#octopath traveler fanfiction

[baronaliswritingcorner]

Mutual Senses (Octopath Traveler II, Agnea/Hikari)

AO3 Link

Simple and rustic though it may be, the sleepy senses of Cropdale were anything but ordinary. The sweet fragrance of sunflowers and morning glories, wafting about and tickling one’s nostrils. The glistening dew of its prized produce, begging for a taste. The sound of giggling children and yelping dogs, promising another uneventful day. The delicate grass crunching beneath one’s feet, the bountiful earth swelling beneath dirt-caked footwear. The breathtaking sight of its glowing fireflies, dancing their nightly waltz amongst the trees.

All this and more buoyed their stolen moments together – found in the hidden meadow just outside the village. The flowery scent of her hair mixed amid the smell of foreign sands laced within his regal garments. His warm smile beheld in her big blue eyes wide as the sky. The bells of her laughter mingling with the rumbling of his chuckling throat. The strength of his grip clutching close her silk-soft frame.

The taste of each other’s lips, joined together in kiss after kiss.  

It’d become routine, these trysts of theirs. As they regularly stole each other away from their duties -- her, pursuing the glitz and glamour of stardom; him, reigning over a reborn kingdom – they spent these treasured respites doing nothing but indulging upon the other. Talking. Singing. Laughing. Playing. Dancing. Observing. Embracing.

It was all wonderful, simply too much, yet just enough for one dark thought to invade their paradise – stretching across the twilit rays of the setting sun until it grew unavoidable.

“Hikari,” Agnea dared to whisper, “do you think this’ll last forever?”

The fingers threading through auburn locks ceased in their movement, and when they suddenly clutched her head – nestled against his shoulder – did she know he’d thought the same.

But she met his golden eyes then, as firm and arresting as they ever were – melting the worries festering beneath her bubbly exterior, just as they’d done over and over in their journey.  

“It doesn’t matter,” said Hikari, his thumb tracing the soft curve of her bottom lip, “because I have you, Agnea Bristarni.” He leaned down to kiss the shell of her ear. “And you, me.”

“O-oh! Hikari!” giggled Agnea as he continued kissing down her jaw, indulging upon the sweet flavor of her skin.  

In this moment right here, right now, in this secret meadow of theirs, they had as long as they needed – for here, there was only Agnea Bristarni, singing promises of tomorrow as Hikari rested upon her lap; for here, there was only Hikari Ku, the steady heartbeat beating beneath his strong chest that lulled Agnea into still reverie.

Within the confines of calculations and deductions their companions adhered to, “how long could this last” had no logical answer – but as their lips came together, they knew they had their answer.

Because it was love that brought them together; again and again, without fail. Love that persisted even within the rigors of their responsibilities. Love that made promises true in treasured touches, silly sounds, sweet smells, tender tastes and spellbinding sights. Pure, passionate, overflowing, idyllic, perfect love.

----------

In the interest of upping my writing output, I've embarked on a short-form writing venture that I'm hoping will regularly bear fruit. Took a little too long to materialize for my tastes, but at any rate, you've witnessed the first step of this undertaking.

It's a wonder just how *alive* HD-2D is in spite of itself -- which I suppose is the goal -- so you could say my theme here was illustrating that juxtaposition in written form. (Truth be told, this originally gestated as a bigger idea regarding Agnea and Hikari's respective stations as commoner/royalty -- perhaps that'll come into the world one day?)

I can't promise they'll be as fluffy as this, but here's to more Agkari in the future! #OctopathTraveler2 #AgneaBristarni #HikariKu

#octopath traveler 2 #octopath traveler ii #agnea bristarni #hikari ku #octopath agnea #octopath hikari #hikari x agnea #agnea x hikari #agkari #octopath traveler 2 fanfiction #octopath traveler fanfiction #shortform writing exercise #hikari/agnea #agnea/hikari

[lesbianslugreaction]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Octopath Traveler (Video Game) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Olberic Eisenberg/Erhardt, Primrose Azelhart & Olberic Eisenberg Characters: Olberic Eisenberg, Erhardt (Octopath Traveler), Primrose Azelhart, The Travelers (Octopath Traveler) Additional Tags: Post-Olberic Chapter 3, Humor, Silly, Perceptive Primrose, And flustered Olberic, Oh my! The Twin Blades of Hornburg are in love, Teasing Summary:

“Wasn’t that a sweet farewell?” Primrose says. “I suppose we’ll be seeing more of your Sir Erhardt later, then?”

Olberic ignores her interesting phrasing of ‘your’, and says, “Aye, I believe so. There is still much to discuss.”

“Right. And excuse my curiosity,” she says with a glint in her eye, “but why didn’t you tell me you and him were in love?”

---

After leaving Wellspring, Primrose has questions for Olberic about a certain old friend of his.

#old man lovers come get your food #octopath traveler #olberic eisenberg #erhardt #olberhardt #olberic/erhardt #olberic x erhardt #octopath traveler fanfiction #octopath

[postalninja]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Octopath Traveler (Video Game) Rating: Mature Warnings: Major Character Death Characters: Olberic Eisenberg, Werner (Octopath Traveler), Erhardt mentioned Additional Tags: Implied/Referenced Character Death, headless horseman au, halloween fic, Unhappy Ending, canon-divergence, Creepy, Darkfic, Referenced Decapitation Summary:

When mysterious hoofbeats begin sounding near Cobbleston at night, Olberic, wishing to protect the village, lends his aid investigating their cause... though it may ultimately lead him to his doom.

#some octopath spookiness for y'all #happy halloween!! #octopath traveler #octopath traveler fanfiction #olberic eisenberg #postal ninja fanfic

[dappledwrites]

haven’t recruited everyone yet but. i might have favourites.

#octopath traveler 2 #octopath traveler 2 spoilers #octopath castti #octopath temenos #i am so attached to these two #castti florenz #she was my first pick for traveller #didn’t expect to love her as much as I do #already dreaming up fanfiction of these two interacting #octopath #octopath traveler #octopath traveller

[fairyring]

When you find Temenos’ AO3 account

Bonus under the cut if you finished Castti’s Chapter 3:

#octopath traveler 2 #castti florenz #octopath #octopath castti #cosplay #jk I love ao3 #please keep writing knightlight fanfiction it's giving me life

[cremeriie]

small world (or so it seems)

Osvald truly did not care much about the state of his hair, or any other so-called vanities, really. Unless it seriously impeded his work, the way he looked was simply not important.

Agnea thought otherwise.

"Seriously Professor, it can't be comfortable keeping it all knotted up like that."

"Yeah! You hair looks as bad as mine after a chase in the woods!"

Ochette only caught the tail end of Osvald's sharp stare as she bounded out of the Inn, likely to find something to eat. This left only Agnea as the remaining nuisance.

"Just let me brush it out, please? You can still read while I do it, you don't even have to move."

He was about to deny her, for good that time, but he stopped short at the pleading look in her eyes. Suddenly, his chest ached in a painfully familiar way.

He never could say no to such an earnest face. Not when it reminded him so much of life before the fire.

"Fine."

"Really? Oh thank you Osvald, I'll be right back with my brush!"

She almost tripped rushing up the stairs, grasping clumsily at her skirt as she went. She really was so young compared to the rest of their group and Osvald wondered, not for the first time, if letting her join their travels was a good idea. At the very least, she held her own in a fight fairly well, and she seemed to pick up on the basic wind magic he had taught her quite quickly.

"Oops, sorry about that ma'am! Whew. Alright Professor, let's see what we're working with here."

She softly pulled all of the unkempt strands back towards her to get a better look. Agnea had a usually irritable habit of humming when she was concentrating, but Osvald oddly found the sound less troublesome that night. After a while she dropped the hair and made a 'hmph'-ing noise.

"Your diagnosis?"

"Pretty terrible. But nothing I cant fix with a little hard work. Um, it may hurt a bit, though."

He brushed off the concern with a wave of his hand, to which Agnea shrugged as if to say 'alright then,' and began her attack on the knots. she started at the bottom, which was relatively tidy all things considered. When pain never occurred Osvald turned his attention back to his book and began reading once again.

For a short while the room was filled only with the quiet sounds of humming, turning pages, and brushing. It was almost peaceful, until...

Snag. His head quickly whipped back and into place.

He blinked.

Snag. Again, his vision was pulled away from the pages.

Snag!

"Agnea."

"Sorry, sorry! It's just such rat's nest back here. My mother would be furious if she saw this mess."

"Hm. Did she often brush your hair?"

"Oh yes, all the time when I was small,' a sad, faraway smile fell onto her face, "She always said how lucky I was to have thick hair, and lots of it too. I bet she'd say the same about you."

"I would get rid of it all if I could but..." He trailed off.

"But?"

"My wife. She...liked it."

Agnea could tell from the clipped response that it was not a subject to be pushed further. They slipped back into silence. At the thought of her mother, she was reminded of one of the songs she used to sing when brushing her daughter's hair. The words spilled from her lips.

"O, Lady of Grace, bless me with poise/ With which I may charm my sweet love/ O, Lady of Grace, bless me with voice/ With which I may call my sweet love..."

At first, the lyrics breezed past Osvald's ears disinterestedly. Agnea was always singing to herself, he couldn't possibly keep up with every song. However, once the last line hit the air his lungs abruptly seized, wind violently squeezed out out them. Voice croaking, he turned slightly to look at the girl.

"How...how do you know that song?"

"Hm? Oh, it's a silly old love song my mother wrote. Apparently it was very favourable with young ladies in all the places she visited. Do you maybe know it? I bet she was still traveling around the time you were younger."

"Rita, she--I remember her singing it. She said she learned it from a woman visiting town..."

"Wow. I wonder if it was mom she heard that day?"

"Quite possibly."

"Huh...and now, all these years later, here we are, together...it must be fate."

"If one is to believe in such a thing."

Osvald swallowed thickly. His body was stiff, and he was trying desperately to remain composed. It was not the time to fall apart. For Aelfric's sake, he hadn't even had a drink that evening.

Agnea stopped, noticing the shake in his jaw from how hard he was clenching it. Her movements stilled. Hesitantly, she wound her arms around Osvald's neck. She gently squeezed, before murmuring into his hair.

"Whether it's fate or not, I'm happy that we met."

She quickly untangled herself from his body and stepped back, clapping her hands decisively.

"Um, we're all done! I bet it feels a whole lot better, even if you won't admit it. Maybe next time I can convince you to let me braid it."

Osvald let out a shuddering breath and cleared his throat.

"Certainly not."

Her laugh twinkled across the room, "Oh, we'll see! But it'll have to be later, because I am quite tired after all of that hard labour. Goodnight Professor!"

"Goodnight, and...thank you."

Agnea beamed brightly before climbing the stairs to her room.

He ran his fingers through his hair and was surprised at the lack of resistance. Small and witnessed only by himself, he smiled.

Osvald knew that the pain in his chest might never fully go away, but that night he felt it ease, just a little bit.

#this is based on that osvald post i made like three? months ago about osvald interacting with the other travelers #they are so father daughter coded #octopath traveler 2 #agnea bristarni #osvald v. vanstein #octopath traveler #maddy talks #should i upload this to ao3 idk idk i wasnt even planning on writing tonight aghfgghgfgf #fanfiction

[zazu75]

Purple flowers in a the Bath: An Octopath Erhradt(Wrath)/OC Hanahaki fanfic, in which caring about the someone going through a depression episode is a big plot point.

#zazu writes #fanfiction #octopath traveler #hanahaki #hanahaki4hanami #Wrath #Erhardt #Anthony Vestra #octopath traveler champions of the continent

[moresrush]

Title: Distractions. (Ao3 link.) Fandom: Octopath Traveler 2. Pairing: Osvald/Partitio. Word Count: 576. Warnings: None. Summary: In which reading isn't as important as something else.

A lot changes in five years. Anyone can stop and realize if they look back at themselves — at the person they were, before those years passed, but for Osvald it becomes the most apparent when he observes the world around him. Specifically, books. From the moment he was able to actually feel his fingers again, he found them itching for the familiar sensation of paper beneath them. Frigit Isle didn’t contain nearly enough knowledge; the books that ended up there were often in various states of disrepair. Pages missing, ink faded — and worse: information outdated.

The mainland offers him a much-needed change from such a disappointing collection.

There are plenty of scholars whose works he had wished to get his hands on before Harvey’s betrayal — and plenty more, now, who have found new things to make him ponder about on his search for answers. It’s almost familiar, being able to sit by candlelight and pour over the scribblings of others, and yet even with a new academic journal in his hand he can’t help but experience something entirely new.

Distraction. Rather: a distraction that he doesn’t mind — one that he prefers. A comfort he hadn’t expected.

Partitio acts as this distraction a lot of the time; since their meeting, he has proven capable of being an absolutely too-energetic chatterbox, but Osvald finds the younger man’s silence to be what keeps making him read the same paragraph over and over again.

Snuggled up to his side, the merchant has been asleep for the better part of an hour now — expression blissful and truly content. Joining Osvald in bed had been wordless but his cold hands had done enough to give him away; golden laughter only muted because of the cold so common in The Winterlands. The days are shorter and when the sun drops the temperatures eagerly follow — which oftentimes puts Partitio into a clingy mood. At first, this was understandable for survival … but there are nights like this one, nights where Osvald forgets what he is reading because he keeps focusing on things about Partitio instead.

The way his breathing is just shy of a snore. The way his hair falls over his face without his hat to push it back. The way his expression changes — brows slightly knit before relaxing again.

Rather than care about things on paper, Osvald V. Vanstein finds himself curious about the dreams of another. The scholar knows too well that when his own eyes close, he is met with terror and guilt — with pain, and yet when Partitio sleeps it is always as if he hasn’t a single thing to worry about. Osvald wonders, idle, book lowering away from where he can actually see letters … if this has anything to do with him. With them — whatever this is.

Osvald has specifically requested that they not overanalyze, that they avoid putting names to anything — and Partitio has respected it with every one of his other wishes. The merchant is patient, adoring with expectations or frustration, and in the middle of the night in The Winterlands Osvald shifts to pull him a little closer as his mind does circles around more and more unknowns.

A lot changes in five years. Anyone can stop and realize if they look back at themselves — at the person they were, before those years passed, but for Osvald it starts to become the most apparent when he observes who it is he wants to be.

#octopath traveler 2 #osvald v. vanstein #partitio yellowil #fanfiction #trans partitio hours #hux writes #wakes up from a nap at an ungodly hour and writes this #and then passes RIGHT BACK OUT #a taste #BARELY A SMIDGEON OF WHAT IS TO COME #this wasnt even on my list of things to do i am a sham

[roaldseth]

“It was a different story to each person Z'aanta told it to, and even then it was not a sure thing of staying the same for any consecutive retellings[. ...] The hunt was not even one commissioned by the Order, and yet it still existed amongst it in its records, [...] a completely different tale than the one from the master hunter’s mouth despite it chronicling the exact same events.”

【 Full Wage 】 an Octopath Traveler fanfic

Z'aanta | Rated M | 11,065 words, 3/3 Chapters

COMPLETED

Please mind full tags on AO3. Prologue - Story - Epilogue format

Fic linked below ↓

#Octopath Traveler #fanfiction #fanfic #Z'aanta #it's very Z'aanta-centric #but Susanna and a surprise OC is there #if anyone hears me talking about writing another fic focused around Z'aanta. #Please for the love of god tell me no. #It's not that I can't cook with gas. #It's that I run out of propane. #in approx. 6(?) months I've written a little over 25k of Z'aanta fics. (it's only 2 but still) #For reference it's taken me years in the past to score up a word count like that. #good god he does things to my brain

[broomballkraken]

Title: DYWTYLM

Fandom: Octopath Traveler 2

Pairing(s): Osvald/Partitio

Word count: 496

Warnings: None

Summary: ♪Is there something you give That you will never receive in return? Do you know what it is? Do you wish that you loved me?♪

Partitio can't hold in his feelings for Osvald any longer, but deep down he already knows what the answer will be to his confession.

Saw this amazing art by @moresrush and it made me immediately go feral and write this little drabble, thank you for my life🙏🙏🙏

♪Is there something you give That you will never receive in return? Do you know what it is? Do you wish that you loved me?♪

Deep down, Partitio knew that this was a bad idea, but he couldn’t hold in his feelings for Osvald anymore. As they stood next to the flickering ashes of the campfire, he took a bold step closer to Osvald, whose hands were clenched into fists and lips set in a tight line.

“You’ve gotta know how I feel about ya by now, right? I reckon I haven't been subtle about it, no matter how hard I’ve tried.” Partitio’s cheeks were burning as he let out a nervous laugh and rubbed at his neck. Osvald’s silence was deafening as he stared at the ground, and that made the roaring of Partitio’s heartbeat within his ears seem that much more overwhelming.

“Do you…think that you could ever feel the same…about me?”

Osvald’s hand suddenly shot out, taking hold of a surprised Partitio’s arm with a firm grip, and he was trembling so badly that Partitio’s upper body shook along with him.

“I-I truly wish that I could, Partitio, but…”

Osvald’s voice trailed off, his tone laced with regret, and Partitio gave him a sad, but understanding smile. A part of him had expected that answer, and he was okay with it. He knew that Osvald’s heart was weighed down by his pain, his anger, his unfathomable heartbreak, and maybe someday, when his heart was free from his suffocating burdens, Osvald could love Partitio just as much as he loved him.

Partitio’s hand wrapped around the chain dangling over Osvald’s chest, and he gently tugged Osvald down until their foreheads were touching. “It’s okay, Osvald. I’ll wait for you, as long as it takes.”

Osvald stared down at the miniscule space left between them, and his eyes slipped shut as a light chuckle rumbled through his chest, which made Partitio’s smile grow even wider. When Osvald’s gaze finally moved up and Partitio stared deep into his eyes, Osvald gifted him with the softest of smiles, causing tears to prick at the corners of Partitio’s eyes as his heart threatened to soar right out of his chest.

“You…have a real pretty smile, partner.”

Osvald’s grip on his arm tightened, and Partitio let out a startled squeak when he was suddenly pulled into a tight hug. When his shock had subsided, the tears that he had been holding back silently slid down his cheeks as he hugged Osvald in return. As the last embers of the campfire died out, the warmth of their embrace staved off the cold of the night, but it seemed like nothing compared to the blaze of longing that burned deep within Partitio’s heart.

♪Do you wish that you loved me? (Smile back) Do you wish that you loved me? (At me) Do you wish that you loved me? Oh, whoa Do you wish that you loved me? (Please)♪

#octopath traveler 2 #osvald v. vanstein #partitio yellowil #osvald x partitio #fanfiction #jade writes fanfiction #osvitio

[silent-mysteriousguy]

*dropkicks into here*

I live

#octopath traveler #al writes #fanfiction #self promo #eisenbright #olberus

[eve6262]

now vs then

OT 2 SPOILERS // Throne and Father-centric, not ship (hopefully obviously).

Sometimes it’s hard to read Father.

Mother is obvious. She doesn’t bother hiding her emotions, because why should she? She’s the one with the whip, the one who makes the plans; her obvious glee makes her all the more frightening. Mother doesn’t care about that sort of thing.

But with Father, it’s harder.

The two of them are in one of the upper rooms of the den. Most Blacksnakes aren’t allowed up here, having rooms in other buildings across the New Delsta backstreets or something in the basement, but Father said she was special because of how young she joined them, so she lives in the den. The killing and crime she could do without, but a fluffy bed and pretty pictures are nice to come home to.

Father sits at the desk, though he’s turned around the chair so he can watch her practice her knife work. Every now and again he gives a pointer- “A little more momentum, less force-” and she complies. There’s a smile on his face.

His eyes are...harder to read.

There’s something that she thinks is supposed to be pride, in there. It’s probably to do with his own knife skills- second to none and killer of the most well-guarded targets, he’s certainly got reason to be proud of that. She’s gotten well enough into her own skills to understand how hard it is to fully master so many different blades and wield them as well as he does.

But something else is completely foreign to her. It’s not like the way his eyes glitter when he describes the fresh scent of blood, or the thrill of the kill. It’s not like the way his eyes haze over a little when he’s had one too many glasses of whiskey, and his voice gets a little raspier. It doesn’t even look like the time she mentioned that she liked talking to Pirro because he was nice to her, and he knelt down on her level and said, “If he ever tries something on you, you come tell me, okay?”

She, of course, said, “Why would I need to do that?”

And he laughed. And then looked her dead in the eyes and made her promise. Maybe it’s a personal thing.

It’s always a personal thing with the Blacksnakes.

Not for Throné, though. She likes Pirro, is friends with Scaracci and Donnie, but she doesn’t go out of her way to hate other people. Nobody’s ever done something so mean to her she wanted to hurt them. It’s never been personal. Maybe that comes with being barely twelve years old, maybe that comes with hating the smell of blood. She isn’t sure.

Not a lot of things are concrete aside from her collar. The way Mother’s temper flares at the slightest disgrace; what was courtesy yesterday is disrespect today. The whip marks may never truly heal from her skin, especially from that one incident with the blood.

She hated that.

But Father’s eyes had been something special.

That’s what it is now, she realizes. The second thing in his eyes. Whatever it was, it’s the same thing as when he bandaged her back after Mother whipped it bloody. She was only ten at the time, and her own eyes held tears she was trying furiously to hold back, but they simply wouldn’t have it. It’s been more than a year since then, and now she knows better. The tears will be stayed, or else Mother’s wrath gets worse.

It also gets worse when she doesn’t see tears, to be fair. There’s no winning in this house unless you’re Mother or Father. Or maybe one of the dealers at the poker tables.

Father makes a noise in her throat and she stops on instinct. Looks up to him- even sitting down he’s so tall- and walks over to her in that strange gait she’s heard Pirro call a ‘stalk’. “Good job, Throné.”

He pats her head. She closes her eyes and pouts, because now her hair is all messed up, and he laughs. But she does miss the warmth of his hand when he pulls it away. Still, she fixes the part around her eye, now out of place and hard to see through properly.

“Come on, then. I have some work to do. Do you wanna come with me?”

“...Okay,” she says, because accompanying Father on his work is better than staying in the den with just Mother. Even if there’s the smell of blood.

“I hoped you’d say that,” he says with a familiar glint in his eye, and beckons her along.

---

It took a while for her to figure out what that look in his eye meant.

She didn’t think about it even after he died. Even after the word “dad” spilt from her lips like the blood from his stomach, the life leaving him even as he held her hand and wanted nothing anymore but the love from a daughter he’d thought he’d lost. He had it, in the end. Claude didn’t get what he wanted, and neither did her true mother, and neither did Mother-

But maybe at least Father is happy in whatever hell he’s in. Happy that he got his daughter.

It took a long, long while. But she finally saw it again.

In Osvald’s eyes.

Elena has apparently discovered some huge conspiracy within whatever organization controls the labeling of soulstones. Naturally, Osvald agreed to accompany her, and Throné was bored, so she decided to tag along. In secret, because Elena is a nice girl and Osvald’s daughter shouldn’t be caught mingling with thieves.

He’s probably noticed her by now, though.

She’s ranting about something or other. It sounds remarkably less like the man himself and more like Partitio rambling about whatever new invention he’s discovered, excited almost more than Ochette catching a whiff of good meat. The look in her eyes is soft but determined, a combination she’s never seen before but wants to associate with pure-hearted children.

Osvald is of course proud of his daughter. It’s in his eyes- pride, and what she can now safely define as affection.

It’s almost unfathomable to think it was in Father’s eyes.

Almost.

Because wasn’t that what it was all about? Mother cared for nothing, Claude dispassionate, Pirro setting aside whatever reservations he had in search of luxury. But Father was nothing like any of them. He told her where to go, gave her a warning but knew she’d follow because he never cared about this game. None of it- not the garden, not the tests, nothing.

He wanted a daughter. And Claude took that away from him. So he hid, and bid his time, and knew that the only thing that could get him his daughter was his skills with a blade, and so he used them. And then, when he had her, he realized:

What did he have to give her?

The answer wasn’t much. A life of crime. Of death. That she didn’t enjoy, he must’ve realized. That fateful day, when he asked if she liked the smell of blood, and she asked for the raspberry jam she loved back home. He’d given her some, but looked contemplative as he stared out a window. Perhaps he forgot, in all his quest for the things he wanted, that not everyone was as bloodthirsty as he was.

And yet he tried anyway. He did, in the end, give her the one thing she wanted- her freedom. With Father alive, there could be no freedom, even if he had simply handed over the key. He knew the truth- the spiraling, awful, toxic truth. He knew the Lostseed tale and the man who presided over a fallen kingdom.

It was a gift to him, too. A chance to finally leave the hell of a cesspit that was life for him- a wife taken, his daughter raised into this awful cycle, having to deal with Mother as a cohort.

“Father. Wherever you are...”

She starts down the path, realizing that Elena and Osvald are gone. She’ll catch up. She always does.

“I hope you’re happy.”

--

this is pretty short and really only has me as the target demographic so I thought I'd post it on tumblr instead of ao3 if you want me to post it on ao3, leave a comment and I'll post it though, I get not wanting to read your fanfiction on tumblr lmao

~Eve6262

#octopath traveler #octopath traveler 2 #octopath 2 spoilers #throne anguis #osvald v. vanstein #elena octopath #elena v. vanstein #father octopath #writing #fanfiction

[runicmagitek]

Sending My Love: Chapter 2 (Castti/Throné - Octopath Traveler 2)

I was able to sneak in some edits to post a bonus chapter this week! Enjoy and stay tuned Sunday for more~

[read more on AO3]

#castti florenz #throné anguis #castthrone #castti x throne #octopath traveler ii #octopath traveler 2 #fanfiction #my writing #fanfic: sending my love

[postalninja]

Chapter 5 - Consequences His face dejectedly buried in his hands, Olberic sat on the sitting room sofa in the royal suite, heartbroken and distraught.

H'aanit was finally asleep in their bedroom, having eventually given in to exhaustion after hours spent weeping.

Would a day not come when his wife no longer had need for tears? What more must go wrong in her life before the Gods were satisfied with her suffering?

Primrose came to sit beside him, laying a comforting hand to his shoulder. Olberic lifted his head, meeting her eyes. Continue on AO3

#octopath traveler #olberic eisenberg #h'aanit #h'aanberic #the head that wears the crown #chapter 5 #octopath traveler fanfiction #postal ninja fanfic

[sector-z-knd]

Agnea's Purse of Hope

When the travelers need some funds for a performance, Agnea offers her purse of hope. However, not everyone is as keen to let her use her savings.

—

“Ten thousand leaves for four tickets?! You gotta be kiddin’ me!”

The concierge shrugged, hands up in a placating manner, though it didn’t quite hide the smirk the man had. “Our performance prices may be high, but it is to cover the costs of the performers and stage designers. You understand, I’m sure?”

Partitio let out a resigned sigh, lifting his hat off with one hand to scratch at his head. “Well, can’t knock a fellah for tryin’ to make a profit…”

Agnea couldn’t help but fret on her feet, her body showing her agitation just as it did all her moods. “But we have to get inside! Dolcinea is performing, and I just know something is going to happen during the show!”

Again, the concierge shrugged, turning away to help the next customer. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but I don’t make the prices. Unless you have the coin, I’m afraid you’re not getting in.”

“Hm, that does put a wrench in our plans. Considering that Miss Dolcinea will only be in town for one night, finding the funds before the tickets sell out may prove difficult,” Temenos mused, hand on chin. Though he looked deep in thought, his eyes were on the gates of the New Delsta performance hall, as if pondering the best way of scaling them without being caught. It was always his mindset to find the paths no one else would tread.

“Indeed. Perhaps paying for the ferry to New Delsta was a mistake,” Hikari sighed, though he took the more practical approach and pulled his satchel off his back. The old canvas bag was worn but sturdy, with the diamond symbol of Ku lovingly stitched into it. He started to dig around in it, the others gathering around to see what he was doing. “We can still pull together the funds if we sell some of our belongings. Partitio, do you have anything of value you would not regret parting with?”

The merchant dug around before finally pulling a pocket watch from an inside pocket. “Well, I do have that silver watch from Clockbank that we got from that old feller. It’d fetch a pretty price on the market.”

“Good. Temenos?”

With a long-suffering sigh that was as iconic as his clerical catchphrase, the man pulled out a handkerchief and began unwrapping something from within. “While I do think there are better ways to find funds quickly, I’m happy to impart what I have.” He pulled the last fold away to reveal a shimmering stone, the last lights of the dying sun setting ablaze its deep stoney hues.

Partitio’s eyes sparkled in kind as he bent down to inspect the stone. “Hoo-eey, that’s a mighty fine stone! Where’d you get that?”

There was a mischievous gleam in Temenos’ eye as he pulled the stone back, teasing the merchant with hidden treasure. “I believe Throné, ahem, borrowed this as we were passing through the last town. She claimed her gut had told her it would be wise to carry it along, and it seems she was right.”

“And her gut hasn’t failed us yet,” Hikari nodded, and pulled out a small stone relief. It had a carving of a dragon on it, the details worn but the features still visible. The warrior’s eyes softened as he looked at it, then turned solemn as he held it up. “I can give this.”

“But Hikari, isn’t that one of the treasures of Ku?” Temenos pried, his eyebrows furrowing slightly. “Wouldn’t you prefer to take it home with you once you return?”

“There are other relics of Ku that hold more worth to me, all of which will be reclaimed once I take back the throne,” the warrior said, passing the relic to Partitio. The merchant held the small relief with careful hands, already planning to buy it back when the chance arose.

All through this exchange, Agnea remained quiet. Her hands were clasped at her chest, clutching a small cloth purse. She swallowed hard, doing her best not to show her nerves. The others were giving such wonderful things that would surely fetch a good price, but in her heart, she knew it wouldn’t be enough. Going to this performance was something that she had wanted to do in the first place, so it only made sense that she contributed the most, right?

“Agnea? You’re being very quiet.”

The woman jumped, the coins rattling in her purse as she did. Her gaze flickered between the three men: Hikari squatting on the ground, Partitio still half-bent over him, Temenos with that ever-present smirk as he regarded her. Pulling in a steadying breath, Agnea said, “I’ve made up my mind.”

“On what?” Temenos urged, head cocked.

“On this. We can sell my purse.”

Partitio’s eyes nearly popped out of his head, eyebrows flying past the brim of his hat. “Yer purse of hope? Agnea…!”

The dancer pressed on, trying to smile. “It has ten thousand leaves in it already, so it’ll cover the cost of the tickets for sure-!”

“No.”

All three looked down to Hikari, who was busy rearranging things in his pack. His face was blank, but oddly steely. Had he really just said no?

Blinking in surprise, she stepped over to the warrior and put on her winning smile. “It’ll be alright, Hikari! It was my idea to come to the theater, so it’s my responsibility to pay-”

“No.” This time the word was said with more force, and Hikari rose to his full height. Though he was not much taller than her, he was still imposing as he looked down to her. “You need that bag to achieve your dreams. I will not allow you to sell it on our behalf.”

Agnea’s shoulders fell, the tie on her bag drooping. “B-but, Hikari…”

“We’ll find another way,” he said firmly and moved past her, heading for the stairs. “Come on, let’s find an item shop. We don’t have much time before the performance.”

While Temenos hurried to catch up with the warrior, Partitio held back. Agnea was still standing under a streetlamp, her expression caught between disappointment and relief. The merchant stepped towards her, touching her freckled shoulder with his gloved hand. “Aggie?”

“I really thought I’d bring a smile to him, Partitio. I thought offering my purse would be helpful, that he’d be able to keep his relic from his homeland. I didn’t know it would make him upset.”

Partitio had been listening carefully, but at her last words, he barked out a laugh. “Hikari? Upset? Nah, he just wants to make sure your own dreams can come true! Can’t do that if you give it up for a few tickets!”

He put an arm around her shoulders and pulled her into a half-hug, grinning from ear to ear. “Don’t you worry about Hikari, darlin’. You just keep being yer sweet self, and you’ll bring a smile back to his face in no time!”

Agnea nodded slowly, her eyes slowly lighting up as optimism grew. “Yeah… yeah, you’re right! I can still bring smiles to everyone!”

“That’s the ticket!”

Further ahead, Temenos cast a glance over his shoulder at the happy duo. “Ah, that Partitio. He has a way with making people smile.” He turned his face forward again, arms behind his back as he walked in step with Hikari. Inclining his head towards his fellow traveler, he mused aloud, “Though I wonder why you didn’t take her purse. She offered it willingly, after all.”

Hikari didn’t turn his gaze away from the item shop in the distance. “The first time I met Agnea, she was looking for that purse. In Clockbank, she told Partitio how her village had scraped together that money to help her achieve her dream of stardom. It is not my place to take any of those feelings from her hands.”

Temenos hummed, arms clasped on the staff behind his back. “If it were me-”

“It’s not,” Hikari said flatly, and the cleric gave a soft chuckle, holding a hand up in a placating way.

The silence lasted five heartbeats.

“But if it were me-” Temenos began, earning a sigh from Hikari, “-I would have used her money to buy the tickets, then after selling the items we’d procured, return the money back to her. That way she still has all the leaves she started with.”

“While your method is sound, the leaves we give her would not be the same as the ones given to her by her friends. Everything in that purse came to her through acts of love and tenderness, and those feelings should be continued through letting her use them to become the star she and her village know she can be.”

Temenos chuckled, head tilted as he inspected HIkari’s face. “Why, the war-hardened warrior has a soft side to him! You’re more compassionate than I gave you credit, Hikari.”

Feeling a small glow of pride, Hikari began, “I appreciate your words-”

“Though I do need to point out, your compassionate speech made us miss the general store.”

Hikari stopped in his tracks and whipped around to see Agnea and Partitio standing in front of the store, barely holding back their giggles. Beside him, Temenos had his signature cat-like grin that proved he’d known they’d passed the store but had been waiting to see if Hikari had noticed.

Feeling the tips of his ears turn red, Hikari stalked past and grumbled, “And you’re still as observant as ever, Temenos.”

#Octopath Traveler #Octopath Traveler 2 #Agnea Bristarni #Temenos Mistral #Hikari Ku #Partitio Yellowil #fanfic #fanfiction #square enix #video game

[calidrisminuta]

Just popping back to say...

Just popping back to say that...

I have *finally* found a tag that works for CotC fics on AO3! Previously everything was showing up under the regular Octopath tag.

https://archiveofourown.org/tags/Octopath%20Traveler:%20CotC

Now I can *finally* stop cluttering up the regular Octopath tag with my nonsense! As yet, it's not a common tag and can't be filtered, but it's there. I'll eventually go back and just have the new tag on my works. You have no idea how relieved I am about this.

So... yeah. From now on, any and all of my new fics (once I write them) will have the new tag added. The old ones have all been changed.

*pops back out again*

#octopath traveler cotc #Octopath CotC #octopath traveler #writer problems #fanfic #fanfiction