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@iraava

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Hi guys! What about Hataruno?
Very much inspired by this amazing fic! (Only a crush by Gingersoup)
Life & Death
Free ponytails thanks to Thresh <3 anyone?

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Welcome to the Spirit Blossom Festival đ¸
Tomorrow and Tomorrow
AO3 Version
Relationship:Â Bard!Reader/Ardbert
Rating: Teen
Summary:Â In which the you, the Warrior of Light and a bard, compose Tomorrow and Tomorrow after the events of Shadowbringers. Youâre having a hard time finishing the piece, but an unexpected (but not unwelcome) visitor shows up and becomes and equally unexpected muse for your soul.
-
Itâs a familiar sight, one that you keenly remember seeing since childhood. There is nothing particularly special about it in form nor function, but yet it is arguably the most beautiful sight that you can distantly recall seeing in quite a long time.
The sun, setting off in the distance, slowly falling to the western horizon far beyond the hills of Lakeland. You watch the scene in gentle awe, letting it wash over you in a sublime sort of wonder that is difficult to explain in words alone. There is truly nothing special about it in regards to how sunsets normally go, but you feel especially taken by the fading glow in the sky, shifting into the warm spectrum of red and orange that overtakes the entire sky.
Perhaps the sight is ever more wondrous because you know the pains it took to make it so. The pain, the effort, the sacrifices made just so you can gaze your eyes out over the fading light, content in the knowledge that the sky would soon embrace the world below with moon and starlight, the latter as numerous as the lives spent in trying to regain such a simple gift that forces had stolen away and threatened to swallow the world in misery and suffering.
Or perhaps still itâs because you have learned to appreciate it. It hadnât taken very long after your arrival upon the First for your body and mind to find such everlasting light stressful and anxious. When you would fall asleep and wake yet under the scorching, unnatural brightness of the sky above, such wonder befell upon you for what it must have been like for the multitudes of other people living in the First to endure it for over a century.Â
Regardless, you were not one to ignore such beauty even if you couldnât understand the reason for it; such was the nature of many things in the world, and you often had too many other issues to spend your thoughts on than of the natural mysteries of nature itself. Perhaps one day you will be able to make right on your words with the Exarch, of taking a well-deserved rest when the world was not beneath the shadows of those who would do her harm, but that day was not on the horizon just yet.
Until then, the sunset was a fitting, beautiful substitute to fill the expanse of your wandering thoughts for the evening. As the sun fell into the gentle embrace of the earth beneath it, and the sky began to fade from a brilliant fire and into a subdued indigo, you found a place upon the window sill with instrument in-hand.
And, as darkness gradually filled the sky above your head, so too did inspiration come into your heart, and then words upon your lips.
Keep reading
OKAY SO I WAS REWATCHING SOME CUTSCENES WITH A FRIEND AND SHE MENTIONED HOW THIS KID LOOKED LIKE A YOUNGER VERSION OF ARDBERT AND Iâ
[DRK 70 spoilers - 5.0 spoilers]Â
Visit to old friends
day 6 - amaro
partners in crime

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I was yelling about Arbert to a friend and I âÂ
On the one hand iâm so angry and upset that he isnât more of a popular character. That he lived such a horrid life and had everything stolen from him, manipulated and tossed aside to fuel a sick ârejoiningâ by shadowless creatures pulling the strings.Â
His best friend betrayed him, with all the love in her heart, because she felt as though she had no other choice. And he had to take an axe to his best friends, take their very lives, to try and fix his own mistakeÂ
Because it was his mistake. Cylva bid him to strike her down, and the world would be primed for a Calamity. But in sparing her, in making this last heroic act, he doomed his world. And then as the Flood started to swallow up his home, starting with distant lands, all he could do was stare, and come to the realization that it was his fault. Because he had love in his heart.
But no, thatâs victim blaming. Because it wasnât his fault at all, it was the Ascianâs fault.
Another one of these shadowless ones comes, wearing the white, the light that he hates so much, telling him that thereâs a way to fix it. that he can make this right. All he needs to do is sell his soul, become the heartless creature that Cylva bid him to be, and hasten a rejoining by terrorizing countless people on the Source. Just so he can save the souls on his world. He canât even save their lives! Not at all! All he can do is save their souls by causing a Rejoining and killing them all!Â
He had to kill his friends to get to the Source. Do you think he dug their graves? Laid them to rest? Who buried him, do you think? Or do you think he thought he didnât deserve his own grave, after the wrong and the mistakes he made?
How often do you think he broke down on the source, crying because he couldnât be the bad guy, but his people, they were counting on their hero, their Warrior of Light to save them? Like he had countless times before?
And then he met you, on the Source.Â
You who fought him, talked to him, heard his story. Youâre the person who did everything right, and won. He didnât. You made him see that there was still some goodness in the world, and he resolved to go back, and make it right.Â
But then, at the precipice of stopping the Flood. He watches as all his friends give up what little they have left, their very souls to power to stop their mistake. And his his mistake more than any of theirs. And so he lifts his hand, content in the knowledge that heâll help, one last time.Â
Only to be told no.Â
A hundred years he wandered the land, utterly alone. His voice unheard, his gestures unseen. He watched, over and over and over, as the people he was prepared to destroy himself for were killed, picked off, eaten by the creatures that came out because of his mistake. I kinda canât help but wonder â do you think he tried to end it all, despite his ghostly formâŚ?Â
And then you came.Â
You, the Warrior of Light that succeeded. That didnât have to kill your friends. That won every battle you came across. How can he not hate you, just a little? Or be jealous? He tried being the hero, and it didnât work out. So he tells you that the world is beyond saving, because he tried. He tried, so, so hard.Â
But you prove him wrong, bit by bit, by taking back the Night. Proving to him that life is worth living, that life went on, even in spite of something that he blames himself for. You travel around, changing lives left and right, and sometimes it isnât even big! Sometimes itâs just a simple word, or retrieving a childâs doll. But all of them are affected. Itâll be alright. Itâll be alright.Â
And then you fail. You canât keep the Light. And the skies, the night that he saw you return, is stolen away from him once again. But heâs seen it now, heâs seen how youâre like him, how you did everything right, and still, still it came to this.Â
So he gives you the words, the reassurance that he couldnât ever have. He promises to be with you, until the end of the line. Because how could he not? Youâre his friend, after all, something like his other half, he thinks. So he helps you, makes sure youâre alright. Keeps you grounded, when the Light threatens to become too much. You hold the salvation or the damnation of his entire world in your heart, but he only wants to make sure youâre alright.Â
And then the words, âin our time, you and he were one soul.âÂ
Everything slots into place. Everything slots into place with frightening speed, and the connections, the words, the banter, how well you two got on, it all makes sense. But now youâre different people, worn down by eons of rebirth in the Lifestream, but still, youâre alike. Two sides of a coin, different yet connected in a way thatâs impossible and grand.Â
So when the Warrior of Light, the Warrior of Darkness falters, he does not hesitate to offer his soul. He knows he wonât be fading, heâll be coming home. Complete. That everything will be worth it, somehow, despite the fact that heâll never be again. All his mistakes, his failures, his life and trials and triumphs, it does not matter, because you accept him. You love him.Â
You fight as one.Â
Shadowhusbandos! Â
did i succeed in making him look stupidly in love? *u*
13. âi thought you were dead.â
This definitely became something different to what I initially envisioned. But, thatâs okay. Writing has been troublesome, so Iâm just writing when the mood strikes and hoping for the best.
Takes place a few weeks after the ascent of Mt. Gulg.
--
Phaedra stirred, and immediately regretted it. Her head was pounding and she could feel pain that stretched all the way from the tips of her fingers into her bones. She took a breath. Something in her chest cracked and a shock of pain lanced through her body causing her to bolt upright in response. Sparks flashed across her vision. It sounded like glass was shattering inside her skull as she clasped her head in her hands. All her memories were muddled and confused. She tried to think back. The surface beneath her was soft, and it was quiet. She could remember moments. Agony coursing through her veins. Something inside her threatening to rip her apart as it tried to break out and she fought fruitlessly to contain it. She could recall a gunshot. Vauthryâs transformation. The arrival of Feo Ul with the fae folk, and them facing off against sin eaters during the ascent of Mount Gulg. She remembered white ichor tasting coppery on her tongue and spitting it on the ground. The rawness of her throat. The Exarchâs hood flying back revealing a familiar, yet saddened face. And then⌠Then nothing. Nothing that could help her put together how she was alive and how she returned to the Crystarium.Â
Not that any of it was really important. None of that really mattered; she was simply looking for something else to focus on beyond the fact that chimed repeatedly in her head. Emet-Selchâs portent; that through containing the corrupted light of the Wardens she, herself, was becoming something much, much worse. If --when-- that happened, she would be a creature bent on nothing but destruction. A creature far worse than anything she or her comrades had faced thus far.Â
âI thought you were dead.â A voice spoke to her from a small distance away, familiar and attempting to be jovial. The sound cut through Phaedraâs mind like a blade slicing open a wound and she flinched away from it. She peeked through the fingers blinking slowly to let her eyes adjust; for some reason the edge of her eyesight was blurry and bright. âAt least for a little while.â
âLet us be about it, Heroâ
So I wanted to practise drawing some good olâ armour because Iâm crap at it, so I came up with drawing something to do with FFXIV.. I think I lost the will to live after drawing Ardbertâs.
FFXIV: Sqaure Enix
This WOL: Me :)Â

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Whisper
this is the way