I was reading your HCs/Imagines for FE3H and they all really made my night! I see you have a ton of requests so no worries if you can't but if you do have a moment might I ask for Father Ferdinand HCs? Thanks in advance~ @VioMariner on twit, VMariner on AO3
Hi, Vio! Iâve seen you around in the community; itâs so nice to hear from you! And thank you so much!
Of course you can have some Papa!Ferdinand; heâs a good papa :)
~Latte âĄ
Ferdinand von Aegir - Fatherhood HCs
Big family man; he wants lots of kiddos
Very likely to adopt orphans after the war
He spoils his little ones to no end; anything they want, he gets
Also canât correct them on anything, no matter how hard he tries
Would go to the ends of the earth to see them smile
Puppy dog eyes work on him literally every time
Fiercely protective, even from small things; no sticks and stones are gonna break their bones
Is quite scary when heâs actually upset at them for something, but it takes a lot to get him to that point
Never yells, only raises his voice
Teaches them to speak, dress, and act properly; âIt is a necessity of the nobility, after allâ
Would cry the first time he holds any his kids
Doesnât like messes; if they get dirty, they get a bath, no exceptions
The most affectionate father; especially after nightmares or when theyâre sick
Overworks himself to ensure his children have the best lives possible
Occasionally sits in a chair by their bedside, storybook still in hand, to watch them sleep; theyâre his angels, how can he not?
Oversees parts of their education, specifically their weapons training; horsemanship; and lessons in regional history, economics, and politics
Lets them braid his hair and will absolutely wear those flower crowns
Gets very sad when he thinks about how quickly theyâre growing up
Commissions a family portrait every year; they all hang in the manor
Very supportive of everything his kids do and all of their accomplishments
Has a drawer in his desk solely devoted to pictures and letters theyâve made him
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I love your writing so may I ask... Xigbar and Vexen sometime during KH3/In "real" OrgXIII with prompt 21) âIâm bulletproofâŚbut please, donât shoot me.â?
((Oh thank you!!! Iâm sorry Iâm SO behind on filling prompts, but hopefully better late than never, right? Right??? >.< Drabble Challenge! Send me a line from this list and Iâll write a lilâ something with it! :P))
The geezer had been spending too much time in Twilight Town.
Way too much time.
Now, none of the others seemed to think this was a problemâin fact, he had the deep-down, itchy-scratchy, gnarly little tingling suspicion that they hadnât even noticed. For all of his obsessions (and there were a LOT), for all of his suspicions (there were even MORE of those), Xehanort never really had an eye for squeaky wheels. Throw someone in a black cloak, give their eyes that nice, spooky glow? Bam. Hook, line, and sinker, you were off his radar.
Xigbar, though? Well, heâd been around the block once or twiceâŚor maybe a few times more than that. Squeaky wheels were something of a specialty of his. You had to know how to spot âem if you wanted to get rid of âem.
And you had to know how to read them if you didnât want to get rid of âem. You had to figure out their motivation, their wants, their fears. If you wanted to quiet those wheels, make them run more smoothly (preferably in the direction YOU were going), then shit. You had to know what kind of grease to use.
He hadnât spent too much time with Vexen before Oblivion. Mostly, that was because he had spent more than his fair share of time with Even in Radiant Garden, and fuck, he had had his fill of that within the first fifteen minutes of knowing him.
If personality was a continuum, Xigbar and Vexen were definitively on two wildly different ends. Vexen lived his life underground, frequenting the dark, moist places where only mushrooms and other unpleasant things seemed to spawn. In battle, he hid behind a shield. His friends were beakers and petri dishes and cadavers heâd already slit open and soaked in formaldehyde.
That wasnât how Xigbar rolled, nosireebob.
In short, he found Vexen (and by extension Even) to be annoying at best, creepy at worst, but hopefullyâhopefullyâuseful somewhere in the middle.
Because, again, the geezer had been spending a lot of time in Twilight Town. And even if the others in the Organization (ârealâ or not) didnât see him as a threat, Xigbar knew well enough that even the tiniest splinter could fester into an infection. Calling Vexen a splinter was, of course, a disservice to splinters everywhere, BUT the fact remained that heâd once served under Ansem the Wise (who was currently en route to Twilight Town himself, courtesy of a couple Xehanorts), AND his wiggly little Nobodies had been seen creeping their way through the path to the old mansion, AND his nonsensical babbling had been particularly nonsensical lately, ANDâŚ
Well.
He knew a spooked animal when he saw one, and Vexen fit that bill pretty nicely. Something was up. He could almost smell it. And maybe he didnât completely know what the old coot was planning, but did he really need to? He was as good at connect-the-dots as anyone else, and the picture mightâve only been starting to come together, but hoo boy. What a picture it was turning out to be.
So when the sewers filled with the icy chill heâd come to know and expect, he was already ready and waiting. The dark corridor appeared right where he thought he would, Vexenâs pale form only just stepping out when he let fly the first salvo. His grin was wide and loose and easy when Vexen yelped and recoiled, the corridor already closed, already gone, offering him no escape.
âNow this isâŚan interesting place to find you, huh?â Xigbar paused before chuckling. âNot really a surprise, I guess, becauseâŚâ he gestured vaguely to the dank, dripping walls, âYâknow. But still kinda curious, wouldnât you say?â
Vexen whirled around, his shield materializing before him. âWhat is the meaniâstop that immediately!â
His grin widened, causing the chasm of his scar to pucker. âUhâŚwhy?â In the tunnel, the sound of his arrowgun cocking echoed until it sounded more like a stampede of tiny, clawed monsters on the brick. âYou got that big olâ sheet of metal and iceâŚand clearlyâŚâ He released another shot, the projectile banging off the shield precisely in the spot that wouldâve been between Vexenâs eyes, laughing lowly when he yelled out again. âYouâre safe and sound behind it, soâŚwhatâs the matter, Vex? Why so nervous, bud?â
âJust because Iâmâstop that!!!âjust because Iâm effectively bulletproof doesnât mean Iâstop! Donât shoot me!â
It wasnât anything personal. Not really. Vexen had just been a little tooâŚopen with the others. Too obvious about his fears, his preoccupation with bodily harm. Two deaths, it seemed, had been two too many for him. Xigbar couldnât fault him that (not being the biggest fan of death, himself), but shit! Lesson Numero Uno of âHaving an Ulterior Motive 101âł was to not let others know how to best pull your strings.
âHey, hey, heyâŚweâre all friends here, right? Sure we are! Iâm just playing with ya. But heyâŚsince youâre here. Why donât we have a littleâŚconfab, you and I? A little chit-chat. Yeah, I think itâs about time we caught up, donât you? Iâve got some, uh, well letâs just call it what it isâprofessional interestâin whatever it is youâre doinâ down here. Maybe you can, I dunno, teach me something interesting.â
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