ffxv_kinkmeme | Prompt Post

Welcome to Round Two of the FFXV Kink Meme!

CLOSED for prompts | OPEN for fills

Please have a look at the extended rules here.

The important rules in short:

Post anonymously.
Negative comments on other people's prompts (kink-shaming, pairing-bashing etc.) and personal attacks of any kind will not be tolerated.
Don't be an asshole.
One prompt per comment. Warnings for common triggers and squicks are encouraged, but not required.
Prompts should follow the format: Character/character, prompt.
Keep prompts to a reasonable length; prompts should not be detailed story outlines.
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Otherwise please avoid changing the subject line.

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Prompt, write, draw, comment, and most importantly have fun!

(You can also check out our Pinboard for Filled or Unfilled prompts)

UPDATE 3/2/2017: Per the Rules thread: Do not hijack prompts. If someone posts a prompt for one pairing, don't comment to say "I want to see this for [other kink]" - post your own prompt for the other kink). To that end, if you are unclear on a prompter's kinks/DNWs, please feel free to ask about them. If you ask about kinks/DNWs or to clarify a prompt, you are in no way obligated to fill it.

Additionally: Do not repost prompts from the previous round in their entirety. By this we mean copying and pasting prompts without any changes. If you see a similar prompt to a prior prompt, that is not a repost. Obviously prompts that are reposted per the above rule do not count either. (After all, they will be similar but not the same.)

ROUND TWO IS NOW CLOSED FOR PROMPTS!

Go ahead and keep on filling away, we will open up round three for prompts at 0000 EST, Saturday April 22, 2017.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From: (Anonymous)

TW: Forced detransition

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Lunafreya didn’t speak to him for two weeks. They were the worst two weeks imaginable. Ravus spent them curled up in his room trying and failing not to cry, or being dragged out of his room by interchangeable human soldiers to meet with the general about his Ascension. “Meet” was a strong word: mostly he half-listened to the general talk, nodding at the appropriate points, and waited for it to be over.

The general had plans for Ravus. There were to be fittings for a new, “more appropriate” wardrobe; lessons in etiquette and deportment of a young lady, as if Ravus were an infant; drills on what to say to whom and when; and a thousand other, similar things that were all meant to make him appear “normal” on the day.

Ravus cared about precisely none of it. The only thing that mattered was the timeline: three months. He had three months to prepare to be Oracle, three months to mourn his family, three months to say farewell to his entire life. Even his body was no longer his own. He didn’t have to ask to know that there would be no more shots coming. They would never allow such a thing, even if imports from Lucis could still be had. This was the last time he would have the body that was at least mostly his. (They had been starting to talk about surgery, in a year or two, but no chance of that now either.)

After two weeks of silence, Lunafreya finally tapped on his door (she was the only one who would bother to knock). She had Umbra and Pryna at her feet. They looked like they were considering which cuts of meat would be best on the guards still stationed outside his and Lunafreya’s rooms. Perhaps they were why no one had stopped Lunafreya from leaving her room.

Ravus stood up straight and tried not to look like he had just been crying, even though he had. “What is it, sister?”

She looked up at him, and he could see that she had been crying too. “May I come in?”

“Of course.” He beckoned her and the dogs into his room and shut the door, and no one stopped him from doing either. So far had he fallen that such seemed like a freedom.

“I thought,” Lunafreya said, her voice suspiciously even, “that I should bring Umbra and Pryna to you, since they are to be yours now.”

Ravus simply stared at her. Why would she think such a thing? “But – they’re your dogs.”

She shook her head, the way she did when she thought he was being silly. “They aren’t ordinary dogs, but Messengers, who serve the Oracle. You know that, Ravus. So they serve you now, not me.”

“I…see.” He wanted to be pleased that she was acknowledging him as Oracle, but he wasn’t. “I never meant to take your companions from you.”

“You meant to take my calling from me,” she said in the same soft, steady voice that never failed to cut him to the quick.

“No – Lunafreya, it isn’t like that!”

The stamp of her foot was a relief. Her anger he knew how to handle; her disappointment, never. “Then what is it like, Ravus? I was to be Oracle! I was prepared! And then you took that from me!”

“You were prepared to die!” Ravus retorted, raising his own voice.

“I was prepared to help people!”

“And die!”

Lunafreya looked properly angry now, tears of fury welling in her eyes. “And now you are to die! What makes that so different? Why should my life matter more than yours?”

Ravus took a deep, steadying breath. His anger had waned as hers had swelled; now he felt only sorrow. “Because you are my little sister, and I love you.”

“That’s not fair!” she protested.

“I know it isn’t. It isn’t fair that we’re here now. It isn’t fair that anyone should have to die. It isn’t fair -” He cut himself short before saying what he thought: it wasn’t fair that Mother and Father had died and left them to this. Sometimes he was angry at them for it, but Lunafreya didn’t have to know that. “Many things aren’t fair. We deal with them as we may.”

Her lower lip trembled. “I just – I wanted to support Noctis. We were going to send messages by Umbra and Pryna…”

Ravus felt a tugging on his trousers and looked down to see Umbra giving him the most soulful look a dog (or dog-shaped being) could manage. Beside him, Pryna snuggled up to Lunafreya, wrapped around her ankles. He might be new to this, but he could interpret that. “And so you shall.”

“But -”

“What do you say I keep Umbra with me, and you keep Pryna with you? That way I will have their advice, and you can still send your messages.”

“But they shouldn’t be separated…”

“They won’t be, any more than we will be separated. If you think you can bear my company for their sake.” He attempted a smile. It was weak, but so was Lunafreya’s answering one. It would do.

“I will have to, won’t I? For their sake.”

So that was settled.

All things considered, Ravus shouldn’t have been as surprised as he was when one day not long after he turned around to find Gentiana standing in his room as though she had always been there. She certainly had not come through the door.

“Greetings, young Oracle,” she said calmly.

Ravus gathered himself and pretended he hadn’t jumped half out of his skin. “Gentiana. You’re back.” He hadn’t seen her since before the attack, now that he thought of it. He wondered if Lunafreya had. “Where were you all this time?”

“There are worlds of preparations which must be made, in readiness for the appointed time.”

That wasn’t, Ravus observed privately, an answer. “Then what are you doing here now?”

She smiled, her eyes still shut. “There are many worlds, but one Oracle. The Frost-fingered wishes to know whether the Oracle-to-be has the will to complete what she – no, what he has begun.”

“Of course I have,” Ravus said. “Do you wish to test me?” It came out more sulkily than he meant it to. He could accept questioning of anything else, his power, his preparation, his fitness even, but not his will. He had decided to save the world in Lunafreya’s place, and he would do it, even if it meant losing everything. Better him than her.

Even if it meant the Glacian Herself thinking of him as a woman.

Gentiana only smiled. “There will be enough tests of will to come.” As if he didn’t know that.

“Then why are you here?” It was rude, but Ravus didn’t care. She hadn’t been here when they’d needed her. Could a Messenger have saved Mother?

“The last Oracle will have need of a handmaiden.”

“For what?”

“Many things.”

“Such as?” His patience, never prodigious, was beginning to wear thin.

“Are you prepared to wield the power of the Oracle? To purge mortal bodies of the taint without harming the flesh beneath?”

Ravus clenched his jaw. As little as he liked to admit it, it had been a long time since he had last practiced using those powers. He had never expected there to be a need. “…I must be,” he said at last.

Gentiana opened her eyes and looked at him for the first time. “I can help you learn, before the need is great. Else the power will consume you too quickly.”

He was reluctant to let go of his resentment, but it was true that his skill in healing was not what it should be. “That…would be appreciated,” he said. “Thank you.”

“I require no thanks, young Oracle. What I do is what must be done.”

He still wasn’t sure if he forgave Gentiana her absence, but he needed her. As much as he tried to pretend even to himself, he wasn’t ready to be the Oracle, not like Lunafreya was. She had more training. She had practice. He had only his will.

It would be enough. It had to be enough.

Three months passed in a haze of grief and worry. Ravus behaved himself, at least outwardly: he went to dress fittings, where tailors, themselves impeccably garbed, poked him with pins and muttered about his shoulders; attended without complaint the elocution lessons where a woman with pitying eyes trained him in how to modulate his voice to make it sound more “feminine”; sat through what seemed endless mock interviews where he was permitted to say only what the Empire deemed fitting; suffered himself to be instructed in posture, in conversation, in dancing, all as if he had never learned these things before. And when they were all done with him, he went back to his rooms, where Gentiana waited, and they worked and worked into the night, refining his control over the powers of the Oracle. It was exhausting, though perhaps that was what he needed: when at last he slept, no dreams came to disturb his rest.

At last, too slowly and yet all too soon, the day of his Ascension arrived. He was aware that he didn’t look right, despite Niflheim’s best efforts: they couldn’t do anything about his height, and his hair was just beginning to grow out, at that awkward stage where it was too short to do anything with but too long to stay out of his eyes. He was meanly glad of it. Appearances were what the Empire cared about. The people – his people – would, he hoped, be of a different mind.

Standing behind the podium, microphones and cameras trained on him from every angle, he took a deep, steadying breath, and then his artificial voice floated out over the crowd.

“People of Eos, I greet you. I am Rava Nox Fleuret, by birth and blood Oracle of the Hexatheon.

“Though I am still young, my blood is true. Like my mother before me, I will work to bring peace to one and all. …”