#oc: tyr

[ghost-qwq]

ok here's an art dump... I haven't been posting because i forgor </3

I love my ocs guys haha.......... what in da world....

[honted]

the thing is tyr and lowe are both orphans but in different countries and Tyr was raised right but Lowe was not

[honted]

the embroidery on his little pants...

me and @honted's eberron ocs but they're babies

[dodddraws]

I made a guy… He’s an informant and Proximus apologist

[sleepyconfusedpotato]

Hello sleepy!

I see youre a big fan for god of war and i just wanna say;

"I have an OC to be paired to my big man Tyr because LOOK AT HIM! Vast green forest in man, ngl.*

Anw im so very curious about your OC story w Heimdall bcos i rlly want to believe that he deserve better😌

Anw here's my OC, hope you will like it💃🏽💃🏽

Hello There!! (。・∀・)ノ

YAAAY ANOTHER GOD OF WAR FAN!!! 💙💙💙 WOOHOO!

Your OC's design looks so good WOW! Wanna know more about her for sure, and with Tyr hm? 👁️👄👁️

Please cook more I wanna EAT IT.

Anyway, I can't free draw too much rn but here's a sketch of Heimdall and Silja reading under the shades (❁´◡`❁)

Silja used to be the Princess of Alfheim, often visiting Asgard for diplomatic stuff. She befriended Heimdall there! However, Odin happened and both of them became distant. Only in the events of GoW Ragnarok did they meet again 👁️👁️

We keepin the GoW fandom alive here LET'S GO

[she-whatshername]

Tyrrish Men Headcanons you didn't ask for

Getting ready to post the first chapter of 'Drifted' this week and I've just been headcanoning (is this a word, lol) what Bodhi would be like in a relationship. Knowing he's brothers related to Xaden and a Tyr I think he'd be similar and, in some cases, worse than Xaden haha. I'm listing them out and trying not to give too much away for when I publish 'Drifted' but maybe this will entice you to read it lol

Bodhi in Relationships

Like Xaden, Would 100% have pet names for his S/O, but It would be in Tyrrsih and not the common language. I can absolutely see this man calling you ' my darling' or ' my lover'. We love a sweet with a lil possessive mix man, don't we? Even if you had a 'violence' like nickname, it would still be in Tyrrish.

This man is unbelievably patient. You would set the pace for the relationship; he would be at your sides through any trauma you may have or face. He's really observant of emotional cues and just knows the right thing to say and when. He's the Voice of Reason for the revolution and would probably be your voice of reason too. He is not the person to share reckless ideas with.

Unlike Xaden he's not secretive, but he's boundaried, which may read the same to some, I think differently. I don't see him lying or omitting stuff but would say. "I wish I could tell you more, but I can't. I know that isn't what you want to hear right now."

Would absolutely be about PDA. Unlike Xaden who's more behind closed doors in most cases, Bodhi would be public about it. Discrete, but public. Examples would be standing next to you in Battle Brief and touching shoulders, would give a gift or two in public, or put a hand on your knee if you were sitting next to eachother. I do think if he was around very close friends or people he trusted he may get a little handsy.

Which leads me to, he's an ass man. He would 100% take a pinch or a handful when walking past you but would do with such subliminalness no one would even notice he did it but you. And, because he's a fucking angel, no one would believe you.

I think there is a cultural thing that Tyrrish men are mostly tall, built, handsome and a little egotistical about it (I explore this theory HEAVILY in 'Drifted') so I think he was made aware growing up that he was handsome and is a bit of a charmer. I don't think its to a Xaden Garrick level (literally peacocks in human form), but he knows he fine and uses it to fluster you sometimes.

Also my made up cultural thing about Tyrrish folk is they go HARD for their partners. They are all in, fly or die, you jump I jump etc. Which is why I think that Bodhi's "Who hurt you" moment would be 10 times worse than Xaden. Like, if someone hurt his S/O and he found out...He would display such vengeance it would probably scare Xaden. In fact, he'd probably make sure Bodhi would be the last person to find out his S/O got hurt.

I think Bodhi has equal parts trauma as Xaden does and it comes out in his relationships. So their partner needs to prepare for that.

Just my thoughts, what do y'all think? Also, check out Drifted when its out.

[tixdixl]

AU where Kingsley overblots

~~~

I finally finished this after months of work. On the one hand, I am proud of so much of this. On the other hand, I know I got lazy with the background and know it could be better. But with as drained as I have been, this is about as good as I can do right now.

Regardless, it's done. And I'm happy that it's off my plate.

When I had originally conceptualized Kingsley, he was set to Overblot. But the flaw, and I knew this from the start, was that if he specifically were to Overblot, the circumstances would be such that it would kill him. The canon has shown us how important it is having someone else pull you out of this state before it consumes you. But if Kingsley were to Overblot? He would have no one. And no one would step in to stop him. It would consume him. And for that reason, I realized it would have to be an AU. I really... don't want Kingsley to die, at least not like this. ^^;

Tag list: @ramshacklerumble @elenauaurs @rainesol @inmateofthemind @thehollowwriter

@cyanide-latte @blithesharem @theleechyskrunkly @boopshoops @starry-night-rose

Lmk if you want added/removed

[thydonutart]

A Norse God and a Greek Goddess walk into a tavern - there is music, dancing, cheering and the rest is history... 💃

Lil gift for @sleepingmire [who Julius belongs to!]

[ganymede-g]

new god of war oc just dropped

hafnar is týr’s kid, but he’s nothing like him. he absolutely sucks at being diplomatic, can be pretty tone deaf, and has no problem beating people up. an overall well-adapted individual if i do say so myself!!

[kipcobblestone]

ASGARD’S FAVORITE BOYS!

🌟🖋️💌🐺⛈️

Anyways I needed a little tap into digital stuff cause I’m gonna be working on a logo for my friend and I thought drawing them would help me a bit. And this was a silly Chibi I sketched forever ago that im still obsessed with!! They’ve all finally got colors…

Btw I designed Baldur, Vidar, and Thor and @clusterpuppy designed Hermod and Hodur!! :D

[sugary-spider]

Whats ur take on wambus.... I need more

..I don't have a lot of takes, but wambus I love him so much. A lot of never ask me for my takes on here../silly

WARNING : AXEL FUCKING RANTS A TON

I hate how hes mainly seen as this evil angry guy or just grumpy (mad yk) and its like..Yuck..A lot of people just would rather only view triffany as this saint and wambus is this evil bad guy. Sure hes mad lookin but like..Thats like saying filbo is dumb when he isn't, sure hes an sweet hyperactive guy thats prone to accidents but he isn't dumb. Thats an grown fucking man y'all.

I loved how he missed triffany so fucking much, he made an cactus literally look like her and as well as would basically (even from the one or two moments we seen it in gameplay) tell cactriffy about his day. And Y'ALL. Cactriffy is literally just cactus + triffy,, which is the nickname he gave to triffany!! And at best, you can just see how much he loves triffany from that and so much more.

Triffany work requires her to be away a lot, which is understandable but her and wambus literally had an farm together and wambuses whole issue was property and money. Farms are extremely hard to take care of, especially even with just two people. Wambus is an stubborn guy, and he loves his wife. He probably took care of that farm all by himself while triffany was away. I understand if y'all don't understand how farm and ranches are, but they're just..So hard to take care of. Especially with how utilities and so much more costs.

(this is coming from someone who just knows someone an good few ppl who like..literally grew up on an farm 60/40% of their lives this just me blabberin about that yk so my bad if I don't get the whole picture right. But like..Farms/ranches are so HARD to take care of unless you know what to do and such!! Like farms cost around 600 - 10000+)

So just imagine with how that feels, especially with how we know wambus is so okay with triffany going off on her own dreams while he was kinda struggling with his. He started an farm on the island because it was "more cheaper on mainland" and hes right, even if everyone was kinda shitting on him about it. But thats like his dream, and so much more. I like to even think wambus came from an huge or generational line of farmers, ranchers, just country-side work basically. Which would also make so much more sense in an way to understand how Wambus would understand heavily and support his wife on her journey and job of being an archeologist while also trying to find out what happend to her mom. Im not gonna shit on triffany either, but like. You gotta understand how wambus feels, he probably (and I think he did!! Pretty sure he did) lost the farm. And like I said, I like to think the farm was an family farm that was past down onto him. And he lost it.

I know triffany would try to console her husband, but she also now had to be this bread winner because of wambus losing this huge money maker but then just also caving underneath it due to all these taxes and so much more, that the list is just too much. Plus they're both workaholics so she probably never stayed long to console him or help him, only when she had to stay in an way she would or try to.

"Hes such an violent and angry guy! Triffany should leave him, hes so mean and-" Are we talking about the same guy? Cause NO WE ARE NOT?? He most likely has emotional dysregulation which is caused by stress!! And he just WENT through an stressful time period of his life!! (Stole this hc from an lovely bro ham of mine -> @loched-off 💪😼)

Also fear of failure. That can and is implied to be most reasons WHYYY he lashes out and hes always regretful of his actions by the way. Like when filbo got launched by an bunger due to his causing by throwing sauce at him,, and he was literally so regretful of it. Even asked the journalist to PLEASE check up on poor filbo.

Not to mention, probably due to his failure fears present and past, is kinda why people can see how triffany and wambus dynamic is 50/50 of great and needs some work.

But even then, triffany doesn't mean it. Shes looking out for wambus best interests, especially with how she knows wambus hates failure and hates failing so badly. Especially with how.hes gonna lash out, and view it as anything more than bugsnax not growing. He just lost his farm, something he worked so hard on. And now hes losing his little thesis of bugsnax growing..

And he did. He was so heart broken, and his voice you can just TELL this mans heart shattered into billions of peaces. Even if he has an not so hyperactive and has monotone tone in his voice, you can just..Still tell hes heart broken. He started giving up on HIMSELF, and hes STUBBORN Y'ALL.

DO YOU KNOW. HOW HARD,, AN STUBBORN PERSON HAS TO HIT ROCK BOTTOM TO BE LIKE..

"My hopes and all my work, was all for nothing. Im just an big ole failure."

Y'ALL. THIS MAN HAD ME CRYING AND NEEDING TO TAKE FIVE (You can tell im like..maybe more a wamby fan than a triffy one..I lobe blue hair and prns farmers....)

I like to think he also was made fun of for his feelings back then. Especially cause of like..Of grumpus world is like our world, him as an man would've been definitely made fun of for crying. Especially if this is..Something so heavy and meaningful to him,, he was definitely sobbing and pouring his heart out but only to be made fun of. Or had his problems seen as something so little..

And triffany *may* had accidentally had some help in it in an way, since she worked so much due to being an workalcoholic and its her passion. She loves archeology and wambus could never ever in an million years deny his wife of her happiness like she could never deny wambus his. Even though, that ended up with them fighting. Especially wambus putting his foot down on not wanting to be somewhere he can't grow plants other than cacti. Especially if he was so hyperfocused on sauce plants, and only ones that grow there are hot sauce or cheese,, but we seen wambus grow an wide variety. He wouldn't really wanna just only ever be able to grow two types of sauce plants.

Also just supperr self indulgent,, I like to think he has one or two actual degrees in some sort of botany or farm work..Plus hess ermm Audhd cause I said so. Sorry NOT sorry. <3

Also, I have an BUNCH. Of wambus hcs :3

-> Wambus is hispanic,, (You can pick whatever one, just I like mexican wambus a lot..)

-> Knows spanish, especially cause he lived in an heavy spanish speaking area.

-> Always worked on an farm/countryside, he loves talking about his childhood. You can tell by how much he smiles when talking about it

-> An shy kid in public due to his family always wanting him to speak english heavily in school, but was an rowdy kid that would say curses in spanish

-> He LOVES dogs and cats. He had an hunting dog when he was little, also talks about that dog a lot. Her name was brownie .. Had an barn cat or two, both were name Charolette and Scarlett.. :3

-> Was held back an grade or two, only because of how he worked more than was in school. But he isn't dumb, hes slicker than a fox.

-> he is TEXAN. Take it or leave it /silly

-> Hes an introvert extrovert heavily. Just due to people getting off putted by his natural 'bitch face' a lot of people don't talk to him.

-> Knows a lot about death, especially since he lived on an farm. One of his jobs he would've been fine with is an flower guy for funerals.

-> He *has* an childhood gothic friend. They talk alottt.. (is this based an oc x canon dynamic from me and my partners au?..Maybe..You'll never know sorry not sorry)

-> Due to the two other hcs,, its also how triffany was drawn to him heavily. Just..so heavily, cause he never overreacted to her funfacts and really really gruesome and horrifically details facts other than asking more about it. Cause he genuinely wanted to know.

-> I will NEVER. Give up my most famous hc of wambus being an girl dad.

-> Hes also really good with kids surprisingly. Even though his back would be hurting so much, he will teach kids how to climb trees safely or not, and go on and on about his own childhood stories. Once taught/told an kid about the time he ran away from bees. Spent the day helping the lil' kiddo try to find an bee hive before an accident happend and they both ended up stung badly.

-> He loves summer and spring..Especially spring, he gets so giddy about it.

-> Youngest. He is the baby of his family, was always picked on but is now the strongest between them. Gets called little blue or baby ox tho. They make fun of him but hes gotten used to it..💔

Thats it..Just I LOVEEE wambus. Ty for asking my opinion on him..Hes my favorite and I genuinely wish people loved him just as much as people loved triffany..

[bisexualshanks]

BIRTHDAY TYRSHANKS BLAST

[dragons-bones]

FFXIV Write Entry #29: Only the Good Die Young

Prompt: thanatopsis (free write) || Master Post || On AO3 (coming in October)

A/N: Sooooo you remember how I was mildly bummed at the end of last year's FFXIV Write because the prompt could not at all fit the idea I had wanted to cap the challenge off with?

This is that idea.

---

The King of Ruin was dead and it should have been a momentous, joyous day.

Instead, as news of Theodoric’s death at the hands of the Resistance spread through Ala Mhigo and its citizens began to raggedly cheer, the clouds had parted above the city, and Garlean airships had begun raining down blue fire. And while the city shook and cheering turned to screams, someone opened the Ghimlyt Gate, and the ranks of the XIVth Legion entered the city.

No matter what the Ala Mhigans did, their city would fall. Five years of the Mad King’s rule had drained Ala Mhigo of her vitality; the Resistance had broken the Corpse Brigade, but they had neither the numbers nor the experience to stand against the Black Wolf. There would be no throwing back the Garlean advance.

But every warrior and mage still capable of fighting could ensure as many people escaped as possible.

And so, Tyr Greywolfe raced through the family manor, doing a final check of each room to ensure no one was left behind.

The last of the servants, including little Synnove’s nanny and the housekeeper, had slipped away a few days ago as the tension preceding the king’s overthrow began to reach its crescendo, fleeing the city should the Resistance fail. But there was always the chance one might have returned to fetch a forgotten belonging, or that someone was trying to seek shelter as ceruleum fell from the sky and destroyed walls and homes and history. Today, at least, every room was empty.

Maybe one day they wouldn’t be.

Tyr flew down the hallways, through the entrance hall, and out of the front doors so fast that his sheathed blades slapped bruises into his thighs even with being safely strapped down. His mother’s gardens were trampled and ruined, but he doubted her ghost would mind; their widower neighbor, Walcher Steelwolfe (cadet branch of a completely unrelated House Wolfe that had long since died out), had brought his chocobo carriage, and he was soothing both frightened birds as Havardr and Father got the women and children into the back. The roar of cannons echoed overhead and the clash of swords came from the east; the Wolf’s Den was one of the neighborhoods closest to the Ghimlyt Gate, and the XIVth was trying to push further in.

“House is clear!” Tyr called out.

His goodsister was carefully moving into the back of the carriage to allow the rest of the family onboard; he saw her clutching a satchel that he knew was full of important documentation, and hoped that Isolde’s foresight wouldn’t be needed in the coming days and sennights. Faramund was lifted up after her, but Father paused briefly to pull his only grandson into a crushing hug. The boy clutched back desperately; he was just old enough to have an inkling that today might be the last time he received such a hug.

Tyr darted across the yard to join his family, heart in his throat. Faramund was now up on the edge of the carriage, but his nephew leaned over and Tyr obligingly pulled him into his own hug.

“Love you, Uncle,” Faramund choked out, voice muffled by his face in Tyr’s leathers and another cannon shot exploding just blocks away.

“Love you, too, Far,” Tyr said, pulling back and ruffling his hair, turning to the others as Faramund followed after his mother.

Eydis was right there, head at his chin, and gods, how quickly she had grown. Nearly eighteen and his spitting image: dark brown skin, deep red hair, hawk’s nose and thin lips. But her eyes were the same green as his mother’s rather than Greywolfe gold and right now, they were filling with tears. Even more than her cousin, Eydis knew.

His daughter, his only child, crashed into him, and Tyr could do nothing except hold her as tight as he could as she sobbed into his neck.

“I love you, Papa,” she said. “Please, please…”

“I love you, Eydis,” he said, hoarse with emotion. “You are the best thing I ever helped put into this world. I will always be proud of you.”

Another sob heaved through her and Tyr pressed a kiss to her temple. After long moments, they drew apart; Eydis’s eyes were red-rimmed and still streaming, but a steely determination had descended upon her.

Tyr wiped the tears off her cheeks and held her face in his hands. And then he helped her up into the carriage.

Little Synnove had already been carefully placed into the carriage bed by her father, but she stared up at him with the same huge green eyes his daughter had. Her favorite plush wolf—sewn for her by his mother—was clutched tightly under her arm, but she reached for him with the other. Tyr gathered her close, gentle as always with her even as he made his hug as fierce as possible. With her nanny gone, Synnove had slept the last few nights with himself and Angharad, tucked safely between them and even joined by Eydis as initial clashes between the Corpse Brigade and the Resistance had echoed through the streets. But his niece had always been one of the bright spots of his life and she had always been frightfully smart; her solemnity now would be unusual on any other five-year old.

“Love you very much, Synnove-cub,” he whispered to her. “Be good for your ma and da and aunt.”

“Love you, Unca Tyr,” she lisped, then drew away to be scooped up into Eydis’s arms.

Angharad was next to him now, and Tyr took a moment to drink in the sight of his wife.

Strong shoulders and straight spine and light steps, trained in Gyr Abanian dance, Angharad was grace personified. Her chestnut hair had a few stray greys hiding at the temples and her dark eyes, normally laughing and bright, regarded him now with resigned grief.

His wife reached for him and Tyr took her hands in his, raising them to his lips to kiss the knuckles of the right, then the left, and then Angharad lunged forward.

Their kiss was messy, and desperate, and tasted faintly of the salt that Angharad had cried earlier but refused to let fall now. Twenty years of passion and love and joys and sorrows and mistakes and triumphs; Tyr tried to put it all into the kiss, arms tight around her waist even as her hands stroked through his hair. When they drew apart at last, they rested their foreheads together and stared into one another’s eyes.

“I will love you long after the stars grow cold,” Tyr said to the love of his life.

“And I will love you even when the memory of stars is gone from creation,” Angharad said thickly, finishing the familiar refrain.

Tyr put his hands on her waist and lifted her up into the carriage bed, as easy as when he had lifted her onto the stage for their first dance at their wedding. Angharad cupped his face in her hands, staring at him with the same solemnity has Synnove had as she memorized him. Then she dropped her hands, and stepped backwards to sit at the back and gather up the girls to her.

Walcher had hopped up into the driver’s seat and just in time—dropships roared overhead, and through the estate gate, Tyr saw a group of Resistance fighters pelt full tilt down the street towards the eastern barricades. Walcher slapped the reins, and the kwehing chocobos dutifully began to draw the carriage across the lawn and through the open gates. Tyr, Havardr, and Father followed after, Havardr just a few steps ahead.

Tyr felt eyes on him, and canted his head to the side. Ivar Greywolfe looked at him, golden eyes worn but determined. He flicked his gaze towards his younger son.

Tyr nodded.

As the carriage cleared the gate, Walcher guiding the chocobos to head west, Havardr began to turn east. That was when Tyr and Father grabbed him by either arm, and hauled him towards the carriage.

“No!” Havardr shouted, loud even over the battle raging down the street and throughout the rest of the city, bucking and struggling against their holds. “No, no, don’t you dare make me leave you behind, don’t you dare—”

Tyr managed to wrestled his brother’s arms behind him even as Father let go to grab either side of Havardr’s head. “Someone has to protect the rest of the family!” he yelled, pitching his voice over the explosion of yet another ceruleum cannon. “That’s your job now, Havardr! You have to keep them safe, for me and for Tyr!”

Havardr sobbed as Father pressed a kiss to his forehead. Tyr let him go, and then he and Father were engulfing his brother into a fierce three-way hug. Havardr clutched at them, hands scrabbling for purchase on their leathers, gasping out, “I love you I love you I’m sorry I love you—”

“Love you, too, brother mine,” Tyr said. And then he and Father picked Havardr up and threw him into the carriage.

“Walcher, GO!” Father roared, turning to bolt down the street to shore up the defensive line at the end of the street. Tyr ran after him, drawing his swords as he did.

One of the mages had brought down one of the buildings to create a barricade, but Garlean reapers had joined the fray and their cannons were making quick, awful work of the stone. Bladedancers clashed with conscripts, swords clanking loudly against shields, knuckledancers wove through the melee to disable enemy combatants, a firedancer was standing atop the rubble to aim her destructive magicks at the backlines of the advancing enemy. Tyr and his father crashed into the Garleans, swords sweeping through their foes and blood flowing. They hadn’t been with the Resistance when they stormed the palace, their job to put down any Corpse Brigade curs should they begin attacking civilians in the city, and thus they were fresh, their stamina still high.

The heavy whirr of machina echoed down the street, and another reaper fired its cannon. The blast partially hit both the downed building and the street, and for a moment, Ala Mhigans and Garleans alike were unbalanced as the force of the blast shook the block. Tyr reached out to stabilize his father, eyes forward, and saw one of the backline officers raise their gunblade—

Tyr Greywolfe never felt the bullet.

[cyanide-latte]

TWST giftfic: Happy Birthday Gia

Word count: 1695

Characters: @ramshacklerumble's Gia Yugo (duh,) Grim, my boys Copper Benoit and Wei Renqiao, and @tixdixl's Kingsley Tyr and Emil Lehr (latter briefly mentioned)

Warnings: None apply [though it does just kind of come to a stop rather than a proper ending, sorry about that]

—————

The first hints of crisp fall weather were alive on the air as Copper Benoit made his way up the long walk to Ramshackle Dormitory, and though the cold didn’t exactly bother him, he was grateful for the minor resistance his dorm uniform gave him against the nip of the wind.  Typically even that wouldn’t bother him—his affinity for wind magic meant he was making friends with the element itself—but there was a childlike eagerness to the wind right now, meaning it was a little less inclined to cooperate.  Still, he liked to think it was a mutual excitement for what day it was.

“So hey, what did you bring?” he turned and asked the other student trundling along behind him.  He’d not spoken to the other boy much since starting at NRC, not that the other exactly made that easy.  Wei Renqiao was very noticeable and recognizable among the students—you couldn’t be that tall or wearing an Ignihyde uniform while being that built, and not be easily recognized—but he was also rather notoriously elusive and eerily quiet with most students who didn’t know him that well.  In fact, Copper was quite surprised that Wei Renqiao had offered to walk with him to Ramshackle since they were both on the way there, especially since he could tell the older boy was a bit hesitant and awkward.

At the question, Wei Renqiao stopped on one of the rises and blinked his odd eyes as if he’d not quite expected Copper to say anything to him.

“I mean, we’re both bringing gifts to them, right?  So what did you bring?” Copper said.

Wei Renqiao seemed to consider for a moment, then answered, “Are you going to tell me what you got them?”

Right, he should have expected that response.  “Hmm, I almost feel like that would ruin the surprise.”

“Then that’s my answer to you.”

“Touché, then.”

He bounded up the last few steps, jittery with excitement, and knocked on the door with the old brass knocker to announce their presence.  He could hear Wei Renqiao following along behind, never altering his pace, and he had to resist the urge to turn around again and tell him to hurry up.  Not that he thought the prefect would leave them out in the relative cold, so to speak, but how could you not be excited for a friend’s birthday?!

Eventually, the door swung open—no creaking this time, the hinges must have been either oiled or replaced for the occasion—and Gia Yugo’s impassive face appeared on the other side.  Their eyebrows lifted just a fraction, which served as a regular degree of expression for them, and there was a hint of surprise to the “Hey” with which they greeted Copper and Wei Renqiao.

“Hey!” Copper said.  “Wanted to bring my gift over early, and I ran into Wei as I was headed over.  Is it okay if we come in?”

Gia gave a brief nod, then stepped back to allow them entry.  Copper came right in, heard a strange sound followed by a monotone “Ow” behind him, and realized Wei Renqiao must not have ducked down quite far enough to completely avoid hitting his head on the doorframe lintel.  But once inside, Copper took a second to marvel at the place, unable to quite withhold an impressed whistle.

“Everyone really helped you spruce the place up!” he exclaimed.  “Look at the decorations!”

The place really did look great, black-and-gold balloons spaced throughout, with matching ribbons and streamers. A banner with letters spelling “HAPPY BIRTHDAY” hung in the common room above the old fireplace, the mantel of which was draped with a transparent, plastic drop sheet that shimmered.

“No actual glitter at the party,” Gia said.  “Not unless everyone else is going to be doing the clean-up afterwards.”

“Sounds reasonable,” Copper agreed with a nod.

“Ah, Captain Benoit,” another voice interjected, and he looked around, grinning as he saw another familiar and much appreciated face.

“Hey!” he greeted Kingsley Tyr, then glanced between him and Gia.  “You’re not about to leave, are you?”

Kingsley raised his visible eyebrow, but said nothing.  Copper understood the invitation to proceed for what it was.

“Just wanted to give my gift early, that’s all.”

“Mmn, so did I,” Wei Renqiao suddenly spoke up, and Copper nearly jumped out of his skin.  For a second, he’d forgotten the guy was there.  Wei Renqiao didn’t seem to notice as he continued, “Apologies, I don’t wish to be rude, but I agreed to help Ortho prepare for the party later.  If I could just drop this off…?”

He lifted a rectangular parcel, wrapped up in a cloth that Copper guessed was a pretty little tea towel, and held it out to Gia.  For the first time, Copper could smell something warm and sweet coming from it.

“Uh, thanks…” Gia began, only to be interrupted by another voice.

“Oooh, I thought my amazing nose smelled some grub!” Grim sprang out of nowhere onto Gia’s shoulder, clinging there like a baby sibling with too much rambunctious energy.  “What is it, huh?  Gimme gimme!”

“It’s red bean bread,” Wei Renqiao explained.  “Don’t worry, I made enough for you too, Grim.”  He gave a pointed glance at Gia then.  “I could throw something together to bring to the party if more refreshments are needed, but this is just for you.”

Gia looked up at him, nodded, and gave the barest twitch of the corner of their mouth in a not-smile of gratitude as Grim let out a snicker of greedy glee.  The Ignihyde student nodded in response to Gia, made a small huff of satisfaction, and turned to leave.  His footsteps were surprisingly quiet for someone so big, though there was another faint thump and a tired, compulsory “Ow” before the front door opened and shut again.  Gia let out a short exhale through their nose at that, and Copper wondered if it wasn’t almost a laugh.

“What about you?” Grim demanded, immediately turning to Copper.  “C’mon, c’mon, what’d you get my hench-human?!”

Copper let out a small, warm chuckle.  Grim had won him over with his antics before, and now was no different.  He was as fond of the direbeast as he was respecting and admiring of Gia, and really, the two were a package deal when you really came down to it.

“You’d think it was your birthday, Grim,” he remarked, before holding out his box to Gia.  “Actually, I’m glad you’re here too, Tyr.  You actually helped me with this.”

Kingsley looked at him, eyes widening slightly, the smallest spark of curiosity present there now.  Gia caught the look as well, and stared at Copper without a word or a change in their expression.  There was nothing wrong there, just a contemplative beat, and then they started to open the box, Grim leaning in over their shoulder, eyes wide as well.

Gia handed the ribbon from it off to the direbeast, then lifted the lid, and Copper saw a change come over their face.  It wasn’t a huge one, but enough for him to realize that the gift had had at least some of the impact he’d been hoping for.

“Mwrah?!  Gloves?” Grim said, not bothering to hide his confusion and disappointment.  “What kinda gift is that?”

“Well, I was going for practical, and all I could think of was gardening gloves,” Copper admitted, “though I know maybe these won’t be so practical after all.”

“They’re monogrammed,” Gia said, voice a little quieter than normal, lowering the box enough for Kingsley to see, and also for Copper to take another gander at the gloves himself, to see the beautiful, interlocking initials G.Y. on the backs of them…as well as the small design beneath the initials.  “They’ve got my slingshot on them.”

There was the faintest of sounds from Kingsley, and Copper looked at him just as the Diasomnia boy turned his gaze in his direction.  “So that’s why you were asking me about their slingshot’s design.”

Copper nodded, no longer holding back his smile.  “Embroidery and monogramming isn’t uncommon in Port o’ Bliss,” he said.  “I asked Sam if he knew of any professionals who would do long distance orders, and he put me in touch, and when I saw they’d be willing to include a small design with the initials…” He shrugged.  “Just seemed right to make it your slingshot.”

Gia was blinking a little, poking at the one other thing Copper knew was in the box.  “There’s oil.” 

“Yeah, for treating them,” he said.  “Help ‘em last longer.”

Gia didn’t say anything for a moment, brushing a thumb over the gloves.

“Thank you,” they finally said.

“Happy birthday,” Copper replied, hands going to his hips.  He wasn’t entirely sure Gia would end up using them, given the monogramming, but their interest in horticultural research was known to him by now, and everyone who worked with plants needed some nice, durable gloves.

There was a sudden buzz from his phone in his pocket and he startled, pulling it out quick to see a text from his dorm brother, Emil.

“Ohhwh…” he groaned.  “Talk about timing… Hey, I gotta go take care of this real quick, I’m really sorry.  My help’s needed, got an SOS.”

Gia looked up quickly from the gloves.  “You coming to the party later?”

Kingsley mirrored their look, and Copper felt a small bubble of joy in his chest.  He wasn’t sure if he was imagining the hopeful sound or look from them, but it was nice to think about.  Their friendship was a touch unusual, somewhat born from a unified need to get to the bottom of Jamil Viper’s scheming during one fateful winter break, but that event had created in Copper a sense of trust and camaraderie with both Kingsley and especially with Gia that went beyond anything that had been there prior. In a way, he quite felt like the three of them could easily overcome anything if they decided it was in their collective way, and he couldn’t think of missing one of their birthdays.

“I’ll be here early, and I’ll stay late to help clean up,” he promised.

—————

Happy (slightly belated) birthday, Gar [and Gia]!!

Taglist: @blithesharem @elenauaurs @inmateofthemind @ramshacklerumble @tixdixl

@distant-velleity @rainesol @thehollowwriter @theleechyskrunkly @twst-migraine

@natsukishinomiyaswife @the-trinket-witch (DM me if you'd like to be added or removed from the taglist for my TWST OCs stuff)

[tixdixl]

I was telling @ramshacklerumble over the weekend that I had this mental image of what it might look like with the four of them hanging out together. A tangled mess and yet somehow all functioning simultaneously.

Tag list: @ramshacklerumble @elenauaurs @rainesol @thehollowwriter @inmateofthemind

@cyanide-latte @blithesharem @theleechyskrunkly @boopshoops @starry-night-rose

@the-trinket-witch

Lmk if you want added/removed

[mist-touchedxiv]

Chapter 1

A warm wind blew across the plain, a welcome touch in the desert of Thanalan. However, it didn't provide any relief to the Hyur man who was being harassed by a group of bandits.

A solid kick to his stomach caused him to gasp as the wind was driven from his lungs.

"Ye gotta lotta nerve taking a drink from OUR well, scum," purred the cruel Mi'qote woman perched on the stone lip of the well in question. The rag tag group of intimidating men and women growled in agreement. A couple of bandits roughly picked up the man by each arm, one forcefully raised his chin so he could look the leader in the eyes.

"P-please..." the man wheezed weakly as the hot dry air began to fill his lungs again. "Th-this... well is the closest.... water source.... f-for my village... We don't have much-"

One of the bandits started to dramatically boo-hoo, a poor mummer's farce of the man's dilemma.

"Oy! I keep telling ye, ye need to do comedy," squawked another bandits delightedly, the others roared with laughter in agreement.

The bandit leader lazily stretched and crossed her legs on her perch. "Just consider us members of the community who are guarding the well. We have to make our vittles too. How about... 10,000 gil a moon? We'll also take other goods and sundries if you can't afford the coin."

"Th-that's impossible," sputtered the Hyur man. "We're only a small mining town! W-we can't meet that deman-" Stars exploded across the man's vision as the Mi'qote leader slapped him across the face.

As the pain and stars receded, the Hyur numbly noticed something strange behind the bandits. The sound of a loud slurp startled the leader who hopped with incredible alacrity off the well wall with a hiss. Somehow a tall man dressed in blue Doman clothing in a large straw hat had managed to approach the group unseen in the open wasteland. The assembled group couldn't help but stare nonplussed as the stranger took another deep slurp of the cool water from the well. Next to him, a thin long package wrapped in canvas rested against the well.

For a moment, a stunned silence filled the air, punctuated only by the breeze and the squeaking of the windmill that drew the life-giving water in the well. And the stranger's noisy drinking.

"O-oy! Who the hells is this git," barked the wannabe mummer, breaking the silence after a long beat. The gang's attention was now on the newcomer and they were feeling very tense.

The stranger wiped ran his thumb along his stubbly beard as he let out a satisfied sigh. He nudged up the hat and considered them with bright blue eyes. "Just thirsty," came the reply, his voice pleasant with an accent unfamiliar in Eorzea.

"You gotta pay a toll to use OUR well," growled a scarred Elezen. "Ye would do well not to end up like this unfortunate scum." He lashed out with his foot at the man they'd been bullying but found naught but air as he had crawled away during the silence.

The stranger in blue paid them no heed as he filled up a water skin calmly. A particularly rough looking Hrothgar stomped over to him. "Ye got dust in your ears," he roared as he reached a huge hand over to grab the stranger's hat. "I'll fi-" There was a sharp crack as the stranger suddenly lashed out with inhuman speed and drove the end of the wrapped package into the throat of the Hrothgar who let out a coughing mew as he fell over, his hand taking the hat with him to reveal a mane of black hair with azure streaks and two long leoprine ears. The wrapping fell from the package to reveal what appeared to be a Garlean gunblade sheathed, but the blade was slightly shorter and appeared to be missing the barrel.

"Hells... it's a Viera male..." breathed the gang leader as the rarity of such a pretty creature registered with her. He had to be worth something. A lot of somethings. Possibly more than their water scheme. To their credit, the rest of the gang seemed to have already come to the same realization and drew their weapons and began to surround the blue stranger.

The Viera put his hand on the hilt of his blade, readying himself. "Trust me... it's not worth it," he said quietly, sensing their intentions. "Walk away." The leader let out a harsh cackle as she nocked an arrow on her bow.

"Got ye dead to rights, now be a good pretty bunny and come with us," she purred, aiming to pin his foot. Didn't want to damage the goods too much.

The wind blew.

The wind mill creaked.

The villains brandished their weapons with unspoken threats of violence.

Crystalline blue eyes regarded their surroundings.

Suddenly, the wind died and the Mi'qote let the arrow loose.

Her aim was true, but the target was gone. In a flash of steel, the man had seemed to dance his way through the ring of bandits with the grace and power of a surging river. The Mi'qote blinked surprised, suddenly spinning around to find the Viera behind her.

She snarled "I got ye no-" She suddenly realized that her bow was no longer stringed, having been cut during the mad dance of the swordsman. With a definitive click as he fully sheathed his blade again, the ground shook slightly as the whole gang crumpled to the dirt. They were still breathing but were not having a good time.

Time seemed to standstill for eternity. Then the wind blew again and brought them back to the present.

".... Go," ordered the Viera and the gang complied, disappearing in a cloud of dust.