#ff14 fic

[queenofnohr]

(hasnt posted here in 1000 years)

read my fic writing exercises, boy

Title: Window Panes Rating: G Genre: Character Study Characters: Warrior of Light (Odeline), Heavens' Ward Members Summary: A collection of writing exercises/character studies featuring the Heavens' Ward and their first (or close enough to first) impressions of my Auri Ishgardian Warrior of Light, Odeline.

Here's the link!

pwease leave some feedback, i need the serotonin

[laspocelliere]

when you get your soft, italicized, "Oh."

read more of their love story on A03 UQuiz found here If you're seeing this, consider yourself tagged!

The first time she’d kissed him was in a hidden church alcove.

She’d found him before the altar to Halone. Watery winter sunlight filtered blue and indigo around him from the towering stained glass windows. His face was impassive as he faced the Fury, spine straight and eyes steady. His lips spoke no prayers, yet his hand on the hilt of the sword at his waist spoke volumes, muscles undulating against an unspoken strain, twitching against unforgiving steel.

No one else ever seemed to notice his tells. She wasn’t quite sure yet what it meant that she did.

He didn’t look at her when she drew next to him, one hand on her own sword at her side in unconscious mimicry. She crossed herself by rote with her free hand as she regarded the elaborate altar, her fingertips moving lightly from her hip to her opposite shoulder in an ancient pantomime of drawing a weapon. 

“You are determined, then?” His voice was low, and meant for her ears alone, but his eyes remained fixed heavensward, unflinching beneath the cold, unseeing eyes of the Fury above. 

Before she could respond, the door to the church opened somewhere behind them, the sound echoing tenfold through the cavernous space. Docents moved into the cathedral, lighting candles as they went, fighting against the ever-encroaching darkness of Ishgard’s winter afternoons. 

He didn’t flinch at the noise, nor the intrusion, but the distance between them – carefully professional, always professional, perfectly parallel and worlds apart – was immediately charged in the presence of others. There was nothing untoward about the Lord Commander and the Warrior of Light paying their respects to Halone on the eve of potential battle, but it felt like being caught at something nevertheless. 

From the corner of her eye, she saw his gaze drift over to look at her. “Estinien says you’re to leave at dawn.” 

She didn’t need to confirm what he already knew. Instead, she focused on the way she could nearly feel every breath he drew, resonating against her very bones. 

For a long moment, silence stretched between them. 

Then without a word, she turned away. Coloured light shifted across her face as she walked, tracing down her exposed features and sliding away again as she moved, unable to hold onto her. She headed with meaningful purpose towards the shadowed passages off to one side of the basilica, cool, and secretive, and away from prying eyes and ears. The intricate iron gates opened soundlessly for her as she passed through, and she found empty corridors and shrouded alcoves beyond, inaccessible by the general public and forgotten by many of the high priests in favour of the more open and well-lit passages.

She didn’t need to turn her head to know he was following behind her.

The warrior fit her hand against the worn stones of one of the pillars as she stepped into one of those myriad alcoves, hidden from view when she drew to a halt, smoothing her palm against the worn surface like it could steady her. When Aymeric drew up against her shoulder, she could measure the coldness of the stone by comparing it to the warmth filling the space between them. 

“If you have concerns about our plans, Lord Commander, you should speak them now.” She turned around to face him, meeting his eyes with the sort of bravery she’d always been accused of, but never seemed to truly feel was earned. “As you say, we leave at dawn.” 

The sound of her own voice seemed foreign in this shrouded space. It felt tinged by something that beat hard against her chest, and set her fingertips tingling.

He seemed softer, somehow, in the darkness. His title and responsibility fell dimmer on him here, like the endless responsibilities set upon him only shone in the light of Halone.

She wondered if the same rule applied to her. 

She wondered if he could see it too.

“Forgive me.” His own voice had dropped to match her own. Echoes carried in these walls, and their words were for each other alone. He was too close and too far by half; she’d missed when he’d somehow stepped that much closer. 

“I agreed to your strategy, and I am not wont to go back on my word. But…” He paused, and his eyes searched hers with startling clarity. “I would ask you, Warrior of Light, if this is a venture you go on because it is your wish, or because you feel the needs of our city have pressured you so.”

His eyes were a sharper blue in this light. She could attempt to chronicle every shade they caught, and still be unable to describe any of them with enough accuracy to describe how they pierced through to parts of her soul that she hadn’t even realised she still possessed.

“Is there a difference?”

Something fell in his gaze, so quickly that she couldn’t find where the difference lay. There was merely a lingering sense of loss that she couldn’t quite name, but was acutely aware of all the same.

“How can you ask such a thing?” He was closer again, and she matched him in reverse, half a step backwards only to find her back pressed against the cold, unforgiving stone wall behind her. “Your life is not weighed by the duties others ask of you. Your decisions should be for yourself, and your own wellbeing.”

She studied his eyes, searching for what had been lost. Parsing out what she found there instead, with a strange, not altogether unwelcome feeling unfolding in her stomach. Like flower petals unfurling. “And if my wellbeing is tied to that of our quest? What then? This is who I am, Lord Commander.”

“Then I will support you as steadfastly as I always have.” His gaze dropped, and for a long, loaded moment, his eyes held at the slight parting of her lips. 

For a heartbeat, she stopped breathing; if he noticed, he didn’t voice it. 

“But,” he said, nearly a whisper now as his eyes met her once more, “I would ask that you come back.” 

Her heart clenched uncomfortably, but she kept her unwavering gaze on his, forcing down the betrayal of her fluttering heartbeat as she nodded her quiet, resigned acceptance. “For Ishgard.”

Impossibly, she felt his gloved fingertips brush tentatively against the delicate skin of her bare wrist, his gaze unfaltering. She couldn’t breathe. “No. Not for Ishgard.”

Something fell away inside of her with a soft shattering feeling. 

Like breaking glass. Like thawing ice.

She kissed him.

Immediately, her lips on his set right every stolen glance, every wordless expression, and all the weighted space between empty fingertips. Wrapped as he was in cold steel to protect him from the heartless cruelties of the world, his lips were still as warm as she’d suspected, and for the space of a single heartbeat, she pressed to him like the starving woman she was.

Just as quickly, she pulled away, breathless. Warm he might have been, but the ice still packed around her heart recognized the feeble flame it thought it found in return, and the shards stabbed painfully at her chest where they’d fractured apart. She resisted the urge to press the back of her hand to her lips, fleeting and foolish. She didn’t want to see the expression in his eyes, nor acknowledge the consequences of her deepest loneliness set bare. Her throat constricted, dry, and tried to find words to set the situation right.

“Aymeric–”

Only the quick movement of his hand to the back of her head kept her from hitting the wall when he surged forwards. Aymeric pressed his lips to hers with an open surety that betrayed countless imaginings of the exact movement, cradling her head with one hand and wrapping his arm firm around her waist with the other. Her hands flew up to catch in his collar, pulling him close and feeling her fingers brush against the warm skin of his neck she found beneath. He tilted his head to slot their mouths together better, and she was lost, scrambling to press every missed opportunity into this singular moment. Trying to convey without words – words, which always failed her when she needed them most – that if he asked, of course, of course she’d come back to him. Come hell or high water, she was coming back to him.

And the longer he pressed against her in the holy shadows, kissing her breathless, the more she was convinced that every press of his lips was asking her to do just that.

[toomanywols]

Ask and ye shall receive

💗💖

~@fatewalker-phoenix

Aaahhhh thank you!! And great choices, I really like the contrast here >:3c Again I'm going to default to L'yara/Oboro since you didn't send a ship. This follows the rough draft I have written of their confession scene, most of which I'm going to leave out for the sake of keeping this short and sweet, but I'll publish the whole thing… eventually™

I combined both prompts into one fic so while it does start off very soft it does get more spicy toward the end! I did consciously try to keep it not too explicit, however; I think the "hot and heavy" part of the second prompt is the best descriptor. Short and sweet I say, but this ended up being roughly 1100 words.

💗 slow kiss / gentle kiss / inevitable / soft 💖 rough kiss / hot and heavy / making out

"Let there be no more uncertainty, then," L'yara said. She slipped down from the rocky ledge and into the shallow waters of the hot springs, empty save for the two of them. Perched on her knees in front of Oboro, she reached out with one hand, gently cupping his cheek so he held her gaze as she confessed, "Oboro, I have wanted to kiss you for longer than I care to admit. Would you allow me to finally do so?"

The blush that rose to the man's cheeks had little to do with the heat of the water or the steam surrounding them. With a skittish laugh, Oboro replied, "I would never have stopped you."

L'yara leaned forward, using her hand on Oboro's cheek to pull him in until their lips met. The first kiss was timid and brief; both of them testing the waters, a mere press of lips against each other. The angle was wrong, and L'yara lifted herself up to better match his height as she slid in closer, planting her knees on either side of where his calves folded beneath his thighs.

Their lips met again, the better angle allowing for a surer, but still gentle, kiss. Oboro's hands came to rest on L'yara's hips, but she could feel the hesitation in his movements. She rubbed soft lines across his cheek with her thumb, encouraging him, as his lips began to move against hers. She matched his movements gladly, lifting her free hand from the water to wrap around the side of his neck, gently pulling him closer, deeper into the kiss. Oboro exhaled a soft moan against her lips, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her tight against his chest, and L'yara chuckled into the kiss. 

"Sorry," Oboro huffed, pulling back just far enough to rest his forehead against L'yara's. His fingertips dug into her sides, insistent but not painful. "I have wanted this for... so long."

"There’s no need to be sorry," L'yara assured, “for I have as well.” Her thumb caressed his cheek once more, her eyes meeting his gentle gaze. “My life may pull me in many different directions, but if I were to have one wish, it would be that fate always pulls me back to you.” Oboro let out a disbelieving huff of laughter, his hands roaming up L’yara’s back.

“It seems almost ludicrous now,” he murmured, “to have wasted years worrying about the potential hardships which romantic entanglement might bring… only to realize the moment I have you in my arms, that I would brave them all gladly if it meant I could have this with you whensoever I wished.”

L’yara laughed, and Oboro’s smiling lips met her own again. Her arms snaked around his shoulders, one hand combing through the hair at the nape of his neck, encouraging him as he pressed closer. L’yara teasingly licked at his lips, and Oboro chased her tongue with his own, tilting his head to deepen the kiss. L'yara hummed in approval as she gently sucked at his tongue, causing Oboro to moan into her mouth once more. The tip of her tongue swirled around his and then she sucked at it again, a mischievous curl to her lips as she continued to tease him. To her surprise, Oboro retaliated by leveraging his arms around her waist to pull her down onto his lap, sending waves crashing through the water around them. The kiss broke with matching gasps from them both, the thin fabric of their bathing clothes doing little to hide the evidence of how she affected him. 

“I hadn’t intended to get you so riled up,” L’yara teased, settling into his lap and squeezing her legs against his hips for good measure. She pressed a quick kiss to his lips, pulling back with a smirk when he tried to capture her lips once more.

“How could you not?” he asked, pressing forward to chase down another kiss. “I told you earlier, it has not been easy for me to resist your temptations.” 

L’yara leaned back as far as she could with his arms still around her waist, disengaging her own arms from around his neck. Slowly, deliberately, she ran her fingertips over his shoulders, down his chest, her eyes following their movements until she reached his waist, then flicking back up to meet his hungry gaze with her own.

“Then it’s about time you stopped resisting.”

With a deftness that shouldn't have surprised her, Oboro spun them around and bent her back, laying her out across the ledge she'd been seated on earlier. He'd braced one arm across her back and the other hand at the back of her head to prevent her hitting the stone too harshly, and slowly withdrew them to set her down gently. Her legs fell to the sides beneath the rippling waters, giving him plenty of room to press in closer. Leaning his weight on his forearms, now braced against the stone to either side of L'yara's head, and with L'yara's arms wrapping around his neck to pull him in, Oboro captured her lips in another, more heated kiss.

Clawed fingertips scratched at Oboro's back as mouths moved together harshly, tongues entangling, pants of breath escaping their lips wherever they could. There was no more testing, no more teasing - nothing but the tension built up from years of want. L'yara wrapped her legs around Oboro's waist, urging him in closer, moaning into the kiss at the feeling of him against her. Oboro echoed her with a groan, the noise muffled by the urgency with which their lips sought each other out.

A clatter of movement and the sound of voices moderately nearby startled the pair apart; it seemed there were other late-night visitors to the hot springs getting undressed in the changing room at the entrance. L'yara and Oboro righted themselves before any witnesses could come around the corner, casting each other embarrassed glances and shy smiles that didn't match their dilated pupils, flushed cheeks, and swollen lips. They'd been so caught up in each other, they'd both forgotten they were still in public. Given her past experiences with the Sekiseigumi, L'yara doubted they looked kindly upon public indecency.

They exchanged polite yet impersonal nods with their fellow patrons, who thankfully sat a polite and impersonal distance from them, in a spring a few tiers below. As casually as she could manage, L'yara said, "It's getting late. Perhaps we should retire to the inn?" She waggled her eyebrows at him, hoping to make her intentions clear after their years of miscommunication.

"Yes," Oboro agreed, one hand gripping at L'yara's thigh beneath the water. "I do believe that would be best."

[moonymangos]

Fandom: Final Fantasy XIV

Pairing: Aymeric de Borel/Estinien Wyrmblood

Rating: General

Tags: Royal AU, Crush at (multiple) first sight(s), Flirting

Estinien Wyrmblood is bored, Prince Aymeric bothered by expectations. Two different men from different nations, yet by happenstand they meet again and again. And this could be where the story ends, if only one would realize who the other was…

Loosely based on german-tzech fairytale movie "Three Hazelnuts for Cinderella"

[void-bonded]

Chapter 3 of "Living Memory," my emetwol fic, is up on Ao3 now!!

Emet-Selch has ventured to the First to find the champion of the Source, the Warrior of Light. When he finds her, he is shaken by the realization that he recognizes her soul... a soul whose bond to his has persisted even through the sundering and over millennia and lifetimes.

The Warrior of Light finds herself in the strange world of The First, where light threatens to overtake all and she must reluctantly deal with the problem of the Sin Eaters. Meanwhile, she meets a strangely familiar, yet enigmatic, man who serves as a companion and distraction.... despite the protests of Ardbert and her voidsent avatar, Ophelia. Selene will need to decide how to proceed when she finds out his true identity...will she continue to grow closer to him even though he is an Ascian? Or, will they remain enemies despite the inexplicable connection she feels?

You can find it here!! ^_^

[fisherrprince]

dark knight alisaie.png

[blacknovelist]

yonder souls (ffxiv fic)

(a spiritual companion and successor to hot cocoa and worth, though i also firmly believe anything stands alone if you try hard enough. Spoilers for The Vault dungeon in Heavensward (and if you don’t know what i’m talking about, it’s a spoiler))

[ao3]

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Action and inaction, ignorance and knowledge. Everything they did— damned if you do, damned if you don't. How long did it take for decisions to come crashing down on one's head again?

Haurchefant is dead. Dead in their arms, cracked on the ground, and the echo of the gleaming spear that took him lodged in their chest. It could have been them, instead. Shouldn't it have been them?

But they shouldn't think like that— they can't, because all they can see is their friend dying on the ground, one of the only noble stone souls in this entire corrupted city, choking on the remnants of his breath with the relief it was anyone but them. He died relieved those around him were still standing and asked them to smile.

Bastard. Feri'um wants him here to see it.

And now they're burning from the inside out, starkly aware of all the flaws and bitter roots that put them here— if you'd known if you'd noticed soon enough to jump if you weren't so bent on justice and rage charging onward, you fool you fool you fool— and it's stupid, really. To think of the intercessory a lifetime ago that Haurchefant had allowed them to use as home base until Ishgard opened its gates. The fire he claimed to see, eating them alive.

But a servant finds them, curled upon a chaise in the hall where they'd sat hard when their legs would no longer carry them, and hands them a mug. And the hot chocolate within is the thin mix of outer Coerthas rather than the thickened slurry of the city proper, and suddenly all they can think of is that voice telling them half a lifetime ago— there is still a spark left in you.

They pick themself up from the seat and make for the living quarters, and pick up a second full mug of the same cocoa from the kitchen while they're at it. G'avan's armor is spread out across the one table of her room when they enter, shield gleaming in the light, greatsword propped up against the foot of the bed. She takes the mug after a pause, tail twitching, and they can see the shared recognition that unfolds, the grieving ache that comes with.

Feri sinks down and G'avan steps forward, and they can gather each other into their arms. How long since either of them has slowed down? They don't acknowledge the tears that slip free, save to curl closer and half-bury their face in her shoulder, careful not to jab her. Av in turn buries into them, one ear flicking against their horn.

Eventually, eventually they'll return to the world beyond, pick up their weapons and press forward— for Haurchefant, for each other, for all those who died for a lie. These lands aren't the home Feri'um had been seeking, but they're home to those they've taken into heart.

They aren't like G'avan with her unyielding drive, not like Alphinaud and his well-meaning stubbornness. They hadn't left home to change the world, just to find a place in it.

Maybe they can change something, though. Can and will, for them. For the people and places they love and will continue to love despite themself, because their darkness with all its good intent had been wrong— and to push onward despite how the world might treat them, to do what they believe in...

Feri is no knight. But they can try.

[nidstiniens]

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

Who are we?

A brand new Discord community of writers, artists, and readers brought together by a shared enthusiasm for dark and mature themes in FFXIV fanfiction and art. Our goal is to create a judgment-free space to create and discuss this particular brand of both SFW and NSFW content.

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.

What should you know before joining?

↠ The server is 18+ only. Absolutely no exceptions. ↠ All members are expected to be treated with respect and kindness. We have a zero tolerance policy for harassment, hate speech, and discrimination of any kind. ↠ Rules regarding CWs have been put in place, but are not guarantees. By joining, you are assuming the majority of the responsibility for curating your experience. ↠ Precautions to ensure a SFW browsing experience have been taken, but this is ultimately an NSFW heavy server.

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!)

[marzipanladyart]

TADAM! My piece for the Thancred zine you can read for free! \o/ The drawing was done as an illustration for the bestest @sarellathesphinx and her sweet sweet fic you can read here! Please, check it out and give her the biggest amount of love! <333

[nshi-ao3]

The accolades start to grind after a while.

This is meant to be a glimpse of the future artwork for the next main fic chapter, but I really like how it turned out and wanted to share so... early preview of an early preview??

[myreia]

— vi. the last

They stay. They go. Ebbs and flows, as certain as the tide that will take his ship to sea. Their responsibilities take them in different directions. This is the way it has always been, and in truth, they prefer it. Independent to a fault, wanderers in answer to different calls. But the time apart makes the time together all the more sweeter. Goodbye for now does not mean goodbye forever.   Till next we meet.

[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.

[senespera-ffxiv]

Bakooling His Ja Ja's

Okay so this entire thing started when my friend and I started seeing posts about how Bakool Ja Ja would have two Ja Ja’s. And so I was like “hmm I wonder what lizards actually have” and here I am at the bottom of this rabbit hole wondering how I got here

I’m gonna split this into roughly three sections

The sexual anatomy of lizards (as explained by someone who knows about it through wikipedia)

The potential neural circuitry of a two-headed individual’s nads (as explained by someone who refuses to look up case studies that could elaborate on this so this is largely speculative)

The implications of the first two sections on what certain activities with Bakool Ja Ja would be like

//NSFW TEXT AND CARTOONISH IMAGERY BELOW THE CUT

//There's no actual things there, just badly drawn Ja Ja's lol

Section 1: The Sexual Anatomy of Lizards

Our journey starts with a thing called a Hemipenis. Now, when I first looked this up I was also severely confused cuz I was like “what the fuck is a hemipenis, is it like half a penis, like a fucking cylinder that got cut in half or something” well turns out they’re a little bit more fucked up than that

They are essentially inverted dicks that are pushed out by erectile tissue, and lizards will typically have two. They can also be ornamented with shit like spines, it all looks very weird unfortunately they very much do look like dicks on lizards so I’m gonna include one from a rattlesnake instead which just kinda looks like a spiny blob that way tumblr admins don’t kill me

The weirdest part is that the tube through which semen flows is Outside (unlike in the human penis where the urethra should be inside the penis) and is instead called the Sulcus Spermaticus. I can only assume this translates to “cum groove” in Latin.

I should also mention something about the spines cuz there’s multiple theories as to why they’re there. Cuz a spiny dick seems somewhat counterproductive to sex.

Theory #1 is that it’s involved in a lock-and-key mechanism to ensure that no one else that isn’t a lizard of that same species can fuck it. Female lizards have been observed to have cloacas with similar structures to male lizard hemipenes, etc.

Theory #2 is that the spines are there to promote longer and more successful reproduction for males. Make of this information what you will.

There’s also theories as to why there’s two dicks and it has to do with how female lizards can just kinda store semen for later, which does mean that it’s possible that even after fucking a male lizard won’t be able to actually have children. Thus, the two dicks come in for multiple consecutive fuck sessions, that way if one starts running out of juice the other one can sub in while the first one recovers.

Section 2: The Potential Neural Circuitry of a Two-Headed Individual’s Nads

I’m not looking up case studies for this so you’ll get my neurobio undergrad speculative theories on this shit, but there’s two possibilities I can think of for Bakool Ja Ja’s specific situation, and it has to do with how bifurcated his two heads’ nervous systems are.

Their nervous systems are only really differentiated at the neck up (implies that their spinal cords merge at or just below the neck)

Their nervous systems are bifurcated across the entire body (implies that their spinal cords either don’t merge at all or only merge at the very bottom)

As an additional note I should mention that by spinal cord I mean the nerves themselves. Most likely even if their spinal cords didn’t merge, they’d be running in parallel and be shaped in such a way as to resemble a normal spinal cord, just with a gap maybe right down the middle

So there’s a concept in neurology known as a “Dermatome” which is essentially a region of skin that is innervated by sensory neurons from dorsal root of any given spinal nerve (of which the major dermatomes are defined by the spinal nerve they originate from).

Using this concept, we can maybe define the Dermatomes on Bakool Ja Ja similarly, and this is where the organization of his spinal cords matter. If scenario #1 is correct, then his dermatomes will look similar to that of a human. Sensory information is also most likely copied and sent to both heads, meaning that both heads will be able to sense what happens to their entire body

If scenario #2 is correct, however, then we have something slightly more interesting and it’s that each head receives somatosensory information from the contralateral (opposite) side of the body, similar to how the brain’s two halves receive somatosensory information from the rest of the body. Here’s a really low quality diagram from my kinesiology class that shows the ascending pathways for discriminative touch (orange) and pain/temperature/affective touch (brown)

You can see that no matter where specifically they cross over, both pathways do end up crossing over to the other side. Here’s a rough diagram of how this would work out for Bakool Ja Ja that I drew myself with the relevant “dermatomes” (these aren’t actual dermatomes I just highlighted which dick is wired to which head) highlighted

The three testicles were added for sexual effect, I don’t think lizards actually have testicles but I added them to Bakool Ja Ja. For you. Please recognize my sacrifice.

Suffice it to say I’m going with Scenario #2. Not because it’s scientifically accurate or anything (scenario #1 makes more logical sense in like every single universe), but because it has funnier implications. Speaking of implications—

Section 3: The implications of the first two sections on what certain activities with Bakool Ja Ja would be like

This section is going to get NSFW real fast so you have been warned

Using our conclusion from Section #2, we can see that Bakool Ja Ja’s two Ja Ja’s will only send sensory information up to their respective head. This means that if you’re doing anything to one of them, only one head will be feeling anything, meaning that this legendary tweet by @kwehzy is now mandatory so that you don’t accidentally blue ball one of the heads

Also DP or at the very least two consecutive fuck sessions will also be mandatory to avoid blue balling one of them. Unless if that’s your goal in which case more power to you.

However, the entire universe will be working to try and stop you from fucking that two-headed lizard man because his dicks have a decently high chance of being hooked and/or covered in spikes. This has stopped exactly 0 people from trying to fuck lizardmen anyways so I don’t know why I even mentioned this, just try not to break anything.

Given all of the evidence in Section #1, whatever you decide to do with Bakool Ja Ja’s Ja Ja’s will probably end up taking a really fucking long time, so enjoy I guess

That’s it, that’s all the analysis I had. tl;dr Bakooling his Ja Ja’s will be a lengthy and potentially dangerous affair with high potential to accidentally fuck over one of the heads. Have fun.

[naelmasn]

“For various reasons, dear. As you grow older, you will understand that love, for how extraordinary it may be, comes with several hardships as well, sacrifices and rejections. Believe me when I say it, Themis, that with age the world takes on different colors. You shall see it with your own eyes.”

[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.

[kimikoyukiart]

Estimeric skeb-style comm for @sherribonne !

Based on a scene from her fic "The Viscount and I" Available Here