#FFXIV FIC

[noctiilio]

Pasts rewritten Ryne!

I have this AU i'm working on in my free time where SHB happens earlier in the timeline, and while it's not noticeable on the source, it's enough of a time difference to affect the first. Hence: Ryne is just a baby!

It's fully readable over here! I'm going through all of shb and patch msq through the lenses of this time divergence!

more about her under the cut!

10 months old

Babbling composed of “Aeuu!”, “Abababa!”, “Baaauauaeu!”, "Awaeu!" and other similar sounds.

Polite child, rarely complains unless there is true danger lurking about (sin eaters being one such exception)

Little Ryne can crawl around on all fours, the telltale tiptaptiptap of her hands on the floor is a good indicator of her whereabouts.

She tends to keep her hands close to her mouth, if not into it directly, to seek for comfort at all times after what she’s already been through.

Feo Ul calls her “little blessing”, which played a major part in Thancred’s name pick for the little one.

Says her first word after nabaath areng, knows a total of 2 words in the whole story: “dada” for thancred, “iaia”for gaia.

[nidstiniens]

The Congregation of Knights Most Unholy ... is now open for new members!

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Why should I join?

Have you ever felt anxious about the themes in your fic? Did you ever stop yourself from sharing art because you're worried about backlash? Have you ever wanted feedback on your work, but were nervous no one would want to beta your monsterfucking story? We hope to eliminate those fears for good.

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At the end of the day, we're a group of FFXIV nerds who want to hang out with other nerds who share similar interests! If this community sounds like something you want to be a part of, please join us. We'd love to have you!

↠ Discord Link: HERE

(please signal boost!)

[stars-and-clouds]

All of Coerthas Map (pre-calamity)

I was using this as a reference in my fanfic for Estinien’s backstory and thought it might help others too!

The picture is from this blog page. It is not mine. The blog also has some 1.0 information that might be useful for some writers.

Edit:

Map is originally by: @chrysalisthoughts

[mothwingwritings]

My mind has been assaulted with thoughts of a chief overseer era Hermes who has taken a a very strong fancy to you and is now about to make that your problem. :)

WARNINGS: Manipulative and obsessive behavior, coercion, abuse of power dynamics, yandere themes, Endwalker spoilers.

Hermes wasn’t above using your love of Meteion against you.

While your relationship with his familiar had grown increasingly strong over the past several months (making the two of you nigh inseparable), your relationship with him was doing nothing but steadily sour. Hermes used to be so close to you, sharing everything from ideas, to meals, to eventually living space. But recently you avoided him as if your life depended on it, coming up with excuse after excuse to escape his presence the instant he took a step in your direction.

It was maddening.

Where had it all gone wrong? As of late, every creation he crafted was in your honor, your existence igniting his creativity like nothing else had before. You were his muse, his confidante, his treasured friend. Slowly yet surely, you were becoming his everything- the reason he was able to pull himself out of bed each morning and push through another day, even in moments when it felt like no one on the star particularly cared about his ideals and musings. Other than Meteion, only you always listened to him. Only you ever truly understood.

You were always so vibrant, so exceptionally smart and caring that he couldn’t help but be ensnared by your many charms. Your existence had become a truly irreplaceable part of not just his life, but the daily lives of just about everyone on Elpis. You always went above and beyond to help whoever and however you could, from electing to be a late night study buddy to a colleague in need, to helping pitch in to clean entire dormitories unprompted, you were always quick to step in and assist without seeking anything in return. Your mere presence was a ray of sunshine, and in the few short years since you had begun working at the testing grounds, you had become so dear to so many- Hermes most of all.

He never wanted you to doubt this importance either, so he would exceedingly dote on you, providing you with his ceaseless support in all of your endeavors. So fervid was his cheerleading that he had garnered quite a few reprimands for showing you ‘obvious favoritism’, all of which he disregarded as rubbish. Hermes only ever awarded you the praise you deserved.

There was no way you could misconstrue his ardent feelings of adoration towards you- so why? Why were you distancing yourself now, when weeks ago the two of you were so incredibly close?

He couldn’t quiet the whirring in his head, the nagging feeling that you were slipping away from him for reasons he couldn’t comprehend. Your avoidance had become so prevalent that even matters pertaining to work seemed to perturb you, should Hermes be involved. His ideas and creations, all of which you used to dote on and swoon over when presented to you, were now regarded with hesitation and suspicion, eyed with the slightest hint of scorn.

The praise that used to gush from your lips had trickled to a standstill, uplifting and thoughtful commentary about his creative process completely quelled. His work always used to easily net him your beaming smile, but now he was lucky if he even got a nod of approval, let alone verbal acquiescence.

Unwilling to accept such lackluster interaction he began to work overtime, churning out creations with gusto he never exhibited prior. Each of his new designs was more elaborate and charming than the next, causing confidence to swell in his chest as he watched their births. He was sure that one of them would be just what was needed to reignite your feelings for him, making a promise to himself that whichever creation yielded this desired result would be honored by him eternally. He’d even grant it the distinction of sharing your name, hopeful that the delight it brought others would be sure to become your delight as well.

He dutifully summoned you the moment a new creature was born, making sure your eyes were the first to witness the latest marvel. To say Hermes was eager to see your response was an understatement, he was downright giddy over the mere prospect of your joy, pacing back and forth as he listened for the sound of your footsteps outside his door. Driven by his thirst for your approval, he yearned for the sweet glimmer that would spark in your eyes whenever you were pleased by his creations, finding solace in this small token of your delight, especially when your lips didn’t form the words.

Yet even with all the extra effort he expended, his attempts achieved nothing. In fact all the excess work garnered the opposite effect of what he desired, pushing you further away as he floundered, desperate in his attempts  to reel you back in.

It surely wasn’t the quality or the quantity of his constructs that were driving you away, and he couldn’t imagine you had suddenly grown distasteful of his work as a whole. Even while dodging her creator, you still maintained frequent contact with Meteion, taking time out of your hectic day to play with your most favorite of his familiars. Your love for her had never dwindled, and neither had your passion for creation. No, the only logical conclusion he could come to after all this was that it was he himself that you had become averse to.

And that hurt him, deeply.

In fact, it hurt him so much that Meteion couldn’t help but be caught up in his anguish, writhing and moaning in a state of addled torment each time the thought of you flitted through his mind (which was to say, constantly). Seeing the suffering he endured mirrored onto her cherubic, kind face plunged him further into despair, very quickly turning the whole situation into something unbearable.

At his tipping point, he did the only thing he could think to do. He scooped the small girl up in his arms, bee lining it to your chambers. He cared not that it was the dead of night or that this could very well just add to your distaste for him. He just needed to see you- needed the balm only you could provide.

All it took was a glance at sickly, pale Meteion to turn your initially displeased scowl into a look of utter concern.  With the ravaged girl draped limply in Hermes arms, you ushered the two of them into your room without question. You guided him to your bed with a steady hand placed on the small of his back, throwing the sheets this way and that to make a proper area for her to lay.

How wonderful it felt, having you touch him again.

A myriad of rapid questions tumbled from your lips, all of which pertained to Meteion’s poor state and what possibly could have happened to cause it. It was obvious from your frantic expulsions that you were clueless of the inner turmoil that Hermes had been suffering, your mind unable to fathom what event could have transpired on this beautiful, peaceful star to cause such a sweet being as Meteion to go into such a tizzy.

Initially, Hermes felt nothing but immense irritation over your ignorance. After all that had occurred by your hand, all the avoidance and contempt you had been directing his way, how could you not understand? How could he not be affected by your actions? How could you not see how much both of them needed you just to function, and how your self-imposed detachment from him lead to this conclusion?

Through gritted teeth, he struggled to keep his composure as he relayed the truth.

This was all your fault.

Once he started speaking, he found himself unable to stop the vitriol that bubbled up from his throat, birthed of the immense torment he had suffered through. It was almost painful, watching the way your face contorted with each admission. Witnessing you experience the realization that YOU were the cause of such anguish was akin to watching as you took repeated blows to the face, striking you with such concentrated ferocity you found it hard to maintain your balance. As your legs buckled under the weight of your transgressions, Hermes offered himself for support, helping to steady you despite the potency of his words. It was a good thing he was there to catch you, as you would have surely crumbled were he not around to embrace you.

Even overcome with anger, he treasured your proximity, savoring the weight of you in his arms as he held you close for the first time in a long time.

The exchange brought an odd sense of peace to him, unloading his concerns upon you greatly diminishing the burden he had damn near been buried beneath. Though the news caused you visible grief he felt no pity for the dissonance he had planted in your heart. While unfortunate, the guilt you were experiencing was a pain you had inflicted upon yourself, any melancholy brought on by your actions was a burden you deserved to bare. He felt no remorse over his tirade, instead feeling a sense of accomplishment as his words broke you down, leaving you with no other choice than face the bitter subjugation of the truth, understanding in full how greatly you had wronged him.

The ends justified the means.

As fat tears rolled freely down your ruddied cheeks, he was taken with how stunning you looked in the moment. Watching as you were overcome by emotions was a beautiful thing to witness. From the tremble of your shoulders, to the shaking of your legs, an overwhelming feeling of catharsis and awe flooded him as you sobbed and apologized in his arms. Even at your lowest, you were still absolutely enchanting.

Finally he was getting through to you. Finally you understood your importance to him. Finally you were realizing your true role in Elpis, nay, on this entire star.

It was to be his. Your smile, your kindness, your thoughts, your wisdom, the warmth of your touch, the sigh from your lips, your ecstasy and your pain- it was all his, and he would no longer deny his right to claim what belonged to him.

Warmth blossomed in Hermes chest the longer you clung to him. He extolled gentle whispers of reassurance while his methodical hands rubbed circular patterns against your back, the motions soothing him more than they seemed to soothe you.  Regardless, peace and balance were slowly being restored, the effects of which were beginning to manifest in Meteion as well. No longer in the grips of despair, her breathing evened as she looked over towards the two of you embracing, the sparkle returning to her clear and hopeful eyes as she took in the sight with a smile.

Everything was returning to as it should be, and this time around, he knew just the tricks to keep your heart from wandering any further.

[amoebaforce]

scions at a sleepover

it's Krile's nameday, and to celebrate, the former scions are spending the night in the Baldesion Annex. let's see what hijinks ensue. (inspired by this image of pajama Y'shtola)

Krile

truly the hostess with the most-est.

she let Tataru order the nameday cake, but Krile picks out all the snacks and beverages herself. her favorites, of course, but she makes sure everyone has something they like.

insists that everyone arrive in their pajamas. hers are yellow with little blue cats on them.

pulls out three different board games to pick from, some of them hers and some of them from her grandfather's old collection.

keeps the orchestration rolls pumping until the neighbors complain.

takes a commemorative photo and hangs it on her wall afterward.

Y'shtola

knows full well that there will be drinks and food, but still shows up with wine and chocolate bonbons to share.

wears a black satin nightgown and robe, with matching slippers and eye mask.

ropes Alisaie, Krile, Urianger, and the WoL into doing skincare masks with her, giggling the entire time.

even convinces Alphinaud to let her paint his nails. it isn't a very difficult task, all things considered.

doesn't start the pillow fight, just watches it unfold as she sips her wine.

passes out at midnight and doesn't move until dawn, missing a few late-night activities but waking up fresher than anyone.

Alisaie

starts the pillow fight.

eats half the candy and drinks 75% of the fruit juice. still high on sugar 36 hours later but has no regrets.

challenges Thancred to an arm-wrestling match, the results of which are hotly contested to this day.

spends a good portion of the night making up a very-elaborate secret handshake with the Warrior. they practice it over and over until they can do it with their eyes closed.

loudest "happy nameday" singer in the room.

her "pajamas" consist of a big t-shirt and chocobo-print shorts.

Alphinaud

wearing a classic button-up pajama set, blue with white polka dots, and bunny slippers.

says he doesn't want his nails painted, but then gets very invested in the color-selecting process and watches intently as the varnish is applied. scolds his sister when she almost smudges the finished product.

gets WAAYYY too competitive in their board game, insists they play 100% by the rules. loses to Estinien anyway.

ends up in the corner with Urianger eventually. he pulls out his drawing pad and sketches a few candid portraits: G'raha getting his hair braided, Krile blowing out the candles, the Warrior studying a hand of cards.

falls asleep first... wakes up with fake eyeglasses drawn onto his face.

Thancred

draws eyeglasses on Alphinaud's face with Krile's paints. careful fingers are quite handy (pun intended) in times like these.

absentmindedly downs an entire plate of candied chestnuts by himself while he watches Estinien cheat at their board game.

refuses a skincare treatment while Y'shtola's awake, then puts one on himself after she's fallen asleep. eye cucumbers and all.

when it gets late, he blows out most of the candles and tells a ghost story, putting on voices and using blankets and pillows as costumes.

gets admonished by Urianger because his story was "too scary".

eventually dozes off sitting upright in the corner, arms crossed like he fell asleep waiting for a wagon.

Urianger

arrives in a full old-man nightgown, gets mercilessly clowned for it by Estinien and the WoL

genuinely thinks the purpose of a sleepover is to sleep. starts drinking chamomile tea at 9 pm.

Krile requests a birthday card reading. Urianger obliges, and the next thing he knows, everyone wants one.

enjoys his facemask so much, he leaves it on for ten minutes longer than he's meant to.

does a puppet show to "make up for" Thancred's scary story, except he chooses an epic tragedy whose ending makes everyone cry.

yells at G'raha and the WoL for giggling at 5 am.

Estinien

didn't own pajamas until the day before, so he went out and bought a simple pair for the party. chooses a plain t-shirt and cotton plaid pants.

brings flowers as a gift for Krile, even though she said no gifts. grins to himself when she blushes.

wasn't paying attention when the board game rules were explained. doesn't even realize he was cheating until hours after he won.

laughs his ass off while Thancred draws on Alphinaud. suggests other "art" to add to the canvas, but Krile says one is enough, and he doesn't dare cross the nameday girl.

pounds back three bottles of wine between himself and Y'shtola. he's a pretty calm drunk, but the hangover is killer.

G'raha

he and the WoL arrive in matching attire, each carrying a plate of cookies.

lets Alisaie and Krile braid his hair into a bunch of different styles. models them for the adoring crowd.

persuaded into dancing by the WoL, surprises everyone by actually being good at it.

"judges" the much-contested arm wrestling match, but his official ruling of "too close to call" is still under question.

eats too many sweets and gives himself a stomach ache, has to bum some tea from Urianger.

is so traumatized by Thancred's terrifying tale that he can't sleep. even after the puppet show.

[koijikido]

🌀R U N (past)

Running. He had been running for so long. How long, he no longer knew. After he had left the mountains and stood on the hillside, Koiji had stared into the distance for a long time. Ignoring all his wounds, he had run as if pursued by the darkest shadow. And it wasn't even a lie. This dark shadow of horror, the smell of blood in the air, in the snow, burnt wood from afar, deep freezing silence and an icy biting cold wind. This deep red that had colored the white innocent sparkling snow in such a warm yet frightening color. Bodies, so cold and lifeless, faded and the breath of life that vanished.

********************

Sobbing and crying, he shoveled away the snow. The young Viera was desperate, shocked, deeply frightened and broken. His trembling hands scraped over the cold, frozen ground that had been uncovered by the snow. Hard, too hard, he couldn't get through, he just couldn't get through! Uttering a loud, desperate scream, he hit the ground again and again, and cried, pressing his forehead against the cold ground. The deathly silence around him.

It was piercing and the noise in his ears sounded even louder. Sobbing, he stood up and looked around before going to one of the lifeless bodies. Carefully, he removed one of the shoulder plates and then rammed it into the ground with all his might. It made it through the icy resistance. So he began to work the soil with the help of the shoulder plate, dig by dig. Minutes turned into hours. No animal dared to come near him, everything stayed away from him. Scattered snowflakes mingled with the wind, which blew relentlessly, carrying the lamentation of the Viera through the forest.

With an exhausted movement, he dropped the shoulder plate and wiped his eyes with his forearm, his face now a mixture of tears, blood and dirt. The blue eyes that once were so bright and blue as the sky itself on a sunny day, now cold and dull, went to the two lifeless bodies that had been lying next to him the whole time. Koiji closed his eyes and gathered himself before he took Oruro's body and placed it as carefully as possible – almost as if he wanted to prevent hurting him even more and causing him pain – in one of the pits. He placed him very carefully and with the utmost effort. Slowly, he reached for the hairpin that had been in his hair and put it in his bag, before turning to the cold body of Arun. He placed him with the utmost gentleness, too. And yet there was so much pain in every move he made – physically and emotionally. He gently removed Arun's hairpin, too, and put the broken pearls and everything else safely into his bag.

He stood there, trembling. Looked at the two of them. Stared at them for what seemed like endless minutes. Night had long since fallen, but the moon was bright and clear that night, no clouds in sight. A sad blue glow fell over them, bathing their bodies in a ghostly white that was so cold and sad as the snow when melting and fading away. Koiji coughed. He looked at his hand and saw fresh blood splatters. But he ignored them. Instead, he sobbed again and began to fill the graves with the shoulder plate, slowly and shakily. It was not typical for Veena. They did not bury their dead in the mountains. If they died in battle, they were not moved. They were left in place to become one with nature again, in recognition of their achievement and their deed. But Koiji knew about the customs of others – he had heard about them, and he wanted to implement this custom. He did not want to leave them lying in the blood-soaked snow next to the disgusting invaders. It was not honorable. It was anything but respectable and honorable! It took a long time; the Veena, with his injuries, had neither the strength nor the speed he usually had. But he didn't care.

When the graves were covered, he placed a shoulder plate in each of them and tied a ribbon around them – one red and one yellow-ochre. Koiji looked around and found untouched yellow winter aconite blossoms growing near a tree. He plucked them and placed the flowers on each of the graves, carefully placing each one so that they would neither be blown away nor simply fall down.

His heart beat heavily, almost too slowly, he felt. He could hear every heartbeat, roaring loudly in his ears, feel the pulsation in his chest. Koiji reached for his chest and clawed into the fabric.

“You said... you said you'd always be with me, Arun. You wanted to see the world outside just as much as I did. Now you can't anymore.” His voice faltered. "I wasn't strong enough. I wasn't attentive enough. You put yourselves in danger and instead of saving yourself, you searched for me. How could it come to this...?" Koiji sobbed bitterly and looked to the left, where the bodies of the Garleans still lay in the distance. His eyes fell back on the graves. “I promised to be brave. I promised to leave. To see the world. I promised to do it for you. You were my family... my real family. We laughed by the fire, we looked at the stars, we talked about all our feelings and thoughts. We trusted each other. I'm so sorry...” he whispered the last words painfully and began to weep bitterly again, shouting and crying. How many tears could one have? How long would it take to cry until they no longer came? How often would one scream until the voice failed and no more sound left his throat?

More agonizing minutes passed before he somehow regained his composure and looked at the graves. He closed his eyes, breathed deeply and quickly, and looked at the graves again. His heart, which had been beating painfully slowly, quickened. “I will come back. I won't forget you. I will come back again and again. I will be brave for you. I will show you the world out there. You will see it, too!” His hand touched the bag with the two hairpins of his friends, which were carefully stored. “I will never forget you...” he whispered. Koiji turned. Suddenly he started running, at first slowly, painfully slowly and limping in pain, but soon the limping became less, the running faster and finally he was racing. He raced through the snow-covered forest, panting with burning pain in his body, glowing pain in his heart and soul and burning eyes. He ran to the end of the forest, as if pursued by the shadow itself and without stopping.

He had lost all sense of time, he felt nothing at all except the burning and the pain, the loss and the grief. How he had made it out of the mountains and on to the edge, he no longer knew.

Koiji was almost at the edge of the forest when his legs gave out and he collapsed near a pond. He lay on the ground, panting heavily, barely able to move. His body felt like a stone, no, like a rock that had rolled down the slope and came to a halt.

Koiji closed his eyes, panting, feeling the ground on his cheek, on his whole body, as if he would merge with it any moment. Horrible images flickered before his mind's eye, he couldn't banish them. Not from his mind, not from his thoughts, not from his heart.

Suddenly, a soft rustling sounded not far from the Viera. His eyes opened, but it was so difficult for him to move. So difficult to turn his head. He had hardly any strength. Was it other Garleans? Had they followed him? Was it one of the beasts of the forest that could devour him, hungry and following his scent of blood?

Koiji closed his eyes. Should it get him, no matter who or what it was. Should it just get him and finish it. Then he would be with Arun and Oruro. Then the pain and suffering would be over. But the words that Arun had told him and the words he had spoken at their graves shot through his mind. Koji heard footsteps approaching him. Opening his eyes again, he turned his head with difficulty. At first his view was blurry, then it slowly became clearer. But he saw neither a Garlear nor a wild beast in front of him... His eyes looked up along the legs in front of him. A deep, fiery red plumage was in front of him and a large beak was bending down towards him.

“Kweh!”

**********

Note:

Being one of the earliest Spring flowers, Winter Aconites symbolize hope, rebirth and new beginnings.

[anneapocalypse]

Of the Depths

Wolianger Week, Day 4/5: Memory/Beach

FFXIV. Urianger/Warrior of Light, Urianger & Moenbryda. 1280 words. Rated T. Dawntrail spoilers.

The Gleamsands of Tuliyollal were aptly named. Waves of heat already shimmered off the beach, morning sun painting the tidal pools brilliant turquoise. Urianger could readily admit that it was beautiful, not unlike Il Mheg had been beautiful. Not the lake only, deceptively glass-clear, into which he would never have ventured but for dire necessity. The whole of the Faerie Kingdom, he thought now, might be compared to the sea—subject to naught but its own whims, as treacherous as it was enchanting. For all he had enjoyed his time among the fae, and as grateful as he was for the knowledge gained there, he had never forgotten what might befall him should he run afoul of their whims, or merely cease to offer an entertaining presence.

Reckless, perhaps, to reside there so long alone, and yet never had the fae instilled in him the kind of gut-churning fear that deep water did.

[ Read the rest on AO3! ]

[laspocelliere]

Day Two: Horizon

The sun never set on the Garlean Empire.

The phrase was trite, and cheap. It did well on motivational banners and propaganda, and quite poorly when jeered between the bunks of the conscription barracks. It was an accomplishment and a threat, a brag and a death knell. From its barren throne in the middle of its frozen core, the Empire stretched so far across Eorzea that it never knew true darkness; somewhere, there was always somewhere under the Emperor’s control.

He relished it.

He loathed it.

When Emperor Solus – the Ascian Emet-Selch, Hades, the Unsundered – looked out across the empire he’d built, there was a hollowness in his eyes that betrayed the truth of his great age. The room was warm and lush, red velvets and deeply stained woods, intricately woven carpets and thick windows insulated against the cold. He was comfortable, and untouchable, and utterly disappointed. No feat, regardless of size, could make any sort of lasting difference in his expression as he stared out into the world. Nothing on this fractured Source could console him in a way that would breach the walls of his calcified heart; neither the ragged sounds of screams, nor the honeyed murmurs of compliments mattered. Not then, and certainly not anymore.

Solus was dying, and the familiarity of it grated.

Sunrises and sunsets were met with the same callous expressions, his fading eyes focused directly on the sun itself that dared to shine upon all that he had built to the benefit of their great plan. He stared into it until his eyes watered, until his vision wavered, and all was naught but bright, golden light, shimmering like a mirage in his eyes even after he looked away. In the rippling fires of burning, bright light, he could almost imagine that he remembered what her face looked like, tilted up towards the sky in the warm afternoon glow and laughing, laughing, laughing.

Damn her.

Centuries, lifetimes later, and damn her to the lowest depths for the state she’d left behind. 

Annoyed, Emet-Selch turned away from the window, the sunlight flooding light but no warmth against his stooping back. There were children dead and children alive, soldiers and followers and enemies and pawns. He had played the game to perfection, setting in motion a chessboard that he alone could control, and its end game would lead to the Rejoining that would finally restore that which they had lost.

She could answer for herself, then.

The sun never set on the Garlean Empire. The sun never touched the frozen confines of its emperor’s soul. 

But he still needed to see the sun on the backs of his eyelids – the shadows of her form – if he wanted to fall asleep.

[scionshtola]

kiss roulette!! 34 for corishtola? 👀

34. A kiss after a bite | Corisande Ymir x Y’shtola Rhul | 371 words

A full moon hangs low above Old Sharlayan, the cobbled paths that wind through the city illuminated in blue by its light. But Y’shtola does not need the help of the moon on her hunt, her vision already allowing her to step soft and sure over the stones after her prey.

They walk ahead of her, long coat hanging from their shoulders, the delicate scent of their perfume carrying toward Y’shtola on the breeze. The click of their heels falls silent as they come to a stop before their door, digging through the pockets of their coat for their keys.

Y’shtola approaches in silence, watching as they lean over the door knob, curls cascading over one shoulder and leaving their long neck exposed.

Vulnerable.

She presses forward, taking advantage of their distraction. She rises on her toes, her hands curling over their shoulders to steady them both—

“Oh.” Corisande’s surprise escapes them in a small rush of breath when Y’shtola’s teeth meet their skin. Y’shtola imagines the way their eyes flutter shut when they still, when their next breath hitches in their chest.

And then Corisande is turning, looping their arms around Y’shtola’s neck with a light giggle. “I see you are taking your costume seriously, though the night is all but over.”

Y’shtola grins, flashing the faux fangs Corisande had provided her before the party. Her hands settle on Corisande’s hips beneath her coat, thumbs smoothing over the silk of her slip dress. Warmth radiates from her body, enticing Y’shtola closer against the cool night air.

“I am only trying to do justice to your idea. What kind of vampire would I be-“ she presses a soft kiss to the same spot where she had bitten them, and then another, lingering—“if I did not take a beautiful companion for my satisfaction?”

“‘Take’ me, hm?” they hum, turning them both until Y’shtola is pressed against their apartment door.

She smiles into the next kiss, letting Corisande take her weight for a moment when they finally swing the door open. “As you said, I am taking the costume seriously.” She pulls Corisande closer by her hips, across the threshold, closing the door behind them. “And the night is not yet over.”

[dalmascan-requiem]

Light's Overture: Magitek

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Cid makes a terrible error.

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Read on AO3 or keep reading after the jump

content warnings: none

Part of FFxivWrite 2024

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The Warrior of Light's ineptitude with technology wasn't originally well-known. Well... Cid learns about it the hard way.

This is for day one's prompt for FFxivWrite 2024, Steer.

“Well, I’ll be. I don’t know how you managed to take the Garleans out while keeping the armor intact, Kris, but I thank you for it.”

Cid flashes the Warrior of Light a grin as Biggs and Wedge give a thumbs up. “Now all we need are the disguises, and you’ll be able to infiltrate the Castrum.” 

The engineer taps a finger to his lips for a moment before continuing. “Kris, you haven’t driven Magitek armor before, right? Why don’t you pilot it back to Revenant’s Toll? While Wedge will be using it at the Castrum, it’ll be helpful for you to know how to control one… in case something happens.”

Kris stares blankly at Cid for a moment. “You want me to…?” A look of excitement spreads across his face as he nods. “Okay, sure! I promise not to break it!”

Huh? What does he mean by that…? Cid can’t help but feel that he made a mistake, but Kris already climbed into the armor and is staring at the control panel.

”Hm… how do I turn it on? Ah, this looks like it—“

“Kris, it’s already on—“

Suddenly, the Magitek armor rears back at an odd angle, threatening to throw Kris out of the driver’s seat. “H-hey! What is—“ He pulls a nearby lever in shock, and the armor shoots its remaining rounds of ammunition into the skies above Mor Dhona.

Oh… Hells…

The Ironworks engineers could only look at the ensuing chaos in horror. Kris starts hitting buttons randomly in a panic, causing the armor to pitch around wildly while he struggles to stay on. After what feels like an eternity, the sound of a sharp crack fills the air as the Magitek armor finally powers down.

Cid watches the smoke rising from the armor in silence, feeling a headache coming on as Kris looks at the control panel in confusion. “Oh. Is… is it okay?”

”Kris, just… get out of the armor. Please.”

He quickly gets out of the armor and watches as Biggs and Wedge access the damage, a slight pout on his face. Well, I suppose the Warrior of Light had no need to learn how to pilot Garlean tech… 

“It’s still structurally sound… somehow.” Wedge shakes his head as he looks at one of the armor’s legs. “One of the components in this leg is busted, but with the right parts, we can fix it. I think.”

”Well, that is a blessing, at least.” Cid sighs, suddenly feeling very tired. “Let’s get this back to—“

Kris perks up as he learns the armor can be fixed. ”Oh, that's good! Do you need me to help with—“

”NO.” The voices of the trio echo in the valley, and Kris looks down at the ground, sulking at the disapproval.

I’d find that more endearing had he not damn near blown up the armor just now… “We all… have our strengths, Kris. Why don’t you secure the disguises? We’ll take care of the armor.”

Kris nods. “Alright, I’ll get it done.” Cid wasn’t sure if Kris was still upset at the incident, but when he was out of earshot, he lets out a deep breath and turned to the others.

”The Warrior of Light is never allowed inside the Ironworks.”

[kannedia]

FFXIV Write 2024 - Day 10 - Stable

Asel was all of six years old when she saw a Carbuncle for the first time.

"Mom! Dad! What is that?"

The sun was high and the sky was clear that day. It was a wonderful day, though if one were to ask the young Au Ra all days when her parents brought her into the city were wonderful.

Her mother, Maral, chuckled as she looked down at her daughter Asel. She had one tiny hand in hers and the other was pointed at the summoned creature.

Her father, Kiran, stopped and leaned down to speak to her face-to-face. He was smiling softly. "That's a Carbuncle, dearling."

"They're creatures composed of both ambient and their Summoner's aether," Maral explained as she noticed the confused look on Asel's face. "They help in the Summoner's day-to-day tasks."

"Incredible! It's so pretty! Do you think I could do that?" Asel was looking at both of them eyes wide with awe.

Maral and Kiran exchanged a glance. They knew their daughter. It was entirely possible that she would.

---

A small orb of aether formed in Asel's palm before flickered into and out of existence for a few odd seconds then guttered out. She grumbled bitterly before turning her attention back to her notes.

She was ten. Had been ten for the past month. And had spent the last month near feverishly looking over the beginner's tome her parents had bought her.

The math had not been as difficult as she thought it would be. It was the control that was causing her trouble. The conceptualization as her studies phrased it.

Her mother said she was being hasty in her expectations. Asel on the other hand, had the feeling if she didn't keep to her studies she wouldn't summon her first Carbuncle until she was an adult too.

---

Asel was actually fourteen when she summoned her Carbuncle for the first time. It was a wispy thing. A barely stable form on light and aether that she could only get to last for half a minute at most.

Still, it was a start and it was beautiful.

She would have to thank her father again when he finished work. He had been giving her lesson on aether manipulation, on her asking, since she was twelve.

It had still surprised him when he saw it for the first time. Her mother just grinned and gave her a hearty pat on the back.

---

"Ariel! Get. Off. My. Desk."

Asel's Carbuncle stared back at her like a curious kitten. It had its left paws on her textbook and the right ones on her homework. If not for her frustration, she would just be grateful that it wasn't smudging the ink.

Her first corporeal and stable summoning of the impish creature was when she was sixteen. Her mother and father were happy for her and they had paella for dinner.

It had only lasted five minutes at the time. With practice and a year of careful study, it made the trip to school with her every morning. Asel could only wonder how much further she could go.

"If I'm going to become a capable adventurer then we're going to have to work on our teamwork," Asel stated with a sigh as she shooed Ariel off her desk. It scampered off to her bed and rested on her pillow. "I wonder if all Carbuncles are like this."

[rune-writes]

Horizon

Fandom: Final Fantasy XIV

Word Count: 946

Rating: G

Pairing: WoL & Thancred

Summary: In which Nayra finds solace in the horizon after the events of Aitiascope.

Notes: I'm slowly posting my ffxivwrite fics on tumblr (though I've only written 5 lol), but yea, Day 2 of FFXIVwrite2024: Horizon. For context, my WoL, Nayra, lost her family in the Calamity. She partially blames herself for it, because she's the only one who survived. She is learning to come to terms with it with the help of her friends. During Aitiascope, she heard her parents' voice urging her forward. This story is set right after.

Read on AO3.

~*~*~*~*~*~

“Fancy seeing you here.”

Nayra turned around and spotted Thancred climbing the winding stairs with two large glasses in his hands. She cocked an eyebrow, lips curling into a tiny smirk. Thancred acted like he didn’t see it and instead held a glass out to her. 

“Care for a pint?” he asked. 

“You know I don’t drink.”

“Very true. Which is why Tataru sent me with another glass filled with juice instead. Apple.” He switched his hands and indeed, the new glass did look like it contained juice—if Tataru didn’t pull any tricks. Not that she would. Nayra smiled somewhat wryly before accepting the glass—one of those wooden mugs from the Last Stand. She swirled the mug, then decided to take a sip. A sharp tang of sourness with a hint of sweetness washed down her throat. Apple, indeed. 

“Thanks,” she said. 

“You’re welcome.” He took the spot next to her, leaning over the railing and resting his arms on the balustrade. 

Nayra studied his profile for a moment. She had no reason. She just… watched him. The way he gazed out the open expanse of the sea, how his pupils constricted and his brows winced when the light caught his eyes, how he brought the rim of his glass to his lips and his throat bobbed as pint—or whatever he had brought with him—went down it. It was a moment after he rested his glass arm on the railing once more that he let out a quiet chuckle and glanced sideways at her. 

“You’re gonna bore a hole in my head with the way you’re looking at me.”

Nayra blinked. She hadn’t realized. 

She cleared her throat then took another gulp of her juice. “So what brings you here?” she asked instead. 

Thancred barked another laugh. “For your information, this has been my secret place since before you came here.”

“It’s not so secret with how open it is,” Nayra retorted with a smile. 

They stood on the outermost platform of Sharlayan’s harbor—a circular half tower connected to the rest of the dock by a set of winding stairs. As open as it was, people rarely went there, except, probably, one of the Ironhearts, a family of explorers Nayra never failed to meet in her journey. Babeth Ironheart wasn’t present at the moment, and Nayra had deemed it the best place to be with her thoughts. It wasn’t that she was averse to companionship, but had Ironheart been there, Nayra might have found herself chatting with her about the places they’d visited instead—a feat now made possible with Thancred’s entrance. 

“‘Tis a good place, though,” Thancred concurred. “The sea spreads before you like a glistening sheet of diamonds; the sky expands as far as the eye could see. You don’t often see such an unobstructed view of the horizon.” He paused. “I used to come here because it reminded me of Limsa.” 

Nayra cradled her glass in her hands. She took a sip, then turned around to face the sea. “Did you used to miss Limsa?” she asked.

“I missed the chaos—the cacophony. You have to know: for a street urchin, Sharlayan wasn’t exactly my kind of city.” Nayra laughed; yes, she could see that. “The amount of headache I’d given Master Louisoix and my mentor. Though I ended up acclimating to it, sooner or later, but sometimes I’d go here when I wanted to have some peace of mind.” 

This place did have that calming quality to it, or perhaps it was only their nature to seek the open sky and open sea when their heart and mind lay unsettled. All her childhood, she had always wanted to see where the sky met the earth with neither mountains nor forests to obstruct her view. Her father had been a traveling merchant and whenever he returned home, he would show her the most exotic things he’d found on his journey. So time and again, she would ask to come with him, and she had—she, her sister, and their mother, coming along on his longer expeditions. The first time she’d beheld the sea, the width and breadth had taken her breath away. 

They’d gone to Aitiascope the night before—had met all the people she’d loved and lost throughout the years. Sometimes, Nayra liked to think that she had buried her past behind her, but the moment she heard her parents’ voices as she was making her way out of the aetherial sea, her time had stopped—enough that G’raha had noticed her halt and asked what was wrong. Tears she hadn’t realized she’d been holding trickled down one by one. She’d turned around, expecting—hoping—to see them, to catch a glimpse of them, but she found nothing in the bridge connecting the facility to the elevator. Nothing except coalescing motes of silver light. 

‘Nayra…’ 

Her breath had hitched at the familiar voice. 

‘We’re so proud of you, Nayra…’

Nayra swirled her cup once more. The sky was clear enough that she could almost see her reflection on her drink, murky and dark. 

Thancred hadn’t said anything else. He’d just sipped his pint and looked unflinchingly toward the distant horizon. No doubt he had other problems to worry about, but Nayra had a feeling she knew the real reason he was there. She chuckled to herself. 

“I should thank Tataru for bringing me the juice,” she said. “And an apology. I seem to worry everyone a lot.”

“As long as you know.” Thancred raised his glass. “You’re always there for us at our lowest. I need you to know that we’re always there for you too.”

A small smile tugged at Nayra’s lips. She bowed her head. “Thank you.” 

[nidstiniens]

Title: Please Be Naked Rating: Explicit. Genre: Smut, Light Angst, Friends to Lovers Chapters: 01/01 (Complete) Pairing: Estinien x WoL Notes: Part 5 of It's Only You that Matters

Preview:

They're in his room at Radz-at-Han, their clothes half-shed and discarded in heaps at the foot of the bed. She's settled herself in his lap, her bare chest pressed flush against his own, and he can hardly believe how unbearable the four days since they'd first entertained this have been. Four long, torturous days he'd spent with the memory of her on the tip of his tongue, the ghost of her taste as persistent as a headache, his hopes strung along by six simple words: "We should do it again sometime."

Read More

[lilas]

fancy

WC: 1533 | G | Aymeric x Avi’li (WoL)

Avi’li thinks about Aymeric while he lays drunk on the floor with Haurchefant. Set after Patch 2.4

Big thank you to @myreia for helping me edit this! 💕💕

—

Carefully considered words, spoken low and steady in a voice like velvet. Cheeks tinted pink from the bite of snow. Ice blue eyes framed beneath long, dark lashes. Lips upturned in a polite smile…

Avi’li hadn’t paid much attention to the meeting. The words exchanged between Aymeric and Alphinaud lost to him—something about Midgardsormr and heretics — attention captured by this man dressed in blue and gold. Funny how Aymeric fascinates him in a strange way. The man has naught but to be there and Avi’li can’t help but observe how he stands—stance poised, his arms settled across his broad chest, chapped lips parting in small exhales.

It makes sense. Aymeric is an admirable man; kind yet firm, patient but unyielding, a true leader in every sense of the word. Avi’li has every reason to want to study his example. Jacke had inspired the same feelings when they first met (his profile silhouetted, barely there smirk handsome in the street lights of Limsa) and proved to be a great mentor. Aymeric may yet fill a similar role (wind toussels his black hair, dusted with white snow).

Yet every time Aymeric meets his eyes, Avi’li feels his chest squeeze and a curious heat rise to his face. It’s the same feeling he gets when he’s squished side by side with Y’mhitra over an Allagan text, her fingers tracing her jaw while lips purse in thought; the same feeling he gets when V��kebbe stretches her arms over her head, mouth held slack after a catnap in the sun and lit in the evening glow.

It’s strange, Avi’li thinks, that these different sensations feel so similar. One born out of attraction and the other… a desire, but a desire for what? He traces his lips and imagines the shape of Aymeric’s. Do they feel rough from the cold? Soft? Avi’li’s tongue ghosts his lips. Do they taste as sweet as he smells, like maple?

Maybe it’s simply envy for Aymeric’s poise and power and countenance. Maybe—

“And what is our foremost Primal hunter doing with such a pensive expression?”

Avi’li’s fingers drop from his lips (when did he start touching them?) and his head turns towards Haurchefant. “Did I look pensive…?”

They lay together on the plush rug of Haurchefant’s private rooms in Camp Dragonhead, several hours after Aymeric bid farewell and returned to Ishgard with his retinue. Flames lick out from the fireplace, heat sinking into stone and blanketing the room in a pleasant warmth. Two goblets sit by their heads, and a wine bottle is precariously situated against Haurchefant’s bent leg.

“You did, and I do not think the wine is solely to blame for such a far away look.” Haurchefant moves his leg, knocking into the wine. He startles and darts for the bottleneck, fumbling a bit before he holds it secure and moves it safely to another spot on the floor. Sighing with relief, he adjusts himself so he rests on his side, stretched out parallel to Avi’li and smiling. “Pray allow me to be privy to your thoughts?”

Avi’li answers with a shrug. “Thinkin’ about Aymeric.”

“The Lord Commander?” Haurchefant raises an eyebrow. “What about him?”

“Ay’anno, just thinkin’ about him.”

“Ah, requested another meeting did he?”

“Wouldn’t you be the one to know that?”

Haurchefant sighs, dramatically wistful. “Unfortunately I am not someone he discloses clandestine rendezvous in the moonlight to.”

Avi’li scoffs, “Nothin’ clandestine is happenin’. I just… ” he waves his hand above their heads, fingers spread, “…admire him.”

“I see.”

“He’s an interestin’ man. Smart and tall and collected. That stuff.”

“As you say….”

Avi’li frowns at the suspicious tone and rolls onto his side to properly face Haurchefant. His friend is trying and horrifically failing at hiding a crooked grin. “What?”

“What about?”

“Why’re you smilin’ like a spriggan?”

“Like a spriggan? Are you implying my teeth are anything similar to a creature who gnaws on rocks for a living?”

“I’m implying you look like a spriggan who just found a crystal horde. Why?”

“Only for the reason that your fancy for Ser Aymeric is quite adorable.”

Avi’li blinks. “My fancy?”

“Mhm.” Haurchefant’s head and shoulders relax back into the rug. He is looking much too smug for Avi’li’s liking. “Honestly, I should have known when you were so blatantly staring at him during your introductory meeting.”

“I was not blatantly—“

“Then you were staring discreetly?”

“I wasn’t starin’ at all!” Avi’li rolls onto his back, arms folded tightly across his chest. It’s too warm in the room now. The combination of fire and wine makes his head swim. “It’s bloody freezin’ here.” Aymeric sits opposite him across the table, haloed by the soft glow of fire. “I wanted to get closer to the fire…”

The words trail off. A soft frown pinches Avi’li’s brow, doubt in his own words. The fire had been so far from his mind.

Haurchefant sucks his teeth, unconvinced. He lazily reaches out and tugs a stray lock of Avi’li’s silvery hair. “No one would blame you for it, you know,” he says as Avi’li bats his hand away. “Ser Aymeric is a handsome man, and a good quarter of knights could admit to feeling the same.”

“Haurchefant, I have a girlfriend.” Y’mhitra. Beautiful, intelligent Y’mhitra with an older, scarier sister. Haurchefant scoffs.

“It cannot be considered unfaithful for merely being attracted to someone else besides your partner. Then everyone would commit infidelity.”

I guess that’s true, Avi’li thinks. Dating someone has never kept his eyes from wandering, albeit things are different with Mhitra. Exclusive. Is it really okay for him to feel this way? Is it really made better if so many others feel the same?

Wait, Avi’li squints at Haurchefant. “A quarter of knights… are you attracted to Aymeric?”

Haurchefant coughs uncomfortably. Sitting up, he preoccupies himself with the goblets and wine. He tops their drinks off, finishing the bottle. All the while, Avi’li watches him with increasing speculation.

Finally, as he hands Avi’li a cup, Haurchefant admits, “I was, yes. For a short time, just in passing, really.” He observes his drink, lifts it high, watches the light glint off the polished bronze. “We never had much reason to speak to each other until we came into our respective positions.”

“So you never fucked?”

Haurchefant barks out a laugh. “No! Could you imagine? Mm, actually I can imagine—“ he shakes his head—“But we do have a bit of a shared history with the same man.” His thumb taps against his goblet. “Training can be an insular time for all of us.”

Avi’li’s frowns and takes a sip of wine. “And how did you know you were crushin’? That you weren’t just… admirin’?”

“Crushing?”

“Fancyin’.”

“Avi’li, you’ve been with others before, correct? Romantically?” Avi’li arcs an eyebrow, staring. “Ah.” Haurchefant waves a hand. “Quite right and anyone besides your dear Y’mhitra?”

“Yes…”

Haurchefant can’t help the soft laugh at his friend’s wary tone. “And when you are… were around them, ‘admiring’ them as you say, how do you feel?”

“Like my…” Avi’li’s brows furrows, eyes blinking slowly. “…chest was being squeezed…”

Y’mhitra, bathed in the glow of her lamplight and Avi’li can’t help but lean forward and kiss her. When V’kebbe bites into a sandwich with all the bliss in the world and Avi’li wonders about her teeth on his skin. How Jacke’s fingers slide down the length of a knife and—

He gapes. “Did I fuckin’ have a crush on Jacke?”

“Language, my good sir,” Haurchefant tsks. “And who in the seven hells is Jacke, pray tell? I thought we were talking about Ser Aymeric?”

—when Aymeric meets his eyes across the oak table with a smile and Avi’li must look away, heat in his chest.

“Fuck. I think I like Aymeric.”

“You do not say.”

“In the fancyin’ way.”

“In all honesty, I am deeply surprised you were not already aware.”

“How was I supposed to know?” Avi’li releases a wistful sigh, eyes fixed to the wooden beams above their heads, expression wondrous. “I’ve never thought of a man in this way before. What do I even do?”

A moment of comfortable quiet envelopes them. Haurchefant sits and observes Avi’li’s silent musings, watching the emotion shift so openly in his face. Finally, he sets the goblet down, moves a touch closer to his friend and lays beside him, eyes cast up to the ceiling.

“You would not court two women the same way, would you?”

“No.”

“And you would not court anyone without discussing it with Y’mhitra first?”

“Of course not.”

Haurchefant nudges his side lightly with an elbow. “Then this need not be any different. Every person is unique in how you approach them for romance and intimacy. You need not act on it at all if you do not wish it. Do not overthink this simply because of someone’s gender. Instead, I encourage you to enjoy how much love this world has to offer us.”

Avi’li chuckles warmly. “Such a poet.”

“Of course, any self respecting Ishgardian knight is such.”

“Hm.” A pause. Then— “Do you think he knows?”

“Fuck, yes.”

“What? No way.”

“My dearest friend, you are not subtle at all.”

“Oh, fuck off.”

[pink-lizard-diaries]

*drops this fic during maintenance and runs off*

Look, I know what it looks like. I KNOW how I tagged it. You're just gonna have to trust me here

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Please, Estinien! I cannot bear to fight you!” The Warrior of Light cried out to him, the surrounding blizzard mirroring the storm in her heart.

The Azure Dragoon growled and clutched at his head. “It is too late. The dread wyrm has all but taken me. You must flee, before I am forced to…”

And suddenly he was upon her, her back pressed to the ground, his lance at her throat. He knelt over her prone form in the Coerthan snow, ready to strike the killing blow. 

“Estinien…” Her hand reached up to caress his cheek beneath his helm, catching a tear that rolled down his face. “I know this is not you. Come back to me.”

“Oh, Anzu…I…I…” The lance fell to the ground beside them, and a moment later he ripped off his helm and cast it aside as well. Finally, finally their mouths met, teeth and tongues clashing in a passionate kiss, their armored bodies pressed as close as could be. His hand slid down the exposed stomach of her drachen mail, drawing more of a shiver from her than the cold ever could, and then one by one, undid the buckles until he was able to reach his fingers into— 

Anzu snapped the book shut, feeling an intense heat gather in her cheeks that she was certain would show on her face. “Kami take me, why does this exist?” she whispered in anguish. Her eyes darted toward a pile of books atop a nearby shelf, and she immediately dug through them, trying to bury the copy of Coerthan Torment she’d been perusing as deep inside it as she possibly could. She could not be seen purchasing this book, but somehow, she had to make certain that no one else would ever be able to read it.

“Searching for anything in particular, miss?” 

Anzu jumped and suppressed a shriek as the elderly Elezen shopkeep appeared behind her. She spun around, letting the books fall where they may, and forced a smile. “I, uh. Only browsing!”

The old woman regarded her with a look of slight confusion until she noticed the pile of books behind Anzu steadily slipping onto the floor. “Dear me, I really should have tided this up ages ago,” she muttered, plodding over and scooping them up one by one.

Before Anzu could stop her, G’raha appeared at her side, both arms occupied with a motley assortment of books and grinning from ear to ear. “Quite an impressive collection they have here!” he gushed. “Have you found anything of interest?”

Anzu grimaced, unable to tear her eyes away from the book pile. “I suppose you could say that.”

G’raha looked at her quizzically. “I’ve found everything I’d like, but if you still need a moment…”

“No,” she mumbled. “I think I’ve had enough of books for one day.”

~*~*~

A little while later, the two of them sat on a bench in The Pillars, munching on some miniature meat pies purchased from a street vendor. The sun had made a rare appearance in Ishgard that afternoon and beamed down upon their faces, warming them just a little in the frosty air.

G’raha finished his lunch with a satisfied sigh and immediately began rummaging through the two bags worth of books he’d just bought. “These ought to keep me occupied for at least another week or two,” he said, taking out a book and leafing through its pages.

Anzu’s eyes widened. “Raha, you bought nearly thirty books!”

He grinned. “I’ve always been a quick reader.” He glanced over at her and tilted his head. “You truly found nothing to interest you in that shop? I thought I caught a glimpse of you reading something quite intensely…”

Anzu tried very hard not to choke on the mouthful she was halfway through swallowing. “I…” She pondered for a moment whether or not to tell him, but…but surely he of all people would sympathize with her. 

“I found…some romance novels,” she said, staring hard at the nearby shrubbery and feeling the blush creep back onto her face. “Written about me. A few paired me with Haurchefant, some with Aymeric, and…a very racy one with Estinien.” Her blush grew more fierce remembering the words on that page. “Honestly, how do these things come to be written in the first place…?”

She finally stole a glance at G’raha, who’d fixed her with an apologetic yet amused smile. “People do love to write about their heroes…in all sorts of ways,” he said. 

“I suppose I should expect it it, given who I am,” Anzu said, frowning slightly. “Although it would be nice if they were heroic instead of…titillating.” 

“So it goes,” G’raha chuckled. “You know, come to think of it…” He leaned his head to the sky, lost in thought. “A few books of that like were in the stash the Ironworks sent with me when I travelled to the First. Tomes of all sorts written about the Warrior of Light, some more outlandish than others. Yes…I think I read one or two, myself.”

Anzu’s meat pie slid from her hands and splatted pathetically on the ground. “You what?!”

Very suddenly realizing what he had just said, G’raha’s eyes went wide as saucers and he spun to face her. “N-not for the reasons you may think,” he sputtered. “It was just to pass the time—purely out of academic curiosity! Had I known…”

Even as the words spilled from his mouth, Anzu found herself burying her face in her hands. Perhaps it was childish of her; since they’d become a couple, she’d grown comfortable with the intimacy between them. But still…

She heard G’raha sigh, felt him gently take her hands in his and lower them so they could see each others’ faces. A look of shame fell over his features. “Pray forgive my careless words,” he said, sounding repentant. “I empathize with your discomfort. Truly, I do.”

His eyes dropped, and she noticed a tinge of red in his cheeks. “What do you mean by that?” she asked.

He cleared his throat just a little. “During my time on the First, I became aware of several novels written about the Crystal Exarch, of varying levels of…frivolity.”

She stared at him, a little blankly at first, as her mind processed this new information. G’raha continued, trying—and failing—to sound completely composed.

“Despite my protestations, the books entered general circulation, and I realized I was fighting a losing battle. I was forced to concede to the will of the people. And doubtless those books still remain on the shelves of the Cabinet of Curiosity to this very day.” The blush bloomed further across his face, and he took a breath. “Should it please you…you have my blessing to seek out any such books the next time you visit the First. ‘Tis only fair.”

She continued to stare at him for a few moments longer, her shame slowly melting away, replaced by a very small sense of impish glee. She pursed her lips in an attempt to hide her smile. “So then,” she started, “do you think there could be any such frivolous books pairing the Crystal Exarch and the Warrior of Darkness? Romantically?” she asked, trying to keep her voice casual.

G'raha was dumbstruck for half a moment as he seemed to realize what she was doing. His eyes darted away and a forced, thin smile appeared on his lips. “By now, I've no doubt there are several.”

“Shall I bring one back with me next time, then?” Anzu asked, a giggle slipping through. “Perhaps we could read it together.”

G'raha finally let out a short laugh himself, his smile warming. “If such is your wish. It may even prove to be quite…entertaining.” His hands squeezed hers, his thumb brushing up and down her wrist, his crimson eyes twinkling.

And quite suddenly, Anzu's blush returned in full.

[pillowfriendly]

WAUUUUGHHH ITS DONE!!! go read it. normal chapter that doesn't bite, he's friendly ok?