❝   Once  the  sacred  Ring  is  replete  with  power,  the  True  King  will  complete  his  ascension.  Only  then  can  he  banish  the  blight  upon  our  star.  By  the  power  of  the  Light  alone  is  the  Chosen  King  made  manifest.  With  the  Glaive  of  Kings,  the  Stone  of  Legend,  and  the  Ring  of  Light  in  hand,  the  Chosen's  power  will  surpass  that  of  even  the  gods  themselves.  By  that  selfsame  power,  with  the  True  King  as  its  vessel,  the  darkness  shall  be  purged  from  our  star,  and  dawn  shall  return  to  our  world  once  more.   ❞

#  𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐂𝐌𝐍𝐔𝐒   //      a  private  &&  selective  portrayal  of  FFXV's  Noctis  Lucis  Caelum.  With  elements  of  loss,  violence  &&  mental  anguish.  Trigger  warnings  and  dark  themes  will  be  present  on  this  blog.  I  delve  into  Noctis'  mindset  a  lot  and  unwrap  the  complexities  of  his  character.   I  will  not  downplay  any  part  of  him. 

Affiliated  with  :  Battleshot  ,  Topmechaniic.

They'd brought the Regalia in for a special upgrade. It would make travelling more manageable, but he could see the worried lines forming on Ignis' face -- probably at the thought of Noctis flying it. The Prince was known for getting distracted easily; that coupled with driving was bad enough at the best of times. And that was with all four wheels on the ground.

Still, he smiled as he imagined cutting the roads out completely and escaping the bumpy plains when they went off-road. Was he ready to fly? Absolutely.

Cindy’s voice drifted behind him as she wrapped up her rundown of the flight systems -- technical stuff, mostly. Noctis caught words like “stabilizers,” “altitude limits,” and “do not hit the big red switch unless you’re trying to crash,” but he was only half-listening. The Regalia hovered ahead, gleaming under the afternoon sun. It looked the same. Sleek. Regal. But now it had wings -- metaphorical ones, at least. She was about to leave the ground, and Noctis wasn’t the one behind the wheel.

He flopped into the passenger seat with a sigh, watching Ignis settle in with that composed, infuriatingly capable air. Typical.

He glanced back as the others piled in—Prompto already babbling about recording the whole thing, Gladio cracking some joke about in-flight snacks. Noctis wasn’t really paying attention. He had one hand on the armrest, fingers twitching like they wanted to steer something. The Regalia lifted smoothly. Too smoothly, actually. Noctis felt his stomach tilt, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he pressed his forehead to the glass, watching the ground slide away beneath them.

No more bumpy off-road detours. No more roadside daemons. Just air. Sky. Distance. It was kind of beautiful. And he wasn’t flying. He didn’t pout. Not really. Maybe just a little.

He leaned toward Ignis. “C’mon. Just for a little bit?” But his advisors look was more than enough for Noctis to get the meaning behind it. "Not even a little?" The look from Ignis was more intense, he could almost hear the disapproving sound of his name from his lips. He clicked his tongue and slumped back in the seat but soon enough a beep from the dashboard caught his ear, and a red warning light flickered. STABILIZER SYSTEM WARNING. "Uh... Ignis?" Noct leaned forward, watching as Ignis' hands tightened on the wheel. That wasn't a good sign.

And the Regalia tilted to the left side first, before her nose dipped down. Gladio had pulled Noctis back, his arm creating a barrier in front of the Prince, shielding him from the vibrations as the car hit the ground none too gently.

If he tried to say the road trip had started well, he’d be lying. The car had broken down not long after they had left the Crown City—barely out of its borders—leaving them stranded on the side of the road with no choice but to push it the rest of the way to Hammerhead.

Noctis and Prompto grumbled the entire way, their complaints ranging from how unfair it was to how their royal road trip had already gone horribly wrong. Noctis had even half-jokingly suggested calling someone to tow it, but Ignis had simply adjusted his glasses and reminded him that help wasn’t always a luxury they could rely on.

By the time they finally reached Hammerhead, Noctis was convinced his arms were about to fall off. His legs ached, his back throbbed, and he was fairly certain he’d never look at the Regalia the same way again. He all but collapsed against the car, groaning that he never wanted to move again—at least not for the next seventy-five years.

Gladio just snorted and told him to stop being such a princess, while Ignis let out a long-suffering sigh, already making a mental checklist of everything else they needed to take care of. Noctis had to agree. This trip was already off to a terrible start.

Camping was not on his list of things to do that night, especially in the middle of nowhere, and for the first night of having nothing soft to lie on; he couldn't settle. Trying his best to get out of the tent without waking anyone; he hadn't noticed right then that there was already one less person even in the tent.

That was, until he stepped outside and saw Prompto sitting on the edge of the haven, gazing out along the view. "Prom?"

"I bet the king himself doesn't have a view like this! I could stay up here forever."

Noctis gazed out over the plains, the night air cool against his skin as the tall grass swayed lazily in the breeze. In the distance, the mountains loomed against the horizon, their dark silhouettes cutting into the deep blue sky. The moon peeked out from behind them, its soft glow spilling over the rugged slopes and stretching across the open land, bathing everything in pale silver light.

Above, the stars shimmered like scattered diamonds, their faint glow reflecting in his tired eyes. The world felt quiet—still—a stark contrast to the chaos of the day. For a moment, he just stood there, letting it all sink in. Out here, under the endless sky, things didn’t feel quite so heavy.

It had not been an easy road—not for any of them. They had lost too much along the way, fragments of themselves that could never be reclaimed. Wounds that time would never truly heal. And yet, despite it all, they kept moving forward. Because they had to. Because he had to.

The King took a breath—one he did not need, one that would never reach his lungs. And yet, he took it anyway. Out of habit. Out of memory. Perhaps, out of longing.

A hand settled on his shoulder. He shouldn’t have felt it—there was nothing left of him to feel. And yet, he did. A warmth, an undeniable weight, something steady in the vast emptiness. A touch that made him feel real. A voice, familiar and distant, like a dream he thought he'd lost forever. His father’s voice.

For a moment, he closed his eyes, letting himself exist in that impossible comfort.

The price of the dawn had been steep. Unforgiving. It had taken everything from him. But he would pay it again. A thousand times over. For them.

"It will," he finally whispered, the words soft but sure. His gaze fell upon them—his brothers in arms, his dearest friends. They stood in the golden light of the new day, unaware of him, unable to see him. And yet, he was there. Watching. Protecting. Loving them still. They would remember him. Not as a king who sacrificed himself, not as a legend etched into history, but as he truly was—a friend, a brother, a man. The road they walked together, the battles they fought, the laughter, the sorrow, the moments in between—it would live on in them. And though their grief would linger, though the ache of loss might never fully fade, they would go on. They would find their way. That, more than anything, gave him peace.

The world would endure. Not because of him alone, but because of all who fought, all who suffered, all who believed in the light beyond the darkness. The world belonged to them now.

At last, Noctis could rest.

Turning, he met his father’s gaze—an image etched forever in his mind. He reached up, covering the old King’s hand with his own. A small, knowing smile touched his lips as he spoke the final words of his journey.

Honestly, it all depends on the OC themselves. I'm not against OC's as a whole in truth and I do appreciate the thought that goes into a lot of them. I have interacted with OC's in the past, both here and on my other blogs.

However, that being said. I don't interact with OC children of canon characters. That's my personal preference, its nothing against those who write these kinds of characters, I just personally don't interact with them. Expanding on that, I don't generally write with OC's who're related to canon characters either as a general rule. There is one exception to that last point but that is simply because of how it came about rather than anything else.

❝ we will make it through. ❞ @shieldofvalor // prompt from god knows how long ago.

“ So you say.. “ Noctis groaned, almost losing his boot in an effort to pull it out of the mud. His hair stuck to his face and he couldn’t tell where his shirt ended and his skin began. Soaked through to the bone that badly it was almost like they were one. “ But we’ve been stuck in this bog for half an hour and have only made it about a third of the way across. “

Next time Noctis opts for a shortcut, perhaps they should all tell him no.

Although he couldn’t have foreseen that the skys would open above them either, nor that the ground would shift beneath their feet and make their passing even harder. “ Maybe we should go back? “ It would take them just as long but at least it wouldn’t be as long as continuing on. Though he wasn’t about to complain about it; his knee was really beginning to hurt him. Maybe it showed on his face, that he was in discomfort. 

[ TEND ]:    sender and receiver tend to one another’s wounds in the aftermath of a fight. (from lunafreya 🤍) @celestrahl

𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐀𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐙𝐄, they’d been ambushed on the road; it had done nothing to instil confidence in his abilities. Watching Luna have to defend herself, he should have been quicker, he should have been stronger. Blue gaze locks onto the many cuts and bruises now forming on her arms, each one lancing through him; a guilt eating at him. If the others hadn’t been there, he knew the outcome would have been much worse.

“I’m sorry, Luna…” His voice quiet, reaching for one of the cloths to clean at one of the cuts on her arm. That route was supposed to have been the safest one they could travel by. Yet the monsters were getting braver by the day; something needed to be done about it. 

Gently he winds a bandage around her arm, knowing soon enough her brother would likely beat down the door and demand an explanation; he could already see that the blame would lie entirely at his feet. Ravus had never exactly seen eye to eye with Noctis, and he sure as hell didn’t like how close Noctis and Luna were. Could he blame him? She’d been hurt travelling with them. And though most of their wounds were superficial at best, that was only because they’d had guards with them.

𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐑𝐈𝐓 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐇, feeling that same swell of anger rising in his chest. His fist clenching at his side; Noctis had a sense of deep routed unease whenever the chancellor was around. From the way the man spoke, to what he said; the somewhat overdramatic way he moved... almost like he was mocking them.

" What do you get out of this? " He questioned, and were they really going to trust him to guide them through a darkened dungeon. Like nothing could go wrong with that plan. He knew they had little choice in the matter, yet it simply wasn't sitting right with him...