ex-shark-virtue-005:I found this on Facebook and

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ex-shark-virtue-005:

I found this on Facebook and it’s actually super important:
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Yay! Prompto deserves parents who care! Although, would Cor fight Nyx and Titus who should adopt Pro

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EEEEEEYYY!! Sorry this took a bit to respond to (IfrigginforgotIhadn’tactuallyrespondedlikethenumbnutIam)

I had to think about this for a bit, buuuuut-

I think what would go down is something along the lines of—

“Ugh.. Why is there so much paperwork involved in adopting? This is fff-” said Titus, probably. At some point, while bitching to Cor.

Cor, who is just about the only Lucian that knows Titus is mated to Nyx.

”I thought you two said that Corvus was going to be your last?”

”Yeah, that was BEFORE we found out that Ves’s best friend is being neglected. Those idiots regularly leave him alone for WEEKS at a time!”

”……They… they WHAT?! Oh…This will not stand. I’m helping with this and I only ask for one thing.”

”….. Uh.. ok?”

”Grant me partial custody. You get him one week, I get him the next.”

Titus squints, then jolts with an epiphany.

“You are the one that Prom gushes about?! Well shit, this got so much easier. Nyx and I were concerned about having to contend with a third party, but this is fantastic! Hold on-” he pulls out his phone to speed dial his mate.

——

Yeah no fighting for the sunshine child. Prom ends up getting THREE new parents AND four siblings. Best. Day. Ever.
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artemiscalled:

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artemiscalled:
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saltybatman: — death would be kinder than her

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saltybatman:

— death would be kinder than her touch // k.s.
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Throw Me To The Wolves Inspired

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hamelin-born:

secret_engima I blame you for this ficbit/worldbuild lore. I kept wondering about stories, and a comment that I tossed out in a world build about how Galahd’s motto might as well be ‘We Remember’ in this ‘verse and I - I wondered about the stories that are told. 

tagging sparklecryptid ertrunkenerwassergeist starsilvereld theotherguysride and charlottedabookworm aniseandspearmint

Harken and attend, children of Galahd, blood of the Storm. Listen, for I tell you a tale that my parent told me, and their parent told them in turn, all the way back to the beginning of the story. I tell you the tale as it was told to me, and as you will tell it in turn. 

I tell you this tale, for it is true. 

Remember. 

Keep reading

sparklecryptid ertrunkenerwassergeist starsilvereld theotherguysride charlottedabookworm aniseandspearmint secret_engima

So I felt like writing more. 

Hear and remember, Children of Galahd, Blood of the Storm. Children of the wave-wracked rocks, where the sea hurls itself in endless, unceasing effort to call its offspring home. Listen, for I tell the tale as my parents told it to me, as theirs told it before them, back to the beginning. I tell you this tale as you shall tell it in turn, to your children, and they to theirs, until the last star seeps from the sky, until the winds have vanished and the ocean is silent evermore.

I tell you this tale, for it is true.

Remember. 

This is the tale of Vitae. 

You have heard the story of the fall of sunbright-Solheim, and what transpired; of how the Infernian rose and raged and fell. You have heard the tale of what came after, of Ardyn the Gentle and his beloved, Aera Godspeaker. And you know well the fate that befell them at the hand of Somnus Kinslayer, Somnus the Betrayer - whose hands in turn were guided by the Blademaster, the Sword-God, He Whose Name I Will Not Utter Hear. 

You have heard the tale of how Vitae, the child of Ardyn the Gentle and Aera The Woman, ran from the great oath of Somnus Kinslayer - ran to the edge of the world and beyond, to throw herself on the mercy of Storm and Sea. And how Storm and Sea alike rose up and bore her to a land that was yet unnamed, a land still fresh and untried with its strength. A land unnamed, except to its people, who loved it then as they loved it now - a land whose name is a tale of itself, which I shall not speak of now. 

Vitae came to Galahd, and the world changed. 

It was the hunters of Clan Ulric who came upon Vitae as she stood on the shores of rain-wracked Galahd, and they knew her for Storm-born, for a child of Storm and Sea. They did not know her name; they did not know her history, or her father’s name, or her mother’s. They knew her only as a child, a child with calloused, bleeding hands, a child who turned to them with eyes as bright as the sky after the storm. 

They knew her only by the name she told them, and that name was Vitae. 

And the Clan Ulric, who take their blood from the Coeurl but their name from the wolf-pack, opened their arms to Vitae, and brought her into their clan. Into their hearts, and into their family. They gave her their name, and they did not ask her of her past, and for this Vitae blessed them, as she healed in the heart of the Storm.

And as Vitae healed, she healed others in turn - for hers was the blood of Ardyn the Healer and of the First Oracle. She drew the Scourge of the Stars from the veins of those long since lost to hope; she set bones long since healed awry, and even the most mortal of wounds fell before her, dwindling to naught. And for this the people of Galahd blessed her - and asked no more of her then she would give. 

For the people of Clan Ulric saw the fear that lurked in the heart of Vitae Ulric. The fear she had learned from the death of her kin - the fear of being asked for what was hers along to give, the fear of being set to heal, of all the wounds and worries of the world being placed on her shoulders alone, until she was no more then her gifts, and what they could do two benefits others. 

And that fear, that fate, is an abomination, children. Remember this, always: do not ask for what is not yours to give. 

And so the people of Clan Ulric safeguarded Vitae from her fear. And Vitae wept tears of storm, and her cries were the waves as they break across the beach as the specter of her terror was conquered utterly, for Galahd shielded her ever as the great Oath of the Usurper beat and wailed and broke upon the Storm.  

And so Vitae of Clan Ulric grew, and in time she won the right to carry the twin blades of a blooded hunter. Many and mighty were her deeds and her names, for she was the Wolf-Lord, the Defiant, the Unfettered. She was Stormborn and Wavecast, Foundling and Found - she was Clan Chief of Clan Ulric, She Who Leads the Storm, and coeurls taught her their wisdom. 

And yet, ever and always, did Vitae’s mind turn to the fate of her father, Ardyn the Gentle. Ardyn, whom scourge and gods would not even allow so much as to die. Ardyn, whom the brother of his blood had named Accursed and Adagium - and decreed imprisoned in Angelgard for all time. 

Always, always, did Vitae’s thoughts turn to her father, and his fate. Always did Vitae mourn and rage for the man who had sought only ever to heal, who had stood with outstretched hands and a smile like the welcoming dusk. 

In those days, Angelgard was as yet unassailable, for the Kinslayer still moved and walked among his people. On the Island of the Gods he had set a watch a thousand strong, of men who bowed to the sword and the axe, and who worshipped the Betrayer as the Chosen of the Gods. In the waters of the seas he had set a navy, twenty ships strong, to patrol and keep watch for those who yet remembered the truth of the King of Light. And in the minds of his people did Somnus spread his lies - lies, that he and his were the Kings Chosen, the Kings Foretold. 

And Vitae knew the fate of her father, and planned. 

There must be a watcher, Vitae thought. There must always be a watcher, to keep watch on Angelgard. To see and remember the men who stood there, the ships that sailed, the lies that spread until the people of Lucis could no longer remember the truth. 

There must be a sailor, Vitae planned. A sea-treader, a walker of the whale-road. To slip past the ships that chained Angelgard; one undaunted by storm of creeping fog. A master of their craft, one who plied the sea in raging wrath or utter calm.

There must be a shadow, Vitae schemed. A shadow, for the day to come. A shadow, to slip past the soldiers and blind their eyes; a silence that walked on soundless feet to slip past watching guards and steal through locked gates. One who came and went, and left nothing in their wake, not even the faintest suspicion of their presence. 

There must be a caster, Vitae knew. For Angelgard would be guarded by more than men alone, but by magics ancient and terrible. By magics cast by the blood of Kinslayers and gods who saw and looked and cared not for the suffering of those who loved them. There must be a caster to guard against the unseen, to unpick wards and weave them up again so that none would know of their presence. 

There must be a healer, Vitae mourned. A healer, to care for the man imprisoned in a cell of unfeeling rock. A healer, to tend to wound years untended, to blood that flowed black with agony unrelenting, to a mind long lost to grief and wrath and isolation. 

And there must be a warrior, Vitae thought. A warrior, should all else fail. A warrior, to bring the storms and unless Wrath upon the island. A warrior, with a strong back to carry her father Home. 

And Vitae Ulric, Vitae Wolf-Lord, Vitae who was Clan Chief and Vitae Defiant, gave her life to this. To Galahd; she reached out her hands to the Ostium, to the Altius, to the Arra. She held out her hands to the Furia, to the Lazarus, to the Praesidium and so many more; her life she gave to the Great Alliance that links the Clans to this day, so that we are Galahd and not an island inhabited by scattered, warring tribes. So that we are warriors and watchers, shadows and sculptures, singers and dancers and all we could wish to achieve. 

And Vitae Ulric bore four strong children in her turn, and she told her children thus: There must be a watcher. There must be a sailor. There must be a shadow. There must be a caster. There must be a warrior. 

Remember the coeurl, that strikes from ambush, Vitae told her children. Remember the human, who can watch, and think, and plan. Wait. Though it breaks your heart with waiting, as it has broken mine - wait. Wait, until the time is right, and remember. 

And so did her children tell it to their children, and their children in turn, and their children, on and on unending. 

Until the day came that the Watcher, a Vitae of all Clans, came and told them that this was the time. That the people of Lucis had grown lax with time unchallenged; that the watch on Angelgard had dwindled to a presence alone and not an army, that the Adagium was a rumor, a legend, a myth - 

And there was a Sailor, who carried them to the island even as the Storm howled its fury. There was a shadow, to bear them past the watching guards. There was a caster, to unweave the ancient wards. 

And in the very heart of Angelguard, in a tomb of naked rock and silent dust, there was a warrior, who struck off the chains that bound Ardyn the Gentle, Ardyn the Accursed, the Night’s King. And there was a healer, who took him in their arms and bound his hurts. 

And five hundred years after Vitae set the watch, Ardyn’s people carried him home. 

This is the story of Vitae Ulric, and how she saved her father. 

Remember. 
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