#day 23: on cloud nine

[starres-stuff]

Day 23: On Cloud Nine FFXIV Writes 2024

CW/TW: Difficult Childhood, Difficult relationship with parent

On Cloud Nine: to be extremely happy and excited

“It was difficult being around her at times. It felt like she could suck the happiness out of a room in one breath. I remember the summer I was accepted to train as a ballet dancer for one of the larger Ishgardian groups. I ran to her office with the letter in my hand, I was so excited to have the chance and all she did was pluck it out of my hands, ball up the invitation, and toss it in the garbage. All while looking right through me and simply saying no.” 

Viviane's nose crinkled profoundly as she finished telling Xixa the tale, the pair had been exchanging stories about their childhood and their parents as they baked cookies and iced cakes for the next day's business. The long hours they often spent together in the small bakery they have created a friendship between them that went beyond mentor and student as they had once been when Viviane first arrived in the Shroud. 

“Something I learned from my Mother that yours could have used. You can't take your issues out on your children. You are responsible for letting them live out their lives while gently nudging them forward to adulthood. I can't tell ya the number of times I pretended to be on Cloud Nine for one of my girls, all the while crying on the inside because I had a shitty day, even when my Liri came home pregnant at seventeen I hid all the things I wanted to say because she was happy.” 

Xixa lifted her arm, her hand dragging across her forehead to wipe away the tiny beads of sweat that had formed from having the four ovens going. The good thing was the Shroud was preparing for another autumn season and the temperatures were not as bad as they had been all summer, but the heat these ovens could pump out was enough to feel like you were in one of those sweat lodges she had seen at those new-fangled spa places she kept hearing about. What she did not realize was that she had left streaks of flour going up into her mostly jet-black hair, which made it look like her natural silver streaks had grown bigger. 

“You can't punish your children for your life, always remember that if you have your own. Hurts like the hells bit you when you realize what you missed out on but it is for the best.” 

Across the room at another oven, Vi was taking stacks of chocolate chip mint cookies from the oven and setting them on the rack before placing another full pan in and setting the timer for them to back. These conversations had always made her feel like she had found the Sister she wanted in Xixa, the Viera was older than she and had experienced many things that she was willing to share. “She was a very cold woman, colder than even me. Even when we reconnected after she arrived in Gridania, she was aloof at best. I would try to get her to talk about family history or the things that I needed to know about running the house or managing its assets. She would hand me books of instructions to read and she would wave me off like I was some staff member being shooed off to work so I stopped bothering her. The odd thing was, she was much kinder to everyone else than she was to me.” 

All Xixa could do was shake her head “Well anytime you have good news you want to share come see Vi if your husbands aren't home. I'll hoot and holler with you, dance around on cloud nine. I don't make light of how that woman treated you. Your Aunt Doshaine used to tell me the same about her Sister. Only met her once myself. She handed me her bag and coat like I was house staff. Doshaine apologized to me for that for turns. The thing is as we get older, I think we have to be our, own, parents if it makes sense. What happened, happened. It is behind you now, but the things that make you feel the worst, change them into things you like or ways you would have enjoyed. Used to tell one of my patients to talk to herself, adult to child when the memories hit her, you are safe now after all. That woman has no power here.” 

Outside there was a sudden clap of thunder and three cracks of lightning, then the rain came, the sound of it hitting the roof made Vi look up towards the ceiling. “It’s creepy how when you or Dimitri give advice there is a storm.” It was a change of topic, but Xixa understood it, some things were too hard to talk about. They took time to take seed and grow in a person’s mind. 

“Maybe it’s Shroud Magic, maybe it is a coincidence.” Xixa grinned and gave Vi a wink. “Don’t rattle your pan about it too much, girl, it will leave you confused and without answers.” 

[http-tokki]

~tags/cw: mature content, pregnancy, allusions to abortion, establish relationships, aged up characters (23-25) katsuki is not ready to be a 23 year old teenage parent, domesticity.

a/n: this is a draft dump. it’s not proofread or edited. idk the word count x

“ ‘Suki, I need you to come here” your voice shakes as you stare down into the bathroom sink. “Now, please”

You wait and listen and when there is a lack of footsteps coming your way, you call again. “Bakugou. Bathroom, please”

A groan comes from the living room, then the sound of the couch moving and then footsteps. “Bakugou? Am I in troub-woah, what’s going on?”

Katsuki stops in the doorway, brows furrowing as he takes in the sight of you leaning over the sink, eyes trained on the drain. He had seen you like this before and it was usually before you started heaving your guts up and you called him to hold your hair, but you were so still, he didn’t think you were about to puke.

“Can you look at these and tell me if I’m going crazy?” Your voice is small.

These?

Katsuki steps into the bathroom, fear creeping into his stomach at the unknown and when he peaks over your shoulder, his heart all but stops.

Sitting in the porcelain basin is three positive pregnancy tests. No faint lines or maybe yes’s. Three bright pink plus signs staring at him from what was once his peaceful baby free bathroom sink.

“Ahhh…” he starts, unsure of his ability to form a coherent sentence, and backs away from your shoulder. “You….ummm”

You sigh. “Yep that’s what I thought”

Bakugou watches as you turn to face him, as you sink to the floor and pull your knees to your chest, eyes starting to cloud with tears.

“What…. Do?” His mouth is opening and closing as if he is gasping for air. “Are we?”

“I don’t really know” you answer is unformed questions, shaking your head. “I just need to sit and think for a second”

He nods and joins you on the floor. Your breathing is heavy as you desperately try to stop the room from spinning, the fear rising in your stomach as the weight of reality sinks down on your shoulders. You can feel the weight, the heaviness on the situation pushing down, shoving you to the floor in a harsh jolt but you don’t hit the tiles. You sink through the concrete and down down down into the earth below. You’re not ready to be a mum, to carry a baby for nine months and then be it’s caregiver for the rest of your life. You’re barely an adult, how were you meant to be a parent?!

You hear Katsuki talking next to you but it’s as if you’re underwater. His voice is garbled and unintelligible. Katsuki. What did he want? You can’t ask him to give up his career for a baby. He’s barely a pro and now this. He-

“Hey, you need to breathe!” Hot hands on your shoulders pull you back to reality. “You’re going to pass out so take a breath, please”

You blink away the tears, eyes clearing as you return to the bathroom. Air rushes into your lungs as you open your mouth.

“Okay, and now out” he instructs.

Your body sags as the air leaves. You both repeat the steps of manual breathing until you’re back, chest moving in a natural rhythm and even then, he doesn’t let go of you.

“Katsuki, I don’t know what to do” you admit, defeat lacing your voice.

You know what you want to do but it’s not just you in this situation. It was every much Katsuki’s issues as it was yours.

“What do you want to do?” His voice is uncharacteristically small.

“I don’t- I can’t” You shake your head. “What do you want?”

Katsuki shakes his head. “Nope. It’s your body. You decide. What do you want?”

You take in a deep breath. “I can’t do this. I don’t want this.” you admit.

“Are you sure? You’re not just saying that cause of me?”

“I’m sure. I can’t even feed myself most days I’m not going to be a mother” your voice cracking as your sentence comes to an end.

You watch as Bakugou’s body slumps in relief. “Oh,thank god.” his reprieve is short as he grabs your hands and frantically scrambles to patch up any blows he had made to your ego. “of course i want to have kids with you but one day, i just don’t think i’m, were, ready right now but one day we can have a baby, a million babies if you want but i don’t think that-“

“ ‘suki, you need to breathe” it’s your turn to offer comfort, gripping his hand in yours so hard you worry you might hurt him. “we’re not having this baby but that doesn’t mean that maybe one day, we won’t but right now, it’s not happening.”

Katsuki nods, breathing still frantic but it was slowing, becoming deeper and more even.

“not today.”

“not today. one day, but not today.”

[beemochi-art]

20, 23, and 38 for Oplita, please?

HURRAH!! OPLITA!!!

20) Optimus brought some kittens he found at the side of the road back to base. Now there are a bunch of cats that come and go.

23) Elita for sure. She’s all over him. Optimus is a bit awkward when asking for affection. Or when doing anything affectionate for that matter. But once she picks up on it boom, she pounces.

Op loves it, he just lays back and relaxes…Eventually

38) Elita has had babies (haha milf), so she has experience. Matter a fact she probably has or down to a formula. She’s not perfect, no one is, but she’s pretty damn good. Elita has absolute unconditional love for them. She’s on cloud nine and can see herself having more in the future with Optimus.

Optimus has always retained a level of wisdom and been kinda a fatherly figure to most of the younger bots. But to have kids of his own, he doesn’t know what to think, he’s so overjoyed but also terrified. Op has never really had a good example of how to be, his sire was emotionally distant and very abusive. Op has vowed to be better then him.. but where do you begin?? He’s probably really struggling to keep his emotions in check. His anxiety gets kind of bad sometimes.

He loves them a lot. So much so he confused where I takes his role in all this. Op is fiercely protective of them, staying up most of the night and if he does sleep he get awoken by the smallest sounds, then can’t go back to bed.

He doesn’t know what to do sometimes and doesn’t want to get anything wrong or hurt them. So for a little bit he’s been just doing whatever Elita asks of him and keeping a distance. Waiting on her hand and foot, she can see he’s distressed and not acting right. Luckily Elita is very patient with him, not only that Ironhide has been a surrogate sire for plenty of sparklings. So he’s going to have plenty of help.

Once he gets past all of his emotions and gets out of his own head. He really takes to it well. Elita finally gets some well deserved breaks. (He’s going to feel stupid for getting all worked up over little things.) Elita wasn’t worried, she knew he’d be fine. Optimus can’t stop himself from purring all day everyday.

When they get older op probably has a better understanding of what to do.

[plooto]

⋆˙✧⋆｡ kinkmas day 3 — lingerie + stockings ｡⋆✧˙⋆

warnings ❆. inter-species ! established ! relationship , reader is scientist , pet names ( doll , little colonel , princess , darlin’ , pumpkin ) , cursing , using the ‘lord’s name in vain’ , daddy kink , marking , size kink , lingerie , stockings , fingering , p i v , soft quaritch , pwp .

now playing : baby it’s cold outside ; idina menzel ft michael dublé

1:23 ────|───── 1:23

volume : ▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▯

you couldn’t ignore how frustrated your nine-foot tall boyfriend has been these past few weeks..his shoulders were more tense than normal and you were sure his boss was doing her favorite thing - talking his ear off. you had the night off tonight, working real hard around the freezing bridgehead city, to give your boyfriend some much needed tlc.

except, that was the last thing on your mind - tender loving care. you wanted to make his troubles wash away, and not with deep muscle back rubs.

you’d been hiding a pretty white lace outfit, one you managed to get your hands on after miles mentioned something about seeing you in something different.

“ y’always talkin’ ‘bout lookin’ pretty, right doll? ” you sat up on his stomach, palms pressing against his chest as you looked at him with his favorite pair of eyes - doe like and sinfully innocent. nodding your head, you waited for his response.

“ o‘course, i prefer you with nothing at all, ” he gives you a smirk, tilting his head as big golden eyes raked down your form, drinking in the sight of you. he taps your thigh gently, “ but, somethin’ sheer, the lacey one that cover yer body, what- what’s that called again- ” you look up to the ceiling, eyebrows pulling together as you thought.

“ lingerie? ” you asked with a tilt of your head. he sucked his teeth, flashing you a devious smile as his mind filled with possibilities.

“ that’s the thing..lingerie. ”

and tonight was the night that you would use it - to make his mind numb. you were nervous as you walked from your room to his, praying to the deity the na’vi believed in that no one would look in your direction to notice your legs donned a prettier set of stockings. with pounding heart and shaky hands, you tugged the lab coat tighter as you tried not to listen to how loud your little mary janes were tapping against the grippy floor tile. as you got closer to his room, you moved a bit faster.

“ hey, little colonel. ” your blood went cold as you froze, you were so close. you slowly turned to see corporal lyle.

“ oh, hi lyle. ” your voice cracked, praying he ignored it and the riding heat to your face. he places his hands on his hips and didn’t bother to kneel down to your height,

“ the colonel isn’t in there yet, ” your eyebrows raised to feign surprise. you knew he wasn’t back yet, you were supposed to be the surprise. pulling your head out of the clouds you shuffled uncomfortably on your feet, partially from friction of the lab coat through the lace, partially from the freezing temperatures of the building. lyle took a heavy breath through his respirator, waiting for your response as if fell against his chest.

“ oh! um.. could you tell him i’ll be in here? i- i need to talk to him..about something.. ” the recom before you nodded, eyebrow raising as he committed your request to memory,

“ sure, i’ll pass along the message. ” you thanked him, waiting for him to leave before pressing your thumb to the keypad, tip toeing to reach it. the hiss from the door mimicked the sigh that left your lips. you slipped inside immediately and waited for the door to close. your shoulders dropped with relief as you looked around the room, walking around to decide where you should wait for him. you looked around, your brain moving thousands of miles an hour trying to come up with a plan that would have him weak at the knees. you didn’t hear the door open, but you did hear the thud of his boots against the ground as they got louder and louder.

“ darlin’? lyle said you wanted to talk t’me. ” you turned your head to him, but not turning fully.

“ w- wait! ” you fumbled out, hearing his footsteps halt immediately, you chewed on your bottom lip, deepening it’s color as you thought. cursing under your breath, you removed the lab coat, letting it fall to the ground. you heard his breath hitch, not knowing what to expect, you screwed your eyes shut.

“ y- fuck, turn around f’me. ” swallowing the rising lump in your throat, you did as you were told, not lifting your head from the imaginary dot on the ground.

“ look at me, princess. ” the masses of butterflies in your stomach took flight, yet you couldn’t bring yourself to look up at him. you heard the taps of his boots on the ground, the next moment, you saw his dark camo of his pants bend in front of you, a warm hand cupping under your chin. miles turned your face to force your eyes to look at his,

“ y’did all this f’me? ” you nod shyly. his ears pin back, a gentle smile, one that was exclusively for your eyes only, spreading across his face. “ turn around, lemme take a look at ya. ” when your eyes widen ever so slightly miles places a kiss to your lips, calming your nerves as if he could smell them. your hands went to his wrists, an attempt to keep him there, the need for him to drink away all your frets in the front of your mind.

as miles pulls away from the kiss, his hands move to your waist, giving you a gentle push backwards so he can take a proper look at you. one hand down at his side, the other rests on his knee as he watches you turn with dilated eyes.

“ slower. ” he stretched the o sound, drawing his bottom lip between his teeth - admiring how the hem and how it sunk into the supple flesh of your ass nicely. he resisted giving your plump cheeks a pinch, but he couldn’t help wrapping his fingers around your waist, pulling you to sit on his raised knee. you yelped, not expecting your feet to leave the ground. miles was excited, eyes burning with lust - a feeling he hasn’t felt since his teen years. a feeling only you could provoke.

“ y’don’t know what y’re doin’ to me darlin- ” the hardness in his pants throbbed as you squirmed in his lap, your arousal seeping through the lacy material and the aroma reaching his nose.

“ do y’like it? ” using his speech pattern you inquired. his smirk grew, miles pulled your wrist in his hand, leading you to feel the bulge in his pants - the problem you created. he watched as your face warmed when you felt how hard he was, how hard you made him.

propping you on his bicep, he slipped out of his shoes, sauntering over to the bed before unceremoniously dropping you on it.

“ oomph! mil- ” he silenced you with a hard kiss to your lips. miles quaritch wasn’t a patient man thoroughly displayed when he tore the bottom half of the pretty lace.

“ i’ll find you new ones. ” he reasoned as he sucked harsh kisses into your neck, textured tongue dancing over the dark splotches. large fingers found their way between your thighs, teasing your slicked entrance. you cursed, fingers finding the elastic of the stocking to pull them off.

“ ah-ah.. ” in a swift motion, your hands were pinned above your head, miles sitting up higher to peer at your pouted lips.

“ so pretty. ” he murmured to himself. your lips parted, dead set on scolding him for teasing you, instead a moan tumbled from them.

he pushed a finger into you, groaning as he felt your warmth invite him. his finger was big, you felt full, yet not nearly as full as you should be.

“ ah! mi- ” you started, whimpering when you felt his finger leave leave your core,

“ y’know better than that w’did i teach you? ” you whined, hips grinding against nothing,

“ daddy please~ ” you pleaded, with a smirk he tugged the lace down off your chest, exposing your chest, nipples growing taut from the cold air. you gasped - you should have known this wasn’t going to make it past this night.

“ good girl. ” he growled, head dipping to latch onto your nipple, two fingers plunging inside you to curl at the spongy spot inside your velvety walls.

“ fuck me- ” you cried, head falling back against the pillow as your back arched into his chest. you clenched around him, the stretch being just enough to force your eyes shut with pleasure. you couldn’t contain the moans that fell from your pretty lips as he thrusts his fingers uncoordinatedly inside you, tongue swirling around your nipple.

miles pushed another finger inside you, lips departing from your nipple to watch your eyes screw shut. fuck his hands were so large- you held familiar heat flood your stomach, not giving you a heads up as you made a mess of his hand.

“ fuck- d- daddy ‘m sorry! ” you tried to reason, feeling his fingers leave you immediately.

“ ‘nd you were doing so good pumpkin. so good. ” he tasked, his left hands holding your wrists releasing you before manhandling you onto your stomach. you couldn’t see what he was doing, but you when you heard the clink of his belt and weight shifting behind you. you turned your head to the side, desperate to catch a glimpse of the pretty appendage he donned.

“ ah fuck- m- daddy! ” you cried as the thick head of his cock breached your entrance, miles’ hips working in inch by thick inch. a growl left him as he watched your lips spread around his cock, eyes narrowing at he white ring you left as he pulled his hips back, the head teasing departure. you wanted to whine, to wiggle - to disobey, but a large hand pushed your shoulders, relishing in the feel of the lace beneath his fingers as he pushed you deeper into the sheets. he sunk inside you fully, your belly bulging with nothing but him.

“ christ fuck yer drippin’. ” your eyes rolled back in your head as a choked moan left our lips, bruised from your feeble attempts to muffle your cries. he set a brutal pace, not giving you a second longer to adjust to his size, not like you wanted to. you fisted at the sheets beneath you, desperate to hold onto something as you tried to form coherent sentences, thoughts.

he knew your brain was fried, your pussy told him so. the way you were sucking him in told it all. so he gave you what you wanted, unhindered, unrestrained, his hips snapped with rough thrusts. you wailed, taping against the bed uncoordinatedly.

“ y’gonna cum princess? ” you nodded - tried to. “ use yer words. ” he slowed his hips only a fraction to allow you room to think, to ask for permission just the way he liked it.

“ close- da- fuck! daddy please! can i? ” you pleaded with him, you weren’t near coherent, he wouldn’t be fucking you right if you were. his other hand gripped your hip, imprinting his hand into your skin.

“ hold it. ” he growled, pulling your hips down to meet his with unwavering force, hips stuttering as he felt his balls grow tight.

“ fuck- now princess. c’mon give it t’me. ” he snarled as your body responded immediately, shaking with white hot pleasure as you reached your peak, pulling your dreamwalker boyfriend down with you. a string of curses left his lips as he emptied himself inside you, his stomach tensing with the force of his orgasm.

“ christ. look at the mess y’made. ” he panted, pulling out slowly as he watched his seed slip out of your abused hole. you shivered as you were filled with emptiness, knees sliding out from under you as your hips flattened against the bed. you didn’t notice miles leave the bed, the memories replaying in your mind as your ass throbbed. he kneeled beside you, lips brushing against your ear as he whispered.

“ now y’can take tha stockings off. ”

tags -> @luvv4j4ybe11

[myreia]

Sketches of Times Lost

ao3 | tumblr tag | my writing

short stories include spoilers from a realm reborn to endwalker. all stories are set in aureia malathar's canon. [❤] = fave entry/fic that I am proud of [g] = general (all audiences), [t] = teen (some language, more difficult themes), [m] = mature (implied sex, sensuality, strong language, and/or violence), [e] = explicit (mature themes, explicit sex scenes)

Week I

— 01. Steer | [G] Ryne x Gaia | 943 words — 02. Horizon | [G] Alisaie x Tesleen | 2298 words [❤] — 03. Tempest | [M] Sadu x Y'shtola | 1489 words — 04. Reticent | [G] Minfilia x Aureia | 964 words — 05. Stamp | [T] Fordola x Aureia | 1945 words [❤] — 06. Halcyon | [E] Igeyorhm x Iphigeneia (Azem) | 5424 words — 07. Morsel | [G] Alisaie x Tesleen | 967 words

Week II

— 08. Collapse [FREE DAY] | [T] Thancred POV | 1561 words — 09. Lend an Ear | [T] Aymeric x Aureia | 1617 words — 10. Stable | [T] Sidurgu x Aureia, Rielle | 2086 words [❤] — 11. Surrogate | [E] Thancred x Hilda | 2306 words [❤] — 12. Quarry | [G] Thancred & Ryne | 1408 words [❤] — 13. Butte | [T] Aureia & Avi'li | 820 words — 14. Telling | [T] Aymeric & Artoirel | 1600 words

Week III

— 15. Replacement [FREE DAY] | [G] Emet-Selch POV | 973 words — 16. Third-rate | [G] Lyse & Fordola | 1864 words [❤] — 17. Sally | [T] Rielle POV | 2200 words [❤] — 18. Hackneyed | [G] Thancred x Aureia | 1868 words — 19. Taken | [G] Thancred x Aureia | 1219 words — 20. Duel | [G] Alisaie & Aureia | 2189 words — 21. Shade | [M] Sidurgu x Aureia | 2015 words [❤]

Week IV

— 22. Threshold [FREE DAY] | [M] Aymeric x Aureia | 1273 words [❤] — 23. On Cloud Nine | [E] Aymeric x Aureia | 2504 words — 24. Bar | [E] Fordola x Aureia | 1522 words [❤] — 25. Perpetuity | [T] Hythlodaeus & Iphigeneia (Azem) | 1589 words — 26. Zip | [G] Thancred POV | 1294 words — 27. Memory | [T] Meteion & Aureia | 2135 words [❤] — 28. Deleterious | [G] Venat & Iphigeneia (Azem) | 1409 words — 29. Evaporate | [E] Thancred x Aureia | 2010 words — 30. Two Heads Are Better Than One | [M] Sidurgu x Aureia | 2795 words

[autumnslance]

FFXIV Write 2024: 23 On Cloud Nine

(730ish words of Shadowbringers and a Good Girl)

The stables in their stone home were very comfortable. The stablehands were friendly, there were plenty of adventurers and their mounts to meet—not always chocobos, but no accounting for taste. Great care was taken with the food and water, and there was no shortage of gysahl greens, krakka, or curiel roots. There were toys of all kinds, and a nice little meadow cleared out and reclaimed from the Gloomy Place’s blasted grounds for playtime.

Snowlight was at least content for the moment.

Some of the Scions would come to visit. The small ladies when they could, though they were Very Important And Busy. But the Bow Lady took Snowlight on rides around the lake, or up into the foothills leading toward the Frozen Place. She would let Snowlight gallop as fast as she could while the Bow Lady practiced firing from Snowlight’s back, and that was a lot of fun! They even tried flying a little when she did it, and Snowlight was very careful to not drop her person’s comrade.

Her person had asked Snowlight to wait patiently and be helpful to her friends. She had called Snowlight a good girl and kissed her beak and promised she wouldn’t be long, but wouldn’t be able to call to Snowlight where she had to go.

Snowlight had kweh’d and cuddled her person, who was worried about her friends, sleeping too still. Especially the Sneaky Man; her person liked him the most. And that was all right; he knew how to give proper scritches and what treats were best, and made her person happy. So Snowlight wanted him to wake up, along with the rest of the sleepers. They were all very nice and friends with Snowlight, too.

Her person had left some time ago, and the days turned to weeks turned to moons. Snowlight would have been more concerned, except for the pixie that visited her dreams, crooning about what a pretty bird she was and that her person was just fine.

It had been awhile since the pixie's last visit, though.

The day was like any other; gloomy aether filling the air and obscuring the sun. The stablehands stumbled in early regardless, yawning and joking, making sure everyone had breakfast and water. They took turns letting out some of the long term residents to muck out their stalls, a few adventurers coming to claim their companions. The small friend with the cat-ear hood came to visit Snowlight. She seemed very tired, and Snowlight wished she would get more rest. But she offered treats, and helped the stablehands lead Snowlight out with some others to the meadow to play. She had to leave after that, but that was fine, Snowlight was busy asserting her dominance at kickball against some sprout adventuring birds.

She had almost won when she stopped still on the field, the other chocobos cheering and fluttering as they scored. But the familiar pressure had suddenly returned, like one’s ears popping during a change in altitude.

She trembled, talons flexing into the dirt. Could it be…?

The whistle called to her, and she kweh’d joyously, using its signal and bit of crystal, joined to her own aether, to teleport.

Snowlight was hardly in the River at all when she popped back into the world, in the shadow of the Tower on the other side of the lake. Her person smiled brightly—and then oofed as Snowlight headbutt her in excitement, wings flapping wildly.

“I missed you, too!” her person laughed, burying her face in Snowlight’s feathery neck. There were strange scents and sensations from her person, indicating Things Had Happened. It was very odd that there was a whiff of the Sneaky Man among the new smells, when Snowlight was certain he still slept in the stone house, but she could figure that out later, what mattered now was that Snowlight’s person had returned!

Not like last time. This person had kept her promise.

“Let’s go, Snowlight. I’ve much to tell the others,” her person said, swinging up onto Snowlight’s back, even without a saddle or bridle. She scritched Snowlight’s neck in just the perfect way.

Snowlight kweh’d an agreement and took off—carefully!—for the stone home on the other shore. Her person hugged onto her back and it was the best thing ever, this was the best day ever.

Her person was home!

[thecreaturecodex]

Xiangliu

Image © deviantArt user YunaXD, accessed at her gallery here

[Sponsored by @coldbloodassassin. The xiangliu appears in Guideways through Mountains and Seas as an individual, Xiangliu, who is the minister of the malevolent water god Gonggong. I did consider making it a native or even extraplanar outsider because of that, but ended up going with aberration to stress its connection to nagas. Not that nagas are very aberrant as far as aberrations go...]

Xiangliu CR 14 NE Aberration This creature is an oversized serpent with nine heads and slime coating its scales. Its heads are disturbingly humanoid, but still bear fangs and forked tongues.

Xianglius are sadistic water serpents that delight in spreading disease and stagnant water. They are native to swampy lands, and fight violently against any attempt to drain such swamps or make them suitable for cultivation. Nearby fields are likely to be subject to their attacks, including flooded crops, summoned clouds of malarial mosquitoes and fouling wells and springs. Xianglius sometimes find allegiances with evil druids, daemons of pestilence and famine, or even gods of water who are hostile to civilization.

A xiangliu rarely hesitates to fight. Their bites are not fully venomous, but carry a foul slime that renders creatures bitten weak and queasy. They can spit jets of water with lethal force, and often split their attacks, biting creatures up close while barraging enemies that are more distant. Fighting a xiangliu is often quite frustrating, as the monsters create moats of mud and water to slow anyone approaching on foot, and can manipulate water to isolate and capsize boats. Wise adventurers approach a xiangliu’s lair from the air.

Despite their nine heads, a xiangliu has only one personality; peevish, cruel and sadistic. They are notorious gluttons; one legend is that they have nine heads in order to eat nine different meals at the same time. A xiangliu grows to about twenty feet long. Their lifespans are measured in centuries.

Xiangliu              CR 14 XP 38,400 NE Large aberration (aquatic) Init +6; Senses all around vision,darkvision 60 ft., Perception +22, scent

Defense AC 29, touch 15, flat-footed 23 (-1 size, +6 Dex, +14 natural) hp 190 (20d8+100) Fort +13, Ref +15, Will +16 DR 10/magic; Immune acid, disease, poison, sickness and nausea effects; SR 25

Offense Speed 30 ft., swim 40 ft. Melee 9 bites +20 (1d6+4 plus sickening slime) Ranged 9 water jets +20 (1d8 bludgeoning plus push) Space 10 ft.; Reach 10 ft. Special Attacks combined arms, mud wave, push (5 ft.) Spell-like Abilities CL 15th, concentration +20 (+24 casting defensively) At will—contagion (DC 18), putrefy food and drink 3/day—control water, insect plague 1/day—plague storm (DC 21), transmute rock to mud

Statistics Str 19, Dex 23, Con 20, Int 18, Wis 19, Cha 20 Base Atk +15; CMB +20; CMD 36 (cannot be tripped) Feats Blind Fight,Combat Casting, Combat Reflexes (B),Deadly Aim, Great Fortitude, Improved Critical (bite), Lightning Reflexes, Point Blank Shot, Precise Shot, Skill Focus (Stealth), Weapon Finesse Skills Acrobatics +22, Climb +20, Heal +18, Intimidate +21, Knowledge (arcana, geography) +18, Knowledge (nature) +20, Perception +22, Sense Motive +17, Spellcraft +20, Stealth +24, Swim +28; Racial Modifiers +2 Perception Languages Aquan, Common, Draconic SQ amphibious, improved swamp stride, multiheaded reflexes

Ecology Environment any swamps and aquatic Organization solitary Treasure standard

Special Abilities Combined Arms (Ex) When using a full attack action, a xiangliu can divide its nine attacks up between bites and water jets. Improved Swamp Stride (Su) A xiangliu can move without penalty through natural or magically manipulated mud, water, or vegetation native to swamp environments. Insect Plague (Sp) When a xiangliu uses its insect plague spell-like ability, it summons mosquito swarms instead of wasp swarms. Mud Wave (Su) As a standard action, a xiangliu can create a burst of mud and water in a twenty foot radius centered on itself. All creatures in the area take 14d6 points of bludgeoning damage and are knocked prone. A DC 25 Reflex save halves the damage and negates the prone effect. The area affected by the mud wave becomes difficult terrain for the next minute. A xiangliu can use this ability three times per day, but must wait 1d4 rounds between uses. The save DC is Charisma based. Multiheaded Reflexes (Ex) A xiangliu gains Combat Reflexes as a bonus feat. It can make as many attacks of opportunity in a round as it has heads. Sickening Slime (Ex) A creature bitten by a xiangliu must succeed a DC 25 Fortitude save or be sickened for 1 round. Failing additional saves increases the duration of the sickened effect by 1 round per save failed. The save DC is Constitution based. Water Jet (Su) A xiangliu can spit water from one of its mouths as a standard action, and up to all nine as a full attack. Treat each water jet as a ranged attack from a projectile weapon with a range increment of 20 feet. Attacks with water jets do not provoke attacks of opportunity. A creature struck by a water jet takes 1d8 points of bludgeoning damage and is exposed to the xiangliu’s push attack.

[tim-shii]

an aunt, a grandpa and a minecraft kid

a/n: finals are done and school is almost finished i can finally krill myself! *break shackles* anyways this is pure word vomit over a poor attempt at found family w the stellaron hunters :hides: AND HELLO :DD

[ work hours ] 

“stop sulking. time is ticking.” kafka’s voice echoes throughout the empty corridor once she felt your presence. her heels clack along the metal floor of the ship, only to stop when a projection appeared in front of her. you groaned at her words. “easy for you to say. i got held up by two trailblazers after leaving wolfie to go here. seriously, what am i? a stellaron hunter or an overpaid teensitter?” kafka lets out an amused sigh at your antics. 

“23:47:15 system time. very punctual, kafka.” a glitchy, robotic voice spoke, in which you rolled your eyes out. “can’t say the same for you, y/n.”

“i don’t answer to a child.” 

“you–”

“enough.” kafka’s voice was stern with a hint of mirth. “y/n, why don’t you.. entertain our guests from the astral express for a little while silverwolf and i look for the stellaron.” 

“i’m only gonna agree because the guy in green is cute.” you turned away with a wave. grinning ear to ear, already anticipating the little dance with the infamous cloud-piercer.

[ babysitting hours ] 

“kill me now.”

“i can’t do that. if i kill you, that means i’ll be left alone with them.” blade shrugs off your complaint, focusing completely on his phone as he answers a message from kafka. you look at him with judgment in your eyes. internally berating him for looking like a very suspicious criminal wearing a black beanie with black tinted glasses that he probably stole from one of the blind mice. 

it's one of the days where you guys don't have any work to do. you planned to just stay in bed and sleep the whole day but a certain gamer brat decided to drag you out of the comforts of your bed and instead make you stand watch over her while she plays a rigged game in an old arcade. seems like your plans are ruined now. clearly.

"but we've been here for nine hours! who even spends nine hours on a claw machine?!" you bang your head in the arcade machine beside him.

"kafka's right. you do sulk a lot." blade hums. 

"shut up, old man."

[ the doc is in ]

"greetings, patients. your beloved doctor has arrived." the trio collectively sigh as you enter the infirmary. 

they just got back from a mission. from what you heard, the mission was a success. however, with what you're seeing now, you'd conclude that the mission was a.. partial success. silverwolf has gashes all over her legs and arms. kafka is laying down, completely fatigued. and blade is bleeding, cuts all over his arms, probably from his own sword. 

"are you guys.. feeling better?" you mused with a light grin. you stifled a laugh when you heard blade groan from the left side of the room. you walked towards silverwolf first and started to patch her up. 

soft sighs and the whirs of the air conditioner were the only thing audible in the room. it was clear that all of them were tired. so as the greatest doctor ever, it is your duty to make sure they'll be able to rest easily and without any pain. 

[ the rich aunt and her favorite child ]

"how does this look?"

"... it looks the same as the last one."

if you think spending nine hours in an arcade with silverwolf is bad, clearly past you hasn't been informed of almost a twelve hour shopping spree with kafka. in general, it doesn't sound bad. i mean, a shopping spree with a very fashionable stellaron hunter? sounds like a dream. yeah, that was what you thought too. until twelve hours has passed and you're still in the coats section. 

"you have bad eyes, we should get that checked." kafka tuts, frowning at you with the coat still on her hold. you gape at her accusation. "it's the same black one. all coats you try on are black. how am i supposed to know the difference?"

"through the material of the coat." she walks away to the cashier, silently urging you to push the cart of coats on her wake.

"i'm not really a fabric person!"

likes and reblogs are appreciated! masterlist

[lilbittymonster]

Day 23: On Cloud Nine

Read on AO3

The dirty panes of the window were just beginning to allow the approaching dawn’s light into the room. The tavern was unusually quiet at this hour, and Aymeric realised he had never actually been here overnight before. The silence was eerie, if serene.

He had slept in fits and starts. Every time he adjusted in bed he was reminded of the pleasant burn at the base of his spine, and all that had transpired in the hours before, and he would be too giddy to sleep all over again. All of his due lethargy seemed to have gone to the man currently curled against his back.

Estinien had slept solidly through the night, only rolling once or twice throughout. It was unusual for him in a most pleasant way, Aymeric thought, not having nightmares disturb his sleep. Even without turning over to face him Aymeric could picture his face in slumber. Jaw slack and brow unfurrowed in relaxation. Peaceful and untroubled.

As if his thoughts had woken him, Estinien stirred behind him, inhaling deeply at his neck and pulling him closer. Another wave of giddiness washed over Aymeric at the fact that, without the excuse of proximity for warmth, Estinien would still want to be near him like this. He gently stroked his thumb along the arm curled across his chest.

“Are you awake?” Aymeric whispered into the morning stillness.

A soft grunt was his answer and he smiled fondly.

“’S it morning?” Estinien asked, voice still rough with sleep.

“Almost. Dawn’s nearly upon us.”

Estinien grunted again and burrowed his face further into the nape of Aymeric’s neck.

“You slept well,” Aymeric commented. “You hardly moved.”

“Watching me sleep, were you?”

“I don’t have to watch if I’m right next to you.”

“Fair enough. And you?”

Aymeric bit his lip. “Not very much.”

“You aren’t hurt, are you?” The change in alertness of Estinien’s voice was instant as he sat up.

Aymeric rolled fully onto his back to look up at him.

“No, nothing like that. I was just too wound up to sleep properly, is all,” he reassured him, brushing back a stray lock of snow white hair.

Estinien’s expression smoothed once more as he relaxed back down into the mattress, fitting himself into the crook of Aymeric’s neck. Fury take him, Aymeric was certain he had died in his sleep and was now reclining in Halone’s halls. He draped his now free arm across Estinien’s back.

“Have you aught planned for the day?” Estinien asked.

“Unfortunately, yes,” Aymeric said regretfully, twirling a lock of hair between his fingers.

“Mm. Pity. Could’ve had a quiet morning in.”

“I suppose we’ll just have to do this again.”

“Aye, seems we must.”

The pair lay in contented quiet as the morning light continued to creep into the room. Other patrons began moving about, the opening and closing of other various doors sounding up and down the hallway. As loathe as Aymeric was to move from his place, he did have promises to keep.

“I should go,” he said. “It’s best that we leave separately, anyways.”

Estinien said nothing, and Aymeric feared he had fallen asleep again, but slowly he released his grip from Aymeric’s chest and allowed him to slip from the bed. Slowly Aymeric stood, wobbling a bit as he walked over to where his trousers had been dropped. As he dressed, he spied Estinien watching him from the bed, his expression a touch smug.

“Proud of yourself, are you?” he teased.

“Quite.”

Aymeric chuckled and finished donning his armour. He hesitated, wondering just how much of a goodbye he was supposed to offer at this stage.

“Are you going to stay here for a while?” he asked instead.

“Seems a waste not to, if the room’s paid for.”

“Indeed. Well. Rest well, Estinien.”

The last thing Aymeric saw as he closed the door behind him was Estinien curling around the pillow he had slept on. Biting the inside of his cheek to staunch the smile he felt trying to sneak its way out, he ignored the knowing stare of Gibrillont as he walked by the bar.

[soulshards]

A master post for however many I manage to do. Hopefully all of them, this year.

Full Tag: #Of histories and mysteries; ffxivwrite 2024

1: STEER • 2: HORIZON • 3: TEMPEST • 4: RETICENT • 5: STAMP 6: HALCYON • 7: MORSEL 8: SPONTANEOUS (FREE DAY) • 9: LEND AN EAR • 10: STABLE 11: SURROGATE • 12: QUARRY • 13: BUTTE 14: TELLING 15: ACHIEVE (FREE DAY) • 16: THIRD-RATE • 17: SALLY • 18: HACKNEYED 19: TAKEN • 20: DUEL • 21: SHADE 22: WARNING (FREE DAY) • 23: ON CLOUD NINE • 24: BAR • 25: PERPETUITY 26: ZIP • 27: MEMORY • 28: DELETERIOUS 29: CRASH (FREE DAY) • 30: TWO HEADS ARE BETTER THAN ONE

All 30 days written for! Total words: 25,385!

[ainyan]

FFXIV Write 2024 - Daily Prompt List

Day 1: Steer (AU: Stars over Western Waters)

Day 2: Horizon (AU: Scions of the Seventh Sea)

Day 3: Tempest (AU: Woven Souls)

Day 4: Reticent (AU: Stars over Western Waters)

Day 5: Stamp (AU: Stars over Western Waters)

Day 6: Halcyon (No Fic)

Day 7: Morsel (No Fic)

Day 8: Free Day - Arrive (AU: Stars over Western Waters)

Day 9: Lend an Ear (AU: Memoir)

Day 10: Stable (AU: Stars over Western Waters)

Day 11: Surrogate (AU: Stars over Western Waters)

Day 12: Quarry (AU: In The Blood)

Day 13: Butte (AU: Stars over Western Waters)

Day 14: Telling (AU: Stars over Western Waters)

Day 15: Free Day - Ruse (AU: Stars over Western Waters)

Day 16: Third-rate (No Fic)

Day 17: Sally (AU: Woven Souls)

Day 18: Hackneyed (No Fic)

Day 19: Taken (AU: Woven Souls)

Day 20: Duel (AU: Woven Souls)

Day 21: Shade (AU: Woven Souls)

Day 22: Free Day - Duel (See Day 20)

Day 23: On Cloud Nine (No Fic)

Day 24: Bar (AU: Woven Souls)

Day 25: Perpetuity (No Fic)

Day 26: Zip (AU: Modern AU)

Day 27: Memory (AU: Woven Souls)

[yzeltia]

FFXIVwrite 2024 Master Post

Total Word Count: 37,168 Longest Story: Devastation/Windmill/Curse @ 3,248 Top Posts of 2024 (Sept 30)Tumblr: Halycon AO3: Telling Top Posts of All FFXIV Writes (Sept 30 2024) Tumblr: Missed the Boat AO3: Nuzzle

*Indicates that the story takes place during that Expansion's timeline but otherwise spoiler free.

Day 1 (Shb): Steer Day 2 (DT): Horizon Day 3 (DT): Tempest Day 4 (DT): Reticent Day 5 (EW): Stamp Day 6: (DT): Halcyon Day 7: (EW): Morsel Day 8: (EW)*: Wedding Vows Day 9: (DT) Lend an Ear Day 10: (EW) Stable Day 11: (DT) Surrogate Day 12: (EW) Quarry Day 13: (EW) Butte Day 14: (EW) Telling Day 15: (EW) Misdirection Day 16: (EW) Third-Rate Day 17: (EW)* Sally Day 18: (EW)* Hackneyed Day 19: (EW) Taken Day 20: (EW)* Duel Day 21: (DT) Shade Day 22: (DT) Convergence Day 23: (DT) On Cloud Nine Day 24: (DT)* Bar Day 25: (EW) Perpetuity Day 26: (EW)* Zip Day 27: (EW)* Memory Day 28: (DT) Deleterious Day 29: (EW)* Devastation/Windmill/Curse Day 30: (DT) Two Heads Are Better Than One

Below is my calendar of blorbos! My goal this year was to not let the blorobs touch to ensure I spread my attention around! Archon symbol is for vignettes. Azem symbol is for my WOL Trio.

[rush-the-stars]

cielo is bullying my brain: day 23

mechanic wolfwood is such a sweetie. sooooo 98 wolfwood coded. you know if you come to him with car issues, ones that other places tried to rip you off with, he'll scold you that you almost fell for it. he'll do it for half price. is that bad for his business- yes. but it's okay, he'll just charge livio extra next time. if you have any small handyman things you need help with, pop in to ask him, wolfwood will happily help. him leaning against the hood of a car or on the counter, just bantering with you and smitten during his lunch break.

we haven't even gotten to his looks, god...GODDDDD. the image of him wiping oil off his hands with a dirty rag, talking to himself about how his hands are always a mess. (don't even get me started on wolfwood talking to himself, i have so many thoughts about it. both sickingly sweet and foul ones.) call me disgusting but sweat stains on his jumpsuit are kinda- it's a little- FINE FINE I'LL LEAVE. I'LL GET OUT. LET ME HAVE FUN.

DAY 23 JKDLSJKFS

OH HES SUCH A SUCKER I CAAAAANT. livio gets so fed up w him!!!! sees you bring your car in and sees wolfwood be the one to hustle over to you. ask you whats going on all sweet. livio is shaking his damn head. everyone is!!! they already know you're gonna get half off. atp they have what they call a 'sweetheart discount' or something just for you.

feel like mechanic wolfwood is weirdly respectful in a way too like livio always asks "why don't you just ask her out already?" and he's like, you think she needs me barking up her tree? i just fix her car. thats inappropriate. but you ask for his number sometime and hes OVER THE MOON! he's on cloud nine!!!

HIS LOOKS..,.,ANON...,.,i fear this may be one of the most stupidly hot versions of him. i just can't get over the idea of him in some of those mechanic jumpers but of course he's got it unzipped to show off his chest. or the top half off to show off his chest and arms. OUGH.

also CRYINNGGG at the sweat stains. unfortunately he looks way too good. unfortunately this is doing something heinous to me.

[sparrowsong-7]

Sparrow's FFXIV Write 2024 Masterpost

Finally compiling all of my fics together into one master list for ease of reading.

Day 1: Steer Day 2: Horizon Day 3: Tempest Day 4: Reticent Day 5: Stamp Day 6: Halcyon Day 7: Morsel Day 9: Lend an Ear Day 10: Stable Day 11: Surrogate Day 12: Quarry Day 13: Butte Day 14: Telling Day 15: Together (Free Day) Day 16: Third-Rate Day 17: Sally Day 18: Hackneyed Day 19: Taken Day 20: Duel Day 21: Shade Day 22: Time (Free Day) Day 23: On Cloud Nine Day 24: Bar Day 25: Perpetuity Day 26: Zip Day 27: Memory Day 28: Deleterious Day 29: Here (Free Day) Day 30: Two Heads Are Better Than One

[kootiepatra]

#FFxivWrite2024 - Day 23: On Cloud Nine

The Crystal Exarch was a patient man. He had grown to be. He had no other choice. 

Yet even still, he felt himself becoming restless. He rocked back and forth on his heels. He drummed his fingers against his staff. He could not pull his eyes away from the towering crystalline mirror before him—even though at present, all that was displayed upon it was a dim, gray circle, flickering in and out of focus. It was a tenuous connection, but it was something.

It had been days since he had finally made contact with the Warrior of Light. 

While of course there was no “day” or “night” as such to judge it by, the Crystal Tower had its own devices for marking the passage of time. And the Exarch had watched every single hour elapse as they happened. He could do naught else.

Lyna was doing a fine job of limiting which visitors were allowed to call upon him, but, of course, some business was too urgent to ignore. With what scant few meetings were unavoidable, he found himself barely present, glancing back at the mirror frequently, probing the rift with his aetheric senses between every exchanged word. When business concluded, he resumed his post, keeping vigilant watch at the nothingness.

Surely, she should have found the beacon by now, yes?

He reminded himself that she would require time. 

Cringing to himself, he considered that she probably even required time to wake up. After his numerous near-misses had summoned her companions, his latest attempt had succeeded in finding her… but only her consciousness. Thank the gods, he had been able to return her to her own body, but he could only guess at what her recovery from such an ordeal might require.

In the moment of that encounter, he had been forced to improvise. He needed to both figure out how to more precisely find her, and to convince her to stop resisting his call. He could not risk bringing her to the First in an incomplete state—what he planned to ask of her would require her whole being. And besides… Norvrandt was running out of time. 

He could not keep failing like this.

He concocted the idea of the beacon mid-conversation with her. While traversing the rift was unimaginably complex, and rife with risk besides, sending something—something small, something inanimate—should be within his means to achieve. It would give him a simple target, one he knew intimately. The beacon would be easy for him to find. And thus, so would anyone who took hold of it.

And if the Warrior of Light went and sought it out, then it would mean she was agreeing to meet him. Something in her will would be reaching out to his. That should be enough to bridge the gap he himself had been unable to surmount thus far. 

But since he had come up with the idea in the very short time he had with her, he could only offer to her the vague concept of “a beacon” and a location. It was up to him, after he had already sent her back, to determine what that should be. After scouring his quarters in the tower for something, anything, that would look like “a beacon” and not “a random Allagan artifact”, he had settled on the medallion of the Ironworks. He figured it would look immediately recognizable, but clearly out of place, hopefully warranting closer inspection.

He could only pray it was obvious enough. 

He glanced at the tower’s internal chronometer again. Another hour had gone by. With the Source’s timeline in near-equivalence to his own, the waiting felt that much more agonizing. He wondered if this was going to work. He wondered how long he could afford to give her before he had to try to summon her again, with the aid of the beacon or without it. He wondered if he had accidentally teleported the blasted thing into a wall.

What would he even do if she…

Hold on a moment.

The image on the mirror flickered. Of course it did; it had been for days. But something seemed different. Distant as it was, the beacon only allowed him the smallest and dimmest glance into the Source, but he thought he saw—was that motion?

He poured all of his concentration into the mirror, straining for anything to tell him more. Had someone found it? Was it who he hoped it was? He heard voices, distant and muffled. He could not make out words. But it struck a bell of recognition from something far, far in his past. Come on, come on…

And then he heard her.

She was there.

He began a quiet, frantic spell, trying to grasp the beacon itself, trying to sense its surroundings more thoroughly. He detected a warmth. Then he detected a presence. Sigils and arcane formulae spun into visibility before him in the Ocular, patterns of light floating in space, describing the beacon’s surrounds. Most of it was an indistinct, muddied mess, too far outside of his recent efforts to clearly register anything legible. But there. Bright and in the center. That was what he had been trying to lock onto through the rift these five years.

“Now… now I have you,” he gasped, as he reached out to that aetheric signature. He grabbed hold of it. A surge of power rushed through him as the magic connected.

Gods, but her will was strong. He tugged, but was unable to pull. He felt her wresting herself away from his grasp—on instinct, he had to assume. She would not have the beacon if she was not willing to answer him. Those muffled voices he had heard all began speaking at once, sounding concerned. 

Talk her through it, G’raha. Help her not to panic.

“Stay with me,” he begged her. “Focus on my voice!”

He had no idea how long this window of opportunity would last. He felt the resistance tentatively relaxing. He had no time to lose. He went straight to the incantation.

Let expanse contract, eon become instant… throw wide the gates, that we may pass!

He cried aloud as he pulled with all of his strength, trying to achieve what he had yet been unable to do: bring an entire person through the unrelenting barrier of the rift.

The interior of the Ocular flashed. A rush of aether.

Then it was quiet.

Panting for breath, he drew the arcane sigils back into the air, and reached out to the Source once more. He found the beacon there… but not the Warrior of Light’s aetheric signature. He dismissed the spell, and began anew, casting his senses into the rift. Please be there, please be… THERE. She was on her way.

“YES!!” he shouted aloud, quite against his better judgment. He briefly thanked the gods that the Crystal Tower walls were so thick. He could scarcely see straight—partly from the exertion, but mostly from the relieved joy. It had worked! After so much waiting, and the sacrifices of so many people, it was happening. He barely knew what to do with himself. He paced eager circles in front of the mirror. He allowed himself another shout of triumph, which echoed around the circular crystal of the Ocular as he shook his fists in the air.

“We have done it, my friends,” he whispered to a generation far in the future and on a different world. “There is hope yet.”

Dear gods. It had worked!

He pulled his cowl low over his face and fought to catch his breath—a difficult task, given how his heart was racing. The thrill of success mingled with a boyish joy for soon being reunited with his long-time hero. He had imagined that starstruck part of him to have long since gone dormant, but no, here it was, giving him butterflies and causing him nearly to forget himself. 

This is not a reunion; it is a first meeting. You are not G’raha Tia; you are the Crystal Exarch. She is not your hero; she is THE hero, the hero of the Source, and that is why you have summoned her. You must stay calm. You must reveal nothing. Pull yourself together.

He exhaled several slow, deep breaths, readied his staff, and assumed the posture of a dignitary. He was grateful that the journey through the rift took some time. It gave him a moment to collect himself. This was good. He was ready. He waited for her to appear before him.

…And waited for her.

…And waited, with increasing concern.

He searched the rift with his magic once more, and did not find her. He reached out to the beacon, and only found that gray nothingness once more. Trying not to panic, he spun around to the mirror and began searching his own plane. THANK THE GODS. There she was, clearly displayed, slowly peeling herself off the ground, looking as if she was shaking off a massive headache—and surrounded entirely by lavender trees.

Oh no.

Still coasting on the adrenaline, the Crystal Exarch spun on his heels, and sprinted for the door.

[myreia]

Sketches of Times Lost

Day 23: On Cloud Nine

a lot can happen in the space of half a bell. a lot. aymeric x wol. heavensward patches. written for ffxivwrite2024. rated: explicit tags: desk sex, clothed sex, hand jobs, vaginal fingering. 2504 words ao3 link

Sunlight drifts through the window and pools across the desk below, a rare break in Ishgard’s usual snowy grey.

Aureia stands on tiptoe and reaches over the desk, straining to reach the line of potted plants standing on the sill. Though parts of them are wilted and others are yellowed and dotted with spots, this current round is the best she has managed so far. It’s been a struggle, nurturing these seedlings in the dark of her tavern room, where they get neither the sun nor the soil they require.

She’s killed so many of them. Maybe this time, they will make it through.

If she can water them. That’s the problem. She took too many clippings, concluding that there was a good chance only one or two would survive. But to her surprise, they have all persisted and now she has more plants than she knows what to do with. They grow in a knot, their vines spilling over the lip of their pots and tangling together. She put most of them on the desk, but the originals—the largest plants—are on the sill, soaking up the sun.

And she can’t reach them. She’s not even short, it’s the damn furniture being built for Elezen proportions.

Cursing under her breath, Aureia plants a knee on the desk and hoists herself up. Ridiculous, perhaps, to be climbing on the furniture…

The door creaks open.

Breath catches in her throat, a chill runs down her spine. She spins around—wobbling on the desk, her plants rattling in their pots—and raises the water can, prepared to throw.

A figure stands in her room. Tall, cloaked, foreboding. And yet their hands are raised in surrender—hands with long, strong fingers that are far too familiar, with a blue ring imprinted with the—

She frowns. “Aymeric?” she asks, lowering the water can. “What are you doing?”

He chuckles and throws back his hood, the movement mussing his hair. It’s floppier than usual now, falling across his forehead in an appealing way, tussled as if she has just run her fingers through it. “I could ask the same of you.”

She makes a face and sits down on the desk, dangling her legs over the edge. If her instincts hadn’t kicked in so quickly, it would have been obvious it was him at first glance. His profile and silhouette are immediately recognizable. The cloak is thick and heavy, but no matter how many furs he piles on, he can’t hide the Borel blue beneath. Even though he isn’t in uniform, the elegant doublet and jerkin are identifiable.

And therein lies the problem. Their budding relationship is not public news yet, but thankfully his staff have kept gossip from spreading. As the Warrior of Light, she has every reason to frequent the Borel Manor. But the Lord Commander visiting the Forgotten Knight, slipping into Cloud Nine on a random day halfway through the week, and heading down the hall to where the Warrior’s room lies?

It is sensational gossip worthy of the next broadsheet.

“I mean to say,” she corrects, watching as he latches the door behind him, “what are you doing here?”  

“To see you.” He turns around, his blue eye sweeping over her. There’s something intent in his gaze, something about the way he lingers on her. He came here with purpose. “Is that so wrong of me, when you have scarce left my thoughts this past fortnight?”

A flush tinges her cheeks and yet she cannot look away. That he has come here, to her unremarkable little room, in an unremarkable inn, at an unremarkable time of day, forgoing his other duties to seek her out and attempting to remain unnoticed…

The thrill of it makes her heart pound.

“Sweet talker,” she says mischievously, setting the watering can down. Her fingers curl around the handle, not quite ready to let go. “Did Gibrillont raise an eyebrow when you came down the stairs or did he fall for that disguise?”

“Gibrillont keeps more secrets than the whole of the High Houses put together.” A smile tugs at the corner of his lips. He takes a step towards her, the floorboards creaking beneath him. “I trust him to keep ours.”

“So he did notice you.”

“Aureia—”

He closes the distance between them and presses a hand to her cheek, kissing her roughly. She gasps sharply, taken aback by his abruptness, yet fascinated by his swiftness. She has often seen him pause, deliberating his next actions carefully, determined to make not just the right choice, but the most informed choice.

Even at his most reckless, he bears the weight of his decisions.

He breaks the kiss and draws back. “I do not have much time,” he murmurs, eyes bright. He brushes hair from her forehead, sweeping it behind her ear. “Half a bell. If that is amenable to you.”

She breathes deeply, her chest moving up and down. “I need…”

He cups her chin, fingertips ghosting across her skin and kisses her again. She groans, her lips parting, open and inviting more. He is warm and rugged and eager, enticed by his own daring. She closes her eyes, her relaxing her grip on the water can as he trails kisses across her jaw and down her throat, nipping gently at the soft skin. 

“I need… gods…”

He chuckles, his voice rumbling against the hollow of her throat, and wraps an arm around her waist, pulling her to the edge of the desk. She gasps, head lolling back as he presses a sucking kiss to her collarbone.

“I need—”

His weight presses against her, sending an enticing ripple rolling down her spine. She locks a leg around him and seizes him by the front of his cloak, pulling him into her until she is bent backwards and he is hunched over, their difference in height making for an awkward angle.

Finally, she lets go of the watering can.

“I need to water my plants,” she hisses and crushes her mouth to his.

He kisses her back, hard and soft and coarse and gentle. His hands are everywhere—in her hair, at her back, at her waist, pulling her tunic free from her trousers. He slips a hand beneath her shirt and skims across her stomach, the heat of his touch making her heart race. The first brush of his fingers across her breast has her trembling.

A muffled moan rumbles in her throat and she deepens the kiss.

He groans against her lips and slips his hand beneath her brassiere, caressing the full weight of her breast. She sighs, desire blooming somewhere in that part of her she so often does not think about—and her grip tightens on his cloak, fingers squeezing reflexively as he sweeps a thumb across her nipple. There is no plan here, no thought, no discussion—a spontaneity she has not felt since their first kiss a fortnight ago, and yet it is more. What has changed, here and now? Perhaps it is the knowledge they have limited time that makes her head spin. Or maybe it is that he sought her out here that makes her weak at the knees. Here, in her rundown little room, in the rundown little inn that sits on the cusp between highborn and lowborn, noble and commoner, ordinary and extraordinary.  

A collision of their two worlds, unexpected and daring and reckless.

They are far from the lavish halls and opulent luxuries of the Borel Manor. Away from the staff, the servants, the food, the wine. Away from the comfort of his bed, the warmth of his hearth, the privacy of his personal quarters. Away from the cultured atmosphere that saturates every aspect of the Pillars. Here, her bed is stuffed with straw, her blankets are worn and ragged, her fireplace spits black smoke when lit. Here, the floor creaks, the windows whistle at night, the ceiling leaks when the snow melts. Here, her door is little more than a thin piece of worn wood, not much of a barrier between her and the hall beyond.

And perhaps here, the caution can be unwound. The recklessness can be embraced. They can be something other than themselves and chase the high of something different, if only for a moment.

Hilda said it some time ago. It’s only a matter of time before everyone—regardless of who or what they are—comes to Cloud Nine to get fucked against a wall until they can’t think straight. After years of feeling nothing in this regard, perhaps she finally understands it.

Laughter bubbles up out of her and she threads her fingers through his hair, urging him for more. He kisses her fervently, hot and open, his tongue slipping into her mouth. Her clothes are askew, her tunic half-open, the cups of her brassiere peeled down. Her skin shivers delightfully from the feel of loose fabric brushing against her breast and the warmth of his hand as coaxes her nipple to an aching peak. He murmurs something, his voice a husky rumble, and runs a hand up her thigh, a question lingering in his touch. The desk wobbles and she spreads her legs in answer, an open request. 

He takes it. Hungrily. Urgently. Eager.

He slips his hand beneath her waistband and into the slick heat pooling between her thighs. Her mind fuzzes, her thoughts turning into heady fog. Her back arches and she breaks the kiss, gasping in breath. She glances up, looking at him through long lashes, and the sensual smile all but stops her heart. He stares at her openly—no flush on his cheeks, no hesitance, only ardent desire. He knows what he wants, and he is certain in it.

Aymeric locks eyes with her and drags a finger through her core in a long, agonizing stoke.

Aureia bites her lower lip, stifling a moan, her hands falling to her sides. She grasps the edge of the desk and meets his gaze, refusing to look away. A smirk tugs at the corner of her lips.

A dare. A challenge. An invitation.

They cannot look away from one another. He pleasures her, his teasing touches feather-light, circling the sensitive nub again and again until her chest is heaving. She grips the desk, her body shuddering with desire, intoxicated by the way his body presses against hers, drawing her closer and closer to release. His strokes come faster now, urging her on, embracing the end.

She cries out, her heart thundering from the enraptured look he gives her as she sails past her peak. Her hand flies out, knocking the watering can off the desk, splashing water across the floor, and she falls forward into his arms. He withdraws his hand and kisses her roughly, fingers raking through her hair, palm pressed to her jaw. She exhales a trembling breath, whimpering from the lingering sensation, and pushes herself off the desk.

When she presses herself against him, she is delighted by what she finds.

He breaks the kiss. “Fifteen minutes,” he rasps, nuzzling her cheek as she unlaces his trousers. “Fifteen minutes—”

“A lot can happen in fifteen minutes,” she growls, releasing his cock. She runs a hand over it, a flutter of enjoyment shooting down her spine as he groans with pleasure. “You’d be surprise how long fifteen minutes can feel.”

She squeezes the tip. He moans, unrestrained and shaking from her touch, and slams a hand against the desk for support. A small noise rumbles in the back of his throat, low and husky and wanting. A moment later, he has her spun around and shoved against the desk, her trousers pulled half down and his palm pressed against her lower stomach. His cock brushes her ass and the heady anticipation rushes back, twice as intense as before.  

She’s trapped securely between him and the desk and it makes her heart flutter.

Aureia squints, blinking in the bright light streaming in through the frosted glass, pleasantly warmed by the sun. Aymeric murmurs something in her ear and presses a kiss to her throat. She gasps, sucking in breath as his teeth nip her skin, and reaches behind her to grip his cock. He moans, low and husky and unbound, trembling as she strokes. She giggles with satisfaction and he holds her tightly against him, a hand squeezing her breast, the other diving between her legs.

He dips a finger within her, cautious, experimental, testing the boundaries.

She breathes. “Yes.” 

And he slips it within her, thrusting deep.

She moans, leaning back into him, at risk of losing her grip on him. A moment, a breath, a sigh—both of them rasping and panting and whimpering with pleasure—and at last they find their rhythm. He hardens in her touch, she melts in his, her body becoming limp and boneless as waves of pleasure rushes over her. If he didn’t hold her, her knees would give out and she would likely fall to the floor.

He buries his head in her neck, kissing along her throat, her jaw, entranced by the way she moves against him. She runs her hand up his shaft, tugging, stroking, finding the places that make him wild. The angle is different, new, intoxicating—as if she has to learn him all over again. And he does not stop kissing her, his kisses growing rougher, wilder, as they push each other closer and closer to the moment of release. She keens as his fingers move within her, the blissful ache making her mind go blank. He drags his other hand down her stomach and presses his fingers to her clit.

“Yes,” she rasps, breathless and ragged. “Yes, that—” 

She cries out, squeezing her eyes shut as her second orgasm courses through her, her body enflamed and trembling. He gasps and kisses her, messy and raw as he comes, spilling in her hand. They stand as one, legs shaking, her pressed against the desk, and him pressed against her, until at last the sensation passes.

Aymeric kisses her forehead. “Five minutes left by my reckoning,” he murmurs. “Thank you.”

And then he sighs and lets her go. She rests a knuckle against her lips, uncertain what to say in the strange moment of liminality as he cleans himself up with a handkerchief. With a shrug, she pulls up her trousers and readjusts her clothes, tucking her tunic back into the waistband. By the time she turns around, he looks as if nothing has occurred between them.

“Three minutes now,” she says. “Best be going.”

He chuckles. “Will I see you tonight?”

“I’ll think about.”

They both know the answer is yes.

Aymeric takes her hand and presses a kiss to it, slow and achingly gentle. With one last look, he winks at her and turns around, pulling up his hood as he unlatches the door and slips through it.

It wasn’t quite a wall, like Hilda said. But a desk will do.