#yueh-chan

[thebiscuiteternal]

Something between Coran and Illyere after the Queen being revived?

Can do!

Two days after he’d found her sleeping with Shiro in the archives, Coran came across his Queen sitting in what had been Allura’s old playroom. “Illy?”

She raised her head from where she’d been curled in the swisher chair -asleep?- and the smile was weak, but welcoming. “Hey, Red. Come on in,” she murmured, unfolding herself to put her feet back in her shoes. 

He obeyed, taking a seat on his customary chair and trying not to pay attention to the dark circles under her eyes that made the glow of her markings stand out even more. “Allura said you weren’t at dinner,” he said, soft and concerned. “Are you alright?”

“I... don’t know,” she said, her breath coming out in a soft huff. “You’d think I’d be ravenous all the time, wouldn’t you?” She looked herself over and chuckled, but the sound was brittle, hollow. “But it’s like my body’s afraid to eat. It was afraid to sleep before, and now it’s afraid to eat.” She looked at him, and the expression on her face made his heart clench. “Does that even make sense?”

Coran swallowed, then took off his glove and reached out to take her hand, rubbing his thumb across her knuckles soothingly as he’d done in a birthing room so, so long ago. Glories, she was so cold... “You’ve been through something horrible, Illy. You’ve been gone so long. Maybe your body is having to re-learn what it’s like to be home..”

“Mm... that... sounds right...”

He tugged gently, and she came out of the chair, curling up beside him. Long curls spilled into his lap and over his back, and he tried not to think about how different they felt or smelled compared to his memories. “You know,” he said, rubbing her back soothingly. “Most of your dresses are still in one of the closets here.”

She made a faint snort of surprise and raised her head. “What?”

“Allura insisted. Every time the nurses tried to put them away in storage or give them away, she’d make the most horrible hellraising tantrum. Wouldn’t let them touch those or Vulluna.”

Illyere’s expression softened, eyes widening a little. “She... still has Vulluna?”

“Mhmm. How about you change, and then go ask her to show you?”

“I... Hm... That sounds good,” she murmured, getting up and letting him guide her to the correct closet, and he politely turned his back to let her dress.

“Okay.”

When he turned back around, she’d picked the high-collared wine and pink gown with bishop sleeves and Mabarka copper-diamond accents. “Y’know, that was Allura’s favorite.”

“Lucky choice... I don’t remember that.”

“Well, you’ve got me for that.”

Illyere smiled, and her whole form seemed to lighten with it, making the sour feeling in his chest disappear. “I do, don’t I? C’mon, Red. Let’s go.”

“Anywhere you like, Illy.”

[aithilin]

for the Fluffabet thing - Prom/Noct with P - Photo? I love your writing so much

“Why don’t you do that?” Noctis once asked when they were still in high school. When they were sat together on the edge of the grass, uniform jackets spread out beneath them as they enjoyed the short stretch of time they had between the end of classes and Ignis’ arrival to pick Noctis up.

“What? Selfies?” The craze had hit their school hard— the girls and boys all lining up with shots from their phones, smiles and pouts and flattering angles found by accident. There were challenges and gatherings, selfies traded between friends from every corner of the city. Spur of the moment shots when compliments were easily spilling from teenage lips. “Who’d want pics like that of my ugly mug?”

“I wouldn’t mind some,” Noctis spotted the car first— the sleek royal grey pulling up, Ignis the picture of perfect Citadel poise as he greeted the prince. “We still on for tomorrow?”

“Yeah! See you at eight, buddy.”

Prompto knew more than most about cameras. He remembered the cheap little digital thing bought on sale at a department store when he was little. When he only knew that there were things he wanted to keep for himself.

When he wasn’t happy with himself. The rest of the world was far more interesting.

He knew how to angle shots, how to pose and use the lighting. He knew what worked to flatter eyes and lips, hair and moods. He knew that the kids in his school just got lucky with their shots most of the time. They didn’t think about what they were doing when they just turned the camera towards themselves and started snapping.

There were thirty pictures taken before he settled on one he could keep. One that he was satisfied with enough to send to Noctis later that night, as he listened for his parents getting home. The rest were trashed before he even thought to take another glance through them.

He was in the middle of his homework when he got a response. When he saw the notification and held back from leaping to see just how bad it was, just how much Noctis was laughing at him. He expected things like ‘I regret asking’ and ‘you’re making a weird face’. He expected emoticons of laughing faces and whatever else he’d have to laugh off later.

Looking good, Prom.

He stared at the message in surprise. He re-read it. He checked that it had been sent to the right number. And he smiled.

Back at u.

The reply was sent late into the night. After he was certain Noctis was asleep.

Years later, Prompto thinks nothing of putting his arm around Noctis, of turning the camera to them to catch a spur of the moment shot.

“I can’t believe how many selfies you take!”

Noctis laughed each time. He grinned for the photo, for the quick second it took, and leaned in close to make sure they were in there together. He never pulled away or fought off the camera, the hug, the easy arm around his shoulders or waist to pull him in.

He never complained about the shots Prompto took of a quick kiss pressed to cheeks, or when they were pressed close together in the tents— camera held above them both.

“I’m too pretty for just one pic, dude!”

“I’ll say.”

[aithilin]

NyxNoct F - Forgetful

Warping was less a talent and more a finely honed skill. Nyx had worked at it for years despite his apparent knack for the royal trick. He had spent months alone in the training yards, running from his nightmares, focusing on these little pieces of magic that had been loaned out to him and his comrades. When the skill was being taught to his little group of labrats as a foundation for the Kingsglaive, he had watched old footage of a smiling Regis demonstrating the power. He had watched the battlefield footage of a young King laughing with his own friends out on some snippet of adventure that had only been captured on film by accident. There were demonstrations filmed for study, for art, the strange gift of the royal family laid bare like its magic as people and politics demanded more transparency and less mysticism.

Nyx had studied all of those pieces of instruction when he was learning. He had never bothered to correct anyone when they said that he had a talent for it— that warping came effortlessly. He never let them know that his skill came from long nights memorising the way the borrowed magic curled around him and pulled him. Or working on a focal point.

He never let on that he had learnt how to warp outside of the necessities in battle. That he liked the way the magic pulled him through reality to shatter against a target. That in the minuscule amount of time he was outside of reality, he knew that he was inside the crystal. That their weapons were their focal points to drag them through it. To keep them from burning up inside it.

Like pests finding hidden passageways in churches.

Nyx was proud that he had figured out that little secret. That he could wrap the magic around himself just as easily as the king. As the prince.

He was proud that he had found ways to warp that didn’t require throwing his weapons around.

He was less thrilled that he didn’t use something stronger than a pencil when warping six storeys up from the streets of Insomnia.

The traffic passed by below without noticing him. Pedestrians wandered on their routines without looking overhead, where he was tossing a pebble up and over to the next empty balcony. The Wall arching above shimmered and wavered in the afternoon light, the sun glaring across the stretch of glass and concrete that made up Insomnia, and no one bothered to step out to their balconies to admire the view. To where he was scrambling over the railings and practically taunting death as he followed a focus point— a broken toy from one balcony, a discarded hazelnut, a pebble, a pen— to where he needed to be.

It was a pen he used for his last jump.

He nearly missed.

Gripping the edge of his target balcony, thirty floors up from the street and with a wonderful view of the Citadel, Nyx scrambled to keep his hold. He figured this would be the only occupied balcony in the entire city.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Ulric?” Gladio grunted as he hauled Nyx to safety, letting the Glaive sprawl at a very surprised Noct’s feet. There was a book thrown aside, a drink tipped over, and three other very concerned faces staring at him in disbelief.

Nyx had the decency to offer a sheepish smile as he brushed himself off once he regained his footing. “I forgot my keys.”

There was a collective groan from the prince’s retinue as Noct himself punched Nyx’s shoulder. “You could have called, hero. Or at least asked the doorman to let you in.”

“Forgot about that too.”

“Idiot.”

“Your idiot.”

“Still an idiot.”

“Do I still get to stay for lunch?”

[aithilin]

yueh-chan replied to your post “Fluffabet - P - Photo - NyxNoct? I love reading your stuff!”

*loud shrieking noises* I LOVE IT THANK YOU!!!

Thank you for the prompt! 

[aithilin]

Fluffabet - P - Photo - NyxNoct? I love reading your stuff!

Well this is ridiculously sappy. But that’s what the Fluffabet is for!

“This one?”

There was a game that they played a times. When they could steal some time to themselves and run off to the depths of the city. When they could hide away in the little den Nyx had made and pretend that there was no one else in the world. That there was nothing else in the world. That they could pretend that the rest of the city— all its chaos and noise and carefully constructed image of peace— had fallen away the moment Nyx set the deadbolt on the door.

Nyx liked to think of it as a game, at least.

They would sit on the floor with the pillows from the bed. Nyx propped back against his armchair, and Noct propped against him. The metal container from beneath the bed— full of the little keepsakes Nyx had kept close, had never lost— settled between Noct’s legs as he felt his way through them.

“How do you even know that’s a picture? I could tell you it’s an old menu from my bar.”

“The paper,” And Noct would hold the photograph back for Nyx to take from him. “And the size. And why the hell would you have a menu for a bar?”

“It was a nice place, it needed a menu.”

There would be drinks shared between them, bottles or cans set aside as they played this game. As Noct settled back to listen to the story that came with the photograph.

They had gone through the mementos of the corkboard Nyx used to keep propped up on his table— having hung the thing up so it wouldn’t fall when Noct was getting used to the apartment. Nyx had gone through the newspaper clippings and the invitation every recruited Glaive had received. He had gone over the images, saved from the fires that razed his hometown when the Nifs came, and when he had decided what path he would take. He had told Noct that the board was for all the things that kept him fighting, and all the things that shaped his path in Insomnia.

The box was for the special things. For anything that was worth protecting.

The memories he didn’t want on display for just anyone.

“So, hero? What’s that one?”

“My dad.” His father was smiling in the picture. The same wolfish grin Nyx saw in his own smile. They had the same look, everyone said. Selena had all the grace, Nyx had all the charm. Their dad had always said they got the best parts of him. “Right before I opened the bar with Libs— when we bought the place.”

“You okay?”

“Yeah.”

He had told Noct about Selena, about his mother. He had told Noct about the dangerous crossing into Lucis and the fear from when he and Crowe and Libertus had to be separated for safety until they could meet again in the city. He had told plenty of stories about his little island and it’s traditions, and the way the Nifs first came bearing peace. He had told Noct about the way the slick rocks of the shore scarred his hands when he climbed them as a kid, and the ways he’s climb the canyon walls during his childhood adventures. He talked about the way the ocean spray would cling to his clothes, and how they’d find sand for days after a trip out to the tourist beaches of the bigger port cities. There were ruins in the forest, overgrown and slowly being picked apart by the island.

And now he talked about his dad.

How his father had organised a resistance to the Nif occupation, and rallied the town in secret. How, when Nyx was young, his dad would be out most nights, only ever saying that he was out at a bar with his friends. Nyx understood later that it was a lie to protect him and Selena, in case they were ever asked questions about him.

“I wanted to run a bar because of that,” Nyx nearly laughed at his own youthful naivete. “Guess I thought he’d come to my bar instead.”

“What happened?”

“The Nifs got him. I think. I don’t really know. About a week after Libs and I bought the bar, he disappeared with a bunch of the other troublemakers. Official story we got was that he was on a boat that capsized in rough water, since he helped out the fishermen from time to time when it was tough.”

Noct was quiet for a moment, hands moving to stroke Nyx’s thighs as he leaned back against the Glaive. He tried to offer his comfort. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, little star. It was a long time ago. He was a good man.”

“So the heroics—”

“Don’t start,” Nyx set the picture down and wrapped his arms around Noct, relishing the solid form of him. Enjoying the way he could fold himself to fit so well. “Pick another one.”

Another photo from the container was selected. It was more recent, and happier, and Nyx smiled as he pressed a kiss against the back of Noct’s neck.

“This one.”

“It’s you.”

“Me?” Nyx knew the face Noct would be making at that. He knew the confused little scowl at the idea that there were pictures of him in existence to begin with. “Why?”

“Because I like you.”

Nyx took the picture and admired it. “From that night in the haven in Leide. Right after you got those Royal Arms.”

“When Prompto was documenting everything?”

“Exactly. He was sprawled out by the fire when he got this one. Right on the ground— you know how he is.”

“So what’s it like?”

“It’s beautiful.”

“Shut up.”

“It is!” Nyx laughed, even as Noct jostled him with the threat of an elbow to his side. “You’re probably talking to Iggy or something, but it was when you were right at the edge of the haven. He got the night sky behind you, and everything looks blue from the magic of those things. You look like a star.”

Noct made a disgusted noise and Nyx grinned again— photo aside and hugging Noct close.

“You look like you belong with the stars, little king. Like they’re in your eyes.”

[thebiscuiteternal]

yueh-chan

  Nobody asked about it, but I would just like to...

yes, yes it is

::high five::

[amongthegentlymad]

⭐️⭐️!!

Two facts about me!

- I hoard collect old books I love them so much. A lot of them have been old ones I’ve rescued from library donations that would have gone into the garbage otherwise or ones I’ve inherited from my dad (who also loves old books) I’ve got some neat 19th century books among my collection!

- my favorite dessert is red velvet cake

send me a star

[amongthegentlymad]

yueh-chan replied to your post “One of the neighbors in my unit is blasting rock music at epic levels...”

perhaps they noticed something up close and are checking?

Probably yeah just like...woah man early morning drama at the apartments