#but beyond that you get... nothing. and you're expected to just speculate?? figure it out somehow???

[blueskittlesart]

In defense of the original, while I do agree the episodic vibes were a bit much at times, and it was something I kinda had to work my way through slowly rather than binging all in one...

I do kinda prefer the more gradual approach to laying out the information; getting to know both the setting and who Vash is as a person and the different facets of both, before getting the context that lets it all click into place. Plus the main quartet having ample time to grow together so that later developments have stronger emotional weight.

I will agree that Knives definitely suffered in focus, and I am interested in how Stampede handles him, but admittedly he wasn't really what I watched Trigun for in the first place. ^^;

yeah my gripe is less with the way the setting and characters were handled and more with the way the. actual plot was handled. it honest to god felt to me like they realized about halfway through their run that they didnt have enough episodes left to get the backstory in in a cohesive way so they just shoved it all into one episode and pretended that that explanation didn't create more questions than it answered. you spend 20 episodes teasing your audience like "ooooh what is vash?? clearly hes not human!! clearly there's something going on!!! don't you want to know whats going on?? keep watching and you'll totally understand whats going on!!" and then your big reveal is that. He Is Not Human. which is something that any idiot who has watched the last 20 episodes has already figured out. the question the audience ACTUALLY has at that point in the runtime is what, EXACTLY, is vash, and what the context is behind the conflict he and knives are in. the backstory episode explains that Knives Is Here, and it gives context to the setting and everything, but it pissed me off that it STILL didn't answer the actual mysteries i cared about, i.e. vash's real identity and the thing with the gun and his fucking arm and knives's motivations and everything. maybe that gets answered in the last episode that i neglected to watch but personally I prefer a story where i UNDERSTAND WHAT'S GOING ON by the time the final confrontation hits. with trigun it got to a point where vash was going out for the final battle with knives and i STILL didn't know who vash was, who knives was, where they came from, or what the hell their motivations were. that just made that final confrontation seem so wholly uninteresting to me that i didn't even feel like watching it. it was like "hey look vash is fighting a cardboard cutout that he is Afraid Of. Why? lmao idk man. probably has something to do with that weird spaceship that shows up in one whole episode before this point. not going to tell you how tho." I think some writers have this tendency to think that mystery = good writing and that not revealing anything to your audience will consistently draw them in for more, but that only works for so long. after 20 episodes of virtually net 0 information it got to feel like I was being strung along and like my questions were never going to be answered, so I gave up on the show in the final hour. Again, i'm not saying it was BAD necessarily and i understand the context in terms of writing and production that led to the show being produced that way but i think it really noticeably suffers due to the fact that it refuses to give the audience ANYTHING but crumbs of information for about 80% of it's runtime. that being said. i did genuinely like a lot of it. it has its moments. im not trying to discourage anyone from watching it or anything lol i just think stampede is a little more successful in keeping the viewer engaged in the story throughout by constantly feeding you bits of information and actually answering your questions as they become plot-relevant.

#asks #wow hi. trigun essay intermission sorry everyone #this same thing applies to virtually every villain in the show. nick. zazzie. the guy with the blue hair whose name i dont even remember. #you get like. the barest snippets of information about them. you know theyre working for knives somehow #you know that they've been somehow modified? and that their titles identify them as relating to knives #in nick's case you know that his whole thing has something to do with the orphanage and the priesthood #but beyond that you get... nothing. and you're expected to just speculate?? figure it out somehow??? #nick especially pissed me off bc it got to a point where he was DEAD and i still didn't understand what the fuck his deal was #despite him being a supporting character for almost the entirety of the show. he still got only like half an episode dedicated to explainin #his backstory and motivations and EVERYTHING. and then he DIED #and like. to be fair. i think the lack of explanation worked in some places. it worked decently with vash #but it worked with vash BECAUSE vash is pretty much an open book as a character. you can easily tell what he's thinking and feeling #and it's not hard to extrapolate things about him from what you see. his pacifism. the fact that he's not human. his past trauma etc etc #you can get a good portion of that just by watching him throughout the show #but i think that only works BECAUSE he shows so much of himself. for a character like nick who is deliberately closed off #and NEVER shows his true self expecting the audience to be able to understand & empathize with him based solely on what he projects #just doesn't work. because it's made clear to the audience from the getgo that nick is not the person he claims he is #and that he takes steps to never show too much of himself. so when his backstory shows up randomly in one episode #and then he immediately dies. it leaves you kinda like. okay. what the hell was that. who was that guy anyway #you know??? #ok rant over fr

[3rddimension]

I'll be completely honest, sometimes I have the same thought as the previous anon. Them still going through the effort to conceal it confuses me too sometimes. I know that they are against a "public" relationship because of the unnecessary pressure and opinions, but also, I don't traditionally consider just knowing that people are in a relationship as being all that "public".

Think of ANY figure you know who is in a relationship, and while we get occasional photos, appreciation posts, or a one-off video together, they don't share any intimate details about their day-to-day relationship, so fans have nothing to really attach themselves to and speculate about. Anthony, Amanda, Kimmy, Markiplier, Jacksepticeye, Eddy Burback, Ted Nivison, Jacksfilms, Alanah Pearce, James and Elyse Willems... those are just off the top of my head, but there's COUNTLESS people who are just okay with the world knowing.

So I'm always thinking, like, why are S and C so different in that regard?

I get that there might be some strange speculation and parasocial creeps, but like... S and C get that ANYWAYS, so how does that change by making it public knowledge at the bare minimum? I'm sure other creators also get weirdos in DMs, especially women (I def know Alanah Pearce gets weird comments on her relationship). But for S and C, the weirdos who wanted to find out (me, I am weirdos, lol) already found out, and they learned to tune out weirdos in all other aspects, so... I don't get why they don't just rip the band-aid.

But I know there's also another angle to it. The nature of S and C's job is very parasocial at its core. They had entire series on Pit diving into their dating lives and went into otherwise pretty imtimate details. Even beyond dating lives, they've had to share a TON of info about their lives simply for content. I think they both are ones to deeply appreciate keeping some things to themselves for that reason. And if their relationship is one of those things, then that's totally cool.

There's also some other less-expected reasons they might keep it private.

It's just a fact in the industry that women and fem-presenting influencers who *appear* single get more attention and followers. If people knew C wasn't single, she would probably lose male followers on IG instantly. How MUCH she would lose is debateable, but... that's a very real problem they might consider.

Another reason is C stated they've dealt with a stalker before, which got to the point of legal action, and that's a very traumatic experience. Not trying to upset any of her aggressively creepy fans can also be a good reason.

C might also want to conceal it because she very outwardly promotes her bi/pan identity, so she might want to avoid any snide remarks about her being in a "straight relationship". Yes, bi-exclusionary gay people are still out there and are still very annoying.

C might just not want any speculation about her role and successes at Smosh being attributed to her relationship with S. She's a very talented and dedicated performer, writer, and director, and she would probably prefer to keep that attributed to her and NOT her relationship.

At the end of the day, you're right, they have no obligation. However unnecessary we might think it is, or however different they might think they are from every other online creator who we know is in a relationship, it's their choice and we should always respect that.

So good for you to mentioned Alanah. She just posted one of the comment on her IG stories that's pretty much in line with what you said. It's related with her BF (Rahul Kohli) that just met up for a dinner with Mark Hamil who's costar with him in a movie.

As you can see she's pretty chill from this kind of comment and even post some occasionally. But this definitely different from people to people for sure. I'm sure Court and Shayne can handle it but maybe this is one of the reason why they're still effort to be private.

[ipromiseimawriter]

WIP TITLE GAME

RULES: post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! and then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

Tagged by @zahnie - thank you omg!!

From most recently worked on to least (roughly): (I tend to be pretty literal with these for the most part, if they don't already have a title)

destiel fix it fic - draft 2: is what it says on the tin. I will get to chipping at the end of this godforsaken series, so hELP ME. I do have a fancy lil summary though (this could get edited later but y'know!!):

“What are you doing? Dean, no–!” “You asked me to stop you. So I’m stopping you.” ( As promised, the Empty came for Castiel when his soul called. When it sang a happiness so profound that nothing else could possibly contain it. But Dean wasn’t ready to let go – and if you were to ask him, he’d swear he had failed Cas one too many times. So when the time came, he sank right down with him. )  Chuck could’ve called it, really. But there’s no biblical preparation for their journey through the Empty. It’s all up to them, now, while Sam and Jack (and friends) race to undo Chuck’s damage to the world. Alternating POV. 15x18 CODA/Fix-It Fic for end of 15x18/15x19 & beyond [15x20 who is she lmao]

destiel theatre bitches AU: an incredibly self-indulgent AU where Dean and Castiel are professors for a theatre department at a (made-up) small liberal arts school somewhere in Kansas. Cas is a new arrival to the department who's making waves (and suggesting some batshit shows for production), Dean's the gruff and well-loved scene shop head/tech professor who doesn't like his toes getting stepped on (jk yes he does), and they're gonna be soooo normal about it (me when i lie). nearly everyone and their mom is in this AU. we have fun here

Welcome to Purgatory: an original work (longform)! a story inspired by my time interacting with SPN/with other horror-fantasy adjacent medias, some characters I've had for 1000 years, and just - fucking around and finding out. I def tried to NaNoWriMo it before, to no such luck, so I just chip at it on my own time. I've got a running tag for it if you're ever interested! (old summary)

Jules Herrick went missing without a trace in the early nineties, and his hunting partner, Simon Villanova, never saw him again. We jump ahead about twenty-five years and realize why he should’ve stayed missing. Victor and Amelia are two childhood friends separated by time and responsibility, reuniting for what should be a normal road trip under less fortunate circumstances - the death of a mutual friend. However, the trip is quickly derailed by a strange pursuer that sends them on the run, and into action.  The people who catch up with them to help are not what they expect. The lives their families have led were kept from the two for safety. But between a rogue demon, its lost hellhound, and a secret organization hunting down the missing man and his cohorts, one question must be asked: What does Jules Herrick want with the end of the world, as they know it?

go catch a sunset (stanford-era dean/the outsiders bullshit): a Stanford-era Dean fic (which has 2 chapters up!) that I sort of use as my lil swimming pool for figuring ideas out? Mostly just speculation and big character thoughts on that very vulnerable time. I'm v much looking forward to introducing both Bobby and Cassie soon, getting some Winchester drama, and picking at those good backstory characters.

mama barracuda (WIP title - eldritch horror type shit): an original work (short story). "There's a monster in the woods, just off the beaten path from Hope's home. She isn't the first to be trapped into position of Keeper for the Barracuda of the Backwoods, but she is the first - in a very long time - to truly understand her. They call her Mama." So essentially - monster collects teeth for her own rotting mouth. Sisyphean effort on the Keeper's part. Symbiotic parasite/mother-daughter type shit. LOTS TO UNPACK.

honorable mention: a bunch of plays and other lil bits that would take me too long to describe <333

tagging: @subtlefires, @disabled-dean , @butchabouttown, @luckshiptoshore , and anyone who wants to play! (this includes all my friends who may see this and go "hey i have wips". give it to me. i want to see it)

#tag game #writing stuff #original work #fanfic #elliot rambles #tagged: zahnie #supernatural #welcome to purgatory

[techycatartist]

Toro was met with perhaps the most visceral-sounding sobbing he’d ever heard in his life.

“I’m here, Tee. I’ll wait until you're ready to speak”.

T-Express, aka “Tee”, usually let Toro know when they wanted to call, as the differing time zones ensured that there would only be a few hours where both parties were awake.

But as much as T-Express’ cries warned Toro of its catalyst, he had no idea what to expect. Toro knew that their coaster was being actively worked on, so it was unlikely— yet not impossible— that he was going to learn of T-Express’ permanent closure. There was nothing (as far as he knew) to suggest that Everland as a whole was struggling financially; they wouldn’t have initiated T-Express’ refurbishment if they couldn’t afford to.

Coughs emitted from Toro’s phone speaker, followed by the sound of Rolling X-Train’s voice.

“Aniyo…”

“You can call me back later. It’s okay”.

Tee’s voice became more distant as they conversed with Rolling X-Train, leaving Toro to resume speculating.

“Tee’s been close to RXT since the day they opened— and it seems like with every passing year, we have less and less Arrows around”, he thought.

Toro had initially received the call as he was conversing with some of his neighbors, wisely deciding that the privacy of his bedroom was a better place to be.

“Don’t know how ride closures are handled over there, but the people in charge over here aren’t always the best about it…”

Just by the tone of their voice, Toro knew that Rolling X-Train was trying to soothe T-Express.

“Maybe this is about…No. Wouldn’t make sense for Tee to be so distraught. Unless…”

Toro mulled over the possibilities, as it was the only way he could keep himself from getting swept up in the emotions of it all.

“Keep it together, Toro. The last thing Tee needs is to feel like they’re burdening someone…”

Just as the ten-minute mark had passed, Toro heard T-Express pick their phone up.

“Tee?”

Shaky breaths emitted from his phone’s speaker.

“What’s wrong?”

“…RMC is here”.

Toro flung his phone onto his bed, sparing his phone from potentially being crushed beyond repair.

The one possibility he didn’t consider.

The one possibility he didn’t want to consider.

Toro frantically switched on “speaker mode”, feeling an ever-so-familiar tingle in his scalp.

“Here for what?”

“For….for….m-m….me”.

The last part of Tee’s response sounded muffled, like someone had covered their mouth.

Toro sank to the floor, hands clutching at his head.

“What are they doing?”

“What…?”

“What. are. they. DOING. TO. YOU?”

Everland’s initial notice only mentioned a “suspension” of T-Express’ operations, not that it would be closing permanently. “It can’t be I-Box”, Toro thought. “They wouldn’t”.

“They are putting new track on.“

“And it’s steel?”

“…y-yes”.

“What does it look like?

“It is…it is steel. It looks like steel…!”

“You need to be more specific”.

“It is…bare. Unpolished. Dull. They didn’t paint it”.

It clicked in Toro’s head.

“That’s 208 RetraK”.

Toro slowly climbed onto his bed; he had narrowly managed to avoid flying into a state of (literal) burning rage.

“I’m not getting I-Box?”

“No.”

“But…why? Isn’t that what RMC makes?”

“They only use I-Box for full conversions”.

“Ah. So I’m not becoming an RMC”.

Toro bit his tongue, trying to think of a statement that was…less harsh than what he was actually feeling.

“Your…your coaster’s layout is not changing”.

“I will just have new track on my first drop and two hills following. But it will feel the same!”

“NO”, Toro blurted out.

There was a pause.

“…What do you mean? If I am not getting I-Box, nothing will change, like you just said”.

“Steel track doesn’t run like Prefab track, Tee”.

“I figured so. But if it runs the same course, with the same movements…it doesn’t erase what came before”.

Toro was lucky that they couldn’t see his face.

“In that regard, my status remains as an Intamin Prefabricated Wooden Coaster”.

“…”

“…I’m still a Prefab, right?”

“…”

“…Toro?”

“…”

T-Express began to cry once more; “You’re right…how can I call myself a Prefab now? I am a disgrace…!” After a few seconds of sobbing, the call ended.

Toro laid upon his bed, emotionally paralyzed.

“This was never supposed to happen”, he thought. “We were doing “steel coaster” things way before RMC decided to take the easy way out. Prefabs don’t need to become “better”, and the only reason why we’re having issues is because of human laziness”.

“Tee was running just fine with Prefab track, and if there really were any issues, Intamin would’ve fixed their coaster like they did with Colossos and Balder”.

“If Intamin wasn’t interested in making any more prefabs, then why are we still listed on their website?”

“Regardless of where we were built, we became a favorite among park guests…even as the years went on”.

“After all, I’m still the best coaster at this park”.

Toro was interrupted by a rapid burst of knocking; he turned away from the sound.

“Toro, this is Ka. I am concerned about your absence. Have you finished conversing with T-Express?”

“…”

“Going by your silence, I will assume so. If you aren’t going to permit my entrance inside, can you let me know what has happened”?

“T-Express is getting RMC’s 208 RetraK”, Toro answered bitterly.

“…I see”.

There was a pause.

“I may not know them well, but I believe that T-Express wanted Intamin to retrack their coaster as much as you wanted it to happen. Unfortunately, these kinds of decisions are simply out of our hands”.

“So I’m just supposed to be complacent with whatever shitty deal I’m given?”

“I’m not saying you have to agree with what Everland is doing, but-”

“What happens when Great Adventure decides to do the same for my coaster? You know they’re just itchin’ to save some cash…”

“You say this as if it’s an inevitability”.

“Because it is”.

“You don’t know that. Yes, there is a possibility that Great Adventure will elect to apply 208 RetraK on your coaster. But this is the only park that engineers its own Intamin Prefab track— they may not see a reason to look for outside help”.

“They’re only doing it because they thought they had no choice, Ka. Now that it’s been proven that 208 RetraK works on Prefabs, they can just slap some steel on me and call it a day”.

“Isn’t this preferable to T-Express undergoing a full I-Box conversion? From what I understand, a majority of the ride will remain wooden— and 208 RetraK was designed to retain the same ride experience”.

Toro swung open the door, with only the sounds of his hooves allowing Ka to back away.

“Because this is how it STARTS. At first, it’s only on a “high-stress area”, but then people start liking how smooth it is, and then the execs think about how “better” the coaster would be if it were all-steel. Just like that, we now have another RMC Hybrid. It happened to Rattler, it happened to Riverside Cyclone, it happened to Georgia Cyclone, it even happened to Lighting Rod! Hell, Boulder Dash and Predator are getting more Titan Track with each passing season”.

“If Everland was truly interested in converting T-Express, don’t you think they would’ve made that decision already?”.

“Well maybe they should have, instead of pussyfooting around the fact that they don’t value T-Express and just want to chase the newest trends. It’s not like I’d feel any worse than I do now…”

“I think you’re still valuable, Toro. We all do”.

Toro looked away from Ka, sighing deeply.

“You know, out of all the Coasterdroids here— I thought you’d be the most understanding”.

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t play dumb, Ka. You know Zamperla’s gonna show themselves here sooner than later”.

With just the name of a company, Toro had dealt a blow to Ka’s confidence.

“When they tear out your hydraulics, construct a spike of facsimile track and slap their fancy new “lighting” trains on, will you even be able to consider yourself an Intamin Accelerator?”

“…”

“That’s what I thought. Stop trying to act all high-and-mighty with me; you’re due for a “reimagining” sooner than later. But at least your track will remain all-steel…”

“Would you rather have your coaster demolished, Toro?”

Ka had captured Toro’s full attention, eyes locked on each other.

“Answer me. Would you prefer to die?”

“…What do you think?”

Silence filled the air.

Ka took a deep breath.

“I know you aren’t completely against RMC, Toro”.

“Oh, aren’t I? It’s not like I want to kick the shit out of every human who says I’m “too rough” now, because only someone who merely dislikes RMC would—“

“You wouldn’t have wished for Rolling Thunder to be converted”.

Toro’s eyes widened.

“I couldn’t forget about that”.

“I…I was too overwhelmed with grief. I never wanted RMC to fix his coaster when Thunder was alive”.

“But you still thought about it. You still said it”.

“…”

Toro broke his eye contact.

“TT2 may not be an Intamin Accelerator, but I still care about them— they’re my sibling, first and foremost. I think you should do the same for T-Express”.

“…”

Toro turned around, throwing himself onto his bed.

“I understand if you wish to sleep on this, but I trust that you will make the right decision”.

“Don’t expect me to show up at breakfast tomorrow”.

“Why not?”

JD leapt onto the table, slamming his phone on the surface.

“THAT’S 208 RETRAK, BABY! I WIN, I WIN!”

He threw his head back, cackling.

“THIS IS THE BEST DAY OF MY LIFE!!!”

JD stomped around, hooting and hollering with glee.

“If you have to celebrate, I advise that you do so elsewhere”, Ka insinuated. “I would prefer not to have hoofprints in my breakfast ”.

“Yeah, I could…except you didn’t consider the fact that INTAMIN PREFABS ARE RMC-ABLE!”

Ka groaned in frustration— a sentiment that was echoed by most of those seated with him.

Toro laid on his back, staring up at the ceiling; music from a Spanish radio station played faintly in his ears.

Suddenly, the music was cut off by a familiar ringtone. Toro decided to let the call go through.

“You there?”

“Haven’t left”.

“Is it ok if I come in? Didn’t feel right to show up unannounced”.

“…Sure”.

Nitro was greeted with half-lidded eyes.

“I know what’s happening to T-Express”.

“Let me guess…JD told everyone?”

“Yeah”.

Toro balled his left hand into a fist, pressing it up against his forehead.

“Trust me, we were all annoyed with him”.

“Yeah, I know…but to even think about how he reacted gives me a headache”.

“Well, that might be from the lack of sleep”.

Toro blinked slowly, serving to reinforce Nitro’s point.

“I’m not going to judge you for feeling this way, Toro. I don’t think I’ll ever fully understand how RMC has affected wooden coasters like you”.

“…Thanks”.

“Is there anything you want to talk about?”

“No, No…I already had my talk with Ka”.

“Okay”.

Toro looked down at the floor.

“What’s in the bag?”

“Oh! Well, it’s not going to magically solve this problem, but I think you’ll feel a bit better after you see…” Nitro reveals the gift she’s brought. “This!”

Toro examines the plush, taking it from Nitro. It’s a light-brown brown bull with cream-colored horns and brown hooves, wearing a navy blue bandanna adorned with the NJ Transit logo.

“…Is this Ricardo?”

“Yep!”

Toro gave the plush a light squeeze; “It’s…cute, I guess”.

“Thought it would be funny, y’know…because he’s a bull from New Jersey, and you’re a bull from New Jersey”.

“Pretty sure Ricardo’s not the only bull living in this state, but sure. Consider me amused”.

“That’s what I was hoping for!”

“So what else is inside?”

“Well…”

Nitro fully unzipped the bag.

“I wasn’t the only one who bought you a Ricardo plush”.

Toro looked down at the cluster of plushies, then at her.

“I had no idea until I saw all the boxes from NJ Transit, honestly!”

“Maybe I can keep an extra one for display purposes, but…what do you expect me to do with all of these?”

“There’s always eBay”.

“You think they’ll be enough people out there who want one?”

“I can think of someone who’d appreciate a gift from their cousin…”

Toro turned his gaze back at the plush.

“T-Express At Everland— Updated P.O.V 2024”

Toro highlighted the video’s URL, pasting it into the text-message box. For him, It was the morning of April 5th.

“Saw this being shared by enthusiasts. I wanted to view it so I can better judge what the 208 is doing”.

A speech bubble containing an ellipsis pulsed as Toro awaited Tee’s response.

“What do you think of it?”

“Actually”.

“Don’t answer here. I will call you”.

Toro left his phone on the nightstand, switching to “speaker” mode just before he answered.

“Hello, Tee”.

“Hi”.

There was a pause.

“I never thanked you for the plush, so…thanks! He lives on my desk now.”

“You’re welcome”.

“I wish I could say more, but there is the matter at hand. Toro…What do you think of my coaster?”

“Well…It’s good to see that they’ve kept the original rolling stock. RMC has made 208 Retrak’s universality a selling point”.

“I did wonder if I’d have to say goodbye to my trains…it is good to be wrong”.

“I can still hear the airtime going over the first two hills”.

“It’s a different tune now, like a thunderstorm surrounding the area”.

“So if it’s doing that, it should feel like intense ejector”.

“Oh yes, it does! I gave it a test ride today. No changes on that front. But…you were right about it no longer feeling like a Prefab”.

Toro picked up his phone from the nightstand.

“With only a bit having steel track, I could easily compare the difference. As smooth as RMC’s 208 is, I like the “edge” of wooden prefabricated track. Everything afterwards is just as it was before the closure. It’s nice. It feels like me. Like how it should—“

“I’m sorry”.

“What?”.

“You don’t have to downplay your feelings about the retrack, Tee. I was wrong to push my bias on to you”.

“…I was just so worried…”

“Don’t be. There’s not much value I’d get out of being angry at you”.

“So I can say with confidence that I like the track?

“Of course”.

“Then…I like 208 Retrak! I like RMC as a whole! I am very happy that they are giving Gyeongju World a new coaster; Humans will adore them as much as we will! I am a fan of RMC and Intamin!”

Toro smiled.

“But… I must ask. Do you see me as an Intamin Prefab?”

Toro gave it some thought, wracking his brain to come up with the best response.

“Well…what do you think?”

“Hm?”

“I want to know if you think you’re an Intamin Prefab”.

Toro heard T-Express take a deep breath.

“Yes. I am an Intamin Prefab”.

#techystory #techycharacters #techyoctoro #techyocnitro #techyockingdaka #techyocjdc #cw death mention

[afandommultiverse]

One Night Lifetimes - Langris Vaude

word count - 4k

request - patpatlangit

warnings - Lime, no actual smut even though it says lemon juice, I'm sorry I got really tired and ended up making this 4k words and didn't have the brainpower or creativity to write smut, demand of abortion 

a/n - of course enjoy, and let me know about any spelling errors please! Again sorry there no team smut❤️

~~~

“Hey, Y/n, you’re glowing a bit, you okay?” Looking up from your food you stared at Vanessa questioningly. Her sudden odd question caught the attention of some of the others eating at the table. 

“Oh yeah! Did you do some new kind of body wash, Y/n? You’re shiny!” Asta exclaimed, stuffing his face as he looked at me for an answer, as did everyone else. 

“No… I haven’t changed anything in my schedule- or any of my products.” The only thing different from my life is… I couldn’t be? He wouldn’t be stupid enough… Everyone else continued to talk and speculate before someone finally asked the Captain for his opinion. 

“What do you think, Cap’n?” Yami eyed you up and down, his expression unreadable as he looked at you over his newspaper. Before going back to reading he folded to the next page saying;

“I know a thing or two about glowing women… I’ll call a good mage of mine to come to check you out.” 

***

“Any change in foods?” 

“Uhm, no not really.” 

“And you said you haven’t changed any bathing products?” 

“Yep.”

“No schedule changes?” 

“No.” 

“Well, then I’ll run a quick spell over ya’ and we should know what's wrong with you in a jiffy, Dearie.” The old woman smiled warmly, easing your anxious nerves and buzzing fingers, which played together tirelessly in your lap. The doctor's grimoire opened and the relief of her mana washed through your body, cleansing every cell leaving you with refreshed, rested bones and muscles overworked or exerted from missions with every touch, even the slight nausea you had earlier disappeared. 

“When was the last time you had your monthly cycle, Dearie?” You look at the woman, confused but almost knowing what she was already going to say. Again that nausea was back, along with a new lump in your throat that burned and tightened the muscles around it, pulling painfully on the tear ducts of your eyes. 

“Two- Two months.” Your voice was shaky, wavering weakly in reply. 

“Oh, Dearie,” Reading your face she didn’t know what to say. All she did was hug you and rub your back consolingly as you sat frozen, still breathing and heart. 

Time seemed to blur by after that when you came back to the hideout in your room, Yami and the mage talking outside, they’re murmurs coming through the wooden door taunted your ears. A few moments of silence passed before the door opened to show Yami. He came in as neutral as ever, lighting a cigarette and coming to sit beside you on the bed, which creaked loudly under his weight. 

“Here, Gladys gave me these to give to you.” He handed you a glass bottle of small capsules. You looked at the bottle and read the label ‘Prenatal Supplements,’ yet another sign that what was happening is real. 

“Are you going to keep it?” Yami asked, looking at the wall while blowing out a puff of smoke. 

“I don’t know.” 

“Are you going to tell him?” You snorted weakly. 

“I think that's the only thing I’m sure about at this point.” You fell to the side and laid your head on his shoulder, holding back every tear that had been building up behind your eyes since you got the news. 

“So am I gonna tell Finral he’s going to be an uncle or do you want the honors?” You turned to look up at him, head-snapping so fast you thought you broke it. 

“You knew?” Yami turned to look at you, a grin pulling at his lips, teeth gripping his cigarette in place. 

“Who do you think brought you back that night?” 

***

“Captain Langris? A visitor is here to see you.” Langris frowned, he wasn’t expecting anyone today, he was supposed to be working on mission assignments and specifically freed up the day due to his lag in work as of late, a certain woman clouding his thoughts. 

“Come in.” He wasn’t prepared for who came through the threshold of his office door. In you walked, legs striding with a confidence you didn’t feel at all, but you could have fooled him, with your head held high you met him head-on at his desk. 

“What can I do for you, Y/n?” His chin came to rest on his pen that he held in front of him with his two hands, watching you with sharp, intrigued eyes, anyone else might have thought he was bored, but he was beyond curious of where this would go. 

“I-” The words were stuck in your throat, a huge knot holding up the words from passing your lips. 

“What is it?” He didn't mean to come off so rude but it was out of instinct, he wasn’t a patient man. 

“W-Well.” Once again the words balled up in your throat, restricting your breathing as your eyes began to water, built-up anxiety and nerves ripping away at your nerves as you began to shake. 

“Well? Get on with it-”

“I'M PREGNANT!” The scream seemed to clear your throat, but the shaking continued, as did the tears burning your eyes, blurring the reaction of Langris, but you didn’t need to see it. 

“Get rid of it.” you blinked, breakdown halted for but a second, a second of clarity where you saw him, terrified and desperate, another blink, calm- angry eyes. You took a step back, disgusted, almost betrayed. You didn’t know what to expect when coming here, but it wasn’t this.

“Y/n wait-” He could see the disgust in your somber eyes, the regret for even coming here. He should've known, his mouth speaking before he even really thought about it, a mistake solely on his part. 

“No, I-I’m sorry to bother you but I need to go.” 

“Y/n no-!” You were just out of reach, just falling from his hand, his stumble almost made him run into the door which you slammed closed on your way out, by the time he opened it, you were already gone. 

“Fuck…” 

***

Three Years Later 

“Thank you for coming in on such short notice.” Langris was quiet and hushed as spoke to Finral, essentially unnerving him. 

“Langris? Are you okay?” Finral almost offered to get him a glass of water but held back in fear of insulting his younger brother, even after their bettered relationship, Finral still felt there were some lines he still didn’t get to cross.

“Fine, I’m fine. I’ve asked for you because I have a proposition.” 

“A proposition?” Finral watched as Langris pulled out a long piece of paper from his desk, the edges sharp and lined with gold. As Langris laid the paper down slid it toward his older brother, Finral in return, brushing it closer, reading the words written with wide eyes. 

“I-Is this some sort of joke?!” Finral shoved the paper away, glaring at his brother, not finding one of his usual pranks so funny. After everything he’d done, what right does he have to ask this of him- to ask this of you!

“Finral-”

“No! Do you have any idea what you said did to her? I’ve seen your lows, Langris, but I didn’t think you would go this far. I thought you had made it clear you didn’t want anything to do with-”

“It was a mistake! Those words were flying out of my mouth before I even had a chance to even think of what I was saying. I know that doesn’t make it any better, but it’s the truth. Y/n doesn’t deserve that, she doesn’t even deserve me, she should have nothing but the best but… well- goddamnit I love her and I’m going to try my damn well hardest to fix what I did!” Finral couldn’t believe it, the tears filling his younger brother's eyes only fueling the shock rippling throughout his senses, freezing him. Langris loved you? Langris didn’t love anyone. 

“How do I know you're not lying, that you’re not just trying to get close to her and Lefric only to kidnap him and sell him huh?” Finral eyes his brother, suspicion ripping at his thoughts, training each opinion and speculation. 

“Lefric? Is that his name?” The smile on Langris’ face was almost unnatural, something Finral hadn’t seen in so long, a genuine smile. 

“Y-Yes.” Langris hummed, leaning back and seeming to drift away in his thoughts, probably his little paradise where he was with you and Lefric, a part of the family you had created, but the sadness clouded his eyes once again, reminded by the reality of which you hate him, and your son, his son, didn’t even know he existed.

“I don’t plan to sell my son, and I don’t plan on deceiving Y/n either, I just want another chance.” Finral sat back and looked at his brother for a long time, and several emotions ran through his eyes and face, sometimes his eyes contradicting the face he was making, and then he was completely unreadable. It was the first time Langris wanted to hear Finral speak. 

“Okay, I’ll bring her- BUT if you so much as making a suspicious glance at her OR Lefric, we are outta there!” Langris almost could hold his joy in, feeling like jumping around and throwing his hands in the air, instead he settled on a face-splitting smile that frightened his older brother. 

“Perfect! Shall we get you ready for your wedding?” 

“MY WHAT?!” 

***

Sitting in the white chair your blood boiled, simmering under your skin and scorching your veins. What was Finral thinking bringing you here, bringing Lefric here! You had the mind to struggle him in your seat right now if the music hadn’t started playing and everyone stood. Lefric hung off my you as you both turned to watch the bride walk down the aisle. 

Finesse looks gorgeous, draped in a white fabric dripping from her figure in exact seams and hems. Her veil was decorative, lace flowers growing across, she looked like a goddess. Walking toward the steps of her future matrimony, gorgeous lilies in hand, you couldn't help but think if this deity knew about her future husband's bastard child. Everyone sat back down and the priest began, looking over at Finral, you realized why he might have brought you, clutching at his slacks, he couldn’t even look up at the ceremony, eyes burning into his legs. You only slid Lefric onto one hip and grabbed Finral’s hand, squeezing it reassuringly. You were happy to feel a small squeeze back. 

The ceremony blurred as Lefric began moving, playing with your dress and hair, you couldn’t help but play with him too, making sure you were still quiet, but your playtime was halted when a sentence from the priest caught your ear. 

“Is there anyone who objects to this?” The priest turned to the crowd looking for objectors, surprise pulling at his old face when someone did. 

“I do.” The priest pulled back, babbling nothings before spitting out, “I beg your pardon?!”

“I object. I don’t love her and I don’t want this marriage.” Some people in the crowd gasped, some even laughed, others watched on in astound, frozen in their seats. You looked away from the others, catching the sad face of Finesse at the altar, as sad as she was though, the breath of relief was obvious. 

“I wouldn’t want to put Finesse through that.” Confusion wiped at her eyes, some even dotting my face with furrowed brows. Langris turned to look at me, looking as though relieved and elated. His gaze went sideways finding Finral and nodding. The brothers wordlessly switched places, much to your annoyance as you whispered questions to Finral as he walked away. Panic and anxiety bubbled up and your hold on Lefric tightened a little watching as Langris walked closer, his final steps the only thing you heard over the blood rushing your ears. 

“Y/n.” His voice was but a whisper, hesitant and tentative much like a shy child, which coming from Langris, was the least of what you expected. His eyes dropped from you and fell on your son, eyes suddenly ten times brighter. He looked as though he was going to pick Lefric up from me, but he stopped, his arms frozen awkwardly, before stiffly smoothing down his suit. His hand came down to grab my free one before turning back to the priest and saying, 

“You may continue.” The priest looked off to the parents of Langris and Finral, met with angry scowls but nodding heads, so he continued. 

Sitting beside you, he paid you no mind, never once letting go of your hand either. You thought of pulling it away, even moving your wrist a little to pull it away but you stopped. Why you don’t know, maybe it was because his hand was so warm, a warmth you’d been needing for a while. 

“And do you Finral Roulacase take Finesse to be your lawfully wedded wife? To have and to hold till death do you part?”  

“I do.” 

“And do you Finesse Calmreich, take Finral to be your lawfully wedded husband? To have and to hold till death do you part?”  

“I do!” 

“I may now pronounce you as husband and wife, you may now kiss the bride!” 

***

The reception was loud and joyful food and drinks passed around nobles and spectators mingling together, each going up and their own time to congratulate the married couple. When it came to be your turn, Langris followed you up, practically as attached to your hip as Lefric. 

“Y/n I know I’m horrible but-” 

“Congratulations Finral, I’m glad everything could work out. You two deserve each other.” You watched as Finesse smiled and squeezed at Finral’s hand. Finral smiled as he looked down at the hand clasping his, still not believing that this was truly happening. 

“Thank you, Y/n.” You nodded. 

“Of course.”  you set down your wedding gift to give to them on the table before handing over a second present. 

“So since someone has some explaining to do and you're busy, you get to watch Lefric while Langris does explain this all to me. Sound good? Good?” The end was a bit snippy, but you're already peeved off self sort-of had a right. Langris followed without command and followed you into the first empty room you could find, a simple guest room. You sat on the bed and sighed, staring up at Langis with squinted eyes, skeptical of his motives. 

“You may begin.” 

“I made a deal with Finral that if he brought you to the wedding, he would be marrying Finesse instead of me.” Never one to beat around the bush, Langris answered you with a bored tone, staring at you like he had done nothing wrong like he’d done nothing at all. 

“And what in the hell were you thinking when you did that?” You were pissed, fuse lit and burning down fast, you were ready to explode. 

“I was thinking that I love you and I want to be a family, I want to be a father to Lefric.” It was like a bucket of water had been dropped on you, efficiently washing out the burning fuse. Langris dropped to his knees and looked up at you. 

“Please, give me a chance Y/n. You wouldn’t believe how sorry I am, honest. I didn’t mean to say what I did back then, and I'm so glad you didn’t listen to my foolish ass. Please, Y/n I don’t think I can watch him grow up from the sidelines.” 

“You’ve done well so far,” you muttered, turning away from his pleading eyes which seemed to burn through you , pulling at the heart-strings you had thought you cut off. He looked away with a small sad smile, shaking his head. 

“No, I haven’t. I was there when you had your seventh-month scare, even arranging a better doctor for you. I was there when you were recovering in the hospital after giving birth. I managed to catch glimpses of him at his first birthday party but that was a bit difficult, that boy Asta moves around too much for his good. It was his second birthday, I couldn’t make it, I was sent on an assignment near the kingdom's border, and god- I was so pissed. I don’t think I’d ever seen my men so scared of me.” He stopped coming forward to drop down in front of you. Langris Vaude, on his knees, looking up at you like you were the empress which ruled his life.

“I knew that I couldn’t do it anymore, I couldn’t watch him from the sidelines, I wanted to see him and me… I wanted to see you.” He finished shakily, eyes dropping to the thighs he leveled with, he was sincere, honest, there was nothing much he missed more than you, even if it was only one night, no woman has ever compared to you. Looking up at you now, sharp eyes glaring at him while slowly softening as he pleaded, Langris had never felt more at home then underneath you. He was so close, closer than he’d been in four years, he didn’t even feel his arm moving from his side moving to lay on your thigh, falling in slightly. Langris knew he had you when he spotted the shiver in your back run down your thighs closing them around the fingers that slipped to touch the soft skin of your inner thighs. 

“Langris,” Your voice was stern but it wavered, frailty curving around your words as they fell from lips. “I don’t… I can’t just accept you into my life this is gonna take a lot of time. You hurt me Langris, scared me.” Your head pulled at his own, curling it up in your CV hands. 

“But I can meet you halfway, as long as you promise to do the same.” Langris felt his breath stop, looking up at you he felt like crying, he felt like screaming in joy but he settled on smiling up at you, tears welling in his eyes slowly, making his eyes shine in the lowly lit room. 

“Thank you,” He whispered, “thank you, thank you, thank you.” 

***

Six Months Later

Langris met halfway, if not more which swept you off your feet more than anything, the second Langris met Lefric he had been nothing less than a loving father, spending time with him as much as he could and even taking him out, of course only with you or Finral’s presence. If Lefric became upset, Langris was there to ask him what’s wrong and comfort him before a cry even left his lips. Family dinner became a thing every Wednesday, usually held at the Black Bulls hideout but the times where you ate with Golden Dawn commanders sometimes evening the Captain coming to join, those nights were filled with just as rich food and laughter. 

Then there were the dates, the nights Finral and Finesse took care of Lefric and left you and Langris to go out and eat, filled with flirty gestures and hearty chuckles. As much as he cared for Lefric, Langris equally cared for you, checking on you when you seemed stressed, coming to see you after coming back from a mission, even occasionally going shopping with you for small things or groceries because he wanted to be near you. With Langris as Vice-Captain and you being a guild member yourself, it was hard and there were some disagreements, old Langris even coming out a few times but he never failed to apologize, and neither did you if you were wrong, you both couldn’t afford to be petty, if he- if you both wanted this work, then you had to think about Lefric as well.

Six months doesn’t feel like much, but as you break down every moment, every decision, every soft minute, each building juncture in your budding relationship, you wouldn’t give it up for anything. To you, Langris had long proven himself and you were tired of waiting for the right time to thank him and forgive him. 

“Are you ready?” You snapped out of the recollection of events, met with the questioning eyes of a certain Vice Captain, holding his hand out for you, ready to take you home after a refined night out at some highly rated nobility restaurant. The food had been great and the wine was sweet, heavy on your tongue and you never found your mouth closed, conversation buzzing the entire night, carrying with the wind that softly blew around you both. You had come as the sun was setting, dining and watching the sunset but as the dinner went on the sun long faded and the dark sky filled your desert with stars and a chill that ran up and down your spine, dressed a little too thin. 

“Hmm? Oh yeah, sorry.” You move to get up, pushing your chair back in before taking Langris’ hand letting him lead you out, opening every door for you and letting you through first making you feel like royalty. He walked toward a carriage waiting for you both but you waved off the driver and pulled Langris back. 

“Walk with me.” He looked stunned, almost pulling back from you before catching up, walking beside you and still looking questioning. Walking for minutes on end, Langris didn’t know where you were going, but he didn’t mind, he would follow you anywhere. It was when you shivered lightly while the harsh wind blew between you, shaking the trees around you, making the leaves swish a blow in an airy sound, did Langris speak. 

“Maybe we should head back soon, it’s getting pretty cold.” He didn’t ask but he didn't pull you away either instead continuing to follow as you pulled him to a little inn. You walked in and straight to the desk lady asking for one room, pulling out your own money before Langris could think of reaching for his, he was annoyed with that and rolled his eyes averting himself from you for a bit before walking with you again when you handed the key. 

“What about Lefric?” 

“He’s with Finral and Finesse tonight.” 

“Yeah, but Finral’s is an idi- ahem! Finral is... Finral.” He settled, taking the key from your hands gently and pulling up next to your room, unlocking the door and letting you in. 

“Finral is very much capable of taking care of Lefric and if not he has Finesse! They’ll be fine, they always are, and if they aren’t, they know just how to get a hold of us.” You spoke, slipping off your thin coat and beginning to drop useless jewelry onto the side table. You stopped for a second turning to find Langris in the door staring at the room, analyzing every inch meticulously. “What?” 

“What are we doing here?” He looked back over to you, suddenly you noticed the way he gripped the key, his eyes falling down your figure while you took your time to answer. Slowly you walked from the bedside table and sat on the bed taking off your heels promptly, and sitting back in the bed looking at Langris with just as much yearning as he did you. 

“I think I’ve left you waiting long enough,” You unclipped your dress from your back and shrugged it down, bunching it at your hips halting as you looked back up at him. Watching his face fall, eyes widen and devouring every inch of naked skin they could scour, falling on your bare breast with a shuddering breath. “don’t you think?” 

The door was slammed shut, you almost feared he broke the door frame almost waiting for the door to just swing back open but it held. Langris was on you in a second and suddenly you found yourself on your back, hands pulling your dress down your legs hastily. He pulled back taking a shuddering breath as he looked at you, watching you slide your legs open waiting for him to do something, anything. Becoming a little bashful with his long stare, your legs began to droop, almost falling closed but he caught them. 

“Don’t cover yourself, Honey, it’s been so long.” His voice ending in a high whine as he slipped onto the bed, arms wrapping under your legs to set them on his lithe shoulders. Langris turned to look back up at me finding my eyes. 

“Can I touch you?” you didn’t hesitate. 

“Please!” and neither did he.

#black clover #black clover oneshots #blackclover x reader #Langris Vaude #langris vaude x reader #langris x reader #smut #lime #nosmutwhoops #request #original #4kwords #wow #xreader #Female reader

[mimzy-writing-online]

I hope this question isn't too stupid, but you're one of my favorite writing blogs so I'll give it a shot. I want to write a FanFic based on the 1971 version of Willy Wonka. I wanted the story to tell Violet Beauregarde's story, the one that turns into a blueberry. However, I have SOME questions as I'm fairly new to FanFic. 1). Am I better off focusing on each kid's perspective, going back and forth? Or is it good to narrow my focus one one character? 2). Can I give them a character arch, li

(2/3) like Violet's really mean in school but she becomes kind after her experience at the factory. Is that too cliche or predictable? 3). Why does she try waddling away after her blueberry transformation and the Oompa Loompas are singing/dancing around her? They're trying to help her, and I don't really get why she'd do something like that. 4). What are tips to better understand the characters I want to flesh out? I guess it circles back to the last question, understanding their psyche. Yikes

(3/3)  Yikes! Super sorry this ask is long. And I'm even more sorry if my questions were lame or you've covered them before. :P. I can overthink at times, ESPECIALLY when it comes to my writing. I'm such a perfectionist storyteller, it's not even funny. I hope my questions aren't bothering you. You're one of my favorite writing blogs, so I figured I could come to you. I apologize in advance for wasting your time. You DO NOT have to reply at all if you don't want to. :P Thanks, have a great week

First and foremost: this is not a stupid question, you are not wasting my time at all. This is actually a rare treat for my blog because I don’t get many asks that don’t involve blindness, though I usually know better how to answer those than I do other questions. So, here we go:

Are you better off focusing on each kid’s perspective, going back and forth? Or is it better to narrow your focus onto one character?

The general rule of writing is to simplify. If two background characters serve a similar purpose, just combine the characters, for example. Slimming down extra scenes that don’t contribute to plot or character development.

However, that advice is meant for people publishing novels, working within an overflowing industry, dependant on sales and royalties. They have to meet whatever industry standards are, like word count or POV types. They have to find someone willing to take them on as a client because they love that book.

Fanfiction is not bound by such nonsense. Fanfiction is a beautifully lawless land where capitalism cannot influence it. What defines what you do with fanfiction is if you enjoy reading it, and if you have the steam to continue a long project.

Some people easily write 200,000k fics within a matter of weeks or months (or in my case, just once, two years). Some people work best with short fics. Both (and everything in between) are wonderful.

So, how much steam do you have for this project? How long do you think you can carry it and still finish it? Because that defines how big you should plan to make this project. If you don’t think you can write a long fic, then maybe just stick to one character.

A compromise between the two is to focus primarily on one character, and examine the other characters more briefly. This could be done in just a single POV chapter, or a handful. This could be done with the characters connecting and seeing the side character through your main character’s eyes, seeing how they’ve changed.

There’s no wrong answer. This fic is for your enjoyment primarily. No matter what you write, it will appeal to at least a few people, if not crowds. But your fun comes first, both literally and figuratively. Write for you, write to explore the story for yourself.

Can you give them a character arc like Violet’s where she becomes kinder after her experiences in the factory? Is that too cliche or predictable?

I wouldn’t call it predictable, because I’d expect everyone to go into completely different directions because they were all such unique and individual people before they entered the factory, and they were foiled by their own quirks.

Violet was mean and fake, she was demanding. I don’t know how much I want to speculate on the plotline you have going for her, how you’ll develop her to make her want to be more kind.

But I would love to speculate on the others.

Agustus Gloop? 

I feel like his experience in the chocolate river and almost drowning would make it hard to enjoy chocolate ever again. I think it would be a long time before he had any sweets. Also, because of his weight, I imagine there’s got to be some body-image issues hiding under the surface. I’d also put money on him being bullied, and him acting out against the students who bully him and because of his size he is more intimidating, but that doesn’t stop people from saying things behind his back.

I imagine the chocolate thing is a form of self-comfort. Maybe he turns to other foods to over-eat with to cope. Maybe eventually he figures out that this isn’t helping him. Does he try to replace unhealthy foods with healthier ones? (idk, I have a personal turn off on getting into the concept of dieting, so I’m not going to dig in much there).

I’d like to see him learn to love himself, develop some body neutrality, that his body doesn’t define who he is or what his worth is. That he becomes okay with who he is as he grows up. People who are happy and comfortable with themselves are generally nicer and easier going than people who aren’t. Maybe with some self-love, he’ll be kinder to others.

Veruca Salt?

Okay, I have a confession. My brain thought of her when discussing Violet. I haven’t seen either of the films in years.

Well, let’s thank Wikipedia everyone, the greatest gift of the internet.

Veruca does come across as a spoiled brat. Her parents shower her in material objects, which might mean something. I have a close friend who hates people buying things for him or giving him gifts that cost money. This has to do with a parent buying him things out of guilt after episodes of emotional abuse. I asked him a while back what he wanted for his birthday (I meant baked goods, I bake or cook special meals as birthday gifts for my friends. A has asked for chocolate chip cookies for three birthdays in a row now. Several friends ask for cookies for Christmas). Anyway, my friend had a panic attack and couldn’t respond until an hour later.

Maybe there’s something to that.

What does she think about money as she grows up? Does her love language continue to be gifts? I think it might one day be quality time. Maybe it is now. It’s common for rich parents to be absent and barely spend time with their kids because of work and extravagant social lives that sort of money gives them access to, meaning they barely have time in the day to spend with their kids. Maybe gifts are the only way she can make sure her parents still care, the only way she can get their attention? 

Mike Teavee?

Apparently in the movie credits his last name is spelled Teevee. But I’m obsessed with tea (and this is the point where I remember my tea and wonder if I’ve let it go cold because I got too focused. Nope, it’s still there). So it’s Teavee here.

Wikipedia describes him as a young boy who only watches TV, nothing but TV. He’s especially interested in cowboys and Western films. He comes across as a know-it-all. He’s easily annoyed but gets along with others.

Anyone have a guess at where I’m going with this?

Mike is neurodivergent. I mean, that’s my new headcanon. I lean towards ADHD because that’s what I project, but like everything else, his interpretation is in the eye of the beholder. Every viewer sees something different in him.

Some common ADHD (and autism) experiences beyond having a specific interest is how others react to your special interest. You get used to people getting bored when you talk about your interest for the thousandth time, but it’s still important to you, but not to someone whose opinion matters to you. RSD is probably common.

Wikipedia says he’s described as lazy in the books? Common ADHD “symptom,” or rather something that outside viewers label as laziness. Really, he just doesn’t have the motivation to do any of those other things.

And Charlie?

Did anyone think I wouldn’t have any thoughts on Charlie, our hero and protagonist?

Oh no, I have thoughts. Charlie goes to great lengths to set his family up comfortably, he becomes generous with his money. He also knows nothing about running a factory. I’m hoping Willy Wonka gives him some help there. But I bet adult Charlie is a stressed-out workaholic who tries to do everything and thinks he has something to prove, that he’s not just some random lucky child, that he can do this. Charlie totally gets a work-related anxiety disorder.

Those are my thoughts. I still think giving them Violet’s arc isn’t cliche or predictable, but rather completely different from what you think would happen to all those kids.

I mean, maybe a few of them are still little jerks in their adult lives. There’s no one road to grow up on, even if you’re four strangers who shared a similar traumatic experience.

Why does she try waddling away after her blueberry transformation and the Oompa Loompas are singing/dancing around her? They're trying to help her, and I don't really get why she'd do something like that.

They strange looking short men she’s literally never talked to, never seen or heard of before today, who’s already taken away two children by this point, all while singing a song about what terrible children they were.

And she’s scared because her body is doing something strange and scary and awful. She’s scared. She doesn’t know what to do. What will happen if these strange men take her away? She doesn’t know what happened to the other kids.

And they’re not really communicating they want to help, just singing cheerfully about how awful children are.

What are tips to better understand the characters I want to flesh out? I guess it circles back to the last question, understanding their psyche.

A lot of it is just watching real-life people and wondering why they are the way they are. Listening to their reasoning and what they tell you about who they are and where they come from.

I know people who grew up like Agustus with using over-eating as a way to self-comfort, and the bullying they experienced. I know that if a kid was physically bigger than his bullies, maybe he’d fight them to make them stop and leave him alone. People who go through that journey of learning that their body doesn’t define who they are, accepting it because it is theirs and it takes care of them.

(Which reminds me of a post I like that pops around here and there, that positive body image should be about more than how “sexy” your curves make you look. A person shouldn’t have to be sexy to be treated like a person. A person shouldn’t have to be sexy at all if they don’t want to, especially not all the time, and especially not a child. And there are a lot of obese children in the world who don’t have any positive body image messages designed for them)

I learned what my friend’s love languages are and why they have them and what they mean. Which is why I have that theory for Veruca.

Mike is just self-projection and listening to other neurodivergent people when they describe their life experiences or listening to their theories when they say a character is neurodivergent too.

I won’t lie, my theory on Charlie is based entirely on the Avatar: the Last Airbender fandom’s common head-canon that Zuko becomes a workaholic after he becomes Firelord. There might be some canon material in the comics that supports that, but I’ve never seen it. I think Zuko and Charlie have a similar vibe and that those three years Zuko struggled, and Charlie’s entire life before the factory make them both feel like they need to be perfect and do everything right to prove they deserve the job they’re given and that their backgrounds don’t define their worth.

Thank you so much for your ask anon!

And again, you are not a bother. I enjoyed digging into this movie I’d never thought in depth about until tonight. And you’re not alone, lots of writers are overthinkers and perfectionists. You are in good company. Our writing and fanfiction community welcomes and loves you <3

And thank you for your kind words! I’m so happy that you love my blog so much <3 It made my day to read that

Take care anon, and good luck in your writing :)

#writing advice #fanfiction #writeblr #anon #charlie and the chocolate factory #Anonymous

[ressarioth]

If you're still taking requests, I'd love to see something with older!Noct and the chocobros. I really wish we got more *time* to see their updated dynamic, after ten years apart. Bonus points for an older Cindy or Iris, since the game didn't give us anything beyond a mention of them.

Thank you for your patience. It’s been a challenge and a pleasure to write this.

At some point I decided to go all out, so you’re getting bonus Cindy, Iris and even Cor. Talcott gets a couple of mentions but no actual dialogue. 

There’s a lot more that could be explored with this request, but I put the focus on Noctis reuniting with his friends and preparing to head to Insomnia. I tried to stick close to canon, though I took some liberties. I hope that’s okay.

Please enjoy.

Warning for FFXV spoilers for anyone trying to avoid those. And it’s long, in case that puts anyone off. (We’re talking about almost 11k words.)

[Requests currently closed.]

Ten years. Noctis tries to let it sink in, but it doesn’t register. The world is engulfed in darkness, daemons have spread across the land, Talcott is no longer a kid — that much he can see. What he struggles with is comprehending the extent of it. To him it’s like barely any time has passed since he entered the crystal. He learnt the truth about his fate, he reflected upon his life and the people he met, yet it all felt like mere moments. Then he woke up in a body which he didn’t witness aging.

Noctis leaves most of the talking to Talcott while trying to absorb the information being given to him. It sounds like a tale of some distant world. As much as he can see the state Eos is in, he cannot grasp how all of it affects the everyday lives of people. It’s not that he cannot picture Iris as a full fledged daemon hunter, it’s that he cannot see her having grown out of the sweet teenage girl he used to know. It’s not that he cannot picture Ignis fighting blind, it’s that he doesn’t want Ignis to fight alone. In fact, all his friends seem to have split up and it worries him.

The letter Umbra delivered to Noctis said that they were all waiting for his return and it was a comforting thought as he had woken up in a world of darkness swarmed with daemons. But now he’s starting to doubt. How long ago did Gladio write the letter and have Prompto and even Ignis sign it? How long did they all wait for his return before they started to lose hope? The idea of each of his friends alone out there troubles him. If they were together they could not only support each other in battle but also remind each other to have faith in his return.

That’s not the only thing disconcerting Noctis, however. After all the journeying they did together — from Insomnia throughout the land until they eventually made it to Altissia and Gralea became their final destination — he came to think of them as a unit, a group of friends sticking to each other’s side through countless trials and adventures. Yet it seems to have fallen apart in his absence, as if it all meant nothing without him. He’d never given it much thought before, but now he wonders if he was the glue holding them together.

So what will become of them once Noctis is gone for good? He doesn’t want to think about it.

A burst of fire lightens up the night not far away from the street, the small flames lingering and licking at the ground. Noctis leans over to the window, squinting through the smoke of vanishing daemons at a dark figure standing in the middle of the mayhem. Tall and lean, they could have been anyone if he didn’t make out the familiar flicker of two daggers disappearing into nothingness. At least he thinks that’s what he saw and it’s enough of a hint to get his hopes up.

“Stop the car!” Noctis instructs Talcott who slows down the small truck as asked.

The tires barely stand still when Noctis pushes open the door and jumps out of the seat. In a half-jog he approaches the lonely hunter, expecting someone he recognises. There’s the hair, its colour hard to distinguish beneath the cover of night, sticking up less stiff and spiky than he remembers. But when he makes out the glasses on the familiar profile he knows for sure.

“Ignis!”

The man turns, his head moving around in small and quick motions as if he’s trying to determine the exact direction from which he heard his name. Noctis slows his steps, ignoring the flames still flickering on the ground, then stops barely an arm’s length away from Ignis. Seeing his childhood friend and caretaker again is the first time he feels something akin to relief since who knows how long. The joy is dulled a little by the old feelings of guilt at the thought of Ignis losing eyesight because of him.

“I’m right in front of you,” Noctis says, giving Ignis the chance to ascertain his position and face him.

“Noct?” Ignis asks, voice raspy from either lack of use or from emotion — Noctis can only speculate. “Is that you?”

“Yes, it’s me.”

Hands reach out to Noctis. They find his palms, then go up his arms until they feel the structure of his face. Though he isn’t used to the procedure he stands still and lets it happen. If it allows Ignis to recognise him, to make sure that it’s him, then he’ll gladly give Ignis the chance.

“I can’t say I’m familiar with how your face feels,” Ignis admits to the pointlessness of his inspection, although his fingers linger on Noctis’s scruffy cheeks for a moment. “Might I suggest, however, that you shave at the next possible opportunity — or is the beard part of a new look I’m not aware of?”

Noctis chuckles: “I don’t know yet, I literally woke up like this not long ago.”

“Oversleeping like always? I should be surprised if it was any other way.”

Ignis always had a dry sense of humour and Noctis considered himself familiar enough with him to easily tell when he’s joking. But right now Noctis isn’t so sure and wishes there was something in his voice to hint at a jest. It would go along with the tease about the beard yet Noctis is too aware of how much time he took to return to consider the topic as anything but loaded with difficult emotions.

“I hear it’s been ten years.” Noctis can only offer an apology. “I’m sorry to have kept you waiting this long.”

“Has it been ten years?” Ignis questions as if he lost track of time himself. Then he adds quietly: “It felt longer than that.”

Something inside Noctis threatens to break like Ignis’s voice during that last sentence. In his chest rises a desire to cry, but he isn’t ready to give himself over to the feeling. Forgetting that Ignis might want a warning, Noctis pulls him into a hug. Stiff at first, he lets it happen and even returns the embrace albeit with some reservation.

“It’s good to see you again,” Noctis mutters.

“I should say the same, but…” Ignis trails off, yet there’s no trace of sorrow Noctis can detect in his voice.

A croaked laugh escapes Noctis’s throat. It’s a reflexive response to Ignis making light of his blindness, but in truth Noctis doesn’t feel like laughing at all. His chest is filled with anguish over all the things he cannot change. Why did it have to turn out like this? He holds on to Ignis letting the seconds pass, wishing to prolong the reunion. They didn’t even have a proper goodbye before he got pulled into the crystal and he feels like he has to catch up on all the time he wasn’t around.

As if sensing that Noctis is unwilling to let go just yet, Ignis is careful as he pulls out of the embrace and — albeit reluctant — Noctis complies and releases him. The flames on the ground have died down and the street is too far away for the truck’s headlights to illuminate the area around them. Noctis remembers the torch lights they used to wear while exploring at night.

Once he summoned and turned on his light, Noctis is able to get a better look at his old friend. To Ignis it must make no difference, he’s in the darkness regardless, the remaining scars of his injury from ten years ago barely faded. He never talked about how it happened and Noctis was unable to address the guilt. The feelings linger, yet Noctis remains tongue tied as Ignis pushes up the darkened glasses hiding his eyes. They make him appear more closed off than Noctis remembers him being.

“Did you…just arrive?” Ignis’s inquiry feels like an attempt to fill the silence between them with anything but the things he truly wants to say.

“Yeah. Talcott came across me outside of Galdin Quay. We were just on our way to Hammerhead.”

“I see.”

Ignis grows silent with a thought he doesn’t share. It nurtures an uneasy feeling in the pit of Noctis’s stomach. To disperse it, he proposes: “Let’s go there together. The truck might be too small for all of us, but it’s not much further. You and I can walk.”

“The roads are dangerous, daemons are unbound in the dark. You just returned, there’s no need to exhaust yourself with fighting already.”

It’s just like Ignis to be concerned and put Noctis’s wellbeing first. He gives a smile which Ignis is unable to see and puts his hand on Ignis’s shoulder. “I rested for ten years, a little fighting won’t wear me out. Besides, I’ve got you by my side.”

“Very well,” Ignis agrees and Noctis detects the hint of a smile on his lips. “Let’s go.”

It feels good to be with Ignis again, to have him watch Noctis’s back during battle like in the times before his eye injury. Noctis admires how he can move as fluently as he used to when he could see his enemy. Nothing is left of the clumsiness with which he navigated the battlefield on their journey to Gralea. It must have taken a lot of training and sharpening his other senses to achieve this. Seeing him back in control makes Noctis almost feel at ease.

They sent Talcott to drive ahead, so it’s no surprise that the people at Hammerhead are expecting them when they arrive. Noctis scans the faces turning towards him in search for his other friends. Here and there a few are familiar ones but none of them belong to whom he’s looking for. He cannot help but be a little disappointed.

“Howdy.” A voice calls out to him and though the last time Noctis heard it was before he set out for Altissia, he still remembers it well. He turns around and finds Cindy waving at him from the garage. She’s still wearing the red hat over her blonde curls, but otherwise has switched to yellow overalls with some orange stripes and dark smears and spots of dirt all over.

“Hey Cindy, nice new look,” Noctis comments as he approaches her.

Cindy wipes her hands off on a rag which appears dirtier than her outfit. “I’d like to say the same thing to you, Your Highness, but I think you could use at least a trim and a haircut.”

“And a change of clothes.” Noctis smiles, looking down on himself at the combination of leather pants and jacket over a black shirt with skulls. Even though they still fit his body it feels like he’s mentally outgrown the clothes from his early twenties.

As she stuffs the cloth into her pocket, Cindy notes in her cheerful tone: “I wasn’t gonna say it.”

Ignis steps up beside Noctis and exchanges a brief greeting with her before asking: “Is Prompto around?”

“Should be on his way with a delivery for me,” Cindy explains and heads back into the garage. Noctis has the presence of mind to put his hand on Ignis’s shoulder and prompting him to come along before following her. She is leaning over the open hood of the car standing there by the time she continues: “I tried to call him when Talcott brought the news of your return, but he didn’t pick up. Probably busy on the road, so I left him a message.”

“Thank you,” Noctis feels obligated to say.

He remembers having a cellphone of his own — the knowledge temporarily slipped his mind while he was trying to process all the new information — and starts searching his pockets. When he cannot find it he tries summoning it and indeed the device appears in his hand, the screen exhibiting some cracks. It was bound to take damage eventually, though he cannot remember when he last held it in his hand and if it was already in this state then. He tries to start it up, but it doesn’t respond. Either it’s out of battery or dead for good.

Cindy takes notice of Noctis trying to revive his phone. “I believe Talcott got in touch with Iris.”

“Then I’m sure Gladio will receive the news as well,” Ignis suggests and Noctis would agree.

“Looks like we’ll only have to wait for them to arrive.”

“Are you hungry? We could have lunch in the meantime?”

Is it noon? Since it was dark when Noctis arrived, it felt like the middle of the night to him. He realises that it’s going to be hard to get a sense of time without the sun as an indicator — or the moon and stars for that matter. There isn’t a single celestial body visible in the sky, like it’s overhung with dark black clouds that block out any light from above.

“Are you gonna whip up something nice for us?” Noctis wants to know. He would certainly be up for tasting some of Ignis’s cooking.

“I’m afraid not,” Ignis responds and Noctis feels bad for being so thoughtless. Just because he’s able to hold his own in battle doesn’t mean that he can still do everything the way he used to. “I’m fresh out of ingredients, but I’ll make sure to stock up. For now let us eat at the diner.”

As Ignis leads the way out of the garage, Noctis waves in farewell to Cindy and catches up to him with swift steps. “So you do still cook?”

“Of course,” Ignis confirms with a smile.

“I’m glad to hear that.”

Outside, Ignis heads right towards the diner and though Noctis is concerned about steering him around obstacles, he seems to have developed a sixth sense for navigating the area on his own without a cane. Noctis is tempted to ask how he does it, yet hesitant to bring up his blindness. There’s not enough time for Noctis to make up his mind, however, before they get interrupted.

“Noct!” The familiar voice calling out makes Noctis halt in his tracks. He looks around to find Prompto jogging towards him. That was faster than he could have hoped; Prompto must have been close by already.

Noctis takes a step towards Prompto, but not more because by then Prompto has reached him. The most notable change about his old school friend is the goatee. Otherwise Prompto feels much like the young man Noctis remembers. His features may have matured a little, but he still moves with a slight bounce in his step as if to expend excessive energy. As he begins circling and inspecting Noctis, Noctis turns along, feeling put on the spot.

“It’s really you,” Prompto notes and takes a step closer. He pats Noctis’s shoulder only to retreat again as if he doesn’t dare to get too close.

“That’s right, I’m back.” Noctis watches Prompto as he bounces on the balls of his feet. “Didn’t think I’d make it?”

Prompto bites his bottom lip and looks down. Noctis cannot blame him for having had doubts, the decade of uncertainty must have taken its toll on everyone. He wants to apologise for bringing it up, but even more so for how long it took him to return. Of all the trials he thought he was going to face on his way to Insomnia, he didn’t expect the reunion with his friends who remained in this world caught between hope and doubt to be one of them. “I’m sorry to have kept you waiting.”

There’s a small shake of Prompto’s head as he looks up and he blinks a few times too many. Noctis cannot stand the reservation anymore and pulls him into a hug. Prompto holds on tight, his arms draped over Noctis’s shoulders and his body swaying almost too little to notice. Noctis gives him a light pat on the back and Prompto rests his face in the crook of his arm. A small tremor runs through his body and he takes in a sharp breath followed by a few shaky attempts to exhale. Noctis isn’t sure if he’s crying or still just about able to hold it in.

Prompto cannot hide his feelings the way Ignis does and Noctis is tempted to succumb to tears as well. He pushes it all down — the sadness over how his friends must have felt without him, the dread over what’s to come. He cannot think about it, the prospect of it all more terrifying now than it seemed to him in the mystical light inside the crystal. His heart feels like it’s about to fall apart, the pieces hanging on by a few threads holding them together. He gives himself a moment to regain his composure and then pulls away.

“Good to see you,” Noctis offers, keeping his voice from sounding hoarse as much as possible. Prompto gives a smile, lips thin as he presses them together, still trying to hold his emotions in check. To take further control of the situation, Noctis invites Prompto to join in on lunch with him and Ignis. Prompto takes the cue and plays along, brushing off the feelings he was fighting.

“Maybe you’ll also want to shower,” Prompto suggests. “You look like a couple of daemons played ball with you in the dirt.”

“Well, that won’t do,” Ignis chimes in. “Had I realised you were in such a desolate state, I would have suggested the shower at once.”

Though Noctis can imagine the fighting on the way here got a little dirt on him, he wants to object to Prompto’s analogy. However, he realises that he may have been in a bit of a messy state already when he came to. Technically he spent ten whole years in the same clothes without washing, though he was in the crystal as far as he’s aware and time seemed to flow differently in there — he isn’t sure how it all works. It might be best to get the cleaning up over with, even though he’s starting to feel hungry.

Noctis complies to the request of his friends and goes through the logistics like organising a spare set of clothes. The benefit of storing most of their luggage in the same magical space as their weapons is that they can summon it wherever. The only risk is that they don’t know what would become of it were Noctis to die and the magic to fade: would everything become inaccessible or would it show up somewhere in this world, albeit maybe scattered? The thought leaves a bitter taste in Noctis’s mouth and he chases it away.

While Noctis makes himself presentable, Prompto is off to hand his delivery to Cindy. Ignis didn’t announce any plans and Noctis didn’t ask, but he’s not surprised when Ignis awaits him outside the washing facilities for the nearby caravans. It’s familiar to have Ignis around like that, keeping in the background when not needed, but always ready to be by his side when required.

“Might I ask—” Ignis wants to know after Noctis announced his return— “did you shave?”

Noctis laughs. “Did the beard feel that terrible?”

“Not necessarily, but when Cindy commented on it, I realised that my fingers may have misjudged the calamity of it.”

“Maybe I should have kept it then. If it was as disastrous as you make it sound it may have worked to scare off some daemons.”

“The price would be too high to even consider it.”

Noctis smiles and doesn’t respond, knowing fully well that his silence means his admission of defeat. The banter puts him a little more at ease, however, so he doesn’t mind the outcome. Back in the shower he was all by himself and his thoughts could wander unchecked towards the inevitable. He welcomes the distraction from it.

“I got a call from Gladio,” Ignis changes the topic. “He met up with Iris and Cor and they should arrive within minutes.”

“I guess lunch will have to wait a little longer then,” Noctis proposes and Ignis doesn’t object, though he takes the lead towards the diner. It’s where they agreed to meet up with Prompto who is already awaiting them, presumably having concluded his business with Cindy.

As Prompto catches sight of them, he calls out: “Not growing out the beard after all?”

“Maybe next time,” Noctis suggests when coming to a halt in front of Prompto, even though he’s aware it won’t come to that. It’s knowledge he wants to keep from his friends for now, he doesn’t want it to overshadow their reunion. To gloss over the gloominess that threatens to take hold of him, he questions Prompto: “So, you’re Cindy’s delivery boy now?”

“Something like that.” Prompto laughs, appearing more at ease than upon his arrival. Whether he feels as carefree as he acts, Noctis doesn’t want to guess. “It’s no big deal.”

“No big deal, huh?”

“Well, sometimes we have a beer together after work. I guess you could say we’re friends.”

“Friends — that’s all?”

“There’s nothing to it, buddy.” Another laugh escapes Prompto’s lips and Noctis isn’t sure if it’s nervous or incredulous. “Why are you so hung up on it?”

To Noctis it seems strange that Prompto would downplay it after all the pining. “It’s just that I remember you having a real soft spot for her.”

“I had, and then I grew out of it, that sort of thing happens over the course of a decade.”

“Oh right.” Noctis scratches his head at the reminder of how much time passed since they started their journey from Insomnia. “I keep forgetting it’s been that long.”

Prompto’s eyes grow wider. “Didn’t you realise how much time was passing?”

“No,” Noctis confirms. “Inside the crystal it felt like mere moments — or maybe that’s wrong. It was more like time didn’t exist at all.”

“Woah, really?” Prompto shifts his weight back and forth between his feet. “Then how come you’re looking older?”

Noctis gives a shrug, because there’s nothing he can say on the matter. “Beats me.”

Nearby, Ignis is keeping his thoughts to himself. He’s standing a little apart from them, face giving no indication of whether he’s following their conversation. Noctis cannot shake the thought that he’s carrying some troubles which he doesn’t share — because he never reveals those things. He wouldn’t want to be a burden to others, that’s at least how Noctis has come to understand his behaviour and Noctis struggled to break through those walls. Even now Noctis is uncertain about how to reach out to him. Maybe if they were alone…

“Well, if it isn’t the king.”

Noctis looks past Ignis to see who has spoken and his gaze falls upon Gladio, upper hair tied back and beard more prominent, but his old friend nonetheless. Following Gladio are Cor and what must be Iris and he steps forward to greet all three of them. Gladio scrutinises him from top to bottom as they meet and then notes: “You sure kept us waiting.”

“I’m sorry,” Noctis responds, feeling a little timid in front of the taller man. The apology is starting to get stale in his mouth, but there’s nothing else he can add.

Back in the day, Gladio voiced the most criticism of Noctis, putting his ability to be king in question. Even now he feels the doubts creeping back into his mind as if he was still the twenty year old prince struggling to do what is expected of him. The years he missed during which his body aged but his mind was stuck in reflection may be coming back to bite him.

Though Noctis gained insight and maturity, he didn’t get any new experiences to cement that. He doesn’t know how to be confident in himself when he didn’t get the chance to confirm his growth. He feels stuck between the person he used to be and the one he’s trying to become and it’s Gladio’s presence that makes him realise this more than anything else.

The awareness makes Noctis hesitant. Is he really able to live up to all these expectations? Will his friends believe in him? The road lying ahead isn’t an easy one and yet he’s starting to falter already as he’s looking at Gladio, unsure of how to greet him.

Noctis tries to hold the anxiety in the pit of his stomach at bay, but it continues to tell him that he doesn’t know how Gladio feels about him and the man might as well reject him again for whatever reason — maybe because it took him so long to return. He can no longer say if Gladio’s first words weren’t spoken in mockery and it’s making him paranoid even though reason tells him that he’s imagining things.

While Noctis is caught up in his own mind, Gladio closes the distance and embraces him, arms wrapping tightly around his back. For a moment he thinks it’s pressing all the air out of his lungs and keeping him from inhaling fresh one, before he realises that he has been holding his breath. He releases the pent up air, reminding himself how to breathe.

“Welcome back,” Gladio mutters in a low tone and Noctis almost misses the crack in his voice. The heart inside Noctis’s chest contracts in pain as he returns the hug.

“Yeah,” Noctis responds, just above a whisper. He doesn’t know what else to say, but he can feel the anxiety retreating as Gladio holds on to him and pats his shoulder blade.

There is something that Gladio doesn’t say and he cannot put his finger on it, but he can feel it in the firm grasp of Gladio’s hands: a devotion he had never thought about much before. Gladio was simply there — first as his fighting instructor, then as his friend. He never questioned why Gladio decided to follow him, but it occurs to him that he may have underestimated the meaning of Gladio’s choice.

They part in silence and exchange a nod before Noctis turns to Cor. The marshal comes towards him, face furrowed with more and deeper lines, and puts a hand on his shoulder. Cor’s greeting — “It’s good to see you, Your Majesty” — he acknowledges in likeness.

Last there is Iris, no longer the teenager recounting the events of Insomnia’s fall or taking him on a tour through Lestallum, but a young woman. Her brown hair is tied back in a long ponytail that reaches beyond her shoulder blades. She kept the fringe, though it’s covering her entire forehead now. Noctis cannot make out most of the details of her outfit in the scarce light, but he notices that she exchanged the skirt he remembers her wearing for a pair of dark pants.

“Look at you, all grown up,” he notes with a smile.

Iris returns the gesture and it has a sad touch — or he may be imagining things with the light from the diner casting dark shadows on everyone’s face. When they hug he notices that she has less difficulty to wrap her arms around his neck, though she’s still swaying on the tips of her toes. She must have grown a little in his absence, because he no longer has to bend down to meet her halfway.

Once they part there’s a moment in which Noctis doesn’t know what to say. So much to take in — so much that happened or changed since they last saw each other. Somehow he always wanted to keep her out of everything the most — as Gladio’s little sister she’s like family to him, too — yet now she is a daemon hunter, putting her life on the line on a daily basis. While he was inside the crystal, she watched Eos grow dark and be overrun by terror. It isn’t fair. Nothing in this world is.

Iris takes the initiative and asks: “What’s the matter with your hair?”

“Oh, it grew out a bit,” Noctis explains and runs his fingers through the dark strands he brushed back after his shower. “I’m not really sure what to do with it yet.”

“Hold on.” Iris starts searching her pockets and then presents him with what looks like a small strap to him. “Here. Try tying it together.”

“Thanks.” Noctis accepts what he now realises is a hair tie from her and tries to put her suggestion into action. It’s a bit of a clumsy process and it feels like at least half of his hair is slipping from his grip, but he manages to fixate the rest into a ponytail at the base of his head.

“Dashing,” Prompto comments and pats him on his shoulder.

“Yeah, not bad,” Iris agrees, seeming rather pleased.

“Thanks,” Noctis chuckles. Then, becoming aware that his stomach has started to feel like a black hole, he adds: “Now, who’s hungry?”

“Oh, finally!” Prompto exclaims and makes his way up the stairs of the diner. “I’m starving.”

“For someone who’s starving you seem to have a lot of energy left,” Gladio notes in good humour and heads after him. He’s followed by Iris who casts a quick glance over her shoulder but says nothing further.

Cor for his part seems less concerned with food as he notes: “Very well, we have a lot to discuss.”

Noctis gives the marshal a nod in response before he turns towards Ignis who hasn’t said a single thing since they stopped in front of the diner. Pushing his concerns about it aside, he places his hand on Ignis’s shoulder. “Let’s go.”

If Noctis could have his way, he’d catch up with his friends over a good meal. He’d love to hear what everyone has been doing while he was away. Though the circumstances of his absence might give their tales an unpleasant undertone, at least he’d get to talk to them again without having to think of his duty all the time.

Yet his fate is inescapable even in the company of his trusted comrades. Noctis anticipated their interest in what happened to him, he just hopes it could wait a little longer — a sentiment that isn’t shared by anyone as he soon finds out. Until they’ve placed their orders, no one strikes up a long-lasting conversation. As soon as Takka is walking off away from their booth, however, Prompto leans across the table towards Noctis.

“So what was it like inside that crystal? You said time didn’t exist there?” The question must’ve been on his mind since Noctis mentioned the irregular way time seemed to pass inside the crystal. Maybe he was wondering for even longer what was happening to Noctis while they were apart.

“It didn’t?” Iris voice holds surprise. She took the place next to Prompto and is currently squeezed in between him and her brother. Noctis imagines it looked similar while she was riding with them in the car all those years ago. “So you couldn’t even tell how long you were inside it?”

Noctis puts away the menu. With all the information about what he missed, he shrugged off his wonder at how time functions inside the crystal. Now that the question is brought up, he doesn’t have much of a response. “Well, yeah.”

“Who cares about that.” Gladio sounds impatient as he interrupts. “More importantly, what happened while you were there?”

The curiosity in the eyes of Iris and Prompto becomes piercing as if they could extract information just by looking at Noctis. It puts him on the spot and he realises that he isn’t ready. Though he knew he would have to share what the Draconian revealed to him, he neglected to mentally prepare himself. How much can he reveal without saying too much?

“I would like to know as well,” the marshal adds in his composed voice. The pressure on Noctis is big enough, one more person showing interest doesn’t make much of a difference. Ignis alone remains silent, perched on the bench between Cor and Noctis.

“Well…” Noctis looks down at the table and takes a moment to choose his words. “I met Bahamut. He told me I was the King of Kings, chosen to deliver Eos from the darkness.”

It’s weird to say it out loud. Somehow it makes what he learned in the crystal sink in; somehow it still feels surreal. After all those years of questioning how fit he was to be king the Astral’s words left no doubt about it: It has to be Noctis, no one else can take his place.

Preoccupied with his own thoughts, it is with delay that Noctis becomes aware of the silence which has engulfed the table. When he raises his head he finds several pairs of eyes staring at him. He takes in the expressions of Prompto and Iris who look at him as if they’re seeing him in a new light. Even Gladio shows a hint of astonishment. His vision of Cor is blocked by Ignis who continues to face forward. Noctis figures that for Ignis it makes no difference in which direction he looks.

“The King of Kings…,” Iris whispers with a hint of awe. It makes Noctis uncomfortable. He never wanted to be admired.

“I knew what we got into was big,” Prompto notes, “but that it was this big…”

“Yeah,” is all that Noctis can respond and the table falls quiet again. The tension prickles on his skin and makes his hair stand on edge. The truth about the sacrifice the chosen King has to make buzzes in his head, wanting to be spilled like a glass of acid. It will etch away the joy of their reunion and overshadow the thoughts of his friends on top of his own.

Noctis doesn’t want that to happen, so he holds it in. It places him in the middle of a minefield which he has to navigate with care. One misstep — one thoughtless phrasing — and it could all blow up in his face.

“What about Ardyn?” Ignis speaks up for the first time. “Did the Draconian say anything about him?”

It breaks Noctis out of his nervous deliberations and he’s thankful for that. The sooner they get through the exposition over what he has to do, the sooner they can be done with this topic. There’s not much distraction he can hope for from now until his death, but not having to talk about his duty is easier than dodging part of the truth.

Noctis keeps his summary of what he learned about Ardyn brief. How the man became the Usurper and what Noctis has to do to stop him — he relays it without mentioning the blood price which must be paid. The self-sacrifice he has to make to obtain the power to end it all remains unspoken and threatens to choke him. He puts his hand to his mouth and feigns a cough. No one comments, busy as they must be processing the information he has shared.

“So we deal with Ardyn and this whole thing will be over?” Gladio is the first to share his conclusion and when he puts it like that it sounds simple. If you strip away all the matters of how and why then that’s what it most likely comes down to.

The hardest part is letting go the prospect of his future, a life with his friends. But Gladio doesn’t know about that, none of them do. Noctis keeps up the charade despite how it hurts. “Yeah, pretty much.”

“Now that’s what I call good news.” Gladio’s tone is easy-going, as if they were talking about camping. Noctis can only speculate if part of it is a front. “How tough can dealing with one man be?”

It’s not that tough, as long as Noctis is prepared to give his life. He still struggles with the thought, puts it off. Gladio’s optimism is tainted by this knowledge that he isn’t sharing. He doesn’t comment on it. It’s best not to draw attention to the secret weighing on his chest.

“We shouldn’t underestimate him, however,” Ignis points out. His tone is unemotional as he goes over the facts. “The last time we encountered Ardyn he didn’t get scratched by our attacks. If what Bahamut told Noct is true then he may not only be a formidable foe, but we may have to leave the fighting to Noct.”

“And have him face Ardyn all by himself? No way!” Prompto sounds displeased.

Noctis appreciates the concern, but he doubts there’ll be a way around a duel between him and Ardyn. Before he can say so, however, Cor speaks up: “Let’s worry about that once we get there. First we have to get through Insomnia which is probably infested with daemons.”

They know the Crown City is where the Usurper awaits. Noctis mentioned as much, so he isn’t surprised at the marshal making plans. What he wonders about is the choice of words. “Probably infested with daemons?”

“No one has been there since its fall,” Ignis explains. “We can only assume the state the Crown City is in. It is likely, however, that the daemons have taken it over and with no one there to hunt them their numbers might be higher than anywhere else.”

“I see.” It makes sense, of course. Noctis isn’t sure what he expected. Ten years is a lot of time to try to reclaim the city, but then why would anyone have bothered? It didn’t have relevance to people surviving their everyday lives. Until now.

“I will organise the remains of the Crowns Guard and the Hunters.” Cor sounds prepared for a full operation. Maybe he’s been thinking about strategies even before Noctis’s return. “We’ll sweep the place, clear it out so you can make it to the Citadel with ease.”

“No!”

His objection earns Noctis a few shocked gazes and everyone seems stunned silent. Gladio frowns and even Cor takes a minute before managing a “Beg your pardon?” in his bafflement.

The truth is that Noctis wants as few people involved as possible. Death lies ahead, he knows that better than anyone, but he wants his life to be the last and only sacrifice in this fight. Too many people have suffered the consequences of Ardyn’s grudge. If he gets a say in just one thing as he’s headed towards his predetermined fate, then he’s going to make sure that no one else dies with him.

Noctis could try to explain that while dodging around the full extent of what he’s shouldering. Maybe his friends would accept his wishes, maybe Cor would relent — or they could question him and argue against his decision. He hasn’t been back with them for long enough to make an accurate prediction. He’s not going to take his chances though. As much as he wants to meet them on eye level as a friend, he rises to the role of king.

“I only have to face Ardyn at the Citadel and I trust Gladio, Ignis, and Prompto to get me there.” When Noctis speaks it is with composure and confidence. “Taking care of all the daemons can wait till after Ardyn’s defeat.”

“What?!” Iris looks at him with wide eyes. “You’re setting out alone again?”

Her protest comes unexpected. A decade ago she waved them off at Cape Caem with a smile on her face. Though Noctis could tell she didn’t like parting ways, she let them go without arguing. But back then she was a teenage girl and now she’s a young woman. It seems he has to get used to what that means.

Noctis keeps up the calm facade he thinks befitting of his position. His face remains blank while he debates what would be the best response. Part of him wishes for her to relent if he holds her gaze long enough without budging. He doubts that’s going to work, though.

“And you’re okay with this?” Iris turns to the rest of the group for support. Her gaze wanders clockwise around the table, starting with her brother and ending with Prompto where she lingers.

Under the pressure of her attention, Prompto bites his lips. Noctis catches a glimpse of him wringing his hands before hiding them in his lap. His discomfort is palpable, though Noctis isn’t sure if it’s the plan itself that bothers him or that Iris is fixated on him.

Noctis cannot blame Iris for projecting her hope for support on Prompto. He appears to be the only one besides her who displays a degree of displeasure at the current conversation. The rest of the party at the table is masking their feelings. Though a faint shadow has entered Gladio’s gaze, his expression is resolute. Cor remains quiet outside of Noctis’s field of vision and Ignis’s face is as neutral as it has been since entering the diner. None of them share what they’re thinking, but if they disagree with anything that Noctis said they’re holding it in.

Eventually Gladio breaks the sinister silence. He puts a hand on the shoulder of his sister and offers a confident smile. The cheer in his voice just about matches his expression. “Leave it to us. We’ll get Noct there and back again. You’ll see.”

She’ll see that no matter how big of an army marches into Insomnia, for Noctis it is always going to be a one-way trip. The thought rises up like bile in Noctis’s throat. He swallows it down with the bitterness that threatens to engulf his tongue. If he wants to keep the truth about his fate to himself, he cannot let his feelings coat his words. It won’t change anything about the facts either way. The battle ahead isn’t one of numbers and can only be decided by him — that is the burden he must bear.

Realising that she’s overruled, Iris presses her lips into a thin line and lets herself slump into her seat. Gladio’s hand slips of her hanging shoulder and Noctis feels another crack in his heart. He has to avert his eyes from the sight, tells himself that he wasn’t going to plead with her. He cannot afford to be swayed by her disappointment. His closest companions are falling in line with his decision, whatever doubts they might hide in the back of their minds. The only one left he has to make sure to convince is the marshal.

Noctis leans forward to get a view of the man who has folded his hands on the table and seems to be contemplating what has been proposed. Ten years ago he sent Noctis on a quest to retrieve the Armiger and reclaim the throne — a quest that Noctis is about to complete. Cor demanded that Noctis step up to the heritage of his father and was willing to leave the rest to him. Now is the time to see if the man still stands by that.

“Very well.” When Cor speaks he meets Noctis’s gaze, the years of his experience reflected in his eyes. “As the king decrees.”

The words sting. They remind Noctis that he’s forcing his will upon his friends, even if that wasn’t the marshal’s intention. He tries not to let the displeasure show on his face. It doesn’t befit the king he’s trying to be. He’s getting his wish, he cannot worry about the price.

Preparations shouldn’t take long — for the most part they have to check their weapons and stock up on supplies. Noctis is the only one who bothers going through his utilities since he hasn’t used most of them in a decade. Ignis advised against rushing things and enforced that they would take some time to rest as well. They agreed to camp at the haven closest to the border of Insomnia which leaves them with the shortest distance to cover in the morning.

To Noctis it doesn’t matter at what hour they set out. It’s dark whether it’s noon or midnight. He would even travel at night and work his way towards the Citadel in one go, though Ignis might be right that he shouldn’t needlessly push himself. The confrontation with Ardyn won’t be easy and they’ll have to fight their way through daemons to get there. Besides, it gives him a little more time with his friends before the end.

Noctis disliked packing for the journey ten years ago, but it was also coupled with clearing out his apartment and moving all his things back to the Citadel. In this case he just has to go through his luggage and see if anything needs to be replaced. He decides not to bother getting new razor blades, because his beard is taken care of for the rest of his life. It’s a strange thought, grim.

“Wow, that’s a lot of stuff.” Noctis looks up from his luggage to see who has spoken and finds Iris approaching him with slow steps. “Makes it look like you’re going on another big journey.”

“It’s just everything from the last trip, I doubt I’ll need all of it.” Noctis gives a small smile to ease her worries, trying not to think of the what awaits him at the end of the road. “The way home will be much shorter.”

Iris stops beside him, still having an air of hesitation about her. It’s likely that she has lingering feelings about the plan, but tries not to bring the topic up again. “The last time we parted ways I didn’t get to see you for a whole decade.”

“Yeah, and I’m sorry about that,” Noctis replies, understanding that it must have been hard on her. He wishes he could offer more, because with each apology he utters the words feel less meaningful. “But I think I’m repeating myself.”

A gentle chuckle escapes Iris’s lips before she notes: “It’s fine.”

There’s a pause where neither of them speaks and Noctis zips close the bag he was checking. With this everything is set and the dread of making his goodbyes is creeping up on him. What do you say before you’re heading off to your death? He’s been pushing the thought away, but he’s running out of time. His fingers feel fidgety on the zipper of his bag, tempted to pull it back open just to have something to do.

“Let me come with you.”

The request stuns Noctis into silence. His fingers freeze up before they slip off the zipper. When he turns to look at Iris he finds that a fierceness has flared up in her eyes which matches her resolute tone. It overwhelms him.

“Whatever it is that you have to do,” she continues, “I want to be there. I want to help in any way I can.”

Noctis’s first instinct is to say no. He cannot get the young girl out of his mind who ran into his arms with tears in her eyes after getting lost. A girl he wanted to protect since that day — not only because her older brother is his friend and was always resolute about keeping her out of harm’s way. Yet here she is in front of him, a young woman who has learned to fend for herself. The youthful features from the last time he saw her have matured and speak of more experience.

The desire to keep Iris away from the upcoming battle is not about her age or capability. Just looking at her, Noctis realises that he cannot use that as a pretence. It’s his selfishness that makes him want to get as few people involved as possible. It would just mean one more person to keep in the dark as he’s preparing for his end…

“There you are.” Gladio’s voice drowns out Noctis’s speechlessness. He turns to find his friend approaching and his guilt is pushed aside by a brief glimpse of relief. “Are you ready to go?”

“Yes, I made sure I have everything I need.” Noctis feels terrible using this as a way out of the conversation. The other options he can think of, he likes even less.

Gladio stops next to Noctis and pats him on the shoulder. “Time to say goodbye then and hit the road.” His gaze falls upon Iris and as Noctis follows it he can see her pressing her lips together like she did in the diner. “It won’t be for long. We’ll be back before you know it, so don’t worry.”

Fo a moment Noctis thinks he was mistaken and Iris will swallow her objections and bow out. Yet when she crosses her arms in front of her chest he gets a strong sense of defiance from her that culminates in a one word: “No.”

It’s the word Noctis was unable articulate before and here Iris is, saying it loud and clear. He wouldn’t even need her to add what she says next. “I’m not staying behind this time.”

The cheerful look on Gladio’s face fades as he scrutinises his sister. It might be that he’s not used to her talking back like this or simply that he likes the idea of her accompanying them even less than Noctis. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’m coming along,” Iris declares, unperturbed. “This is no longer a request—” she gives Noctis a determined look— “I’ve decided and nothing you say can change that, so you better not waste time on trying to talk me out of it and just accept it.”

Noctis can feel his heart sink and Gladio tense up beside him. He thought the topic was over and done with, yet here it’s unfolding again. The only relief is that this time around he might not have to be the one to argue.

“Absolutely not!” Gladio’s response is along the lines of what Noctis expected. It would be easy to take his side and shut Iris down. Yet something about it feels wrong.

“Don’t treat me like I’m still a little kid!” Iris shoots back.

It’s what Noctis concluded by himself yet isn’t willing to admit. He has no counter argument except that he doesn’t want her to join and he doubts she would let that stand. Leaving it up to Gladio might be his best bet, yet he’s torn between hoping that as her brother Gladio will get his way and feeling guilty about wanting to exclude Iris.

“This isn’t just some random daemon hunting.” Gladio sounds surprisingly calm as if he’s trying to rub off on his sister. “No one has been in Insomnia for a decade and we don’t know what’ll await us there. I owe it to our parents to keep you safe—”

“Don’t make this about our parents, don’t you dare!” Iris cuts him off. An angry glint has entered her eyes as she’s staring her brother down.

Noctis is growing uncomfortable. With the mention of the Amicitia siblings’ parents a line was crossed where he turned from silent bystander to involuntary intruder. This feels like it’s become too much of a family matter for him to have any say in the outcome. He wants to retreat and leave it to them to work out between each other. The worry that such a thing would be more rude than listening in keeps him in place.

Gladio gives a sigh and then turns around. “You say something, too, Noct.”

“Me?” Noctis is caught off guard. Just as he considered how out of place he is, he’s getting dragged in.

“Yeah,” Gladio confirms. “You’re the king and it’s your quest, so it should be your decision.”

A reasonable argument pushing Noctis into unreasonable territory. He feels thrown back into his early twenties when he was expected to take up the mantle of king and reclaim his kingdom. By now he thought he’d moved beyond that and accepted his duty when reflecting in the crystal. Yet one part of ascending the throne to die is the knowledge that he won’t have to rule. He realises that despite what he thought he’s not prepared for this. Using a hint of his status earlier to get his way was meant to be a one-off thing.

Noctis never learned how to make decisions as a ruler. What makes them fair or the best for everyone? How can he choose the side of one of his loved ones over the other and decree it to be so without question? It’s one thing to weigh in as a friend  — and he already felt weird about that. He doesn’t think he can make the final call on this — not without second-guessing himself till the very end. The authority of a king weighs on his shoulders in a situation where he doesn’t want it.

Gladio’s gaze is expectant. When Noctis looks over to Iris her eyes share a similar expression. She seems willing to wait on his input at least, despite her earlier insistence that she wasn’t going to change her mind. Or maybe she would even budge if he told her no at this point. The thought alone is enough to feed his guilt.

If only Ignis were here. Noctis finds himself wishing for his advisor’s council. His gaze wanders across the parking lot in hopes of catching sight of the man, but Ignis is nowhere to be found. He closes his eyes to give himself some time to think. If no one is there to tell him he has to figure out how to handle this decision by himself. There’s one thing he knows for sure: he doesn’t want to make this call as a king. So if he were to resolve this as their friend, what would he do?

Noctis takes a calming breath and meets the waiting gazes of the two siblings. Gladio has crossed his arms and furrows his brow with a curious look. Iris is the opposite, having lost the air of determination as her hands are shoved into her pockets and her face is touched by uncertainty. He still remembers the smile she put on when she saw them off at Cape Caem, hiding her sadness underneath. Who knows what her face looked like when she learnt that he hadn’t returned with his friends from Gralea. He cannot put her through that again.

“I’m not saying this as your king, I’m saying this as your friend.” Noctis keeps his gaze on Iris but braces himself for Gladio’s disappointment. “If you really want to come along, then I won’t stop you even if I’d rather keep you out of it.”

Iris’s face lightens up in pleasant surprise. Noctis swallows down the unease as she hurries towards him and wraps her arms around his neck. His body sways from momentum with which she presses against him as he loosely puts his hands on her back. He pushes aside the prospect of her watching him die. It’s a thought that haunts him with all of his friends. Not even filling them in might keep the it at bay. Compared to that Gladio’s expected protest seems easy to bear.

“Are you sure about this?” Gladio wants to know with less force than Noctis would’ve predicted. His posture is unchanged, yet his expression has become skeptical.

Iris pulls away at the sound of her brother’s voice and Noctis gives a shrug. It’s a lacklustre gesture, he knows. “Did Talcott lie to me about Iris hunting daemons together with the marshal?”

Confusion enters Gladio’s eyes. “No, he didn’t. So what?”

“So you’re fine with her doing that but don’t think she’s up to coming along with us? Seems kinda unreasonable, don’t you think?”

“He’s just being Gladdy,” Iris comments with a sigh and waves it off. Now that she has her way it seems she wants this discussion to be over. Ignoring her brother’s displeasure, she puts on a soft smile. “I’m going to get my stuff. Don’t cop out on me now.”

“I won’t,” Noctis promises. He knew he’d have to commit to this choice the moment he made it. There’s no taking it back.

Noctis watches Iris walk off towards the diner before he turns back to Gladio and gives him a questioning look. “Still trying to keep your sister out of the fighting?”

Gladio gives a sigh and looks away. His demeanour is less vehement than what Noctis is used to from him. There’s not much of his “I know better than you” attitude which he displayed during their past disagreements. Instead Noctis thinks he catches a hint of resignation in his friend’s hanging shoulders.

“It’s not the fighting itself that worries me.” Gladio’s tone is thoughtful. His gaze is getting lost in the dark outside of Hammerhead. “It’s because we’re headed to Insomnia…”

While Noctis remains silent he’s not without wonder at what Gladio is thinking of. Among the four friends Gladio is the one who values action the most. With how little he reveals of what’s on his mind, Noctis got the impression there was nothing he couldn’t handle. It’s rare for him to share a glimpse of his worries. Noctis tends to forget he has any.

“Many people died that day, not just our fathers,” Gladio continues and returns his attention to Noctis. “And Iris was there for it all. Going there could bring back a lot of memories.”

Noctis nods. Though Gladio doesn’t specify it, he seems to include all of them even while Iris is his biggest concern. The prospect of his fate keeping Noctis preoccupied, he hadn’t even thought of that. He wants to assure Gladio that Iris is fit to handle it, but he cannot muster the confidence. Most of that he needs to hold up the front while it’s getting harder to block out the thoughts of his certain death.

“And just between you and me—” Gladio steps closer and lowers his voice— “I have a bad feeling about this.”

Everything inside Noctis’s torso contracts as if it wants to shrivel up with him and disappear from sight. His vision blurs and he blinks a few times too many. Gladio doesn’t seem to notice.

“I don’t like the fact that you turned down the support of the entire Crowns Guard and won’t even accept the marshal’s help,” Gladio admits.

Noctis wouldn’t be surprised to hear that from Prompto, maybe even from Ignis. Gladio bringing it up is unexpected. “That sounded different at the diner.”

“Because I didn’t want Iris to worry.” Gladio scratches his head. “But now you’re allowing her to come along, so I gotta wonder why you refused the closest thing we have to an army.”

They hold each other’s gaze as Noctis considers his reply. It’s understandable for Gladio to want to know his reasoning. It’s not backtracking on his decision if he gives Gladio an answer. Still, he keeps it brief. “The fewer people the better. I want to avoid casualties.”

The frown returns to Gladio’s face. At first he says nothing, just regards Noctis with that expression. It isn’t easy to endure when the secret Noctis is trying to keep slips closer and closer to his tongue.

“You want to avoid casualties,” Gladio reiterates as if processing the words. It almost seems understanding until he fixates Noctis with a glare that makes Noctis’s throat feel tighter. “Then how come my sister is the one person you’re making an exception for?”

Noctis is almost glad about the reproachful tone. It makes him defiant, too proud to beg for understanding. “It’s her choice, I’m not making it for her.”

“But you were fine making it for everyone else.”

Gladio is right and it stings. If Noctis wanted to make Gladio see where he’s coming from he’d have to reveal the truth. It’s tempting but he isn’t ready. He cannot say if he’s ever going to be ready. If he has to tell his friends about the sacrifice he will have to make, however, he at least wants them all to be present for it.

“I know,” Noctis agrees. There’s no point in arguing, so he decides to cut this short. “I suppose I don’t have a reasonable justification for it.”

Another pause before Gladio inhales audibly and looks away. Noctis cannot guess the thoughts running through his head but he seems conflicted. They have that in common for once, even if it’s for different reasons. While Gladio is dealing with what upsets him, Noctis is struggling not to fall apart. He didn’t think his secret would follow him at every turn.

To drown out the thoughts as best as he can, Noctis keeps his on Gladio. It’s rare to witness him work through his emotions. He rubs his brow with his index finger and then strokes over the top of his head as if to push back his hair. It’s an absent-minded gesture, as if he’d forgotten he tied it together. Then his eyes refocus and lock with those of Noctis.

“Noct…” Gladio puts a hand on Noctis’s shoulder and there’s a solemn look in his expression. “Promise me you know what you’re doing.”

Gladio’s grip is loose and yet it feels like he’s pushing Noctis down with all the might of his request. It’s less filled with expectation and more like a plea. Noctis deliberates how much it would cost to assure Gladio that he does know what he’s doing. He thinks he does — to an extent — but will it be enough? The confidence he holds isn’t sufficient to assure his friend. He considers feigning it, but that doesn’t feel right.

“I would be lying if I said I didn’t have my doubts.” The admission is quiet but steadfast. Noctis wants to commit to his duty and he wants to convey that to Gladio. “But I have to look ahead and move forward. I owe it to everyone, not just the people who got me here.”

His words are spoken in memory of his father and Luna who prepared the path for him. Their deaths still weigh on him, the thought of them reminds him of what he must do. It’s like Bahamut said: they sacrificed their lives for him and now it’s his turn. He won’t let it be in vain.

Noctis puts all the determination he can muster into his gaze. He squares his shoulders, just a bit, to invoke the trust of his friend. Gladio nods and squeezes him in acknowledgement.

“Then I won’t ask for more.”

It might be a compromise on Gladio’s part, just how Noctis feels like the shoes he’s trying to fill are just a bit too big for him. But Gladio is going to trust in him even if he cannot warrant the outcome. And he is going to live up to his destiny, regardless of how it troubles him.

“Thank you.” Noctis puts as much sincerity into his voice as he can muster without breaking. “I promise I will see this through till the end.”

“Right there with you.” Gladio moves his hand from the shoulder and pats Noctis’s cheek. Then he breaks away and moves past Noctis. As if he flipped a switch inside his head, he’s back to business, leaving behind no traces of the conflict he went through. “Looks like Ignis and Prompto are done stocking up on supplies. You comin’?”

“Yeah.” Noctis doesn’t mind moving on. It won’t help him defeat Ardyn to make endless deliberations. He reflected on his life inside the crystal, now it’s time to act. He sends away his packed bags and follows Galdio to meet up with Prompto and Ignis who are lingering near the store.

There aren’t many people around that Noctis interacted enough with to warrant a few parting words. With Iris coming along, his list has gone down from four to three. Gladio and Prompto wonder why he’s bothering when they can be back with daylight. He doesn’t explain, so they follow Ignis’s example and remain quiet for the most part as they accompany Noctis on making the rounds.

First Noctis checks in on Cindy one last time and asks her to give his regards to Cid. When she comments that he can visit the man in Lestallum himself once this is over, he laughs it off. He doesn’t want to make claims he knows he cannot keep.

Iris is in the process of giving Talcott a hug when Noctis walks up. As brief as most of their interactions where, Noctis feels like he at least owes a goodbye to the young man. Talcott’s offer to drive them to Insomnia he turns down. He already decided that they’ll go by foot, though he doesn’t disclose his reasons.

The marshal awaits them by the gate to see them off. His gaze lingers on Noctis as he tells them to fight well. Noctis cannot pinpoint what about the moment does it, but it reminds him of when his father bid him farewell. Back then he didn’t get why his father prolonged the departure and spoke with concern. After Insomnia’s fall he discovered hidden meaning in his father’s last words to him. In the light of his own death, he finally understands.

“Take care of things in my absence,” Noctis requests of Cor, leaving the phrasing vague. With him the line of the Lucii will die, but someone will have to take charge. He has confidence in the marshal to handle it for as long as people are adapting to yet another drastic change. Besides, he wouldn’t know who else to ask here.

Noctis can imagine Cor will begrudge him soon for knowingly walking off to his death without saying anything. His friends will, too, if he doesn’t tell them before the end.

#toporcelainivoryandsteel #final fantasy xv #noctis lucis caelum #ignis scientia #prompto argentum #gladiolus amicitia #iris amicitia #cindy aurum #cor leonis #final fantasy 15 #fanfiction #writing requests #writing tag #text heavy #-i lost count of how many times i changed the ending- #-really there were quite some additions and changes in the whole thing-

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5 Ways You're Screwing Up Your Computer

We're not here to pass judgment. Truly, we're definitely not. I have, in any case, been fixing PCs, in some limit, for well more than two decades, and I see something very similar over and over....

Individuals are continually botching their own PCs!

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Some of the time, be that as it may, lingering is the foe. We put off a PC support task since we don't have time, or reveal to ourselves that we'll back up our stuff one week from now.

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We even rate your spoil from 1 to 10. The pleasure is all mine!

01 You're Not Backing Up Continuously

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This is one of the greatest way you're botching your PC (and your cell phone, and your iPad, and so on.).

Your information is the most critical stuff you possess. They're your imperative photographs and recordings, your costly music, your school paper you've put a really long time in, and so on., and so forth., and so on.

While it's conceivable to utilize customary reinforcement programming to back up ceaselessly to an outside hard drive or a system drive, it's simpler to begin with, and more secure on a few dimensions, to back up consistently with an online reinforcement administration.

We've audited many these online reinforcement administrations, and investigate every one again consistently. All are extraordinary decisions and counteract pretty much any opportunity of you losing your essential stuff.

Backblaze and Carbonite are our top choices, reinforcement relentless, and both permit boundless space at shockingly reasonable costs.

In this way, quit botching your PC and begin constantly backing up to the cloud! Most cell phones have worked in auto-reinforcement abilities, so make sure to turn those on, as well!

02 You're Not Updating Your Antivirus Software

Another "great" approach to botch your PC is to not keep refreshed that antivirus program you set aside the effort to introduce or even buy.

This is a LEVEL 10 SCREW UP!

Those odious malware creators out there make new infections consistently, change how they work, and find better approaches for maintaining a strategic distance from antivirus programming. Accordingly, antivirus programming needs to react similarly as fast.

At the end of the day, your antivirus programming just worked 100% the day you introduced it. Sort of discouraging, would it say it isn't?

Most antivirus programming, even free antivirus programs (of which there are bounty), consequently update their definitions, the term used to portray the arrangement of directions the projects use to distinguish and expel infections and other malware.

All things considered, there are some of the time spring up messages that request that you do this physically or sees that show up on screen about expecting to refresh the center program before definition refreshing can proceed.

Sadly, we see individuals botch all the time by shutting these...without understanding them by any means! A message that appears again and again is generally a decent sign that is it's vital.

Along these lines, quit botching your PC's capacity to battle the trouble makers and ensure your antivirus program is refreshed! Simply open the program and search for the "update" catch.

In the event that you figure you may have been running your PC with an altogether obsolete antivirus program, figure out how to check your PC for malware for help ensuring nothing slipped in while your PC's barriers were down.

03 You're Not Patching Software Right Away

Like the not-refreshing your-antivirus botch from above, putting off those product refreshes, particularly the working framework ones, is an extraordinary method to spoil your PC.

This is a LEVEL 10 SCREW UP!

(Indeed, three Level 10 tighten ups a column! We're getting the greater part of the extremely critical stuff off the beaten path first.)

Most of programming patches nowadays, particularly the ones Microsoft pushes for Windows on Patch Tuesday, right "security" issues, which means issues that have been found that could enable somebody to remotely get to your PC!

When these vulnerabilities in Windows have been found, a fix must be made by the engineer (Microsoft) and afterward introduced (by you) on your PC, all before the trouble makers make sense of how to misuse said defenselessness and begin doing harm.

Microsoft's a piece of this procedure takes sufficiently long so the most exceedingly terrible thing you can do is expand that lucky opening any more extended by stalling on introducing these fixes once gave.

Windows Update is most likely introducing these updates for you consequently yet you can check for this, and change the conduct, whenever you need. Perceive How Do I Change Windows Update Settings? on the off chance that you need assistance.

It's precisely the same circumstance with your Mac or Linux PC, your tablet, and your smartphone...just diverse subtleties. Anyway you're advised that an update is accessible to iOS, your cell phone programming, or your Linux piece: quickly apply the update!

Other programming and application refreshes are critical, as well, and for comparable reasons. On the off chance that your Microsoft Office programming, iPad applications, Adobe programs, and so forth., ever request that you update, get it done.

(You've never introduced updates to Windows? Like I said above, they might introduce without your insight, yet you should check no doubt. Figure out how to introduce Windows refreshes on the off chance that you have no clue where to begin.)

04 You're Not Using Strong Passwords

We as a whole use passwords. The vast majority of the gadgets and administrations we use necessitate that we do.

What they don't (for the most part) require is that the passwords not suck. A "solid" secret word, in the event that you didn't have an inkling, is a secret word that doesn't suck...in some particular ways.

Ideally you realize that passwords that incorporate your name, straightforward words, 1234, and so on., are all "awful" passwords. Data security specialists call these sorts of passwords powerless passwords.

Feeble passwords are anything but difficult to "break" with exceptional programming. Weak passwords are even simple enough to figure. Yowser.

This is a LEVEL 9 SCREW UP!

We've expounded on speculating your own basic passwords and notwithstanding hacking in to your own PC, the two things you might be upbeat to be able to do when required however that each other master PC client can likewise do.

See what makes a secret key frail or solid in case you're not exactly beyond any doubt how extraordinary, or not all that good, your passwords are. In the event that they don't meet that "solid" criteria, figure out how to make a solid secret word.

Improve and utilize a secret phrase administrator to store your difficult to-recollect passwords, abandoning you with only a solitary, solid secret word to remember. There are a lot of free secret phrase chief applications, projects, and web benefits out there.

05 You're Still Running Windows XP

Windows XP was likely Microsoft's best result ever, absolutely its best and well known working framework.

Lamentably, in April of 2014, Microsoft finished practically all help for it, implying that those critical security openings that are fixed each month on Patch Tuesday are not being made for Windows XP!

This is a LEVEL 8 SCREW UP!

In the event that despite everything you're utilizing Windows XP, at that point your PC is as yet powerless against the majority of the security issues that have been found, and revised in later forms of Windows, since May of 2014!

This is a Level 8 mess up and not a Level 10 on the grounds that there are a couple of ways you can keep yourself generally sheltered and still use Windows XP.

See Support for Windows XP Ended April 8, 2014 for additional on what changed that day, and a few connects to some extraordinary pieces about how to continue utilizing Windows XP in the most capable manner conceivable.