oh no, i have abandoned my boy!!!
oh no, i have abandoned my boy!!!
Hmmm. In a weird headspace today sorry there probably won’t be any late night replies.
FFXIV Write 2021
// FFXIV Write Info // Prompts // Master post //
Prompt 23 Soul
My take on how a soul crystal works. Screen shots will be added later as well as a follow up story to the events just before the aftermath. No warnings apply, takes place in Shadowbringers shortly after they arrive in Il Mheg. Enjoy!
Kien absently gazed out at the flower field, his thoughts whirling over the events that had just occurred while escaping Lakeland to Il Mheg. It had all happened so quickly that now that it was over, it felt like a hazy dream; his soul crystal changing was the only evidence of it not being a dream. The fight to escape began with Kien in possession of a Bard soul crystal, but by the end of it, his soul crystal took on a new shape. It was now a Gunbreaker soul crystal.
He turned the crystal over and over again in his palm, his fingers sliding along the surface and every edge of it, trying to familiarize himself with its new shape.
It weighed the same as before, but instead of a diamond like shape, it was more of a smaller square shape. The color and symbol on its surface had changed too; no longer was it an emerald green with symbol of a Bard, but a pale golden with the symbol of a Gunbreaker. He didn’t know when it had transformed. He didn’t know it was possible for it to transform without the proper mentorship and training.
Thancred had told him that sometimes the user of a Soul Crystal didn’t need prove their worth to do the job, there were rare moments when the crystal itself knew when it was in the hands of someone worthy of the job. He surmised the crystal had transformed the minute Kien dived in to take up his fallen Gunblade in order to deflect an attack that Ran’jit aimed at his friend Blaise. There had been no hesitation in that moment. Only the thought to put himself between his friend and Ran’jit and the barrier he threw over her was nothing he knew he could ever do before. His heart was still racing at the thought of it all but he knew what he did was on instinct. He wanted to protect his friends.
Footsteps approached him from behind, pulling him out his thoughts with a new sense of resolve. “What did you decide?” Thancred asked him as he clapped him on the shoulder.
Kien inhaled a breath, his fist closing around his crystal as he looked up to meet Thancred’s gaze. “Teach me,” He replied, more sure of his words than ever before. “I want to protect my friends. I’m ready to learn how to wield a Gunblade.”
“That’s the spirit,” Thancred corked a smile, squeezing his shoulder before releasing his hold.“Your crystal knows you best after all.” He held out his Gunblade for Kien to take up once again. “Let’s not dally any longer, shall we?”
Kien wrapped his fingers around its hilt, and gave it a few swings, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. The crystal in his right hand felt warm with familiar aether, comforting and reassuring. The path before him was unexpected but Thancred was right.
His soul crystal knew best.
Writings on an au in which 3 is Entrapta from SPOP. Many many many headcanons included.
Callisto had been alone most of their life. They’d been born into an underground kingdom, hidden in a cliff face with only the castle exposed to the outside world. They’d spent much of their time as a child perched by the windowsill, staring out at that ever changing sky and wondering what was out there. They’d be let out when they were older.
The thing about an enclosed space is that when people get sick, there isn’t a lot to stop the spread. At five years old they’d been ushered into a nursery, safe from the illness. There’d been supplies for a year, and a robotic caretaker. They were told that they’d be let out when the illness was gone. And thus, their world was made smaller.
Eventually the caretaker stopped working- they weren’t sure when. Callisto had gone and found a toolbox under the bed, and tried to fix it. They couldn’t. At five years old, Callisto was completely and wholly alone, locked in a little room with no windows and filters in the air ducts. Oh, how the pain had gripped them, forced tears and sobs out and squeezed their chest with fear and grief. They’d cried for anyone.
At six years old they were still in that room. Ever the responsible child, they’d rationed carefully. They’d taken apart the caretaker and fiddled with each part, like a jigsaw putting it back together each time in a different way. They could not get it to work. The grief had not left them, but they were certain that eventually, they would be let out.
At six years and two weeks, Callisto was found by a malfunctioning cleaning bot. They were eating the last meal left, sitting in front of the caretaker and fiddling with it’s circuits when that door opened. And just as it did, they connected two frayed wires, and the caretaker sparked to life. Suddenly, after all this time, Callisto was not alone anymore, and they took the caretaker out by the hand and skipped with glee, searching the home that was so strange to them now.
At seven years old, Callisto was still happy. There were no people left, but the illness was long extinct, and they got their exercise cleaning the rusted machines and playing hopscotch on the empty streets. They tinkered daily, and the caretaker and the cleaning bot were taught how to help them play jump-rope. They missed their parents sometimes, but that was alright. They had pictures of them, and their fathers journal they’d found under his bed. It said he loved them, and they believed it. Why else would he have locked them up safe?
They had nothing from their mother but ravings.
At seven years and eight months old, Callisto was found by another person. He was not from Dryl. He was an explorer, wishing to witness the lost empire. Callisto tried to take him by the hand and show him around, but he’d shrieked and smacked them away, claiming they were a “beplagued Dryllian”. They’d cried for him to wait as he left, crossing himself. He did not wait. Callisto had sobbed themself to sleep, and nothing the caretaker or the cleaning bot did seemed to help.
At seven years and eight months old, mere days later, Callisto was found again, this time by a party. They’d heard the tale of the Dryl-child, and wished to check if they were alright. Callisto asked them if their parents were dead.
Callisto’s parents had left Dryl, searching for a cure, and found no aid. They’d been driven back home and plague had consumed them. Callisto asked what happened to the plague when Dryl was gone and learned that there had been a cure, not shared. Guilt twisted the leader’s expression, but he was still smiling, laughed it off and apologized.
Callisto learned two important things that day. The first was that the outside people were bad and selfish. The second was that the word “sorry” didn’t change that. Nothing changed that. It was an awfully profound lesson, for a child of seven years and eight months.
They took it in stride, not wanting to show their upset- for that was another lesson they had learned. Crying was a painful thing, and they’d rather go to their caretaker and cleaning bot, because they had this awful feeling that if they cried that man would try to comfort them. They swallowed, thanked him, and told him he could go. He did. They cried later that night, in the arms of metal beings. The next day, they started to work on building new bots, new friends. They recorded themself as they worked, saved the memories in careful archives.
Every now and then, Callisto went out. Age stopped mattering as they became a slightly older child, then a teenager, clambering over rocks and finding cool things, reading construction manuals in high places far above the castle in the cliffside. They found what few Dryllians were left alive, and invited them home. They came, and became castle staff. They still played hopscotch and jump-rope. Sometimes the castle staff joined. They stopped, when Callisto was too old, but Callisto kept playing. They built bots, many bots, of every kind, and changed old ones. The caretaker and the cleaning bot were treated as the highest nobles, simple bots that they were Callisto would always love them, help them. They kept pets, but pets would die, as did plants, as did people.
Living things were so fallible. They went so quickly, but they were so fascinating. The staff didn’t like it when they began to cut open rats, but the staff didn’t matter. The robots matter. The robots were the only ones that liked them. Their fathers journal laid abandoned beneath the bed, and Callisto began to fill their space with anatomical drawings, with blueprints, with parts and thoughts and words. Castle Dryl began to change under their hand as they filled it with traps, with circuitry, the walls could move now, the hallways spin. It began to be a living thing, a fallible thing, but all things were fallible, viruses could affect even the cleaning bot. But Callisto could fix it.
At least some of the staff stayed. Callisto was free to work on their tech, sipping on fizzy drinks and eating tiny foods which were each made up so pretty, each so different. Some days, they sat in the kitchen and learned about what sustained them. The chemistry was fascinating. They still played hopscotch and jump-rope with the caretaker and the cleaning bot, the skeletal old bots. They still recorded everything, archived it well.
They wondered, when they had to meet people, if they could take them apart. The books said that they could understand people too, that people had programs of their own. Social standards, protocols, signals, expressions and boldly language as indicators. Callisto tried their best to understand, but whenever they tried, they felt they were five years old, staring at the guts of their caretaker and not knowing what to do.
Smiles meant happy. Smiles could be sad. Smiles could be angry or nervous or friendly or unfriendly and Callisto was supposed to know which ones were which, but nothing they could find would tell them. It was scary. Eventually they stopped trying to interact with the castle staff. They just couldn’t understand them, and they wished they could just take them apart and see what the insides said. They wondered what the two frayed wires were, and how to connect them, make it all come to life.
They thought, when they met the princesses, that maybe it would work this time. Here people were, to see them! They had saved them, and the staff was livelier than they’d ever been! Was adventure what was needed to build friendships, and understand people? It was a thrilling, wonderful day and they had learned so much, from the tech and from observing these new people, fresh data in motion, all around them. Their life was thrown into wonderful chaos and they found themself agreeing to help these people, and supply them with weapons. They’d seemed happy.
Now they were in the Fright Zone. Alone. In the vents. It was familiar! Similar to Dryl, but they… they couldn’t find their way out. It was a little bit frightening, but they were going to be alright. They would just have to wait until their friends got back to save them, like they’d saved Glimmer. And they would be much easier to save than Glimmer, they weren’t much trouble, and no one would be left behind this time.
They just had to wait.
curious asks // anon
Are you a survivor or killer main in D.ead by D.aylight?
MARSHMALLOW // PART VOID, PART CHOCOBO, WHOLLY PERMANENTLY EXHAUSTED
I’m so sorry for what I’m about to say but neither hgfdfghjhgfghjk. I don’t have the game tho I watch YTers play it now and then. Idk why, but way back when it first released, it seemed like one of those Scary Horror Games. Didn’t help that survivors getting hooked squeaked me. Which I guess it technically is, but it’s lost the Scary factor over the years. If I did play tho, I think I’d main survivors. Less things to worry about. :’3
This is just a confirmation to avoid anxiety when I want to interact with you
By liking this post, you are giving me authorization to:
Send you IC Ask at any time
Send you memes
Turn an answer into a thread
Tag you in dash games
Tag you in starters
Talk to you OOC to plot
Tag you in inspo, musings or things that remind me about our muses
If any of these points don't apply (for example, you agree to everything except tag you in dash games) let me know >.< Thank you ♥
[ anticipate some major changes here (when i can get around to it) ]
Send "Mini scenario" + (Ryoko or Kosei) and I will generate a random scenario with this generator (I'm not responsible for what might happen lol)
“Um…M-Miss Velenna…?” The sorceress paused in her gardening, and sat back on her knees to look over at Michael. He seemed to falter under her gaze, as if he hadn’t been prepared to actually get her attention, and struggled for a few seconds to find his voice again. “M-…may I help you?” He asked haltingly. “I-I don’t know anything about gardening, but I can lear-.”
“Oh, child, I would love the help!” Velenna replied cheerfully, and almost a little too fast. Michael visibly relaxed, and Velenna waved him down into the garden where she still knelt. “Come, come! Let me show you how to harvest the leaves of the Teldeviir. They make for a delicious tea!”
this period pain can FUCK RIGHT OFF.
I want to write tabitha, shes so calling to me.
Who stretched their hand too much when they weren’t supposed to overwork it after their doctor/therapy/chiropractor? This lady. Right here.
(I wrote fic! And then I took longer to edit it than I took to write it, because I didn’t like my original draft.)
A Guardian is Never Late: ...but sometimes she arrives very, very early in the morning. Bayverse AU where Mikaela gets a guardian, because come on, she needs one, and it’s Arcee because I like that bit of fanon and want it to be a thing. And it happens at three in the morning, because alien robots don’t work on a convenient timetable. G, no warnings.
// While Ryoko is starting to be more distant and closing herself a bit, Kosei is giving hugs to whoever would like one, 'coz spring and he's happy lol
FFXIV Write 2021
// FFXIV Write Info // Prompts // Master post //
Prompt 21 Feckless
lacking initiative or strength of character; irresponsible
Set in pre ARR for Kien’s timeline so he is currently known as Roh’to. The aftermath of a failed hunt. Take this a prequel to this story. It’s basically the event that finally got him to leave. I will probably add on to this more once I go through all the prompts to edit and post on Ao3 :3
Cw; minor physical and verbal abuse.
“Hey! You worthless child, get up!”
The young Miqo’te groaned, his head still throbbing terribly as he was pulled from the depths of unconsciousness. He couldn’t quite recall what occurred before now, only knowing he had yet another strange vision about a place he’d never been to and the voices around him sounded angry. What just happened...?
“Such incompetence. I can’t believe he let it get away!”
“Who said he could come along anyways?! He didn’t even have the proper rite of passage to hunt!”
“Stop groaning, and get up!”
Someone nudged him with their boot rather roughly, causing another groan to escape him. He forced his heavy eyelids open, blinking sluggishly as the faces above him slowly blurred into focus before sitting up and rubbing his temple. “What happened…?”
“Tch. Typical,” One of his cousins scowled at him before straightening up and walking away. “We bring him on a hunt and he ruins it and doesn’t even recall how.”
The other person next to her remained at his level, her expression the only one to be one of concern as her eyes searched him up and down for any visible signs of injury. “Are you alright Roh’to? You passed out just now.”
The young Miqo’te, Roh’to, opened his mouth to speak as he slowly began to recall his vision but his other sister who was hovering behind Sahja with her arms crossed cut him off with a scowl.
“Don’t ask if he’s alright, Sahja!” She snapped. “He ruined the biggest hunt of the week!” She stepped forward and grabbed Roh’to up to his feet rather roughly, causing him to flinch as her grasp tightened on his arm.
“Rhaya! Let him go!” Sahja stood up, reaching a hand to her shoulder but she pushed her back, ignoring her younger sisters pleas.
She yanked on Roh’to’s arm again, earning a cry from the younger Miqo’te. “You want to know what happened?!” She growled as the younger Miqo’te flinched again. “You were supposed to be look-out and you failed us all! The biggest game we had been tracking for weeks got away because you went and passed out on us!”
“I didn’t do it on purpose!” Roh’to cried out as he tried to break free of Rhaya’s vice grip. “It was a headache! I didn’t have any control over it!” He tried to reason with her but all it did was earn him a swift slap to the cheek.
“Shut up! Thanks to your feckless behavior, we have to return empty handed!” She finally let go and he stumbled back from her, holding his still burning cheek. “Don’t bother following us for the rest of this hunt. Yurhi, take him back to the tribe and tell Roh’a what happened. Let the others deal with this useless sibling.” She turned on her heel to with a glare, moving to rejoin the rest of the hunting group who were all whispering and pointing at him.
Roh’to looked away, his head hanging in shame as tears began to prick his eyes. Why did he have to get a headache and vision during his first hunt? He finally had a chance to prove his worth to his tribe and he ruined it.
“It’s not your fault Roh’to,” Sahja began quietly but Roh’to couldn’t bring himself to meet her gaze. “Don’t worry, I’ll come to so Roh’a will go easy on you.” That small gesture brought a little relief to the young Miqo’te but Rhaya was suddenly facing them again.
“Sahja, don’t even think about helping him.” Her command caused Sahja to wince. “You’re to stay with us, that’s an order.”
Sahja squeezed his shoulder in apology, her gaze sympathetic before she quickly retreated to rejoin the others. Roh’to watched them leave with a heavy sense of uncertainty looming over him. He nearly forgot Yurhi was behind him, her voice causing a jolt to go through him.
“Come on Roh’to.” Yurhi snapped but she thankfully didn’t push him. “The sooner I get you back to the tribe, the sooner I can get the hell away from you. I rather not see what Roh’a and the elders will do once they know what you did.”
And she would be sure to exaggerate the story...as she always did.
“...Coming...” Roh’to tried to keep the quiver out of his voice as he dragged behind his sister back to the tribe. He wouldn’t be staying around long enough either to know what his older brother would do to him. As soon as he got back to his tribe, he planned to run away. Enough was enough. He wasn’t going to take this anymore.
This time for sure, he was going to start a new life.
My spoiled fractured nymph is making her birthday wishes in secret now... I mean, ofc she was never going to be completely honest with anyone unless they could not hear her...