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honestly-oceanie · 1 year

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You drew stars around my scars || Manhwa DILFS edition

Synopsis: drawing or painting something on them

《Claude de Alger Obelia, Anastacius de Alger Obelia, Regis Adri Floyen, Abel Heilon, Gallahan Lombardi, Charente Crown, Dane Henstone, Lant Agriche | gn!reader》

{Fluff♡ | ▪︎imagine/scenario▪︎}

A/N: should I do the female leads/characters next?

Who Made Me A Princess/ Suddenly, I Became A Princess One Day

Claude De Alger Obelia

"Emperor of the Obelian Empire"

🦋 You were sitting on one of the couches provided on the Emperor's office per usual. Just laying there doing nothing eventually got you into boredom.

🦋 You started to think of something that may entertain you. Then your eyes come across the quill on Claude's office table. You suddenly remembered that day you spend with Athy.

🦋 The young princess managed to get ahold of some paint and offered if she could paint some doodle on you. You had been strict on neatness so this made you quite nervous inside yet you agreed with the young princess' request. She did told you to return the same favor to her, and you both had the joyous laugh and fun of your lives. Lily did scold the both of you after she caught you two.

🦋 Since it's only you and the Emperor, only he could be your victim. You ask if you could draw on him mindlessly, forgetting just who you were talking to. After a long moment of stunned silence, you finally realized that the person you were talking to is Claude de Alger Obelia.

🦋 As you were about to apologize, he says: "It's fine." Of course you were shock, contemplating if he did mean it or if it's your last day of living. After a while, you finally stood up and did as you wanted to.

🦋 As a matter of fact, he actually saw what happened that day, he could hear your rare laugh along with his daughter's. He decided to 'check' on what was happening and there he saw you both, filthy with paint yet happy. Thus, today he was quite shock by your sudden request, he won't ever admit it but he felt quite jealous seeing that.

🦋 It would be quite nice to do this to him while he's having his beauty rest, but only when you have the guts🤭

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Who Made Me A Princess/ Suddenly, I Became A Princess One Day

Anastacius De Alger Obelia

"Former Emperor of the Obelian Empire"

🦋 Let's set this by the time he's still possessed.

🦋 As Lady Jennette's personal attendant, you had always been around her as she grew up. You were kindhearted and gentle. Jennette really admires you a lot, she grew to see you as a parental figure of hers.

🦋 One day, you saw Jennette chatting with a man that seemed familiar for some reason. After debating with yourself whether you should interrupt or not, you remembered the reason you came looking for her.

🦋 Anastacius could see you walking forward from his peripheral vision but he continued to talk with his daughter.

"Lady Jennette, your afternoon tea is ready."

"Right of course! I'll see you next time Viscount!"

🦋 After Jennette left, you and Anastacius had a short staring contest before you left to go follow the young lady.

🦋 Jennette doesn't seem to mind the company of this certain Viscount Patterson yet you were rather suspicious of him, he just has this mysterious aura that you can't trust him just yet. However, you didn't voice out your doubts, you were just a mere servant you couldn't just interfere in your master's business that easily. Eventhough Jennette wouldn't mind at all

🦋 After some days, there seem to be no suspicious movement from him so you started to warm up to him a bit. What matters the most to you was Jennette's safety and happiness.

🦋 You and Jennette were doodling on each others arms, this always bring calm to Jennette and she enjoys doing this so it has became a habit between you both, sometimes Ijekiel does join when he has spare time but today he was quite busy so instead you were accompanied by Viscount Patterson. Jennette's friendly personality invited him as he happened to pass by, and here he is now seated beside you.

🦋 Jennette had gotten tired and decided to take a break. As she ate her biscuits she suggested for him to join and for you to draw on him as she is too tired to continue.

"May I?"

🦋 You asked him and he did agree, only because of his daughter. He was surprise at how good you are and compliment you for your talent. He asked if you were an artist before but you were not, though painting and sketching are hobbies of yours.

🦋 Jennette watch the interaction between you two, she was very happy and celebrating inside. Although you were kind and gentle, you're also very shy, she still remembers the time you first meet her. Your soft voice and stuttering at your introduction replays in her memory. Before, you couldn't even talk without a stutter at all, yet here you are now finally allowing yourself to mingle with others.

🦋 You were slowly warming up, and Anastacius could see that too.

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Father, I Dont Want To Get Married!

Regis Adri Floyen

"Duke of the Floyen Duchy"

🦋 At this very moment, Regis feels as the most fortunate man to be able to have you in this life.

🦋 Jubel is seated in front of you as you do a portrait of her. After you had finish, she excitedly rush to you. Seeing your finished masterpiece of her, Jubellian poured a waterfall of praises while gazing amazedly at you.

🦋 She fancied you even in the 'novel', you were the only one who genuinely cared for the villainess. You tried everything to break up Jubellian and Mikhail, knowing he wasn't sincere with her at all, yet it cause the connection between you both to cut off as Jubellian believes "you did not want for her to be happy". Despite all that, you still defended her during the accident even if it costed you your life.

🦋 The entire ordeal, Regis just watched your interaction with his daughter, very grateful that you are still a part in this life. The serenity of the sight in front of him brought Regis' heart into peace. This tranquility he wishes would last, but he knows now is not the right time, but eventually it will come. He has been given a second chance to right the wrongs so he must use this chance, right?

🦋 Jubel could feel some piercing eyes from behind her, she turned to scold max as she thought it was just him, but it was her father, gazing lovingly at them. Picking up on the hint, Jubel excuse herself so you and her father could spend some time.

🦋 Regis took the seat Jubel previously seated on, waiting for you to pick up on his presence. All of a sudden, Selena thought it would be a good opportunity to be the third wheel. You heard a chirping on your side, knowing it was either Selli or Eddie, you took a look at your side only to yelp, surpise to find the empty spot replaced by Regis and Selena on his shoulder.

🦋 Afterwards you started some small talk with him while petting Selli, who moved to lay on your lap. Since you had already made a portrait and painting of Regis before, you thought why don't he become your canvas this time.

🦋 Although he was confuse on what you meant he agreed, you hold his arm and started drawing some cute animals you could think of there. Although it wasn't his first time seeing your artworks, it never ceases to amaze him.

🦋 He loves to give compliments and praises to your artworks and you. In this life, he will cherish you always and never take you for granted.

🦋 While you two are having a lovey-dovey moment, Jubel watches from the door, she was very happy for the two of you, however someone was not. Selena was not happy, not because of the two of you but because you still haven't made a portrait of her. Don't worry 'cause Edward comforted her as he too, still hasn't gotten his own portrait.

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Author Of My Own Destiny/ I Became The Wife Of The Male Lead

Abel Heilon

"Duke of the North"

🦋 You and Abel had a slow burn romance which Fiona greatly regrets now. At first she thought it was a good idea and she really liked how it turned out. But right now she just wants to shove the two of you together in one place so these longing stares will finally come to an end.

🦋 Even Siegren understands the situation very well and wants to help pushing it too. Fiona herself is tired of you two, just why did it had to be slow burn?!

🦋 Finally, Siegren and Fiona had come up with a plan. A few plans as a matter of fact. Though hopefully they won't have to use all of it.

🦋 The first two plans failed miserably. But they say third time's a charm.

🦋 You were invited by Siegren and Fiona, they said they wanted to spend some time with you and have 'fun'. You, of course agreed, you love these kids too much to even reject their puppy eyes. You guys are on Fiona's room, some art materials scattered on the floor waiting to be use.

🦋 You have no idea why they thought of this, but currently you three are running around the room having a paint war, attacking whoever you get ahold of with some messy drawing or even a doodle with the paint you have in your hands.

🦋 Now Fiona's room isn't presentable at all not even a little decent, but none of you cared, even Fiona and Siegren are having too much fun that they almost forgot their mission. Luckily Abel came in at point.

🦋 Abel was stunned at what had happen to Fiona's room, he scolded the children for their reckless behavior. Now things weren't going as planned. You couldn't stand to see the kids being scolded for you have a very soft spot for them. You just said what you could think of at that moment; inviting Abel to join you guys instead. You were surprise you even had the guts to interrupt him but words can't be taken back once they're said. Fiona and Siegren were internally celebrating, you managed to sail the boat without even knowing!

🦋 Abel was pondering for awhile if he should really join you guys or scold you too. But he succumb to his desire and join you three, though just most likely you. The kids immediately run off on the corner of the room to avoid disturbing you two, then acted as though they were doing something. You give a smile to Abel as he sat down beside you. You raise the paint brush on your hand, silently asking him if you could draw on him and he nodded.

🦋 You looked serious as you were doing your task but really, your heart was beating too fast it could leap out of your chest, you tried your best to look normal as possible, unbeknownst to you Abel was on a similar situation. Fiona and Siegren just staring at you both intensely, praying and hoping that this plan would succeed.

🦋 After you had finish Abel stared at your drawing for awhile before grabbing your wrist and the paint brush on your hand, taking you by surprise but also intrigued by what he is gonna do. Instead of drawing, he seemed to write some letters on your arm but you couldn't read it properly as he was covering it. After he had finally written the words he couldn't say, he let you read it.

🦋 Your eyes went wide as you proccess the words written on your arm by Abel Heilon himself. This was a sudden confession but Abel couldn't hold it in anymore. There was a long moment of silence, Abel was growing nervous, maybe this wasn't the right time, but you proved him wrong as you jumped on him to tackle him with a hug. You repeated the words he wrote to you as you stared at his eyes.

🦋 Just the two of you on your own world... until Fiona and Siegren cheered loudly to celebrate this success, you two had almost forgetten they were there too.

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I'll Be The Matriarch In This Life/ I Shall Master This Family

Gallahan Lombardi

🦋 You and Gallahan are always willing to try anything new in your relationship, that's how you two have had a lot of habits and tradition you both just randomly made up.

🦋 Just like now, when you saw a quill on the table, you dipped it with its ink, and did some cute little drawings on his face while your other hand keeps him steady. He just sat still waiting for you to finish what you were doing without interrupting you.

🦋 Once you were done, you run around to find a hand mirror then gave it to him so he could see what you've done to him, he was surprise as it was his first time seeing you draw something even though it is on his face, but he liked how good your drawings are even if it's simple.

🦋 He feign sadness as you laugh at him. Promising to help him clean up after you feel satisfied. He wasn't gonna back down that easily, whilst you were trying to calm down, he swiftly got ahold of the quill and did the same favor on you, it caught you off guard.

🦋 Instead of cleaning up, you ended up having a competition on who had the best drawing. Tia was walking around when she saw what you two were doing, it seems fun she wanted to join and of course you both let her.

🦋 In the end, you both made tia win, you and Gallahan now look messier than ever as you let tia draw a lot, what's important was that you had tia have some fun. Since tia didn't had much inks on her, you let the maids take care of her.

🦋 You and Gallahan are helping each other remove the inks on each other. Being together brought you both in happiness, no matter the circumstance you may face you know you both can pull through. Afterall you promised one another to be there through sickness and health. For now, while there is still chance you try to do everything you can before the time is up. One's presence may fade but their memories will never cease to exist.

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Please Give Me The Pacifier!

Charente Crown

"Heir to the Crown Duchy"

🦋 I have mixed feelings with this man so I don't know what I'm doing here.

🦋 Kaishan loves to have you around, because of you Kaishan had become rebellious to his father, thus Charente had allowed you to visit his manor at some appointed time(s) which honestly scared you.

🦋 But overtime Charente had gotten used to your presence, he eventually let you visit at anytime you wished to which made you and Kaishan celebrate with joy.

🦋 You had thought about doing this activity so Kaishan could have some fun. Your company is enough for Kaishan to have fun and be happy. Unfortunately, you had forgotten to bring the materials with you, you apologize to the cute kid but he told you not to worry, he left the room in a hurry but not before telling you to not follow him as he will be back soon.

🦋 Kaishan run off to find his father and told him the situation. After some minutes of waiting, Kaishan finally returned... with his father carrying the materials needed. Thankfully you had gotten accustomed with his existence so you did not mind him around anymore.

🦋 At first, you were just calmly teaching him how to do some basic painting starting with shapes first yet he decided to start a war by smudging some paint on your face on purpose, he gave a cheeky apology afterwards but you knew you weren't putting down without a fight, so you return the same favor to him. You and Kaishan are now filthy with paint yet Charente didn't stop you at all, you both were having a good time.

🦋 You didn't know, but as much as you make Kaishan happy, you also make Charente happy internally, he is already satisfied with the proximity you two have and yet he can't help but feel jealous of his own son right now.

🦋 You could feel him burning holes at the back of your head so you turn to look at him. His eyes seems to say something, you had an inkling on what it may be but you did not dwell much on it, afterall he was a man that's very hard to read, you'd rather avoid the consequences than to suffer from it because of some misunderstanding.

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Tricked Into Becoming The Heroine's Stepmother

Duke Dane Henstone

🦋 His situation is quite similar to Charente's but successful thanks to the help of his little pumpkin that made it possible.

🦋 You were at the garden with Pierta, watching as she eats one of her favorite candy, pumpkin candy. You are aware of how much she loves her pumpkin and wanted to do something special for her, unfortunately, you had no idea how to cook nor bake so you think of other ideas.

🦋 You remembered in your childhood how much you loved to have the ink spilled on your skin as you draw whatever you could think of, you always end up getting scolded by nanny, in the end the entire household made sure that any ink or something that may color your skin will be out of reach for you. At first you threw tantrums but eventually you grew to forget about it.

🦋 Luckily, you always bring a pen with you. You thought about drawing some cute pumpkins on Pierta. The little one complied when you ask her to give you her hand, then you started drawing some pumpkins with funny faces. Pierta seemed to like it too much as she reaches out to you again asking you to do more.

🦋 You chuckled nervously, you don't wish for the little pumpkin to have the same habit, just thinking about it made you sweat anxiously you don't want to face the wrath of Duke Henstone. Pierta notice some eyes and looked up to see her father, she immediately stood up and ran to him excitedly. You bowed to the Duke as you greet him, Pierta could understand that her father likes you and decided to be the cupid.

🦋 She drags her father towards you and have him seated, she explained to him what you were doing to her a few moments ago, she asks if you could do the same to her father. You tried to make up an excuse "Only if the Duke agrees with it." And of course he would, he'll do anything his daughter asks of him.

🦋 In the end, you gave in, how could you resist the little pumpkin. You were seriously staring at what you were doing while the Duke is also busy staring at you, none of you notice the chestnut cupid sneakily running away. After you had finish you looked up to him but immediately looked away after he stared back at you. It seems the little pumpkin went away huh. You finally started small conversation with him which he has been waiting to as he couldn't do so, something always happens whenever he wants to talk to you.

🦋 He'll be sure to thank his princess, knowing well that it was her who gave him this opportunity.

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The Way To Protect The Female Lead's Older Brother

Lante Agriche

"Former Head of the Black Agriche"

🦋 Nah. Just Nah. Runn🏃‍♂️🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🏃

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ⋆✦⋆ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

╔══ ≪ °❈° ≫ ══╗

Honestly, Oceanie

╚══ ≪ °❈° ≫ ══╝

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lovehotelreservation · 1 year

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Healslut

Summary: Not your own Leader caring this much about your DPS as a healer!

Truly, this training session is going to be so bothersome!

Rating: NC-17

Pairing: F!Reader/Regis

IYKYK 😭😭😭😭😭

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It was always the most pestering thing when the easiest of tasks was made to be impossibly difficult.

In this case, your current crux of aggravation was taking down a target dummy with the power of your offensive magic–a fair and straightforward endeavor for a healer of your prowess. After all, your association with the renowned Adventurer’s Guild TEMPUS brought some prestige to your name throughout the lands of Elysium.

And yet, here you were, barely able to cobble together any sense of concentration to imbue your staff with enough magic to fire at your target.

But how could you, really?

Even while you tightly gripped your staff with not a shred of slack in the slightest, you were still left to tremble, any recitations of magic marred by breathless gasps and whines.

Your knees buckled, your face scorched scarlet, your thighs quivered, your robes disheveled–your current visage was far and away from the adored image of TEMPUS’s trusted healer.

And it was all in part due to the land’s acclaimed hero.

Their Regis, your Altare.

For while you held a great deal of respect for your Leader, you yearned to take a nice and solid swing at his knee with your staff as penance for what he was currently doing to you.

A re-establishment of the basics to adventuring at the training hall–it was what he proposed exclusively to you after a recent dungeon endeavor with him and the other TEMPUS members. Under his watchful gaze, your insistence on overhealing instead of taking time to assist with needed offense only served to drag out your time descending further into the murky depths that awaited you all.

For the commonfolk of Elysium, such a suggestion from the soft-spoken, smiley hero would only serve to live up to his golden stellar reputation.

But before your eyes, in your ears, and on your skin, this advice only drew out your further ire.

Especially as you once again conjured up your magic to send a disk of magic ricocheting right over to the training dummy, it was at the same exact moment that your leader shifted ever so slightly from where he stood behind you.

His hands–ever skillfully deft with a sword and happily extended for any weary soul to take–continued to roam along your body, with one having been shoved through the front of your robes to fondle your breasts all while the other continued to travel along your side, giving your hip and your ass a squeeze.

This was all in tandem to the push and plunge of his cock in-between your bared thighs, his thick girth gliding seamlessly right against the slick, velvety warmth of your core’s entrance.

His lips, usually fixed in that serene and dreamy smile of his, continued to drag along the side of your neck, happy and eager to leave mementos of his presence from kisses and bites on your skin.

His voice, ever a sweet and soft articulated timber, only sought to make you cry out and shudder in anticipation from every filthy thing he murmured to you.

“Remember, if you can’t clear such a simple task, I get to stain that pretty face of yours with my cum while calling over Dez, Vesper, and Axel over to take a good long look at you~”

Whatever spell you were planning to release at last simply eviscerated before your very eyes as you whined with the helpless buckle of your knees and the tight press of your thighs.

Altare was laughing, taking a moment to steal yet another nibble to your neck while he quickened the pace of his thrusts.

“Ah, ah, ah, don’t think that cute thigh clench is gonna go unnoticed by me~ Not that I’m surprised–of course a healslut like you would be excited from being humiliated in front of your comrades.”

Your teeth clenched. “Don’t even start, Altare–”

“‘Me’?” There was amusement to his tone–without looking back at him, you knew his eyes were glittering with thrill at your defiance. “And just who is in this predicament right now, hmm?” He tested, this time bringing his teeth to your earlobe for a teasing nip. “Not my fault that our lovely healer isn’t being efficient while on the job~”

Your eyes narrowed, your face snapping towards him with a glare. “Do you want to survive, or what–?!”

It was in that moment that your staff instantly thrummed full with magic, of which you didn’t waste another moment further to send crackling through the air to send hurtling towards the training dummy, the weighted doll bursting apart upon impact.

The frustration in your eyes dissipated as you watched the debris hit the floor, with Altare doing much the same as he slowed his thrusts to a halt.

Silence settled into the room for a moment, up until you breathed in and exhaled with relief.

At last, you were finally done and finally free from this accursed exercise.

While you still had to deal with the needy ache between your thighs, you rejoiced at no longer having to put up with your leader’s shenanigans.

As you opened your lips to speak, you felt his arms squeeze around your waist as he began to laugh once more while he offered your cheeks a couple kisses. “Now that’s our healer!”

“Could’ve finished this a lot faster if it wasn’t for you–!” Whatever huffed retort you had to say in return was cut short as you were suddenly lifted up off from the ground, soon finding yourself hauled into his arms. “Leader–?”

His grinning lips found their way to yours, more soon following as he carried you over to one of the wooden tables within the training hall.

A trail of kisses soon made their way over to your ear as he then purred, “Did you think that was it? What you’ve shown to me is that there’s a lot to be desired with your stamina~”

While you greatly looked forward to seizing the pleasure of getting to give his knee a good whack with your staff afterwards, you sighed with content as you were laid across the table with him settling right between your thighs.

For as difficult as he made your days sometimes, it was so easy to love Altare.

#regis altare x reader #tempus x reader #reader insert #Fic #super freaknasty writing

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andywinter16 · 1 year

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Terror. Madness. Grief. It flashed all through Regis head when they got safely back to Insomnia. Poor Noctis cried the whole time for Luna. Luna and Ravus, he left them in their enemies hands. He sweard to Sylva, that he will get them back. Niflheim would pay for their crimes ! After leaving exhausted Noctis in hands of his caretakers, Regis went alone to the Crystal chamber. To have a word with his ancestors who silently observed their lifes.

Regis ordered everyone to leave. No one understand why, yet who they were to questioned the king´s decision. After that the chamber became cold, it felt even hostile to be alone there with Crystal. Regis without any pretensions summoned the power of the ring after more than eight years since he lost her, love of his life. He yearned for his Queen so much, for her soothing touch, her breathtaking smile and a raucous laugh. Those joyful memories still hurted when he though about her. You left us too soon, my love.

The kings and queens of Yore showed themselves before the current king. The time itself froze in the moment. A powerful magic was unleashed and Crystal reacted.

“ Why did you called upon us, child?” said the Founder king strictly on his massive throne. Regis felt so insignificant in their presence.

Drained Regis spoke to him as politely as he could. “"I wish to speak to my dear wife. She should be here among you as rightful ruler of Insomnia.” He stood there in anticipation, but no one showed up. The kings and queens were silent, until the Rogue queen took pity on him and said. “Young king, her soul is not here among us.” Regis was shocked. “ Then where is soul of my beloved?”

“ What an insolence, to think a mere mortal could be in our ranks.” the Warrior king said offended, many of the attendees agreeing with him.

Regis narrowed his eyes at the old king. “ Let me remind you o mighty king, that you all were once mortals like myself. And you especifically should know, what it is to lose your loved one.” One by one Regis looked around and exclaimed coldly. “ I ask you once again rulers of Yore, where is my wife?” Yet again no answer was given to Regis.

“Perhaps, I can give you the answer, your highness.” a woman emerged out of nowhere before Regis. He fastly drew his sword in defense. The woman came closer unarmed, as Regis noticed. She looked very young perhaps in her early twenties. “ You can´t expect answer from those who Bahamut chained to do his biding, my lord.”The woman looked at him with regret.” A cursed line of Lucis Caelum, to never know rest. You were ripped from my lady´s hands, when she wanted to bestow blessing upon your bloodline, your highness.” Regis was wary of her, yet something in him told him to listen to this child. “ If only I was stronger, then I could ripped Bahamut apart for his treachery.” the woman clenched her hand into a fist,” Your highness, you want answers that I can give you, my only condition is that you listen to what I have to say.” Regis briefly thought about it, he didn´t see harm in it.

“Let´s say young one, that I would accept this proposal. But first tell me, who are you and about what lady you spoke of to?” curiosite got better of him.

The woman bowed deeply. “ Hope your highness will pardon my rudeness. I am here on behalf my lady, Etro. And as for me, I am her humble servant Andrea, but perhaps you will be more familiar with a name Leo.” mischievous smile played on her full lips. Regis froze in place upon hearing that name. He remembered the ancient books, in his youth, that told about that name: Leo the beast of Etro´s gate and guardian of dead.

#ffxv #final fantasy xv #regis lucis caelum #noctis lucis caelum #Kings and queens of Yore #Bahamut is a dick #etro goddess #little helper of Etro #Leo the tired guardian who´s in need of nap #no idea if I ever get more of this

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saturniade · 2 years

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the witcher books were the first books I managed to read on my own (grew up with b reading issues) and I am so excited to see someone making twbook content.... here is your crown queen 👑

waaaahhh thank you so much!!! it's so good to see fellow witcher book enjoyers you cannot imagine........ id been meaning to get into witcher for a while and finally started reading the books in march after i left my fail job (im still looking in the direction of the games but my laptop will not handle them i am pretty sure lol). honestly the books are VERY engrossing & great and i really enjoy sapkovkys writing style, tongue-in-cheek comedy and worldbuilding even tho the later plot-ful books were kind of overwhelming with characters, devastation & violence and fantasy politics. im glad you enjoy my silly little arts!!!!!! here are some bite-sized fancontents re:the book:

^ a SILLY one for the whole gang!!! i like ciri when she's a little girl. the whole plotline with ciri's child was fucking no exagerration BONKERS and while it was caprivating i DON'T want to think about it too much. she shouldve had a childhood is what i think.

^ this one i drew under the impression of that scene from The Last Wish where jaskier suddenly appears from a portal and geralts like JASKIER !!! and jaskiers like GERALT !!! and i remember half-distinctly the book mentioning they held hands in some way and that #bestie moment made me very happy.

^ this is a crossover vision of mine and i do like it plenty (jaskier and yennefer established relationship !!). to add to the tweets, geralt would be a many-times-reincarnated vampire hunter and ciri would be a fresh and new vampire hunter who is also a vampire cause she's awesome like that. regis is a vampire in this au too but he doesnt do much he is basically geralts weed dealer and a cool guy to hangout with.

#The Last Wish is a DELIGHT for geraskier truthers i LOVE their buddy buddy moments and stuff #ive been putting off book 8 for a bit and am only reading it now #the first 7 i hyperblasted through and thought well number 8 is kinda a fun behind the scene one and i should save it :]#so im maybe halfway through that. the characters are again are a little a lot but thats fine. familiar faces prevail !!!#witcher #doods #yoo my post #the stuff is taken from my twitter including the sketchbook photos (sorry too lazy to get up and grab it for better pics)

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eredins-a-king-aint-he · 1 year

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Oh my god, this is gonna sound so funny, but thank you so much for reblogging Regis x Geralt art today! You have helped solve part of a mystery that’s been haunting me since the 2018 Porn Ban! Lol. So maybe you can help me further? Basically, I haven’t played the Witcher games (I started once, but I couldn’t figure out the controller very easily and gave up), but I had been following this artist on tumblr whose OTP had been Regis x Geralt. I didn’t know anything about the pairing or game, but this artist was AMAZING. They drew Geralt as trans a lot and much of their work was nsfw, so of course, when the Ban happened, their art got blocked. I didn’t notice right away, as it wasn’t an OTP of mine, I just really liked the artwork. But I realized a few months later that I wanted to try to find their work again. But I couldn’t remember Regis’s name, and I don’t know how to describe any of the art’s characteristics. But then you posted some Regis x Geralt today and it clicked! Does this blog sound familiar to you at all? I just remember lots of that pairing, and lots of trans!Geralt (he had scars on his chest, but no bottom surgery; he and Regis would switch and he had a strap of some sort sometimes, while during others he bottomed). If you don’t know, that’s okay, I’m just finally one step closer already cuz of you. So thanks! Lol.

Sorry this literally took me months to answer— pretty sure it’s this artist on twitter

#cedar answers #asks #sorry again lmao I’ve been otherwise occupied

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theofaron · 3 years

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I saw this today

There's a lot I could do to redraw and improve this (I really want to) but fuck the background is damn good for something I forgot about imo

#remember when all i drew was dettlaff and regis

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adregisuccurrendum · 3 years

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The colored version of that Bloodborne AU. I didn’t expect the coloring to finish so soon! (Well probably because I’m vegetating at home and procrastinating on the inevitable take home test)

I feel my drawing style has changed a lot since the last time I posted four years ago. Hopefully for the better! I still remember @little---games was very excited about the Bloodborne AU, when I first drew Regis wearing the hunter garb 4 years ago. I am so glad you are still here, on this ship, my friend. 😭😭

#emiel regis #regis/geralt #the witcher #regalt #regis x geralt #geregis

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ahkaraii · 3 years

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[ff15] for the price of an arm (3666 words)

(spiritual sequel to my fancomic here, cw: gore)

"My, my," said the dismissive voice that still haunted Gladio's dreams, over a decade since. "Another one come for a rematch?"

"No." Gladio could not see Gilgamesh, but he knew the old bastard was watching him. "Not unless you don't give the Marshal back."

"The Marshal...?" A low, echoing laugh bounced around the bridge, and was then lost to the fog beyond. "Oh, the little lion? I'm afraid I bested him, long ago... He has belonged to me, since. And now, I have reclaimed him."

"Give him back," Gladio rumbled, voice like gravel. "Or I'll take all of your little arms, and then your fucking head."

The laugh echoed, fainter still, until there was a still sort of silence, broken only by a hair-raising whisper. "You may try, Shield of the Chosen King. But you shall not succeed."

"Show yourself," Gladio said, coldly. "And I shall prove you wrong, Corpse-Stealer."

It was only years spent fighting in the dark that allowed Gladio the reflexes to parry the blade that sought his head, and the years prior to that the ability to recognize the youth attached to the familiar body.

"Cor--?!"

It was undoubtedly the Marshal, but his once-lined face was now clear of scruff and weariness. His eyes were sharp, bright, and filled with a vicious determination Gladio had only ever seen aimed toward their enemies.

"Cor! Wait--"

The man did not appear to hear him, already in transition to perform a flawless gyaku-inazuma giri, and after Gladio hastily parried that opening onslaught, a tsuki thrust that nearly tore through Gladio's throat, managing only to avoid being skewered by leaping as far back as his legs would allow him, though of course Cor followed through flawlessly, relentlessly, and Gladio swiftly found himself on the defensive, gasping through disbelief and then raw, unhindered fury.

"You DARE!" Gladio howled. "You DARE steal his face!"

"His face belongs to me," tittered that ancient, odious voice, bouncing off the walls to the beat of Cor's Kotetsu against Gladio's Genji blade. "All of him does. And you shall not take him from me, unless, of course...you best me."

Gladiolus had bested the Blademaster once, and he could do it again. But it was quite a different story to be fighting against the puppet-corpse of his teacher, his friend. "Cor, don't do this," Gladio spared the breath to say. "Cor, don't make me do this!"

Cor did not appear to hear him, and through sinking dismay and true grief, Gladio knew Cor would never hear him, for Cor was likely already dead. Cor Leonis had said his goodbye, and everyone had respected it-- even Gladio had respected it, in the end. But he'd come down here to reclaim Cor's body and bring it back to Lucis. Bring it back home. He'd meant to bury the Marshal next to King Regis, as Gladio would want someone to bury him next to Noct, when his time came.

He'd envisioned having to fight the Blademaster for it, but he had never imagined he'd have to ruin Cor's corpse to win it back.

"You are dishonourable--" Gladio screamed. "You are despicable--"

"I am, at that," the voice may have whispered, but Gladio was fully concentrated on Cor's blade, the whistle of it before it nearly took out his legs; the metallic vibration of it when it parried his own massive katana; the reach of it, always further than one might expect.

Cor did not fight silently, for all that he did not speak a word. He grunted and gasped and growled, and it felt awfully like he lived again, for it was his selfsame voice, the voice Gladio had grown up listening to and learning from, fighting with and fighting for. It was both a gift and a gutwound, to hear it again, in the flesh.

It could have been a shorter fight-- intense, furious, but inevitably lethal-- had Gladio not kept missing opportunities to cleave the man in two. He could not bear it. A part of him longed to prolong this, if only to keep the fiction going. That Cor still lived, that Cor could still come back alive.

Unfortunately, the longer Gladio drew it out, the more tired he became. And Cor, in the undeathly grasp of Gilgamesh, did not.

He became faster, and faster, and impossibly faster, until Gladio knew that if he did not end this soon, if he did not end this now, then it was Gladio that would be cleaved into pieces, and Cor-- who had not once batted an eye at carnage, who had not once looked upon a fallen enemy with regret-- Cor would simply end him without giving a shit, and then Gladio would be dead, and all this would be for naught at all.

Cor Leonis was dead, Gladio told himself through glassy eyes and a swiftly clogging nose, and this? This was just a cruel echo. It would be kinder to silence it, and let it rest a memory.

So, without further hesitation, Gladio closed himself off, and with one sure thrust, impaled Cor's body with his very own Genji blade, twisting it to ensure he'd severed that great man's spine and abdominal aorta, then up to cleave through three ribs and into his lungs and hopefully his heart, so his end would be swift.

So his end would be sure.

But of-fucking-course the Immortal refused to die easy. Cor made a truly awful noise, choking on his own blood, body twitching with the aftershocks of an immense blow, still struggling, still attempting to swing his sword, which Gladio barely stopped with his other hand.

"Damn it," Gladio choked, through messy tears. "It's okay, Cor. Let go."

The man screamed wetly, gagging, jerking futilely against Gladio's hold. He was half-collapsed on Gladio already, legs limp and lifeless. But even still he refused to die, let alone let go of his sword, which came to rest on Gladio's shoulder, sharp side trying in vain to dig toward his neck, even now, when it was past the realm of unlikely into the sad reality of the impossible.

"It's all right," Gladio whispered. "Shh. Shhh. You can rest now."

Cor shuddered, twitched, and let out a rasping exhale, that seemed to last an age. Blood kept bubbling up his mouth, out his nose, and this close Gladio could see the burst blood vessels in his eyes, making the blue of them all the brighter, even as that inimitable gaze clouded, unfocused, and seemed to still half-lidded, far away.

His sword finally slipped out of his grasp, and clattered unceremoniously to the ground.

For a long while Gladio couldn't speak through his tears. The hand holding the Genji blade was soaked with Cor's blood, with his spilled flesh, and Gladio couldn't find the will to remove it, to further damage Cor's body with it. He pulled Cor close instead, tucking his old friend's face into his chest, shuddering through his grief and processing his rage.

"I'll kill you for this," Gladio promised wetly. "I will fucking desecrate you for this."

"You may try," the Blademaster said, finally showing himself at the other end of the bridge, both armless and unarmed. "I may even welcome it."

Gladio ran a gentle hand through Cor's bloodied hair, and impulsively kissed the top of it, like he remembered Cor doing, once, when he'd been six or seven and he'd asked Uncle Cor for a bedtime story, and he'd eagerly listened to the Marshal stumble through what was more a mission report than a proper fairytale, talking about some young punk going down to Hell to fight some big tough guy with a weird accent, to prove himself worthy of his King. And Gladio, who even at that age feared being unworthy above all else, had anxiously asked And he did, didn't he, Uncle Cor? And Cor had quirked that small, sad, private smile that he showed only to Gladio and Gladio's dad and their King, and then kissed the top of his head and said Sure, champ, 'course he did.

'Course he did.

Gladio gently laid Cor's body on the ground, dislodging the Genji blade from his sternum as carefully as he could. It was impossible to pull out the two-meter long blade elegantly, or even respectfully, not without the King's magic to simply dispel it as he would have preferred, but Gladio did his utmost to do it without messing Cor up more than he had to. He ached to throw the damn sword away and simply grab Cor's corpse and run with it, abscond with it, away from this traitor's cesspit of a bridge and finally lay it to rest where it deserved to be-- but another louder, righteous, and infinitely angrier part of him needed to take the Genji blade-- originally Cor's blade, and now forever the blade that had finally ended him-- and skewer that dishonourable, hateful, and pathetic wraith of a creature at the end of that bridge. If not for Cor's sake, then Gladio's own; for the Blademaster was, if legend served, ancestor to his own blood, traitor to his own line, and therefore Gladio was the last of that longwinded legacy, the last Shield, and if it was anyone's duty to end this farce of a trial, then was is his own.

Gladiolus Amiticia stood tall, and readied his bloodied blade with the grim resolve of a man ready to face his death and walk out alive.

Gilgamesh didn't say a word. He'd said all he needed to, over two thousand years of projected self-loathing, through cruel whispers and claimed corpses shambling in the dark, patiently waiting for his own end, waiting for just this moment.

The tension between the two warriors rose like a fetid odor, permeating a grave. Only one of them would leave here alive, and increasingly it seemed it would be Gladio, for Gilgamesh had made no move to summon either arms or weapons.

"Take out your sword already, you lowly piece of shit," Gladio demanded, coldly. "Or die without one."

Gilgamesh tilted his head slowly, gesturing towards Cor's corpse, cooling before him. "You've already taken it," he said, simply.

Rage enveloped Gladio. He'd killed defenseless men before, but only in the heat of battle; to kill a traitorous kin-killer like this would bring him no satisfaction. Hell, it might even bring him shame, and that pissed him right the fuck off. That even now, filled with so much grief and fury and resolve, he could still lose against this wretched ghost, because winning against a thing determined to die without a fight was no victory at all.

"Arm yourself, Blademaster!" Gladio roared, swinging the massive Genji blade, splattering drops of Cor's lifeblood upon the bridge.

"I have none left," the ghost said, mildly, shrugging his great shoulders bereft of limbs. "Claim my head, Gladiolus Amiticia. It is yours."

"You vile, repulsive--" Gladio snarled, incandescent with rage. "You dishonour my name, your name, the name of the man who you just made me kill-- the lives of my father, my father's father, and all the kings the Amiticia have served--"

"Yes," the Blademaster interrupted calmly, "That's right."

"Pathetic," Gladio spat. "You're pathetic. You are less than a man. I renounce you as Shield of the Founder King. I renounce your trial as anything more than worthless, wretched--"

"That is your right," the Blademaster agreed, placidly.

Gladio screamed, and in his mind, he rushed him. Genji blade met Genji armour and parted it like butter, revealed the putrid insides of a man long since dead; another swing beheaded the man and spilled his brain across the bridge; his red-soled boots stomped that skull to shards, mercilessly, pounding it into the ground, into less than dirt, into less than a memory; in his mind, his heart thoroughly disowned that heartless cur to oblivion.

In reality, Gladio only screamed. And then, heaving like a beast, he gathered up his spite and spat on the ground. "If you will not fight," the Last of the Amiticia swore, "then you will rot here, forevermore."

Gilgamesh's glowing eyes tracked him, quietly, then he bent his head forward, bent his whole body forward, into a bow. "Yes, Amiticia," that dry, ancient, patiently undying voice said, "I know."

Gladio could bear this no longer. He turned, blade in hand, seeking Cor's corpse--

Only to find Cor struggling to his knees.

"Cor?!" Gladio choked, and for a moment his grief and rage split him, for he could not kill Cor a second time, a second time would surely end him--

"Clarus...?" Cor's eyes were still bloodshot but the blue shone through, electric, and violently alive; his face was young, bereft of age lines and beard; he looked like he was half Gladio's age instead of double. "What...?"

"Cor!" Gladio fell to his knees. "You're alive!"

"You're not Clarus," Boy-Cor said, voice oddly-pitched. "Who're you?"

"I'm his son," Gladio said, through tears. "Fuck. God damn it. You're alive, Cor." He impulsively gathered Cor up in his arms, and the kid-- God! Cor was at most a fucking teenager!-- squirmed, uncomfortable, looking confused as all hell.

"As if I'd die in a place like this," Cor said, gruffly, and then he jerked up, "Wait, son?! Y'mean, you're his da?" He pushed Gladio away, squinting up at him suspiciously. "No fuckin' way... you ain't Marshal Amiticia. He's bald, and you got more hair than a goddamn Ronin!"

Gladio couldn't help but laugh, wetly-- even through his confused joy and skewered grief, hearing Cor speak like a feral brat was something else.

"...unless that's a wig? Uh, sir? Shit."

But Gods above, what if this was an illusion? Gladio's whole self shuttered at the thought. He wouldn't put it past that old ghost. He was vile enough for it, Gladio now knew.

"If this is a lie," Gladio murmured, tracing Cor's wary face with his eyes, thinking this might be the last time, "then I swear on my life, I will cut off your legs and piss on your mask, Blademaster."

Cor's eyes widened, narrowed, and shuttered in quick succession. "Well, that's gross," he said, tense-like, eyes skittering over to the Genji blade, thrown aside in Gladio's disbelief-- then he stared at something beyond Gladio's shoulder. "Wait, did'you actually kill him?!"

Gladio automatically followed Cor's line of sight, thinking he'd see the Blademaster as he had been seconds before-- but the fucker was no longer standing there, head bowed or otherwise. He'd vanished.

"Shit," Gladio swore, lunged for his sword-- immediately realized Cor had taken the Genji blade with him, and turned to snatch the Kotetsu instead-- and was on his feet an instant later, ready for a fight. "God damn it--"

"Ramuh's balls--" Cor piped up. "You fuckin' did!"

Cor had fearlessly loped on over to where the Blademaster had once stood, all two meters of the Genji blade casually resting on his shoulders like it belonged there, instead of the Kotetsu he'd carried by his side for forty years-- and then he was bending down, was the sword too heavy?-- no, Gladio realized abruptly, Cor was bending down to grab a familiar silver thing.

"This is his mask, ain't it? Goddamn..." Cor looked very small at the end of that immense bridge. "You beat me to it, huh."

"...I don't think he can die," Gladio said, uneasily. "He's probably hiding somewhere." He resisted the urge to spit and say 'like cowardly fucker', and instead adjusted his hold on Kotetsu, its smaller size unfamiliar to his hands.

"Maybe," Cor said, but he didn't sound convinced. "Shit...if only I'd been a little faster, I could've gotten him first." He looked down at the mask like it had impaled him, like it had skewed him straight through and had watched him drown in his own blood.

Gladio knew that look, because that's the same look Cor had had, as he'd died in Gladio's arms.

Gladio felt the unreality of the situation finally descending upon him. "Hey, kid," he said, low and slow. "What's the last thing you remember?"

"I was running away from this," Cor said quietly, down at the mask in his hands. Then he squinted up at Gladio. "Sure don't remember you, though. Sir. Did you come down for me 'cause Clarus said somethin'?" His lower lip stiffened, and there was an unmistakable wet sheen to his eyes. "I had it handled, sir."

Gladio's heart was hurting something awful. This wasn't the Marshal he remembered. That inimitable man-- the Cor Leonis that had indulged Gladio's love of fairytales, who had kissed his brow goodnight, who had taught him how to fight, whose last words to him had been 'Y'know, Gladio, I think I've finally earned myself a goddamn vacation'-- that immense, amazing, larger than life man was dead.

So, what was this mockery before him? The soul Gilgamesh had defeated and claimed, forty some years ago, now returned to its old body?

"I know it was disrespectful, sir--" Cor said, stiffly, misinterpreting Gladio's expression. "I know this Trial is only for Shields of the Amiticia line, but-- I can do it, sir, I was doing just fine--"

"All of this is a farce," Gladio said, hollowly.

"No, I can prove myself worthy!" Cor said loudly, desperately, and Gladio was reminded of himself, thinking that being a worthwhile Shield to his King was all he'd ever wanted or would ever want, that fighting some big tough guy could grant him that and more. "I can do it--! I'll try again, I'll beat him, I'll prove it--"

Gladio felt something heavy press against his chest. If this was Gilgamesh's last fuck you to his descendants, or, worse, if it was his idea of a fucking consolation prize--

"Let me try again," Cor said, firmly, holding the mask out like Gladio could summon the Blademaster with it. "I'll show you, sir. I'll show you I can do it."

Gladio's frustration was hardly this kid's fault. Well, it was only Cor's fault insomuch as he'd jaunted on down here as a brat, gotten his ass kicked and his soul snatched, then come back down for seconds when he was too old to care if he lived or died. But it wasn't this kid's fault, anymore than it was Noct's fault he'd gotten saddled with a prophecy that wanted him dead and he'd chosen to fight it for as long as he could, before finally succumbing to it, back straight and head held high.

Gladio had hopefully outgrown his knee jerk reaction of yelling at dumb kids for making dumbass decisions, and he liked to think he'd soon ease into the calm melancholy of a man used to outliving those he loved. Like Cor himself had. The Cor of his memories, now forever laid to rest.

And yet Cor-the-kid was still staring up at him, refusing to cry, looking as stiff and proud and fierce as ever, waiting for him--for Gladio, of all people-- to denounce him.

So he chose not to.

"You did do it," Gladio said, gently. "Cor, you completed the trial, and then some. You are more than worthy to be a King's Shield, or Sword, or soldier--whatever you wanna be."

"What I want is a rematch," Cor insisted, looking more and more like he was gonna fight Gladio for it.

"Maybe later," Gladio said. Maybe never, he thought. Gods. He didn't know if Cor could even leave Taelpar Craig, or if his body would collapse like the walking corpse it should be, without Gilgamesh's magic holding it together.

"Sir," Cor said, edging on the line of begging. "I can't go back empty handed like this. I'd rather die than live with the shame of it."

"Take the mask, then," Gladio said, with an exhausted finality in his voice. "It's there because you defeated him, in your own way."

"...you ain't gonna piss on it? Sir?" Cor said, suspiciously, holding it close like he was protecting it.

If you die as we leave this place, I sure fucking will, Gladio thought, but said aloud, "I'd gotta drink some water, first. You thirsty?"

"What the fuck, sir," Cor said as respectfully as he could, which, at this time, was not much.

"I'm joking," Gladio said, though he really wasn't. "I'm not about making some instant ramen, though. After a meal--" Cor's last, perhaps, "--then I'm leaving here, for good. You comin', or you stayin'? Your choice, Leonis."

He'd come down here for Cor's body, but if Cor truly wanted to stay here, forever fighting a disgraced demigod whose hobby was making undying warriors out of decent men-- if that was truly his idea of a good afterlife, then, hell, Gladio wasn't going to force him. He respected Cor that much, even if this wannabe Valhalla was, in his personal opinion, as disrespectful as it could get.

Cor's rumbling stomach interrupted his thoughts. The kid turned a little red, and it broke the spell of Gladio's melancholy some, to see that. "Hungry, huh?"

"I could eat," Cor admitted, with a stiff little shrug. "What kinda flavour y'got, sir?"

Even though it was far more difficult to travel light enough to fight on the go without the magic of the Armiger, Gladio still made sure to carry at least one of his favourite meals with him in a backpack. For this journey, he'd packed exactly two Cup Noodles: one for him, and one for Cor's memory. He'd left it at the fireplace just outside this final room, alongside the waterproof tarp he'd brought to put Cor's body in-- though now, Gods willing and Gilgamesh be damned, Cor might just walk out on his own.

"Beef," Gladio said, and was gratified by Cor perking up, as he hoped he would. "You okay with that?"

"Yes, sir," Cor said, and quietly admitted, "It's, um. That's my favourite."

"Well, ain't that something," Gladio said, instead of saying, I know. "You comin', then?"

"Yes, sir," Cor said, and even if this was Gilgamesh's last laugh, or his last apology, then Gladio would take it, because Cor was worth it, Cor had earned it.

#karaii fic #ff15 #cor leonis #gilcor #another one for goretober! sorta #gladio goes down taelpar craig to reclaim cor's body from the blademaster #i was planning something different but halfway through it got away from me #i like this idea tho... maybe i'll make an AU of it

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queenxxxsupreme · 4 years

Note

If you're still looking for fluff and softness, might I request something for Regis? Maybe some potion making/cooking together? Just gimme that vampire sugar lmao

A/N: This is exactly the kind of thing I needed babe. I’m soft. This has no plot but it is fluffy! I hope that’s okay <3

***

Outside, a thin layer of white snow dusted the ground.

Regis was standing at the table, eyes flickering over a page in a book. He was making some sort of elixir for a bad cough. Someone in the village had come down with a sickness and he immediately offered to help.

Perched on his shoulder was Calder, a black raven. He let out a scratchy caw and flew down from Regis’s shoulder to rest on the floor in front of you.

You were laying on your stomach a few feet away from him, sketching on a piece of parchment.

“Hello, love.” You smiled at Calder, reaching out to gently pet his head. He flapped his wings and started to move closer to you. But the three baby crows Regis rescued came running towards you, squawking loudly. Calder, irritated with his younger siblings, flapped his wings and went back to Regis. The crows settled with climbing along your arms and onto your back.

You looked up from your drawing to inspect Regis.

A soft smile pulled at the corners of his lips as his eyes flickered up to meet yours.

“What are you staring at, dear?”

“Just want to make sure I get your cheeks right.”

He leaned forward over the table, trying to sneak a peek at what you were doing but you quickly covered the parchment with the big sleeves to the long sleeve you wore.

“You’re cheating!”

“Cheating?” Regis chuckled, resting back on his heels. His eyes fell back to his book but that amused grin still stayed there.

“Yes, cheating! This is a surprise.” You told him.

“How is it a surprise if I know you are drawing me?”

You scowled.

“Oh, darling. Don’t give me that look.” He tilted his head to the side a little, eyes watching you. “I was only asking.”

“You don’t know how I’ll draw it.” You pointed out. “Quit looking!”

He shook his head, grinning as he looked at his book.

The three baby crows left you, choosing instead to chase your housecat, Marlow.

“I could use an extra hand or two.” He hummed, not daring to look away from his book this time in fear of catching a glance at your artwork. If you wanted it to be a surprise, he wouldn’t ruin it, no matter how badly he wanted to look.

“Okay.” You finished shading in the area beneath one of his eyes and then moved the parchment to the end of the table that Regis wasn’t working on. You made sure it was turned over so that he wouldn’t see the drawing.

You moved around to peer over Regis’s shoulder, though it was more like you were peeking around than over. He was much taller than you.

“What are you making?”

“I am trying something out for Master Baxter. He has a nasty cough. I could hear the congestion in his chest this morning. It sounded awful.”

Your eyes looked to the book he was reading out of. Your brows drew together.

“This isn’t in Common Speech.” You moved to stand beside him, turning the page to see if there was a translation that you understood.

“It’s an ancient dialect long forgotten.” Regis looked over to you. “My parents would speak it to each other. My mother taught me some of it. Later on in life, I taught myself.”

“How sweet.” You brought your hand up to his shoulder. “But how am I supposed to know what this recipe calls for when I can’t read it?”

“You allow me to translate it for you.” He leaned down to kiss your forehead. “And perhaps I can teach you if you’d like.”

You looked up at him, something in your chest fluttering. The thought of Regis teaching you a language from his childhood made your insides warm.

You nodded your head, smiling as you dropped your gaze to the book once more.

“Is that a yes? You’d like me to teach you?” He hooked his finger underneath your chin and tilted your head up.

“Yes.” You leaned forward to kiss him softly. “But perhaps teaching me while you are also doing alchemy isn’t a great idea. What if I mess something up?”

“I wouldn’t let you do anything that would harm Master Baxter.” Regis shook his head, his hand moving around to hold the back of your head. Gently, he pulled your head forward and he leaned down to kiss your forehead. “I love you.”

“I love you.” Your eyes fluttered shut and you leaned into him.

Regis pulled away as Marlow jumped up onto the table, successfully escaping the three baby crows.

“Marlow!” You picked him up. He seeked refuge on your shoulders, meowing loudly as he looked down at the crows. “We don’t want you messing up…. whatever it is Regis is working on.”

The vampire chuckled, turning back to read a passage in the book.

You placed Marlow in a chair in the main room before returning to Regis. He was stirring a dark liquid in a glass.

You wrapped your arms around him from behind, resting your head between his shoulder blades.

“Instead of working on this, why don’t we go to bed?” You suggested. “It’s getting awfully late.”

“The sun went down just a little while ago.” Regis said. “And I’m almost done with this. But if you helped me, perhaps it would be done sooner.”

You sighed, feigning disappointment, and moved around him to lean against the table.

“What do you want me to do?”

“Hand me the elderflowers sitting at the end of the table, please.” He nodded in the direction of the ingredient he needed.

“What will this do?” You asked, moving around the table to get what he needed.

“It will make Master Baxter sweat. Sweating will help cool him down, and rid him of his fever.” Regis took the plant from you but not before pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Thank you, my love.”

You smiled.

As he crushed the flower with a mortar and pestle, you curiously looked around the table.

“What’s this?” You asked, picking up a jar with a mysterious thick liquid. “Is it honey?”

“Precisely! It’s used to soothe a sore throat. The lemon slice in there is for helping with congestion. It’s for Master Baxter’s wife to make tea with. There’s a few extra ingredients in there as well to help with his discomfort.”

You put the jar down and moved on to the next item. It was a ginger root.

“What does this do?” You asked, holding the root up.

“It can relieve nausea or any pain Master Baxter may be experiencing. It’s ginger root.”

“I know what it is.” You stuck your tongue out at him playfully. He smiled, looking back down at the vial in his hand.

“Would you mind cutting a piece off for me, love? I need to grind it up to put into this.” He tapped the vial with his index finger.

“Can I grind it up?” You reached across the table for the knife.

“If you’d like.” Regis nodded.

You cut off a slice of the ginger root. He passed you the mortar and pestle, then watched you grind it up.

You could feel his eyes on you and for some reason, it made you nervous. You looked up at him through your lashes.

“Why are you watching me?”

“I find it hard to look away when there’s such a beautiful being in front of me.”

“You’re such a charmer.” You grinned a little, though your cheeks flushed.

“I am just simply stating the truth.”

Once you finished grinding the plant, you passed the mortar to Regis.

“Excellent job, dear.” He praised, scraping the ground up ginger out of the bowl with a spoon.

As he put a few things into the vial, you moved to stand next to him. Your arm slipped around his lean waist, squeezing his hip.

“Darling, don’t be a distraction.” He winked at you, just teasing.

“I can’t help it.” You leaned against him a little more than you really needed to, but the vampire was sturdy and strong. He was capable of supporting you as you leaned in to his side. “I just really wanna lay down and cuddle with you.”

“How about we make a deal?” He turned to face you. “How much more of that drawing do you have to do?”

“Just some finishing touches.” You shrugged your shoulders, gazing up at him.

“When you finish the drawing, I’ll come to bed with you.”

You pouted.

“Regis! That’s not fair! What if it takes me forever to finish?”

“Then I fear I will have to wait forever to lay next to you again, my dear.” He turned back to his work, his tone gentle and playful.

You huffed and moved to pick up the parchment you were drawing on.

“Fine.”

You returned to the floor, eager to get the drawing finished.

***

You jolted awake, eyes opening to find Regis kneeling down in front of you.

“You fell asleep, darling.” He brushed his fingers over your hair. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay. It seemed sudden. One second, you were focused on the drawing and the next, you were out cold.”

You lifted your head up, rubbing your eyes and yawning. You didn’t remember being so tired that you would pass out.

Suddenly, you remembered the drawing.

“Regis! The picture!”

“Don’t worry, my dear.” He spoke calmly, his voice soothing. “I didn’t look at it, but I did pick it up. I didn’t want the crows to mess it up.”

You sighed in relief, rolling over on to your back.

“Are you ready to go to bed?” Regis asked. You nodded and lifted your arms up, wanting him to carry you to bed.

He scooped you up in his arms and effortlessly stood up.

“I love you, my dear.” He reminded you, pressing a warm kiss to your forehead.

“Love you more.” You sleepily tucked your nose into the front of his neck.

“Oh, I don’t think that’s possible.” He pushed the door to the bedroom open with his shoulder. “I love you more than anything in this world, more than anyone could love another being.”

“Lies.” Your words were muffled against his warm skin. “I love you more than that.”

“Oh? Is that so?”

“Mhm.”

You were placed carefully down on the bed. Regis started to move away but you grabbed his arm, keeping him close to your bedside.

“No, Regis. Stay.” You frowned, giving him your best puppy eyes.

“I just have to put a little more wood on the fire.” He nodded to the hearth at the foot of the bed. “I will be right back. I promise.”

You nodded and let him go. While he was tending to the fire, you pulled the blankets over you and settled in.

A few moments later, Regis was joining you.

He slipped into the bed next to you. Once you were sure he was comfortable, you scooted closer to him, curling yourself up against his side. Your head rested on his shoulder. His arm snaked around you, holding you close to him.

“Good night, my dear.” He pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

“Good night, Regis.”

Taglist: @pressedinthepages @mishafaye @whitewolfandthefox @wolfyland07 @belalugosisdead @persephonehemingway @keira-hulmaster @dinonuggs69 @greatestauthorofmygeneration shadow-hunters-love @dancingwith-thesunflowers @tedi-fach-las @thecomfortofoldstorries @raspberrydreamclouds @natkowaa @disasteren @weathervanes-my-oneandlonely @onlyhenrys @wackylurker @criminaly-supernatural @magpie343 @permanently-exhausted-witcher @hina-chans-stuff @the-space-between-heartbeats @havenoffandoms @carriebee1 @ger-bearofrivia @naominami @writingawaymylife @reaganjenelle @theawkwardpedestrian @scarlettwitcher @badassspaceprincess @just-a-sad-donut @summersong69 @an--actual--human--disaster @rubyqueen819 @omgkatinka @c-a-v-a-l-r-y @vonxcon @mazakeen @bravelittlesunflower @thereagles @awkward-turtles-world

If your name is in italics, it wouldn’t let me tag you :(

If you’d like to be on any of my taglists, please go here!

#regis x reader #regis the witcher #regis #regis fluff #regis fic #Emiel Regis Rohellec Terzieff-Godefroy #kacey answers #anon #anon request

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penmankendallinterlude · 3 years

Text

Extensive Press Release

from the pen of Mat Smith:

PAUL KENDALL

Boundary Macro

Boundary Macro is the fifth solo album from producer, engineer and electronic musician Paul Kendall.

Beginning with his tenure in anarchic London post-punk unit Dry Rib and on through his respected studio work with Recoil, Wire, Barry Adamson, Nine Inch Nails and many others, Kendall has always maintained an acute focus on the intricate properties of sound. Each of his solo albums has showcased an approach to complex sound design as well as the darker, emotive side of sonic processing. His pre-lockdown live sets with Daniel Dickel as LeCabLe were noisy, highly sculpted improvisations that drew a connective line to his work on the grimy fringes of industrial music.

The impetus for Boundary Macro came through a remix completed for Downwards, the label run by Karl O’Connor (aka Regis). O’Connor was familiar with Kendall’s tenure as an in-house producer, engineer and mixer for Mute Records in the 1980s and 1990s, and sought him out for the remix of Veronica Vasicka’s ‘From Here’ in 2018. “He liked the remix I did for him and I remember him saying to send him some of my stuff if I so wished,” recalls Kendall. “I sent him the ten tracks that make up Boundary Macro. He came flying back to me having fallen in love with a couple of pieces and offered to put the album out on Downwards. It really was a seductive enthusiasm and I readily agreed.”

Boundary Macro was recorded after the COVID-19 pandemic had first emerged and our daily lives were suddenly put on hold. “I experienced a sort of creative paralysis from the start of March until the end of April due to early lockdown and an endless concern about food supplies,” Kendall reflects. “Around May I started to experiment sound processing apps on my iPad – apps like Borderlands Granular, Tardigrain and Enso. I was astonished at the relative affordability of these apps in comparison to studio multi-effects units or computer plug-ins.”

Having identified the tools to unlock his lockdown-inflicted writer's block, Kendall began experimenting with recordings of his own voice and the Leaf Audio Soundbox instrument, capturing hours of improvised performances which were then microscopically edited, superimposed and processed to form eight of the tracks on the album. The album was completed by the addition of two older pieces created using completely different methods (‘Distor ADIO’ and ‘Are You In?’), but which were entirely in keeping with Kendall’s May 2020 experiments.

It’s easy to see why O’Connor fell for these tracks. These pieces each have a latent energy, like industrial techno with all the familiar references points suppressed under heavy distortion, blocks of noise and an oppressive, cloying blanket of impenetrable tension; music devoid of any discernible certainty, made at a time when life’s certainties had become abruptly upended. The name of the thunderous, vaguely orchestral opening track – ‘Restless’ – encapsulates the mood of this album: sounds and ideas arrive, hang around, evolve, mutate and are then immediately replaced.

On ‘The Chattering, Class’, we hear Kendall’s distinctive attention to atomised detail, with an ever-changing array of fluttering, backward sounds and brittle textures, while a subtle hint of an exotica melody feels like lonely wind chimes in an abandoned landscape. On ‘InHarmonic’ we experience a characteristic disquiet, built from a dense and unswerving drone and pulsing signals offset by minimalistic, shamanistic percussion patterns. On ‘ReBurst’ rumbling, ghostly processed voices jab at you viciously, like a pissed-off demon roused from its sleep, its relentless onslaught buffeting you like a wild storm; in its wake comes a distorted, sinewy sequence, as insistent, angular and thrilling as a prowling heavy metal solo.

The concept for Boundary Macro unifies an approach that Kendall takes to both images and sound. “I absolutely love macro photography,” he explains. “Macro photography is where you magnify the minutiae of an object. It's a similar method that I’ve used a lot in sound design, where I take found sounds then exploit and zoom in on them.”

If ‘macro’ is the descriptor for Kendall’s process, then ‘boundary’ is about revealing another personal side of himself – his hearing difficulties, a condition caused by too many loud studio sessions. “A boundary can be thought of as being like binary, with its two states – on and off. With this album, the boundary in question is the one between my ability to hear and not hear. Because of that deafness, I sometimes have to rely on graphical representations of sound to ensure there’s not something happening sound-wise which I am unable to hear. It’s also about the supposed boundary between sound and noise, which, for me, does not exist. It’s also the idea of the boundary as a limit – but a limit to go beyond, not one that stops you. Suffering with loss of hearing could have easily acted as a limit for me. Boundary Macro is the sound of me going beyond that limit.”

Boundary Macro by Paul Kendall is released on vinyl and digital on Downwards Records, 29 July 2021 through Boomkat: https://boomkat.com/products/boundary-macro

Track list:

Restless

The Chattering, Class

Nowhere, A Twisty

Missing The Fierce

Contrail

InHarmonic

Distor ADIO

ReBurst

No Door

Are You In?

Paul Kendall solo discography

The Faulty Caress (as Piquet) (Parallel Series / Mute, 1996)

Angleterror (Cat Werk Imprint, 2011)

Family Value Pack (Ant-Zen, 2014)

Mechanical Generation (Vol. 1) (self-released 2017)

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archonssun · 4 years

Text

Bros Watching their S/O Draw

Bros Watching Their S/O Draw

Fair warning, this is gonna have a lot of character building in it.

WC: 2455

Noctis

You’ve known the crown prince since you two were children. You were living in Tenebrae with Lady Sylva, and when the Empire took over you were sent back to Insomnia with King Regis and the prince.

Before your home had been occupied by Imperial forces, you were a bright child, always laughing. Your partner-in-crime was more often than not Ravus, and you two caused loads of trouble.

But as soon as Noctis arrived in Tenebrae, you grew shy. You weren’t used to having royalty from other nations watching you. Even after the prince had been at the manor for months, you never outgrow your shy nature. And when you were brought back to Insomnia at the behest of Lady Sylva, that’s when you really started curling in on yourself.

You had gotten somewhat used to Noctis’s stares, but the stares of the servants, Ignis, and Gladio were too much. A lot of the time, you could feel pity in the gazes of those around you, and that hurt; being seen as a refugee instead of who you actually were.

Fast-forward about seven years, and you and Noctis are in high school. You two were walking around when a blond came up to your prince, introducing himself as Prompto Argentum. The name made you nostalgic for your home, as you had remembered that there was a family called Argentum that had worked at the manor.

But as soon as the blond turned to you, you were cowering behind the prince. You still hadn’t gotten over your shy disposition, and high school just made it worse. You two eventually became friends, but only after about a year.

Now, you were tagging along on Noctis’s journey to Altissia, buzzing with excitement to see Luna again. Like Noctis, you had kept in contact with the young Oracle, except through Pryna instead of Umbra. Whenever she would send you a message, your day was infinitely better, and you came out of your shell somewhat. And every message you sent back to her was accompanied by a drawing.

The drawings always differed; one time you had drawn Pryna, another time was Noctis and Prompto. Drawing was something you had taken up soon after Tenebrae had fallen, and was something you did well in in school. And Noctis knew; there was very little about you he didn’t know, especially since you two had been dating for the past three years.

It really didn’t surprise him when one night at camp you pulled out your sketchbook. And he would just watch, mesmerised by the way your pencil seemed to glide effortlessly over the paper (it is NOT easy, trust me, I know)

He didn’t respond when Prompto tried to goad him into playing a round of King’s Knight, he was so focused on you. The way the tip of your tongue stuck out, how your brow wrinkled with concentration. It made his lips turn upwards in a smile, watching you work. A part of him wanted to get closer and see what you were creating, but he knew he’d be smacked.

After all, you didn’t like people watching you when you drew.

During the World of Ruin, you changed. You still drew, but instead of for pleasure, you drew the images for scientific studies conducted by Sania.

Prompto

This boy…

Look, he gets it. Really, he does. Being an amature photographer himself has led to him appreciating your artistic abilities more than most, cuz he knows that it’s not as easy as it looks.

You’ve known Prompto since you were both nineteen. You were working at a coffee shop in a quiet part of Insomnia when he had walked in, dripping from the rain. The morning rush had just ended. At the time, you had been so engrossed in your current drawing that you didn’t notice him walk up to the counter until he cleared his throat.

Fuck, it scared you so bad that your sketchbook was thrown at the poor blond, hitting him square between the eyes. You were horrified when he started tipping backward, but stopped when his hand grabbed the counter. Thank the gods there was no one in the shop.

“Oh my Gods! I’m so sorry!”

“D-Don’t worry ‘bout it.”

“But you could’ve been seriously hurt!”

After that, you basically had to beg him to let you make it up to him, offering some coffee on the house. That’s when you got his name, when he told you his order. And it was when you handed him his coffee that he asked you out.

Yes, he was a stumbling mess while asking.

You two met up later that week and went on a date to a park. A bit cliche, yes, but you didn’t expect him to bring a camera with him.

The entire date was spent with you watching him take pictures and answering questions he had, and him watching you draw.

At first, him watching you made you nervous. But he never said anything as he watched you, and you got used to it. Hell, you didn’t realise he had gotten so close until you were finished and looked up. You almost threw your sketchbook at him again with how startled you were, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t appreciate the view.

With how close he was, you could see all the freckles on his cheeks and nose, you could see just how deep of a blue his eyes were. His lips were chapped, you noticed, and were curled up in a bashful smile. That was the first time he had kissed you, when he was seconds away from getting a book to the face.

In the World of Ruin, you and Prompto became inseparable. And while he had stopped taking photos as often as he used to, you never once gave up on drawing. You were often seen in Lestallum, drawing with the children of the refugees in hopes that they would be able to forget about the world around them. And Prompto was always there at your side, watching you with a smile.

Ignis

You were a Kingsglaive, but before that you had been the child of a now defunct noble family. You were closely related to Verstael Besithia; the mad man being a cousin of your parents. Your family had done some terrible things by the time you were born, and they had been exiled from their homeland of Niflheim.

Since your family had been helping Lucis, they were taken in as citizens of Insomnia by King Regis. And since your family had been known for their battle prowess, it had quickly become one of the major families that enlisted in the Crownsguard and Kingsglaive.

You were just the latest of your family to join the Kingsglaive and serve under King Regis. It was during your training that you met Ignis Scientia. It was your first day of training under the Kingsglaive, and there was a joint training between the Glaive and Crownsguard. Of course, the first thing you noticed as soon as you walked into the training area was the tall, burly man, who you later learned to be Gladiolus Amicitia. Then your eyes had shifted to the man beside him, the one with glasses.

Even though you couldn’t remember your homeland all that much, you could remember how Verstael had been a dangerous man, despite his slight stature, and you were immediately on guard around Ignis. Turns out your gut feeling was right, as you were pitted against the royal advisor later on during training.

“(L/n)! Scientia! Your turn!” Your captain hollered, making the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. You were slow to approach the mats, shrugging off your Kingsglaive coat and setting in gently to the floor. Not once did your (e/c) hues leave Ignis’s form.

As you stood before the man, you could feel the tension that surrounded him, and you were instantly reminded of the soldiers Verstael had created. The emotions that the feeling brought forth were almost enough to make you freeze, but it was the sound of something shattering that brought you back. It was just in the nick of time that you held your short sword high enough to block. Taking your bottom lip between your teeth, you pushed against the lanky male, forcing him to retreat slightly.

There were no words spoken, which only made the match feel like it went on that much longer. Time and again, you were barely able to defend against Ignis, and it was nearing the end of the match that he managed to catch your long (h/c) hair on his blade.

You flipped backwards, a small frown adorning your face as you pulled your now shorter hair over your shoulder. With a grunt of disapproval, you took your sword and raised it to your head, chopping what remained of your long hair into a short bob. When you looked back at your sparring partner, he was watching you with wide eyes. It was then that the match was ended, having been declared a tentative draw.

“Are you alright, (L/n)?” Ignis’s voice said from behind you as you grabbed your coat. Straightening and looking him in the eyes, you gave him a short nod.

“I am alright, Lord Scientia.”

Ignis hated when you would call him ‘lord’, but it had been drilled into you since you were a child, both back in Niflheim and in Insomnia. It was only after he begged you to stop calling him ‘lord’ that you did, albeit hesitantly. Your parents would skin you if they ever found out you weren’t giving respect where it was due.

N E ways, after that match, you found yourself running into the man more often, as you both worked directly under the royal family; him with the prince, and you with the king.

You would often meet up with him on your days off for some coffee, or even to help him with the prince as you and Noctis were the same age. You and the prince became fast friends, but you still didn’t talk all too much with him unless he was speaking directly to you.

Again, it was a habit.

The first time you met Prompto you almost killed him. He had reminded you so much of your insane cousin that you had thought Verstael had sent on of his clones to kill you and your family. But Noct had been quick to protect his friend, and when he had asked you what was wrong you had bolted, scared out of your mind. It was the first time you had felt fear like that since you were young, since you and your parents and your siblings were on the run from the Empire.

When Insomnia fell, you were with Cor and Iris by order of Regis. Your parents had expressed their concerns of the upcoming peace treaty signing and had asked that they would be able to protect him. Except you were excluded, being the youngest of their children. They at least wanted you to survive. And Regis understood that; I mean, he did almost the exact same thing with his son, and he agreed to keep you far from the action.

After the Fall, you spent most of your time traveling around with Cor, and met up with the prince and his retinue at Keycatrich. Unlike Cor, you had entered the dungeon with them and proved your worth as a former Kingsglaive. You had been nervous around Prompto, afraid you had hurt him all those years ago, and you were relieved when you found out he held no grudge against you.

“You’re not the first one close to Noct that’s tried to kill me. Gladio did it too! But I promise, I just wanted to be Noct’s friend!”

One night, at the haven near Cape Caem, you were able to relax. Since the fall, you had been tense beyond belief. Especially when Ardyn would show up. Whenever that happened, you were quick to disappear; you didn’t want him to recognize you.

As you relaxed, you remembered the small sketchbook you had stashed in your Kingsglaive jacket for when you were bored on duty. Taking it out, you flipped to the next open page, frowning when you realized you’d need to get a new one soon.

You had been so occupied with drawing that you hadn’t noticed Ignis watching over your shoulder until his hand rested on your shoulder.

“Dinner’s ready, love.”

You jumped in your chair, turning to the man with wide eyes.

“H-How long have you--”

“I don’t think you want to know, my dear.”

It was during the World of ruin that your eye for detail came in handy for something other than illustrating. Since Ignis had lost his sight, you had taken it upon yourself to describe everything to him. Even if it was pitch black outside, your eyes would pick up on the smallest of details and relay them to him, you two earning the moniker “The Eyes and Ears of The King”.

Gladio

Gladio had been your s/o for around three weeks before the Fall. Because of your connection to the Amicitia family (you were from an older family that was on the verge of going extinct before Clarus had offered you to marry his son), you had been one of the first out of the city, Iris in tow.

When he had met you two in Lestallum, all three of you were entangled in a bear hug with tears streaming down your face. Your family hadn’t made it out, meaning your line had officially died out with your father.

It was weeks later that you were back to normal, somewhat. You had become quieter and more temperamental -- not the best combination. But instead of taking your anger out on others, you would shut yourself in a room and start drawing. At the time of the Fall, you hadn’t drawn in years, but you didn’t seem to have forgotten anything; it was like relearning how to ride a bike for you.

You had music blasting as you were drawing, a small frown on your lips, when Gladio walked in. He leaned against the doorframe and just watched you. He hadn’t seen you focused like this before, and it kind of scared him; had you put that focus to something else, like monster hunting, he doubted anyone would be able to stop you. And you were his.

Later on, during the World of Ruin, rarely were the two of you seen without one another. And even more rare was it that you came home with injuries other than minor scrapes and cuts.

#Noctis Lucis Caelum #prompto argentum #ignis scientia #gladiolus amicitia #noctis lucis caelum x reader #prompto argentum x reader #ignis scientia x reader #gladiolus amicitia x reader #ffxv #request time

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sillylittlelouie · 4 years

Text

Teenagers are Perceptive

Something was wrong.

Shinwoo could feel it in his bones.

He could see it in Ikhan's dull eyes on their way here, Suyi's tight smile, and Yuna's tight shoulders - they could feel it too.

He glanced at Regis. At the way he was holding himself just a little bit more stiffly than what Shinwoo was beginning to recognize as his norm.

Running a finger underneath his nose, he glanced around the room as much as he could, what with his neck brace keeping his head mostly in one place.

Why hadn't he just pulled Ikhan out of the way of the car instead of throwing himself at it?

If he'd done that, then they would have gotten to...they would have been able to...

Shinwoo narrowed his eyes as he focused on the memory.

It was hazy, but so were the memories from last week's P.E session, when he'd gotten hit by that football. This haze though...

"Where were we going when I got hit by that car?"

Regis and Takeo-hyung, the man that he and Yuna had rescued from that mugging, went still. Completely. Like they'd been turned to stone.

A hand crossed his line of sight, and Shinwoo found his head being turned tso that he stared into Yuna's brown eyes. One of her soft hands moved to rest on his forehead as she drew her lower lip between her teeth.

"I didn't think that you'd hit your head that hard," Suyi worried, the sound of her voice getting closer. But it wasn't as smooth as it usually was. "We were coming here, of course!"

"But then we got that call from the Chairman, that he had to rush out, and that we should go home, instead of here," Yuna continued, and Shinwoo realised just why the haze felt so wrong.

Just why everything felt so...off.

He leapt to his feet, tearing himself away from Yuna, and ignoring the stab of pain in the back of his neck that accompanied the movement. "Milan! Did he get any better!?"

Regis looked at him strangely. Then, in a measured tone, almost as if he thought that Shinwoo would break down at the wrong answer, he murmured, "Milan is rather...ill at the moment."

Shinwoo snorted. 'Ill' was putting it mildly. "They don't hook you up to machines just because you're 'ill', Regis," he snapped, cringing at the sound of his own words. "I'm sorry. That came out wrong. I'm just worried about the little guy, and I-"

Suyi placed a hand on his shoulder. "Shinwoo."

He glanced at her, turning away from the memory of the tiny body lying on the too large, too white bed, buried under wires and tubes.

"What are you talking about? The Chairman said that the doctors let him come home with Milan the same night."

No, that was wrong. They'd stood at the boy's bedside. Shinwoo had held his hand. He'd comforted Yuna as they were getting ready to leave.

"Suyi," he pressed, shrugging her hand off as he looked at her whole face, "we saw him on the bed, remember?"

He could still see the worried look on the Chairman's face as he took the seat that Shinwoo had vacated when they were leaving the room.

That kind of concern, along with the feel of the cold hand in his weren't things that could be imagined. But...

He glanced at hyung, then at his friends. Those looks of concern certainly weren't the product of his imagination either.

"You were there too, Takeo-hyung! Y-you were in the next bed...right beside Milan, and you..."

Shinwoo's eyes went back to Takeo-hyung's face. None of the bruises that had been there two days ago were visible. The deep gash, the one that went from temple to ear, wasn't there either.

Those kinds of injuries didnt heal in two days.

Shinwoo took a step backwards, allowing himself to collapse onto the couch.

"I wasn't even taken to the same hospital, was I?"

The hyung was the one to answer him this time, voice hard in the way that adults usually sounded when they were telling you the truth. "You weren't treated at the same place, young stud."

Shinwoo didn't say anything to that. Neither did Regis or the others.

Takeo-hyung took a deep breath. "I'm going to kill my tea...cousin," he said, totally calm.

They could hear Milan coughing, even from the living room.

It was a harsh, hacking sound, that ended in wheezing and breathless sobs, whenever they began.

It was the sort of cough you'd hear from the civilians who'd gotten caught up in explosions, in movies and those kinds of things.

It was the kind she would hear from some of the sicker patients, whenever she had to take something to her mother at work. Or from smokers on the streets.

Children shouldn't sound like that.

Yuna shuddered as the coughing came to a crescendo. The coughs punctuated the air with less time between each, before trailing off into wetness.

Across from her, Shinwoo and Ikhan were rubbing their chests, grimacing.

"Are you sure we can't help the Chairman out?" Suyi blurted suddenly, startling Yuna. "I mean, I had the flu two weeks ago, so I can help him take care of Milan while I'm here!"

"I had it too," Yuna recalled. Where was Suyi going with this? "I caught it from Ikhan!"

"After Shinwoo gave it to me!"

"Traitor!"

"So we won't get sick if we have to pitch in!" Suyi spread her arms out in front of her, smiling with her prettiest stage smile, and Yuna finally got where she was coming from.

She looked over at the oppas, trying to conjure up her most convincing puppy-dog eyes.

Tao-oppa barely glanced at her before he answered. "I don't see why-"

"Absolutely not," the Chairman put his foot down with a yawn, emerging from the hallway that led deeper into the house.

He looked terrible, with those bags under his eyes. Eyes that were focused on them.

Yuna could see her friends wilting, shrinking underneath his tired, stern gaze.

She looked away.

"The flu isn't like chickenpox," Mr. Chairman continued, his voice getting closer. "There are different strains of it that go around in a single season."

His voice had lost its harshness, like he'd already gotten over his own bout with the flu. But he still seemed so worn out...

"But Mr. Le-"

"I can't risk your health like that, Shinwoo. I'd rather be sick and tired than allow the same fate to befall anyone under my care."

Yuna didn't dare look up. They were just beginning to see more of the Chairman since he and Milan had fallen ill.

She didn't think that it was because he preferred it that way.

"But we miss the little guy," Ikhan murmured.

Mr. Chairman's voice was gentler, as he took a step towards them. "Milan will be better before you know it." His footsteps continued into the kitchen. "Now! I haven't had the chance to show Tao and Takeo around the city. Would any of you like to assist me with that?"

One of the oppas inhaled sharply and, when Yuna glanced at them, they were both staring at Mr. Chairman's back. The stony look on Takeo-oppa's face seemed...unnerving.

Especially after seeing his warm, friendly smile in the aftermath of a mugging, of all things. "That's not necessary," he clipped.

The Chairman had turned around to face them, when Yuna looked over at him. His smile was tired, but kind as ever. "It would help me out greatly, if I didn't have to worry about you getting lost in an unfamiliar territory."

It would?

Yuna glanced over at the others, her grin already spreading across her face.

"You can count on us, Chairman!"

#noblesse #tao #takeo #Shinwoo and co.#Part of Children Talk

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itsclydebitches · 4 years

Note

For the prompt; maybe something like Regis reassuring Geralt of his humanity after some asshat human is "witcher-phobic" towards Geralt?

First prompt complete! I’m sorry that you get the initial “How does writing work again??” offering, anon lol

Varying Words

Pairing: None, unless you want to read it as Regis/Geralt ;)

Warnings: One passing mention of rape

Word Count: 1,504

***

Stand your ground.

Geralt did, allowing the projectile to hit him square in the back of his head. The attacker's aim wasn't bad and based on the clang he heard as the object fell to the cobblestones, he had strength too. When a second assault didn't immediately follow he turned, expecting a blacksmith or maybe a dock hand.

It was a woman. Arms sculpted from labor in the fields and sporting an inch more than was common in Novigrad, she hefted another cooking pot, teeth bared.

Not bad, he thought. Put a knife in her hand and she'd be a formidable foe. Although... knives likely weren't far behind if that dishware was any indication. Geralt held his hands at the level of his hips, well away from his swords.

"Not here to cause any trouble, ma'am," he said.

She spit. Geralt watched the yellow wad strike the toe of his boot. "Fuck off! Your kind don't need to want trouble to cause it. Years I worked for that coin! Bastard witcher took it off me, then had the gall to go get his neck ripped open by a bunch a' nekkers. Can't even reach his corpse now and whose fault is that, huh? Not mine!” She inched a little closer, voice shaking. “What's the point of you anyway? Some experts. Some heroes. Come into my kitchen, Witcher. Let me introduce you to the light of our Eternal Fire by smashing you face-first into the oven. It would improve your mug I'll tell you that!"

He stood impassive as the speech progressed, feet rooted to the ground. It seemed the only thing that kept the woman from leaving the safety of her doorway was her husband's hand curled tight in her sleeve. Compared to her he was a slight thing and he flinched when Geralt met his eyes. His brothers would have scoffed at the fellow's weakness, but Geralt was grateful for whatever strength was keeping his wife at bay. There was no scenario in which Geralt wanted to defend himself from a woman lost in grief.

The morning had gone so well too.

What he did want was to make her understand that the man she'd hired had not been a witcher. No son of the Schools would ever accept coin before the job was complete, for just such a reason, and only one who was truly inept would fall to a nekker nest. It had likely been a fool who'd had dreams of bringing back trophies for a tidier sum. Either that, or a swindler who'd paid someone to come back with news of his supposed demise. Either way, a couple's life savings were gone, monsters still roamed, and his reputation had taken another lash it didn't need.

"Get out of here!" she screamed.

Rather than listening, Geralt turned back to the woman who'd been standing beside him when this all began. "You okay?" he asked. he extended his hand to help her up as he would for Yennefer, or Ciri, or Regis, Triss, Jaskier, ZoltanRocheLambertEskel —

She slapped it away, then made a show of cleaning that hand on her dress. "Don’t touch me.”

Like the first. Skirts still hiked up over her waist. Vomit down the front of her blouse, shrieking her head off... I did that. Not the men who’d raped her.

Me.

With a growl Geralt stepped around her and took a vicious satisfaction when they all scuttled back. Within seconds he had the street to himself. The only thing that bothered to followed him was a final insult, shouted once they thought he was too far to do anything about it.

"You're the monster, freak!"

Geralt rolled his eyes at the heavens, Eternal Fire included. "Real innovative. Never heard that one before."

Novigrad was the city of sin though. Each person had a secret and every alleyway its shadows. Within seconds Geralt had crossed into a crowd that didn't care about the shouts from a few feet over. Why would they? They had their own lives to live and provided no one got in their way, everyone was free to do exactly as they pleased. It was comforting in its way and by the time Geralt reached The Kingfisher he'd lost a bit of the tension in his shoulders.

Head still smarted though. He'd reached up to massage his skull when cold hands batted his away.

"You're late," Regis admonished.

"Am not. An' I'm fine, leave it."

The tutting sounded right beside his ear. A moment later Geralt felt fingers press against a sizable bump with unerring accuracy. He hissed.

"Two lies in two seconds? Really, Geralt. If you'd like to slip one past me you'll have to do far better than that. Perhaps work first on eliminating that mulish expression?"

"Oh fuck off."

"Eloquent as always."

The banter did little for his mood. It took more than a well-aimed pot to fell a witcher, but that hardly meant he had to enjoy the experience. After a few seconds Regis' movements changed from a surgeon's clinical examination to a friend's, weaving fingers through silver strands merely for the comfort of it. They settled on the low wall outside the inn.

Geralt shook him off. Regis just hummed a low note in the back of his throat.

"Come now. Don't tell me you bought into that woman's nonsense?"

"You heard?"

"Indeed. My hearing is rather more acute than yours, though I confess I only caught the tip of the confrontation. I had assumed that you would leave post-haste as I did, more interested in our lunch than whatever swill she chose to spout. Was I wrong?"

Regis rarely was. Geralt leaned against the wall of the inn and let his gaze slide over the vampire. An aging face, gray in his hair, brown eyes and a welcoming smiling—provided he kept his lips closed. The irony was that Regis more easily passed for human than Geralt did.

"Sure you still want to dine with a monster?" he asked. The look he received could have melted a glacier.

"Tell me, Geralt. Why is it that I can repeat the same truths to you for years on end and they apparently fail to pierce your astoundingly stubborn nature, yet a few unfounded remarks from a stranger will sit with you for days?"

"Don't know. Maybe I respond better to crude truths. Less scholar, more drunkard."

"Oh? Shall I simplify my language then? Perhaps laden my points with the occasional expletive?"

"Couldn't hurt."

"Very well then: Geralt of Rivia you are not a fucking monster."

Geralt threw his head back and laughed, a short but boisterous exhale that drew looks from the passerby. Regis reached over to pat his knee.

"Had I known that getting you to listen merely required that I change my speech patterns I would have done so long ago."

"Now who's lying?"

Behind them the inn was blaring despite the early hour and Novigrad buzzed with thousands of voices, all clamoring to be heard. Geralt tried to focus on a noise other than the ringing in his ears, swallow the sour taste in his mouth so it didn't ruin their meal. He worked to remember the laugh just seconds after he’d given it.

"Besides," Regis continued. "You needn't take my word for it."

"Oh?"

"Your own actions defy those fools' claims. Or did I not see you deliberately allow yourself to get hit rather than risking that woman's pretty features?"

Never let it be said that Regis wasn't often right and observant. The two probably went hand-in-hand. Yes, he could have dodged the pan, but that likely would have resulted in a bloodied nose for the woman behind him, gaping at all the drama. The same one who'd fallen when the blow had teetered Geralt too close, shying from his touch again with the slap of a hand. He understood the point, of course. What monster took a blow for another? Weren't they the real monsters here, driven by indiscriminate hatred? It was a debate he and Regis had engaged in numerous times before, often during lunches just like the one they had planned for today. The one they'd begin if Geralt ever stopped moping about it all.

He could have said any of this, a coded thank you for his friend's wisdom.

Or...

"You think she's pretty?"

"Geralt."

"No, no, I'm happy for you. You should really get out more. How many years since the Queen of the Night? Two hundred?"

"Geralt."

"I didn't catch her name, but I'm sure I'd recognize that look of disgust. We could probably find her, if you're really going to abandon me, that is."

Regis slipped his arm through Geralt's, easy as you please. "As if I ever would."

"No?"

"No. I fear you're stuck with me and I do not care what anyone else might have to say about that. If we are monsters than at least we shall be monsters together."

Well, who was he to argue with that? For that matter, who were those women?

Geralt let Regis pull him to his feet. “Lunch with a monster sounds great.”

#witcher #Regis #witcher fic #rape tw #Anonymous

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secret-engima · 4 years

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Someone please come up with a Time Travel Fix it, preferably for FFXV, with the title of Trigeminal. It means "three twins." Am I thinking of three KG coming back? Yes. Am I thinking Lib, Crowe, and Nyx? Maybe, that would be fun. Might make more sense for it be three of the KG that made it to the Dawn though. In other news, fun times with anatomy homework!

Ohhhh.

oooooOOOOOOHHHH This.

This is a good idea.

*picks up Plunny* yes. Yes pls.

Gonna go with three KG that made it to the Dawn because those guys have saved my tail a BUNCH and they need more love. (in this, Iphigenia is an OC who represents the Glaive you play in Comrades btw)

For the record, Luca is the dark skinned, brown haired NPC in the suit and Tabul is the dark skinned, black haired NPC wearing the Galahdian coat and with a cornrow ponytail. They are actual NPCs in the Comrades game and I like them.

...

Luca, Tabul, and Iphigenia do not expect to time-travel. Who does? They do not know why they were picked, or how it happened. All they know is that one moment they are staring at the rising sun, crying at finally, finally being out of the darkness, the next they are waking up, startled and afraid, in their respective beds well in the past. They panic, they stare out at sunlight they haven’t seen in ten years, at a thriving world that they know is in ruins. They wonder if this is a dream, or insanity, or if the Accursed has caught them in an illusion like he was rumored to be capable of.

They are not sure what to make of it. Their younger bodies, the sunlight, their relatives that are alive and well.

Luca and Tabul find each other within the week, they both live in Little Galahd, and they are both desperate to find another who Remembers. They put their heads together, and by week two decide ... it’s not a dream. This is REAL somehow.

Considering they were there when the six Astrals came down to judge them all for the crimes of a few of their number ... time-travel actually doesn’t seem totally impossible.

But they wonder who they are missing. If anyone else Remembers. But discreet poking around Little Galahd reveals no one, not that they can see anyway. They debate and plan and finally they decide to join the Kingsglaive again. If they are going to change anything, they need magic to do it.

And it’s a few weeks into basic training that they find their third member.

It’s easy to spot her, casually towering over the heads of most of the glaives at her looming six foot four inches of pure muscle, her face clear of the network of scars they had grown used to seeing over the last ten years (scars from the Betrayal, a ship crash she had barely survived). She’s a new recruit, signed up as soon as she stepped off the truck she’d hitchhiked to Insomnia on, her skin dark now only because of its nature, not from layers of dirt that never came off. Brown eyes spot them staring at her across the way and Luca whistles, short and shrill in a signal the Glaives had come up with to compensate for the lack of light with which to read hand signs in the field.

Iphigenia, for that is the only name they know her by, her old one abandoned after the Betrayal, smiles slightly and calmly saunters over to them. No one gets in her way, all the other recruits and even full glaives scatter to clear a path. Luca and Tabul aren’t surprised.

It would seem Iphigenia had not chosen to change her style in the slightest. Not even here in the past, years before the Betrayal was anything but a bad dream and not a terrible reality.

That would require forgiving herself as much as forgiving others, and they both know that isn’t going to happen anytime soon. If ever.

Iphigenia lowers herself to sit next to them, one hand absently flicking a few stray strands of newly dyed soft pink hair out of her face. As recruits, they can’t customize their uniforms yet, but they are allowed a few personal items, and the purple ribbon holding back most of her cherry blossom stands out.

Just like the slightly red, definitely new tattoo on her left arm, starting from her wrist and curling up to her bicep stands out. The vibrant green snake with its tongue of thorns, surrounded by pink roses, is as screamingly loud a message to their Galahdian senses as ever.

Pink, purple, green. Betrayal, Loyalty, Watchfulness.

It could mean several things. That she has been Betrayed by one to whom she was Loyal and will not be taken off guard again. That she Betrayed someone to whom she owed Loyalty and others should watch out lest she do the same. It could even mean she considers herself so Betrayed she will never give Loyalty again.

But there is a conspicuous lack of braid in her hair, as there has been for years, and while Luca can see some of the glaives already wondering if the tall, silent new recruit is a Mainlander who doesn’t know the color code, Luca knows the truth.

She is Galahdian. One who chose to sheer off her braid at the base and throw it at the Six’s feet. And the message behind her colors is not one but all three.

Iphigenia had never forgiven herself for falling for the traitorous talk. Sonitus, Tredd, Axis, and Luche had been fellow Glaives, people to whom she had been Loyal (particularly her cousin, her blood clan who she had trusted the judgement of above all others, and the mere thought made Tabul’s blood burn in rage for her), and they had betrayed her by tricking her into treason. But she had also chosen to follow them into treason, which meant she was the one who had Betrayed the man who held her Loyalty (the king, King Regis, father of the Chosen King who was to save them all).

The last is in the tattoo. She has given her Loyalty once, she has been Betrayed and Betrayed another once. She gave the last of her Loyalty to the Chosen King that day the Draconian drew his blades and bid the glaives to defend themselves and prove their right to live, when he declared that they would only be absolved should the Chosen King grant forgiveness. She will not give it to anyone else ever again. Not even Clan.

“Never could do subtle, could you,” Tabul sighs as he sees the way the crowd watches them, watches Iphigenia. Iphigenia just smiles crookedly and shrugs, never one for spoken word, not since a bad encounter with a Psychomancer ripped out her tongue (an injury that no longer exists, but seven years of habit is hard to undo).

“So what’s the plan?” she signs in the hybrid mix of GSL KSL, and the much trickier NSL Biggs and Wedge had taught them, the one they’d studied as a joke more than anything until it became useful for coded communication.

Tabul and Iphigenia look to Luca, their strategist, and the dark-skinned woman sips her water in thoughtful silence. She sets the water down with a clink and then smiles as she signs back, “Step one, get our magic back.”

“And step two?” Tabul signs.

“I’ll let you know when we’ve hit step one.” Luca signs at the same moment Iphigenia casually flicks out-

“Stab Drautos in his-” she ends the phrase with a gesture that is not traditionally sign language but is universally understood as something sensitive and insulting. Tabul chokes on his drink, having not expected a reason to laugh so soon in the day. Luca just sighs.

“I wonder if Lord Scientia had this much trouble wrangling his idiots,” she mutters in sign, the barest waggle of her fingers to form the letters almost like she’s trying to whisper with her hands.

Iphigenia just huffs in amusement and goes back to watching the other non-time-traveling glaives try to figure out whether Iphigenia is a screaming warning sign or just an oblivious Mainlander.

#SE asks #anon asks #Secret Engima Rambles #Trigeminal verse #Melodies and Manuscripts

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amarabliss · 4 years

Text

Galahdian Dreams (Nyx Ulric/Reader)

It’s Valentine’s Day and I have a whole new story in my head about Nyx…but I refuse to write it right now cause I want to finish Oaths and Hearts… so I will indulge a little for the sake of V-Day…

Synopsis: Your father was the king of Insomnia. He was good and just. You never thought you’d meet anyone like him after he was taken from the world. You Uncle Regis, has taken the throne and followed through on your father’s plans. It was good to see the city in capable hands. Enter Nyx Ulric, refugee, Glaive, fighter…how is it he can see all your secrets? He knows how to set you off and he’s promised to not let you go…(AU for sure, Regis wasn’t supposed to take the throne, and our lovely Nyx has more of a past then we thought…)

WARNING: Be aware, this may be triggering for those who deal with thoughts of suicide. If you need help please reach out. I love you, and no I will not let you go.

National Suicide Prevention Lifeline

1-800-273-8255

“You will escort my niece from this point on. Do you understand, Nyx Ulric?” King Regis held his gaze at the young man before.

Nyx’s eyes shifted just for a moment toward the former princess of Insomnia. She looked so sad and something in him stirred. He knew exactly how she felt in that moment.

Her home was no longer her’s. Forced to change in order to survive. Orphaned…

“Of course, your Majesty. I will do as you command.” Nyx planted his hand over his heart and bowed.

“Good…it is important for a bodyguard to understand his charge. Y/N,” Regis turned to you placing a hand on your arm, “this is for the best, I hope you will cooperate so he may do his job properly.”

“Yes uncle…of course.” You spoke quietly before glancing at this Glaive, “I appreciate everything you’re doing…under the circumstances…”

“I wish I could have done more…Your father was a great king and you mother a loving queen…I know they would have done the same had they ever been in the position I am in now.” Regis sighed his features softening, “I do this because I love you…and I do not want the same fate to befall you. It is only by the Six you were not in that caravan…”

“I won’t trouble you, I promise.” You stared into his eyes as you forced a smile, but your eyes were cold and distant, “I will do what is necessary…your Majesty…”

Nyx eyes widen slightly as you turned stepping away from Regis. He’d never seen anyone just leave the King’s presence before without being dismissed. Granted he and his people had only been filtering into the city within the last year, thanks to Regis’ extended hand of help, so his knowledge of Insomnian royal protocol was next to none.

“Uh…” Nyx glanced at you as you passed him. He cleared his throat bowing to Regis, “Your Majesty…”

“Go with your charge Glaive…keep her safe.” Regis’ eyes met Nyx’s directly as if to serve as a warning.

Nyx nodded once before turning briskly. He ran to catch up with you. He didn’t miss how you looked at him slightly irked by him placing an arm out to stop you, “Ma’am, I will go first.”

“As you see fit.” You took in a breath clenching your fists for a second.

He waved you out when he cleared the hallway and began following you down the many corridors, “Ma’am?”

“Yes?” You didn’t stop or look at him even for a second as he spoke to you.

“It would be a great benefit to know our destination.” He told you quickly, “So I can be better prepared…”

“You have nothing to worry about…” You looked at him finally pushing open a glass door, “We’re here.”

He hadn’t been to this part of the citadel before and he felt his mouth drop slightly as warm humid heat hit his face. A wide open greenhouse lay out before him. Colors of every kind sparkled from the flowers and leaves. It was winter in Insomnia, and this was…

“Are you going to stand there all day and gawk?” He looked over at you as you took off your cape hanging it up near some tools, “Or are you going to come in?”

“Forgive me ma’am…it…” He stopped as he shut the door to keep the heat inside.

“It what?” You asked as you tied an apron around you waist.

“Uh…” He tilted his head a little before he answered, “It reminds me of home, ma’am…”

You looked at him eyes flashing a little, “Like…Galahd?”

“Yes ma’am.” He nodded stepping in slowly.

“Hm…my father would bring back specimens from all his trips…” You spoke softly as you pulled on a glove, “Perhaps there is some piece of Galahd here…you’re welcome to look.”

“Thank you…ma’am.” Your eyes met his for the first time. He swallowed a little unsure of how to proceed.

Finally, you walked up to him holding out your ungloved hand, “I have a name…it’s certainly not ma’am…Y/N Lucis Caelum.”

He took your hand in his noting the softness of your skin, “Nyx Ulric.”

“Hm…” You shook his hand before letting it go, “Do you know plants?”

“Know? Uh, not particularly. No.” He shook his head as you walked back grabbing a watering can and a small handled carrier holding tools.

“Shame…I fear you’re going to be very bored.” You smiled, genuinely, and Nyx felt blessed to see it because it was lovely. Even if it did only last for a second.

“I learn fast…if it matters.” He sprinted to catch up with you as you walked through the garden, “I have a friend and we did know a thing or two about hops…”

“Hops? As in beer making?” You looked at him quzzically.

“Yes, ma’am…best brew of the capital…” He smiled and it slowly faded, “Well it was…”

You stopped and stared at him for a moment. You looked as if you had a thousand conversations you wanted to speak but not a single word made it past your lips. He could see such a strong wall behind your eyes. He understood it…

“Libertus had the green thumb.” He finally said to break the awkward tension, “I was more the face…”

“Ah…I see…” You nodded slowly turning from him silence falling again as you watered some plants. He shifted on the balls of his feet looking around the area. It was beautiful here and so unlike the rest of Insomnia. Here things felt alive.

“You can ask your questions if you like.” Your voice drew him back to the task at hand. You glanced over your shoulder, “But don’t expect it to be one sided.”

“…what happened?” He asked you seriously. A small breeze made the leaves sound like a wave as he watched you stand up stiffly.

You looked at him nose reddening from suppressed tears, “They were coming home from talks with…I think Lestallum…I don’t really remember…and a Nif hit squad bombed the caravan…”

“Why weren’t you with them?” He watched as it became a struggle to speak, “Y/N…why weren’t you with them? The Royal Family is supposed to travel together at all times…”

You took in a sharp breath, “…it was my birthday…and I stayed behind here with a friend and couple guards…I just….”

“You don’t have to say anymore…” Nyx took a step forward, “I understand.”

“Do you?” You looked up to his face an anger coming to your eyes.

“Yes…” He spoke straight faced, “You’re not the only one who’s lost people because of the Empire…you’re not the only one who’s lost a home because of it either…”

He watched as you took a step back looking at the ground, “This place…it’s all I have of my father anymore…He wasn’t a man who liked things.”

You went on taking off your glove before reaching out touch the leaves of a plant, “He liked to leave things behind…he wanted things to grow…”

“I’ve heard he was a kind king, that it was actually his idea to open the borders to us, Galahdians…” Nyx told you quietly, “I probably owe him my life, so it’s only fitting I protect yours.”

“For what it’s worth…” You whispered shutting your eyes, “which isn’t much anymore…”

“Whoa…” You looked at him as concern fell over his features, “Let’s make one thing clear, all life is sacred and created equally…Y/N, you’re not…”

“I’m tired…” You turned from him throwing the gloves in the box you carried as you walked away.

He stood there watching you for a moment before he followed you. Warning signs began signalling in his mind as he followed you all the way to your room. He stepped in clearing the room as his thoughts raced.

“All clear.” He stopped in front of you as you held the door.

“Thank you, you can go.” You waved for him to leave.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that ma’am.” Your eyes widened. Good you could still be surprised.

“Everything is clear…I don’t need your assistance any longer.” You told him quickly.

“No ma’am, there is a clear danger present.” Nyx stepped up to you leaning into your face becoming very serious, “I promised to protect you, that means even from yourself.”

You looked away from him shaking your head, “I have no intention…”

“Say it to my face.” His eyes narrowed in for the kill, “If you really mean it…say it to my face.”

The same emotional tells from before. Cold distant eyes full of a hurricane of self loathing. He knew that storm well, weathered it from time to time still himself, “I…”

“So…what…the plan was get a guard…a good one…” He reached up for the door pushing it closed, “Try to get them relaxed…disinterested in your hobbies…come back here…”

He moved across the room scanning everything until your eyes flickered toward the bookshelf. He walked over reaching for a decorated box as you spoke, “You have no right!”

He glared at you holding up the box from your reach. He turned reaching inside pulling out a pill bottle…one of many… He turned back clenching his jaw, “Well here…”

He shoved the box into your hands roughly making a few of the bottles fall out as he spoke, “You can do it, but I’m going to be right here to save you.”

Tears welled up into your eyes as your face reddened, “You don’t even know me!”

“I don’t need to know you to know that you’re hurting!” He shouted back at you, “I don’t need to know you to want to keep you safe!”

You let out a scream throwing the box at him. He shielding his head with is arm only lowering it when you looked him in the eye, “Get out!”

“No.” He flexed his hands as he shook his head, “I’m not going to leave you like this.”

“I don’t want you here!” You came up to pounding your fist into his chest, “Leave!”

“I won’t.” Six, he knew this pain. He knew this process and he wished someone had been there with him, “I won’t ever leave you like this.”

You screamed as tears pooled down your face. A years worth of holding it all in coming out all at once. You pushed him, punched him, and he just stood there until you couldn’t stand anymore.

His arms wrapped around you as he helped you to the floor. You cried into his chest, wails of loss, of resentment and shame. He sighed rubbing your back slowly trying to help you find a steady breathing pattern again.

“Your ladyship!” Guards burst into the room no doubt alarmed by the commotion from a moment ago.

Nyx looked at them shielding you from the world as he pledged he would, “We’re fine here…”

#galahdian dreams #nyx ulric #nyx ulric reader #nyx ulric/reader #kingsglaive #glaive #ffxv imagine #ffxv #nyx ulric imagine #final fantasy xv #final fantasy xv imagine

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