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ruvviks · 1 year ago

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Chapter >> 19 [x] Characters >> ??? Total >> 7.7k words Warnings >> Alcohol mention, death mention, family / parents, injury mention, smoking

‘More information has been released on the explosions in Charter Hill from a few days ago. The office building in question was supposedly in use as a hideout by the infamous fixer known as “the Broker” on the streets. The explosion itself did minimal damage, but most of the building has been consumed by the fire that broke out on the lower levels.

The NCPD has yet to confirm the number of casualties though emphasizes that no innocent civilians have been caught in the crossfire. The Broker has presumably died on the premises. Their mercenaries have scattered across town and thus far, no further incidents have been reported.

It appears that peace has finally returned to the streets of Night City. And with that, the weather.’

It was the end of August.

The streets were dark. A pitch black sky hung over Night City, heavy rainfall threatening to pour down and a hint of static in the air though not quite enough yet for a full storm to break loose. Nearing the evening hours- the sweet spot right before rush hour where the whole city seemed to be holding its breath, roads left eerily abandoned as restaurants and bars began opening their doors and people packed up their things to leave work and go home.

The run-down apartment building cast a dark shadow on the streets of the Glen, curtains of windows behind bars and grids closed and apartments left unilluminated and cold. The graffiti-covered entrance hall was abandoned- the sound of heels clacking softly on the faded and cracked tiles leading up to the concrete staircase, a single bright fluorescent ceiling light flickering and swaying from a strong breeze blowing in from the hall.

It was one of the older buildings in town. Its initial purpose had been to become a beautiful and bright home to working class families- affordable housing close to work, with stable electricity and HVAC and everything else needed to be able to live comfortably and safely raise a kid or two.

An idea, a dream; exactly how many projects in Night City often started, a vision easy enough to make reality yet halted halfway through because of financial reasons, corporate interference, gang territory expansion, a cyberpsycho incident, economic or political interests or a cocktail of several- or all- of those reasons.

Which is how the building had instead ended up as a derelict ruin with barely working electricity and apartments in the possession of shady owners- some going for triple the rent it was worth and others cheap but in such poor condition one might as well be sleeping on the streets.

Home, sweet home.

The seventh floor stood entirely abandoned, its apartments burnt down after a fire a few years back. All except one; in the far back, safely tucked away from the main street and overlooking the outskirts of Vista Del Rey, though the windows had not been cleaned in who knows how long leaving not much outside to see.

It was small, cozy. A single room apartment with a tiny bathroom in the corner, the door only half in its hinges and never repaired. It held barely any furniture, an old couch with coffee table that missed a leg marking the living room with a mattress on the floor behind it as bed, and a small kitchen on the left next to the front door made out of mismatched cabinets and an old oven and stove that looked like it was as old as time itself.

Despite the clear absence of a resident, the place was not as dirty as it could have been. Recently dusted and the kitchen counter was clean, fridge in working order running on an external generator and stocked with basic foods and some liquors. A safehouse, presumably; or at least a temporary refuge for someone who needed desperately to hide, or simply needed the solitude from time to time.

Cold, grayish blue eyes slowly trailed the dark room, the silence inside nearly deafening. Who had known Night City could be so quiet? Everything else was so far away, an aura of loneliness weighing down on the stuffy interior air making it harder to breathe. Searching hand found a light switch- flicked it on, and a string of colored lights along the top of the window on the other side of the room turned on, bathing the apartment in a soft, reddish pink glow.

Home, sweet home.

It did not feel like it.

He slowly took off his coat, holding it under his arm as he carefully walked further into the room. Ran his free hand through his short, slicked back hair- it was a little damp, still, caused by the humidity outside as well as inside, and he exhaled a little sharper than he had meant for as he quickly dried his hand on his pants.

The place made him uncomfortable, despite the warm and inviting atmosphere the colored lights created. It was too heavy with history- too much hardship had happened between those four decrepit walls and too much of it lingered still and it left him with so many questions; questions he clearly already knew the answers for, but questions that would not leave him alone either way.

Matvey had lived in an apartment like that himself, too.

Many, many years ago; when he had been in his early twenties, only recently escaped his parents’ home, struggling to find balance in the multitude of aspects of his life and struggling to get by.

His eyes trailed the walls, over pictures that had been left there, faded by the decade that had passed but showing people, friends, at parties and roaming the Night City streets after dark, smiling brightly at the camera with closed eyes and scrunched up noses.

And his gaze lingered on one boy in particular, present in nearly all of them- bleached blond hair that reached his waist, some freckles covering his forehead and cheekbones, pale grayish blue eyes above a wide smile, and a small gap between his front teeth.

Oh, Vitali.

Matvey carefully took one of the pictures from the wall, only barely able to contain his irregular breathing and heartbeat as he slowly scanned the faces of both his son and someone unfamiliar next to him; a boy with light brown hair and golden eyes, face full of piercings and a tattoo peeking out of his shirt on his neck.

They were kissing in the picture. Matvey had never even gotten the chance to meet him.

The howling of the wind outside made him shiver while he quickly put the picture back, hairs on his arms standing up straight as the cool breeze blew through cracks and holes in the outer wall of the apartment.

It did not feel right to stand there. It did not feel right to exist in the space Vitali had once existed in, struggling to get by, struggling to survive in a city that was so desperately trying to swallow him whole. And if Matvey could go back in time to change it- any of it-

But it was far too late for that now.

‘Vitali?’

Matvey stood motionless as he watched his son enter the house- flashlight of his phone illuminating the dark hallway- coming home from one of his classmates’ infamous parties while Matvey himself was already getting ready to go to work.

‘Party lasted a little longer than I had thought,’ Vitali instantly blurted out, and Matvey glanced at his watch; nearly five in the morning, and Vitali would have school in only a few hours- but most importantly, Nadya had not even given him permission to go in the first place.

Matvey lowered himself on the couch and exhaled sharply, the memories washing over him like a tidal wave slamming itself into the coastline. Memories of an easier time; but now he was not so sure anymore, wondering if it had truly been as simple as he had always thought, wondering if perhaps his own judgment was clouded, unreliable.

Matvey slowly walked closer to Vitali, trying to think of anything to say; scold him, perhaps, punish him for his recklessness and misbehavior-

But something stopped him from doing so.

Something on Vitali’s face- the way his eyes widened the second his father began moving closer, the way he clearly tried to find the right words to say- the way he swayed on his legs and could barely keep his phone in his hand and the way his eyes almost glossed over when Matvey got close enough-

He simply reached out and plucked a half smoked cigarette out of his son’s hair.

Nadya had not needed to know.

The lights along the wall and ceiling lightly flickered as another strong wind caused the glass of the window to rattle in its frame. A late afternoon dust storm blowing in from the Badlands, leaving the city streets in a thin layer of sand once it would settle down again; the one time anyone would be glad to have a roof above their head, no matter how run-down.

Matvey clasped his hands together, frown decorating the upper half of his face, the howling of the wind the only thing breaking through the silence surrounding him alongside the ringing in his ears the explosions from a few days earlier had left him with-

His eyes fluttered shut and a shaky exhale left his chest.

Oh, Vitali.

It had not been worth it.

Months of planning, months of fighting- months of losing sight of what was right and what was wrong and everything in between and most of all losing sight of what it had all been for in the first place. Revenge? Trying to prove a point? Trying to be good enough for a woman who had lost interest somewhere down the line, to the point she had started to become more of a stranger to him than his own wife?

And where had it led him?

Where had it all led any of them?

‘Perimeter is clear. You should be safe here.’

The familiar voice was comforting, in a way.

It sounded different now; the years had not been kind to him, but still Vitali had grown up to become a fine looking young man radiating more confidence than he had ever done at any point in his childhood, and Matvey would be lying if he said he was not proud of his son for getting to the point in his life he was at now.

He opened his eyes again and watched as Vitali entered the apartment, cane lightly clacking on the old wooden floorboards with every step he took. His eyes trailed the room- though too fast for anyone to be able to fully take in any of the smaller details, and the white-knuckled balled fist along his body told Matvey he would rather be anywhere else.

‘Thank you, for this,’ Matvey quietly said in Russian, but Vitali cut him off with a single shake of his head. He couldn’t even look him in the eyes- gaze fixed on the photos on the wall as he took a step back, wincing lightly and putting his hand over the patched up wound in his side.

‘I don’t want your gratitude,’ he coldly replied. ‘Words mean nothing. Not anymore.’

Matvey understood.

Nothing he could say would set things right. Nothing he could say would change what had happened, would make it all go away- and as far as Vitali was concerned this could easily be part of his plan, still, trying to get closer to him in a vastly different way; try to gain his trust and strike when everyone would least expect it to come out victorious at the end of it all either way.

It would have been a genius plan, Matvey had to admit- well within his capabilities too, he could have pulled it off.

But that was not who he was.

Not anymore.

‘You have- a long way to go,’ Vitali quietly continued, taking out his cigarette case, flicking one out and carefully lighting it, the flame of his lighter softly illuminating the space around him.

‘Make things right. Somehow. Prove to me that you are better without Nadya. And I can’t help you with any of that, so- good luck figuring it out for yourself. I have nothing to win or lose in any of this anymore, so do whatever you feel like doing.’

A nonchalance to his voice, but the words he spoke were heavy. As if all of it was a burden to him- and Matvey knew exactly why, having had enough interactions with Vitali’s friends thus far to know that they did not fully support his son’s decision.

His actions would speak louder than words.

Of course Vitali did not know that Matvey had come with him to that tiny ripperdoc shop- Viktor, I believe his name is- and had stayed with him all that time, refusing to sleep, agreeing to let himself be handcuffed as humiliating as it was just to ease others’ minds.

Of course he didn’t know that Matvey had helped that fixer, Rogue, put together a fake profile for the Broker to get that poor excuse of a Council’s attention away from the both of them entirely and to make sure the NCPD had a name to settle on to put the case to rest in their archives, never to be seen ever again.

And of course he didn’t know that Matvey had willingly allowed some netrunner he could not remember the name of wipe his own entire existence from Arasaka’s database, to make sure they would never find out the truth but at the same time rendering him incapable of ever returning to the corporation, even if he for whichever reason so desperately wanted to.

But what difference would it make if he knew?

‘I won’t let you down,’ Matvey finally answered, lowering his gaze to the ground. Not out of shame, or dishonesty- but if anything out of fear, fear of what he would see on his son’s face, fear of his words being taken with a grain of salt despite how heavy they weighed on his tongue, despite how sincerely he meant them, and he clenched his fists on his lap as a sharp exhale left his body.

A long way to go.

But at least Matvey knew where to start.

‘Hey, Vito.’

The interior of Misty’s shop was comfortably warm, gently illuminated by a few lit candles scattered around. A welcoming sight as always- the interior colorfully decorated but not too clashing or too bright on the eyes, and Vitali would be lying if he said it didn’t make him feel at home.

She hadn’t closed yet; though no one else was inside at that time of day, most of Little China’s residents seeking shelter from the dust storm passing over elsewhere in either the Megabuilding or one of its many diners or restaurants. Misty herself was stood behind the counter, leaning on top with her elbows and softly humming a song.

Vitali wiped his feet on the doormat and quickly took off his mask and glasses, stuffing them in the pocket of his long coat before giving Misty a wave and a smile as he walked closer. She smiled back at him in return; and reached out to ruffle his hair the second he got within her reach, sand and dust falling out of it like snowflakes and sticking to his clothes on the way down.

‘Is Vitya still here?’ he asked, setting his cane down beside him and leaning on the counter as well, eyes fixed on the deck of tarot cards in Misty’s hands she was shuffling.

‘Of course,’ was the response, as usual. ‘City never sleeps.’

‘Neither does he, it seems.’

‘And neither do you.’

Vitali scoffed, a smile lingering on his face as he lowered his gaze to the floor beneath his feet. He couldn’t even argue with her; had not slept at all last night despite recovering from a shot that could have killed him- that should have killed him- only a few days ago.

‘Got time for a reading?’ Misty asked, reaching out to place her hand on Vitali’s before he could pull back to make his way outside, to get to Viktor’s shop. ‘Startin’ to become kind of a tradition at this point, I think.’

‘Hm- with V, maybe.’

Vitali paused, reaching out to the tarot deck in his friend’s hands- she fanned them out near automatically for him, a slightly questioning look in her eyes- and he picked one out, turning it between his fingers and clicking his tongue upon seeing the result.

‘Your cards do not like me very much,’ he finished his sentence with a wink and a smile, and he grabbed his cane again while dropping the tarot card labeled “death” face up on the counter as he made his way around it through the back door of the esoterica.

He had walked down those stairs many, many times before; knew the route to Viktor’s ripperdoc clinic as intimately as the route between his office and his home. Perhaps even more so- visits albeit sparingly going back years in time to long before his time as a fixer, long before he had moved into the penthouse he lived in now.

The familiar smell of sharp disinfectant entered his nose halfway down the steps. The familiar struggle to open the gate to get inside- the familiar sight of Viktor mid drying his hands on a hand towel on the other side of the room, giving him a warm smile as he slowly walked over.

‘Was wondering when you’d show your face again. How’re you feeling?’

‘Tired,’ Vitali bluntly answered, closing the gate behind him. ‘My whole body wants to lay down in bed and never get out, my skull feels cracked and I have not had an appetite since I woke up, but- what can you do.’

Viktor reached out- a gesture that nearly caused Vitali to flinch, a rush of adrenaline locking up the muscles in his neck- and gently cupped his cheek, slightly tilting his head around as he checked his eyes; then placed his hand on Vitali’s forehead, a soft hum that could have both been of approval as well as disapproval leaving his throat.

‘It’ll settle soon enough,’ he finally spoke. ‘You were-’ A pause. ‘You were close to-’

‘I know, Vik,’ Vitali quickly interrupted the old ripperdoc. ‘I know.’

Vitali could not remember much of any of it anymore.

He remembered feeling the cool night air on his skin, the very same slight breeze that had later caused the fire inside the building to spread rapidly from floor to floor. He remembered being lifted into a car- being held by several people at once, staring up through the half opened car window to the dark sky and heavy clouds and the blinding city lights flashing by.

They had brought him there. To Viktor’s shop. He had no longer been conscious by then, and it had taken him a while to wake up after being stabilized; and even then he could still not remember when and how exactly he had gotten home, and the previous day was by that hour also mostly a blur to him.

Vitali’s gaze met Viktor’s again and he instantly took notice of the expectant look in his eyes; no words leaving his lips, but the question was crystal clear to him either way. And in hindsight, Vitali was not entirely sure anymore why he had gone to Vik’s in the first place, when there was really not much else to say.

‘I brought him to the safehouse today,’ Vitali sheepishly said, fumbling with the handle of his cane and lowering his gaze to the floor. ‘He will be staying there for- well, I don’t know. Until he has figured out what to do next, I suppose.’

‘Good.’ Short response. Vitali nearly wished he had just gone home instead. ‘Did it ease your mind?’

He absently nodded, Viktor’s words taking a moment to settle in his brain and as they did the light bobbing faltered and faded into a sigh, shoulders slumping forward as he reached out to grab a chair from beside him and he slowly sat down.

‘I thought it would, but… I don’t know anymore,’ he answered honestly, barely able to look Viktor in the eye as the man sat down on his own stool nearby and wheeled closer. A comforting move- and Vitali’s heartbeat settled down a little as it happened, glad he did not have to cut the conversation short.

‘Did I-?’ he started, frowning as he reconsidered his words and momentarily searched for something else to say. ‘Shouldn’t I have-’

‘Hey- no. Don’t start doubtin’ yourself now, kid.’

The soothing tone of Viktor’s voice seemed everlasting with his patience, and Vitali closed his eyes and dropped his head as the ripperdoc put a reassuring hand on his wrist.

‘Not after everything you’ve been through,’ he added to the statement, and fuck, how Vitali wished he hadn’t- if he had just made a couple of different decisions somewhere along the way then he wouldn’t have had to-

‘But what if I was wrong?’ Vitali blurted out, the words lingering inside his head for much longer than necessary and rendering him unable to keep his mouth shut, like many times before. ‘What if-’

‘You’ve made plenty of mistakes in your life, V,’ Viktor immediately interrupted him. ‘Just like all of us. Just like me.’

Well, that was unexpected.

Vitali frowned and looked back up, Viktor slightly averting his gaze to a point right behind Vitali to not have to look him in the eyes.

‘One of my biggest mistakes?’ he continued, a sudden instability to his voice that had not been there before and he gave Vitali’s wrist a soft squeeze. ‘Not listenin’ to you. Trying to tell you to not join Arasaka after you’d already let me know there was no changing your mind. Pushing you away like that.’

Vitali could not help but wonder how long the other man had been sitting on that one.

Wind blew in from up the stairs, rattling the gate behind them and causing the orange cat curled up in a little makeshift bed next to it to jump up, hiss, and skitter across the floor to sit between Vitali’s legs instead. He absently reached down to give him a few scratches on the head- Jack, he believed Viktor had named him- and used the moment to let the words settle in his head again.

Fuck, he was tired.

‘You were right,’ he finally replied, vividly remembering how desperately Viktor had tried to convince him to not sell his soul to the corporation so many years ago.

‘Doesn’t matter if I was right or wrong,’ Viktor cut him off again with a single shake of his head. ‘I wasn’t there for you the way you needed me.’

‘You’re not my dad, Vik.’

‘But he wasn’t there either, was he now?’

Silence washed over the room and a pang of anger tightened Vitali’s chest; though he managed to shrug it off with ease, knowing the frustration was unnecessary since Viktor was merely stating facts. He lowered his gaze again, staring at Jack who was slapping his ankles and attempting to bite through one of his shoes- and for some reason it caused a small smile to take shape on his face, despite the rest of the circumstances he’d found himself in.

‘Look, kid,’ Viktor quietly said, ‘I can’t tell you whether you made the right call or not. Truth is, I don’t know. I don’t know what I would’ve done. But I trust your judgment. And I’m not gonna let history repeat itself.’

‘What if I am wrong?’

‘Then we’ll find out soon enough. What else are you gonna do about it now?’

He was right.

Of course he was- what else was there for Vitali to do? He could lock Matvey up, and then what? Accidentally turn him into a second Ravager because of it? He was not leaving the man to his own devices. Was not trapping him but would keep an eye on him either way, make sure the things that had happened would never ever happen again-

‘Every decision you’ve made along the way has led us here. You did the best you could.’ Viktor stood up again, giving Vitali a gentle pat on his shoulder before turning around to tend to the mess on his desk, grabbing a stack of papers and shoving it into one of the drawers.

‘You’re just one man, Vito,’ he continued, ‘and you know what? Him too. What’s wrong with this city is that too many folks have this- this “kill who you can kill” mindset. Let’s be honest here, what real difference would it have made to take this one man’s life?’

‘Others have died along the way,’ Vitali bluntly fired back, reaching down and barely reacting when Jack instantly attacked his fingers, pupils dilating upon spotting Vitali’s rings and trying to pull one off his hand. ‘It would’ve been better to save them.’

‘And you tried, didn’t you? Had you killed him, would things have been different? Who else would have lived? Who else would have died?’

It was impossible to say.

Too many external factors at play- Ravager and Dupoint as rogue variables, as well as each and every single one of his father’s mercs. Nadya’s influence had changed so much; what would she have done if Vitali had successfully killed Matvey at any point in time? Would she still have wanted to remain on the sidelines?

‘Sometimes, living is a punishment,’ Viktor suddenly quietly said and Vitali looked back up at him, needing a second to realize he himself had stood up as well and had followed Viktor further into the room.

‘The human mind punishes itself more than enough- and death just… puts an end to that. It’s what makes it so appealing to some when life gets very difficult for them.’

His words were carefully chosen and Vitali could feel his chest tighten again, a lump in his throat making it harder to swallow. He knew Viktor was just putting out general statements, but he couldn’t help but take notice of the slightly targeted remarks dripping down from between the lines, the backside of a coin presented to him visible through a reflective surface behind it.

‘I don’t think the others understand,’ Vitali absently mumbled, a poor attempt at changing the subject.

‘And I don’t think that matters all that much,’ was the ripperdoc’s straightforward response. ‘Nothing’s been forgiven. Nothing’s been forgotten. You simply spared his life and gave him a temporary place to stay, an opportunity to better himself. What he does with that is out of your control.’

He made it sound so easy.

Vitali rarely worried about his reputation among others, knowing very well he could not satisfy everyone and attempting to do that would be as useless as trying to rid Night City of all crime. Sure, he tried his best to stay on the good side of at least the Council- even during all of this he had done nothing to anger them on purpose- but he did not let his worries about it stop him from doing what he felt was best for the situation, or for the parties involved.

But accusations were starting to stack up rather rapidly now. The belief some had he had joined Arasaka again for a while- unaware of the brainwashing, or simply refusing to believe it had happened- the belief some had he was the Broker himself, and now the doubts people had in him because of the outright refusal to kill his father despite the man being just one person in the bigger picture of things.

‘Do you think it will work out?’ Vitali carefully asked, watching as Viktor began setting some tools back on a shelf- and for a split second he was twenty years old again, swaying on his feet with his head completely elsewhere begging Viktor to tell him it would all be okay, to tell him it would be worth it, only to be met with deafening silence and an averted gaze.

‘Of course it will, kid,’ Viktor quietly said and an involuntarily, relieved sigh left Vitali’s chest.

‘It always does.’

Everything would fall in place in time. Viktor was right- of course he was. Vitali had no idea how long it would take, what it would take, but he wasn’t one to give up so easily and neither were any of his friends and for any of them to walk away now after everything they had been through together would be the most unrealistic scenario he could think of.

Of course it would be fine, in the end.

‘Can’t say I’ll ever like him, though,’ Viktor suddenly jokingly added to his statement. ‘But- s’pose we can coexist in peace.’

Vitali huffed in response, taking a step back to lean against the wall. ‘Can you imagine.’

‘Not in a million years.’

They were quiet for a moment, Vitali’s mind wandering off a little as he considered the possibility.

‘I mean,’ he quickly added- not entirely sure why he felt the need to, but it was already too late to stop the words from leaving his lips- ‘he’s a boxer. Like me. Like you.’

Viktor stopped what he was doing to turn to Vitali, and in his eyes where Vitali had expected to find judgment he instead found a softness that gave him just enough courage to keep talking.

‘Makes the worst jokes I’ve ever heard,’ he softly continued, ‘worse than Mikhail, if you can believe it. We used to… We used to watch those horrible hospital tv shows together every Sunday night when Nadya wasn’t home. We would rank all the male doctors from most to least attractive… We never settled on a winner.’

His voice finally trailed off and so did his gaze, glossy eyes trailing over the concrete floor and settling on a small stain near Viktor’s feet.

‘I’m sorry, this is- this is probably too soon, I didn’t mean-’

‘No such thing as too soon.’ Soothing, still, despite it all, like the strong hand he reached out and rested reassuringly on Vitali’s shoulder.. ‘You’ve had to carry that with you for years. Through all of this.’

He had.

Not at any point in time had Vitali stopped seeing Matvey as his father.

‘It feels like a lifetime ago,’ he mumbled, and his eyes fluttered shut when Viktor stepped forward and pulled him in for a hug, a sense of comfort washing over him and taking away any worries he’d had when he had entered the shop.

‘You think things will go back to how they used to be?’

‘No,’ Viktor replied without hesitation, but his voice lacked any hostility.

‘Absolutely not. And that’s for the best.’

The penthouse was not yet dark when Vitali came home, a couple of lights from the living room dimly illuminating the hallway leading up to the front door. A welcoming sight; his years in solitude had not done him well and Vitali would be forever glad to no longer have to live alone.

Mikhail and Vincent were curled up on the couch together under a blanket, quietly laughing about a joke one of them had made. The TV was still on, and Vitali’s eyes trailed over the coffee table- drinks and the remnants of snacks scattered across the marble tabletop.

Movie night. He had missed it a lot in the past few months.

‘Hey baby,’ Vincent said as Vitali walked closer and he reached out to gently grab both of Vitali's hands to drag him on the couch next to him. ‘How’d it go?’

‘Good,’ Vitali answered, leaning in to press a soft, slightly hesitant kiss on the corner of Vincent’s mouth. ‘Good, I think. He’s at the safehouse, everything is settled. For now.’

A short pause, as he sucked in a shallow breath and took a moment to scan both their faces. Vincent had not stopped smiling since he had entered, still looking up at him with a sleepy look in his eyes; but Mikhail refused to make eye contact, visibly biting the inside of his cheek as he instead played with Vincent’s hair. He was notably holding back all of his tics.

‘And here?’ Vitali quietly asked, gaze lingering on Mikhail a little longer until he finally looked up to answer.

‘Rogue called,’ he said. ‘Council has…mostly calmed down by now. The fake profile and “evidence” was enough to convince them and- well, streets are mostly back to normal. Which is really all they ever wanted in the first place.’

‘No ties to me? Or my-’ He stopped to swallow his words. ‘Or to Matvey?’

‘None at all,’ Vincent replied, and carefully brushed some of Vitali’s hair out of his face. ‘Don’t expect an apology from them, but- it’s over now.’

Vitali huffed. ‘All I ever wanted.’

It would do him good to finally no longer have to deal with them. The feeling of their eyes on his back had been a constant annoyance throughout the whole ordeal and all of that could have so easily been prevented if they had simply listened to him from the start.

But Vitali found it was best not to dwell on the Council’s behavior and decisions for too long. As Vincent rightfully said- expecting an apology would be as stupid as expecting to get any financial compensation or support from them for the resources and supplies lost along the way.

At least it would secure his spot out of their direct line of fire during the next Council meeting, whenever that would be. The thought alone already made him shudder- he’d never been all too fond of the gatherings in the first place, but they had gotten significantly worse since, well, recent developments.

‘What about Rogue?’ he finally asked, pushing his own thoughts aside.

‘Mostly just sounded very relieved that it is all over now,’ Mikhail said, shrugging as he grabbed the TV remote to turn off the still rolling credits from whatever movie they’d watched. ‘Will you- Will you go see her?’

‘Did she say anything?’

‘No.’

‘Then I should probably just stay out of her way for a while. Best for all of us.’

That finally got a smile out of Mikhail, glancing over to look at Vincent who had kept his mouth shut but was furiously nodding and Vitali gave him a playful poke in his side, causing his boyfriend to snort and accidentally headbutt Mikhail in the arm in his delayed attempt at dodging.

‘You know what we should do?’ Mikhail asked, playful sparkle in his eyes as he jokingly pulled Vincent closer to hold him in a headlock. ‘Go on vacation. Get out of town for a little bit.’

‘Hmm- Sounds lovely,’ Vitali said with a smile, kicking off his shoes and pulling his legs up on the couch as he moved closer to the both of them and allowed Vincent to drag him in for a hug. ‘Where to?’

‘Panam and Judes are going back to Arizona for a while, meet up with Saul and the others there,’ Vincent said, holding on to Mikhail’s arm with one hand and placing the other on Vitali’s waist. ‘Could go with ‘em- or the east coast.’ He glanced up to look at Mikhail. ‘You still got family there?’

‘I do.’ His eyes briefly lingered on Vincent before moving back to Vitali, and a few soft clicks of his tongue left his lips before he continued. ‘They still want to meet you, by the way.’

Vitali softly smiled back and lowered his gaze, chest tightening a little as Mikhail spoke. He had often mentioned his extended family in their childhood; had often asked Vitali to come with him one day, and how Vitali had wanted to but had never been allowed to travel outside of town because of Nadya and her general dislike of his friend.

Things are different now. She’s not here.

He couldn’t help but wonder where she was, though. If she was doing well.

‘I’m going to bed, important day tomorrow at office.’

Mikhail finally let go of Vincent and kissed him on the head, then reached out to ruffle Vitali’s hair- receiving a fake groan in return as response- and he leaned in to give him a hug, hands on the back of Vitali’s head and running in circles on his back as Vitali dropped his head in the crook of Mikhail’s neck and briefly closed his eyes.

Everything is fine. You’ve not ruined anything.

Mikhail gave him a kiss on his temple and then finally got up from the couch, stretching and yawning before making his way toward the hallway on their left.

‘Good night, you two.’

‘Night,’ Vitali replied in unison with Vincent, who immediately mumbled ‘jinx’ after it and instantly received another poke between his ribs from Vitali. He giggled and shuffled closer, pressing his face against Vitali’s shoulder as he carefully wrapped his arms around his waist.

‘Took you long to get home,’ he murmured against Vitali’s neck, softly pressing his lips against his skin.

‘Had some things to do,’ Vitali absently replied and hooked his arm under Vincent’s leg to pull him on his lap, quickly glancing into the hallway to check if Mikhail was out of sight.

‘Nothin’ I wouldn’t do, I hope?’

Not a surprising question- and Vitali could not blame him. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t considered it; stopping by a bar on the way there, or on the way home, couple shots wouldn’t hurt him- on a surface level, at least- and at least it would cause his anxiety to settle down for the time being.

But he couldn’t do that to Vincent. Not again.

‘I went to see Vitya,’ he quietly explained himself, gently cupping Vincent’s cheek to make him look up at him, and gave him another soft smile. ‘That’s all.’

Vincent blinked a few times and then leaned in to Vitali’s touch, cheek pressing against his palm- slightly turned his head to kiss it, before turning back and gently fixing the collar of Vitali’s shirt for him. Keeping his hands busy; he was nervous.

‘I’m sorry,’ he mumbled, one of his fingers hooking into Vitali’s shirt a little bit and brushing past his collarbone. ‘Shouldn't've doubted you.’

‘Hey,’ Vitali gently interrupted him and placed his hands over Vincent’s, waiting until his attention was back on him. ‘It’s okay. I get it.’

‘No, no- it’s- I just-’

‘All of it.’

He almost startled himself with it; but it was the truth.

No amount of attempting to justify himself and his actions would take away the fact it made sense people had started to doubt him somewhere along the way. If anything, Vitali’s stubbornness had made everything ten times more complicated than had been necessary and he was surprised it hadn’t caused any bigger arguments to break out in all the time that had passed.

‘My family has always been complicated,’ he quietly continued, lowering his gaze and softly running his thumbs over Vincent’s hands. ‘I- I don’t expect you to ever understand and I know what it looks like from the outside. I do. And I can’t blame you at all.’

‘Vito-’

‘I don’t know if I’m making a mistake with this.’ A brief pause, a shaky inhale. ‘I don’t know what is going to happen next, what he will do. What I will do. But I just- I couldn’t kill him.’

‘I know, baby.’

Vincent carefully cupped Vitali’s face in both his hands and leaned in- a brief moment of hesitation, as if they’d been sent back in time and suddenly had only been together for maybe a month or two- and kissed him as sweetly as he always did, the familiar taste of his peach chapstick spilling into Vitali’s mouth as he pulled him closer.

Vitali would be lying if he said he hadn’t been scared he would never get to experience that ever again.

‘Suppose it was complicated for him too,’ Vincent quietly continued, slightly pulling back and brushing his nose past Vitali’s, ‘considering- well, you know. And… I won’t fully understand it, but I understand that. Can’t fuckin’ stand my piece of shit oldest brother but if I’d find him bleeding out I- I also- you know. A little different, of course, but- I get it. I do.’

‘I never meant for any of you to get dragged into all of this,’ Vitali mumbled, keeping his eyes closed as he softly pressed his lips against Vincent’s again. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘You keep apologizing, but none of this is your fault. He started hunting you down- that’s on him.’

‘I should have dealt with things differently-’

‘How?’

Vincent pulled back a little further and Vitali finally opened his eyes, barely able to see his boyfriend through the blur of his own tears.

‘What would you have done differently if you could go back in time?’ Vincent asked, running his thumbs over Vitali’s cheeks. ‘What would you change?’

‘I would… I would’ve…’

He couldn’t finish his sentence.

‘Bit late, don’t you think? Or should I say early?’

Vitali’s eyes fluttered shut and he exhaled deeply, slowly dropping his head against the front door as he closed it with a soft click and reluctantly turned around to face his father- once again already dressed to leave for work, arms crossed in front of his chest.

‘They really wanted me to be there,’ he quietly mumbled in response, wincing slightly when Matvey reached out to grab his jaw and gently run his thumb past a large bruise on his cheek.

‘I can tell,’ he replied. ‘What happened?’

‘Nothing for you to worry about.’

‘Are you alright, at least?’

Vitali clenched his jaw and could not force an answer out of himself.

He wouldn’t have done anything different. And he knew. And he knew that Vincent knew.

Perhaps foolish, or naive- but it had paid off in the end, as messy as it had been. Death happened each and every day in Night City and even fixers weren’t safe from that; a somewhat morbid reminder of that to mercenaries and the Council alike, and if anything it had finally woken them up after who knows how long of being so certain of their own untouchability.

Who knows how it all would have ended, had Vitali done something different? Who would have lived? Who would have died? He was no longer sure what had caused the dominos to fall in the first place- and there had been no way to prevent it from happening, years of events setting it in motion out of itself- and no one had been able to predict where the chain reaction would lead them in the end.

‘Family’s fuckin’ complicated,’ Vincent said, kissing Vitali on the forehead before getting up and walking over into the kitchen to pour the both of them a drink. ‘I’m just glad that it’s over now. And that you’re still with me.’

Vitali absently nodded, gaze wandering off to the large windows along the wall behind him, looking out over the balcony and the pier of Wellsprings, the vast ocean blending in with the dark horizon far outside the city.

And for a brief second, he could feel his entire body freeze, eyes locked onto the darkness ahead and breath caught in his throat; it felt familiar, too familiar, swallowed whole by the endless void with the feeling of eyes staring right back at him, waiting, expectantly.

‘Hey.’

Vincent had walked back to him, concerned frown decorating his brow as he sat back down next to him and gently cupped his cheek to force his gaze away from the ocean and back on him, the warmth of the light above the coffee table causing the uncomfortable feeling in his chest to settle down- but it did not vanish entirely.

‘I love you,’ Vitali quietly said, the words heavy in his mouth as he spoke and he could only barely stop a tear from escaping the corner of his eye when Vincent smiled at him and pulled him closer to his chest, the warmth of his arms finally making Vitali feel at peace again, and at home.

‘And I love you, baby. Not ever gonna change.’

Life in Night City moves fast.

Its endless crowds are an overwhelming presence during every hour of the day, under the sweltering west coast sun as well as under the blinding city lights long after dark. An ever-growing playground for corporations, fixers and fortune seekers alike- the city of dreams that swallows everyone who does not know what they’re getting themselves into whole; without remorse, and without hesitation.

A city where tragedy strikes too often for people to concern themselves with it anymore- most have grown numb after years and years of hearing the same news on the radio, and most know it’s a waste of energy to even try to care. Cut off one head and two take its place; and one seed planted can infect many at once, leaving the source of the problem nearly irrelevant in comparison to what has grown in the meantime.

Impossible to predict and impossible to control. Many have tried- many have failed- from corporations attempting to get inside people’s heads and control their every move from within to a single man taking matters into his own hands to try and rid the streets of its corruption, starting with its intricate network of fixers and mercenaries as a whole.

But in all of that, there are still people who do care. Who choose each other over and over again- who choose life, over and over again- who refuse to be stripped from their humanity and hold on to it as tightly as they hold on to each other through it all.

The city itself might never change. But people can.

That’s what makes us human after all, isn’t it?

#nuclearwriting #rbs much appreciated :) <3 #well. there it is. final chapter. cries #literally nauseous as i'm making this post and also as i'm posting this post i'm so. ough! it's over now huh!! god #i won't ramble about it too much in the tags because i don't want to spoil the experience so i'll make another post about it all later #but for now: thank you all so much for your support through this whole thang i'm very thankful for it <33 #hope you enjoyed the ride as much as i did :)#ch:the broker

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bethanydelleman · 2 years ago

Text

They awe us, these strange stars, so cold, so clear. We are as children whose small feet have strayed into some dim-lit temple of the god they have been taught to worship but know not; and, standing where the echoing dome spans the long vista of the shadowy light, glance up, half hoping, half afraid to see some awful vision hovering there.

And yet it seems so full of comfort and of strength, the night. In its great presence, our small sorrows creep away, ashamed. The day has been so full of fret and care, and our hearts have been so full of evil and of bitter thoughts, and the world has seemed so hard and wrong to us. Then Night, like some great loving mother, gently lays her hand upon our fevered head, and turns our little tear-stained faces up to hers, and smiles; and, though she does not speak, we know what she would say, and lay our hot flushed cheek against her bosom, and the pain is gone.

Three Men in a Boat, Jerome K. Jerome

This book is random (relatable) stupidity intermingled with beautiful near-poetry. Written in this flowing stream of consciousness that prevents you from feeling the emotional whiplash.

#summer reading interlude #three men in a boat #jerome k. jerome #about night and the stars

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bisexual-horror-fan · 2 years ago

Note

BEX!!! Congratulations on hitting 3000! That's fan-FUCKING-tastic...and very much well-deserved.

Now, I'm not here to send you a request, because I'm sure you've already received quite a few by now...but I'd like to take the chance to lovingly (and lustfully) remind you and the fandom of something left...unfinished...something we've talked about recently...a continuation of your sinfully short fic, 'Three Against One'...

'Multi-May' or no 'Multi-May'...this foursome needs to happen...at some point...

I can wait...you know I *adore* anticipation...

Hello Kelly! Day three of Multi-May which means that we have a re-vision of my old fic, Three Against One! Thank you for the excuse to do this, I wanted to do the same thing with Lessons In Faking It because this is gonna get a sequel and finally get that foursome we have all been craving. Plus I have always wanted to expand this, I added 1.5K to the OG and cleaned and changed this up, hope you all dig this updated version and get hyped for the later entry! Also, the council in The Boiler Lounge has made the decision that Sam Wescott and Buddy Swanson and Leslie Vernon’s polyam ship is called Mourning Wood. Enjoy that and this fic.

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Rating. Explicit. Length. 4.5K. Sam Wescott And Buddy Swanson AND Leslie Vernon X AFAB! Reader. They/Them Pronouns. Warnings: Established Relationship. Vacation. Road Trip. Semi-Public To Public Hookups. Exhibitionism. Movie Spoilers. Some Fluff. Strap On Mention. Teasing. Dirty Talk. Buddy Is An Asshole But We Love Him. Threesome. Voyeurism. Outdoor Sex. Stalking. Threat Of Violence. Implied Foursome.

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Three Against One. Again.

—

It was going to be your birthday soon.

Your two boyfriends wanted to do something special for that, they asked what you wanted and upon discussing it you all realised you had some paid vacation time that needed to be spent before the year was up or you would lose it. You thought long and hard about it and came to the conclusion of partaking in a road trip together. You have always had a thing for the macabre and spooky, I mean look at who you were dating, when the secrets about them came out it didn’t scare you off, no, you stuck around happily.

So the purpose of said road trip was to visit a bunch of supposedly haunted locations and do some urban exploring and camping. Buddy was of course very excited about the prospect of this, he hadn’t really done a road trip with anyone else, he did one once, technically, when fleeing Canada post the events of Centre Stage but obviously that one wasn’t very fun. Clutching his barely bandaged wounds with one hand while he drove with the other, leaking blood badly as he drove a stolen car away in desperation of escaping his old life wasn’t a good time.

After he got patched up properly in a gas station bathroom, wrapping hastily bought gauze around his ribs and stomach under flickering lights, he was back in the car. He made the long drive to accept that fateful job at Camp Clear Vista where he met you and Sam wasn’t great either, it was lonely. Even if it did end up leading to the best summer of his life.

He and Camillia always talked about doing a road trip together, seeing some of the other provinces before settling down and opening that restaurant they always talked about. Taking a roadtrip with you and Sam sounded amazing and long overdue, he could hardly wait.

Sam would normally be just as excited, he took a road trip with Chuck once to visit a creepy wax museum she heard about and that was a good time, but that was different. Seeing something that is so obviously fake and an attraction, a controlled and safe environment but what you wanted to do was see some more “real” stuff, it made him nervous. The rest sounded great, long hours in the car, talking and listening to music, trying new food, camping out together, he just wasn’t that excited about the decidedly scary nature you wanted everything to take.

He tried to hide this. He did so poorly.

Sam Wescott was good at a lot of things, chopping wood, taking care of kids, starting a fire, hiding his emotions was not chief among them. His nerves were the most noticeable when you were all packing up the car, he had already agreed, you all took the time off, were gearing up to leave and he was chewing his bottom lip nervously, clearly lost in thought.

Buddy used this as a perfect opportunity to come up behind him, throw an arm around his shoulder, hooking around him, opposite hand resting on his chest as he leaned in close, “Awe Sammy baby, you look tense, what’s up?” Classic Buddy, the way he cooed that so easily and teasingly to Sam.

Sam turned his head, caught Buddy’s gaze, “Oh uh, sorry Buddy, just um…Thinking is all.” You rolled your eyes as you finally closed the trunk, coming over to Buddy and Sam as you say, “You are always thinking Sam, thinking way too much.”

“I agree, you gotta turn that brain off sometimes! It’s gonna be a great time man, relax.” Buddy’s hands rested on Sam’s shoulder next, giving a reassuring squeeze, and you backed him up, “Seriously, it is gonna be awesome. Calm down.”

You had slid right in front of him, you were holding Sam’s hands as you looked up at him and he let out a sigh, conceding.

“Yeah, yeah you’re right. Sorry, I know it’s gonna be a lotta fun.” Buddy pressed a kiss to his cheek and said, “Atta boy! Now come on, let’s hit the road, you got the first driving shift.”

And so off you all went and as soon as you were an hour into the trip Sam was wondering what he was so worried about. This was great, you next to him and Buddy in the back, alternating playing some of your music and talking, it felt good, felt right and relaxing, very needed, time away from all the bullshit stress of normal life and just being with his two favourite people.

“No, no, I am vetoing this-” Buddy argued as he held up the CD case of the disc you were trying to load into the player of the car’s dash, you ask, “What? You only get one veto a day and you are using it now? On fucking ABBA?”

Buddy shoved the case into your hand and sat back saying, “Yes I am vetoing ABBA, we are not listening to Super Trooper before ten in the morning.”

Sam couldn’t stop the smile that crossed his face, looking over to the pair of you playfully bickering about what CD to listen to in place of the one Buddy smacked down. Yeah, this was going to be a good trip.

You of course felt the same way. It was all great and you had a fun time on your first few stops, Sam even giving it up that it wasn’t bad doing it with you both. He still insisted on holding one of your hands while you wandered around some burnt out building but you and Buddy didn’t mind, and only handed out minimal teasing for it too.

The stopping at different restaurants Buddy had picked out while planning your route was thoroughly enjoyable for all of you, his pre-trip research paid off and you all ate at some great hole in the wall joints.

Staying in the occasional motel when the weather was bad enough that setting up camp for the night wasn’t feasible did end up happening a few times. The first time you checked into one a few days into the trip, Buddy dropped his duffle bag by the door, whipped off his rain soaked windbreaker, tossing it aside and then leaping at the bed and before you or Sam could question his enthusiasm it became all too clear. Leaning on one hand and the other rested on his hip he asked, in an intentionally comical pose, “What do you think? Is the bed big enough that you could both fuck me at the same time comfortably?”

You dropped your own bag as Sam scoffs, “I doubt it, look at you man! You’re what, like 6’3?”

Buddy cuts in, “6’2 actually-”

“Right, I’m worried about you being able to sleep comfortably on the thing, forget getting fucked.” You interject asking, “And how are we supposed to do that, exactly?”

Buddy gasped, “No! Don’t tell me you forgot the strap-on!” You and Sam were already cracking up as he carried on, somehow still able to joke like this after hours in the car, “Oh my God, well, the vacation is called off.” He rolled off the bed and headed for the bathroom before you or Sam had even caught your breath.

Once clean and settled down you were cuddled up in a bed just a bit too small for three, all tangled limbs and being impossibly close was cosy. The many other nights spent in the tent together, all having employed that trick Sam learned for zipping multiple sleeping bags together to make one big enough for three, were Sam’s favourites.

Not to mention all of the illicit hooking up. In that tent you and Sam and Buddy caught up, mid-make-out, one of his hands between your legs and with Buddy’s between Sam’s, feverish passing back and forth and hands all busy.

In or rather on the car, you bent over the hood with Buddy behind you and Sam watching, his own hand busy while you are all under the stars.

In alleyways next to bars or restaurants you just paid patronage to, and one really risky one in the handicap stall of a bathroom in a diner, you nearly got caught and after the person left without detecting you, the rest of said hookup finished safely back in your tent at the camp you set up.

Exploring and hiking was fun, you were all safe and doing it together, some of the locations you wanted to scope out were really cool and you brought along your camera, got some great pictures. Sam confessed while you were all at the highest point of a trail you’d just walked, looking down at the picturesque woods, that this was the best vacation he ever had and was glad you and Buddy pushed him to do this. He was happy, nerves totally forgotten.

Until the day of your actual birthday. The big stop this had been leading up to, you wanted to stop in Glen Echo and check out the Vernon farm. Initially Sam was excited about it, a farm, how nice and quaint, you even mentioned there was an apple orchard, apple picking sounded awesome.

You all pulled up and you seemed so giddy, you practically bolted from the car.

He didn’t realise why you were so excited about it until you all started walking around and you began enthusiastically explaining the history of the farm and about who used to live here. Big gestures of your hands as you went and explained about Leslie and the documentary and everything.

You walked about the grounds, rattling off what you knew, taking stops along the way to expound further, “And he would fuck with the branches of the trees so if anyone made an attempt to get down from the second floor they would break-” Buddy would, “Ooo-” appropriately and Sam’s face would lose a little more colour.

The walk continued, you giving as much detail as possible and Buddy nodded along, still smiling, clearly loving how passionate and happy you were to be here, even chiming in on what he thought was particularly interesting and cool.

Sam got more and more nervous as you all walked around. Funny thing considering his own past but that wasn’t him, not REALLY, it was the Wood Carver’s mask who possessed him, under normal circumstances he would never do what happened back then.

You finally were all standing in front of the burnt remains of the cider house, “And then Tayor apparently crushed his head with the cider press and set the whole building ablaze!”

Buddy was impressed, saying in response, “Damn. See the more you talk about this Taylor the more I like her, she sounds really tough.”

“Right?! She’s the coolest!” You exclaimed and Buddy looked over to the third and much more quiet one in your group.

Buddy nudged you, your head turning as Sam chimed in asking, “So Leslie is dead, right?”

You and Buddy stared at him for a moment, his eyes forward, nervous look clear on his face, surely his mind going a mile a minute, and then you and Buddy shared a look of your own, a small smirk from you, a raise of his eyebrows and you are on the same page. You say, “Well that is what they SAY but his body went missing.”

Buddy put on an air of faux concern as he said, clearly playing it up, hands coming up to his face, “Oh no, his body went missing?!”

You stifled a giggle and leaned closer into Sam who was going just a little pale, “Never recovered it to this day. We think we are alone here but who knows!”

That is when Buddy asked excitedly, “So you wanna camp here tonight, yeah? Spend the night?” You agreed immediately and enthusiastically, arms out stretched, “Oh yeah of course!”

Sam glanced at you, eyes wide, “You really want to? You sure you don’t wanna maybe stay at that B and B we saw on the way into town?”

“Very sure Sam.” You confirmed with a confident nod and Buddy was saying then, more playfully, clapping your shared boyfriend on the shoulder, “C’mon Sam it’s their birthday and they wanna stay at the creepy murder farm.”

“Yeah Sam! I wanna stay at the creepy murder farm!” You agree and he sighs heavily.

“Sorry I am not that enthusiastic about spending the night where several people were killed-” Buddy cocked his head to the side as he fired back with, “And yet we keep on returning to Camp Clear Vista every year.”

Sam had to give him that. He knew there was no winning against Buddy’s stubbornness along with your birthday wish so he agreed, tone a mix of frustration and resignation, “Alright, we should unpack and set up camp before it gets dark.”

“Hell yes! Thank you Sammy.” You leaned up and pressed a kiss to his lips and Buddy parroted what you said, smiling as his hand came up and ruffled Sam’s short hair in the way he knew bugged him, “Yeah thanks Sammy!”

Sam swatted Buddy away but he was smiling now, clearly fond.

So the rest of the afternoon was dedicated to setting up the camp.

You chose a place in between the barn and the apple orchard, you dug the fire pit, Buddy put up the tent, and Sam, taking a fallen tree he had found, managed to split some of it up to make some logs for you all to sit on around the fire as well as using it for some actual fire wood. It was nice but Sam still seemed nervous, kept looking like something was off, even with the axe in his hands. You and Buddy did your best to distract him but it didn’t seem to be working very well.

Hours later, it was after dinner, the fire was going and it was dark out.

You and Buddy had run to the car to get a bag of marshmallows to roast for dessert and on the way back to the fire you spoke up, “We gotta get Sam to chill out.”

Buddy sighed “God, right? He is going full Wescott right now.” You laugh but smack him on the shoulder, “Okay well don’t say that to him, you know he hates when you say that shit.”

“Well maybe if he didn’t go Wescott so often then we wouldn’t have had to attach his name to it-” You give him an unimpressed look, “Hilarious Buddy, truly, but c’mon, we need to help the guy out not make this worse.”

He groans and you sing-song out, “It’s my birthday-”

“I’m just messing around, you’re right, we should help not hurt, I will be nice.” He concedes, both hands up and you say, “Thank you cream puff.”

He gags and then says, “Oh my fucking God, what was that about being nice and not doing things your boys hate?”

“Ha, I said not doing things Sam hates, and what, you don’t like my pet names?” You ask and he says, “They are just soooo overly cutesy and sickeningly sweet-”

“Come on Buddy bon-bon baby, lighten up.” You tease and he stops walking, “I will vomit, right here.”

“No you won’t, not after you worked so hard on that dinner.” You say and he hangs his head before starting to walk again, “You’re right again, stop being right all the time.”

“Nope, it’s my birthday, I’m allowed.” You assert and then ask, “So how are we fixing this for him?”

Buddy hums, head coming up and after a moment he grins, looking over to you, “Overwhelm him?”

“Oh I love how you think.”

Your goal is to get him out of his head and relax, let him enjoy the evening as much as you had both been. The approach is easy, made sure he could hear you coming, didn’t want to frighten him further and you sat down next to him and he was quick to say, “I swear to God I heard something just now.”

Buddy sat on the other side of him, too close, pressing Sam between you and him as he said, “Uh yeah man, probably us.”

Sam scoffed, “No not you two, when you were outta earshot I could have sworn I heard someone, out there-” He gestured out the orchard and you shrugged, “Probably an animal or something. Don’t worry about it.”

That is when you made your move, leaning in, one hand to Sam’s cheek, pulling him closer and your mouth meeting his neck, you beginning to kiss makes his sentence stop short while Buddy’s hand sliding up his inner thigh made his breath catch already and you said into his skin, “What did we tell you Sam?”

A lick over his pulse point and a soft bite that made him tense under your touch and he stuttered out, “I’ll uh, be honest. I can-can’t really remember at the moment-”

You are busy with your task but you can picture his expression right now, brows furrowed, eyes closed and lips parted, totally swept up and thoroughly him and adorable, it makes you smile against his throat.

Buddy was there backing you up the way you usually did for him, “That you need to relax. Turn off that brain-” Buddy’s hand was between Sam’s legs now, palming his already hardening dick through his shorts as he added on, “-we can help you with that.”

It did sound appealing. He still had nerves and reservations but as you and Buddy both worked him over, hands roaming and wandering, tugging at his clothing, you kissing and biting his neck and Buddy’s fingers under Sam’s chin tilting him to give him a lazy and slow kiss on the mouth, definite heat behind it? Sam slowly started to let go, moaning into the kiss and returning it.

You and Buddy should have heeded Sam’s warnings, should have listened. Sam’s nervousness has validity to it, you weren’t alone and hadn’t been all day, he was right there, watching you. He was taking his time, he was used to the occasional gawkers and you three seemed harmless so he hadn’t done anything yet.

He thought you were all rather bold setting up camp for the night, he had every intention of stepping in and having some fun of his own but he didn’t expect such a show. The three of you had been really close and touchy sure but he didn’t think it was like this, that you were all together. He was interested. Honestly your timing couldn’t have been better, he was going to make his move right before you made yours and now he couldn’t stop watching.

Leslie had a thing for watching, a definite and total textbook voyeur, couldn’t help how hard he got off on it. You had already caught his eye earlier, so now seeing you making a move to get on your knees, starting to undo the shorts to get what you really wanted, about to start putting your mouth to good use, of course he wanted to stay quiet and see how this unfolded.

He watched as that curly haired man, Buddy, he overheard, was pulling back, one hand in the other man, Sam’s, hair as he started to whisper what he was certain were filthy things in his ear.

Leslie watched the way Sam flushed, lifting his hips to help you slide his shorts down, he couldn’t look away as you took his cock in your hand, leaning in, giving what looked to be a loving lick over the head before it disappeared between your lips. You started to take more, slide him in deeper, your hand around the base starting to stroke and he could hear the groan Sam let out, watched as Buddy’s head tilted back with a laugh.

You didn’t blow him for long before Buddy was whispering something to Sam, a grin on his face and finally that pulls his gaze from you between his legs to the other man sitting next to him, a nod, and the look of near awe and affection overtakes when he drops to his knees at your side to join in. Fuck, you and he shared him and that was something else. So they weren’t just sharing you, no, it seems like you all share each other.

The view was so good that Leslie couldn’t help palming himself through his overalls, couldn’t help coming closer, wanted to get a better look, hear some of what you were all saying. You were all distracted. He was able to manage it even more easily than normal.

By the time he was close enough, you had your fingers in Buddy’s curls, pushing him down so he was swallowing more of Sam’s cock and you said, “God, can’t he take it just so well? Almost puts me to shame.”

Sam lets out this delicious sounding moan, a small nod, still just mesmerised by the view in front of him. Gasping out, “So-so good.”

He rocked his hips up once and looked so lost in the feeling of it. He looked overwhelmed, Leslie wondered if what he said next was because he was sweet, concerned and selfless or trying to stave off cumming too fast with two talented mouths working over him. “We should be focusing on you, it’s your birthday right?”

“The man has a point.” You agree and Buddy was pulling off Sam’s dick with a wet pop and a nod, “He is right, we should be focusing on you.”

And just like that the attention was turned to you.

The speed is impressive, the way they worked together on you still had a way of taking you by surprise. They shared you exceptionally well and after so long were able to move together with you with total ease. You were pulled into Sam’s lap, he was kissing you and had his hands up your shirt in short order and Buddy was pressed behind you, his hands working on getting into your pants and you looked really damn good in that moment.

Your eyes falling closed, pressing closer to one and then the other, allowing yourself to bask in their attention, letting yourself to freely express how they made you feel, soft moans and gasping breaths, calling out their respective names in utter reverence as they pleasured you. Sam’s tongue in your mouth, Buddy had a hand in your shorts and was obviously fingering you, whispering more filth into your ears. Sam had only paused making out with you to get your shirt and bra off, tossing them aside, his hands and mouth working in tandem on your newly exposed chest. Hands cup, thumbs brush over your nipples in between indulgent sucks. This live show has Leslie’s overalls feeling far too tight.

Buddy is speaking up louder, Leslie is treated to this exchange, “Fuck, Sam, can you hear how wet they are?”

Sam pulls back, a breathy laugh, “I sure can, how you feeling?” He asks and you nod, “Mm, good, real good, ha-harder?”

“Yeah I can do that for you.” Buddy’s arm picks up the pace, your hips buck and you moan much louder, crying out a thank you and Sam’s mouth is latched back onto you.

You were squirming and moaning, grinding yourself between them and it looked like it was going to keep escalating, Leslie is convinced that you would be getting fucked out in the open by the both of them at once and fuck, it was too much.

Leslie moved quietly and carefully, and came around the fire so slowly, sickle at the ready. When he was right behind Buddy he moved forward. Sickle slices through the air, metal came down and lodged in the wood log Sam was seated on, it made the three of you jump, a frantic look and as soon as your eyes fell to him you said, “Leslie?”

Of course you recognized him. He was leaning against the handle of his sickle still stuck in the wood, stance was very casual as he said, “Hey. Hear you are a big fan. How are you enjoying your stay?”

To say you were taken aback was an understatement. Total shock, not sure what to respond with, Leslie would be lying if he said he didn’t find that at least a little bit cute, how much he got the drop on you. “Well?”

He prompted and you swallowed, Sam’s hands were covering your tits now, shielding you before you were saying, “Uh good? Real, uhm, real good.”

“Yeah I was gonna say, looks like you are all having a really good time.” He leaned down, his face much closer to yours, his eyes were interesting, full of something you wished you could define but can’t, maybe you were too shocked, his smile is however undeniably mischievous. Leslie speaks again, “So much fun I wanted to give you an offer.”

“An offer?” Buddy inquired, confused, clearly his own mind reeling and trying to contend with all this, and Leslie continued, “Yeah. See I was going to have a good time with you three tonight until you started doing all of this-”

He ripped his sickle up, you all jump and he laughs, he gestures to you with his weapon of choice, still half dressed in Sam’s lap, the three of you still pressed pretty closely together, “-but I gotta say that you all present a much better option, one that doesn’t come around here often.”

You picked up what he was putting down immediately. A phrase you had seen once before clear in your mind, fuck to survive.

The thing is you would have been down even without the potential threat of violence, although considering your choice in partners, the threat helps rather than hurts. Leslie is playing with the sickle, fingering the end of it as he is looking you all over, clearly enjoying the dynamic at hand, the power he holds in this moment, the potential of the night spread before you all. “Besides, I think it is awfully gauche to kill someone on their birthday, right?”

Gauche or not all you could think was how you were about to get simultaneously wrecked and spoiled all at once. Happy fucking birthday to you. A verbal response wasn’t what you have, what you did do was reach out, fingers caught in the torn collar of his shirt and you pulled him forward and down, giving your consent with your mouth in a different but entirely welcome fashion.

Sam was wrong, it was gonna be a good night, you could tell.

#Mourning Wood #BHF asks #Multi-May #Darklylucid #Slasher x reader #Sam Wescott X reader #Buddy Swanson X Reader #Poly!Camping Boys x reader #BHF writing

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nomorefstogive · 8 months ago

Text

Through Love, Perfection. r/PrimarchGF and Female Primarch AU inspired story.

Hello all, this is a ficlet I made recently that I thought I would share here, I copy pasted it from the word doc hence the author's notes and such, that said please enjoy and let me know what you think of this mess of an idea.

P.S. Muse is the fan name given to female Fulgrim's lover by the community at r/PrimarchGF. I have gone ahead and made them gender neutral for this fic, though I might make them female in future ones.

Author’s Note: Well, this is certainly a surprise, we have to admit that we never thought the day would come when we would write for the 40k fandom as, despite our own fondness for the setting, we lack an enormous amount of knowledge on it and simply did not know where to start with ideas for it.

And then we saw a most interesting post on the r/GrimDank Subreddit, a post that opened doors to vistas untouched and undreamdt of by us, each one bringing forth more and more ideas as we watched a new setting grow.

Ladies, gentlemen, non-gendered individuals, those between, and all those others, we welcome you one and all to our first fic for the PrimarchGF AU!

Created by the wonderful community of the namesake subreddit, after we began to grow a little too large to be contained on r/GrimDank, and with the foundations of it having been laid down by the wonderfully talented u/Sweet_Older-Sister, this is a setting that has such potential for angst and wholesomeness, that we would be foolish to not throw our hat into the ring.

This particular ficlet, is inspired by the reddit post found at https://www.reddit.com/r/Grimdank/comments/1cr6hfl/it_would_work_and_you_know_it/ made by: AAABIXIX. All credit to this idea goes to them, though I feel my own take on it is vastly different than what they, or myself from when I initially thought of it, had in mind.

We also have to thank the community of the PrimarchGF Subreddit and of Cryptek-01, who has gathered a list of the communities names, for the names used for the female Primarchs, link to post: https://www.reddit.com/r/PrimarchGFs/comments/1cypo6g/i_made_a_list_of_names_for_femprimarchs_and_their/

Yet, as with all our tales, it seems that it has a mind of its own, what started as a simple tale of vanity being both bane and hero, became something else entirely, and while we are yet confused as to how we got here, we hope you all enjoy this mess of a tale.

That said, we feel we should make clear that we are quite inexperienced with the characters of 40k, at least in terms of writing their personalities and such, and so we have given our own twist to some of them in this tale.

Similarly, we have also taken the liberty of altering the timeline, and editing the events that took place across said timeline to better fit with the image present within our mind for the setting of this short tale.

If such heavy OOCness and AU disturbs your reading experience we apologize, and hope that you at least take a quick look at the r/PrimarchGF subreddit and at its illustrious prophetess’ profile, please go and show her some love my friends she deserves it for blessing us with this.

If you are yet here, and have steeled yourself for whatever form of atrocity against literature it is that we have written, then we thank you for giving us a chance and hope you enjoy our little tale of-

Through Love, Perfection.

TW for Implied Sexual content and mentions of blood and gore, along with a few mentions of violent thoughts. I think that is all.

“In All Things, Perfection.” Thus was the Creed of the Empress's Daughters, and of the Matriarch who led them forth across the stars to fulfill the great vision her mother had shown to her children once all had been gathered and their crusade readied, to usher forth a perfect golden age for mankind once more.

Yet this creed did not just extent to the fields of war, upon which they left tableau’s of horror and vistas of carnage of such grandeur that none could deny that their talents in war were of sublime status, but also to all other such things that their Matriarch had taught them.

Poetry, sculpture, painting, dance, singing, it was easier to list a field within which the Matriarch of the Empress’s Daughters did not excel, and which she had taught her children to similarly excel, the Phoenician having guided her progeny to such a degree that were one not to see them in their armor, or the sanguine wake left behind them, they would be scarce to believe such marvelous artisans were instruments of hellish carnage.

Yet, for all that she aspired to perfection ever did it elude her reaching hands, slipping free as an oil coated serpent, stalling but long enough to mock her with its flickering forked tongue before once more eluding her despite how hard she had pursued it.

‘Never enough, always better, always better, it could always be better’, such were the thoughts that echoed within her head near to every hour of each day, mocking her with coy and pompous voices that drove her ever forward, desperate to at last achieve that which had eluded her.

And perhaps, in another, much darker timeline, it would have been that which had lead to her fall from grace and descent into wanton hedonism and debauchery, her mind warping and being rent asunder under the seductive whispers of the servants of Chaos.

Yet, not in this one.

For as she rose from her bed, skin bare of cover but the bites and scratches that she had willed to not heal for she wished to relish in their delightful aches and stings a bit longer, the saint mix of painful pleasure being enough to help her awaken swiftly as she sat about her preparations for what was to come.

Below the great fleet that was her children’s armada, there laid a world that they had recently brought back into the fold of the Imperium, no blood having need be shed as the people below, long alone and afraid, had welcomed them as heroes and saviors, having rid them of long standing oppressors of the nearby worlds before their arrival.

And thus they had brought the world into the fold much sooner than they had expected to, indeed, they had anticipated much steeper resistance given the neighboring worlds own acts of futile rebellion, though they were not complaining for now they not only had time to rest and relax before they resumed their campaign, but also to indulge in celebrations due to commence the next day.

So it was that across the ships that made up their fleet, not only were preparations for their next push forward commencing, but so were preparations for the celebration to come as the Astartes chose their outfits and and cosmetics for the party, or relaxed and allowed for themselves to indulge in their arts for a while before they had to depart to the world below and then forward once more.

With fingers more dexterous than one would assume given their size, and an equally startling silence, the Phoenician opened the great dark wooden wardrobe in which she had carefully arranged a pair of clothes for the celebration to come, looking over them and making certain that they were in immaculate condition.

Upon her satisfaction of their status of being free of flaw, Fulgrim closed the doors to her dresser and turned towards her vanity, swiftly and silently striding towards it as she looked over the gathered cosmetic items and jewelry, each perfectly arranged and neatly ordered for their usage in the coming days.

Everything was prepared, their clothes were selected and sealed up such that they would not acquire any wrinkles before the day of the celebration on the planet below them, cosmetics and jewelry neatly ordered, and yet still…

Even as she looked over the clothes that she had so meticulously selected, the makeup designed to make her already striking features even more radiant, and the jewelry meant to make her and her other half as radiant as the stars, she could still feel as though something was missing.

A sigh slipped past her lips as she brought her hand to her forehead, fingers gently kneading the skin as she closed her eyes and tried to focus on what it was that would complete their outfits, what it was that would make them perfect.

Violet eyes slowly opened, and raked over the room, pausing but to alight with a warm glow of joy as she saw her darling’s form concealed by blankets and pillows laying on their bed, no doubt yet still worn out from their actions the night previous.

Unbidden, a chuckle slipped past her lips as the image of her lover, adorned with bites and bruises looking up at her with a pouting face as they weakly beat on her chest with their hands.

“You said…my turn to top…” Her hand had to cover her lips to prevent her chuckles from growing in volume as she recalled the absolutely adorable way her lover had tried and failed to convince her to let them continue so they could have their chance on top even as they drifted off to sleep beneath her as she watched with smug delight.

She truly had meant to let them be on top, but they were just so adorable as they writhed beneath her, how could she have passed up the opportunity to savor their expressions, their taste, their-

Fulgrim shook her head, while normally she would take the chance to revel in the memories of last night, and perhaps to give her lover something beautiful to wake up to as her moans brought them into wakefulness and into her arms, she yet still felt that nagging sensation and so she instead allowed her gaze to wander once more.

Faintly, she felt a sensation, as though a gentle caress upon her cheek by a silken hand unseen, that bid her to turn to look at the display case that rested across the room from her, and the treasure held within it.

A prize won through blood and tears and misery, and one that she had taken quite the fancy to at first sight, even if her darling disagreed with her on its beauty, claiming that it clashed horribly with her armor and that the flaming blade she had forged with Ferrus long ago made her much more radiant, indeed it was because of that disagreement, and the threat of involuntary abstinence for several weeks, that she had not taken to wearing the blade as she had wished.

Of course, there was reason beyond mere vanity that lent credence to her darling’s desire for her to avoid the blade, as not only was it of Xeno origin, but it also gave off a sensation that, while to her was appealing, was to her beloved revolting, and thus her caution on the matter.

In truth, she had meant to have it sealed in the storage bay, but she had decided that it was safest where she could see it, no one could get into her chambers without her or her Muse knowing, and even if they did, they would find quite the marvelous surprise awaiting them when they did open the container without the proper key.

Something she had no interest in contending with, as she unconsciously began to open the container and reach out her hand, a part of her yearn, begging her in silent desperation, to touch the hilt of the sword, to give in to that hypnotic allure that so sweetly beckoned her to-

“What did I say would happen if you touched that sword before it got looked at?” The Matriarch of the Empress’s Children jolted slightly at the voice that came from the corner of the room, her hand recoiling from the case she had been reaching for as eyes the color of violet lightning turning to alight upon the form that sat upon the bed, swaddled in blankets of silken cloth and rich fur, and surrounded by plush pillows easily double the length of their body as they leaned against the headboard of the titanic bed.

The Matriarch's lips curled up into a smile as she saw her Muse adjusting themselves ever so slightly, a low groan slipping from their lips as they did so, eyes keen beyond all form of human understanding easily able to pierce through the shadows that concealed their face from the blankets draped over them and to meet the pair of rather tired looking eyes that stared back at her with no small amount of irritation present.

She could not help but allow her smile to grow a little bit as she recalled exactly why it was that her other half was so weary and covering themself in their blankets to ward off the chill of her room, and more importantly gazing at her with such a delicious look upon their face.

Truly it was no fault of hers that her lover was so breathtaking, and what kind of connoisseur of art would she be if she did not show such a marvelous piece of artwork the reverence it was due as she laid mark upon mark of affirmation and adoration upon her lover’s bare form until no longer could they deny their own beauty and worth.

So deep was the Matriarch's recollection of the previous evening’s events, or perhaps it had been the entire day, neither of them could reliably tell and none of the Matriarch’s daughters would dare to interrupt them during a moment of passion unless it was absolutely necessary, several bolter rounds and a flaming sword flung at them the first and only time they had done so insuring their privacy from then on, that she missed her lover reiterating their question to her several times.

Beneath the cloak of silk, fur, and cloth eyes narrowed in irritation as once more the Muse of the Phoenician repeated their query to their lover, taking acute notice of the both the absence of a forthcoming reply and of just where it was that their lover’s eyes were lingering on as they calmly took a deep breath before-

“Fulgrim.”

They called out again, this time their tone was coated in both no small amount of exasperation, a faint undercurrent of irritation further making clear their feelings on the matter of their lover having lost herself to her own fantasies as opposed to answering them.

The Matriarch felt a not so small chill run down her spine, mind racing as she tried to recall just what it was her lover had said, though much to her despair there came no light of clarity or spark of realization, something which her lover quickly registered as well as they began to shift and stir.

The Matriarch could not stop herself from licking her lips at the scene of her lover wearing silken blankets as a gown to cover themself as they began to stride towards her, their movements slow and, at least to the Matriarch, ominous in their approach, as the formation of a thunder head afore a storm, or the faintest hum of wrongness that heralded the Materium and Immaterium being rent asunder as Chaos sallied forth to assault them once more.

As bare feet glided delicately across the richly carpeted floor, the silken sheets shifting and swaying in a spectral breeze, the delicate motions of silk upon bare skin making Fulgrim swallow once more as she watched with dreadful anticipation as her lover drew near, each second an eternity as her lover’s eyes met her own with veiled intentions that made the Matriarch’s heart thunder.

The thundering of her heart and the racing of her blood did not to drown out the siren song of silken sin that caressed her ears as her lover at last drew to stand before her, barely a third of the towering Matriarch’s height and yet somehow managing to project such a presence that even she, the most beautiful and most might Phoenician, felt as though it were her that was the smaller of the pair.

With hands so impossibly small in comparison to her own that barely could the delicate fingers wrap around but two of her fingers, let alone her entire hand, her lover gripped her hands and directed them to where they belonged, one to their shoulder and one to their hip as they bid her lean down such that their lips could meet, the Muse assuming the role of conductor and director of this intimate dance for several moments, lasting far longer than a normal mortal should have been able to without breaking for breath before they at last parted.

Eyes of violet and eyes concealed in shade both alighted on the thin strand of saliva that linked their lips for but the briefest of moments before it parted, the pair taking a moment to regain themselves before their gazes met once more, Fulgrim’s apologetic and her Muse’s own somewhat calmed in their irritation, though yet still narrowed.

“Apologies darling, I lost myself in marveling at the wonder befo-” Fulgrim found her words cut off as a hand lifted to place itself against her face, index finger gently coming to rest against her lips in a gesture of silence, shadowed eyes narrowing further as the Matriarch was unable to fight her urge to take the tip of the finger into her lips and begin to suckle upon it as her lover heaved a sigh before speaking.

“Why is it that everything that comes out of your mouth is either flirtatious or horribly annoying dear?” The Muse murmured to themself in question, the towering Matriarch merely smirking once more at the query as she indulged herself in suckling on the finger between her lips for a moment longer before she released it as she pulled her lover close to her, the hands not resting on each others hips moving to intertwine as they looked into one another’s eyes.

“I don’t hear you complaining, my dear.” The Phoenician said as her smirk turned to a smile as she saw her lover sigh once more, the corners of their own lips curling up into a small smile of their own as they leaned in to rest their forehead against their lovers own, their eyes drifting shut for several moments as the pair basked in the silent affirmation of their bond.

Yet, even as she held the one so dear to her oh so close, humming a melodious if nonsensical tune low in her throat as she idly swayed along with her darling Muse, their came to the Phoenician a sensation of something missing, a nagging and itching sensation that made her feel no small amount of unease, though she allowed none of it to permeate through her as she held her love close.

It would not do to frighten her Muse, least of all over what could more than likely be nothing but her forgetting something once again, something she felt had begun to do more commonly of late…hmm…perhaps she should consider taking some time off and taking her lover to visit one of the worlds in the Imperium, she had heard that one was soon to be celebrating a festival of some kind, surely she cou-

“If you keep thinking so hard, you’re going to hurt yourself and miss the party tomorrow my love.” Fulgrim sighed as she opened her eyes to look at her lover, faux hurt coloring her face for a moment as she watched her lover arch and eyebrow at her, their gaze daring her to speak up, a dare she could not possibly turn down.

“Oh? But if I get hurt then surely you would stay with me my Muse. Afterall, who would be there to nurse me back to health if not you my dear?” Fulgrim asked her lover with a delicate and pleading tone, eyes wide and innocent, or at least as innocent as she could make them, though her lover only blinked at the scene before them before the leveled an expression as flat as the plains her sister had taken to riding with her children and lover across of late.

“Hmm, perhaps I should ask Bile to take a look at you after all. If you think I am going to miss watching your sisters making fools of themselves as they try to court their lovers, then you are madder than those fools who think Rus is the dominant one in her relationship.” The Muse could not stop the low chuckle that slipped past their lips as they saw Fulgrim look at them with a faintly betrayed expression on her face, though soon she joined them in their chuckling as she thought of the spectacles that were sure to occur at the party to come.

Indeed she could not fault them for wishing to not miss the spectacles to come, especially given the whispers she had heard regarding the disaster that was Regalia Dorn being drug their by her own lover, well that and her Muse had a valid point regarding her wild sister, the woman wore a damn collar under her armor wherever she went for their Mother’s sake!

Soon it was that their chuckles tapered off into a comfortable silence as the pair leaned against one another in silence, unconsciously moving to rest their foreheads against one another in a somewhat awkward pose, though neither cared for how they looked so long as they could enjoy the feeling of one another's warmth.

Yet eventually there came the time when the Muse pulled back with a low sigh once more slipping past their lips, Fulgrim letting out a low whimper as she chased them once more, only to be halted by a finger resting itself against her forehead as her lover spoke up once more.

“And speaking of the party, I thought you were going to be dressing to impress, especially given how Ferrus has been boasting about the beauty of the set of armor her assistant and her have forged. Or have you decided to take pity on your sister and allow her this victory my love?” The words came with a slightly teasing lilt to them, though there was an underlying seriousness to the words that lent weight enough to them for the Matriarch to focus on them.

The words prompted Fulgrim to blink at her lover in confusion as she turned to look over her attire once more in the mirror, standing to her full height as she pulled her lover against her as she pictured what they would look like at the gala.

“I don’t understand darling. With what I have in mind you and I will certainly be the ones to steal the show, assuming Mother does not deign to show up.” The Pheonician said as she mentally pictured the attire she had in mind over her lover, a perfect match for her own attire, and one that she had enjoyed the challenge of making, especially given that it had one the approval of the critic that her Muse could be.

Indeed, it was that critical nature that lead her to lending her ears to her lover’s words, the very nature that had drawn her to them when they had critiqued one of her works before her as her daughters watched on in shock at the scene of the fragile mortal critiquing their perfectionist mother’s work to her own face.

They had expected her to snap at them, to yell and curse or draw her blade and decapitate them, and instead had been rewarded with the sight of their mother asking for the counsel of the smaller figure in regards to how to improve her next work, something which had heralded the start of their relationship.

And now she once more welcomed their judgment, though she had to bite down the urge to snap at them, something which made her brow furrow further, she must be more stressed than she had previously thought.

‘Yes,’ Fulgrim thought to herself. ‘Once this gala is done, we'll take some time off to rest and unwind, maybe we’ll even be able to see that play we have been looking at, I’ll have tickets for the three of…no two of us booked.’ A hand came to rest upon her brow as she heaved another sigh, yes a break would do her good, especially if she was starting to think like that.

Perhaps she should corner Sanguinia, Volkana, and Magna and ask them their counsel on just what it was that could be plaguing her, the three had long proven themselves the most adept at helping their sisters find what it was that was plaguing them in terms of emotions and thoughts.

“Fulgrim!” The uncharacteristically sharp tone of her Muse’s voice caused the Matriarch to jolt once more, her head shaking from side to side as she re-focused herself on the present and her lover, who was now gazing at her with open concern on their face.

“Sorry dear, my mind wandered for a moment.” The Matriarch said as she offered her lover a smile, trying to reassure them and herself at the same time, the unease she had been feeling rapidly vanishing as she took in the concern and care in her lover’s eyes as they reached up and delicately laid their hand against her cheek.

“That…has been happening too much of late.” Her Muse narrowed their eyes at her as they gently rubbed their thumb against her cheek for several moments before they closed their own eyes and offered up a weary sigh as they shook their head and took a moment to compose themself before speaking up once more.

“Once this is done we’re taking vacation, our children can handle any matters that come up, and if it comes to it Ferrus and her brats owe us enough favors that we could have them take over any campaigns that crop up while we are off for months to come.” Fulgrim could not stop a chuckle from slipping past her lips at the last bit of her lover’s statement as she leaned down to rest her forehead against her lover’s once more, sighing as her Muse let out a low hum as the pair allowed their eyes to drift shut for a moment before they parted once more.

“I was just considering the same thing my dear, we could visit your home world and see what new travesties they have allowed into their ‘Grand Gallery’ surely it would be an entertaining visit.” Fulgrim could not stop herself from chuckling once more as her lover narrowed her eyes at her in a scathing glare at the remark about both her homeworld and their gallery.

“I hope for your sake my dear,” Fulgrim could not stop the shiver that ran down her at the delicious sensations that hearing that voice turn from gentle silk to a frigid whip crack, “that you solely mean my coworkers allowed travesties into the gallery, I would hate to have to discipline you otherwise.”

Fulgrim could not stop the smile that began to form on her face as she looked down at the narrowed glare her lover was giving her, a gaze of such frigid sharpness that it would drive any normal being to quake in unease and dread, she had even seen it make her daughters feel unease and that was no small feat, that left a shudder of desire wracking her frame.

Though soon it was that the smile that adorned the Matriarch’s face twisted in a look of faux hurt as her lover reached up to flick her forehead as their own lips curled into a slightly vengeful smirk as they spoke up once more.

“Besides, idiots they may have been, and likely still are, at least they know what style is, something you seem to have forgotten my dear.” Fulgrim pouted at her lover’s words as she locked eyes with her, noting the way her lover let their gaze travel from her violet eyes to the blade that rested on the stand beside her mirror, the target of her comment being readily apparent.

“Oh? And what does that mean, my Muse?” Fulgrim spoke up, her tone much sharper and colder than she had any intention of allowing it to be, though it seemed to do not to her lover but make their lips purse into a thin frown as their eyes narrowed into a frigid glare for several moment before they sighed and spoke up.

“Look in the mirror, take a decent look at what you have in mind for tomorrow,” Fulgrim did so, her eyes closing slightly as she pictured the rich violet and cream colored dress she would wear, adorned with the sapphire and golden filigree designs she had spent so long designing, and the dark sapphire and cream colored clothing of her lover that they had both worked on for so long.

Try as she might, she could not picture what it was that was making her lover so concerned for the coming gala, at least that was until her lover once more spoke up to her as they walked off towards their closet and began to rummage through it.

“You’re picturing the clothing, the cosmetics and jewelry correct? Likely imagining how you would look with that tasteless piece of metal at your side, again a flush of unbidden irritation that made the Matriarch have to bite her lip to still her tongue, but why should you settle for a simple metal blade when you could show off something like this…Oh, and happy early anniversary my love.”

Her Muse finished their statement as they pulled out a rather lengthy container that had been kept concealed in the depths of their closet, with both hands, they pulled out what appeared to be the base of a blade, the pommel a sapphire colored gem adorned with specks of silver and violet within it, the grip adorned with cream colored leather, each strand of the binding having been carefully inscribed with designs such that when layered together upon the finished product they gave the appearance of thunderbolts striking a sapphire sea that laid above the jeweled pommel.

Above the leather grip there was the guard of the blade, granted it was a rather unconventional one, not due to it being styled to resemble a pair of great wings made out of silver and gold with violets and sapphires carefully carved to form elegant sloping rings and bands, alongside of being used as highlights for the many feathers upon the great wings.

But rather the guards was odd, for the fact that its center most portion was shaped to resemble the form of the Muse themself, the great wings erupting from their back, their form being adorned with minute carvings and etching to make it as lifelike as possible, their lips spread into a loving smile that would gaze up at the women who wielded the blade.

And as for the blade itself, which, while upon first glance appeared to be already a masterwork of platinum and silver colored metal, each inch engraved with ornate designs and flowing markings, though of a far too slender a shape for such a sized hilt, there was yet one other facet to cement its wonder in those that beheld it.

It took but the faintest caress upon a hidden mechanism for their to come a humming and crackling sound, one that soon grew in intensity to such an extent that it would be hard to think, and if that was not enough than the brilliant radiance that came forth in the shape of a near blinding light of violet and sapphire electricity that formed into a blade of thunder and lightning that enveloped the smaller metal blade, the electricity triggering hidden mechanisms forged by Petra herself at their behest which made the blade hum and vibrate at such a frequency that not could stop the blade once it was swung.

For a moment longer the Muse gazed upon the blade, their lips curling upwards into a smile as they disabled the lightning of the blade as they turned to present the weapon to Fulgrim, a low chuckle leaving their lips as they saw the Matriarch gape in slight shock at what was being presented to her.

“This is-!” Fulgrim said nothing more as she immediately devoted all of her attention to the blade being held out to her, eyes wide and hungering as she ravenously took in all of the details of the weapon she was being presented with, her heart beginning to hammer as her thoughts raced at the masterwork she was being presented with.

“You would not believe how hard it was to make that thing without you figuring it out, even with so many of us working on it.” Their words made Fulgrim look at them in silent question as they smiled before they continued.

“I had each of your sisters help me with it, Petra, Hestia, Ferrus, helped with forging it, then Petra and Ferrus made the motors and engines for the lightning while Hathor, Aurelia, and oddly enough Kassandra and Morrigan helped with the more intricate designs on the leather and carvings on it…their lovers largely just provided moral support and ideas for them.” Fulgrim’s lips had already parted into a gape of shock before her lover continued, their own lips having widened into a smile as they continued.

“The materials were located by Magna and Juno, and then they were retrieved by Freya, Alakhi, Volkana, and Corra, she was the one to provide the jewel for the pommel, while Magna and Aurelia blessed the sword with some rather powerful enchantments and wards to make sure no one but us can touch it and that is would not dull or rust.” And now her Muse’s smile reached blinding proportions as they continued yet again.

“Lastly, we had Atlanta stress test it by sparring with Freya, Morrigan, Leona, Regalia, and Cora to see if their differing styles would damage it, while the Twins helped with coming up with a way of hiding it from you, they were the ones running interference for most of the time we were making it, and when they weren't Sanguinia was, she is also the one who came up with the idea of the angel motif for the guard.” Her Muse finished, their own eyes shining with mirthful delight as they saw their lover’s silent gape as she looked over the blade she had been presented with.

With a trembling hand, the Matriarch reached out and gently plucked the blade from their hand, the instant her hand wrapped around the grip of the blade there came forth, unseen by the pair, the faintest hint of golden wisps of light that ever so softly brushed against her skin, bringing forth a sensation of calm and clarity that drove away the unseen hands groping at the Matriarchs essence.

Though neither saw this, for they were too enveloped in the moment as the Muse stared into her lover’s eyes, a low chuckle slipping past their lips as they reached out their hand and delicately wiped away the tears, smiling as Fulgrim looked up at them from where she had been inspecting the blade.

“I…I have…I think I need to sit down.” Fulgrim finished as she moved over to their shared bed, sitting down on it as she continued to look over the blade that her lover had presented to her as her mind raced with thoughts as she took in the weapon she held, her hand softly caressing the angel design on the guard for several moments before she lifted her head to look at her lover.

Her vision slightly blurry as she tried to choke out something, anything to say, only for nothing but a low whine to come out as her lover approached her, swaying their hips to the sides as they allowed for their cloak of blankets to fall and reveal their bare form.

With a smirk on their face, the Muse moved towards Fulgrim, prompting the Matriarch to set her new found sword on a nearby night stand as her Muse straddled her lap, their eyes shining with delight as they saw the Phoenician look at them with tears in her eyes and a slight quiver to her lips.

“What do you think my love? Not only does it go wonderfully with your dress, but you can also show it off to everyone else and boast about your lover and your sister's talents.” Her Muse leaned in once more, gently pulling Fulgrim down as they allowed their lips to delicately graze her ear, lightly blowing into it before they continued.

“Well, what’s your answer my love? That piece of metal that clashes with your attire, or something that shows off the talents of those who love you and compliments your attire perfectly, which one do you feel like taking now?” The Muse knew what answer they would receive, especially when they felt Fulgrim gently lay her hands on their hips.

For a moment, Fulgrim’s gaze flickered over to the Laer Blade, the pull normally tugging at her mind gone and allowing her to truly look at it, seeing the blade for the tasteless piece of sharpened metal that her lover had claimed it to be.

So her choice was already made when she allowed her gaze to flicker to the sword she had been gifted with before she returned her gaze to her lover, a silent nod giving her answer as her lover smiled in triumph as they leaned down to seize her lips with their own.

As hands began to wander, and lips hungrily devoured one another once more, the Muse allowed themself to smile as they thought of the faces of not only the poor fools that would be present at the Gala, but also of their homeworld's artisans when they saw a genuine masterpiece during their visit.

‘Oh yes,’ They thought as they felt their lover shift to be laying on her back as she pulled them atop her, hungrily pawing at their bare flesh, ‘we’ll show them what real beauty is.’ And with that last thought, they allowed themself to cease thinking as they indulged in their shared passion with their lover.

Line Break

The day of the Gala was, as with any celebration that Fulgrim and her legion were involved with, a day of semi-ordered madness and chaos across the entirety of the legion as the Astartes raced to and fro as they tried to make themselves ready for the celebration, their desire to one-up their fellow Astartes matched but by their desire to impress their mother and her lover.

It was amidst this scene of organized chaos that a particular example of lunacy took place, for the bedchambers of the Matriarch could be best likened to being caught within the embrace of a mad tempest as Fulgrim and her liver dashed to and fro to make sure they were properly prepared for the party to come, the pair having slightly overslept due to the previous day’s activities.

“Damnit, where did I put my necklace!?” The Muse called out from where they were busy searching through each of the drawers and shelves they could while Fulgrim herself was putting on her makeup, watching the scene out of the corner of her eye.

“Were you wearing it yesterday?” The Matriarch asked her lover as she finished placing her lipstick on, her gaze flickering over to where her make-up kit lay as she began to search for her eye-liner, though she paused when she noticed something out of-

“Aha!” Her darling called out from behind her as they at last spotted their platinum and sapphire necklace…atop a cabinet that was much too tall for them to reach, the sight making their left eye twitch as they tried to jump up to reach the chain, only to fail as they missed the chain by several inches.

“Could you help me get this damn thing when you’re done?” The Muse called out as they diverted their attention from their necklace and towards getting the last of their attire on, though they did pause when they realized that Fulgrim had not answered them.

The Muse lifted their head to see their lover looking over her cabinets and displays with a confused look upon her face, her brow furrowed as she seemed to be attempting to locate something for several moments before they called out once more and caused her to jolt her awake from her reverie.

“What’s wrong?” They asked of her as they began to put on the last few articles of clothing that Fulgrim had laid out for them as they awaited their lover’s reply, a low curse slipping past their lips as they messed up a knot for one of their shoes and had to redo it.

“Did you move that sword from Laer? I was going to have it sent to mother, but I can’t find it.” Fulgrim asked her liver as she glanced about in confusion, a sensation at the back of her mind telling her to search for it, to rend the room asunder to recover it, yet the feeling was fading with each passing second, diminishing in the time it took for her lover to offer her a confused look before they spoke up.

“My love, I wouldn’t have touched that damn thing if you had begged me on your hands and knees. I have standards after all.” Fulgrim rolled her eyes even as a fond smile crossed her face at her dear’s usual demeanor, the Matriarch shaking her head slightly as she quipped back to her lover.

“Standards? You? Didn’t you tell me that you would have to abandon those when we started dating my love?” Fulgrim could not stop herself from chuckling at the end of her reply as she recalled the thoroughly dumbfounded looks on the faces of those around them, well most of them as Ferrus had been too busy laughing herself into near unconsciousness as her own lover doubled over beside her.

“I did, and I stand by that I have had to drop many of them, such as my standards for getting enough sleep to awaken on time for something,” her Muse gave her a faux glare as their lips twitched upwards as they continued, “and also my standard for not waking up sore and covered in bruises and bites my dear.”

Fulgrim could not stop the laugh that slipped past her lips as she pushed aside the nagging sensation in her mind as she rose to her feet and approached her lover, smiling as she saw them narrow their eyes at her with suspicion, already planning any and all methods of avoiding her doing something that would make them any later than they would already likely be if the clamor breaking out across the ship was any indication.

Though the Muse found themself pleasantly surprised as their lover merely reached up and pulled their necklace from where it rested atop the cabinet, slowly striding towards them as the Muse reached out their hand for their necklace, only to be denied as Fulgrim held it out of their reach with a smirk on her face.

“Let me my dear,” Fulgrim said, a chuckle slipping past her lips as her lover once more narrowed their eyes at her wariness coming alight for several seconds before they offered a nod to the Matriarch, lifting up their hair so that she could clip the necklace on.

They realized their mistake the moment they saw Fulgrim’s eyes gleaming with mirth, her lips curling ever so slightly as she mouthed the words ‘Payback dear,’ to them as she leaned in and-.

“Fulgrim, don’t you-!” Their words were cut off as the Matriarch latched her lips onto their neck, targeting an area that would be concealed by their attire, provided it did not shift enough, as she began to suckle and nibble on the skin, her actions prompting a low moan and a shudder of pleasure to rack her lover’s frame as their hands, that had been trying to push her away, instead reached up to entangle themselves in her hair and pull her in-

Fulgrim pulled back, smirking as she heard a low whine slip from her lover’s lips, both at being denied further pleasure and at the Phoenician's actions, their eyes narrowing into a slightly clouded glare even as they pouted up at her.

Chuckling once more, Fulgrim placed their necklace on them before she turned to head back to her vanity and finish her own preparations, her lover’s murmurs of promises of vengeance for her unbidden attack upon their neck only serving to make her smile and chuckle, already anticipating what was to come both at the party and afterwards.

Though, she still wished she knew what became of that sword. Perhaps it had been knocked from its perch during her and her Muse’s actions last night, struck by some article of clothing or knocked down when their passions became such that they were tackling one another across the room and taking one another upon each surface they could.

Idly she shrugged to herself, she could search for it when they returned from the party, the worst case scenario being that she would have to find another gift for her mother and that she might one day find it collecting dust under a piece of furniture.

Still, as she finished putting on the last of her makeup, all while being given a gaze that promised vengeance by her Muse, she could not shake the feeling that something, some great and irrevocable change had occurred, yet for the life of her she could not figure out what it was.

‘A concern for another day,’ She thought to herself as she rose to her feet, her new sword finding its place at her side as she outstretched her arm to her lover, watching with a smirk as they yet glared at her as they took her hand and rose from the bed to walk with her.

She chuckled to herself as she saw her Muse fidgeting ever so slightly as they adjusted their clothes to try and hide the mark she had left upon them, already aware that the Matriarch would not let them cover it with concealer, her pride at showing off such a mark to others, and her lover’s own pride at it being shown off as well, preventing such an act.

“Come my dear, let’s make sure everyone else is ready.” Fulgrim said as the pair left their chambers and began to wander down to the shuttle bay of the ship, all thoughts of a missing blade soon being swept aside as they began the laborious task of ordering their children and making ready to depart for the celebration taking place on the world below them.

It was as they were waiting for the shuttles to take them down to the planet below that a thought struck Fulgrim, prompting her to turn to where her lover was working with several of their children to try and force some form of make up onto Bile’s face, the Apothecary fighting tooth and nail as they did so as she hurled curse and abuse upon them for their efforts, her lover eventually pulling back with a nod of approval as she motioned for them to let Bile go.

With a withering glare to the team before her, the Apothecary stalked off to seek asylum in the dark corners of the hanger, the Astartes parting to mingle with their sisters as they noted their Mother drawing near to her lover, the Matriarch chuckling as she saw her liver putting her makeup kit back into her purse before she looked at her.

“I knew she wasn’t going to be wearing any when she was dragged out of her room, so I came prepared.” Her Muse answered her questioning gaze, her words prompting a chuckle from the Matriarch as she met her gaze once more before she asked her the question that had been on her mind for some time.

“Actually darling, I was more curious as to what it was you offered my sisters to get their help with making this sword, nothing too precious I hope?” Fulgrim found herself surprised as her lover winced slightly at her words, their hands rising to cup their face as they let out a low groan before they let their hand fall to their side as they mumbled something under their breath.

Fulgrim blinked, already she could hear some of her daughters beginning to snicker at what they had just heard, and while she was tempted to join them, she wanted to be absolutely certain as to what it was she had just heard.

“What was that my love? I’m afraid you’ll have to speak up.” Fulgrim saw her lover narrow a glare at her for a moment before, for but a fleeting instant, a gleam came to inhabit their eyes, one that Fulgrim had come to both anticipate and dread, a gleam of mischief that typically ended with the words ‘I want to try something new,’ or ‘They wanted my opinion’.

A slight chill ran down Fulgrim’s spine as she looked at her lover, watching as the gleam faded and an exasperated look crossed their face as they spoke up, once more, their words prompting many to choke out chuckles or look at her in incredulous shock.

“Dating Advice. I had to offer those Ceramite headed fools you call family advice on dating, because apparently them and their daughters are all idiots on the subject, and by the fucking Empress was it fun,” The way she spat the word fun, as though it were the most vile thing she had ever tasted caused chuckles to begin to break out once more, Fulgrim finding herself fighting her own laughter as she looked at her lover.

“Surely it couldn’t have been that bad, right my dear?” Fulgrim asked, watching as her lover went still such that they could have been mistaken for a particularly breathtaking statue of lifelike design beyond anything else, that is if one were not to see the way their eyes shifted to lock directly with Fulgrim’s own, molten wrath blazing within them.

‘Oh dear, I think I made a mistake.’ Fulgrim had time to think before her lover’s lips parted, and a volcano of exasperated vitriol emerged, the gathered Astartes being treated to a front row seat for the cataclysmic eruption alongside of their mother as her Muse snapped.

“Not that bad? Not that fucking bad!? I had to coach Regalia on how the fucking guide book her daughters got her did not cover everything, oh and turns out no one had ever bothered to explain to her what sex is!” Fulgrim was not the only one to gape at the Muse as they continued on, their hands clenching tightly as their lips spread into a perversion of a smile.

“I had to have Aurelia help me explain what it was to her because everyone else was too busy laughing, then I had to try and get Aurelia to stop helping me before she made Regalia’s head pop from how much blood was rushing to it.” Fulgrim felt the chuckles slipping past her lips at the image that played across her mind, though she felt said laughter slip past her lips in greater quantity as the Muse continued with-

“Then I had to tell Morrigan that maybe the reason her lover is constantly emptying buckets of perfume on her is because she refuses to bathe, that ended up becoming a fucking hour long argument that only ended when Aurelia gave her that pleading look of hers and convinced her to at least try it and see what happens.” Her Muse’s jaw clenched as they took a deep breath before they resumed, seemingly unaware of the laughter and awe filling the room.

“Sanguinia, Empress bless that woman, all she needed was advice on how to approach her love and how to broach the topics of her curses to them, that was simple enough. Corva? She had the same issues, though instead of curses she wanted to know how to get more comfortable with physical contact. Hestia, another fairly simple one, she just needed advice on how to stop her love interest from running away every time they see her, preferably without traumatizing them.” The laughter grew greater still, many turning gazes of genuine respect to their Matriarchs lover as they took a deep breath, seemingly trying to calm themself before they resumed.

“Aurelia…dear fuck…”The Muse paused for several moments, a thousand mile stare gracing their face as though they were reliving a particularly traumatic experience, their lips moving silently for a few moments longer before Fulgrim;s hand on their shoulder made them look up at her.

“I think you need to spend some more time with her before she gets her lover…because I don’t think they’ll be leaving their bedroom till the next damn Golden Age starts once the Crusade is done…and bring a notebook…some of her ideas sounded very…interesting.” Fulgrim’s mouth fell into a silent gape of shock, her children joining her for several moments before the Muse seemed to try and shake themself from their stupor by focusing on another subject.

“Juno, all we really needed was to try and work out how she could approach them and how they could schedule their dates, simple enough. Hathor was pretty much the same, though we also had to figure out how to make the one she wants notice her feelings, not the worst one though it was a challenge.” Here the Muse paused to take a breath, sighing softly for a moment, before they resumed, their eye twitching slightly as they spoke up again.

“Petra really just needs to be honest with her feelings, that’s really all I could offer for advice for her…that and to remember to take off her armor when she tries to do anything with them.” Fulgrim nodded, smiling slightly at the mental image of Petra, sans her armor, trying and failing to flirt with someone, it would be an amusing spectacle to see, hopefully she would get to witness it tonight.

“Ferrus, just needed a reminder that not everyone can endure the heat of a blast furnace like she can…or endure sparks from molten metal hitting them like she can…really she just needs to remember that the one she’s interested in is a lot more fragile than her.” Fulgrim nodded once more, her smile growing softer at the thought of her closest sister finally getting with someone, she would have to send her a gift…hmmm…maybe she could find a copy of her…’educational’ book on intercourse and send it to her, Ferrus could certainly use the material in it for ‘educational purposes’ for when things reached the bedroom…or maybe…

The Muse paused, registering the mischievous glint in their lovers eyes, and while they were tempted to try and quash whatever form of torment she was dreaming up for her sister, she would try and see if she should warn Ferrus later on, for now she had to continue to feed the gossip mill of the Empress’s Daughters as they continued.

“Freya, that was a basket case. First we had to work out that no, you cannot just walk up to someone, hand them a leash and collar and say you are dating now,” Fulgrim’s hand flew to her mouth to muffle her cackles, her daughters trying and failing to follow her example as her lover continued.

“Then! Then we had to work out that no, you cannot growl at everyone that looks at them before you are even dating, nor can you leave hunting trophies outside their door as gifts, I can only hope that she did not leave some beasts head outside their door beforehand…though…given the look on her face. And don’t even get me started on her asking if it was okay for her to p-ut her scent on their clothes to mark them…I pity them so much.” The Muse sighed as they shook their head, visibly holding back on saying more on the matter as they shifted to another one of her sisters.

“Atlanta…was a surprise, all she really wanted was advice on how to plan out dates with them that don’t involve battle, and on what flowers she should give her Rose,” The incredulous looks they received was enough to make them offer a shrug in response as the Astartes and their Matriarch shared glances of shock and awe with one another.

“Leona was…not as bad as I thought, really just has to work on working up the nerve to confess and not scaring the hell out of them…or stalking them…Alakhi was pretty simple, she just wanted to know what she should do to make them feel more comfortable around her and not like they had to meet some imaginary standards.” Fulgrim nodded to herself absently, that was about what she expected.

“The Twins…yeah that is a mess of trust issues, fixation, and who knows what else they decided to keep to themselves, the big thing was getting them to admit their feelings to themselves and then try and guide them away from whatever hairbrained plan they came up with to wrangle a confession out of their target…and yes that includes tapping their Vox, assassinating potential rivals,” Fulgrim’s eyes widened as she opened her mouth again, “drugging them to kidnap them, blackmailing potential rivals, framing their target to get them put under their care…the list goes on.” The Muse at last stopped with a tired sigh, taking a moment to catch their breath before resuming.

“Magna, I’m going to be honest with you if it weren't for her daughters dragging her out of the library I think she would just keep using her warpcraft to spy on her love and not even try and confront them. Anxiety aside, I feel that she won’t really have any issues when she is finally able to come out of her shell…and stop scrying on them constantly…or stalking them with astral projection.” The Muse paused, once more taking a deep breath as they seemed to try and steel themself for what was to come, the slight shudder that wracked their frame as they announced the last name making all of those present gape in shock at them.

“Kassandra…where in the hell do I even…no…you know what, I’m not drunk enough to discuss that Warp Storm, wait till I have a few bottles in me and then try and get that out of me because that…that is something beyond me.” Fulgrim shared in the respect her daughters were directing towards her lover, especially as she saw them seem to collapse in on themself, sagging in exhaustion as they recalled exactly what they had to deal with to get her new sword.

With a smile on her face, Fulgrim walked forward and embraced her lover, chuckling as she felt them go limp and let their head fall against her body, her breasts resting atop their head as they mumbled into her abdomen.

“Your sisters…are exhausting, and not in the good way.” Fulgrim could no longer hold back her laughter at that remark, throwing back her head and laughing merrily at the way her lover sounded, her laughter stopping when she noticed the shuttles arriving as she reached down and lifted her lover up and into her arms.

“Come on my love, let’s try and bury those bothersome memories with some happier ones.” The Phoenician said as she began to stride towards the shuttles, chuckling to herself once more at the mental images her lover’s words had crafted in her mind, she could already picture the looks that would cross her sisters faces as she-

“Oh, and Fulgrim.” The thoughts of the Matriarch paused as she looked at her lover out of the corner of her eye, mischievous violet eyes watching as her lover looked up at her with a mischievous look of their own, lips curled into a smile that made the Matriarch shudder in unease..

“If they find out that I told you all that information, from you or one of the Astartes, then you will have to make do with your own hand and toys for a month.” Fulgrim went still, her eyes snapping wide open as she gaped at her lover, her daughters having gone similarly still, Eidolon nearly tripping over her own feet as Bile froze in her own tirade against some of her kin, the Apothecaries lips beginning to twitch upwards as she processed what she had just heard.

“You-!” Fulgrim was cut off as her lover lifted up a hand and began to pat her head, a coy smile on their face as they leaned in such that their breath tickled her ear as she purred to her in a tone of satin and sin-

“But, if you can keep it a secret for the whole party, then you can do whatever you want with me tonight, I still have some stress to deal with afterall. What do you say, up for the challenge?” Fulgrim snapped her gaze down to her lover, violet eyes darkening as she unconsciously licked her lips, a hunger welling up inside of her as she looked at her Muse.

“Anything?” She asked in a husky tone, heart beginning to pound as she began to plan and scheme as her Muse chuckled before they leaned in once more, their tongue lightly caressing her ear as they answered with the word that cemented their fate.

“Yes.” A low squeal slipped past their lips as Fulgrim shifted them just so that her hand was beginning to grope at them, the hunger in her eyes now an all consuming blackness as she licked her lips once more, a shudder of delight at the thoughts racing through her mind racking the Matriarch’s frame as she lifted her gaze to look over her children, a knife cut smile appearing on her face as violet eyes blazed like thunderbolts.

The gathered Astartes looked at one another, several silently vowing to work with their mother, if for no other reason than their own safety, while others, such as a silently cackling Florencia Bile, vowing to do all they could to make the coming party as exciting as they could for their Mother and their kin.

And so it was that as the shuttle wound its way down to the planet below, the Muse leaned back their head and let out a low chuckle, delighting in the merry chaos that was sure to unfurl, and at the prospect of watching Fulgrim do all she can to earn her reward.

‘This is going to be one hell of a party,’ They thought to themself as they closed their eyes and relaxed in their lover’s arms, eagerly awaiting planetfall and the beginning of a night full of merriment.

As the Shuttles wound their way down to the planet, a figure emerged as a stygian vessel arrived in silence, the figure swiftly moving aboard the vessel as it began to spirit them away from the fleet, unseen by any and all, the figure that had climbed aboard swiftly sitting their package down and placing it within a vault, the faint light of the ships interior lights alighting for but a brief moment upon a container layered in seals and wards before it was locked away.

Line Break

Silence hung heavy and loud in the halls, broken not by the footfalls of the robe clad figure that maneuvered through the darkness of the black stone halls, navigating not by physical sight but by memory and senses far keener than their ancient form would make apparent.

With impossible ease they held with one hand a case of dark metal, engraved with rune and symbol of warding magics and barriers, and in the other they carried a staff of metal adorned with a golden eagle upon its top, the flames that normally blazed to illuminate the great bird of prey having faded to not even smoldering embers.

For how long they walked none could say, for in the darkness of the depths of this most antiquated and stygian of vaults, time seemed to hold fast its breath, field with both wariness and awe of the horrors sealed behind great walls of stone and doors of ancient and terrible might, yet even where time dared not to tread, the cloaked figure did.

Unhurried they strode down the halls, the chill that hung so heavy in the air doing not to impede them as they approached their destination, a great door of stygian metal, layered in sigils of warding and restraining, flanked on either side by guards clad in sable with skulls of ivory and lone optics of baleful blue, the twin figures did not to impede the robed figure as it lifted a hand and, with an errant gesture, bid the door to open.

And open it did, great slabs of metal layered over one another parting as mechanisms unseen activated at the command of the figure that now strode forth into the room, the darkness of which hung in the air as though it were the ocean itself, fit to swallow, fit to crush and devour the one that had dared to intrude upon its sanctum.

Coldness such that frost coated the room struck at the figure, though it did not to deter them as they approached the center of the room, whereupon a great monolith of onyx metal loomed, shackles of ivory metal holding it fast to the ground as though it were a beast in need of binding and not an inert piece of metal.

Or perhaps they were there to restrain a different beast.

With practiced ease the figure lifted the package into the air, powers ancient and mighty holding it aloft as the figure lifted their hand and began to tap at the unseen keypad upon the surface of the great monolith, the sequence of numbers and letters, of symbols of languages ancient and dead, taking but a handful of moments for a hand that moved with speed that it should not have possessed.

The sequence completed, the figure stepped back as there came a silent pulse across the surface of the monolith as it silently slid open, parting such that a slot large enough for the container and that which was held within could be fitted, runes of even greater power glowed from within, these of burning gold that hummed with power mightier than even that which the ancient figure held.

The container rattled, that which was within attempting to flee from the power of that most ancient and terrible of foes, though no ground could it gain in its bid for flight, for the ancient figure seized the container with a lone hand and moved it within the space, slotting it such that the runes pressed against the container.

Faintly, a sound not unlike an agonized scream could be heard.

With deft movements the ancient figure tapped upon the keypad once more, this time to seal the great vault, and to allow the runes of power to do their long work, they would bleed the object of its power, scorching and searing and maiming that which was held within till not remained of its great might and with ease it could be unmade.

As the robed figure began to depart the room, he thought to himself how the runes had been arranged, of the intent and power held within them, of the tranquil fury that had been upon the face of his ancient friend as they had carved them, the radiance of her power such that the room around her had nearly melted under its might as it was directed into the runes.

‘I suppose the old saying is true then,’ the ancient figure thought to himself as he left the room, a rap of his staff upon the ground bidding the great doors to seal shut behind him as the figures of its guards blended back into the shadow as a wall of stone rose from the ground to further conceal the entrance to the cell.

‘No greater force there is, than a mother shielding her young.’(1) The thought in his mind, and his mission complete for a time, the ancient lord began to wind his way through the antiquated chambers.

He would be ash in the wind before he allowed his old friends children, and his nieces, to be lost to the madness that was the 4 and their twisted designs, and so it was that as he wound his way through the halls and back to the surface, the one known as the Cursed Wanderer, began to plan his next moves in the Great Game.

Fin

We hope you all enjoyed this mess of a ficlet of ours, it is our first time delving into writing in the 40k setting, and our first time writing for this marvelous AU for that matter, so please let us know just how badly we screwed up in the comments.

That said, stay safe and take care all.

#warhammer 40000 #warhammer 40k au #Female Primarch AU #PrimarchGF AU #Female Fulgrim #Gender Neutral OC #Warhammer 40000 AU #Warhammer Female Primarch AU

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magnetar1 · 2 years ago

Text

Bright Desolation

They did not see where I went on the day I left them. They howled inside their desiccated skulls as they stood proud. They waited for the stars to change hoping they’d regain the sight they lost.

I took them to be beggars in the end. War manipulated their fears and crushed their memories. They could no longer see beyond the burning fields as their spirits were feasted on by black legends and force-fed the treacle of wasted years.

Still, I moved past it like a fish slicing through the water. Slashing their minds and cutting out their hearts, suffocating them where they slept so they wouldn’t have to wake up again. I took pity on them in the end which only a fool can trust, begrudging them the sacrifice of their own peril.

Instead, extracting the essence of what they gave me: egg, bile, chance, transmissive host, aligning through fluidic means, yet never fully coalescing. Traveler or ghost over gray, lonely roads, only not so lonely to me. Enraptured by the filamental guise shuddering between grief and isolation never too far from the obliqueness of space.

I change, and go, how I must. Metamorphosis of a star is the dark art of annhilation, either considered a blessing or a curse among nature’s rabble. Whether letting in the martyrdom of an age or trailing mysteries to their scintillating edge.

Where the Black Sun radiates with disorder and reunion. I don’t remember dying, yet wander through realms of the dead. Out of the smoking abyss to one cavernous retreat under the mountains. Gold of the world dims, blinding any who stay behind. Haunted evidence in their vacant eyes as they’ve lost far more than their sight.

In a ritual of separation and departure. The likelihood of entering another domain without making it back as those who came far and have died many times due to sorcery, plague or war can attest. Chameleons in the darkness. Black Sun portends to them rival worlds and other vistas of infinitude.

***

I float away until I’m nowhere. Like the Taar I once smoked in reeking dens I am orbiting down.

Weightless companion to my heavy burden as the universe reminds me: that somewhere, out there, lies its center and wherever I go I’ll be reminded of you.

Returning, instead, to a budding, chaotic world, where sands have not yet set and winter never comes. Cascading fields of green untrampled by human feet. Unsullied tide of spring-water seen clear through to the Serpent’s Eye.

Looking back.

I feel its heart in mine, cold at the bottom of a lake. A vision within a vision ensconced by phantom sediment. Proof of my existence. Ardor in the face of blight and confusion.

However, surviving aeons, its footprint remains. World swims around its form with radiant devotion. Substanceless depths come up for air as I watch myself drown. No matter, I was born here, where flesh meets sky.

I am just a man, I realize, crawling toward the Idol. I am my own frozen shadow under a dead moon.

The Idol is silent, too, and has been for some time. And even while the war is long over we’re afraid to go outside. Still, if I am a traveler – a true, wayfaring outlander cordially self-exiled – I’ll need to move past this, too. If only to hear that voice again, guttural, announcing itself with brute alienage.

***

I can give you that much at least: that I’ve lived like some pagan savage. I’ve fornicated with witches and bled for necromancers before locking myself away.

Or is it one of the many nightmares I’m only now awakening from?

Eyes, once tearful, brimming with devotion, now arid as the Desert of Glass, penetrating with sharp onism, clarity, no longer afraid to let go. Supine before splintering futures as a necromancer, clad in hoary robes, scried my heart for telling palpitations. While ages dwindled ahead to points of corrugating light, sun spilling its seed above the constricting meridian with no more room to breathe.

A demon, I was, spared to live truly, irrevocably, dead. And yet, alive, fuming with boreal consciousness while experiencing the tension of the world itself as a lashing scourge of fire and judgment . . .

Twisting, writhing through charnel streets as the blackness of my thoughts reveled in the clamor of doom. Resurrected to witness the night of nights when you are finally put out of your misery as, under these collapsed ruins and toppled halls, nothing remains.

Like the distance I feel which fills you with dread by the end. Another relic for the march across dead seas. Banners held high in defiance of madness to come: that you’ll go nowhere in the end, rotting on your throne.

Voice loud and clear, even over the clamor of war. Churlish words of a demon’s curse enraptured by the destruction.

***

I became lost on the solitary road. Deeper into the mountains. I’d been cold before, but never like this. Sky like an ashen cowl rendering me invisible against the expanse of glaring, white drifts.

I am reminded of another life.

People of the Black Sun.

Gaunt denizens, flesh worn only to still the waters of the thing inside, warming their bones inside a spectral furnace as they come to terms with the ghost inside. Situating musculature over stone as they are transformed into worms and ghouls who haunt, yet are never haunted, in void-like realms, considered revenant when spied from afar.

All that mattered was they were waiting for me.

What do you know, or care to know, as you fade from view? As this feeling remains, which is no feeling at all? . . .

World itself decays, gathering flies of its own. Festering reunions in the depths of holocaustal memories. Behind a veil of indifference, rising and falling of flame, blatant futures spew from exhausted oracles. Pineal eye slams shut to the Fall and deprecation of valor.

It’s okay, a Voice assured me, to end it like this. It was their voice, our voice, echoing through the illimitable chamber where we congregated: where the demonic wailing of the world could no longer be heard.

#CCParker

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cross-armageddon · 1 year ago

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guess who

back with the pjo x prsk

i only managed to figure out An and Haruka + beginnings of Tsukasa and Ena, so uhhh

STALLING TIME, NO VBS TODAY

Prima Vista (1/2)

I was thinking which ones I should start with to be fair. I have powers for all of Prima, but I didn't knoe whether to split them for camps, or do mixed pairs or whether to start with Hayato/Kaii or Ranmaru/Ikuo, but I decided for Hayato and Kaii in the end, since you've seen them before in the pjo au posts

Hayato

He was the last one to be admitted to the camp, out of everyone (including the normal characters), but he's known there was "something wrong" with him already. Only after learning about demigods, he realized all those things he's seen over the years are simply because of his godparent, which was obvious to him that it was Apollo. He has no control over his powers and that gives him trouble most of the time.

His side power is that art thing - what's that mean is basically that he can pick up any art form and have it easy. Of course he won't be perfect in anything, unless he practices, but he will have an easier time learning. If you had read the Prima stories earlier, you know that Hayato knows how to play multiple instruments, violin being his most beloved.

His main power is connected to his dreams and that is the ability to see into the future in dreams. Now, it's actually kind of natural for demigods to sometimes have visions inside dreams, but the issue with Hayato is that he sees them every night and they show how the next day will play out. It won't show anything directly, instead it will look like a scene from an anime or a game (personally imagining it like Genshin gameplay and cutscenes). Nothing is fully clear in those dreams - he can't see how he looks like, because a mirror never appears. The people inside the dream only share some features with the real people in his life. The actions are very vivid and at times blurry or simply too fast. It's never clear, so Hayato has to decipher what could possibly happen, but since fate is unpredictable, his judgments end up being partially or completely wrong.

He avoids everything to do with the future-seeing powers - tries not to get claimed by Apollo, wants to escape the fate that he sees and at times he tries going days without sleeping (which actually ends up being worse, because then he sees prophetic hallucinations instead of dreams. He will still not sleep.)

(i swear he is so fun to draw, his hair is so fucking satisfying to draw, so simple yet fun)

Oh yeah. He has never told anyone he knows his godparent. Toya is blissfully unaware that suddenly his new classmate is also his half-brother.

Hayato also hid himself away from the camp when he saw a claim sign in his dream, fearing it would be him. It was Kaii's Neptunus claim and Kaii was pretty bummed out that Hayato was nowhere to be seen at that time. Once Hayato heard though, he was very relieved (that it wasn't him) and tried to make it up to him.

Speaking of Kaii

I don't know which Poseidon/Neptunus quirks I vould give him to not make him too OP. As one of the big three, he probably should have something more, but on the other hand - manipulating the water tension is already OP in itself. It all actually comes down to how he uses it and how creative he gets to be with the ideas. At first he finds this unnecessary, since he wasn't able to control it freely, but once he actually started training, he started thinking differently. Here are a few ideas I have for how he could be using his powers:

The most useful one is definitely the ones relating to mobility. He definitely had a LOT of troubles trying to walk on water, because it was as slippery as ice, due to the surface not having traction. In the end he came up with the idea to slide/skate on it like ice and yep, that sure fixed it.

The "walking on rain" idea came from Jojo's Bizarre Adventure, specifically Steel Ball Run. The Stand Catch The Rainbow had the stand user standing on raindrops. I am pretty confident that with some natural water bending and Kaii's tension manipulation, he could freely run on raindrops, but it would most likely be difficult and require TONS of training.

If we're talking about other inspirations for the powers, I like to think that water not breaking tension on him is so funny... He's like a duck if he wants to stay dry... 🦆

As for the not letting enemies outside of the depths, it was inspired by that one twitter comment being like "What if the water just doesn't let you out one day"

I mean, fuck, what IF it doesn't let you out

It would definitely be brutal coming from Kaii, since he can just not let the water break tension around him like if he was in a bubble, but... Well, he is capable of drowning something in self defense. He's pretty desensitized to most physical things and if it's against a monster, he would do it no questions asked. If it was against another (enemy) demigod and he'd let them stay down there for a bit too long... Yeah, he'd have to process this with himself. You can expect him using the water trap very sparringly, last resort even.

If you have any MORE ideas for how he can use these powers... You can share ofc 👀

(bringing this gem back)

Also, one more relating to Ichika and Kaii - in the Prima canon I did make them cousins. Kaii's mom is one of Ichika's parents older sister. I have no clue which one, so... If someone claims a godparent for her, they would still work out as cousins.

I guess even if they ended up not being related in the end, their relationship would still stay as cousins, just... different blood.

As an additional fun fact, in my Prima add-in, Ichika and Kaii entered the camp together. Both of them found it a bit crazy that the other cousin also had the same issues with dyslexia and the "demigod specific" type of neurodivergency and it was incredibly awkward. They have each other's backs tho.

As a bonus: The Big Three of each camp

Getting sneak peaks for others early woa woa woa

although the Nene/Saki designs might change according to their powers when I do in fact figure them out

you cant tell me Tsukasa wouldnt wear the wreath all the time btw, he got it fair and square and he WILL wear it ‼️‼️

#project sekai #prsk fa #prsk oc #hayato edogawa #pjo au #prsk x pjo #kaii kotebiki #toya aoyagi #tsukasa tenma #saki tenma #nene kusanagi #kanade yoisaki #ikuo heiru #im sorry london was hell so to cope i was thinking blorbo thoughts #but the blorbo thoughts were prima only #if i need to stall again i WILL use ranmaru and ikuo post

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byneddiedingo · 2 years ago

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Liam Neeson in Schindler's List (Steven Spielberg, 1993)

Cast: Liam Neeson, Ben Kingsley, Ralph Fiennes, Caroline Goodall, Jonathan Sagall, Embeth Davidtz. Screenplay: Steven Zaillian, based on a book by��Thomas Keneally. Cinematography: Janusz Kaminski. Production design: Allan Starski. Film editing: Michael Kahn. Music: John Williams.

Amid the nearly universal acclaim for Schindler's List, two major criticisms are often heard. One is that Spielberg tends toward the sentimental, especially at the end of the film: He lets Schindler's remorse at having not been able to save more Jews from the Holocaust go on too long, and the appearance of the surviving Schindlerjuden with the actors who played them is an unnecessary extension of the film's already clear moral statement, blurring the distinction between documentary and fictionalized narrative. The other objection is that the appearance of the girl in the red coat during the liquidation of the Kraków ghetto is a too-showy use of film technique in what should be a gripping, realistic scene. The former objection is a highly subjective one: For many, the film needs something to soften the harshness of the story's catharsis. For others, the answer is simply, "Let Spielberg be Spielberg," a gifted but traditional storyteller whose vision of the material he chooses is invariably personal. It's the second objection that gets to the heart of what film criticism is all about. I think David Thomson, in his brief essay on Schindler's List in Have You Seen ... ?, puts the objection most provocatively when he observes, "With that one arty nudge Spielberg assigned his sense of his own past to the collected memories of all the films he had seen. All of a sudden, the drab Krakow vista became a set, with assistant directors urging the extras into line.... It was an organization of art and craft designed to re-create a terrible reality done nearly to perfection. But in that one small tarting up ..., there lay exposed the comprehensive vulgarity of the venture." I can't be as harsh as Thomson, for one thing because when I saw the film in the theater shortly after its release in 1993, I didn't notice the red coat -- the one note of color in the middle of the black-and-white film -- because I am mildly red-green colorblind. (It's difficult to explain to the non-colorblind, but those of us with the color deficiency usually see the color in question, but it's not quite the same color that the normally sighted see.) I did, however, notice the little girl: The framing by Spielberg and cinematographer Janusz Kaminski puts her in the center of the action and makes her search for a hiding place evident even in a long shot. What I did miss that time was the reappearance of the girl's body in a stack of corpses later in the film, something that would be evident to anyone who had earlier seen the red of the coat. Later, when I saw the film on video, after having read about the controversy over the red highlight, I was able to perceive the color -- not so intense for me as perhaps for you, but once brought to my attention inescapable -- and to be shocked by its reappearance in the later scene. And when I watched the film again I realized the function of the "arty nudge": When we first see the girl in the red coat, we see her from the point of view of Schindler (Liam Neeson) himself, on a hillside above the ghetto. And when we see her body, we are seeing it again from the point of view of Schindler, visiting the cremation site where Amon Goeth (Ralph Fiennes) has been ordered to burn the bodies of those killed in the liquidation of the ghetto. It is a subtle but effective move because it coincides with (even perhaps precipitates) Schindler's decision to try to save as many of his Jewish workers as he can. Is it "arty" or "tarting up" or "vulgar"? Perhaps it is, but it's also effective filmmaking. And only the fact that the Holocaust remains so large and sacrosanct an event in the moral history of the West raises the question of whether "effective filmmaking" is inappropriate to such a subject.

#Schindler's List #Steven Spielberg #Liam Neeson

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lsevents0 · 9 months ago

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"A Cyprus Affair: Exchanging Vows in the Land of Legends"

Cyprus, the mythical birthplace of Aphrodite, the goddess of love and beauty, serves as a captivating backdrop for couples embarking on the journey of marriage. With its rich history, stunning landscapes, and vibrant culture, Cyprus offers a truly enchanting setting for exchanging vows and beginning a new chapter of love.

At the heart of a wedding in Cyprus lies the island's rich tapestry of history and legend. From ancient ruins to medieval castles, Cyprus is dotted with landmarks that tell the story of its storied past. Imagine saying "I do" amidst the crumbling walls of a Byzantine monastery or beneath the arches of a Venetian fortress overlooking the shimmering Mediterranean Sea. It's a scene straight out of a fairy tale, where every moment is infused with the timeless allure of romance and adventure.

But it's not just the historic landmarks that make Cyprus the perfect destination for a wedding; it's the island's breathtaking natural beauty that truly sets it apart. From golden beaches and rugged cliffs to lush forests and rolling exquisite wedding vineyards, Cyprus offers a diverse array of landscapes to suit every couple's vision for their dream wedding. Whether you're drawn to the tranquil shores of Paphos or the dramatic vistas of the Troodos Mountains, Cyprus provides the perfect backdrop for a celebration that is as unique as your love story.

Of course, no wedding in Cyprus would be complete without indulging in the island's world-renowned cuisine. From succulent grilled meats and fresh seafood to flavorful mezes and decadent desserts, Cypriot cuisine is a feast for the senses that reflects the island's rich culinary heritage. Couples can work with talented chefs to create a custom menu that showcases the best of Cyprus's gastronomic delights, ensuring a dining experience that is as memorable as it is delicious.

But perhaps the most magical aspect of getting married in Cyprus is the opportunity to infuse your celebration with the island's rich traditions and customs. Whether it's incorporating symbolic rituals into your ceremony or embracing local customs during your reception, Cyprus offers countless opportunities to add a touch of authenticity and romance to your special day. From tossing rice for good luck to dancing the traditional Cypriot sousta, every moment is an opportunity to create cherished memories that will last a lifetime.

But perhaps the most enchanting aspect of getting married in Cyprus is the sense of adventure and discovery that comes with it. From exploring hidden coves and secluded beaches to wandering through picturesque villages and ancient ruins, Cyprus offers endless opportunities for romance and exploration. Whether you're sailing along the coast on a traditional wooden boat or stargazing beneath the clear Mediterranean sky, every moment is an opportunity to create lifelong memories with your loved one.

In the end, a wedding in Cyprus is more than just a celebration of love; it's a magical journey into the heart of one of the most enchanting islands in the Mediterranean. Whether you're exchanging vows amidst ancient ruins, on a sandy beach, or in a historic castle, Cyprus offers the perfect backdrop for a wedding that is as unforgettable as it is romantic. So why settle for anything less than an affair to remember in the land of legends and love?

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wirewitchviolet · 2 years ago

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The Entire Plot of Final Fantasy 14, with all the expansions, and some serious analysis of how good it actually is. (Part 9 - Endwalker)

Last time, we had a lot of fun in a raid chain where our adopted daughter had some nice dates with her forgetful new girlfriend and helped us fight her sleaker, sometimes hornier reimaginings of old boss fights. Oh and we also spent a ton of time setting things up for this expansion, just clearing the traditional problems of political infighting, racism, and a seemingly endless cycle of responding to violence with religious zealotry and kidnappings. And this annoying turbo-dweeb Fandaniel doing poorly explained overpowered derivative crap.

Now before I get started, I feel I should just lay it out there a super strong theme of this whole expansion is suicidal thoughts, and I’m not planning to really dwell on it, but personally I found there’s a lot of stuff in here where just quickly and sort of lightly bringing up a particular flavor thereof got me into some real bad memories, so be ready for even briefer mentions I guess. The other two major thematic elements we have going on here are worshipful love letters from the whole staff to takeout food, and what has to be an intentional pattern of setting up exciting tension and then just completely defusing it. Plus the pacing’s kinda shot from trying to squeeze two expansions worth of plot into one. If only there were an in-game vista that summed this up...

Let’s see if I can get all this into a halfway reasonable word count. First order of business, we’re headed to Nerd Town, AKA Old Sharlayan, in hopes of working out why a bunch of eggheads aren’t willing to help the guy publicly announcing his plan to kill everyone in the world, or barring that, at least get access to their pretty impressive library. Nerd Town kinda sucks. Super bureaucratic. First thing when you show up you have to get processed and get your green card. Plan is everyone’s an assistant working for Krile who’s still very much a member of a respected research group, they aren’t terribly amused by the ridiculous things you can state when they ask for your name and occupation. Also while things look very Mediterranean it is firmly and repeatedly established that this place has just the worst, blandest food in the world. Oh and on the boat ride over you get a vision of a human-shaped Hydaelyn showing up to confirm that yeah, she and Zodiark are just summoned god like all the others, nothing special, and also she’s been weakening as more and more shard-worlds get reabsorbed via apocalypses and strengthening Zodiark... which doesn’t especially make sense since the whole reason she exists was to punch him hard enough to break things up in the first place. Maybe she got the drop or something.

Anyway, you get stonewalled by stubborn nerds like immediately, and have two leads to follow up on, so you split up and get a choice which to do first. Thancred Urianger and Estinein are going to test an experimental teleporter that doesn’t require you to personally unlock the destination crystal first to get to Thavnair, with its capital Radz-at-Han, which is just India, straight up. Everyone else is going to stick around here and try to sneak into Labrynthos, a whole underground archive/nature preserve/site for top secret experiments by researchers who aren’t beholden to the normal high council of nerds. This mostly involves helping a bunny boy carry crates and a brief foray with Y’shtola testing out the toad spell on you and the twins. You don’t really make a ton of progress. Krile gets kinda spacey, ends up briefly possessed by Hydaelyn to tell you this one mood ring flower they have growing down there is gonna be the key to everything and you should keep one on you, and then you’re all arrested by the science police for snooping around a high security research black site and put on trial. Mostly your party uses the trial to call these dumb jerk nerds out for being dumb jerk nerds, point out you totally are just legitimately working on your own research project, and G’raha points out some historical records marking when they shifted from just being a bunch of nerds learning cool stuff to improve society to a bunch of nerds totally restructuring their society to be isolationist weirdos archiving all the world’s knowledge in their creepy underground bunker.

It’s pretty clear that an archaeological team some years back found something. Like say a god who brainwashed everyone into fanatics or something, and they end up admitting to having this all-important “great work” where everyone has to submit to partial memory wiping and magical compulsion not to speak about it to preserve the important secret, and we are just absolutely setting things up where the nerd high council and who or whatever they’re serving as the real villains of this expansion. But like I said we are all about setting up big things and completely deflating them. Eventually it’ll turn out the thing they’re working on is actually totally benign, nobody’s evil, and they’re just a bunch of arbitrarily obstructionist bureaucrats who suck but are on your side. One member of their high council is enough of a reasonable person to have your back though so you don’t get expelled or anything. You’re still not allowed in the top secret lab though so it’s all kind of a wash.

So, experimental teleport to India because I guess they got sick of having so many expansion locations you reach by hopping a boat from Limsa or just taking an airship or something. Everyone’s super dizzy and nautious from the trip and staggering around, and has the terrible realization that Estinein is wandering around on his own in a big outdoor market desperate for tourist money. You’ve gotta get everyone a nice lassi to settle their stomach and stop that idiot before he blows all his money on kitschy knickknacks! Before you catch up he does manage to blow a couple thousand on a hair band to give himself a nice ponytail. I still don’t like how he looks without his helmet though.

The local population is all au ra and big elephant people.The elephant people have big Tribe Quest vibes, and you do eventually help some out in this sort of ridiculous setup where a bunch of delinquent elephant people using hippo-pulled chariots to drag race get into hot water for being a public menace, and turn over a new leaf opening a delivery service. Mostly it’s delivering takeout, but there’s also quests where you go around throwing Gulal at people, one where you are clearly conducting a drug deal (the second time this comes up at that, Heavensward has you helping cool bug pals harvest marijuana and sell joints to the other locals), and there’s one really unfortunate one where you’re asked to put on a ridiculous mascot elephant head and shout at some random person that you’re his god because people are sick of him praying constantly. All of this is actually post-Endwalker though, because we just arbitrarily gate all the tribe quests back there this expansion. What we’re actually here for now is helping some other elephant people who are actually doing very serious government-approved reseach on these big evil towers. Presumably since the first “tribe” unlocked are full citizens of a friendly nation, when these first went live they quietly went through the whole UI replacing “Beast Tribe” with just “Tribe.” Interesting that this didn’t happen earlier with the dwarves getting drunk and building tanks or something.

Anyway, their leader Nidhana, who’s just a real nice friendly nerd hanging out any time you’re in the area, has been working on these special “warding scales” that should in theory make anyone carrying one immune to godly mind alteration, not only letting random NPC military forces approach these towers safely, but also let the other Scions or any other noteworthy friends canonically tag along for future boss fights and so on. And they do in fact work perfectly. But oh no! There’s this weird creepy little kid showing up to deliver a fresh load of the secret ingredient they need. A huge pile of scales clearly ripped away from the belly of a dragon! Estinein, who’s come a long way on this sort of thing, is way sympathetic to dragons now (probably helps that he straight up turned into one for a bit) and confronts him, but again, we aren’t paying tension off. The Satrap who rules the country and his entire family line before them have just always had this big cool dragon friend Vrtra and he’s happy to help with stuff like this. Anyway, Nidhana decides to test one of these scales personally and heads off to the local tower, which people are locally calling the Tower of Zot, and while it does work, the second the door opens she gets hauled inside with huge chains, her scale gets lost, and she’s stuck in one of those torture walls.

We also get some attempt to retroactively make Fandaniel a character by establishing that before he was made into, let’s be honest, a fake Ascian, he was Amon, yeah like the optional FF3 boss who’s also in this, who we’re retconning into a clone of this guy, a horribly evil Allagan mad scientist who’s personally responsible for any sort of humanoid monsters walking around. Minotaurs, snake gals, nerdy bird people, all him just messing around. Also big into cloning. Hence everyone in the Crystal Tower raid. I don’t care, he’s still just the absolute worst and shallowest character.

You head off to give the Satrap a good news bad news report, and not long into the conversation Estinein gets annoyed and demands we pull back the big Wizard of Oz curtain and just directly talk to the secret ruler of the nation. Oh no! The Satrap and his whole family line are just political puppets and this country has actually been run by Vrtra the huge dragon and heretofore unmentioned additional child of Midgardsormr all along! Which... is fine actually. With the notable exception of Nidhogg every named dragon, especially the elder wyrm siblings here, has just been the absolute chillest nicest most understanding person, and Vrtra is no exception.Super nice even! And the creepy kid is just one of Vrtra’s eyes stuck into a totally indistinguishable from a normal au ra child android the local alchemists whipped up. Seems like the fact they can do that should be more of a big deal but it just never comes up elsewhere. Anyway you still need to keep this a secret from the general populace, because if they found out this cool friendly dragon who’s been known to be a trusted ally to the whole nation since it was first founded is actually the ruler, uh... everyone would be totally fine with that actually. I’m getting a little out of order but the next time you’re in the area the fake Satrap dies and Vrtra has to personally step up and for real not one single person has a problem with this, and really why should they? There’s a similar bit incidentally late in the last expansion where G’raha finally goes public with how the fabled Warrior of Darkness restoring the night sky is actually the protagonist, and this confused crowd of onlookers is just like, “yeah, obviously? This mysterious old friend of yours from where you’re originally from shows up, you’re ecstatic, and every time they take a trip somewhere we hear about the local Lightwarden being killed and the sky being fixed. This isn’t hard to piece together.”

So OK, big Tower of Zot rescue time. We just need to make a quick hop back to Nerd Town to merge these split progression options and catch everyone up. We’ve had too much lavish fan service for 5 and 6 so far, so now it’s really FF4′s turn to get some love. Inside the Tower of Zot we fight the three Magus Sisters, as the local gods being summoned by torturing elephant people in the walls. Who’d you expect them to worship in India, Shiva? Rama? No no no those were a historical white lady and a big beardo worshipped by plant-faeries. Clearly in India they worship that boss trio with the delta attack. Keep it straight. We even have Dr. Lugae and Barnabus for a sub-boss on the way! Oh and there’s a bit teased at the end about a severed hand in the core of the tower that feels like we’re setting up some sort of Golbez thing, but no.

What it actually is is that they kinda used the emperor’s corpse as a summoning base for the whole get people to worship Garlemald itself (have I actually ever mentioned that’s the official name of the Empire? I feel like I just keep saying “the Empire” since it’s just easier). It also makes for a convenient weakpoint for Estinien to jump up and stab, causing the whole tower to poof. Fortunately G’raha’s around and he knows float. Also fortunately Alisae’s around and she whips her hog out to start deprogramming tortured nerds, starting with Nidhana who notices the mood ring flower and talks about this obscure scientific study where not literally everything in the world is just aether related technobabble. There’s a secondary natural force/subatomic thing she calls Akasha and everyone else calls Dynamis later (and I think came up in the Sri Lakshmi fight as orbs of “vril” you need to grab before the big dance number). It’s basically impossible to measure so it’s an obscure thing, but yeah, mood ring flower. Anyway everyone heads back to Nerd Town as those scale talismans get distributed to your allies, which again at this point basically means like... 80% of the world give or take. And then you get woken up in the middle of the night because your friends are all sick of terrible Sharlayan food and decided to surprise you with takeout. Look at this cutscene. Watch G’raha make sweet passionate love to this enormous cheeseburger.

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The next order of business involves taking an airship and heading into the heart of the empire. Not because we’re back to the invasion though. At this point the empire is just straight up dead. All it really took was you proving they weren’t invincible in Stormblood and the extra unrest of the emperor himself being killed by his back from the dead deeply messed up son, and they just completely self-destructed on their own. This might actually be my favorite plot point in the entirety of FF14. They have this empire very clearly modeled after the nazis, and basically as soon as they lose their morale and momentum in a big way, they immediately collapse into infighting and tear themselves to pieces. As always happens in the real world. I’m less keen on how this, like so many other things, has nazi scientists actually making ridiculous cool stuff though. In reality nazi scientists have never actually existed, just a bunch of absolute suckers so hopped up on their stupid BS that they ask other people to do wacky comic book science for them and convince themselves the results are amazing. Here though, yeah, we get a ruined imperial capital crawling with death robots, demons called forth from hell, and freaky mutant monsters just crawling through the streets while a few desperate stragglers are huddled around space heaters starving to death by the time you show up, on what is explicitly a pure good will mission to help struggling refugees of their terrible civil war.

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It’s really visually striking, but kind of weird that the Imperial capital is (or really was) just straight up a major 20th century city with all the implied infrastructure. It’s not as shocking as the whole Evangelion thing from the dumbest side quest, but again, people use maps that are half cloud-cover and build stone fortresses guarded by archers all around here. There’s a bit of fighting against what’s left of their military forces when you show up, but you come in with a big huge international coalition that includes Sadu and I guess other people but for real Sadu has the rocks fall everyone dies spell so on the rare occasion you’re teamed up with her for a big plot fight she’s a win button you just stall to help. Resistance crushed, you head out with the twins to try and find some survivors to give supplies and good will to. After a while you find one group, they’re super paranoid and terrified, threaten you, and when your back is turned one of them just grabs her sick little sister and books it into a snowfield, because she’s so hopped up on imperial propaganda about you being dangerous savages they’d rather take their chances running into a snow storm with no supplies, and they absolutely freeze to death before you find them again.

The other major pocket of survivors you find are under the watch of what’s left of one of two surviving military units, holed up in a subway tunnel. You really try your best to just give them the supplies they need to live, but they insist on taking you hostage, putting shock collars on the twins, and forcing you to run around the ruined city to scrape up what little fantasy gasoline (ceruleum) you can syphon out of dead robots and the heater in a no longer functioning muck filled park fountain, and then their commander still kinda just decides the best plan is to attack your refugee aid party and seize everything, since reinforcements are totally coming from the only other surviving legion as soon as they get their radios working, honest. Speaking of, rather than embracing traditional linkpearl technology, the empire has straight up AM radios, and in what really is one of the sloppiest handwaves I’ve seen, turns out the reason there’s any survivors at all is that they were all clustered around their radios listening to news reports and the crackly vocal version of the Imperial theme currently playing on a loop. Anyway you’re about to go “OK screw humoring these idiots” and deal with that when you suddenly black out and we get one of these scenes where I really have to show before I tell so you know I’m not just writing weird slash fiction here.

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We hereby have to wave the right to make any future “at least buy a girl dinner first” jokes regarding Zenos’ whole kill-bang-die confusion. But yeah, this is the point in the plot of FF14 where the wormy little terrible new villain sucks your soul out of your body and sticks it in the body of some random imperial goon, so that you can have a nice dinner date with Zenos, and then he puts on your body, complete with whatever ridiculous gear you have on to go cause trouble and lure you into another date-fight. When I actually did this, tallest most musclebound possible orc gal in this outfit here, which made the whole thing extra kinky on his end.

Of course first you have to get to him in what’s actually kind of one of the most interesting set pieces gameplay wise. You’re still in this borrowed body, which is pretty low level, a fixed class, and has no natural regeneration of any kind, not access to your inventory, and you are just plopped kind of dead center in the middle of these horrible ruins and half to stealth/fight/scrounge your way out with no clear goal markers and a time limit. It’s actually fairly challenging and by the end you’re caught in an explosion so you’re literally crawling home to warn your friends that hey, that’s not you, it’s an undead murderous kinkster stealing your body for his elavorate sex fantasy, but you recover enough to tackle him at the last moment and then also the timer on all this and you’re restored.

So, I am just really conflicted. I maintain that bringing Zenos back from the dead was an absolutely terrible idea. He worked really well as a villain whose motivations take a bit to come into focus and eventually kinda make your skin crawl, the whole thing caps off with a truly excellent death scene that robs you of a nice celebratory vibe for your big victory, the resurrection is some really sloppy writing, especially given how the whole point is he was officially done with life, and they pretty clearly don’t know what to do with him while he’s back. He is literally just sitting there in the background bored out of his mind and actively ignoring the annoying main villain we actually have and his efforts to get him in on the evil scheming. AND YET, every interaction you have with him in this expansion is just such an entertaining scene and gives another fun glimpse into his really... unique frame of mind.

Anyway, that big attack fails, and the leader behind it finally gets word on the radio from his buddy’s unit that... they’ve actually surrendered and his like dozen surviving soldiers are kind of all that’s left of the big evil empire. Hearing this, he decides to go ahead and become the one good nazi we have in this whole thing. Yes that is a euphemism. Yes it does involve him putting down the mic on his radio, picking up a gun, and leaving a nice stain on the imperial flag he has in his little subway car makeshift office. I’m not going to post a screenshot, but seriously, 10/10, no notes. The whole Garlemald chapter of this expansion is great. Love seeing nazis literally being too stupid and racist to live. What little population is left then finally accepts defeat and lets you provide them with the free food, water, heat, and emergency shelter they need to survive. It’s finally time to head into that big menacing Imperial monster palace, AKA the Towel of Babel, find the bit of it that qualifies as a god, and kill it. Specifically what’s left of the old Emperor in the form of a rare FF10 tribute.

Then Fandaniel just kinda grabs Zenos gives a pathetic little speech and uses a big teleporter to flee to the moon. Which is... a bit abrupt but you follow. And uh... the moon sucks, actually? Like we have all this buildup and foreshadowing like it’s going to be this big enemy base and we’re going to do the whole Lunar Subterrane thing but no. Grey dust, annoying to navigate map, clear signs of cut content. You meet a palette swap of Emet-Selch’s recreated pre-fall Ascian ghosts who is... not some sort of phantom but a minion of Hydaelyn’s here to act as prison warden for what’s left of Zodiark, trapped inside the moon like it’s a giant prison (much like the other moon was for Bahamut). There’s this whole business with a ring of gargantuan swords scattered around to act as seals, one of which Fandaniel just destroyed because the whole bit with the towers was powering up a big death star laser to smash these, and you have to go around and pacify the ghosts of sacrifices made to summon Zodiark back in the day to power up the rest, with this helpful golden furred elegant moon dog ferrying you around as needed. Parthway through this though the whole thing gets cut short via Fandaniel’s BS sloppy writing powers, all the remaining towers get smashed, Zodiark is revived, do not pass go, go directly to big epic boss battle against basically Satan, and Fandaniel himself, believing everyone is now going to die, jumps into the big sort of chasm down to the center of the moon unleashing horrible magic energies to kill himself.That’s the end of that. Thank goodness villains always stay dead in this, right?

Anyway you kill Zodiark. Not even all that hard of a boss. But uh... oh right, you kind of weren’t supposed to do that, were you. He was kinda load-bearing. Summoned to avert an apocalypse and all. Which turns out was an ongoing thing not a one-time deal. As your friends catch up, you’re getting informed that The Final Days are now resuming, big ominous meteor showers, death of everyone in the world shortly. And as later exposition confirms, not just this version of this world. All those splintered off versions like the one we JUST saved from an apocalypse last expansion are doomed too. All because you, the main character here, have this legitimate self control issue where you just can’t not kill any god you see on the spot. But the chill moon dog, Argos, then leads you to a giant door to this massive high tech underground city with uh...

They’re called lopporits. They’re based on Namingway from FF4. The look like the sort of little figurines your great grandmother might collect, and they are here because the entire moon doubles as an emergency escape system to load the whole population of the world onto in the event that some idiot comes along, kills Zodiark, and dooms everyone. They’re also so distractingly adorable your whole party just kinda goes slack-jawed, forgets everything they were doing, and the plot just stops dead in its tracks while you spend kind of a weirdly long time just humoring them and trying to give positive feedback to all the amenities they start showing off. They’ve got all your food needs covered with, and this is the official quest item name, obscenely long carrots, described in detail as being particularly girthy. They’ve build everything to perfect human scale... based on an assumption that the average person is still like 30 feet tall like they were back in Ascian times, similarly all just assuming your whole party is a bunch of unsupervised children sent up in the first wave of evacuations. They have to improvise on clothing when it turns out universal dumb black robes are out of fashion, and have some really interesting ideas.

Once again we tease the idea that they actually have super sinister motives and are trying to trap you here with constant distractions, but then no, turns out they’re just really horrified because they’re pretty good at reading people and can clearly see that none of you are actually impressed with any of their stuff. Except Urianger. Urianger loves cute little weirdos and dressing eccentrically. This leads to a big speech to cheer them up, talking about how their self-chosen names all convey their strength of character. Like Mappingway, wanting to chart out all the unexplored secrets of the world, and Livingway just wanting to keep life going for everyone. And then turns out one is named Puddingway, but, you know, everyone likes pudding? And I guess I have to link the comic don’t I.

Anyway, checking back in on things on things down on the planet, which only NOW are we formally establishing is called Aetherys, ending years of confusion where people thought the whole world was either called Hydaelyn or Eorzea. Side note a checked and “Eorzea” is officially the term for the westernmost continent, Aldenard, if and only if you are also counting in the nearby islands. But yeah things are going bad. Especially over in Thavnair, AKA India, where the sky is stock on apocalyptic red with constant meteor showers, and seemingly at random people are turning into rad palette swaps of the freakiest looking monsters we already had models lying around for, which we’re arbitrarily calling blasphemies. There’s reports of this happening in other places too, and a lot of people seem to turn into these things just from the pure terror of seeing them. Y’shtola’s weird vision deal also reveals that rather than similar stuff where someone’s soul/aether gets tainted with some element or other, here it’s just literally rotting and crumbling away to nothing so when these monsters die and leave a sickly black splash on the floor, that’s it, do not go to afterlife, do not pass go, you are done. Sucks for them. Especially since unlike the whole becoming a sin eater deal we are so painfully cribbing from with this, it seems totally arbitrary who it happens to and why.

Anyway they kinda dance around this and kind of offer up extreme fear or hate as alternate causes but by the end of the expansion it’s abundantly clear that you turn into a monster from suicidal ideation... which makes a lot of the panicking crowds popping in the ensuing panic scenes feel really clumsy, writing wise. Also there’s this whole bit where a guy’s worried about his wife and new born baby in the chaos, gets chased by a monster and injured, turns into one himself, tries to kill his wife, she panics and jumps off a high ledge with her baby and dies on impact with the water, forcing you to dive in after to rescue this now orphan baby and hand them off to someone. Here’s the thing though, this doesn’t happen in some instanced thing. This is just your standard, on the overworld, here’s someone giving you your current active quest, here’s where you go to do the next step chain. So you could totally like, wander off with this baby at the bottom of the well, go do sidequests, maybe some that mention “days later” in them, before rescuing this baby. Or do the rescue, but not the hand-off, and just have this inventory baby for a good long while It’s paced excitingly enough this only stuck me after, but it amuses me that it’s technically possible.

This is where the fake Satrap dies, and eventually where we set up our fresh set of Role quests. Each of the five basic combat class types has a lead about a big blasphemy in a different part of the world to look into... and none of these really go anywhere interesting. Healer is probably the most interesting, since it involves checking in on Fordola who is having a very hard time keeping it together and not turning into one of these. The rest are just kinda whatever. Gosetsu shows up again briefly to call out a charlatan medium in the ranged attacker one. Offensive magic has the one that hurts my suspension of disbelief because you deal with the ONE blasphemy in Ishgard and like... it’s Ishgard. The whole place should be a crater right away. As is though yeah there’s like... five people suicidal enough in the rest of the world combined to become blasphemies, and then like half the population of Thavnair. Hell a little later you go back to Garlemald and have to deal with a bunch more of this, but it’s because Thavnairian refugees are coming through on the way to somewhere less terrifying as the red sky spreads to the area and a bunch of them lose it at the thought of nowhere being safe. These people are just kind of this game’s punching bag. My best guess between that and the way there’s no real connection on the map, which is also a bit less filled with interesting details than most, is a lot more was planned for the region but there were cuts and/or delays and the focus of all this ended up there just to flesh things out, but still.

Oh yeah and while dealing with the attack in the Imperial ruins, Zenos shows up randomly to take a big blasphemy down with his cool new scythe... and complain about how bored he is and ask if you can pretty please fight him to the death again soon as soon as you stop getting distracted by this whole thing. He was also pretty polite about this on the moon, but Alisaie wasn’t there to call him out. Another really fun scene here.

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I love how he gets called out for being a weird hedonistic kinkster here, and I love how he responds to Jullus the one Imperial soldier who grew a clue before successfully getting himself killed, barely, with this “wait would you seriously be OK with me destroying the whole country here if I was doing it for some kind of good reason? That is seriously messed up dude, get help.” And then that eye roll at the end.

So turns out the big secret of the Nerd Council is they found the actual embodied true form of Hydaelyn in a cave and she broke down all the details on Zodiark being a load-bearing boss someone would probably eventually kill, and they should really coordinate with these moon rabbits on a plan to evacuate the whole world just in case. And like, OK, but A- they’re really terrible at this. Didn’t even communicate the physical needs of people or population estimates. B- this is really the sort of thing where being less coy and explaining things to the protagonist in particular would maybe help avoid the whole problem because who else do you even have to worry about accidentally killing a god in the heat of the moment? Maybe Estinien? Tell him too. Oh and C- the nihilistic weirdo wanting to end all life and largely doing so by covering the world in mind-control towers kinda seems like a barrier to getting everyone out safely. Same with the deadly biochemical weapons from earlier. Point is the twins’ dad really sucks. Their mom is cool though. She helps Alphinaud switch classes to Sage, the healer that gets a set of flying laser cannons. Also it eventually turns out she’s quietly been THE source of funding for the Scions forever through anonymous donations. Who’s gonna tell these kids their parents are probably getting a divorce?

Getting things back on track, your only real lead is the cryptic hint about the flower. It doesn’t go much of anywhere, except a name for it that dates back to Ascian times. So with all the rest very dead, you go check in with Elidibus who’s not technically dead, just, you know, soul trapped in the crystal tower. Which is also essentially a giant database of Allagan science notes. Turns out while he’s been in there he’s mellowed out a lot and is willing to rework things and send your soul back in time to get info from before anything of note on the whole millennia long timeline happened. Specifically to a research facility called Elpis where people used to send the dangerous monster designs they came up with because they’re bored weirdos with world shaping powers to test and make sure they’re viable and would fit in an ecologic niche somewhere. Problem is you come through all ghostly and also I wasn’t kidding about the 30 foot giants. Fortunately someone eventually notices the weird tiny ghost and convinces his boyfriend to shove some aether into you so you’re solid and properly sized.

If it isn’t our old friend from a few thousand years from now Emet-Selch and his boyfriend we’re at least on good terms with some kinda recreated imaginary semi-ghost version of Hythlodaeus. They looked real dorky back forever ago. Anyway they assume from the matching color of your soul that you’re the familiar of their friend Azem, which, sure, technically distant future reincarnation of slightly more than 50% of said but close enough. So they let you hang out on this business trip. They’re here to offer the position of Fandaniel to this guy here whose real name is Hermes since the previous one just retired, and he’s all mopey about it because when people retire they kill themselves so they can get reincarnated. Except for the previous Azem, she just figured she’d keep hanging out. It’s totally a voluntary thing, not an enforced Logan’s Run sort of thing but there’s still a weird social stigma if you don’t do it so like, hey, Emet-Selch, I feel like you were overselling this place. Everyone’s a workaholic nerd who off themselves when they’re out of ideas for new research grants, and things are looking decidedly more ancient Greece and less extra art deco New York than previously suggested.

Turns out this Hermes kid is really depressed and fixated on death in general. Which is kinda weird when everyone is officially immortal. He’s particularly bummed about how it’s literally his job to snap his fingers and reduce terrible terrible monsters that would like end all life if allowed to exist in the world to their component elements, and fair enough. Maybe work on getting people to stop making horrible ravenous death beasts in the first place though? Anyway he’s proud of himself for making this weird little psychic bird girl who much like these mood ring flowers is also super empathic and gets all sad and mopey with him whenever he gets sad and mopey, which is a lot. In fact, he made a whole bunch. They’re psychically networked, and all called Meteion. Like meteor. Because he’s sending them all out to explore space and try to find some kind of meaning of life thing out. Also they’re based on this Dynamis stuff. Apparently 60% of the mass of the universe is made up of Dynamis. It’s just kinda weaker than Aether so nobody cares, but he’s pretty sure he’ll be able to untap its potential and activate it all like, as he says, a river breaking free of a dam. You can totally see where all of this is going here, right? It’s exactly as blunt as I’m making it sound.

Anyway you hang out a while dealing with this depressed kid and his weird bird girl, and eventually she gets an update that hey, the rest of her sisters have finished that task Hermes sent them out on forever ago after making them apparently some time ago and never formally submitting the design or the plan he had for him to any of his superiors. Specifically the plan was to take his super empathic socially needy bird girls, have them all fly through the supernaturally soul crushing void of space, find whatever aliens might exist and ask them what to him is the ultimate question, apparently some variation on “if everybody just dies in the end what’s even the point of going on living!?” and like... hey, I get it. Someone explained heat death to me when I was like 12. I had a similar breakdown about it. But as Emet-Selch starts tearing into him about as the report comes in, it is really just a terrible idea for all sorts of reasons to try and establish first contact with alien races by having a bunch of depressed bird girls show up and start trauma dumping on them out of the blue.

The results are pretty grim too. They just start going through planet by planet with these little stories about finding formerly inhabited planets where literally everyone is dead, and researching all the various ways this happened. These people had a apocalyptic war. These people got all spiritually enlightened, ended all suffering, and got too bored to keep going. These people had a godlike ruler who got in a bad mood and killed everyone, and hey, talking to us made him suicidal and he killed himself on the spot. This also happened when we contacted this planet where two factions were in this tense cold war setup... Everyone including Meteion really wants to cut the feed on this depressing stuff but Hermes insists on hearing the whole thing and goes off with her to do so.

In the middle of all this though, that aforementioned retired Azem shows up. Her name’s Venat. She’s more on to your weird deal than these others, mostly because she notices you have magic wards on you that seem to have been put there by her, plus she’s visibly that human form of Hydaelyn you got a quick vision of, so, yeah. Pre-deity Hydaelyn here. And she’s nice enough. Eventually the others kinda work out that you two have some weird secret thing going and you end up explaining the deal to the others and Emet-Selch basically responds with, “hey, screw you? Assuming you’re not just making all this up, you’re telling me I just become an absolute melodramatic flouncing asshole in the future, and I refuse to believe that. Like especially the part about me recreating the whole city and everyone in it to mope in? There is no way I would ever become such an over the top drama queen” and like, he keeps going for a WHILE with this. It’s great.

So you all go to confront him about the whole thing, and he arranges the showdown to be at this uh... big computer clock thing on hand that can do time warp things and also erase people’s memories and give them new ones. Seems like a bad thing to have around! Very easily abused! He totally supports his depressed bird daughters in the conclusion they draw that all life in the universe should be eliminated so there’s nobody left to be sad and die, so he’s going to wipe everyone’s memories and just play dumb about the pending bird-girl driven psychic suicidal apocalypse. Your past pals play some head games and Emet-Selch in particular pulls a big switcheroo so you and Venat get teleported out at the last minute. She goes on to become Hydaelin eventually and avoids technically having a villain turn by way of doing the whole Shiva style transformation, there’s precedent, but let’s be real she still kinda sucks and turned the worst Scion into a hand puppet for a bit in there. Anyway, now you know why the world’s ending. A depressed bird girl out in space somewhere. Oh and it’s not like the Fandaniel you know and hate has the memories of this Hermes loser, just his soul, the memories of the main reason Allagan was awful, and the body of the genocidal viceroy’s somehow even worse villain. Just a turducken of guys who really suck.

Back in the present you go find Hydaelyn in the magical god flesh to compare notes on your big stable time loop here, and she’s polite enough to challenge you to a fight to make sure you’re prepared to face some horribly depressed bird girl. And really goes all out so you “tragically” have to kill her. And definitely don’t feel super smug and relieved that in the end you really did get to go and kill literally every god anyone ever summoned. That you know of anyway.

You talk all the nerds in Nerd Town into letting you borrow their secret evacuation spaceship if you can find nerds able to increase the engines’ efficiency because as is, even the moon evacuation plan would take too long. That bits easy because you know a ton of nerds and a ton of people willing to drag over chunks of Dalamud, the whole Bahamut prison moon which are all over the place and make good scrap for this. Then the only problem is loading in enough Aether as fuel to get to the far edge of the universe. If only there was a really good way to condense a whole massive pile of crystals into something nice and compact. Say the size of a boss fight. Oh right summoning gods! The lopporits, who totally ended up coming down with Urianger to get firsthand knowledge of day to day planet life to build better stuff for people and also just dig it, just so happen to know an alternate summon ritual that bypasses all the greedy syphoning of all the world’s aether and mind controlling everyone in the area. That’s... absurdly convenient. So you get a bunch of reformed priests to resummon every god up through Stormblood with the safety on, and just... load them into the fuel tank of this spaceship you kinda low key stole from some terrible nerds. Actually at the very last minute Cid shows up to “help” and honestly the work is all done literally all the guy does is add a coat of paint with his logo on it, and insist on naming the thing. Kind of a dick move, Cid. So he kinda steals it from them and you steal it from him.

So... I feel like I’m due to break text up with something and the end of the universe, AKA Ultima Thule, or as I like to call it, Space Hell, is super visually interesting but it photographs terribly so have this but honestly this dorky power ballad is NOT playing when you show up here. Nor are silly mounts until you’re done with the plot, like every area basically.

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Space hell is built out of the random chunks of various dead worlds Meteion found just kinda brought together into a depressing collage. Technically some of these still have inhabitants, kind of. One is the dragon homeworld, and as we know dragons don’t really die properly, so, they’re all dead, but still hanging out being super depressed about the intense pollution not letting them have kids who aren’t monster freaks. We’ve got people who became beings of pure thought and then got depressed about heat death, and then realized they need to have bodies again to kill themselves, we’ve got the race of horrible death robots who destroyed dragon planet, and honestly a hell of a lot of other planets. Backstory is they were really wimpy and paranoid about being killed by space horrors, so they built death robots and also went full cyborg and transfered their minds into death robot bodies and upgraded those further and built Omega and kinda got real carried away on the proactive defense and realized they kind of had killed like half the life in the universe and could totally take the other half in a fight even all at once. So then they had a big existential crisis because what were they doing before going to war again?

So again, this is after the credits roll and you come back here in the patches, but after you finish this whole existential threat to the universe thing you come back here with a now retired lopporit and they’re still all what do we even do now, so you just toss it out there that one of the other worldlets was this like coffee shop from a planet where the bird girls couldn’t even work out how everyone died it looks like they just got raptured or whatever, so why don’t the death robots just like, move in and open a nice little cafe. Make coffee and soup and stuff for all the other last survivors of civilizations. And they go for it and it’s probably my favorite of all the tribe quests.

But we’re not here to help death robots research soup recipes YET. We’re here to recreate the original first season Sailor Moon finale. Marching across a horrible field of total desolation where all of our friends make big heroic sacrifices one by one so we can continue. And honestly the framing is weird because basically it’s a chain of finding a nihilistic alien representative, hear why they think life’s not worth living, someone steps up with a counter argument, they sort of explode and form a bridge to the next area. It’s all about the emotional arguments because this is all made of Dynamis, so everything operates on pure vibes. These are vibe-ranium bridges if you will. Anyway what I initially thought was going on here is you land in like pure depression land and people keep vanishing because they talk themselves into better head spaces and are ejected. I feel like that’d make way more sense, but no, all your friends are in fact explaining reasons to go on living then promptly dying.

Eventually you run out of friends as you hit the cafe here, and can only advance by talking to the depressed bird girl herself about all your personal trauma and stuff and how you get past it, which creates a very long stairwell to the surface of the dead sun she’s keeping everyone’s souls in so they can’t reincarnate, and THAT’S when the power ballad in that earlier clip kicks in, as you walk up to have a boss fight. And you know, it’s a pretty good JRPG final boss fight. Big weird woman, lots of wings jutting out all over, really over the top throwing planets at you attacks. The classic stuff. And then halfway through the fight freaking Zenos just literally comes crashing through the 4th wall and goes “hey, this who you’re fighting? She doesn’t actually seem tough, you want to hurry it up? I stopped by the bar you scions hang out at and someone said you were here, so I turned myself into a dragon again so we can finally have that proper rematch as soon as you’re done here. Do you need help or anything to finish up faster?”

Tumblr’s not letting me add any more movies but NO REALLY THIS ACTUALLY HAPPENS it’s hilarious. And here’s the comic version.

I have a line I really want to go out on here, so, again, here’s my Patreon. I hope I’ve entertained and educated you with all this over the course of the month. And here’s what I have to say on what post-game currently exists for this. Also here is the actual proper 10th part of this whole project I later wrote after the Endwalker patch cycle finally finished.

The ghost of Emet-Selch and his boyfriend show up for a last minute sappy pep talk, and to remind you that while it might seem like we’ve literally wrapped up every single loose end, there’s some islands you’ve never been to. A whole southern continent to explore. The rest of those dimensional shards. You never got around to fighting The Twelve. So yeah title cards and NPCs and E-S narrating this expansion have been saying the whole time this is the end of the story, but we’re not DONE done. So you beat this bird girl down, the dead sun hatches and blue sun yolk drips out restoring life to the universe, your friends all get to come back, you activate their emergency teleporters and chuck yours so you can go in for the finishing blow, and then well, here you are. Just alone at the edge of the universe in a big empty space behind a random diner. Zenos just finally got the message and came and did something good to help you out, and he’s really giving you those puppy dog eyes. So after a set of dialog choices for exactly how you want to begrudgingly admit you honestly do also enjoy a really over the top boss fight, you begrudgingly agree to have a big duel with him, you know, just this once, fully aware he gets off on these, and it honestly goes on for a really long time, including a bit where he flat out kills you and teaches you the boss encounter trick to just pulling out a second health bar through sheer force of will, and the whole thing ends with you just tossing your weapon aside and running up to give him a big ol’ punch right between those weird never quite focused eyes of his while he has this blissed out grin.

So the conclusion, for now, of the whole long epic story of Final Fantasy 14 which I have explained to you this month is, I swear before this whole mountain of dead gods, that you make sure none of your friends are looking and give Zenos a pity handjob in the back lot behind a diner in the middle of nowhere.

#mic drop #final fantasy 14 #ff14 #final fantasy xiv #ffxiv #there's flying and humanoid sharks in elpis and hythlodaeus says they're big now and I know I know plenty of furry artists don't tell me...

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