (more on this later) and I was just... very nostalgic all of a sudden. My style of writing had changed, but to offset the change of tone, I wrote the story from Stiles’s POV instead of Derek’s and it made all the difference. I was pretty pleased with the result, and hope that it made everyone happy.

What’s your favorite story this year? Not the most popular, but the one that makes you the happiest. patron saint of the lost causes. There were a couple fics that I think I did a really good job writing this year, the one listed above and below included, but I think that this one was my favorite. Writing Drarry was a surreal experience, because even when I was in the Harry Potter fandom I didn’t really write for it (well, I didn’t publish what I’d written for it) and I was surprised by how easily it came to me. I tried to channel a lot of the feeling of men who had mothers when I was writing this one, because it seemed very right.

Okay, NOW your most popular story. All right, so technically my stats are all messed up this year because when I posted the third part of the Addams/Teen Wolf fusion, I also posted a chapter to Que Sera, Sera since so many people were subscribed to that story. So. From a purely stats standpoint, Que Sera, Sera was the most popular because it has a total of 25,790 hits, 2973 kudos, and 115 comments. BUT, I did not actually write anything new for that one so-

in the woods somewhere was the first fic I’d written for Teen Wolf since I wrote take me to church in August of 2017. It has over 900 kudos and some 5000+ hits. When I decided to do Dark Month this year, I knew that I wanted to revisit some of my old fandoms, so Teen Wolf was always going to be a given. I wrote take me to church as a cathartic goodbye to the show, the fandom, and of course, Stiles and Derek. It was my soft epilogue for the boys.

in the woods somewhere has a very similar feel to it. It’s post-canon, obviously, and features Stiles buying a house in Virginia and Derek slowly working his way back into his life. It is also very much in the ‘soft epilogue’ genre, leaning heavily into the magical Stiles Stilinski trope while maintaining the FBI agent direction canon was leading us in. Also it has a lot of comfort things for me - judicious descriptions of food, a packed witchy cabin in the woods, and warm shower kisses. Story of mine most underappreciated by the universe, in my opinion: Possibly either won't be too soon 'til I say... goodnight moon or all this, and love too, will ruin us. The first of these two fics is almost 5k of spooky season Riku/Sora that was strongly inspired by Uzumaki-sama’s old fic Goodnight Moon. It was the second day of October and my prompts for the day were moon cycles, nightmare, cage, lookalike, mirrors, and glowing eyes, which was just asking for fic exploring doppelgangers and old haunted houses. I loved writing it, and maybe I should have expected it since Kingdom Hearts is such a quiet fandom nowadays, but it honestly stung that it didn’t get more attention.

The second of those fics was a Reylo fic (yes, yes, I know, it’s an awful ship, etc. etc.) that was very much written to be slow and melancholy and kind of surreal. Sometimes my smallest fics are my favorite, and I really liked this one. But alas, some things were not meant to be.

Most fun story to write: I had a whole lot of fun writing summoning demons (and other bad first date ideas). A lot of the fics I wrote this year, particularly during October, were really fun and easy to write. I missed writing every day. This one in particular though was about 4k of Ryan accidentally summoning Shane (the demon) while Shane was standing right next to him in his human suit. It let me play with a lot of body horror tropes that I don’t explore usually, and Buzzfeed Unsolved is a very fun, fresh fandom to dig around in. This is the second of the three (I think it was three, at least) fics that I wrote for the fandom during October and I had so much fun with it.

Story that could have been better? I don’t know about better, but Sunlight and Bird Song were both supposed to be significantly longer. I wrote Sunlight shortly after watching Endgame, and it was always going to be me working my way through my issues with that movie (Loki not really coming back, weird wonky time travel, Thor leaving his people after his whole arc was him learning how to be a good king) but I got distracted and had to go somewhere that day and just never got back to it.

Bird Song is actually a fic I’ve been meaning to write for years. Ages ago (and we are truly talking ages ago, like September 2015 ages ago), @kaikamahine gave me a prompt for E, 17, and hymnal, which basically balanced out to Ronan, churches, and wings. So day 20 of October was going to be Raven Cycle (with such prompts as stacked deck, darkness, wings, and fight fire with fire, it was begging for it) and I was finally going to write Ronan wingfic. It was going to be great. There was going to be Calla and Ronan interaction and found family themes and there was going to be a church, because obviously, but then I wasn’t doing so well and ran out of time, SO. Definitely could have been better.

Story I wrote to fix things: beauty in the dissonance, the 24th fic of October, was a Tony/Loki flavored story where both Tony and Loki are, in fact, alive. Sunlight was written as a direct response to Endgame, even if it was never finished properly. make this chaos count was the 4th day of October, and written because I’m still not fucking over Ryan and Akmazian. And then knocking on heaven’s door was written just after viewing s3 of Stranger Things. It was uh, less of a fix it fic and more a wallow in your grief fic, but it still applies.

Oh, and a different kind of danger in the daylight was technically fix it fic? I’m generally okay with how Shades of Magic ended, despite my favorite character dying because it came off as a good death. However, the recipient of my Yuletide gift wanted no character death and I wanted to write something post-canon, so presto, fix it fic.

Longest completed fic this year: a different kind of danger in the daylight, followed by Cheers. Both are hovering between 6 and 7k, which isn’t technically long, but since about 90% of my fic this year was written over the course of a day each... I’ll take it.

Fandom you enjoyed writing for most this year: I had a lot of fun with Buzzfeed Unsolved and The Magnus Archives, but I also had fun dipping briefly back into Harry Potter and Teen Wolf.

Favorite character you wrote this year: I had way, way too much fun writing Geralt and Regis in eat you up whole. I have literally no idea if it translated into good fic, but it was fun and just shy of porny and I just really like Geralt. I also had a lot of fun writing Lila in the Shades of Magic fic.

Most memorable comment(s) this year: I got two comments from @kaikamahine about a week ago that honestly made my day. @faorism reread one of my older Stranger Things fics and left a comment, which made me reread it, which was just very good. Every single comment I got on the new Teen Wolf fics with some variation of ‘missed you’ or ‘so glad you’re back’ made me fucking melt. The two different comments where the reader wasn’t even familiar with the material, just read and enjoyed because I wrote it. The comment on one of my Stranger Things fics that just reads, “What the FUCK this SLAPPED.” The comment directly above that one that is from one of my favorite writers in the fandom. The several comments on the single PJO fic I wrote this year which were different variations of “oh my gosh it’s you” and “it’s been so long.”

And of course everyone losing their collective shit over some of the grosser October fics. Namely Itch.

Fics you wanted to write but didn’t: For the most part, the fics I wanted to write but didn’t are the same as last year- Sabriel AU, Enjolras/Grantaire fic, found family Dishonored fic, bodyswappying Reylo, Sterek Bioshock and Carmilla AUs which I am likely to post as is sometime next year.

I still want to finish the Castlevania OT3 fic, the giant canon-divergent Bright Sessions AU where years after the series ends, Mark ends up running into Damien again in a small town in the middle of nowhere only to realize that he has a daughter, a farm, a life, and is just so drawn to it that he keeps coming back. I have the Wolf 359 post-canon fic where everyone has feelings and found family is a general theme and maybe Eiffel smooches an AI. I also have the smuttier Wolf 359 fic that’s been lurking in the back of my head for months where Eiffel and Kepler er, basically eiffel tower Jacobi.

Oh, and I have the Reylo fic where Rey (and Ben, through the bond) sit through General Organa’s funeral and keep coming back to each other afterwards. And that Final Fantasy 15 fic where Dino and Noctis do the nasty. And the Hera & Jacobi fic from October. And uh, the post episode 9 fic that’s been lurking about in my brain.

Oddest story: Probably i’d rather drown in your ocean? It was pretty spot on aesthetically for me, but it was weird to write Itachi and Shisui again, especially in a strange modern day vampire context? Also Itch and Nightmare were both Magnus Archive fics that were super gross (Itch) and just plain spooky and bizarre (Nightmare) but they were so fun to write. Hardest story to do: Cheers gave me some trouble initially but got a lot easier as I went on. I hit writer’s block pretty bad with the Shades of Magic fic too, but that seems to be what happens when I come up on deadlines. Easiest story to write? Most of October’s fics were a blast to write and super easy besides. Basically all of the Kingdom Hearts, Stranger Things, and Teen Wolf fic. And the Buzzfeed Unsolved.

Most mining of your own history in one story: Probably either open the walls, play with your dolls or no more dreaming like a ghost. Not in any way that really matters, but there are a couple familiar details.

Themes, or absence thereof: Mostly either spooky scary things or fix it fics. Sometimes both.

Where did you publish/archive your stories? Ao3, as per usual. Story I haven’t yet written, but intend to: The only thing that I currently have planned is the post episode 9 fic and a couple things that I’ve had planned for a while that may or may not come out.

Sexiest moment (excerpt): “How many mouthfuls do you think I could take from you before it had some effect?” Regis whispers, lips against his throat. Geralt can feel the pinprick of fangs. “Four? Six? Ten? More, even?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Geralt murmurs, and Regis laughs.

“I would,” he agrees.

“So, why don’t you find out instead of boring me with all the details?”

Regis pulls away from his throat, far enough that Geralt can meet his eyes again. He swallows at what he finds there. Amusement, yes, but also hunger, brighter than the moonlight reflecting in his eyes.

“A taste, first, I think,” Regis says in a low, cool voice, and then closes the space between them.

Geralt had forgotten the blood on his lip, but he remembers it when Regis catches him in an open-mouthed kiss. It’s wet and bruising, and Geralt is responding before he remembers he shouldn’t, fighting back the only way he knows how with the rest of him indisposed. He claws at him, bites at him, and the vampire laughs when Geralt catches his plump lower lip between his teeth and bites down. Regis gives his mouth one last darting swipe of the tongue before he is pulling away.

There’s a flare of color high on Regis’s cheeks and his ears are distinctly more pointed than they were five minutes ago, the sclera of his eyes gone red.

“Can’t say I’ve ever been bitten by a human before,” Regis tells him, leaning close like he’s divulging a secret. “It’s a rather exhilarating experience.”

“I’m all for a repeat experience,” Geralt quips, eyes narrowed. “Lean in just a little and we can see if I can manage to tear off your lips before you rip out my throat.”

“Please,” she whispers, and feels herself quiver like a taut bowstring when he touches her mouth gently, with the very tips of his fingers.

He smiles and leads her away, through the demons and goblins and fae that she came here to kill.

They make it as far as the parking lot before he is hitching her up the side of a gleaming Mercedes, hooking her legs around his shoulders, and hiking her skirts up over her thighs so he can duck his head beneath them. His fingers linger for a moment on the silver of the knives strapped securely to her thigh, and then he is reaching in, guiding her underwear to the side and getting his mouth on her, right where she wants it.

She must make some kind of noise, because he chuckles, tongue circling her clit in a slow, languid way that makes her think that he is savoring her, that he likes the taste of her on his tongue.And he must, because she knows what he is. Knows that just as he’s savoring the taste of her, he is eating her, feeding off of her want like the things that she hunts in the dark feed off of blood and marrow and souls. She knows, but it isn’t enough to stop her from tilting her head back, gasping for him, the distant wink of streetlights and stars so far away.

He makes her come with his mouth on her, with his fingers inside her, and even as she’s shaking around him, she knows that it isn’t enough. She wants more, wants to feel the heavy press of him inside around, wants to kiss his lips and taste herself on his tongue.

“Please,” she says, her thighs shaking, and he laughs, pulling away and easing her down, until her legs are looped around his waist instead of her shoulders. He reaches between them, and she knows what’s happening beneath her skirts, knows that he’s getting his cock out of his pants and pressing it against her, can feel it as he sinks slowly into her, the tight fit of it so sweet, so perfect that it makes her ache.

“You’re lovely,” he whispers, kissing her shoulders and fucking into her slow, a teasing stretch that makes her mouth water, makes her twitch.

“Is this what you wanted?” Hank jeers, one finger circling the rim of Connor’s hole. There’s a flush of angry blue across his cheeks. His hair is coming loose from its usually immaculate tail, curling against his forehead. His eyes are blue. His LED is not. “To lay back and take it? From a fucking machine?”

Connor whines, back arching as Hank dips the tip of his thumb inside, just enough to hold him open.

“That is it, isn’t it?” Hanks says softly. There’s a touch of triumph to his gaze as he fucks Connor open on his thumb. Something mean, too. Disdain, slowly unfurling in the curve of his lips. He shakes his head. “All this time, coming to this bar. Talking to me like you thought I was some kind of human, and you just wanted something like me to hold you up and take you apart.”

“No,” Connor gasps, but can’t help the twist of his hips when Hank adds another finger.

“No?” Hank says with a laugh. “Look at you.”

Connor’s cock jerks against his belly as Hank drags his pants the rest of the way down his thighs. They make it as far as his knees before they tangle, stuck on his shoes. His cheeks feel hot, and he- god, he wants to protest. Wants to say that Hank’s got it all wrong, that this is more. That he’s more.

But then Hank is flipping him over, until the arm of the couch is digging firmly into his belly, his ass high in the air. Hank pulls his fingers out, then leans over and spits, the cool slippery slide of the saliva trailing down the curve of his ass.

“All right, Connor,” he says. “This what you want? I’ll give it to you.”

No, Connor should say. It isn’t like that.

Instead, he says, “Please.”

Crackiest moment (excerpt):

“Did you just sneak into my house?” Stiles breathes, absurdly charmed.

Derek’s in his human disguise, everything dangerous about him hidden away from view, lurking just under the surface. He gives Stiles a look, and says, “Don’t be weird about it.”

He shuts the door behind him.

“I’ve got a nice monster knocking on my door just before the witching hour,” Stiles tells him playfully, making room for Derek to take a seat next to him. “How am I not supposed to be weird about that?”

Derek does something akin to rolling his eyes, the flames doing a little shimmy around the circumference of his eye sockets. He leans back against Stiles’s headboard, seemingly unconcerned that their sides are pressed together. Derek’s skin is very warm, human warm, and Stiles is all bones. He sucks up the warmth greedily.

“I’d say you make my heart pound, but well…” Stiles nods meaningfully to his chest, where if you look hard enough between the slots of his ribs, you can see the lump of muscle that once was his heart, pointedly not beating. “You know.”

“What’s the local legend about this thing?” Shane asks, hopping up onto the throne easily and spreading out, eyes on the night sky. He looks good. He always looks good, but Ryan likes him best like this, out here with the moonlight shining down on them and the camera catching all his best angles.

As Ryan watches, he blinks, and turns to look at Ryan, puzzled. “Ryan?”

Ryan clears his throat. “The locals say that if you make a wish while sitting on her throne, the witch will grant it.”

Shane gives him a wicked smile and hums a few bars of Genie in a Bottle. Ryan chokes out a laugh, crossing the space between them until he’s leaning up against the side of the throne himself.

Shane closes his eyes. “I wish, I wish with all my might, please dear god, let there be ghosts here this night.”

Ryan holds his breath.

“C’mon, ghost,” Shane urges. “Make all my dreams come true. Fuck me up, fam.”

All around them, the world is still.

Shane cracks an eye open and squints at him. “Did it work?”

“Jon?” someone asks, and Jon blinks.

Martin is standing before him. He’s wearing something out of another time, a costume of silken breeches with a well-cut waistcoat of a rich, opalescent blue. There’s a puffy cravat hugging his neck, and polished buckled shoes on his feet. Jon almost expects him to be wearing a wig, but his hair is the one thing that’s been left untouched, hanging loose around his chin.

“Martin?” Jon asks.

Martin seems to take him in, his eyes running slowly down Jon’s body, lingering at his wrists, his waist, his thighs. It’s a bold sort of move, one that Martin would never be half so blatant about if he were awake.

“You, er. Look nice,” Martin says, and Jon glances down at himself.

He’s sure that moments ago he’d been wearing the same thing he’d worn to the office, shabby coat, mostly clean shirt, a pair of nondescript trousers that didn’t have any stains. But now, he finds himself in a dress. The gown is long and brilliantly red, the skirts heavy around his thighs. There are embroidered patterns reminiscent of roses along the bodice and down the front of his petticoat.

“Well, shit,” he mutters, still staring. Experimentally, he moves his hips, and finds that the skirts swish obligingly with the movement.

“Yes, well,” Martin murmurs, cheeks flushing horribly. “You always did look rather good in red.”

“In red-” Jon repeats in horror. “Martin, I’m in a gown.”

Favorite dialogue (excerpt):

“Are you ever going to stop looking for me?” Akmazian asks him one night.

Ryan is tired. Akmazian is a shadowed figure in the dark that he tries not to look at too closely, because if he does, Akmazian will be gone.

“Maybe,” Ryan tells him, and turns over onto his side. Away from the shadow, the ghost.

The bed dips under the weight of a person who isn’t really there, and Ryan can feel Akmazian’s breath on the back of his neck, warm and damp.

“Don’t touch me,” Ryan says, and means, I don't want this to end yet.

“Wasn’t plannin’ on it, darlin',” Akmazian murmurs back, then drags his lips over the back of his neck anyway, just to be contrary. Ryan swallows, his throat dry, tongue thick in his mouth. He clenches his fingers in the sheets, eyes squeezed so tightly shut that his vision stains red behind his eyelids.

“Please,” Ryan says.

“You really should stop looking for me,” Akmazian tells him, fingers creeping across Ryan’s ribcage, mapping the architecture of his ribs.

“I know.”

“You’re never going to find me.”

Ryan laughs. “Never say never.”

There is silence behind him and then, “Ryan. Please. You’re hurting yourself.”

Ryan trembles a little when a hand lands on his hip, just this side of too solid.

“Don’t care.”

“You’re hurting the stars.”

Ryan is silent for a moment. Then, “I just miss you.”

A sigh.

“I know,” Akmazian murmurs, and leans over to place a kiss on Ryan’s forehead. “I miss you too.”

Ryan opens his eyes, turns to look, and like always, Akmazian is gone.

“Look,” Potter says, audibly slurring. “I’ve had an idea.”

Draco crosses his arms. “And what, pray tell, is this idea of yours, Potter?”

Potter leans forward, using a hand to prop himself up, until he’s well into Draco’s personal space. He smells like beer and whiskey, and his cheeks and jaw are more beard than stubble.

“Break your curse with me,” he breathes, a hand settling atop Draco’s blanket-clad knee.

Draco swallows. “I don’t think you know what you’re talking about.”

“No, look,” Potter says, leaning in even closer, eyes a bit wild. “We can just… you know.”

“No, Potter,” Draco tells him. “I don’t know.”

But he does. He really does.

“You know,” Potter says again. “Shag it out.”

“I think that you’re confusing things again,” Draco says tiredly. He sets the book on the nightstand next to him. “Remember the terms of the curse? Love, Potter. Not sex.”

Potter’s nose wrinkles. “But sex is part of love. Usually, anyway. It’ll work, I know it.”

“It won’t,” Draco insists, slapping Potter’s hand away when it begins to wander up his thigh. “Do you really think that I didn’t shag my wife before she left me? Because I did. We tried for years. Years, Potter. Trust me, if the curse were going to break because of a fuck, it would have happened well before now.”

Potter blinks at him, his eyes wide. There’s a ruddy flush on his cheeks, and Draco’s not sure if he likes it.

“We could at least try,” Potter says, almost gently. He doesn’t touch Draco again, but he looks like he wants to, hand trembling where it lays on the bedspread.

It feels like there’s glass in Draco’s throat. He is so, so tempted. Here is what he wanted - or at least part of it - Potter in his bed begging to fuck him, and he’s going to have to send him away.

“I think you should leave,” he tells him, and Potter’s mouth shuts with a click.

Favorite lines (excerpt):

“Relax,” he croons, stroking her fingers before he pulls away. “Your secret is safe with me. Most of this crowd knows that I’m not on speaking terms with that side of my family. They won’t suspect you because of me.”

Her face is flushed, either from rage or humiliation. Possibly both.

“So you-”

“Yes,” he says, fingers dropping to caress the fabric of her gown, swirling a thumb around the sweeping petals of an embroidered rose. His gaze is sly, a bit predatory when he glances back up at her. “I know what you have under this pretty skirt of yours.”

Rey’s breath catches, and she feels something- a slow trickle of heat seeping in to pool around her navel. She shifts, thighs sliding together, and hopes that he can’t smell her.

“Just as I know exactly what you’re doing right now,” she tells him in a hard whisper, jerking away from his grip on her elbow.

His eyes widen, affecting a look of innocence - a ‘who me?’ - that isn’t quite as effective when his lips are also curling up into a slow, pleased smirk.

“And what exactly am I doing?” he asks, his eyes laughing at her.

She glares at him. That seems to be enough of a reply, because he chuckles before taking possession of her arm again and pulling her smoothly towards the dance floor. Once they’ve reached the edge of it, he stops, dropping her elbow in favor of dipping into a low, courtly bow.

He looks up at her from under heavy lids, his hair sweeping forward to frame his face. “May I have this dance?”

The dance floor is crowded, full to the brim of masked people sweeping by in jewel-bright dresses and dark suits. She knows not to - knows that this place is a lot like fae courts of old. You don’t eat the food, you don’t drink the wine, and you definitely don’t dance.

But she’s already drank the wine, so she might as well dance.

The ship wrecks several hundred miles off of the coast of Karnaca. The storm that ends them is a rare sort, fiercer than most, a huge bank of dark clouds that seems to come from the void itself, blooming on the horizon like a warning. The lightning cracks the world asunder, thunder deafening, but it's the wind and waves that will always be a ship’s downfall.

Corvo watched the wave approach, saw its frothing white caps and the way it had stretched, higher and higher, until it loomed over the ship.

They never had a chance, and by the time the wave came crashing down, Corvo was already holding his breath.

Much of what he remembers after are mere snippets: the gulping suck of the water around him, broken pieces of the ship spinning by along with those of the crew who were unlucky enough to be caught by the ship’s pull, sucked down into the void, devoured by the whale god himself. He remembers his first gasp of air once he’d surfaced, the tang of brine and salt heavy on his tongue as wave after wave battered his body.

He doesn’t think that most of the crew survived the first few minutes much less the whole night, and he is certainly alone when the sun blossoms on the horizon hours later, clinging to a piece of ship the size of his torso and kicking relentlessly towards the dawn.

Corvo grew up on the coast, his hair stiff with salt from the ocean breeze. He grew up in and out of the water, hauling cargo or gutting fish on the docks. He’s familiar with the ocean - how the pull of the tides work, which days its best to avoid the dock, how to escape the sea’s wrath when a riptide or an undercurrent tries its damndest to drown you.

So he knows that his chances of making it to land are slim. But Corvo has always been stubborn, his legs have always been strong, and his story is far from finished.

Stiles buys a house in Virginia. It’s a modest thing close to Quantico, but not too close, tucked away into the heart of the wooded Appalachians. The bones of the house is all stonework and sturdy dark wood, a rickety wraparound porch bracketing the house on all sides. The first thing that he’d bought for it were two overpriced rocking chairs he’d gotten from the nearest Cracker Barrel.

Over the course of a year, he fills the house with things. A soft, dark gray sofa. Several solid end tables. A pair of emerald lamps he gets from an antique shop. A moss-green throw that is warm as a hug when it’s wrapped around his shoulders in the dead of winter. His living room is a bit too mountain man chic, but he likes the way that it looks when he’s coming home from a long day at the academy, warm and inviting.

He gets his bed set from a woodworker a couple dozen miles down the road, a man with a gruff bristled gray face and a warm smile, who trades Stiles the custom set for some warding and a couple bottles of what he calls, ‘miracle elixir.’ The set is sturdy mahogany, a pair of wolves carved across the top of the curving headboard, runes filling the gaps between them. The chest of drawers and dresser are just as solid, and Stiles has to hire movers to help him get everything back to the house.

The bulky rednecks decked out in worn flannel that help him with it carefully avoid looking at the runes of the headboard, their eyes skittering away from the carvings like frightened rabbits. They exchange apprehensive looks when they see the herbs drying over the sink in his kitchen, but to their credit, stay quiet and hightail it out of the place when he pays them. Here in the Appalachian backwoods, no one talks about magic, but everyone knows it exists.

Stiles has people over every once in a while - flies his dad and Scott in from California, has Lydia drive down from Boston, or Kira from North Carolina - but mostly, he’s alone. It’s a strange thing to get used to, the silence of the nights out here, where the night sky is bright and clear enough to see the stars above him, not a hint of light pollution to be seen, and the trees rustling in a quiet wind is almost louder than the hoots and hollers of the local wildlife.

He’d thought it would be lonely, and to be fair, sometimes it is.

Some nights he comes home and collapses back onto his sofa, and would do anything to be right down the road from Scott and Melissa and his dad again. He has days where he craves Melissa’s pozole or his dad’s meatloaf so badly that he can taste the heat of it on his tongue.

But mostly, the quiet is nice.

He cooks himself soups that simmer in the slow cooker while he’s at the academy and roasts that he makes on the weekends. He experiments with food the way he never used to back in Beacon Hills, where he had his dad’s heart to worry about if he made anything, and fast food which was easier to grab when he didn’t. He takes a world tour through his kitchen - homemade pierogi, hearty paella, steaming pirozhki, spicy-smelling curries, and hand rolled sushi. The first time that he makes his own bread in the ancient oven that came with the house, the smell of it coming fresh out of the oven is so good that he nearly cries.

It’s three winters into living there before he hears a scratching at his door in the middle of the night, and when he goes to investigate, finds a large black wolf on his doorstep.

It’s favoring one of its paws, dark fur matted on one side of its head where he can dimly make out a sluggishly bleeding gash. It blinks at him, eyes glowing a bright, familiar blue, and Stiles spends a minute watching it before he smiles and steps aside.

Fic goals: Hey Heather, it was only 800 words, but you did technically write something original. Now, let’s do something original that’s a little longer. And while we’re at it, let’s do something novel length.

#heather says what #heather writes #2019 #new year's memes

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echoes-of-the-clockwork · 6 years ago

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Book Two: Famine (Prompto x Reader) Chapter Twelve

Escaping the cell block, (Y/n) and Prompto began their long and treacherous trek through Zegnautus Keep. Numerous of times, they encountered dead ends and a plethora of magitek troopers and powerful daemons. Fortunately, they had yet to encounter the Gashadokuro.

While running through the Keep, Prompto had questioned the Horseman about the Gashadokuro after hearing its ghostly howl once more. She had answered all his questions, each response chilling him to the core. Learning the facts about a monster set on destroying Eos and all that called it home frightened him more than any daemon would ever.

"At least the Phantom Knight is out of the picture," (Y/n) comments. "It'll be easier taking down the Gashadokuro without having to worry where the Knight is."

When they were about to round a corner, Famine grabbed ahold of Prompto and pushed him behind her. A blade swiped through the air, but (Y/n) wrapped a hand around the sharp edge to halt its descent. Her hand sliced open, blood trickling down her palm and arm. She gripped the sword tighter as the owner of the weapon rounded the corner to reveal themselves to try and reclaim it.

(Y/n) came face-to-face with Noctis as he stepped around the corner. His crystalline eyes recognized her as they widened as big as saucers. "Holy shit... (Y/n)?"

"Should I know you?" She teases, releasing the sword.

Noctis smirked as Gladio and Ignis rounded the corner. "Not really," he joins in on the teasing before switching his focus to Prompto. "We've been lookin' all over for you, Prompto."

"You alright?" Gladio asked.

"Are you hurt? Do you need help?" Ignis added with his own concern, unable to see the sharpshooter's battered up body.

"I'm fi-"

"A potion will suffice if you have one," (Y/n) interrupted her lover. The tactician handed her one and she thanked him before turning to face Prompto. She crushed the bottle in her hand a few inches from his injuries and watched as a green glow surrounded his body. She saw as the small cuts healed, but a few bruises still remained. "There. All better."

"Thanks, (Y/n), Iggy." The marksman's eyes traveled back over to Noctis nervously. "Tell me. Were you worried about me?"

"Of course I was," Noctis scoffed in disbelief at the question. "What kind of question is that?"

"Of course. That's why you came, like I believed you would. Well, I did kinda lose hope for a little bit, but it returned all thanks to (Y/n)," he casted his gentle smile in the girl's direction.

"How did...?" The Horseman pondered in bewilderment.

"The orb. You must've been trying to do something with it because it kept rolling and jumping around," he replied.

"Oh. I had no idea it would roll around on its own. It might've also been reacting to the Gashadokuro," she commented.

"Uh, the what?" Noctis inquired.

"Gashadokuro," she replied slowly. "It's the other monster I'm after. According to some intel from Aranea, the creature's here and I can definitely sense its chilling presence."

"Exactly how dangerous is this thing?" Gladio wondered.

"No human however strong cannot slay the Gashadokuro. If we do come across it, you four stay out of its way. It's rather fond of human blood and nothing or no one can satisfy its thirst."

Noctis and Prompto winced while Ignis kept his stone-like expression. Gladio crossed his arms and tried to imagine what the monster looked like, but he had no inkling to what its horrid appearance truly is. (Y/n) cleared her throat and gestured to a hallway they had yet to explore. "Shall we proceed forth?"

"Yeah. Let's go," Noctis replies before taking the lead.

As they scrambled around Zegnautus Keep, the raven-haired boy told (Y/n) and Prompto all that happened on the train after they fell off. Noctis couldn't summon any of his weapons, but he luckily stumbled across his father's blade to help him with the constant threat of daemons and MTs. Not only was it King Regis' sword, but it was the final royal arm he needed to complete his arsenal.

Gladio also told Famine about their encounter with War, the hot-tempered Horseman. Apparently, the redhead made her appearance on the train after following her target into Gralea. She stumbled across the shield and chatted with him for a few moments before vanishing. "You four are everywhere," he comments.

"You've only met three of four Horsemen," (Y/n) stated.

"Actually..." Noctis started, explaining how Death had helped him when her own target wandered into the Keep.

"You've gotta be kidding me..." Famine sighed. "Don't tell me Pestilence has popped by, either..."

"She has, indeed," Ignis responded.

The Horseman ran her hands through her golden locks with another heavy sigh. "And, of course, they don't make time for their own sister. What a lovely family I have..."

As their conversation carried on, they make their way to the central area of the level they were currently on. The tactician suddenly calls out to all of them as he stops, listening to his surroundings. "Noct, do you hear that?"

"Hear what?" The raven-haired boy glanced around in confusion.

"I've heard this sound before-on the train, just before your weapons failed you. It's nearby, and it may hold the key to restoring your power."

With more motivation than earlier, the five take off in the direction of the sound. They make their way across the catwalk leading to the central area, the noise crescendoing. "It's here," the strategist said.

Noctis stops at the large closed metal door in the center of the enormous room with bewilderment written across his face. "This thing?" He places his hand against the door and tries to open them. "Door's locked."

"It's coming from within. Is there no way through?"

(Y/n) caught sight of Prompto staring down at the barcode imprinted on his skin. Her shoulders slumped slightly at seeing the painful look in his eyes. "Prompto," she called out softly.

He lifted his head and met her loving but sorrow gaze before reverting his eyes back to his wrist. "There's a way." His friends look at him as he hesitantly steps up to the door's scanner and raises the back of his right wrist to it. The door slides open and his jaw became tight, unable to make eye contact with anyone. "So, MTs... They've got those codeprints... just like I do."

Noctis wasn't fazed by the revelation and shrugged his shoulders. "Do they? Never looked."

Prompto nodded, gulping in fear of what is waiting in store for him. "Yeah... So, as it turns out... I'm one of them. Not exactly something I could tell people growing up in Lucis." He fought back tears, his voice feeble. "Still... You guys are like... the only friends I've ever known. And (Y/n)... I don't even deserve her. I just hope that things can stay the way they were."

"Whatever. Who cares where you were born?" Noctis retorts.

"I don't see you turning against us. Not now, or ever," Ignis spoke up.

Prompto was overjoyed by their responses. "Thanks, guys. Still... I can't change where I came from. What I am."

"Since when does where you come from matter to you?" The young king pondered. "You never once treated me as a prince." He playfully punches Prompto's shoulder with a smirk.

"He's got you there," Gladio guffawed.

"Never so much as a "Highness"," the royal advisor adds.

"We're done here. C'mon, crown citizen," Noctis said.

Gladio steps over to Ignis to help guide him into the room. He gives Prompto's shoulder a friendly smack as they walk past. "You're one of us, right?"

Prompto stares dumbfounded as Ignis turns his head in the boy's direction. "Unless you'd rather not be."

Prompto smiles and nods. (Y/n) took a few steps towards him, her hands interlocked behind her back. She walked past him and elbowed him in the side, smiling at him. "Told ya. You may be from Niflheim, but you're a Lucian. You broke free from your past and created a new path for you to follow. Now that you know their answer, all these doubts you have should be put to rest. No more putting yourself down. Keep your head held high and stand beside those you care about and love. They're gonna need your support, especially during the hard times."

The Horseman didn't make it one step further before being grabbed and yanked into a pair of lithe but strong arms. Her face collided with a chest as the arms around her held her flush against Prompto's body. He buried his head in the crook of her neck, his warm breath brushing against her skin. "I really don't deserve you," she heard him mutter. "Six, I'm so damn lucky to have you."

"I feel the same way," she sighed contently.

Out of the blue, they heard Gladio calling out to both of them. They broke apart, a pout prominent on the sharpshooter's face as he released (Y/n). Side by side, they walked into the room and saw abandoned clothing laying upon the throne. Alongside the throne was a large bank of computers, the cause of Noctis' lost powers. Said boy rams his father's sword through the machines, creating a bright spark before they malfunction.

"So..." Prompto glanced at his best friend. "Did it work?"

"With the device down and out, Noct's power should be up and running," Ignis announces.

Gladio nods toward Noctis. "Go on, try it."

"Alright," the young boy exhaled. "Moment of truth." He holds out his hand and conjures a sword, earning applause from his blonde friend.

"We're back, baby," the shield grinned triumphantly.

"Let's roll," Noctis said.

The fully reunited and re-empowered retinue leave the emperor's throne room. When they thought they'd be in the clear, a gargantua daemon suddenly lands on the platform in front of them. It's quickly joined by other daemons, who set their sights on the group.

"Not you again," Noctis groaned with an eye-roll.

"New friend?" Prompto asked with his newly gifted pistol in his grasp.

"You really need to pick 'em better," Gladio said as he summoned his greatsword.

Before any of the boys could lift their weapons, the daemons were slain. (Y/n) had used the Sword of Judgement to slice through them within seconds. She stood before the baffled group, ridding herself of her weapon. When she registered all the eyes focused on her, she blinked a few times and shrugged her shoulders. "What?"

"Uh..." Noctis couldn't find the right words to respond to her innocent tone.

"Damn..." Gladio muttered in shock.

Prompto placed a hand over his racing heart. "I think I'm falling in love all over again..."

"'Bout that..." the brute turned to face the marksman. "When the hell did you two hook up?"

"A story for another time, perhaps," Ignis stated. "For now, we continue forth." They left the area and continued through Zegnautus Keep.

While walking down a narrow hallway, Prompto noticed the Ring of the Lucii resting snuggly around Noctis' finger. "I see you decided to rock the ring."

"Had to. No weapons, no friends, no choice, really," Noctis responded. "Y'know, somebody here's got to fight to rescue the Crystal... Not to mention rescue all of your asses."

"Spoken like a true king," Gladio chortled lightly. "About time."

"The ring represents a great burden, but you don't bear it alone," Ignis chimes in.

"You can say that again. Especially now that you all have your weapons back," the king responded.

"I'm diggin' this new gun, though," Prompto commented, showcasing the firearm he received from (Y/n). "It packs a punch!"

"Where'd you..." Noctis glanced toward Prompto before noticing an innocently smiling Famine walking beside him. "Never mind."

<-----------<<<<<<<<<

By the time the five reached a dormitory, they were exhausted. Noctis flopped down on one of the beds while Ignis sat down in a chair adjacent from him. Prompto sat down on the edge of the bed his best friend claimed and watched as (Y/n) remained by the door.

"You just gonna stand there or what?" Gladio scoffed, earning a sharp glare from the blonde boy.

"No," she sighed with a hint of vexation. "I'm gonna be on watch while the four of you get some rest." She turned and walked out of the room without another word.

Prompto crosses his arms, his glare burning into the shield. "Dude, really? You still don't trust her?"

"Seriously," Noctis groaned as he sat up. "It's thanks to her Prompto was rescued."

"Yeah!" The photographer shrieked. "When I fell off the train, she tried to save me! When I was at my weakest, she... she supported me. She's the reason I was able to tell you guys the truth! I don't know why you don't like her, but she's done a lot for us-especially me!"

Gladio listened as Prompto spilt the details of their journey after he and (Y/n) fell off the train. He didn't leave a single detail out in hopes the bodyguard would finally abandon the hostile attitude towards the Horseman and treat her with the gratitude and kindness she truly deserves.

Once Prompto finished explaining, his tone was low and his eyes were staring down at his clenched hands. "Honestly, I'd be dead right now if it wasn't for her." He flops back on the bed. "She's just so amazing," he sighs dreamily.

"It appears we are indebted to (Y/n)," Ignis stated. "In more ways than one."

Gladio rubbed the back of his neck with a sigh. "Guess you're right, Iggy." He pushed himself off the bed and walked toward the door. As he stepped in front of it, the sound of metal ripping came from the other side and the entire room shook.

"W-What the hell?!" Noctis shouted as he flew to his feet with Prompto close behind. Ignis steadily raised his body from where he sat and turned his head in the direction of the door.

Gladio triggered the door and immediately stepped back when a boney appendage nearly grabbed him. "Shit!" He dodges a couple of skeletal fingers, stepping away from the door and standing in front of the others as he summoned his greatsword.

(Y/n) stood on the other side of the large appendage, trapped in a dead end with no way around it. She couldn't even reach the room due to where the arm had bursted through the floor. "Guess you go tired of waiting, huh?" She summoned her sword and slashed at the arm of the Gashadokuro when she saw it reach into the room the boys were in. "Oh, no, no, no! If you wanna target someone, target me!" She slashed at the monster, successfully grabbing its attention.

The remainder of its arm surged through the floor and toward (Y/n). The speed baffled her due to knowing the monster's true size and didn't register it had grabbed one of her legs between its thumb and index finger. She gasped, dropping her blade as her body was dragged across the floor toward the hole when the arm began its retreat. She knew magic would be useless against the massive creature due to its resilience again spells of any element. Her Touch of Starvation would fail her as well due to the nature of the Gashadokuro. All she could do was search for something to grab, but the hallway was barren.

Before (Y/n) could be dragged down to the lower levels of Zegnautus Keep, someone grabbed ahold of her arm and used all their strength to prevent her from being taken. Looking up, her (e/c) eyes widen in pure shock. "Gladio," she gasped.

"The second I try to make shit right and this damn thing shows up," he hissed against the strain of trying to fight against the Gashadokuro.

"(Y/n)!" She heard Prompto bellow as he, Noctis, and Ignis left the room. He grabbed her other arm and tried to help, but between the monster's strength and the combined strength of the two boys, it was winning.

"You two need to-ah!" She cries out in pain, feeling the Gashadokuro crushing her leg between its fingers.

Prompto flinched at hearing the painful wail and accidentally slackened his grip. When she sunk further into the hole, he quickly retightened it. He used his other hand to summon the gun she gave him and aimed it at the monster's arm. He shot a few rounds, but the Gashadokuro didn't slacken its hold on Famine.

"You've gotta let go!" (Y/n) shouted at the two boys.

"What?! No!" Prompto shouted. "We're not gonna let you go!" The blonde suddenly had a sense of déjà vu. His mind raced to when he had fallen off the train and she had been the one to catch him, refusing to let go.

"At this rate," the Horseman groaned as the monster tugged more on her leg. "My leg is gonna be torn off if this game of tug-of-war doesn't end! Missing limbs take too much time to regenerate and we don't have much time to begin with! Let me go, Prompto, Gladio!"

"B-But..." the sharpshooter's voice dissipated as he stared down into her (e/c) eyes.

"I'll be fine. This way, I know the four of you will be safe. Only I can slay the Gashadokuro."

Gladio saw the determination in Famine's eyes and sighed. "You're one helluva tough girl, you know that?"

"Have to be for the job I'm stuck with," she managed to chuckle through the pain.

"W-We'll find you, okay?" Prompto's shaky voice echoed throughout the empty hall.

"I'll be waiting," (Y/n) smiled in return.

In unison, Prompto and Gladio released the girl and watched helplessly as the Gashadokuro dragged her down the hole and down to the lowest levels of Zegnautus Keep.

#final fantasy xv #final fantasy xv x reader #ffxv #prompto x reader #prompto argentum

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xadoheandterra · 6 years ago

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Series: The Burning of Solheim Title: The Path Untrodden Fandom: Final Fantasy XV Chapters: I | II | III | IV | V | VI | VII | VIII | IX | X | XI | XII | XIII Characters: Prompto Argentum, Ignis Scientia, Cor Leonis, Gladiolus Amicitia, Noctis Lucis Caelum, Gilgamesh, Ardyn Izunia | Ardyn Lucis Caelum, Verstael Bisithia Tags: 10 years older!Prompto, Prompto and Gil the ongoing comedy, Noctis wants to fix it, angst and hurt and probable comfort, miscommunication effectively for EVER, Ardyn is Ardyn, Ardyn is not a happy trash man, Ardyn and relationships Summary: Solheim was the height of civilization long enough that their ruins were ruins over 2000 years ago, and still had the power to function in the time of the King of Light. They should’ve realized something was very wrong the minute Prompto remarked on the lights being on, and yet no one was home.

“We need to find Ardyn,” Prompto said into the tense air the following morning. Noctis eyed him blearily with a pillow hugged tight to his chest; Gladio sweat-soaked from his morning run, leaned against the door with his arms crossed and Ignis seated in one of the chairs with a can of Ebony in hand.

Cor sat next to Ignis, leaned away from Gilgamesh who cleaned a blade on the second bed in the small caravan. Gilgamesh didn’t even look up as Gladio and Ignis traded looks, or how Cor watched him with lips pressed together. Prompto waited for someone to say something—anything. No one spoke up, and so with a groan of frustration Prompto threw his hands into the air.

“Come on!” Prompto cried out. “Don’t you guys have any shit to say?”

Nothing—until Cor sighed heavily and mumbled something about Lucis Caelum’s and bullshit and then clearly uttered, “He’s the Chancellor of Niflheim. You would put Noctis at risk.”

Noctis shrugged and buried his face into the pillow. What he said was muffled enough that no one could quite understand him, but Prompto still tilted his head in the blue-black haired man’s direction with a faint frown.

“Noct…” Prompto said, voice soft, and Noctis raised his head lightly to look back with his face just the slightest bit pinched and Prompto—Prompto couldn’t identify the feeling that curled in his gut, but he didn’t quite like it.

Gilgamesh set the blade down and breathed out heavily enough to flutter the long white locks of his hair and spoke his words with care. “Ardyn is not the man we knew.”

“Bullshit,” Prompto snapped out. “I refuse—”

“He changed,” Gilgamesh uttered sharply and Prompto went silent. “He changed, Silver. The Gods gave him his Path and he walked it willingly.”

Prompto shook his head, forcefully, and hissed between his teeth, “Yeah, he saved lives but I refuse to believe some nonsense about him changing from it.”

“Even you saw—”

“I saw a man grow sick!” Prompto snapped out, loud enough into the silence and loud enough to draw Noctis fully away from the pillow with brow furrowed. “I saw a man grow tired! I saw a man suffer under his ideals and suffer from the points of difference from his brother! I saw a man who felt so assured that the Gods would provide him aide—that his marriage would be the catalyst he needed, that the Crystal would keep him safe—and I saw a man who had no idea he would walk into his Confirmation alone and betrayed!”

Gilgamesh quieted, and then look away for a moment. It was odd for Prompto to see the normally stiff man for all his talk of duty seem so contrite. Prompto breathed heavily, and startled when Noctis reached out and grabbed his arm. For a second Prompto stared at the young face of his friend, stared at a face he could barely remember, and then Noctis bowed his head.

“We’ll make it right,” Noctis said, voice soft and firm and Prompto felt something in him choke. “It needs to be made right.”

Cor sighed heavily and leaned forward, onto his knees. After a second he scoffed and gave a bitter sort of laugh. “If only Regis could hear you say that.”

Noctis looked to Cor. “Why?”

Cor looked back and said, “Because you sounded just like your mother.” For a moment no one said anything and then Noctis straightened his back.

“See, Prom?” Noctis said with a grin not quite as forced. “We’ll make it right.”

Ardyn frowned lightly at the reports Verstael forwarded his way. He grabbed a hand around the Atissian wine that he’d taken as a drink within the confines of his room at the Leville as he worked through the data and the reports from three separate MT Technicians. All of them lined up together and sold the same sordid tale—and it had to be a lie. Ardyn’s hand tightened on the wine glass hard enough it could crack.

“I’ve had them interrogated separately and still their story remains the same,” Verstael’s voice rang out from the phone that Ardyn had laid out onto the table, the call settled into speaker so that he could read and focus at once.

“Yet they do not describe this unmentionable, ancient horror,” Ardyn drawled out, voice faintly edged in bitterness. On the screen Verstael rolled his eyes, the wrinkled face pulled tight into a scowl, but Ardyn did not care.

Three days; for one week the boys remained in Lestallum by all reports, and then nearly five days earlier they moved from Lestallum to Old Lestallum and there they remained until the past three days. They’d begun to move, finally, and yet it remained so frustratingly far from Cape Caem. Ardyn could not tell what the blasted boy-king thought he was doing. What motivated this new tour of the Lucian countryside? A drive around Duscae and Cleigne, up into the Vesperpool—yet not south toward Cape Caem with the ship that inevitably awaited them.

“What of the dear Commodore?” Ardyn questioned. “Has she had anything to say?”

Verstael sighed heavily. “Ardyn, you know that I have no inclusion or control over the army or it’s mercenaries. You will have to ask that boy you’ve taken to traveling with for answers from her.”

“Jealous?” Ardyn questioned, tone light, even as his gaze tracked to Verstael’s horribly old face with sharp golden eyes.

“Hardly,” Verstael scoffed. “What you deign to do in your time is upon you. As long as it does not interfere in my work I could care less.”

“Are you certain of that, my dear?”

“Completely.” Verstael’s gaze was a baleful one, full of age and frustration that brought a smile to Ardyn’s face. “When will you return to Gralea?”

“Once my work here is completed, you have my assurance,” Ardyn said. “I will be back in time for your little pet project. Promise!”

“If that is all, then? Or do you have more things to waste my time with?”

Ardyn waved a hand with a murmured, “No, no, Verstael. I will call you if I have need of you.” The line disconnected as Ardyn returned his gaze back to the empty reports with a frown. The best he could get out of the mess had been that this ‘ancient horror’ wielded too many blades to be human, or so the Technicians thought from what little they could see in the distance.

“I wonder…” Ardyn tapped at his lip and leaned back in his chair, coat around him like skirts and wings as he stared at the map that accompanied the reports. All of the attacks had been around Taelpar Crag, within at least twenty miles of the place all told. Ardyn swiped one finger across the screen to toss aside the map and the written reports in favor of the few photographs they had captured. These were grainy, pathetic sort of things with poor visibility, but then Niflheim seemed to lack much of the same technological advances of the Kingdom of Lucis.

One picture forced Ardyn to pause, finger hovered over the screen as he stared into the grainy image of a being with spectral arms that fanned out from a back like wings. “Ah…” Ardyn breathed, golden eyes suddenly bright as every part of him seemed to still and writhe all at the same time. “Gilgamesh.” His hand squeezed reflexively around the wine glass until it shattered as ichor black tears dripped from his eyes, skin suddenly too-pale too-sick. His voice had a much more guttural quality to it, too, more of a growl than anything.

“I wonder what drew you out of your little cavern, old friend,” Ardyn said, tone light, even as his lips curled up with a snarl. He let go of the ruins of the wine glass and shook out his now soaked hand. The other grasped his hat and tugged it low and onto his head as he ducked his gaze downward and pushed himself up from the plush chair to stand.

Atissia and the Tide Mother could wait. Ardyn had a cave full of the dead to interrogate.

Ardyn could remember the room in which they stored the Crystal in Civitas Lucii. A tall tower that Somnus would spend decades building upon, that his descendants would build upon, until it formed the foundation of Insomnia’s Citadel. Then it was stone and marble and near thirty years of work, blood, sweat, and tears with carpets in pale reds and blues with a view of all Civitas Lucii, open archways that were to eventually house windows and furnishings. Ardyn could remember how he stumbled into the room, limp controlled and back stiff. He could remember how the people whispered—how Somnus leaned hunched in the shadows alongside a marble pillar, head ducked low and brow furrowed.

Aera stood before the Crystal with Gilgamesh at her side. She smiled when Ardyn entered the room, yet now thinking back upon it he wondered if that smile ever reached her eyes. When Somnus revealed his treachery, that the kindness in his brother’s heart had fully fallen into the bitterness and fighting that they devolved into over the years, it hurt in the ways that it didn’t hurt. Ardyn could remember feeling faint enough as it was; he’d traveled the time from Steyliff Grove in the Vesperpool all the way to Civitas Lucii alone, with barely any chance for rest in the dark as his blood burned black and his pains increased tenfold.

What Ardyn couldn’t remember was Aera’s face. Had she known? Had Gilgamesh? His Shield had stood with hand on Aera, held her back—or had Ardyn imagined that? Perhaps Gilgamesh played to the hold of his beloved Aera, played to keep her away until it was time for her to fall into unnecessary sacrifice—to spill her blood and her magic so that they could be the catalyst for his chains in the darkness. At any case the memories were a mess, swamped in inconsequential things from the people he’d devoured in fits and spurts after he found himself awake from Angelguard.

“And what does it matter?” Ardyn murmured to himself as he flung a wrist covered in purple-black magic infested Scourge at the Spirit that stood in his way. He watched near dispassionately as the bones crumbled to dust and the body it inhabited forced the spectral form into release. He watched how the Spirit flew backward and into the wall, then crumbled and burst into little lights, only to disappear into the aether. “He made his choice, did he not?”

Three more came at him, and Ardyn tugged his blade free from the armiger and moved with a mix of warping, phasing, and slicing through the creatures. Gilgamesh had abandoned his duty as Shield, his Oaths and the whispers he’d made in the dark when Ardyn found himself at the lowest. Ardyn couldn’t be certain if the man had even abandoned Somnus in the end, although given the supposed exile Ardyn didn’t doubt that. Such a traitorous friend, Gilgamesh. He scoffed as he rendered the next three skeletal opponents to dust and ashes and Scourge.

“And now he deigns to walk the land he’d forsaken? What oddity, Gilgamesh, has attracted your eye I wonder?” Ardyn flicked his blade away as he moved further into the caverns. No doubt something drew the beast of a man out of his saturated home. Gilgamesh was inordinately stubborn—it made him a good Shield, until that fateful day with the fateful Confirmation on Ardyn’s shoulders, sham that it was.

Finally Ardyn reached the point past the bridge where Gilgamesh made his little foundling home. Ardyn wrinkled his nose and pursed his lips at the sight of the mess, at the cold river that ran past half and the slope half caked in shit and debris. It took him a moment to gather up the strength to push past what amounted to nothing more than squalor—and the disgust and bitterness that welled up at the thought of one of his left to rot in something so destitute. Inside faired no better, although Ardyn noted how Gilgamesh took to looting the dead given the varied trinkets that littered the man’s hovel of a home.

“How…quaint,” Ardyn mumbled. His Shield had become a hoarder of things, so utterly unlike the man from the years before. Gingerly Ardyn picked up a few small trinkets to inspect, to see where the mind of the man he’d once cared for had gone in the intervening years—and he noticed a pattern.

Lucian finery and jewels adorned in subtle skulls littered the place; Tenebraean signatory and Oracle Ascension coins from the lapse in time were piled together, separated by year. Ardyn ran his fingers over a few with wide eyes, surprised to see items that went back as far as Civitas Lucii—coins stamped with Somnus’ visage, with Aera’s—and then others with familiar faces. Ardyn stopped at one Ascension coin that held a face so similar to Aera’s, one he knew just as well.

“Nubis…?” Ardyn murmured, surprised. He had not realized that Nubis had been crowned Oracle; the boy had barely bested twenty last Ardyn saw him and seemed to have not a lick of the magical talent of his older and Chosen Sister. In fact if Ardyn were to be certain the young man had been utterly besotted with—“Ah,” Ardyn set the coin down as the thought crossed his mind.

Nubis had longed after the young Stella Nox, the Lady Tenebrae. Ardyn couldn’t believe he hadn’t quite seen it before—but then there was nearly two thousand years and who knows how many generations between them, and how was Ardyn to know the manner in which the Mils Fleuret came the Nox Fleuret? Let alone how they came to occupy a land whose name derived from the very vassals he’d once grown surrounded by. He’d long slept through that sort of history, and it wasn’t a history the world deigned to remember. Much how the world forgot him….

Ardyn stepped around the piles of trinkets and cocked his head in mild surprise at the sight of hoarfrost that coated what looked to be an otherwise mid-cooked stew. For a second Ardyn wanted to trail his fingers in the mess, feel the bite and sting of the dead that signaled Gilgamesh’s favored brand of magic, but he restrained himself. If Gilgamesh were still the same man underneath it all he’d not leave food untended for long—unless whatever called him forth from his cavern of exile held far more sway than the dinner he froze solid in the urge to catch it.

For a moment Ardyn wanted to reach into the core of himself, to grip tight along the bond to Gilgamesh and then rend it asunder—coat it thick in Scourge and tear it into twine no matter the pain he’d feel. Only one thing could draw Gilgamesh out like this, and since he’d been seen in the presence of Noctis—Ardyn ground his teeth together and turned. With a storm at his feet he moved swiftly from the cave, through the walls. Halfway mid-step he slipped into the Scourge and let it drag him along, out and away, until the burn of the sun touched him and staggered him back into form.

He could deal with this, Ardyn realized in the heat of the sun as he returned to the drop ship that carried him here. If Gilgamesh desired to bind himself to another King, while still within the service of Ardyn for a given means of that service, Ardyn could use this. It meant a few changes to the grand plan, but oh, perhaps he would even enjoy this better. A chance to live out more than revenge through surrogacy and the hated bloodline of his hated brother—here, now, Ardyn found himself being given a gift. If Gilgamesh desired to step into the world once more, let him. Ardyn would happily break the man apart at the seams.

#fanfic #final fantasy xv #ffxv #prompto argentum #ardyn izunia #ardyn lucis caelum #noctis lucis caelum #gilgamesh ffxv #verstael bisithia #gladiolus amicitia #ignis scientia #cor leonis #fic: the path untrodden #fic: the burning of solheim

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eirenare · 6 years ago

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Afterthoughts of FFXV’s 2nd anniversary stream

Okay, so... it’s taken me a while due to a mix of having blurted out my thoughts of how I lived it all on Twitter not much time after the stream (you can read it here, if you’re interested: https://twitter.com/Eirenare/status/1060552739044950022 ) and how much it stings to still think about it, but...

Welp, it was about time I said something about it here.

I’m going to go first with the cons and then the pros...

~ CONS OF THE STREAM ~

I still can’t believe Square-Enix higher-ups took away from us 3 of the 4 promised DLCs (among who knows what amount of stuff beside FFXV that we’ll probably never know about). I just still can’t believe it. With that, they:

— robbed us of and Lunafreya of the spotlight she finally was going to get (because, as much as I love Kingsglaive and she’s a badass there, Lunafreya certainly needed more fleshing out)

— robbed us of the opportunity of kicking asses with Aranea, a freaking badass dragoon knight

— robbed us of seeing more Niflheim, and maybe of seeing Tenebrae

— maybe even robbed us of having Loqi as partner of Aranea if my theory would have been right, or seeing more Ravus, and overall probably seeing more of the other characters of Niflheim

— robbed us of the opportunity of seeing Noctis challenge a freaking fucking cruel fate he didn’t deserve and the cruel fates of the others, to get them all a deserved happy ending

— robbed us and all the characters of said happy fate they deserved after all the amount of shit they had to put up with... which means we may have also seen Nyx and the others alive and happy too

It just STINGS. SO. MUCH. It makes me feel sad, angry, annoyed, frustrated.

And it strikes me as just SO dumb to cancell these DLCs. They were in production, there was already money invested in them, AND they were going to sell for sure, given their content (more Ardyn backstory? THAT LITERALLY WON THE SURVEY. Playing as Aranea? HIGHLY requested it. Lunafreya getting more fleshed out? HIGHLY requested and was 2nd on the survey, and it was HIGHLY needed. Noctis fighting to give a happy ending to his people? Don’t know how much it was requested, but it was very interesting AND the characters deserved it)... I mean: of all the things they’ve cancelled, couldn’t Square-Enix’s higher-ups AT LEAST leave FFXV in peace and let it end as intended??

They’ve pissed off SO many people with these cancellations... A TON of us. And with reason. It was just disgusting.

I H O P E that, as Tabata’s team mentioned, they can at least tell us the stories of the cancelled DLCs in any other ways (anime, manga, online written chapters, whatever it is), but I still don’t want to get my hopes too high because, you know... Because, well, if the CEO and the rest of the higher-ups decided to cancell DLCs that had been advertised for MORE THAN 1 YEAR, and say it in a 2nd Anniversary stream, anything can happen.

And this may feel like it stings a fuckton for us, but the worse part it was Tabata and his team who took it: imagine working with such excitement to make these DLCs come true, to then, after some time in production, being told “nope”. It must have stung SO MUCH to them. They’ve been working to give all of us fans a ton of content after release, specially content that’s been asked for, and what they get is a kick in the groin.

I really hope Tabata has all the luck in this world with his next projects, free from the shackles of a company that’s beeing doing lame for a long time and it just won’t stop doing lame...

And here I hope the actual CEO is replaced, and that the structure of Square-Enix changes. Because if they don’t, I think they’ll be fucked up sooner than later. Also, the dream: all of the amazing people that’s left Square-Enix, making a good company together.

I’d also would like to say that I’m VERY thankful towards Tabata. He’s done an amazing job, and it stings to think that he’s seeing FFXV ending like this, without him being allowed to finish it as he would have liked it. I mean, you saw his last interview, not much time before the 2nd Anniversary stream (I think it was 1-2 months ago)? He was SO delighted talking about his intentions with the DLCs... Not to mention that, if I remember well, he specially wanted to see Lunafreya’s DLC happen, not just because of giving it to the fans, but because he really wanted that a ton.

If Tabata’s resignment really wasn’t him being pressed to go out, I have to say I’d totally understand that he’d go away from the company on his own, given what I’ve said before...

So, thank you for everything Tabata, and the same goes for your team. I wish you all the best of lucks. FFXV has been absolutely crucial to me these last 2 years and it’s given me SO MUCH and helped me so much... This journey’s forever going to be etched in my heart and soul.

And, well... with this, I’d like to move to the good things of the stream.

~ PROS OF THE STREAM ~

Episode Ardyn has me so, SO hyped. Like... Damn, it looks amazing. That trailer alone gave us scenes, gave us a bit of gameplay, and if I was trembling while watching the stream (although I was watching it live in JP so I had to rely on Twitter to know what was going on)? That became SHAKING. I even took my hand to my mouth in a fist and bite a bit on my knuckles.

Just... Poor Ardyn. It was my headcanon that he’d been imprisoned for such an ungodly amount of time at Angelgard, but I couldn’t foresee that they’d show him HANGING FROM CHAINS PIERCING HIS BODY (that was hard, and unexpected in the sense of that scene may be enough to raise the rating even without blood). As in, 2.000 years alone is horrible, 2.000 years alone in a cell is worse, 2.000 years alone in a cell after such traumatic events is even worse, but 2.000 years alone HANGING LIKE THAT?

Oh boy. My poor Ardyn. I wanna hug him even more now...

However, on another tone: now we know how his body really looks like underneath so many layers of clothing, and that HE HAD A PONYTAIL. That ponytail BLESSED ME. I love characters with ponytails SO much.

Also: YOUNG REGIS AND YOUNG VERSTAEL AND OMG S O M N U S . AND more explorable Insomnia AND during daytime? Sign me up. And the implications of the foreshadowing with Prompto, among other good amount of foreshadowing... A LOT of things make sense now, and I’m sure a lot more about Ardyn’s behavior and words will make sense when the DLC launches. And THE POSSIBILITIES. Imagine if we get to know or, best, see something about Noctis’ mother, Aulea? Or Noctis as a baby? Or, depending on if the DLC features different years, maybe even the Kingsglaive or others? I’m just SO excited.

Maybe they’ll do like they did with Episode Ignis and somehow put multiple endings on Episode Ardyn, too...? Hummm... *thoughtful*

ALSO: anime short movie of Ardyn. ANIME SHORT MOVIE OF ARDYN. I used to say wishfully that what if they were doing an anime of him, AND THEY ARE. Holly. And it’s about the PAST, the way they worded it. Can’t wait for the teasers in December 15th and January!

Imagine just how much hyped I was watching the trailer that it easily overcame my sadness, anger and annoyance of the cancellations for like 2 hours.

Other good things, little but nice, are the FFXIV collab and the clothings for the chocobros (specially Noctis with the cat ears and tail omg, hi at long last Nyactis), and the fact that they haven’t said they’ve cancelled the level editor, which means we could maybe still be getting it... Here’s to hoping.

So, in the end: I’m both in sorrow and excited about FFXV. Sorrow because it’ll end way sooner than expected and not in the expected way, and sorrow because of the cancellations, but excited about Episode Ardyn and its anime prologue.

To finish, I’d like to thank anyone that might have read this post, and wish you a good day (or night)!

*crossing fingers and doing every possible luck ritual in existance so that we may get the cancelled DLCs’ stories at least told in any other media*

Also: I have the feeling I’ve forgotten to say something, but I don’t know abskdng Dx

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thisisthedungeonthatneverends · 6 years ago

Text

Safe Room

Ships: familial Regis and Noctis, platonic ignoct, regclar if you squint

Rating: M

Words; 7272

Regis drops his cane and puts up a magic barrier a split second before two assailants armed with automatic handguns round the corner. They fire repeatedly at the barrier, but the bullets simply ricochet off. Behind the transparent blue wall, the King and Prince both hold their swords at the ready.

If you are going to RB anything that I have tagged TWs on, you MUST tag your reblog with those TWs. I will check.

"And that's checkmate," Noctis says with a smug grin as he moves his knight in place to block his opponents kings only means of escape. His opponent, who just so happens to be the King. The King, who folds his hands on the ornate dark oak desk and smiles. "Well done, my son," Regis congratulates Noctis. The smugness fades from the Princes face leaving a small but sincere smile. "I learned from the best." Regis chuckles. "Oh, I'm am by far not the best. In all my years, I have yet to defeat Clarus." He reaches to retrieve his cane, but is interrupted by a buzzing from his desk drawer. He opens it to find his cell phone face up with a message from the aforementioned Shield. He swipes the screen and reads: Clarus: Get yourself and Noctis to the safe room NOW, no time to explain. I'll come to you as soon as I am able "What's wrong, Dad?" Noctis asked, noticing the way his fathers eyes light up in alarm. Regis re-trains his expression to show full composure. "Apparently there has been some sort of security breach. I haven't the details, but we must go to the safe room at Clarus' behest, surely just as a precautionary measure." He then stands more quickly than his ailing knee is happy with and he represses a wince of pain. Noctis stands quickly as well, otherwise doing well to mask his mild panic. In his pocket his own phone chimes. He pulls it out to read: <Gladio: Get 2 thsafe room Don worry about anyone else and don't as questions I'll get 2uwhen I cam> Noctis' concern mounts upon reading his Shields message. Gladio, having an immense respect for the written word, does not often send such jumbles messes and never types in short hand. "I just got a typo ridden text from Gladio saying the same thing Clarus did." "We mustn't take their warnings lightly then. Let's hurry." "Yeah." Noctis grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair and, not taking the time to put it on, slings it over his shoulder. Noctis is the first out the door of the Kings personal study. He holds the door for his father and, wasting no time, they run. Noctis makes sure not to get too far ahead of his father who moves much slower relying on a cane. "You go on ahead, Noctis. This old man will catch up." "Not a chance." Just then they hear running footsteps coming down the hall towards them. In two identical flashes of blue light, they both draw their swords, preparing for a fight but hoping against one. They are relieved to see a young Crownsguard, newly enlisted judging by his insignia, running towards them. Their relief gives way to horror when they notice he is spattered with blood. "What has happened, young soldier?" Regis asks in alarm. "There's been an attack, Your Majesty," the recruit answers, out of breath. "Gladiolus Amicitia sent me to make sure you and His Highness make it to the safe room." "Where is my Shield!" Noctis demands. "He's-" Gunfire erupts in the hall, and the recruit falls to the ground; a pool of blood forms around his body.

“If neither Clarus nor Gladiolus can make it to us,” Regis says, voice strained, “Then we will have to fight.”

Noctis nods. He watches one gunman load a new magazine into his gun before continuing to fire. “Next time one of them has to reload, let down the wall just enough to let a warp strike through. I can get them both if I’m quick.”

“Well then be quick, Son. Here comes your chance.”

An empty magazine clatters to the floor. Regis relaxes his hold on the magic protecting them and the light from it dims and flickers but does not go out entirely. Noctis quickly raises his sword and thrown it like a javelin. Noctis and the sword seem to disintegrate into a shower of white-blue sparks, only to reappear in a cracking flash across the hall as the spectral weapon pierces the gunman’s chest. The second enemy turns on his heals and takes aim at the Prince. His shot goes past Noctis’ head, and in one swift motion Noctis pulls his sword from the dead enemy and slashes at the second enemy, cutting him deep across the chest. In a matter of seconds both assailants are down and Noctis stands there in the center of a sort of triangle formation of three bodies in shock. The only dead body the sixteen year old Prince had ever seen was at the funeral of Lilly Amicitia, wife of Clarus Amicitia, who had lost a battle with postpartum depression after Iris was born and taken her own life. He had only been four years old at the time. Now he had witnessed a murder and taken two lives.

“Noctis...” Noctis turns to his father, who stands stiller than a statue staring straight ahead, not directly at Noctis. “Well done.”

Noctis nods, unable to speak...until he sees it. A growing patch or red on his fathers lower abdomen. “DAD!” he screams and runs to him just as the King collapses onto the ground. Noctis drops to his knees and presses on hand to the wound and supporting his fathers head with the other. “Come on, Dad. Stay with me, the safe room’s not much farther.”

“No, Son,” Regis’ voice trembles and cracks. “Go. Get yourself to safety.”

Noctis shakes his head. “What did I tell you before? Not a chance. I’ll drag you if I have to, come on!” He places one of his fathers hands on the wound. “Keep pressure on it. There’s a store of potions in the safe room, you can make it ‘till then.” He hooks one of his arms around the older mans waist and hooks his fathers arm around his neck. It is a struggle, but he manages to haul them both to their feet.

The two limp their way to the throne room, and Noctis grunts as he shoulders open the heavy doors. “Not much farther,” he assures Regis, “Just hang on.” He almost looses his grip on his father as he carries half of his weight on one side to the North wall, but miraculously he reaches the place where a hidden piece of panel serves as the entrance to a room encased in concrete and a mytheral-steel alloy that it is said nothing can penetrate. Knowing he will need both hands free to open the panel, he gently sets his father down and props him up against the wall.

“End of the line.”

Noctis hears the unfamiliar voice spins around to see a woman step out from behind a support pillar. She is bleeding from a deep gash on her upper left thigh, and she limps as she steps. She also has a gun pointed at them. Noctis freezes.

“River?!” Regis gasps.

“Oh, so you remember me? Good. Then I you already know why I’m about to shoot your baby boy in the head and smile while you cry and bleed to death.”

“I don’t,” Noctis says, surprising even himself.

River cocks her head and takes a few steps closer to them. “You don’t what?”

“I don’t know why you’re about to shoot me in the head.” Noctis silently hopes that, in coaxing River into some sort of clichéd villain monologue he can buy time either to figure out how to take her down, or for one of their Shields to find and rescue them.

River shrugs, the malicious smile never leaving her face. “I suppose there’s enough time to fill you in. My buddies should have taken care of your and Daddy Dearests Shields and I shot that cocksure Martial myself, so it’s not like there’s anyone coming to rescue you.”

Noctis focuses on keeping his expression impassive. He thinks back to Gladio’s erratic text from earlier and hopes with a churning deep in his gut that those were not his Shield and dear friend’s last words.

“My parents brought me to Insomnia when I was just a little girl,” River begins. “My family was from a little town on the coast and were afraid the war would reach there. I grew up idolizing the Kingsglaive, wanting to be one of them. When I turned eighteen, I tried out and made the cut.”

“So you served my father as one of his Glaive and now you want to kill him?” Noctis interrupts. “Why?”

River huffs and rolls her angry eyes. “I’m getting there. Damn, you stuck-up royals don’t know how to listen. Just like your Daddy never listened to the pleas from my hometown, begging him to send them defenses, to protect them from the Empires onslaught. But what did he do? What did he give us!?” River steps closer and shakes the gun at Noctis. “NOTHING!!! He did NOTHING!! He sat here in his cozy palace while my home was annihilated! There were NO survivors! After I knelt before him and swore fealty to him, swore my LIFE to his service, he let my home burn.”

“What happened to your home was indeed a tragedy,” Regis said, struggling for breath. “But taking your anger out on my son will do nothing for you.”

“It’ll damn sure make me feel better,” River argues.

Noctis does not even realized there are tears welling up in his eyes until he feels one trickle down his cheek. “I...I’m sorry.”

River’s eyes widen in shock and disbelief. “Say what, now?”

Noctis takes a shaky breath and lets another tear fall. “I’m sorry,” he repeats. “I can’t even begin to imagine how hurt and betrayed you must feel.”

“Don’t patronize me, Prince. It won’t save your life.”

“I’m not!” Noctis protests. He feels genuine sympathy for River, sorrow for her loss, and understanding (though not forgiving) of her wrath. He raises his hands defensively. “I’m not patronizing you, I swear. I may be sheltered, I may be a spoiled royal brat, but believe it or not, I know what grief and anger feel like. The Empire attacked a convoy I was riding in on a trip to Outer Insomnia with my governess. She died, right in front of me. My dad didn’t get there in time to save her, barely got there in time to save me and I spent the next year re-learning how to walk. I screamed for him to go back for Luna and Ravus when Tenebrea was attacked, and he didn’t, he COULDN’T!” Noctis is near yelling now, a steady stream of hot, angry tears flowing down his face. “I was pissed at my own father for not being able to save anyone I cared about, but once I got over that I realized who the enemy REALLY was! My father is not the enemy, River. I’M not your enemy! Nifleheim is OUR enemy! And I can’t bring back your home, but I can promise you right now, I can swear on the lives of everyone you loved who was slaughtered that when I’m King, I’ll be better. I’ll do a better job to protect Lucis. ALL of it, not just Insomnia.” Noctis breaths heavily, and a weighted silence falls on the throne room. “Please, River,” Noctis pleads, near a whisper now, “Please give me that chance.”

It is only now that Noctis notices that River is crying as well. Her eyes are red and her face glistens with sweat and tears. “I can’t-I can’t just let you-” River sobs and her hands waiver. Noctis notices this and taking advantage of River’s distraction, slowly creeps forward and reaches for her hands.

“NO!” she screams and re-levels the gun. Noctis steps back and raises his hands again.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry! Listen, I can get you life in prison instead of the death penalty you’re looking at right now, so you can still make this right. Do right by your people, do right by yourself, River. Put the gun down. Please.”

“I...I failed them...I let my people down!” River walks backward, stumbling from her injured leg. She looks at her gun instead of Noctis now. “Years of dreaming of this day and now...I can’t even shoot a damn royal piss-ant! I...” she looks back to Noctis and raises the gun to her own head.

“River, NO!”

“I can’t...”

A gunshot and the sickening crunch of lead tearing through skull, and River’s body slumps to the throne room floor.

Noctis stands in shock, watching the red pool around Rivers head widen.

“N-Noctis-” Regis strains. Noctis spins around, panic mounting when he notices the unusual pallor of his fathers face. “We don’t know...how many…there are left,” he pants. “We...need to…hurry.”

Noctis swallows hard. With no time to process the situation, he nods. “Right.” With some effort he slides open the panel in the wall revealing a dimly lit hall. It takes more effort than before to lift his Regis back to his feet, and Noctis hates knowing that it is because his father is no longer able to hold his own weight; he has lost too much blood and is lucky to still even be alive, much less conscious. Despite having to nearly drag his father, Noctis moves as fast as he can until he reaches a metal door equipped with a key pad.

“I don’t want to have to put you down again. Can you punch in the code?”

Regis nods weekly and enters an eight digit number, eliciting a beep from the pad and a clang of metal from within the door. The door slowly creaks open and lights begin to turn on inside the safe room. Finally, Noctis pulls Regis into the place where they will finally be safe.

The safe room walls are lined with bunkbeds and cabinets containing food, water, first aid supplies, weapons, bedding, and other assorted necessities for being confined to a room just slightly smaller than the throne room. In the center is a control panel that allowed those within the impenetrable walls to monitor security footage.

Noctis gently lays Regis in one of the lower bunks. Regis wearily points to a nearby cabinet. “First aid...there...”

Noctis rushes to the cabinet and grabs a random black bag and an armful of high potions and elixirs. He drops it all ungracefully as he kneels beside the bed. With shaking hands, Noctis gingerly peels back the blood-soaked fabric from around the bullet wound. He cringes at the sight of bloody, angry red skin and the gaping hole in the left side of his fathers lower abdomen. He has to tear it open further to gain full access. He reaches for a potion, but stops.

“Dad,” he says, terror apparent in his voice, “I can’t close the wound with the bullet still in you, can I?" Noctis immediately thinks of so many movie scenes where a character must extract a bullet without anesthetic, usually resulting in a lot of screaming and even more blood. His stomach lurches.

“I’m not the one to know those kinds of things, I’m afraid.”

“Okay, hold on just a sec...”

Noctis springs to his feet and once again rushes to the cabinet and searches for what he had seen before. He finds it: an emergency first aid manual. He checks the table of contents then flips to the page about bullet wounds. Somewhere in the back of his mind, his Ignis muse is berating him for getting blood stains all over the book. He does not take the time to listen to said muse, and instead reads aloud.

“Um, okay this says, ‘In most cases you do not want to remove an implanted bullet. It is almost impossible to find without ex-ray and it may be preventing massive bleeding by corking up a blood vessel.’” Noctis returns to Regis’ bedside with the book and continues to read. “‘If the wound is open and you can see the intestines, the person needs immediate medical care. If they do not bleed to death, they may die of...’ blah blah blah, okay, potion’s safe.”

Noctis tosses the book aside and takes up a high potion. He holds it over the wound before warning, “I’m pretty sure this is going to sting at first.” He does not waist any more time before breaking the flask over the wound and letting its wave of magic rush over the torn skin. Almost immediately the hole begins to close, causing Regis to groan in pain.

“Sorry,” Noctis mutters and continued to watch the curative do its job. He is not satisfied when the hole does not close completely, so he repeats the process with a second high potion. The wound now closed and the bleeding now stopped (nothing can be known yet of any internal bleeding, but Noctis was counting his blessings) Noctis breaths a sigh of relief. “How do you feel now, Dad?”

Regis does not answer. His breathing is slow and his eyes are closed.

“DAD!”

Regis’ eyes flutter open. “Noctis...Thank you...” Then they flutter closed again.

Noctis watches the steady yet slow rise and fall of his fathers chest and knows his father is alive but resting. Knowing he has done all he can, he rests his head on the edge of the bed and at long last lets himself begin to process everything that had happened in the short span of fifteen minutes. He thinks back to the text message from Gladio. He begins to tremble and fresh tears spring up in his eyes. Is he okay, he wonders. What about Clarus? He knows River shot Cor. Could he be dead? Could they all be dead? What about Ignis, who Noctis knows is somewhere in the citadel, most likely the library. Was he safe? The citadel is most likely on lock-down, but does the public know what has happened yet? Could the media be on the steps, broadcasting the horrors as breaking news? Is Prompto watching in the break room at his part-time diner job sick with worry?

Noctis cries into the bloody sheets. His body shakes and he feels sick and exhausted. He does not know how long it takes, but eventually he cries himself out and numbness settles over him. He does not fall asleep, but he closes his eyes and tries to think of anything but the four bloody deaths he had witnessed, two of which he had caused himself, and the unknown many more outside.

The acoustics in the halls of the citadel are perfect for echos. If such was not the case, Ignis would never have heard the gunfire in time to take cover. As soon as he steppes out of the library, having finished reviewing reports in the peace and quiet there, he heard the reverberation of gunfire and shouting. Immediately he ducks back in and closes the doors as quietly as he can. His first thought, after the initial shock is Noctis. He knows his friend and charge is in His Majesty's personal study for the father and sons weekly bout of chess, which is several floors up. He reaches into his pocket for his phone, but before he can swipe the screen open, it chimes with a text message.

<Gladiolus: stay in tth library. I already text noct to go to the safe room protocol 88d>

Ignis’ eyes widen. Protocol 88-D means that the citadel has been infiltrated and for all personnel not required to fend of the attack to shelter in place if possible. The haphazard style of the message instantly alerted Ignis that Gladio was either in a rush or in distress. Possibly both.

“Bloody Hell,” he swears under his breath. Ignis rarely swears. But he is useless if he dose not remain composed, he tells himself. He begrudgingly reasons that for now he must follow procedure, keep a level head, and hope that His Majesty and His Highness make it to safety unharmed. His phone chimes again, and the message there makes the advisers blood run cold.

<Gladiolus: shit, think Cors dead he was on his way to check on Noct and Regis. No idea where my dad it can u get to the study? Be careful they armed with guns>

Ignis taps out a quick reply.

<Ignis: I’m on my way to them now. Where are you?>

Ignis does not wait for a reply, desperate to get to Noctis and Regis as soon as possible. He quickly and silently slips out of the library. The quickest way to His Majesty's study is in the direction which he had heard the gunfire. He hears nothing anymore, but deems it best not to risk encountering the enemy. He turns the other way, taking the longer but safer rout. He runs, summoning his favorite lance from the armiger mid stride. In his other hand his phone chimes again. He slows just enough to read Gladios reply.

<Gladiolus: locker room, 2 gunmen shot up th trainin hall. Bullet in my leg. Think they already got taken out but not before killing a bunch of cadets. Teres at least 3 more so watch yourself>

Grateful to at least know the threat at hand, Ignis continues onward. He opts to take the stares rather than the elevator. It would be slower going, but if the enemy managed to interfere with power, or if the facility was placed on full lock-down, he would be trapped and unable to perform his duty.

It takes much more time than Ignis would have preferred, but eventually he makes it to the hallway between the study and the gallery outside the throne room. What he sees there makes him stop in his tracks. He swallows down the rising panic and surveys the sight before him in attempt to re-create in his minds eye the scenario that must have played out. A Cownsguard cadet lays dead, apparent from multiple gunshot wounds to the back. To men in civilian cloths lay dead as well, guns in hand. One was obviously run clean through while the other is cut open diagonally across abdomen up to his chest. Five or so yards away is what truly fills Ignis with dread: His Majesty's cane next to a pool of blood.

Ignis shakes and breathes in deeply.

“One of them, most likely Noctis carried out a warp strike and felled the enemy,” Ignis thinks aloud, “While the other, most likely His Majesty, was...”

Ignis tries to remain calm and rational, but he can not help himself thinking the worst: that the King was dead. He runs faster now. He swings open the door to the throne room and his heart jumps when he sees yet another body. He holds his lance at the ready and surveys the room for any sign of danger. Judging the coast clear, he advances, albeit slowly. Relieved he sees that the body is neither the King nor the Prince and only a fleeting thought is given as to why the woman appears to have shot herself in the head. Relief also comes in seeing the panel open, indicating that at least one Lucis-Caelum is in the safe room. Knowing this, he allows himself a moment to catch his breath. Two gunmen in the hall, and one in the throne room accounts for the three Gladio had mentioned. However, not knowing if their could possibly be more that Gladio was unaware of, Ignis takes his pause for only a few seconds before continuing down the hall, following the trail of blood. Not caring that his gloves will now be soiled with the blood smeared across the keypad, he enters the code and pushes through as soon as the door begins to open.

An enormous weight is lifted from Ignis when he sees the King on one of the many beds, obviously severely injured but alive, and Noctis kneeling beside the bed, the Prince himself barely conscious.

“Noctis?”

Noctis lifts his head and opens his eyes. “IGNIS! Thank the Six!” He jumps to his feet and rushes to his friend and adviser throwing his arms around his shoulders.

“I can say the same for you. When I saw the hallway I was...” Ignis returns his friends embrace, but does not allow himself to say anything resembling “worried sick” or “panicked half to death.” Instead he asks, “Tell me what happened.”

Noctis sniffles and pulls away. “Well, I got the text from Gladio...”

Once Noctis has related the full account, from the text to the potions used on Regis, including River and her suicide, Ignis simply nods at first. He approaches Regis and gently feels the Kings forehead. “He’s feverish. There should be something to remedy that here,” he says and kneels by the bed. He opens the black bag Noctis had left their earlier and produces a syringe. He reads the label and nods. “Here it is.”

Ignis places his hand on the Kings shoulder and nudges just firmly enough to get his attention. “Your Majesty?”

Regis groans but does not open his eyes. “Ignis?”

“Yes, Your Majesty. There’s a syringe of antibiotic here. With your permission, I will administer it to you now to prevent any bacteria that was in the wound before it closed from causing infection. It should bring your fever down as well.”

“Do as you see fit. I trust you.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty. Noctis,” Ignis pointed to the bag, “There should be a tourniquet, scissors, and iodine swabs there.”

Noctis nods and searches the bag. Finding the items Ignis requested, he hands them to the adviser.

“Good.” He takes the scissors and cuts the sleeve off of Regis’ shirt and pulls it off of his arm. He then takes the tourniquet and ties it an inch or so above the elbow. He holds out his hand. “Swab.”

“Is this a prime-time medical drama now?” Noctis jokes half-heartedly.

“Ha.” Ignis takes the swab, uncaps it, and cleans a small area on the Kings forearm where he knows from medical records (Ignis knows both the King and Prince’ medical records better than they do) stated was the easiest vein to locate. He uncaps the needle and is careful to clear it of any air bubbles before feeling for a vein. “He’s lost so much blood, I fear this is going to be a bit difficult.”

“He doesn’t need a transfusion, does he?”

Ignis hums thoughtfully. “He would were we in a proper hospital, but unfortunately we haven’t the means here to perform such a procedure. Even if we did, neither of us are a compatible blood type.” If neither of the statements Ignis had made were true, Ignis knows he would drain himself of every last drop of blood for his King, but unfortunately he is unable give him any. Finally he finds a usable vein. He keeps his finger on it and angles the needle just right. “The injection site will burn slightly. If it doesn’t pass in a few seconds, or if the pain is too intense, tell me.” Regis just barely nods and Ignis depresses the plunger on the syringe, noting the Kings grunt of discomfort when the needle pierces his soft skin.

By a strike of luck or divine intervention, the injection goes off with out a hitch despite Ignis having no real first aid experience, his knowledge being purely academic. After removing the needle, Ignis sets is safely aside.

“I...” Noctis’ voice cracks, “I’m sorry, I...I should have thought about the antibiotics I was just-”

“No, Noctis,” Ignis interrupts and pulls him into another hug. “You did splendidly under such chaotic conditions. You kept your wits about you, you used all of your training, and you saved his life.”

“Ignis is right, Noctis.” Regis’ voice is raspy and his eyes remain closed. “You struck down the enemy in both of our defenses, you carried me, you talked River down, you thought logically before treating my injury, even though you were surely distraught. There are no words to express how proud I am of you, Son.”

Noctis takes his fathers hand in his and rests his head on the edge of the bed as he had before.

“Thank you, Dad.”

"Stay by your fathers side, Noct," Ignis says softly. "I'm going to check the cameras and see if I can't get a better overview of the situation."

"Did you here anything about Gladio?" Noctis asks raising his head. "What about Clarus or Cor?"

"Nothing of Clarus. Gladio is injured but it's nothing life-threatening and to my knowledge he's currently safe. As for Cor..." Ignis wonders how much he should tell the already distressed Prince, but settles on honesty as the best policy. "I'm sorry, Noct, but when last I heard from Gladio, he believed the Martial to be dead."

"No..." Noctis shakes his head and burries his face in the bed.

"There's hope yet. Gladio was focused on himself and the cadets, so he may not have seen all that happened. The Martial may still be alive. He's called 'The Immortal' for a reason, after all. Perhaps I can learn more from the surveillance."

When Noctis offers no further reply, Ignis turns his full attention the the multiple screens of the control panel. He first checks on the feed of the training hall where he knows there to have been casualties. He sees what he would expect: people tending to the injured, canvassng the vicinity for more of the enemy, and searching the bodies of the two dead attackers. For obvious reasons there were no cameras in the locker room, so he could not confirm Gladio to still be there. From there he expands his search. In the hall outside, he finds what he had feared: Cor lies motionless on the floor, as does Clarus not far from him. He zooms in on Cor but is unable to asses where all the blood surrounding him is coming from. He shifts his focus to Clarus, who conveniently at this moment raises his hand to a wound the back of his head.

"I see Cor and Clarus," Ignis announces. "I fear Gladio may have been right about the Martial, but Clarus is alive, albeit injured." When he receives no reply, he turns his head and finds that Noctis has fallen asleep, still clutching his fathers hand. Normally Ignis would chastise the young Prince for napping mid-day, but today he more than needs his rest. He considers waking him long enough to move him to a bed least Noctis strain his back is such an awkward position, but doubts he could convince Noctis to leave his fathers side. Ignis considers eight years prior where their positions had been revered. He had not been there when the Marilith sent by the Empire had nearly killed Noctis, but he had geared from those who were that Regis sat up many sleepless nights by his sons bed.

As satisfiedvas he can be with the states of the King and Prince, Ignis turns his attention back to the camera feeds, watching as the events he laments he can not control unfold.

Clarus can barely see more than spots of light when he slowly blinks his eyes open. The last thing he remembers is the gunfire coming from the training room where he had gone to wait for Gladio in hoped of having lunch with him later, texting Regis, trying to get to him, and then... Then a shot and not much else. He groans and raises a hand to the back of his head, wincing when he feels the wound there. He looks at his hand to see his fingers covered in sticky, half dried blood.When his vision clears he sees Cor prone on one side in the middle of the hall, blood pooled around him.

"Cor!" he shouts to his friend, who does not respond. Not trusting his legs just yet, Clarus crawls across the marble floor to Cors side and turns him on his back. He gasps when he sees it: the gunshot wound low in his abdomen. "Cor!" he repeats louder, shaking his shoulder gently. "COR!" He touches blood-soaked fingers to the Martials neck. Panic strikes when he feels the weak pulse beat once, twice, and stop. The Shield reaches out to the armiger and summons the one thing he knows can bring his comrade back from the brink of death. Praying to every Astral that it works, he wraps Cors hand around the soft glowing phoenix down. He releases a breath he had not realized he had been holding when ethereal fire spreads over the near-deadly wound, the feather dissipates, and Cor begins to rouse.

"You can't scare me like that, old friend," Clarus says when Cor slowly opens his eyes.

Cor does not acknowledge Clarus' concern. "That woman," he groans, "She's headed for the King and Prince. She means to kill them both."

"I alerted Regis to get himself and Noctis to safety. Hopefully they made it. Come with me to see to them? Are you well enough? You're wounds are healed but you have still lost a lot of blood."

Cor notices the blood from Clarus' head wound trickling down the side of his face. "I could ask the same of you. Perhaps two injured old men can make it to them together.

Using each other for support, Clarus and Cor manage to find their footing. Clarus summons two swords, one for himself and one for Cor, as well as a potion for his own wound. "In case we run into trouble."

"Good idea."

Ignis watches the screens with relief as Clarus and Cor make their way through the empty halls. Upon checking other cameras, he finds no sign of more intruders. He wishes the walls of the bunker did not block cellphone signal so that he could contact someone who would have more information. Perhaps Captain Drautos or Cors second in command Monica.

He returns to Noct's side and combs his fingers through disheveled black hair. "Noct," he says gently.

Noctis opens his eyes slowly, a good sign to Ignis that Noctis was at least getting some much needed sleep. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. As a matter of fact, I woke you to tell you that I've seen Clarus and Cor on the cameras. They’re both alive and on their way to us as we speak.

"That's great! Did you hear that, Dad?" Panic strikes when Regis does not respond or even move. "Dad?"

Ignis checks the Kings pulse from his wrist. "He appears to be stable for now," Ignis assures Noctis. "He's a heavy sleeper. Must run in the family." Noctis chuckles in spite of himself and Ignis allows himself a smile as well. "That, among other things," Ignis added with a distinct note of pride.

"Ignis are we..." Noctis hesitated. "We're going to be okay, right?"

"Of course, Noct. Everything will be alright."

For the first time sense this entire nightmare began, they both actually believe that.

Noctis startles awake. He had dozed off in his waiting room chair again. He looks down at the phone in his lap.

<Prompto: U sure you’re ok tho? I’ve read stuff about ppl being injured and not even knowing bc adrenaline and stuff>

It hadn’t taken long after the first shot had been fired for the media to catch wind of the attack, and not much longer after that for Prompto to bombard Noctis’ phone with massages. So after being extracted and escorted by Cor and Clarus, hearing Captain Drautos confirm that the citadel was clear, seeing that Gladio and his father were both in surgery, Noctis made quick work of consoling his terrified friend friend and assuring Prompto that he was, in fact, alive.

<Noctis: The doctors checked me, Prom. Twice. I’m ok>

<Prompto: So ur dads in surgery, right? What about everyone else? Gladio? Iggy? Promise not to leak anything, lol>

<Noctis: lol, its cool. Gladio got shot in the leg but it missed the big artery so he’ll be ok. Just gotta patch him up. Cor almost died but thank the Astrals for magic feathers yk>

<Prompto: Hu?>

<Noctis: Lol, nm. Anyway Iggy didnt get hurt at all and Gladio’s dad got lucky, bullet grazed the back of his head>

<Prompto: STFU! Dude, I thought that shit only happened in bad action flicks!>

Noctis spared a chuckle for that comment. He was about to reply when a nurse caught his attention.

“Your Highness?” she says with a subtle bow.

Noctis stands and slips his phone into his pocket. “Is my dad okay?” he asks, forgoing formalities.

The nurse smiles, setting Noctis’ mind at ease. “His Majesty has been released from surgery. It looks like he’ll make a full recovery.”

Noctis feels a rush of relief. “Thank you.”

“Of course, Your Highness. His Majesty is still resting, but you can go in if you’d like. I believe his Shield is with him already.”

When Noctis arrives in Regis’ hospital room (which is guarded by two Kingsglaive) Clarus is in face there sitting on the edge of the bed, the king’s right hand held gently between his own. He smiled and nods to Noctis but does not move from his place; he knows Noctis does not expect him to bow.

“He’ll be like this for a few hours at least,” Clarus says. “You should find somewhere comfortable to rest in the mean time. You must be exhausted.”

Noctis shrugs. “I’m always tiered, but I can sleep pretty much anywhere. Just ask Ignis.”

Clarus laughs. “I suppose that chair in the corner would suit you then.”

Noctis sits in said chair and pulls his phone from his pocket. “Not to bad for hospital furniture. It’ll do.” He taps out a quick message to Prompto before closing his eyes and dosing off again.

<Noctis: Dad’s out, gonna be ok gtg talk later>

“… assures Noctis and me that all of the intruders were eliminated. They are not believed to be part of a larger terrorist organization at this time, but a full investigation is underway.”

Noctis wakes up to the sound of Ignis apparently debriefing his father on the attack. Now awake, Regis nods slowly. “Thank you Ignis.”

“Hey, Iggy,” Noctis greets groggily and leans forward to stretch his back, cramped from being seated in an awkward position.

“Sorry to wake you, Noct. I’d meant to let you rest.”

“’s okay. Have you gotten any sleep yet?”

“No, I haven’t. Keeping up with the conditions of His Majesty, Gladio, Martial Liones...”

“...is not your job,” Noctis interrupts. “Will you please rest? You need to take care of yourself, too.”

Ignis, who is visibly exhausted with dark circles under his eyes, disheveled hair and a disconcerting pallor to his face, sighs. “I suppose you’re right. It has been a trying day.” Ignis bowed to the King. “Good evening, Your Majesty. As you can see I’ve been instructed to take my leave.

Regis nods with a small half-smile. “Rest, Ignis. And again, thank you for everything.”

Once Noctis is alone with his father, he moves from his seat in the corner to the edge of the bed and sits where Clarus had been a few hours earlier.

“So how are you feeling?” Noctis asks.

“Groggy and sore, but alive thanks to you and Ignis.”

For reasons he can not understand, Noctis is unable to look at his father and instead chooses a spot on the tile floor to fix his eyes on. “I… I didn’t really...” He sighs heavily. The days stress and trauma wells up in him all at once, and tears sting his eyes. “I killed three people, and then you got hurt and I couldn’t save River and I… I was so scared I just...” A single tear destroys the floodgates and Noctis sobs out loud. It is embarrassing, weeping freely on his fathers hospital bed but he was to emotionally exhausted to contain what had been building and welling up just beneath the surface of his composure for nearly seven hours.

“Noctis,” Regis says softly, “it’s alright that you were afraid. I was afraid, too. When River had that gun pointed at you I felt terror you cannot imagine. I’ve felt that fear before and I never want to feel it again. You are my child, Noctis. I feared for you, for Gladiolus, for Ignis, Clarus, Cor. So please, my son. Don’t feel ashamed that you were afraid and don’t feel ashamed of your tears. Cry them privately and be stronger for them.”

Noctis sniffles and wipes his face with the backs of his hands. “I don’t want to lose you, dad. I know I act like I’m mad at you all the time, but that’s just because It makes me sad and it makes me scared to see you. I know what the ring and the wall are doing to you! I know guarding Insomnia is literally killing you and I hate it! I hate that I can’t help you. But today I thought I could. Today I thought I could keep you safe, but I...”

They stay in heavy silence for a few minutes. “Son. I understand. You have a kind and gentle heart, and I believe that is one of the reasons the Crystal chose you. You can’t bare to see those you love suffer. But the burden of the wall is the burden of a King. It is a burden I accept. And it is a burden that someday...” Regis took Noctis’ hand and their eyes met. “… you will lift. Because you are the True King, Noctis. And if what I saw today is any indication, the future of Insomnia, Lucis, and all of Eos, will be very bright. For everything you are, and everything you are meant to be, I am proud of you, my son. And I love you.”

Mindful of Regis’s wound, Noctis leans down to embrace his father, who offers a week embrace in return with the arm not connected to IV chords. Fresh tears escape his eyes and soak the shoulder of Regis’ hospital gown. It may be at an awkward angle and in the aftermath of a tragedy, but it it the warmest and safest Noctis has ever felt.

“I love you too, Dad.”

#dungeon's writing #ffxv #fanfic #gen fic #tw: gun violence #mass shooting #gunshot wound #tw: suidice #now that my mandatory tags are done #let me gush over this fic #and tell a bit of its story #of all my fics this one is the one I'm most proud of #I love this fic #but it almost didn't get finished #it was on hiatus for a while due to my busy life at the time #I started working on it again and finished the last two chapters #but before I could post it there was the big florida school shooting that got mass news coverage #I couldn't update directly after something like that so I held onto the chapters for about a month #the message I was trying to send with the fic was hope in the midst of tragedy #I feel like the conclusion of this fic actually came at the perfect time #because in the midst of irl tragedy #we all need a reminder #even if it's a small one #that there is always hope #I will not discuss my stance on guns or gun control

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pamphletstoinspire · 6 years ago

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SAINT KATERI TEKAKWITHA: PRINCESS OF THE EUCHARIST

For many years, American Catholics who wanted to follow in the footsteps of a saint had to travel to Europe. In Assisi, they could step where Saint Francis did. In Ireland, they might walk the byways of Saint Patrick.

It wasn’t until the late-20th-century canonizations of Sister Elizabeth Ann Seton, born in New York City in 1774, and Sister Katharine Drexel, born in Philadelphia in 1858, that Americans finally had the opportunity to stay in the country when visiting places where U.S.-born saints lived and worked.

But the Big Apple and the City of Brotherly Love have changed significantly since the 18th and 19th centuries. In contrast, a virtually unspoiled place trod by a saint lies in upstate New York, thanks to the October 21 canonization of Kateri Tekakwitha, who walked and prayed in what is now the central part of the Empire State. In her time, it was the land of the Mohawks.

TRIBUTE TO THE NATIVE DAUGHTER

By making a trip to the Albany Diocese, people can visit two places associated with this Native American woman. The National Kateri Tekakwitha Shrine, located in Fonda, New York, and operated by the Conventual Franciscans, honors Saint Kateri’s baptismal site, while the Jesuit-run Shrine of Our Lady of Martyrs in Auriesville, New York, marks her birthplace.

The landscape where Kateri walked and prayed hasn’t changed, nor has the meaning of her life, according to Bishop Howard J. Hubbard of the Albany Diocese. Earlier this year, in the diocesan newspaper, The Evangelist, Bishop Hubbard paid tribute to the native daughter: “Despite the pristine simplicity of the civilization [Kateri] experienced and the rather drab ordinariness of her life, there are . . . some important lessons to be drawn from her pilgrim journey of faith,” he said.

First, she was “a woman who understood well and accepted with patient resignation the mystery of the Cross, that mystery which proclaims that our faith is founded on . . . the paradox of death leading to life; the paradox of suffering leading to glory; the paradox of defeat and failure leading to victory.”

Second, continued Bishop Hubbard, Saint Kateri was “a woman of magnificent fortitude, dogged determination, and unswerving conviction. A lesser person might well have yielded to the pressure . . . to squelch that thirst for the God of the Christians, which the Holy Spirit had so copiously stirred up in her heart.”

Finally, he said, Kateri was “a woman of great prayer, a woman who had a deep and abiding awareness of the Lord’s love for her and an ongoing personal relationship with him.”

COMMEMORATING THE CANONIZATION

Since its origin in 1847, the Albany Diocese has commemorated Kateri in several ways. Both the Knights of Columbus and the Catholic Daughters of the Americas have chapters dedicated to her. A diocesan program carries her name: Kateri Institute for Lay Ministry Formation. Most recently, two parishes that merged in Schenectady eschewed creating a portmanteau name from the titles of the former parishes and elected to become St. Kateri Church.

The two national shrines annually host multiple events that involve Native American Catholics. This year, the National Kateri Tekakwitha Shrine celebrated the saint’s feast day on July 14 with Native American rituals and songs. “I wanted to be in the place where she lived, where she was baptized, and where she is still honored,” said Eddie Ryder of Bay Shore, a town on Long Island. “I’m part Native American, and I’ve always wanted to come here and really feel Kateri’s presence.”

As Franciscan Father Mark Steed prepared to celebrate the feast-day Mass in a rustic pavilion on the shrine’s 200 acres of wooded land on the bank of the Mohawk River, he explained the significance of Kateri’s canonization for Native American Catholics. “It authenticates who they are as a people and who she was as an individual living all of those numbers of years ago,” he told Catholic News Service. “It gathers them in now to the whole Church. So they’re not sitting on the fringe. Now they are part of the inner circle.”

Four days later, more than 800 Native American Catholics from throughout North America flocked to the Albany Diocese to attend the 73rd annual Tekakwitha Conference. Holding the conference in Albany was a lucky stroke—or the intercession of a soon-to-be saint — because the event had been slated well before the canonization was announced. The conference, based in Great Falls, Montana, was started in 1939 as a way to unify Native American Catholics from different tribes across the United States.

Participants included members of the Mohawk, Choctaw, Algonquin, Navajo, Ojibwa, and other tribes. They listened to presentations ranging from the connection of Mother Earth and fracking to Native Catholic genealogy and a talk on Kateri as “a princess of the Eucharist.” Throughout the conference the smell of burning sweetgrass — known among native peoples as the “hair of Mother Earth” — wafted through Masses as congregants approached altars, offering corn, beans, and squash with the Eucharist.

Conference executive director Sister Kateri Mitchell, SSA, a Mohawk, said that the organization’s members, as well as other native peoples, routinely return to where the new saint was born and baptized because “there’s something intriguing about Kateri. She was born way back in the mid-17th century and died 24 years later. But in 2012, people still remember this Indian woman.”

WALKING ON HOLY GROUND

Sister Kateri’s own introduction to the new saint occurred when she was a child named Delia; she grew up on the St. Regis Mohawk Reservation, which straddles upstate New York and Canada. “My father would say on some mornings, ‘Let’s go back home.’ By ‘home,’ he meant the Mohawk Valley—Fonda and Auriesville,” she recalled. “He said that even though he had never lived there. The Mohawk people had not lived there for centuries. My father would tell the story of our people when we were there. It was like walking on holy ground.”

As the years passed, she came to love the shrines as much as her father did. “They attracted me,” she explained, and then echoed her father by saying, “It was like going home.”

Eventually, she entered religious life and chose Kateri as her name. When her order later permitted its members to return to their baptismal names, she consulted her parents. “My mother and father said, ‘Keep Kateri.’ It’s a very special name to me. I’m a Kateri more than a Delia.”

The uniqueness of the Kateri sites in upstate New York, she says, is that “they are so beautiful. Nature itself captivates you. People have told me they go there annually because they find a connection with nature and Kateri. It’s very peaceful and sacred. Saint Kateri calls people to deepen their own spiritual lives.”

In 1987, while visiting the United States, Pope John Paul II called Kateri “the best-known witness of Christian holiness among the native people of North America. . . . She always remained . . . a true daughter of her people, following her tribe in the hunting seasons and continuing her devotions in the environment most suited to her way of life, before a rough cross carved by herself in the forest. The Gospel of Jesus Christ, which is the great gift of God’s love, is never in contrast with what is noble and pure in the life of any tribe or nation, since all good things are his gifts.”

Sister Kateri believes that those good gifts include Saint Kateri and the land her people loved, where today’s Catholics can walk in her footsteps.

A SHORT HISTORY OF SAINT KATERI

When Kateri Tekakwitha was proclaimed Saint Kateri Tekakwitha on October 21, she became the first member of a North American tribe to be declared a saint. “The Lily of the Mohawks,” Kateri was born in 1656 in a village along the Mohawk River called Ossernenon, now known as Auriesville, New York. Her father was a Mohawk chief, her mother a Christian Algonquin raised among the French.

When Kateri was 4, a smallpox epidemic claimed her parents and baby brother. She survived, but her face was disfigured and her vision impaired. She was raised by her anti-Christian uncle, who began to plan her marriage. But after meeting with Catholic priests, Kateri decided to be baptized.

Following her Baptism by a Jesuit missionary in 1676 at age 20, Kateri’s family and village ostracized and ridiculed her. She fled the next year to Canada, taking refuge at St. Francis Xavier Mission in the Mohawk Nation at Caughnawaga on the St. Lawrence River, about 10 miles from Montreal, and made her first Communion on Christmas in 1677.

Kateri astounded the Jesuits with her deep spirituality and her devotion to the Blessed Sacrament. She took a private vow of virginity and devoted herself to teaching prayers to the children and helping the sick and elderly of Caughnawaga.

She died in 1680 at age 24. According to eyewitnesses, the scars on her face suddenly disappeared after her death. Soon after, Catholics started to claim that favors and miracles had been obtained through her intercession. Native Americans have made appeals to the Catholic Church for her recognition since at least the late 1800s.

Documentation for Kateri’s sainthood cause was sent to the Vatican in 1932. She was declared venerable in 1942 and in 1980 was beatified by Pope John Paul II.

Records for the final miracle needed for her canonization were sent to the Vatican in July 2009. It involved the full recovery of a young boy in Seattle whose face had been disfigured by flesh-eating bacteria and who almost died from the disease. His family, who is part Native American, had prayed for Kateri’s intercession. On December 19, 2011, Pope Benedict XVI signed the decree recognizing the miracle, clearing the way for Kateri’s canonization.

Written by: James Breig

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