#A Thancred needs a hug

[toadeyes-miqote]

Il Mheg X12.4 Y22.0 dreamyplace shadybreeze shortstop

Wolcred Week 2024 Day 4 : Heal

[friendlyeorzean]

even the warrior of light needs a hug from his dads from time to time

[relamune]

pt 2 of my ffxiv oc's refs, this time my special boy Styx <3 hes my #1 catboy

as with the prev ref, Im still not confident with my ffxiv lore knowledge (ive been here for like 3 months) BUT this guy is a *bit* more developed than Savvel.

tl;dr he was born in the middle of nowhere, gridania before escaping his shitty home life, became one of the transients in Ul'dah for awhile, before accidentally stumbling himself into becoming an adventurer (started off bc of the money it brought in to support himself & his son & then as luck would have it, found himself involved in the MSQ)

I often WolCred post with him as they've quickly become a comfort ship of mine :3

[hallowed-nebulae]

Poor Alphinaud he's only a teenager he's gonna have. SO much trauma

[ooeygooeyghoul]

I'll never forgive ffxiv for not letting the WoL show affection to the twins. You spend the whole game with them watching them grow and hurt and change, and I REALLY feel like they deserve some hugs or at least something more than a couple dialog options and the stoic silent nod lol. Alphinaud canonically looks up to the WoL as an older sibling, and Alisaie repeatedly relies on them as a close companion and guardian. Those kids be starved as hell for any kind of positive role model to tell them they're doing great (which is even more true later on aha).

I was so disappointed when the reunion with them in Norvrandt was just them talking at you. Thancred gets to give Ryne headpats, why can't I have that for the twins!! Let me show them how proud of them I am I NEED them to understand that I care them so much-

[plounce]

WIP whenever!

thanks @anneapocalypse for the tag :~) your little snippet was extremely sweet and seasonal heheh

scraping through my memory and tagging @ostentenacity , @transgenderlestat , @faelithurgy , @nongunktional , @peepooworld , aaaaaaaand @lesbianmarrow . but only if you want to. AND @ecosystem-administrator i KNEW i was forgetting someone

i do have something that i'm finishing up that will be posted very soon, but this isn't that. it's an ancestor to jerkwol, but instead with generic meteor man being a more masc jerk than the mviera i eventually created for that line of thought. still bad news for thancred though. i wrote this in june 2023 and have not worked on it since. be free, abandoned wip!

(CWs for some drinking and a general sense of uneasiness and discomfort about a man. this was meant to be the start of a downhill slide to realizing your godkilling hero is actually a total douchebag)

It had started after Operation Archon. Perhaps not started - begun. It had begun then, even though he didn't know it yet.

There had been parties all over the place to celebrate the Garleans being driven from Eorzea, and the Waking Sands was no exception. The halls were bright and loud, ringing with drinking songs, excited conversation, and cheers for the man of the hour. Meteor had made his rounds through the crowd, handsome grin on his face as he received compliment after compliment. He shook hands, gave hugs, and was overall the very picture of a hero.

Thancred was doing his best to sketch a picture of who he usually was, but he knew he was failing. He just didn't have it in him. The joy pervading the room was only so infectious when one was recovering from being puppeted around by a villainous madman, and he had been nursing his first drink of the night - maybe the alcohol would soothe him and allow him to enjoy the festivities, but every time he went to down it, he remembered that night in that inn in east Thanalan, and he found himself nauseous.

For the majority of the evening, he'd stationed himself next to Urianger, the elezen's notoriously reclusive personality and unfashionable appearance enough to ward off most of those who sought to approach Thancred in an attempt to comfort him ("glad you're doing alright" he's not; "it's not your fault" it is). Urianger hated drinking with strangers, and could easily be prodded into rambling about any given book on the surrounding shelves. His low, steady voice was soothing, and trying to keep up with his vocabulary kept Thancred's mind occupied enough.

Minfilia was the center of the crowd, radiating warmth, light, and joy like the sun. He couldn't bear to speak with her. Not after he'd failed her yet again. She'd told him that she didn't blame him, that she was simply glad they'd managed to get him back, but her forgiveness (as ever) was too much for him to comprehend, much less accept.

The evening wore on. Urianger excused himself to take Louisoix's grandson to bed, and predictably took that as a way to escape the party himself. Thancred wished he could do the same, but his exhaustion was outweighed by the bone-deep need to keep Minfilia in sight when there was drink flowing in a packed room, and she didn't look like she was going to leave anytime soon.

"Quite a looker, isn't she?"

Thancred didn't jump (that had been trained out of him long ago), but he did tense. Meteor had somehow teleported from the other side of the room, holding two drinks.

At Thancred's silence, he added, "Minfilia, I mean." He nodded towards her.

Thancred swirled his own drink, watching the undoubtedly lukewarm liquid slosh in the mug. "Aye, she's grown up well." He'd dealt with this conversation before - other men who took his own philandering as permission to bawdily discuss Minfilia's looks with him. It ranged from uncomfortable to infuriating, and a few broken noses had come of it. He didn't know Meteor as well as some of the others did, and this had the potential to be a poor start to their working relationship, especially since Thancred already owed him an unpayable debt for saving him from Lahabrea.

Meteor looked at him consideringly for a long moment. Thancred shifted, suddenly uncomfortable. He lifted his drink to his mouth, and actually drained the mug. Old habits die hard.

As soon as he set the mug down on Urianger's worktable, he found another being crowded into his hand. "Er, sorry, but I–"

"I actually got this for you," Meteor said, nudging it into his palm until he gave up and took it. "You looked lonely over here, and having Urianger as company couldn't have made for the best party experience."

Thancred's eyes narrowed, but he made himself chuckle. "Well, when you've known him for as long as I have, you get used to him."

"If you say so," Meteor laughed, and took a swig of his drink. Thancred copied him. Maybe he would drink a little. Anything to make this conversation with his savior less awkward.

They continued to talk and drink – well, Meteor did most of the talking, sharing anecdotes from his journey up to this point, and chatting with people who stopped by to congratulate and thank him. Thancred mostly nodded and hummed, working on his drink. He'd planned to have that be his last one, but Meteor grabbed him another one, and it was decent ale tonight, and Thancred couldn't stand it when the others came by and joined them because he had nothing to add but his poor mood, so he drank to cover it up. It was fine. He knew his limits. He did. Maybe they weren't as good as he thought they were before all this, but he'd learned his lesson.

[cryoriku]

the scions respond to finding out you self-harm

Estinien

estinien would not hide his staring as he tries to figure out if the marks on your wrist were made intentionally or not.

The thought of the azure dragoon figuring out you self-harm would be enough to make anyone's limbs turn to gelatin, expecting him to be critical and not understanding. however, when he sees the marks on your wrist, it is quite the opposite.

He tells you you your scars are no reason for shame

After all, he cannot pretend as though his own scars - caused by his conflict with dragons - were not borne out of the selfsame desire for vindication, or penance. is that not a form of self-harm in and of itself?

estinien is not going to tell you to stop. he knows that decision will have to be your own. but he will remind you of a principle in dragoonhood he learned the hard way: vengeance and justice cannot coexist.

in the meantime, he will support you, as your comrade.

if you are partners - he will find your scars attractive. of course he doesn't WANT you to cut, but the indication of your struggle and survival despite it... he will be a sucker for it.

Thancred

Let's be honest: thancred's first instinct to seeing you self-harm would NOT be pretty. given what's happened to him, he will immediately assume you've been possessed by an ascian and restrain you

"i suppose you'd like to tell me what the hell you're doing? answer quickly."

when it becomes clear you are yourself, big brother mode kicks in. he immediately apologizes and softens.

it's not that he couldn't imagine you or anyone intentionally wanting to hurt themselves. he is no stranger to suicidal thoughts, nor the desire to bury yourself in your own suffering through addictive impulses. he's been around the block. if anyone gets how you feel, thancred does.

comforting someone of these feelings is not his strong suit, though. because he cares about you, he will try. it may feel a bit like tough-love, but you know he is trying to help you in the way he finds most effective.

he'll give you space to breathe, but he'll still be more consciously aware of you and your signs, and check in on you now and again.

he knows what it's like to hit a mental rock bottom. he doesn't want that to happen to you. he won't carry you, you have to work at it too, but he will be there at your side.

Alisaie

Alisaie would not at all be shocked. she knows the hardships you face and while she admires the strength you show through it all, she also understands why it would cause you to break like this.

she is also well familiar with how this sort of thing goes. maybe she has had a friend from the studium who self-harmed or once considered it herself.

she will let you vent to her about how you are feeling. she is a very good listener and an honest and thoughtful responder.

if would be the type to handle it well, Alisaie may lightheartedly threaten you to never do it again.

in either case, on a more serious note, she will remind you as she gives you a strong hug that she will always be here for you as you have been for her. you can lean on each other. she loves you very much.

Alphinaud

Alphinaud, however, is shocked. he never would have guessed - but he is still incredibly understanding.

he will ensure you he does not think any less of you for needing to do this.

like alisaie, he is familiar with this topic. if you are open to receiving it, he would off ideas for alternatives he has heard worked for others.

otherwise, he will make the both of you hot tea or hot cocoa and talk it out together. you were a team, and he would help you find a way to overcome this challenge, too.

with alphinaud, you will never be without someone to check your rationality and encourage you to push forward.

if you are comfortable with it, he will ask to see your wrist and offer his healing magicks on you.

G'raha

this guy would definitely get emotional about it. he can't help but wear his heart on his sleeve, and it hurts to know that you have been struggling so much.

he can relate to your feelings of feeling inferior, or helpless, or the need to take on suffering to spare others. so much.

it would hypocritical of him to ask you to stop, so he doesn't, though he does suggest that you two can be each other's accountability for mental health progress.

learning this side of you causes you both to connect with one another more deeply. the way g'raha sees it, it is a chance for a stone to be turned. both of you are only human, and you are messy, and that's okay. you can be messy together and help each other grow.

you are special to g'raha, and your scars, self-inflicted or not, are beautiful to him. now let's cheer up, okay?

Urianger

While Urianger will not exactly understand it, that does not at all mean he lacks in compassion

so long as you are comfortable with it, he would draw you close to him, giving you tender strokes on your hair, your back, maybe even the unmarred parts of your arm.

he would speak softly to you. you can be transparent about your emotions, or, if not, he will comfortably sit with you in silence as you calm down.

regardless, he will offer words of wisdom and encouragement entangled in a story he tells - perhaps of his own personal struggles or a tale he knows.

"remember, thou needst but have faith."

Krile

This is definitely unfamiliar territory for Krile, but she takes it in stride.

if you want to share, she will ask you questions about self-harm, why you do it, and how it helps so that she can understand it and figure out how to best be there for you.

regardless, she feels direct action is the best course. she offers to go on a walk with you, to get a bite to eat or simply enjoy the weather and companionship. maybe tataru will want your help in her latest hobby. or she and alphinaud could help you take up painting if that is more your style. anything to knock you out of your spiraling state and cheer you up in these moments

she would encourage you to quit, expressing privately that she is proud of you when she sees that you are clean, but understand that this sort of thing can be turbulent and takes time. but your little big sister won't stand to have you suffering alone.

whatever you need, she'll be there. she cares for you, even when she teases you, and wants to see you continuing to push on, even if you relapse. she wants to see you smile.

[tsunael]

wolcred week |  4. 'broken / trust.'

She was a veritable tour de force– an absolute nightmare of a woman. Yet, despite what the bards might sing, she was just as human as any other.

-> part I.

-> cw: suggestive themes.

And he couldn’t stop thinking about her.

“Wait– Gods– I’ll be sick.”

Overindulging in drink and dancing on bloody feet had left a typhoon of a woman clinging to the bark of a pixie apple tree for a semblance of stability.

He halted his stride with a huff and readjusted his grip on their youngest charge to wait with waning patience. He had half-expected to carry one of them home, but not certainly not Ryne, though he heard Alphinaud and Alisaie had met with similar fates. Y’shtola had done him a service and seen to their care, as well as Urianger's-- and must be thankful, for that was one man he did not want to carry across the Crystarium grounds.

That only left their most important cargo to him– how lucky he was-- and if Tsuna did not get ahold of herself, he feared he would soon find himself out of hands. 

He looked on past the treetops, to the early morning sky peeking through the crystal dome to find a moment to wax poetic. “Destroyer of Primals, Lightwarden’s Bane... but a flagon of ale has not ceased to bring the Warrior of Darkness to her knees, I see.”

Tsuna shot a pointed look in his direction. “P-Piss off,” she droned, half-way between a hiss and a whine. "You're making it worse."

All he could do was offer his own exhausted smirk at her expense. 

It was true. Tsuna Wasaishi could fell all manner of beasts with enough willpower and sheer dumb luck, but the stairs to her chambers seemed her most daunting adversary yet.

Ryne had been put to bed, which freed his attention to better escort the stumbling woman into his chambers on the first floor to circumvent the climb.

She fell upon his mattress in a heap, looking at once grateful for sturdy ground.

“Off,” she mumbled. Her knuckles tapped the hard cage of her corset and drew his exhausted sigh. “Please,” she added, weakly. Even at her wits end she still found it pertinent to be cordial, and he had no choice but to oblige.

Tsuna slumped forward for him, pulling her hair loose and tossing it over her clammy shoulder to better offer her laces. The cotton of the cincher was damp to the touch, her skin still shone with sweat. He thumbed the laces, pulling them free from the centre-outward, and as he broke her free from the busk, and immediately she began to breathe easier.

He had to wonder why one woman would put herself through so much for such pain just to numb another.

She offered him a shy look from over her bare shoulder, muttering something so incoherent he could only barely piece it together. “... stay with me?” she asked.

He was struck by the blunt force three words could bring. It was not as if they hadn’t shared a night in the past. Even so, he stood from the bed, only to prostrate himself before her, if only to make her more comfotable.

“I would not leave you in such a sorry state.” It was the truth, though he chuffed to hide from his own trepidation. “It’s all right. You needed this.”

Tsuna closed her eyes agreeably, and nodded, softly humming in perceived content as he fished for her ankle under her dress’ hem. 

“You’re my dearest friend, Thancred. Y'know that, yes?”

His hands paused. He knew. Gods, he knew. They mapped each other's hurts like no one else ever would.

How many times had he found himself wanting to sit outside her door for that very reason?

Slowly, she picked up her skirts before him, and rose them high to aid in his task. Completely unabashed, she revealed to him the shapely, naked length of her legs for a show. His eyes were drawn down to the map of scales hugging her sides, then up– up to the lazy, amused smile curling her lips. She looked down on him, a supplicant, and a familiar heat rushed through him.

“I could tell you anything,” she whispered, softer. “Couldn’t I?”

He bit his cheek, tilting his chin down, trying to focus on the matter at hand. 

“Of course.”

Thancred’s hands smoothed up her firm calves and carefully removed the battered heel from her right foot. Her soles were angry and blistered from her hours of revelry, and so with the same care he removed the left, though it was there that he lingered. The thumb on her calve began to move in easy circles to loosen the band of muscle grown taut with pain and overuse. Tsuna drew in a sharp breath and squirmed in his hands, and the hem rose higher still.

He crept up past her knee, and settled on her lower thigh before he stopped himself. 

He had broken her trust before, and he would not do so again– even if she were more than willing. 

“Keep going.”

Her hand clasped over his own, and drew it upwards, his thumb reaching beneath her skirts, to dip into the crease of her thigh for a tantalizing moment. He knew what she wanted, and he would visit all seven of the Hells if he admitted he wished the same. The Gods only knew how long he had been bereft. 

It took all he had to retract his hand, despite her protests. “I won’t,” he muttered firmly under his breath. “Not like this.”

“Why?" Tsuna sat upright, lips twisted in hurt. "Gods– Warm me.” He looked away, rueful, only managing to raise her frustration. “You said so: I need this–” Her voice fell soft, desperate. Her hands clasped his face, stroking lines across his cheeks in order to pull him in. 

She was looking for another way to drown, and he would not have a part in it.

“It wouldn’t be the first–”

“All the more reason not to make the same mistake twice,” he interrupted, pulling her hands from him. “Another time. Another place.” And he would.

A kiss was pressed to her palm, and she was struck silent.

He used the opportunity to stand, to begin the ritual of shucking his coat to prepare for his own rest, when without so much as a sound, she reached for his now-naked hand, and despite it all– despite everything– his thumb ran careful circles over her knuckle.

She needed something more than just a warm body beside her, and it was something he could not provide.

[amaurotine-daydreaming]

To Grieve in His Own Way (Prompt 4 - Reticent)

(Dawntrail MSQ spoilers from ~lvl 97 on.)

---

Someone needed to tell Iyaate about…her. 

About Cahciua.

About his mother.

It should be a simple task, made even simpler by his preference for brevity. All he needed was a little more time to marshal his mind and his heart. To figure out what to say.

My mother, Cahciua…she is dead.

If their fortunes were reversed - if it was Cahciua mourning Iyaate - she would doubtless throw a celebration of life. There would be music and feasting, shared stories and archery contests, and little time for tears or sorrow. At times he could scarce believe Cahciua was Shetona, let alone his mother.

Erenville closed his eyes, smoothing out the hitch in his breath. He exhaled, and the walls of his quarters no longer felt so suffocatingly close.

Cahciua is gone.

Iyaate would react more appropriately, with sorrow.

Erenville dreaded that, too.

Only the Warrior knew of his unfinished business, and she left him well enough alone save for the occasional searching glance from the corner of her eye.

For a time.

Finally, like a huntress coming across mortally wounded prey caught in a hunter’s trap, she took pity on him. In a moment where she brushed past him, she murmured that she would bear the news to Iyaate on his behalf, if he so wished.

“Absolutely not,” he said.

The resentment he felt came and went as quick as a flash of levin. Erenville knew he should apologize. But she had been traveling with him long enough to know better; should know that he could never accept such a thing.

Even for a Viera woman, the Warrior was remarkably implacable. She regarded him in her careful, expressionless way, then nodded. Accepting. No need to explain further. And for that, Erenville was grateful.

No, he did not look forward to telling Iyaate. Yes, each footstep toward Tuliyollal’s gate felt leaden even without his pack on his shoulders.

But on his pride–

–as Cahciua’s son–

–out of respect for Iyaate– 

–these tidings were his to bring.

---

And yet Erenville considered, as he handed the reins of the rented rroneek over to the stablehand, simply walking straight back out of Sheshenewezi Springs and into the wilds. Walk, and ignore that pustule of a dome over Yyasulani until he found a place suitably remote so that he could–he didn’t know. Stand there? Dig his nails into his palms until this seething knot around his heart finally loosened?

What he knew with certainty was that he wanted to be alone. He missed those long stretches of wandering with the road as his only companion. He had grown accustomed to all of the many people who orbited around The Warrior and around Wuk Lamat, but none of them truly knew what he needed or understood how to give it. 

Each had tried, in their own way: a kind word from Krile, an offer of drinks from Thancred, a B’raax-sized hug from Wuk Lamat that briefly took him off his feet. But none of them were culturally Shetona, and all seemed to prefer company in their times of sorrow. He��d had no time to grieve by himself, in his way. 

But ill-equipped as he was beyond basic survival skills, Erenville had to acknowledge that anywhere that was far enough away from people would be too dangerous for him to tread. 

Gods, this headache he had was terrible.

It was unsettling, walking into one of his mother’s old stomping grounds, and nobody knew she was gone. Surely many across Shaaloani knew her, and those who met her seldom forgot her; his mother blazed a bright path wherever she went, with her adventurous spirit and too-loud voice and embarrassingly emotive ways and…

It was like she never existed, just as it was in Yyasulani. Even Iyaate was haunting her usual spot on the porch outside her house.

“Elene’shpya! How are you? How is Cahciua?”

Erenville closed his eyes against his old name. He didn’t have the energy to correct her. Not right now. 

“Iyaate.” 

A pause, a breath. The knot tightened. Make it quick. She was used to his brusqueness. “I have news.”

Iyaate’s lips parted and her brows knitted. “Yes?”

Something in the way he spoke betrayed him; the look dawning in Iyaate’s eyes was proof. Reflexively, Erenville crossed his arms and looked away. So why did he have to say anything else? He wished she would spare him from having to say it. 

She did not.

“I…did see her,” Erenville finally managed. The words felt thick, and his throat felt dry. He swallowed. “But she is…” 

None of the words he had rehearsed felt right. Dead. Gone. No longer with us. Threw her life away–

He didn’t even know how she died. 

Erenville still couldn’t meet Iyaate’s eyes. 

“...dead, Iyaate. She is dead.”

He stood there as stiffly as if he himself were a corse; he couldn’t help it. He wished he had something to look at, but his view was blocked on either side by the dull, weather-worn timber sides of the houses around them.

“Oh, Elene’shpya…” 

Iyaate took a step forward, arms beginning to open, but Erenville cleared his throat and she caught herself. There was, however, nothing he could do about the sorrow that now creased her face.

“Do you know how she…?” Iyaate began.

Erenville’s fingers dug into his arms. 

“Well,” she amended, “it doesn’t matter. I know she would have gone out her own way, on her own terms.”

You don’t know that, Erenville didn’t say. He didn’t say anything at all, and it made for an awful silence. 

He had delivered the news, done his duty. He wished he could turn around and walk away, but Iyaate deserved better. He waited for her to say something that he could reasonably infer as a dismissal.

Instead, Iyaate stared at him, hard. “Wait here for a moment.” She turned on her heel and went into the house.

He could slip away while she was gone. He was tempted–

But she was already back, bow strung and quiver readied.

“Let’s go,” she said, stepping down from the porch. “I want to take a walk, and I want you to come with me.”

Erenville opened his mouth.

“Yes, there is a reason, Elene’shpya. Now follow me.”

Erenville gripped his elbows and stayed put. “Iyaate, this is a courtesy call. I cannot stay.”

“Then do me the courtesy of following me. It won’t take long.”

Small wonder she and his mother had gotten along.

---

He and Iyaate walked out into the plains, far into the brush. In silence. They stayed well afield of the wavering blue shapes of cerulean bombs and anala, and the nopalitenders took no interest in them.

Erenville stared at Iyaate’s back as she strode a few steps ahead of him. At first he thought she planned to make her way to the cemetery - although it was largely a Tonawawtan burial ground, not Shetona - but on the outskirts of the Springs she had instead turned southwest, towards the plateaus. 

These plateaus rose before them now, their reddish, jutting stones marking the boundary between Shaaloani and Yyasulani. When he and Iyaate walked into their shadow, he understood.

Ancient slot canyons made slits through this boundary, with some entrances so well hidden - by the angle of the rock or the narrowness of the water source that long ago carved them - that Erenville only knew they had reached one by the remains of votive candles and dried flowers that marked one was nearby.

Iyaate stood at its entrance and whistled into it. She waited, then looked back at Erenville, tilted her head toward the passage, and slipped inside.

The slot canyon was barely broader than Erenville’s shoulders; if he had carried his gleaner’s pack, he would’ve had little choice but to leave it at the entrance. The curved sandstone brushed against both his and Iyaate’s clothes as they shuffled their way through. He swallowed down the feeling that the walls were hugging him tighter, pressing down and in–

The passage opened. Light filtered down into a small chamber. There were more wax stumps of candles here.

Iyaate put her hands on hips, surveying. Then she pointed to a small boulder with a flat-ish top.

“Sit here.”

Erenville sighed.

“I have done as you asked, Iyaate,” he said. “Are you going to explain this to me?”

She looked at him. Her arm remained outstretched.

Feeling a bit like a child told to go to the corner, he plopped himself down where she had indicated, irked.

“I’m going to walk the perimeter,” Iyaate said. “And you–are going to do whatever it is you need to do to grieve.”

Erenville sat up straighter, aghast. “What?” 

“Scream. Cry. I don’t care. But put your burdens down for a moment Elene’shpya, please.”

Erenville stretched his thumb and index to his temples and pressed down. His headache was worsening, he was sure of it. “You brought me all the way out here for…?”

Iyaate traced a sigil into the dirt in front of her. A bubble appeared at its center which spread - Erenville’s skin prickled - until it enveloped the chamber. Its glassy outline was visible in snatches.

“A spell of silence,” Iyaate said. “Only these walls will bear witness. I will guard the entrance until you are ready.”

She slipped away.

Erenville sat there, still dumbfounded. She was serious.

…He had no experience with silencing spells. Would such a spell simply swallow up his words, like a scream trapped in his throat? Would it even work?

“Iyaate!” he said, raising his voice. “Can you hear me?”

The sound rippled against the barrier. There was no response. 

He drew his knees to his chest and rested his chin on them. This…wasn’t how he did things. He wasn’t his mother; he disliked emotional outbursts. Iyaate knew that. 

And yet…he felt a sound crawling up his throat, trying to get out. A sob, a scream? He choked it down, or tried. A high, lonesome sound whistled out.

Erenville buried his head against his knees to muffle the sound, mortified. He swallowed again, and it hurt. The pressure in his head was now pushing against his eyes.

And in this dry, arid place, where water had not traveled through in centuries, but had left its scars on the rock that now carved out this sanctuary–

Erenville finally wept.

[autumnslance]

Year of the OTP - July 2023 - Stars

(More Shadowbringers timeline, have some yearning during a key early moment. Original prompt list Here. 2 sections, 2 screenshots, 850ish words nearly evenly split between 2 POVs.)

Thancred cooked over a small fire as Minfilia imbued his ammunition. There was a sudden pressure in his ears, on his shoulders. The sky rippled…

…and broke.

The oppressive Light evaporated like clouds of steam, plunging the world into darkness. Minfilia shrieked, the cartridges tumbling from her hands. “Thancred?!”

He couldn’t answer immediately, staring up, the stinging wetness in his eyes not from the campfire smoke.

The moon shone down, a gleaming disk of silver. Stars scattered across the velvety darkness, blinking and winking like old friends. And they were, he realized, recognizing constellations memorized to help comrades with their Astrology studies once upon a time.

“Thancred, is this…night?”

He swallowed past the lump in his throat. “Yes,” he managed hoarsely. “The night sky, the moon and stars.”

She hugged herself. “Then this means…”

“She’s here,” Thancred whispered. His heart tried to beat through his chestplate, his pulse in his ears, echoing: she’s here, she’s here, she’s here, she’s here!

“We have to find her,” Minfilia said, crystal-blue gaze turning from the sky to the shadowed woodline.

“We will,” Thancred replied. “But first we need to pick up those cartridges and eat.”

His mind spun while his heart continued to do backflips behind his sternum. Five years of dreaming, of longing, and Aeryn was here. Had much time passed for her as well? Or was it as the Exarch’s mirror showed, and she was the same as she had been their last night together in Ala Mhigo?

Aeryn’s hair falling in midnight waves down her back, her eyes shining silver in amusement at his jokes and teasing, the lilt of her accent followed by her laughter, the scent of the white violas she wore in her hair, the soft touch of her skin against his, the heat between them keeping the chill of the highland night at bay…

Thancred let out a sigh, hardly noticing his meal, vaguely aware of Minfilia watching him.

Five years in this harsh realm had changed him; would it be too much? Would Aeryn still recognize him? Still want him?

He ought to be sure of the answer; he knew her well enough. But that ever-present voice in the back of his head whispered warnings as always. One would think he’d be able to ignore his self-doubt by now.

“Let’s clean up and break camp,” he said, dousing the fire. Minfilia whined at the loss of light. “Your eyes will adjust; it’s a lovely night, for the first this world’s seen in far too long.”

Thancred paused to look at the sky again. She’s here.

—

Aeryn looked up at the sky again, the familiar moon and constellations looking back, comforting after their absence.

She had only been in the First for a little over a fortnight, the lack of change each day disorienting and the constant press of Light wearisome. How much stranger it must be for the people of the First, who had never seen the night, never known the natural rhythmic shifts in time and weather and the beauty of the true sky!

Alphinaud also kept pausing to look up and smile, his relief and happiness palpable. So many other people as they walked by were staring up, talking to one another in excitement, unable to tear their eyes from the starscape above. There were many tears, prayers and songs of thanks even before they entered the city proper.

As they passed through the checkpoint, the Exarch quietly spoke to a guard. “Any word from Thancred?”

Are you seeing the stars too?

Was Thancred nearby? Had he seen the Light split away and wonder why, or did he know what this meant? Was he even in Lakeland, or in another part of the realm where Light still billowed and swirled above? Did he yet care, or had the years he had spent here—years!—dull his affections? What of this companion the Exarch had mentioned?

“Not yet, my lord.”

The moonlight had streamed in through the window of her room in Ala Mhigo, the stars twinkling, their light making Thancred’s fair hair practically glow as they had lounged in the bed, talking and joking, laughing and teasing. His hands had been warm on her skin as they cunningly explored her, his voice low and sending shivers down her spine. His mismatched eyes had glimmered in amusement, the line of his mouth crooking into a smile before leaning in to kiss her again, drawing her close to his warmth against the night’s chill.

The next day his body lay frighteningly still and silent, everything that made him Thancred…gone.

She could count the time in mere sennights and moons. But he had been here without the moon and stars, without her, for five entire years.

Do you know that I’m here? Do you still care? Do you see the stars?

“Aeryn,” Alphinaud called, pausing with the Exarch at the head of the bridge leading into the Crystarium.

She turned her face from the sky to smile at her companions as she rejoined them.

I’m here, her heart silently called. And I brought you the stars. Do you see them? Do you see me?

[without-school-or-style]

7 - Morsel

Word Count: 709

((No card today. By the time I remembered to draw one, I already had an idea. Some small Dawntrail spoilers for the first dungeon. Lavender Helltear belongs to my wonderful girlfriend, @abeat.))

Thanks to at least two setbacks, the trek through Ihuykatumu took longer than Joey anticipated—first by Bakool Ja Ja, then Thancred. And as the party continued their trek through the dungeon, the dark knight suddenly vanished into thin air.

“He shall be back in a moment’s time,” said the party’s astrologian.

A few seconds of silence later, Joey heard his stomach grumble. “We could clear some of the pathway while waiting for him to come back—”

The astrologian said nothing in response. Instead, she perched upon a rock with a ray of sunshine now beaming down on her. Placing her small satchel by her feet, she procured a spot of tea and some coffee biscuits to be nibbled by her lonesome. Her gaze stared everywhere but at the rest of the party—only the path ahead and the stars that guided her instincts. At least, so Joey and his rapidly increasing hunger believed.

‘Not a bad idea, though.’ Joey thought and took a seat himself.

The blond viera rummaged in his bag for something to snack on. He usually carried at least a quarter of a satchel full of consumable goods—purple carrot juice, sykon bavarois, some cinnamon-spiced chai, or even loaves of knight’s bread. At this point, who knew how long the dark knight would take to show himself again? Some lentil curry sounded filling right about now.

Except when Joey rummaged through the bag, all he found were some materia, pieces of random ores, and a variety of stock potions to cure ailments… every ailment except hunger.

‘Of course. I was cleaning out my bags before the call to duty happened.’ Joey thought. ‘Stupid me. Leave it to me to go unprepared. I should’ve just thrown everything back in the bag, but no. Oh well. Nothing else I can do except wait things out.’

He hugged his legs in a fetal position. When was the last time he ate? Or did fighting physically with little to no magic take that much toll on one’s physical well being? How did people like Teremy manage? Obviously with food, which he didn’t have. Joey’s curiosity to try fighting with only his dual swords and a handful of his magic became a fool’s endeavour at this rate. The rest of the body had caught up to his mental state and he started feeling light-headed, as he did when hunger struck. His body trembled slightly as though searching for nutrients it didn’t have. He selfishly thought to ask the astrologian to share some of her blessings, but she seemed off in her own little world, and Joey felt too guilty to ask.

“Here, Sous-Chef. It’s not much but take some of this,” said the voice of Lavender Helltear, the party’s dancer and Joey’s long-time travel companion.

Joey looked up to see the gorgeous viera woman holding out a hard-boiled egg and a slice of a knight’s bread loaf all wrapped underneath with a napkin. “Are you sure, Chef…?” he asked, using his nickname for her.

“Yes, I’m sure. I brought plenty of snacks to eat,” said Lavender. Leave it to the Mom of the group to come prepared like this. She was always like that. “I know you—you’ll be all I don’t want to burden anyone, but you’re really hungry. Besides, you look like you’re getting faint. So eat up.”

Joey chuckled as weakly as he felt. “Sorry, you’ve been hanging around me that long.”

“Well, I notice these things too, you know,” said Lavender. “And the point is, you need to eat. Who knows what other dangers lie out there, and hunger will just make you prey instead of the predator.”

Joey was too hungry to argue. “Thank you, Chef,” he said and gratefully took the food in both hands.

He slowly nibbled through the food. In minutes, Joey felt energy returning to his body. He felt like he could stand up and fight again. He smiled again at Lavender, this time a little more brightly.

“I owe you one.”

Lavender put her hands on her hips. “Nonsense. This is what friends are for, aren’t they?”

Joey nodded slightly. With a wonderful Mom friend like Lavender, he felt lucky to be alive.

[toadeyes-miqote]

Stars in the night sky - Phase 2A of 5 WolCred week 2024 Day 3 : Light / Darkness

Somewhere Wright X 16 7, Y 29 6 "Are you alright?"

[battlecrazed-axe-mage]

How do you think your WOL feels about the other Scions?

Under a readmore because it got kind of long!

Thancred: I had an Ul'dah start, so he was her first connection with the Scions! Very proud of how he's grown as a person in the time she's known him. Teases him mercilessly in the most affectionate of ways. Probably hooked up with him at some point early on; they don't talk about it these days, but mostly because that's not where their relationship landed

Y'shtola: Absolute greatest respect and a little bit of fear. She trusts Y'shtola's words and plans pretty much more than almost anyone else she knows--UNLESS Flow is involved. Please stop solving problems with Flow we're running out of ways to pull you back out. Fully supports all of her high level mage nonsense and wants to help with her dimension-crossing thing any way she can.

Urianger: At this point, if Urianger starts doing something that superficially looks like plotting against the group, she takes it on faith that he knows what he's doing and has a good reason. When he eventually confesses his duplicity and cries for forgiveness, she wraps him in the tightest hug and goes "it's fine, look, don't worry about it. I know you." Will listen to him endlessly even if she only grasps a fraction of what he's talking about

Alphinaud: Baby brother. Incandescently proud of him and the capable young man he's become in the time she's known him. When he called her his family in Eulmore she got a little misty-eyed; considers him and Alisaie basically actual family. The only person whose plans she trusts above Y'shtola's. He's going to be a great leader someday, and she hopes she can be helpful when that day comes.

Alisaie: Baby sister. If Alphinaud is the twin she loves but doesn't understand, Alisaie is the one she understands in every mote of her being; Alisaie is basically her but younger. Do NOT leave the two of them alone to carry out some part of a plan, they enable each other's most reckless and ill-advised impulses and will yes-and each other until only fire lives here now. (Probably my favorite of the scions)

G'raha: Her spouse's boyfriend. Not her type as a lover; something closer than a friend; ranks just below the twins on the list of "people I would kill and/or die for". Raha is an absolutely essential pillar of her life at this point so please stop trying to martyr yourself godsdammit. If ever she has a dilemma she can't see a way out of, or if she wants a second opinion of something, he's her first thought

Estinien: Understands him as a brother-in-arms and lets him dictate the terms of their friendship (so they're not super close, but warm enough when their paths cross). Keeps tabs on him for Aymeric's peace of mind as best she can. There's few people she trusts more to have her back in a fight. Makes a point to treat him to a meal anytime they see each other because she still fully does not trust him with money and wants to be sure he's eating

Krile: Worked closely with her for an extended period of time on the displaced Isle of Val and got to know her in that time. Krile is probably the scion that knows the most of her secret fears and uncertainties; my character feels it's only fair after Krile trusted her with her own survivor's guilt over being the only one to escape the isle. Despite Krile being younger than her, considers her a bit of a "responsible adult" and can be reined in by her

Tataru: Bestie!! Eternally indebted to her as the beating heart of the Scions. Would move mountains for her. Probably relies on her quite a bit as someone who's also started selling her crafts (mostly soup lately) and sells out of her storefronts. Every aimless adventurer needs a pragmatic tether to the real world, and Tataru is hers. They get together every so often to gossip and catch up, when my character makes it back to town

[otherworldseekers]

FFXIVwrite2024: Surrogate

A rare bit of non-WoLNero writing! Featuring Severia in early ARR.

686 words.

“Severia! I feel like I haven’t seen you in an age!” Tataru exclaimed as the adventurer stepped through the doors fo the Waking Sands. “What have you been up to?”

“Ah,” Severia said somewhat sheepishly. “I’ve been keeping busy. Here and there.” To be quite honest, she’d needed a break after all the business with Ifrit and so she’d gone back to Gridania for a time and ended up joining the Botanist’s Guild. The next month she had spent wandering to various corners of the Shroud looking for medicinal plants and herbs. It had been just what she needed. But now she felt ready to face the work of the Scions again. 

“Well, I was just about to pour myself some tea so why don’t you join me for a cuppa and we can catch up on the news,” Tataru said brightly. By news, of course, she meant gossip. 

They settled in around Tataru’s table and the Lalafell secretary regaled Severia with a series of amusing workplace anecdotes. But eventually Tataru realized that Severia was barely participating in the conversation. She decided to try to draw the taciturn adventurer out. 

“So… you’ve been with us a little while now. What do you think?”

“Think?” Severia parroted mindlessly. 

“About our organization. About the members.”

“Oh,” Severia stopped to think. “After fighting Ifrit, I can see why the Scions are needed. All those poor people.” She shuddered. And she still couldn’t get the monster’s words out of her mind. 

Tataru nodded sympathetically. “It was a truly horrifying incident. The extent of the conspiracy… I’m not sure we’ve seen anything like it before. It may be there are hard days in store for the Scions. And we will need you.” Tararu placed a small hand on Severia’s arm and smiled encouragingly. 

The shocking revelations that had come in the wake of her defeat of the Primal had seemed to come one after another without cease. The fact that it was her so-called Echo that made her immune. Her Echo, the reason she had been recruited in the first place. Her Echo, making her fit to fight Primals. The road of her future as the Slayer of Primals had stretched out before her and she wasn’t sure that it was what she wanted. One thing had brought her back.

After she had made her report to Minfilia, when she and Thancred had turned to leave, Minfilia had stopped her for a moment. She had placed her hands on Severia’s shoulders and there had been tears in her eyes. “Thank the Mother,” Minfilia had said as she pulled Severia into a hug. “That you returned unscathed. I was so afraid.” Minfilia had held her for several seconds before letting Severia go and wiping the tears from her eyes with a self deprecating smile. 

When Severia told Tataru about it, Tataru nodded knowingly. “She had to put on a brave face in front of Thancred. He takes things too much to heart, that man. Blames himself at the slightest chance. Behind his back however, she could show you how she really felt.”

Perhaps more than anything that hug had taken Severia by surprise. Had anyone ever hugged her that way? Had there been a time when her mother, who she only remembered as a cold back, ever cared for her that much? 

Tataru continued without noticing Severia’s furrowed brows. “Minfilia really does view us all as family. She lost her own, you know. Most of us, in fact, either lost or left behind our families to do this work. Minfilia is like a surrogate mother for us all. She holds us together, keeps us doing good work. Course I help too. All of us do our part. We’re all truly happy to have you with us, you know. And not just for your talents.”

She looked up sharply. Tataru was too shrewd sometimes. Severia drank the last of her tea and stood up. “I’d best report to Minfilia.”

“Yes, go on. She’ll be thrilled to see you.” 

And as Severia looked at Tataru’s confidently smiling face, she realized that she believed it.

[yasuosexual]

a bit of a self indulgent post as i make my way through FFXIV. i can’t keep my eyes off of thancred 😩

spicy below the cut!

thancred is the type of guy who doesn’t want to wait too long for you to return from your mission. he yearns for your return, finding himself in the bathroom palming his throbbing cock, wishing it were you instead.

he sits there, back against the wall, slowly stroking at his member, smearing the creamy precum across the tip. loud moans escape his lips as he imagines you slowly sliding down onto his cock, your fingers gripping sharply into his shoulders. the way you would bite your lip and whine as he bottoms out inside… he needed you, now.

thancred stroked his dick faster and harder, trying his best to emulate the feeling of you bouncing on him. he imagined your plush tits bouncing right in his face as you tried to satisfy yourself on his length. his hand gripped tighter around the base as he profusely rubbed his cock— moaning your name, not having a single fuck about who heard.

when you finally returned, he was beyond desperate. thancred tackled you in a hug, just like any other time you returned home from a mission. this hug wasn’t anything like the previous ones, though. his eyes were full of lust and desire— a fire burned below— one that only you could put out.

thancred savored every second he had you on top of him. all of the lonely days he spent palming himself to you in the bathroom were for naught— you were here and on top of him now. the way your fingertips clawed his shoulder blades, your tits bouncing right in his face, how you bobbed up and down relentlessly to try and relieve yourself, and those moans… the way you moaned his name sent him in a spiral.

it was almost as if he was seeing stars. the fire within the pit of his stomach was at its fullest, and he was close to extinguishing it. with one hand he pulled your face into his and kissed you and the other guiding your hips to keep bouncing on his cock. “Gonna, cum…” he’d whimper into your wet lips as he struggled to continue the kiss.

thancred kissed your forehead as he tucked you into bed. after your long mission, you deserved a rough fuck with lots of care after. he needed you to know just how much you mean to him.

“i love you, so much. don’t leave me for so long next time.”

-celly

[hythlodaeus-mynewoldfriend]

Day 16: Third-rate no warnings. word count 576. Ao3

“Mr. Waters!” 

Thancred pauses, taking a deep breath, saying a prayer as he recognizes Lady Akagane’s voice, the clicking of her heels, and the jingle of her clothing as she glides towards him through the Old Sharlayan market. He turns plastering on his best smile that can endure her judgment. “Lady Akagane, what a pleasure to see you as always.”

“Please stop lying Mr. Waters, we both know it isn’t.” She stops, pulling out a dagger, his to be exact, from her purse handing it over, “I came to return this to you. I thank you for letting me use it during the attack on Radz-at-Han.”

He gives a slight push back to her, “Keep it. We still don’t know what may happen in the coming days. You should have something other than a bed post to protect yourself.”

“Oh, no, Mr. Waters, it’s uncouth for a Lady to carry around weaponry. It was a necessity in the moment, but no more.” She places it in his hand, Thancred noticing the recent shine and sharpening of the blade, “Besides, it appears my daughter wants to continue with saving the world and she will need protection.”

“If I may, she is more than capable-.”

The older auri woman holds up a hand, “I will hear none of that. She is my daughter and I want her safe. You forget I was witness to the fighting prowess of Archons Rhul and Augurelt, Exarch G’raha Tia, Ser Varlineau, Lord and Lady Leveilleur, Mr. Reyes and you, and I must say it was enlightening to say the least.”

He refrains from rolling his eyes at his name placement, “Why thank you, Lady Akagane. I will be sure to pass that along.”

She gives a curt nod, smoothing out her skirt, “See to it that you do.” He begins to turn away, “One more thing, Mr. Waters.”

“Yes….”

“I will never understand what it is my Siberite sees in you a third-rate womanizing nobody, especially when she has connections with much better suitors. That being said, after seeing first hand fractions of the traits she claims you have, I must acknowledge that you are not a third-rate womanizing nobody.” He bites down on any notions of thanks waiting to see where she was going with her statement. “I find that you are a second-rate womanizing nobody, Mr. Waters. Now if you excuse me.” She glides past him towards the living quarters of Old Sharlayan, nose in the air, leaving no room for thanks that he hopes won’t be used against him in the future. 

He turns to make his way back towards his room in the annex, smiling when he spies Siberite walking out from behind the aetheryte. “Well, it looks as if she’s starting to like you.” He cocks a brow, crossing his arms, Sib rolling her eyes, “Okay tolerating you.” She takes hold of his hand and pulls him closer for a hug, “But that’s a really good thing for her. It means there’s hope that she one day will actually like you.”

“And just how long are we talking about until said day?”

“Hmmm, maybe on her deathbed,” she teases, “but it may be limited to her using your highest title with your last name.”

“That would be some high praise indeed.”

The two laugh a moment, before she glances at the crowds behind him. “In the meantime let’s make ourselves scarce before she finds out I’m here.”