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metize · 4 years ago

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Valentione’s Day Chocolate

Emet-Selch x WoL (AFAB) smut Tags: Valentione's Day ; No Spoilers ; AFAB Warrior of Light ;They/Them Pronouns for Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV) ; Gender-Neutral Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV) ; Fluff and Smut

A/N:Emet smut! Finally posting my FFXIV fics on tumblr. Cuz I want to do headcanons and requests and stuff...... Anyways! This is just fluff and smut. No warnings just pure bastard ascian thirst quenching material.

You were resting in your room in the Pendants, sitting down at the dining table when Emet-Selch waltzed in. You were over trying to get him to leave at this point, the recurring encounters made you more accustomed to his insufferable personality.

"Hey! Stop it, this isn't for you!" You pulled the box of chocolates away from the Ascian, who already held one in his hand.

"Oh, please, you have dozens more on you little pile there, Hero, selfishness is not a good look for you." He said unbothered by your reaction. Emet-Selch gestured towards your stack of heart-shaped boxes, they were gifted to you by the people of the Crystarium all of them very eager to show their appreciation for the Warrior of Darkness.

"This one's different. This one…. It's from the Exarch." You mutter, tracing your fingers along the container.

"And? Is the chocolate any sweeter when it's handed to you by our friendly neighborhood hooded freak?"

"He's not-" you don't know why you feel the urge to defend the Crystal Exarch, but you feel very close to him, his devotion and wisdom are admirable and you felt a growing sense of fondness towards the anonymous Crystarium ruler. "I don't know why I'd even bother explaining these things to you." You shake your head, telling yourself not to waste your breath. "Looking at you Ascians I scarcely believe your kind would understand feelings."

Emet-Selch popped the round bonbon into his mouth before saying. "How cruel, Hero. I will have you know I feel as much as you do." He sighs disappointed "Perhaps even more, I'd argue." He muttered under his breath.

"Well then understand that this box is full of feelings, fondness, appreciation…"

"Strange, those don't translate that well into taste." He mused and crossed his legs "I must say I find your day of courtship is severely lacking. Is this all you do to show you care for another?"

You rolled your eyes "Well excuse us mortals for letting you down yet again." You close the violated box, sealing it back by tying the red ribbon over it. "Here you can have this one if you want candy that badly." You push a random package, pink and sparkly, towards Emet-Selch.

“Oh, Warrior, you shouldn’t have!” he feigned bashfulness and you couldn’t help but let out a chuckle. “I am very flattered, oh look you even wrote me a letter, let me see.” There was indeed a small piece of paper attached to the present, Emet-Selch unfolded the card before reciting “Dear Emet-Selch,” You huff in amusement, curious as to what the Ascian would make up “I pale in comparison to you and your kind, I am so grateful for your selflessness and your assistance during my meaningless quests.” You crossed your arms, not surprised by his antics, but then you weren’t expecting him to continue. “We are sworn enemies and yet I cannot quell the flames burning inside of me whenever I see you. I want nothing more than be ravished by you, every night I touch myself to the thought of y-”

“G-gods! That’s it your Valentione’s candy rights have been revoked.” You grab the box he held in his hands, taking it away from him, your face burning up at his shameless smirk. “Do you have nothing else to do besides teasing me for your own amusement? Just walk into your creepy portal and get a hobby already.” You get up from the table, pretending to be cleaning things up.

“Ah, you’d be surprised at how enjoyable it is to watch you squirm.” But he got up right behind you. “So much passion, Hero. Who would’ve thought you garnered such feelings for me.”

“Pff, you wish. And there is no passion or feelings in that letter, who’s to say I didn’t just want you to fuck me and that’s it.” You turned around to face him. He was way closer than you expected him to be and you stumble backward a bit, yet he steps right back into your personal space.

“If I were to fuck you, Hero, it'd most certainly be with passion, I can assure you." He smiled and reached to caress your hair.

“You’re the worst.” You averted your gaze, embarrassed by the closeness and his gentle touch, yet you didn’t move away. Of course you didn’t, you were attracted to that bastard for some reason and you cursed yourself endlessly for it. “Don’t say shit you don’t mean just to get a reaction out of me.”

He grabbed your face by your chin, his touch now rough, forcing you to look at him. “I’ve told you before, Hero. I do not lie.” His tone is now low and he delights himself seeing you get goosebumps on your skin as he caresses your arm with his free hand. “Though I cannot deny how much I enjoy your reactions.”

It annoyed you how readable you were to him, every part of your body seemed to betray you and clearly show him exactly how much you were affected by his presence. You couldn’t even process the fact he started closing the gap between you until you felt his lips press against yours. You let out a tiny gasp in surprise, parting your lips slightly, he pressed himself closer deepening the kiss and pushing his tongue into your mouth. You started kissing him back and you could feel him smile against your lips, his mouth growing hungrier as he guided you back against the table you were just talking on.

You sat on the table, glad you managed to put away the gifts giving you some space to rest on. Emet nudged himself in between your legs, you spread them wider unconsciously giving him more space, welcoming him closer. “So pliant to my touch, dear hero.” He murmurs, his hands gripping your waist as he starts kissing your neck. “Tell me how much you want it.”

“Please… Touch me…” You plead softly before you can get too self-conscious about sounding needy. You’re instantly rewarded with the feeling of his gloved hand slipping under your top, reaching to play with one of your breasts. His other hand slowly unbuttoning said blouse, while he peppered your revealed skin with kisses. Once your torso was fully exposed you fought the urge to cover yourself as Emet-Selch’s persistent gaze never left your upper body.

“You’ve tempted me for far too long, Warrior of Light…” he spoke more to himself than to you, shaking his head before diving to kiss one of your nipples while his hand tugged at the other. You bit your lips to try and stifle your groans, but Emet tsked at you. “Don’t hide your voice from me, I wish to hear it.” He smiled devilishly. “The more pathetic you sound the happier I get.” To punctuate his phrase he blew on your slickened pink bud, making your breath hitch.

“Y-you really are the worse.” You shook your head, cheeks flushed at the way he played with your body as a practiced musician did with their instrument.

“Maybe so…” He mused, gripping your bottoms to undress you further. “But will I find you dripping for the awful being before you? How come my virtuous hero finds themselves in this predicament? Submissive, pliant, needy, beneath their villain’s touch…” He smirked and kissed his way down your body as your garments were pulled down, leaving you completely bare while the Ascian was fully clothed. The contrast made you shiver with anticipation, his words were going straight to your core, the sheer wrongness of this whole setting was infuriatingly arousing. Emet was on his knees between your legs, you could feel his hot breath on your skin. He looked at you straight in the eyes as he pulled his glove off with his teeth, right before using his now bare fingers to spread your lips open. “Maybe you’re not such a good warrior to your Goddess after all, are you? From here all I see is a depraved, needy little thing.”

“Emet, p-please…�� His touches were fleeting and his mouth left wet kisses on her inner thigh.

“Hm?” He looked up, feigning innocence.

“Please I need you…”

“You are so greedy with your words, pray share them with me. What do you need of me?” His fingers gently rubbed your entrance, you moan still trying to sort your words out while he teased you. He sighed. “What is it, do you want my fingers deep inside your cunt? Want me to spread you open with my fingers and make you come on them?” You nodded profusely at his suggestions and he plunged a digit into your entrance with no warning pulling a gasp from your lips before he kept talking. “You want my mouth on you? Want me to use my tongue to bring you to completion while you whine and try to grind against my mouth?”

“Yes! Gods yes.” With that his lips were on you.

He kissed your pussy still stretching it with his finger, he added a second digit as he started licking and teasing your clit. You couldn’t help but gasp and moan under his ministrations, his hands reached everywhere inside of you and his mouth was absolutely sinful. You softly begged him not to stop, as his fingers curled inside you and his warm tongue circled your sensitive nub. You cried out coming around him, you didn’t even notice you had you hand gripping his hair until you were coming down from the high. You were aching still, you were pretty sure you’d go insane if you didn’t get filled with the Ascian’s cock in the next few minutes.

“M-more…”

“Insatiable little thing, aren’t you?” his usual condescending tone was betrayed by his visible erection. “Want your pretty little cunt filled with my cum? Broken little thing, you are…” Your vision was hazy, you were lost in both the afterglow and the arousal that was building up again inside you. You weren’t watching his movements, all you could focus on was his amber eyes blown out with lust and the filthy words he spoke into your ear, soon enough you felt his tip tease your entrance, rubbing it up and down against your slit.

“Don- Don’t do this… ah… to me.” you were tired of his teasing, it was bordering on cruelty at this point. “Need you inside me…”

That seemed to persuade him enough because he started pressing into your warm entrance at once. His lips went back to kissing yours as he bottomed out inside, the kiss was desperate and passionate, the way his mouth consumed you arousing you further as you felt his dick stretching your walls.

“All the way in…” he announced and kissed your forehead gently, giving you a moment to adjust. You nodded violently giving him permission to move already and he smiled at your eagerness. His thrusts started deep and steady, your moans filling the room each time he hit just the right spot inside of you. “Is this what you need, Hero? You need to be filled, hm? Only I can make you feel complete, my dear warrior.” He pulled your hair and looked into your eyes, as you struggled to keep your eyes open. “I see you. I know what you need and only I can give it to you.”

You cried out for him as his pace quickened, you could feel your second orgasm approaching quickly but you wanted to come to his voice speaking more filthy things to you. He noticed it too, smirking at you before continuing to speak. “Come around my cock, my needy broken little hero. Do it and I’ll give you my cum, I’ll fill you up like you need to be filled. I will ruin you for anyone else.” You moaned and scratched his clothed back as he fucked you through your climax. He didn’t stop pounding you. “That’s it, that’s my good little hero… Fuck…” He groaned feeling you clenching around him, his pace faltering until he came inside you.

The both of you breathe heavily before Emet kissed your forehead. You close your eyes still catching your breath as you hear the familiar ‘snap’ of the Ascians fingers, you open your eyes to find you both in bed.

“Didn’t take you for a cuddler.” you teased him as you felt his arms holding you from behind. “You’ll find I am full of surprises.” You can hear the smirk on his voice, you huffed before nudging closer to him and closing your eyes, sinking into sleep.

You wake up alone, a red box of chocolates placed on your nightstand addressed to “my good little hero”.

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crystalbahamut · 3 years ago

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victory in stages

FFXIV Write Day 10: heady

Summary: You’re used to being liked because you’re useful, but it’s harder to believe someone likes you for…well…you, and you’re not brave enough to ask. Luckily, you have a plan to get around that. A stupid plan, perhaps, but a plan.

Warnings: Shadowbringers spoilers, unspecified/ambiguous WoL, they/them used for WoL, WoL has low self-esteem, such low self-esteem they have to get knocked about the head, literally, mild violence, 2nd person, G’raha Tia/WoL

Words: 3,363

---

Purging the remnants of the Lightwardens from you would have been enough to make you feel weightless but combined with the defeat of Emet-Selch, the fact that you had gone into a fight and come out with no causalities, the fact that G’raha Tia had stood in front of you, hurt but so gloriously awake and alive…

You were so overwhelmed by gratitude, by things going so right for once and so drunk on the heady feeling of absolute victory you had surged forward and grabbed G’raha in your arms and squeezed. He had gasped and hugged back, stammering your name…

…But now, a couple of days removed from it, you’re wondering if you hadn't just…startled him.

“Did you travel back to the Source without telling us?”

You jolt up, taking your chin from your hand and sitting back to face Alisaie and Y’shtola, who look unamused and amused, respectively. “Sorry,” you say. “What were you saying?”

Alisaie rolls her eyes and looks askance at Y’shtola. “It’s probably a good thing we made them sit with their back to the Crystal Tower or we’d never catch their attention again.”

You frown. “What's that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, nothing.” But Y’shtola smiles into her cup as she merely holds it to her lips. “You seem to be very deep in thought, is all. One has to wonder what has caught your mind so thoroughly.” Her smile widens. “Or who.”

You duck your head between your shoulders at the insinuation. “Oh, it’s not…”

“Please, you’ve been asking after the Exarch ever since we got back from the Tempest,” Alisaie says. “Haven’t you gotten tired of his company even a little?”

“I haven’t seen him since we came back.”

Both Y’shtola and Alisaie lose the teasing edge and sit forward. “What?” Alisaie asks in disbelief.

You shrug, very uncomfortable with where this conversation is going. There must still be some sin eaters around somewhere that need killing, right? That seems like more fun than being subjected to Y’shtola’s and Alisaie’s very special brands of tough love. “He’s still the Exarch helping run an entire city, and I’m just…what he needed me for is done. There’s no reason for him to want to see me.”

“Did he say that?!” Alisaie asks and starts to rise.

“Oh I severely doubt it.” Y’shtola grabs Alisaie’s sleeve and pulls her back down into her seat. “You know our friend and their insecurities.”

“Hmf.” Alisaie crosses her arms but looks less murderous, at least. “Honestly, I thought that would all be assuaged by that show of affection in the Tempest. I didn’t know a hug could be so fraught and romantic.”

“I think I just surprised him.” You stare down at your cup. The tea is likely lukewarm but you don’t pour more; you doubt you’ll drink it. “I’ve been meaning to talk to him, to ask him if–…Back when we first explored the Crystal Tower, I thought maybe he might…but then he locked himself away, and that answered that. But before we went to fight Vauthry he said some things that implied maybe he…might feel something for me, but I haven’t asked him about it since, and…”

You look up and jerk back. Alisaie and Y’shtola are both just staring at you. You feel like crawling under a rock for the rest of your miserable life. “It’s stupid, isn’t it?” you say and hide your face in your hands. “Gods; please forget I brought it up.”

“The Exarch spent a hundred years trying to prevent your death,” Alisaie says, speaking slowly. “Nearly sacrificed his own life to do so, calls you things like his ‘inspiration’ with sickening amounts of adoration, looks at you like you hung the stars in the sky, and you don’t think he’s madly in love with you?”

“I don’t know if he likes me romantically.” You duck down into your shoulders again. “Just because other people think I’m a hero that needs to go on living doesn’t mean there’s any deeper attachment to it. Stories can inspire, but at the end of the day they’re just that– stories.” You take a sip of your drink and grimace. It’s not even lukewarm anymore. “Also, the stars thing…technically I did bring back the night.” You put the cup down. “But I was supposed to do that. Now that I’m not useful anymore–”

“Warrior!” one of Lyna’s soldiers says, nearly breathless as she rushes up. “The captain bid me give a message to you.”

“What is it?” you say and stand.

“There’s been sightings of sin eaters accumulating over by Sullen; they seem to be disorganized and frenzied– likely starving and desperate– but there’s a similar issue by the Ostall Imperative that has most of the soldiers occupied; they won’t get to the settlement in time. Please, will you–”

“Understood.” You grab your weapon and relief surges through you– it’s terrible, probably, considering the danger people are in, but at least you can still be considered useful. “I’ll head out to Sullen right away.”

“Wait for me!” Alisaie says, leaping after you and you hear Y’shtola and the soldier talk about grabbing Thancred and the rest of them just before the two of you run off.

---

There is nothing quite like a successful battle, you think as you trudge back into the Crystarium with Alisaie emanating the same sense of relief behind you. Your blood is raging and your mind is clear; you feel like you can fight a primal. Maybe two primals. You feel like–

“Thank goodness you’ve returned safely.”

You stop so suddenly Alisaie bumps into you. She curses but you don’t really listen to what she’s saying. How can you, when G’raha is standing right there, looking so radiantly healthy and smiling at you like he truly is grateful to see you.

“Coming to see us back? I hope you weren’t worried,” you tease, and are rewarded by a slight flush of his cheeks.

Thancred mutters something too low for you to hear and that’s probably for the best, as Alphinaud chokes.

“Yes, well.” G’raha clears his throat and smiles. “‘Tis always a pleasure to see you all return safely.”

“And here I thought I might be special,” you say, with absolutely no acrimony.

Alas, G’raha doesn’t blush, but there is a rather fetching mischievous sheen to his expression when he says, “There was never any doubt of that.”

You swallow hard. Is he flirting? Does he mean it like you want him to? You almost mean to continue– to see how far he’ll let you go– but apparently the healers have been warned of your coming because a few of them come to escort you to Spagyrics, and as you sit for healing and bandaging and whatever else, the adrenaline settles and you start to second-guess everything again.

“You see?” Alisaie says pointedly. “He was waiting for you.”

“He was waiting for all of us,” you say and sigh. “And I was…was I inappropriate? I don’t think so, but…”

“By the Twelve, you can’t be serious,” Thancred groans. “You were so brave not half a bell earlier, I thought you were making real headway.”

“I always feel braver after a battle. It’s…” You try to think about it. “I guess after fighting for my life everything else just seems easier.”

“Would that we could bottle that bravery for you,” Thancred huffs and stands, shifting his shoulder and thanking the healer.

You sigh. “If I had a gil for every time I thought–” Wait a moment. You can’t bottle it…but you can try to manipulate it. All you have to do is talk to G’raha immediately following a fight. And that isn’t a difficult thing to do– leatherworkers need Smilodon skins, Hoptraps breed like crazy…

Alphinaud says your name as if cautious. “What are you thinking?”

“If I’m not brave enough to talk to G’raha normally, I can make myself brave enough to talk to G’raha,” you say and punch your fist.

“Excellent work, Thancred,” Alisaie says sharply.

“Y’shtola is going to kill me,” he groans in reply.

“No; this is a great idea,” you insist, because it is. “I fight things all the time and I’m still alive! This is perfect; it’s just a little adrenaline rush, nothing big.”

“Y’shtola is going to kill you,” Alphinaud sighs and Thancred nearly whimpers.

You are going to prove them all wrong and find out once and for all what G’raha truly thinks of you.

Win-win.

---

So your first fight does…not quite go according to plan. You found a strange looking horse while traveling through Lakeland and tried to get a better look at it, only to be immediately kicked back by hooves and knocked out. At least the sun is still out when you wake up again, but when you try to get up your ribs are definitely badly bruised, if not mildly broken. You use what healing magics you have to patch yourself back up and carry on your way. You try not to be grateful that you can’t find the horse again.

You find a botanist in a spot of trouble and help him by gathering lumber amongst a gaggle of angry triffids. It’s perfect– you get knocked around a little bit but dodging branches and putting down angry trees is surprisingly challenging and gets your blood flowing. And you help someone. A win-win indeed.

You try to clean yourself up just a little bit and head straight for the Ocular, only to be stopped by the guard.

“So sorry, but he’s in a meeting right now; no interruptions,” the man says regretfully.

“Oh, of course!” It makes sense; G’raha is still The Crystal Exarch, leading a city, doing so many important things…

The rush fades quickly and you head back to your room in defeat. G’raha comes by later, looking so sorry when he apologizes for missing you earlier, but you do your best to wave him off.

“It wasn’t that important,” you say and thankfully a yawn overtakes you.

“I’ll not trouble you any longer, then,” he says and steps back, bids you goodnight.

You watch him leave, thinking about calling him back with every step, and yet he turns a corner without a word from you.

You sigh, but it’s only day one. Tomorrow will be better.

---

Tomorrow is not better.

Neither is the day after that.

You are a capable fighter, truly– sometimes you think it’s all you’re truly good for, being thrown at violence like a martially adept doll– but you just keep having problems. Most of them are scheduling conflicts, as G’raha is still an important man and you still have responsibilities of your own, but the healers are proving far too troublesome as they seem to intercept you ninety-percent of the time. You sourly wonder if they have a magic mirror they can watch the world in as you trundle back to your room late one night.

Or perhaps they have informants.

The next day you take a little break. Or so you tell everyone. Y’shtola seems quizzical (you wonder if no one told her about this plan of yours) and your other friends seem relieved. Especially Thancred.

“I’m just doing a little delivery job this morning,” you tell them. “No fighting; since I’m carrying goods I’ll be avoiding confrontation. I’ll be back tonight.”

Sure enough, when you get back from your delivery you spy a healer watching as you come through the main plaza, and when she sees that you’re well she goes back to Spagyrics.

Snitches. Well you’re not so easily foiled– you go back to your room and then use the aetheryte at Fort Jobb to get back to Lakeland proper. The strange horse has been spotted and a few other hunters with Clan Nutsy are keen to take the job. With help, it shouldn’t take you long at all, and G’raha is almost never busy at this time of night. It’s perfect.

---

Up until you get knocked headfirst into a tree. That and the fact that it takes much longer than expected means you all but storm into the Crystarium later than expected, and feeling too foul to see G’raha. Sure, you can fight a primal, but with your mood you’d chew up and spit out a Lightwarden too, which is hardly conducive for a love confession.

But then there’s G’raha, calling your name before you get too far. “I was looking for you earlier; Urianger said you’d gone to your room but–” He jerks back when he sees you and his eyes widen in surprise, and concern, and so much care that your anger fizzles like an overloaded lamp. “What happened?”

“Bad luck,” you say and sigh. “And if I see a healer I might…do something I’ll regret. I’m sorry, G’raha, but maybe we can talk later.”

“Oh no; the blood on your face is worrisome enough, but the way you look makes me think you may have a concussion,” he says. “Pray, if you will not see a healer, would you allow me to care for you?”

There is a right answer, a wrong answer, and an inappropriately desperate answer, and your tongue twists on the latter. G’raha doesn’t wait for you to speak– he grabs your hand and pulls you along behind him, and you become so focused on that (he’s holding your hand) you barely realize what’s going on before you’re in a room in the tower you’ve never seen before, where there’s a bed and a nightstand and…

Maybe you do have a concussion.

“Here,” he says and sits you on the bed. It’s a really nice bed.

“With as much as you do I’m surprised you ever sleep,” you say and feel over the soft top blanket while he prepares something or other for…something or other. Why are you here again? You try to shake your head and gasp in pain. Right. Concussion.

“Easy; no need to cause yourself more pain,” G’raha murmurs and sits next to you. He cleans your face as gently as he can and you try to hide how much you ache regardless. You feel a little clearer, a little more focused, and you try to remain that way. “And I don’t sleep much, but it looks like you’re picking up my bad habits, friend. You’ve been keeping so busy lately,” he says as he bandages the cut on your forehead. “I feel like every time I try to see you you’re out doing something or another.”

“I’m not…doing that much.” You swallow. “I’m just trying to be useful, and, well, fighting is all I’m good for.”

“It’s not all you’re good for.”

“It’s helpful,” you insist. “For me too. I needed to–…to…”

“To?” G’raha repeats and you wonder if maybe the concussion can take you now, because G’raha has always been the same when he gets one little piece of information– he hounds about it. Relentlessly.

You sigh. Heavily. If it gets too hard you’ll clam up, and he’ll be disappointed, and then where will you be. But G’raha says your name, and so you steel yourself to try. “I needed…to be brave,” you say and wince as he dabs at a cut on your hand. “I wanted…I wanted to talk to you.”

He slows his motions and then stops. “My friend,” he says gently; he’s always so gentle and sweet it makes you nearly sick with want. “What would make you so afraid to talk to me? After all we have been through together, surely you can tell me most anything?”

“It might be stupid. Presumptive,” you admit. “And I…I don’t want you to think less of me.”

Gentle fingers touch the bottom of your chin and tilt it up. You stare into crimson that somehow looks so adoring, but does he adore you as a savior…or a person? “My dear friend,” he says. “There is nothing in this world that can make me think less of you.”

Staring at him, you feel your heart pound like it’s going to burst out of your chest and you think– you can’t do this anymore. If you don’t find out you’ll go crazy; you have to know, whether it hurts or not. “G’raha, in Kholusia, before Vauthry– were you talking about me?” you say, trying to speak as fast as you can, before you lose your nerve. “Do you like me? Romantically?”

He stares at you. Dumbfounded.

Like he couldn’t possibly have predicted this.

You swallow a lump of tears and feel shame settle upon you heavier than the world itself. You look down to try and maintain some dignity. “F-forget I said anything; I’m so, so sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, I swear–”

“I thought I was obvious.”

You blink. You lift your head and some of the nausea quells. G’raha is smiling softly at you and wringing the cloth in his hands, even though it’s nearly gone fully dry. “I didn’t want to pressure you,” he says. “You seemed to shy away from me so I thought I would give you some time to figure out your feelings, for mine– mine have always been thus, ever since the first time I saw you again after you cleared the labyrinth and my heart swelled to see you safe.”

“Really? Even then?” you ask.

“Oh, most certainly.” It is adoration in his eyes as he slides his hand over your cheek and you lean into his touch. “How could you sound so disbelieving?”

“I’m just…me. I go where I’m needed and do as I’m told. If anybody else had the blessing they’d be twice the hero,” you say but you can’t help but slide your hand over his. “But you, G’raha, you’re strong and smart and kind and clever and you’ve always been so much more; are you sure you–”

He kisses you so suddenly he has to hold your shoulder to keep you from falling back. But it’s so good, you forget all about trying to talk some sense into him. He pulls back to pant for air and you try to stop the swimming of your head. You are not letting a concussion get in the way of this. “My friend– my love,” he corrects and it’s your heart that swells. “Anyone could have had the blessing and not been a tenth of what you are. If only you could see what I see.”

“I-I can try.” You know it gets tiring for people to have to listen to what you think about yourself sometimes– even your friends have gotten fed up on occasion– and you don’t want to drive him away. If he thinks you’re good enough for him, you can but try to be good enough for him– without getting knocked in the head again, you hope.

“Good,” he says simply and brings your hand to his lips to press a kiss to the back of it. “However we will have to continue this when you no longer have a head injury.”

“It’s not that bad,” you say and try to lean in for at least one more kiss, but you wobble, and the next thing you know G’raha is laying you on the bed.

“I’ll be checking in on you often to make sure that concussion isn’t severe.” He squeezes your hand and smiles. “By morning you’ll take back everything you said, for how much you’ll want to murder me.”

You squeeze his hand and return his smile. “If I didn’t drown you in a puddle in the Shroud, I’m not going to be that cross with you now.”

You fall asleep to his laughter.

---

When morning comes it’s even brighter (in a good way) than it has ever been. You and G’raha have breakfast together, and hold hands, and when G’raha kisses you goodbye as you leave him to get some work done you practically float across the Crystarium to share the good news.

Your friends, touchingly, are very happy for you.

Y’shtola doesn’t even kill Thancred when she finds out what incited the whole thing.

(It’s a near thing though.)

#ffxivwrite #ffxivwrite2021 #ffxivwrite prompt 10: heady #ffxiv fanfic #warrior of light #g'raha tia #wol x g’raha tia #wolexarch #wolgraha #romance #fluff

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mycooldude7723 · 3 months ago

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I’m gonna be honest this ain’t it. Your article basically takes these two complicated and interesting characters and strips them down to how “masculine” and “feminine” they are, all the while cherry picking moments and dialogue to fit your needs. But most importantly, you seem to be ignoring who these characters are, their motivations and goals and why they did what they did.

Let’s start with Fordola.

In your complaints about Fordola in the English localization you pretty much focus entirely on one set of scenes, the ones with Fordola in prison. The first you point out the missing tattoo scene and how it leaves out how she’s fighting as an Ala Mhigan. But this completely ignores her monologue in Specula Imperatorius where she basically says that she’s fighting so that Ala Mhigans can be seen as equal in Garlemald. You claim this means she’s denying being Ala Mhigan, but that’s just blatantly untrue. And her Resonant Scene wasn’t her simping for the WOL, it was her asking “how are you not a broken, miserable person like I am?” You say the removal of her tattoo scene makes her look stupid and less sympathetic, but that’s basically only works if you just, like completely ignore her backstory and everything we know about how Garlemald (especially under Gaius) operates.

Now let’s move on to Yotsuyu.

First and foremost, your assertion that Yotsuyu didn’t get redeemed because of “how much of a woman she is about it” is just completely ridiculous. You can only come to that conclusion if you just ignore everything about Yotsuyu, who she is, her motivations, her goals etc. While it’s true that the actions done to her are were because she is a woman, this is really just missing the forest for the trees. Yotsuyu doesn’t just hate the people who did bad things to her she hates everyone else who just stood by and let it happen. And this isn’t speculation or anything she says this out loud, in game.

If Yotsuyu were a man and was, say, forced into hard labor or servitude, he’d still hate the domans all the same and would be just as cruel to them. This is kinda the point of the Tsuyu plot. No matter which choice you make things don’t go well for her. Let her live as Tsuyu and she lives in a place where everyone hates her for something she can’t remember doing. Let her go back to being Yotsuyu and she’ll just be back to what she did before. While I will concede it could have been written better, the point still stands. It could have been Asahi, her parents, Jifuya, or just the constant hatred and suspicion from the Domans, something would have caused her to snap. To quote the game and Yotsuyu herself again.

And perhaps most importantly, and I cannot stress this enough Yotsuyu did not get a redemption because Yotsuyu did not want a redemption. Redemption is something that must be actively worked for by the person who wants to be redeemed.

Final Thoughts: You’re big issue is that you’ve taken two characters that have similarities and basically said that because the more feminine one did not get the kind of redemption you wanted her to, that the writers are misogynist. But your take completely ignores the fact that beyond these similarities Fordola and Yotsuyu had very different motivations and goals.

Fordola loved Ala Mhigo and wanted to what she thought was best for it. It’s just that her thinking has become corrupted by a childhood of tragedy and Garlean Propogands.

Yotsuyu hated Doma and the Domans for letting her suffer as bystanders and to put it simply, was never going to be like Fordola. Yotsuyu would probably much rather die than so much as lift a finger for Doma or the Domans

I wrote an article comparing fordola and yotsuyu's arcs you should read it❗

#ffxiv #ff14 #yotsuyu goe brutus #ffxiv yotsuyu #fordola rem lupis

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vaniccio · 4 years ago

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sea’s wol challenge — i. crescendo

The celebrations in the Musica Universalis can be heard all throughout the night. The entire Crystarium itself seems to be alive—it’s always had a determined verve to it, a rebellious streak in the face of inevitability and death when compared to the rest of Norvrandt—but the energy coursing through it tonight was different. More hopeful. Less inhibited.

For once, no one was drinking to forget what the future held. At least not when she last strolled through the pub.

“Not going to join them?” Ardbert asks, somewhere in the inn room from her left the moment she steps through the door.

“Maybe another time.”

“Seems strange for the hero of the hour to go missing at a time like this. Or are you not a fan of large celebrations?”

She can feel him move—a silent spectre from the corner of her eye. The lack of footsteps and shuffling of armor was unsettling once; he was not a subtle man by any means.

“It’s not that,” she says, settling against the window ledge. “Though my experiences with large celebrations isn’t that great, either.”

“Can’t hold your liquor?”

That pulls a snort out of her. “Please.”

The single raised eyebrow tells her exactly what he’s thinking. “Do me a favor, then? Enjoy a tankard. For the both of us.”

“You’re strangely determined to have me celebrate,” she notes wryly, but gets up towards the table all the same. A habit she’s picked up—not being able to say no to him.

“And you’re strangely determined not to.”

All of the ale is downstairs. The inn room, however, is stocked with some sort of Norvrandt wine. Ardbert eyes it with distaste the entire time she fiddles with the cork but seems otherwise appeased at the compromise.

The taste sits bitter against her lips with a hint of something sweet—raspberries? Blackberries? Whatever it is, it seems oddly fitting. Her smile thins.

“I’m not keen on celebrating,” she eventually says, swirling the glass and nursing her drink in the silence that follows. “Because I’m not finished yet.”

He crosses his arms. The lack of noise from his armor snags her attention again. No leather rustles. No light clink of metal. The silence of his movements echoes through her head like a broken church bell. “Is there another Lightwarden you’re expecting to fight?”

She forces her gaze to the floor. “No.”

“Another Ascian, then?”

“There’s always another Ascian,” she mumbles, glaring at a tile by his feet. “But no.”

“Then—”

“Ardbert.”

His gaze is piercing as she sits quietly at the table. The celebrations below seem to swell in opposition to her silence—and a crescendo of laughter joined by a sharp popping noise has her thinking someone finally brought out the sparklers.

She wonders if he knows what’s rattling around in her mind. She likes to think that he does, because he’s gotten eerily good at predicting her moods and words the longer she’s stayed on the First. So as he considers her from across the room, she patiently takes another small sip and lets her thoughts spiral. The wine is warm going down her throat and leaves a slight burn that chases off some of the more chilling thoughts.

The battle with Emet-Selch could’ve ended another way. She’s done a good enough job avoiding thinking about those outcomes, avoiding the ‘what-if’s’ and ‘could haves’, but now that there’s finally a quiet moment with no Lightwarden threat or the promise of another Flood...

“That’s not something you should be worrying over right now,” Ardbert finally says. She catches the small sigh as his shoulders slightly drop. “Better to enjoy this victory with your friends. Take a breather. The rest… it’s another fight for another day.”

“Mm.” The rest of the Scions were downstairs mingling, she knows—and Alisaie will probably be knocking down her door in the next few minutes. And really, what they all pulled was nothing short of a miracle.

Still. She’s always been a bit selfish. “Sit with me?”

“Only if you go downstairs and have some proper ale.”

A small smile curves her lips as he remains standing. Stubborn to the last. “You know I’m not actually a fan of it.”

“And that’s a damn tragedy. Have you even tried the sort here?”

She tries to curb her growing smile. “...yes.” It comes out like a question.

He rolls his eyes, then nods his head at the door. “Right. That’s that. Get down there and enjoy a tankard, as I said. I promise it’s better than whatever you’ve got in that glass.”

“Bold words.”

“Bolder tastes, too,” he says with a slight smile. “Now get going. Before your friends come knocking and asking questions.”

She’s still not in the celebratory mood, but he was right that taking a breather was a good idea. They’ll figure out the last bit of this puzzle another day.

#i'm.. not sure what this is but we're shaking off the rust!#i really wanna do the challenge this month #seaswolchallenge #masq writes #astra inclinant #might be a day behind but that's okay #ardbert x wol #the mihren tag

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secret-engima · 5 years ago

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I present, in the Little Nox Dissidia: Little Nox is understandably distressed at being in this place again, as a toddler. Noctis would like to register a complaint, as he carefully balanced a baby LC on his hip, this is not how he wanted to discover a long awaited baby brother. SWORD, big sword, why sword, HELP! Ardyn comes down like the wrath of the Astrals manifest to rescue his nephew(s), & Crystal-o-Vision is how the Citadel discovers they have a few LC extra wandering around.

hgfdhgfd YES. Let’s just- let’s just ignore the usual Little Nox age gap and say that Noctis is 17-ish when Nox is like- 5 for this particular Dissidia blurb. Just for the lols.

-Little Nox is ... AWARE that he knows this place. In a dreamlike sort of way, and he knows it is Not Good that he is here. Let’s pretend, for the sake of Drama™, that Nox shows up with like- Materia’s Champions rather than Spiritus’s this once, and Cloud is honestly a very quiet Die™ when he stumbles on this ACTUAL SMOL CHILD staring out at the desert with a wobbling lip and big eyes.

-Cloud awkwardly hauls the kiddo to Materia’s tower and nearly gets the life scared out of him halfway there when Nox starts throwing a mini-tantrum that involves Armiger (that’s a lot of swords that’s TOO MANY SWORDS-). Luckily for Cloud, Nox is not really a tantrum kind of child so it quickly trails off to miserable sniffling.

-Even so, with that display of magic in mind, when Cloud spots Noctis, who looks so similar to the child Cloud is awkwardly holding and also has the blue sparkle magic, Cloud is all too relieved to speed walk over there and plop Nox into a stunned Noctis’s arms with a gruff, “Found your baby brother outside,” and then speed walk off, leaving Noctis to stare in shock-horror-WHAT at the mini him in his arms who is already relaxing into his grip and tangling young magic with Noctis’s, making it utterly unmistakable that YES. This smol child is, in fact, related to Noctis.

-Someone help him.

-Noctis ends up propping Nox on his hip for a while and getting cooed over by the female champions while someone kindly rigs him a backpack/sling thing out of a cape (WoL is happy to donate his cape to the Baby Cause and all the Champions are an Outrage that there is a CHILD HERE. Not like Onion Knight, who knows a sword and is at least 12, but a FIVE YEAR OLD, Materia is apologetic and confused, because she could have sworn she only summoned old souls that knew combat).

-Ardyn, meanwhile, is a Rampage. He quickly scares the living daylights out of 80% of the crazies under Spiritus’s command and recruits a bemused Sephiroth to the Hunt For Darling Nephew (because Ardyn isn’t optimistic enough to believe Nox is still safe and sound in the hotel room they’d been in moments ago) and even Spiritus is wide-eyed at how Feral this new Champion is.

-Noctis does Not want to go out there and fight things with a newly discovered baby brother on his back, but he also wants to get home asap with said baby brother, so he tentatively leaves the tower with a hovering group of Champions trailing around him (which include Lightning, WoL, Cecil, Y’Shtola, and Cloud Nox-keeps-crying-when-I-leave-his-sight-someone-help-me Strife).

-Naturally, a group of Champions that large gather attention and they get attacked.

-Noctis is doing pretty good holding his own, especially since the other Champions are working hard to keep the enemy AWAY FROM THE SMOL CHILD, when one of the Big Guys (what’s his name- Golbez? Exdeath? WoL’s rival) breaks through the line and goes after Noctis as “the weak link”.

-Noctis can barely start to raise his sword when there’s a shockwave of magic so thick and murderous it sense everyone but him to their knees. There’s a flare of red magic and the snap-crack of a warp and suddenly there’s a Murder Hobo in their midst, tearing apart Spiritus’s champions with bared teeth and blood red magic running down his face in a parody of his old Scourge Face.

-Materia’s Champions can only watch as this new coming shreds the opposition like paper and sends them packing, then stands there breathing lightly with a red armiger spinning dangerously around him.

-The wary silence is broken by Nox leaning as far as he can past Noctis’s shoulder, reaching toward the Murder Hobo with a soft, relieved pulse of magic and a little cry of “Uncle!”

-UNCLE? Noctis thinks frantically as the man turns around and stares with that horrible red mask of magic. A blink and the mask is gone and the man is stalking forward, swords tucked away in armiger as he reaches for Nox with a relieved, “Nephew!”

-What.

-What is going on.

-“Ummmm,” says Noctis, shifting a bit to keep Nox out of the man’s grip. The man just blinks at him, then smiles, “Ah, you must be my OTHER nephew!” He doffs his hat and bows, “Ardyn Izunia, at your service. Now if you don’t mind,” He straightens up with a smile that means Death, “Give me back the nephew I’ve been raising since he was a toddler.”

-Not an idiot, Noctis hands Nox over. He can feel Ardyn’s magic swirling around them anyway, all but screaming protective and loving instincts. This man, for all he’s scary and very dangerous, is no threat to Noctis’s baby brother. He’s also Noctis’s uncle? Apparently? Has to be with that magic and his age.

-Noctis is Very Confused, but kinda relieved to have a Murder Hobo Uncle on his side during this insanity.

-Meanwhile, the Chocobros 1.0 who are watching via crystal-o-vision (XD) are all just- this does not compute. This DOES NOT COMPUTE. That is another SON when Regis is certain he did not HAVE another son (a son that looks just like Noctis at that age, eerily so) and now- now the CHANCELLOR OF NIFLHEIM stands before his sons with magic of his own swirling around them and calls little Nox his NEPHEW. That he’s been RAISING.

-It’s Cor who breaks the silence, Cor who remembers the little blond boy he rescued from a lab and puts the pieces together as best he knows how, leaping to the only conclusion that makes SENSE.

-“He’s a clone.”

-And Regis’s world crashes down around his ears.

-All this time ... all this time he’s had a brother, had FAMILY and now he finds that not only is Niflheim’s chancellor his brother but that Niflheim has taken his son’s blood and MADE A CHILD with it.

-Regis is so furious he can barely breathe.

-The Chocobros 1.0 (plus Titus who is an Internal Die™ when he sees what’s happening) watch the Dissidia adventure with bated breath, watch Ardyn fall into Noctis’s orbit as easily as breathing, DOTING on the enemy prince with a whimsy that spoke of menace but with eyes so soft and calm, with magic that makes Noctis’s shoulders ease without thinking, that all Regis can see is a man who loves his nephews more than anything in the world.

-And they listen, too, as Ardyn tells his story (his cover story, anyway) about running away from the Empire with the little clone boy he found, about how Ardyn himself had been tortured by “Regis’s predecessor” (this only spoken of after a nasty fire spell ruins his shirts and reveals his scars).

-By the time they are all sent back, Noctis showing up in the Citadel and Ardyn and Nox back in their hotel far away, Regis and Co are fully on the warpath and ready to bring the wayward LCs safe home.

#SE asks #anon asks #Secret Engima Rambles #Nox verse #Not How He Wanted To Find Relatives verse #Little Nox verse #dissidia!#this is not how noctis wanted to learn he had relatives

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terresdebrume · 5 years ago

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The Witcher - Favorite Reads Masterpost

So, the previous one was getting really super long and Tumblr refused to save the latest update three times, which I’m taking to mean I’ve reached some kind of length limit. In view of that, and with a poke to @nyliekeo who asked to be tagged, here’s the second volume of my Witcher fic-reading adventures!

(Pretty much all Geraskier, because I’m only a multishipper in the sense that I have many ships across many fandoms.)

Volume 1

Last updated: April 10th, 2020.

Non geraskier fic

Her Current Is Pulling You Closer - TheMarvellousMadMadamMim

Specs: 1 900 words - Teen & Up Audiences - Eist/Calanthe - Swimming, shameless flirting

Summary: After nearly three years of marriage, Eist Tuirseach realizes there are still things to learn about his wife.

Becoming Water - Orockthro

Specs: 3 456 words - Mature - Trans woman!Geralt, curses, happy ending

Summary: When Geralt was a child his mother kissed his forehead, wove flowers in his hair, and let him dance around the campsite they shared with the other druids. He loved dancing, the way his body moved and flowed; he was like water.

And then she left him in the road, spilled water on his feet, and a faint trail of dust where she and the cart were no longer. And a man came and took Geralt and made him into something new.

“Were you short? Waifish? Did those witcher mutagens turn you into, you know, the hulking sexy man that you are? At least they gave you such male perfection, what with the stubble and the jaw and the--”

“Shut up, Jaskier.”

(Or, Geralt is cursed with a female body during their travels. Only it's not so much a curse as a gift she didn't know she so desperately desired until now.)

of cockroaches and men - Potrix

Specs: 1 442 words - Teen & Up Audiences - Yennefer & Jaskier, Getting to know each other, BAMF Jaskier

Summary: As if being stuck waiting for her supplier in this sorry excuse for a town full of narrow-minded, superstitious simpletons isn't already frustrating enough, the first familiar face Yennefer spots when she walks into the grubby tavern is that of her least favourite bard.

Or, alternatively; sometimes you misjudge people, but there's nothing some badassery and booze won't fix.

all cooped up - alittlebitmaybe

Specs: 4 205 words - Mature - Polyamory, Pandemic 2020, Non-explicit sex, instigator Yen

Summary: Geralt's old university roommate, Jaskier, needs a place to ride out the pandemic. Geralt and Yennefer conveniently have a couch and Geralt, inconveniently, has a crush.

Cover it over and write it out - TheArcheologist

Specs: 3 214 words - Mature - Dyslexia, implied child abuse, Dandelion is a noble

Summary: There is something Geralt has noticed, after traveling so long with Jaskier. It is nothing major, nothing world ending or even warranting bringing up, but it is there, nonetheless, a funny little habit he can’t unsee.

“You’re better at this stuff than me, Geralt, you read it.”

Geraskier fics

pride - Besully (Briar_Elwood)

Specs: 737 words - Teen & Up - Trans Jaskier

Summary: Geraskier Week Dealer's Choice

He only manages to get the shirt untucked from the bard’s trousers when Jaskier’s smile disappears, and he scrambles backwards, holding the edges of his shirt down.

Do It Again - thisgirlsays22

Specs: 6 771 words - Explicit - Time Loop

Summary: By the twentieth time Geralt has gone through the loop, he decides to just throw himself off the cliff’s edge after Borch.

He wakes up to his twenty-first attempt.

“Fuck.”

Interlude; The End of All Things - TabbyCat33098

Specs: 3 496 words - General Audiences - Growing Old Together

Summary: Geralt realizes Jaskier is growing old and tries his best to return the rest of Jaskier's life to him. If only Jaskier would cooperate and take it.

How much longer will Jaskier be content with weathering the elements and contending with the uncertainty of mercenary work? How long until Jaskier realizes that in devoting himself to crafting a legacy for Geralt, he has forgotten to create a legacy of his own?

After all, he does not have a wife or children, for their nomadic lifestyle is conducive to neither. He has no home to return to between stints with Geralt, whether a sprawling mansion vaunting his wealth or a comfortable cottage replete with souvenirs from his varied exploits. How many experiences has Jaskier sacrificed because some contract or irate nobleman drew them elsewhere? How many untouched fields of snow has Jaskier never seen; how many harvests at Novigrad has he yearned to celebrate from halfway across the Continent—

“You’re staring,” Jaskier points out.

“You wanted to go to the Kovirian coast,” Geralt responds.

a tapestry of scars - splendidlyimperfect

Specs: 7 688 words - Mature - Modern AU, Birpolar disorder, self harm, references to previous suicide attempt and car accident.

Summary: Jaskier comes into Geralt's life on a sunny afternoon in May - wide smiles and baby blue eyes; breathtaking stories and half-written song lyrics. He's mesmerizing and full of life, and Geralt can't look away. But sunshine doesn't last forever, and when Jaskier disappears, Geralt learns that beautiful things have dark and broken pieces, and even damaged people can help fix them.

Summer Mornings - The UnamazingTrashKing

Specs: 3 241 words - Mature - Fluff

Summary: Geralt and Jaskier are sort of a couple. They definitely wake up together and talk about spending the rest of their lives together.

An Incomplete Happiness - BlossomsintheMist

Specs: 22 497 words - Mature - Serious injuries, injuries recovery, unresolved sexual tension, unresolved romantic tension

Summary: Jaskier is traveling with Geralt when a hunt goes badly wrong and Geralt ends up injured. Geralt soon realizes that the bard can take care of Geralt better than he'd realized, in his own way.

Hide Behind The Mound of Dead Bards - Bones (Doctorbones)

Specs: 17 296 words - Explicit - Temporary character death, Graphic depiction of violence

Summary: Jaskier is really bad at two things: shutting up and staying dead. Luckily, he can do both at the same time...for a while.

faith in transience - unconscious

Specs: 12 532 words - Explicit - Monster of the week, Service top Jaskier, attempted mind control.

Summary: “I learn stuff about you to enrich my songs, thanks very much.” Geralt starts.

“Like what?”

Jaskier strums a chord. “Plenty of things. You always ask the contractor if they want the head or not instead of just showing up with it, because you don’t want to shock people. You eat normal amounts of food when eating in public, instead of your usual awe-inducing giant amount. You sleep more when you’re hurt, but that’s the only way I’d ever know. You’re a bit weird about your potions and you count them a lot.” He glances up and grins. “Shall I continue?”

A handful of contracts go sideways. Recovering is easier with Jaskier there.

when midnight breaks their sleep - SummerFrost

Specs: 16 736 words - Mature - Modern setting, polyamory, polyamory negociation

Summary: The first Snapchat that anyone ever sends Geralt is a picture of his own irritated face.

shrike_princess: can u believe this dumbass finally got a snapchat bc a cute boy asked him nicely

"It wasn't even that nicely," Geralt says flatly.

AKA: The one where Geralt is a bartender and Jaskier sings karaoke.

he, who i love - kinneyb

Specs: 1 279 words - Teen & Up Audiences - Established relationship

Summary: Jaskier looked forward to these nights the most; he was playing in a rundown tavern in a small town near the coast, coins gathered at his feet, knowing that at any moment Geralt would come bursting through the door.

He spun on his heels, strumming his lute with nimble fingers, the mark of a practiced player.

Jaskier had thought he’d reached his peak when he was younger. He had been proven wrong, of course, practice truly did make perfect. He was getting more attention than ever, and only half of it probably had to do with his new songs, all depicting the Witcher’s love story with a bard of the human variety.

He never directly mentioned himself, but the people had made the connection fairly easily, anyway.

Near the Coast - IantoPace

Specs: 2 164 words - Teen & Up Audiences - Dresses

Summary: Geralt finds out some of the feminine things Jaskier likes. This is inspired by the images of Joey Batey & Madeleine Hyland in the woods wearing each other's clothes.

Shoot First, Ask Questions Later - Ladivviniatravestia

Specs: 3 427 words - Teen & Up Audiences - Defining the relationship

Summary: Geralt and Jaskier fuck, then try to define their relationship. Too bad Geralt has no idea what he really wants and Jaskier has been hiding something.

parry, riposte - plutoandpersephone

Specs: 5 230 words - Explicit - Established relationship, competence kink, power dynamics

Summary: "How about it?"

Geralt looks at Jaskier like he’s just started to speak in some long lost, foreign tongue.

"You want to take me on in the sword ring?"

Jaskier challenges Geralt to a bout in the fencing ring. They both get more than they bargained for.

The Coast - NinjaSniperKitty

Specs: 1 856 words - General Audiences - Established relationship, overly protective boyfriend!Geralt

Summary: Geralt takes Jaskier up on his offer to get away and go to the coast for a while. While Geralt sees danger hiding everywhere along the coast, Jaskier hasn't been to the sea in years and only sees a good time!

Sweet, Silky, Soft, and Shiny - Girl_in_Red_Crossing

Specs: 3 251 words - Mature - Inappropriate use of candy

Summary: Just a couple of bros, sucking on sweet things... sharing silky things... lying in soft beds together... (kissing)...

The Witcher Wolf 2: Geralt’s POV - im_fairly_witty.

Specs: 15 338 words - Teen & Up Audiences - Animal transformation

Summary: It's been two weeks since Geralt drove Jaskier away from him on that mountain top and Geralt's been doing his best not to think about it by accepting every contract he comes across. But when a job goes badly he find himself cursed into the form of an injured wolf and is then saved by none other than Jaskier himself, who has no idea that the animal he's taken under his wing is his own witcher. Geralt must now try to alert Jaskier to his real situation and adjust to his new life traveling with the bard, learning several hard but very much needed lessons along the way.

Shadowplay - sospes

Specs: 26 539 words - Mature - BAMF!Jaskier, Espionnage

Summary: Geralt returns to Oxenfurt on a bright May morning to find flowers laid outside Jaskier's rooms and a fresh grave in the cemetery.

Except, as Geralt is about to learn, in Jaskier's world things are never quite what they seem.

An Old Man’s Tale - NotebooksandLaptops

Specs: 1 448 words - General Audiences - External POV, Old age

Summary: At the edge of the village, in a house surrounded by wild-flowers and weeds - re-built from its former crumbling foundations – there lived the Old Man. He’d earnt the rights for the capital O, capital M off of the rest of the villagers barely a week after he’d moved into their humble world. For he had not grown up here, like everyone else did. Yet he settled and settled as if he had always been there. He wandered the cliffsides, the beaches, the streets. He strung shells together and gifted them to the ladies of the village with a wink that betrayed the charming young man he once must have been. He bought the little ceramic pots Alicja sold on the market, and he filled them with weeds as if the weeds were flowers worth showcasing. And – most importantly – he sang.

-///-

Or, Jaskier settles in a costal village towards the end of his life.

For The Joy Of It - vvitchering (Witchering)

Specs: 848 words - Teen & Up Audiences - self esteem issues, body image

Summary: After spending years on The Path together, Jaskier and Geralt finally settle down. Jaskier notices one day that his new sedentary lifestyle has changed him in ways he fears Geralt won't accept.

The Silence Between Heartbeats - anarchycox

Specs: 7 969 words - Teen & Up Audiences - Jskier knows Geralt better than anyone

Summary: Geralt faced off with a sorceress, only instead of her magic killing him, it stole his voice. But this should be an easy fix, he knew many women who could heal this. But that would mean anyone noticing something wrong. He knew he was quiet, but seriously, did no one wonder why he wasn't saying a single thing? Months he traveled silent, no one noticing and it was driving him mad.

Until he runs into Jaskier, who notices immediately that something is wrong.Because of course it is Jaskier.

Who else in the end would it be, who properly saw the White Wolf?

tailored - jeannie_tangerine

Specs: 4 874 words - Explicit - Geralt has a kink and Jaskier is absolutely into it.

Summary: in which Jaskier finds out that Geralt has a kink and is more than glad to indulge it.

oh darling please be mine - kickassfu

Specs: 749 words - General Audiences - Introspective, fluff

Summary: Geralt’s head turns to him just as he’s jumping into his arms. Obviously, he catches Jaskier, in his very strong, very big arms. Still probably processing what’s happening, Geralt’s body is tense, unmoving. Jaskier doesn’t care.

New Monsters Stories - Kathkin

Specs: 20 209 words - Explicit - Urban fantasy, mutual pining

Summary: “So do you have a name?”

“Yeah.” The man who had saved his life less than an hour ago – the white-haired, absurdly buff, weirdly sexy man Jaskier might have called taciturn if he was feeling charitable and surly if he was feeling less so – dug into his second burger.

Jaskier waited. “Are… you going to tell me what it is?”

The man paused mid-bite, and looked at him reproachfully as if to say how dare you. How dare you interrupt me. Can’t you see I’m enjoying my cheeseburger. Can’t you see this cheeseburger is the most important thing in my life right at the moment. He swallowed, and said, “Geralt.”

It turns out almost getting eaten by a werewolf can make your whole life go careening off in a new, terrifying, wondrous, artistically flourishing direction. Who knew?

Professor Pankratz - martistarfighter

Specs: 1 147 words - Teen & Up Audiences - Established relationship

Sumary: “Come teach my class with me tomorrow.” He whispers in the witcher’s ear. He’s sporting a neatly trimmed beard these days, and it tickles Geralt’s neck in the most tempting way.

Geralt chuckles dryly, but the lack of an immediate quip tells him that Jaskier is serious. It’s a little scary how often they can read their minds by now.

“Don’t think so. You’re the teacher, Jask. I’ve got nothing to tell them.”

“But you’re the reason I’m still alive and teaching in the first place. Besides, you can just sit there, look pretty and answer some questions. My students have heard a lot about you, they’ll adore you.”

As someone pointed out, there's too much 'witcher watching out for his idiot' and not enough 'the witcher is a himbo who loves his college educated bard husband, who is qualified to teach' content out there. So I'm fixing it with a self-indulgent ficlet!

and i plan to be forgotten when i’m gone (yes, i’ll be leaving in the fall) - Stockholm_Syndrome

Specs: 18 083 words - Mature - Discussion of assisted suicide, discussion of suicide, depression, curse, no MCD

Summary: “That was more emotional than I expected.” He finally said “I didn’t think I’d have time to share this with you, and I.” Jaskier interrupted himself, as if unsure if he should continue. “I suppose I didn’t think it would upset you so.”

“Jaskier” Geralt growled, not able to express how ludicrous that idea was.

“Yes, I suppose I was wrong there.” Jaskier replied with a helpless shrug.

---- Or, Jaskier is cursed to turn into a monster. He doesn't think this is important information to mention.

Chopsticks - thisgirlsays22

Specs: 12 175 words - Explicit - Piano teacher!Jaskier, friends to lovers, modern setting

Summary: “Yennefer sent me a check for eight lessons for you,” Jaskier said the following weekend, wearing a beige button-down with--

“Does your shirt have owls on it?” Geralt asked, caught somewhere between amusement and horror.

Jaskier looked down and tugged on the front of his shirt as if he had to remind himself what was on it. He beamed at Geralt. “Yeah! Do you like it?”

“Not particularly.”

The smile swiftly disappeared.

“It’s not terrible,” he amended, stepping back to let Jaskier inside the apartment. Then Jaskier’s initial words sank in. “Wait. Yen did what?”

Hanging up on Yennefer was always a mistake.

what’s in a (pet) name? - janie_tangerine

Specs: 1 415 words - Teen & Up Audiences - Fluff, pet names

Summary: "So," he clears his throat one evening, having just rinsed Geralt's now clean, soft white hair, and damn how he wishes the man would just take care of it somewhat decently, "I was wondering."

"What?" Geralt says after he doesn't go on for a bit. It didn't sound particularly annoyed. Right on.

"This is a very broad question, but I was just curious, no need to answer if you don't want to -" Jaskier starts, having learned that giving the man a way out is always a good bet.

"Just get on with it, won't you?"

Jaskier clears his throat, leans down, puts his elbows on the rim of the tub. "How do you feel about pet names?"

Or: in which Jaskier has a question for Geralt. It doesn't get answered the way he had assumed.

As Long As You Were Mine For A Little While - whisperedstories

Specs: 12 815 words - Explicit - Friends with benefits, mutual pining

Summary: It starts with Jaskier offering a helping hand when Geralt needs to let off some steam. The thing is, Jaskier likes taking care of Geralt—however he can—and Geralt lets him, so he just keeps doing it.

And as long as they never talk about how he's in love with Geralt, they're both happy with the arrangement, right? Right.

Of Debt and Debtors - sp_oops

Specs: 5 136 words - Explicit - Semi-public sex

Summary: Two bros, chillin' in a ta-vern, five feet apart ‘cause they—fuck, they really missed each other, not that Geralt will ever admit it—and anyway, in a minute here, they're gonna have to get closer than they ever thought possible. (Or, sometime after Episode 6, they meet again, Jaskier’s in trouble again, and Geralt saves them. Again.)

This One I Shall Choose - DorkMagician

Specs: 3 751 words - Teen & Up Audiences - Quiet pining, the exact moment Geralt falls in love

Summary: Geralt falls in the river fishing for a djinn and winds up soaked. Jaskier sees the opportunity to do as his mother told him a long time ago and takes the first step when he offers Geralt his handkerchief.

Skin Deep - Sospes

Specs: 8 935 words- Teen & Up Audiences - Fluff, getting together, non consensual tattooing, implied/referenced rape, implied/referenced childhood abuse

Summary: “What’s that?” Geralt asks.

Jaskier blinks. “It’s a tattoo,” he says. “Have you never seen a tattoo before, Geralt?”

Geralt fights the urge to roll his eyes. “I know it’s a tattoo,” he says. “What’s it a tattoo of?”

They say there are 5 ways to show your love (and I don’t know any of them) - Mayathelittlebee

Specs: 5 989 words - Teen & Up Audiences - Fluff, humor

Summary: May be if Geralt stopped being so dramatic for a moment he'd finally realize that loving Jaskier is not as hard as he thinks.

I don’t mind if I’m with you - janie_tangerine

Specs: 11 152 words - Explicit - In which Jaskier has to quelle his murder instincts concerning how much Geralt’s life sucks

Summary: or: five times plus one in which Jaskier finds out that Geralt is missing on good life experiences and promptly sees to fix it.

Fill Me Up - Mysticmajestic

Specs: 402 words - Teen & Up Audiences - Romance

Summary: Geralt only knows how to give, and give, until he's empty. What is he to do with Jaskier, who only wants to give back to him?

Little Things - QueenForADay

Specs: 3 315 words - General Audiences - Domestic fluff, Ciri ships it

Summary: In the first few months of knowing the Witcher, he experienced first-hand how shut-off Geralt could be with the world around him and those within it.

At some point, and he can’t pinpoint where, that shroud started to slip away. He saw how much Geralt could, and does, actually care. It’s as fierce as the way he fights.

They spend a great deal of time watching each other; when they finally fell into a bed together, they spent most of their nights learning what the other liked, mapping the plains of skin and muscle underneath the other.

But it’s the other things, the little things, that Jaskier thinks about the most.

O, Empathy - almostnectarine

Specs: 32 624 words - Mature - Body swap, friends to lovers, questfic

Summary: “How did you manage,” asked Geralt, with infinite patience and only a desire to know the facts, and not at all a little meanhearted glee, “to insult a sorcerer while his tongue was down your throat?”

“Don’t make me recount the entire sordid affair, Geralt,” said Jaskier, with a surprising note of desperation breaking through his gruff monotone. “I’m already having a rather shit day and all I’ve done so far is wake up.”

“In my body,” said Geralt.

“Yes,” said Jaskier, with the insolent cadence that was unmistakably Jaskier’s, but in Geralt’s voice, emerging from Geralt’s face and frame.

“And I’ve got yours,” said Geralt, from Jaskier’s.

and for that love to be with men - sebviathan

Specs: 6 734 words -Mature - Emotional constipation, self discovery, self acceptance, geralt is a whole ass gay man who doesn’t know what being gay is

Summary: Something's not right about what I'm doing but I'm still doing it—living in the worst parts, ruining myself. My inner life is a sheet of black glass. If I fell through the floor I would keep falling.

The enormity of Geralt's desire disgusts him.

at last, at last, at last, oh I thought you’d never ask - elegantwings

Specs: 15 040 words - Explicit - Arranged marriage, slow burn, trans!Jaskier, in this house we love Yennefer of Vengerberg

Summary: Geralt is given firm instructions from Vesemir: He is to get married to a Redanian noblewoman in the hopes of improving relations between witchers and the rest of the world. Once the ceremony is over, he plans to drop his new spouse off at their new home and carry on with his life as he always has. Little does he know, his future wife is not a woman, and not so easily left behind. He's not really sure he'd like to get rid of Jaskier, either. Over the next several years, they learn to navigate their new relationship, first while Jaskier completes his degree, and then when Jaskier insists on accompanying him on the road. And no matter what anyone else has to say about it, Geralt is absolutely not in love with his husband.

it’s what my heart just yearns to say - chasing_the_sterek

Specs: 1 071 words - Teen & Up - Slice of life, Jaskier: what if I found a way to make Geralt admit when he needs things

Summary: "If you could have one blessing," Jaskier says, eyes lit green by the fire between them, "What would it be?"

Geralt looks at him. The whetstone is smooth and friction-warm in his palm, edges rounded from use. It's been with him for a long time: almost four years.

Jaskier has been with him for even longer, but he's never done this. Geralt squints at him, but only thing different to this morning is the yellow firelight changing the colour his eyes appear.

"What," he says.

not a goodbye, a thank you - Potrix

Specs: 2 915 words - Mature - Graphic depiction of illness, near death experience, talk about death, found family

Summary: Somewhere further in the courtyard, Lambert yells out a colourful curse while Ciri cackles maniacally. Eskel is taunting the former through his laughter, and Vesemir’s voice joins in with barked commands and corrections once the clang of steel against steel continues. Somewhere above them, on one of the balconies overlooking the yard, Geralt can hear the scratch of quill against parchment as Yennefer works on her correspondence, interrupted every now and again by the tapping of nails against an inkpot.

He realises what’s wrong an instant before everyone else grows suddenly, eerily still; Jaskier is quiet.

After Summers of Fasting (I Feel Hunger At Last) - Artemis_Unbound

Specs: 3 793 words - Teen & Up Audiences - A six pack you can see is not a good thing, Jaskier tricks Geralt into Not Being Starving anymore, Love confessions

Summary: Defined six-pack abs are a sign that someone has been starving and dehydrating themselves, not a sign of incredible strength. It's just not healthy.

Jaskier sees Geralt shirtless for the first time, sees all that defined musculature, and is Horrified. He's slept with enough warriors and soldiers to know what that means. And he decides, this stops now.

Tunes Without Words - foxy_mulder

Specs: 22 021 words - Mature - Self-esteem issues, past abuse, miscommunications, misunderstandings

Summary: The plan is this:

He will note all the things that annoy Geralt, and he will stop doing them, and then Geralt will want him around. It will work.

It has to work, because Jaskier cannot be left behind.

The Path Not Taken - sospes

Specs: 40 149 words - Mature - Extraordinarily bad misunderstanding, Idiots in love, Explicit sexual content

Summary: Jaskier comes across an injured witcher in a backwoods town, months after the events of the dragon hunt. It all just sort of escalates from there.

#The Witcher #Geraskier #Geralt of Rivia #Jaskier #My Posts #Witcher Fic #Fic Rec #Masterpost #100n #150n #200n

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sailorsanghelios · 4 years ago

Text

Some backstory fic for my Au’ra WOL

I meant to get this done during Au’ra April but uhh -looks at calendar- yeah that didn’t happen. But some backstory stuff for my Thel Vadam inspired Au’ra, Seiro, who I’ve posted stuff for before. Uhh CW for fantasy racism stuff and imperialism, cause there’s a lot of Garlemald focus in this.

----- It was a beautiful day, a sunny day, as he rolled down one of the vast hills that rolled across his homeland.

“ you won’t catch me, Papa!”

The tall Au’ra who followed after him, his face was hard to make out, more of a dark blur with horns then anything. And yet he could tell the older man was smiling, “I have never had a man escape me, and I will not let you be the first.”

He had giggled at his father before descending down the hill. His father had immediately broken from the jovial mood, “Seiro be careful!”

He had landed right into the rice paddies below, gasping for breath as he re-emerged soaking wet. His mouth was barely above the water, his limbs and body were weighed down, and his head felt like it was being shoved down into the water below.

He looked up, hoping to see his father about to rescue him, and all he saw on the hill above before his head submerged a final time was a sleek soulless black uniformed figure.

“Seiro..”

Wait, that was…

—-

Seiro jolted awake, the fields of Doma had disappeared, into a stark white bedroom, the beautiful Doman sun faded into the cloudy overcast of Garlemald barely seeping into the window.

And Lord Veritas was peering over him looking very displeased. “Seiro aan Veritas” He had a tendency to use his full name, when he was displeased, emphasizing the “aan” portion. He motioned with his finger to get up, and Seiro didn’t spare a second, instantly getting up, and bowing to his benefactor.

“You’re still wearing your nightshirt… did you truly sleep until the afternoon, and did nothing productive all morning? Knowing I'll be arriving home today?”

Seiro awkwardly crossed his arms around the offending garment in embarrassment, “I’m sorry Lord Veritas. The servants must not have awoken me.”

Seiro did suspect perhaps it was deliberate to make him look like a fool. During Lord Veritas’ two month stay in Bozja, Seiro had in essence been left in charge of the manor, a very large responsibility for any twelve year old, let alone a non Garlean one. And one the servants had obviously resented. He had heard them whispering, when they thought he couldn’t hear him, calling him names and talking about how degrading it was to have to serve him, even though Seiro himself only depended on them for necessities.

“Only a child would sleep that long. A baby even. I am very disappointed in you.”

“Yes Lord Veritas.”

Lord Veritas gave out a sigh, almost dismissively “I hope you at least had good sleep. You looked quite intense. What were you dreaming about?”

Seiro realized this was a prompt for him to speak, and he had no idea how Lord Veritas could read him so well, and know what he’d been dreaming about, “I was dreaming about Doma...and my father- the samurai I think…” If he attempted to lie he knew that Lord Veritas would call him out on it. And he never liked him referring to his father, the man who had killed Sosius eir Veritas. His son.

“You think?”

Seiro looked down to the ground, “... I.. I can’t remember. His face...or anything...”

“That is what I hoped for. He should only be remembered as a cautionary tale.” Lord Veritas looked at him from head to toe, “Stand up straight, boy,”

Before the command was even finished, Seiro did so, and Lord Veritas genuinely seemed surprised and caught off guard, “You’re taller than me.”

This shocked Seiro but there was no denying it. It was only by an ilm. “I think I grew while you were gone.” He sounded apologetic about it. The servants had been side-eying him a lot, for what felt like an unending appetite, and his clothes had felt unusually tight. As much as he didn’t want to be a burden, he’d probably have to ask for new ones.

Seiro was surprised by what followed from Lord Veritas, “It suits you. You’ve grown so much over the past five years, Seiro. I never thought I’d miss that little boy so much. Those little horns..” Seiro couldn’t help but crack a small awkward smile, as Lord Veritas stroked the end of one of his horns, that were not quite as little and were beginning to sharpen and harden into their adult forms, “ And I was thinking about that, and you the entire time I was in Bozja.”

Seiro tilted his head in confusion.

“ I brought an orphan home with me. With all the success I had with taming you, I thought perhaps I could be of help to another aan child.”

“...what?” Seiro’s voice cracked childishly, “ Lord Veritas I’m.. are you sure?” It was a rather bold question to ask, but Seiro also knew he wasn’t exactly taken in by choice. If his father, no if the samurai, hadn’t killed Lord Veritas’ son, then he probably would never have been noticed by him. “What will the senators think? I know they already-”

“ Do not concern yourself with such things. It isn’t your lot to worry about Garlean politics. Now make yourself presentable. You don’t want our new...resident to know how lazy you are, do you?”

“I’m not-” he began protesting, but then the glassy cold gaze silenced him, “Yes Lord Veritas.”

‘Make a good first impression.”

---

Seiro had come down, half an hour later, ready to prove himself to whatever interloper this was.

All dressed up, and hoping that no one would take notice of how ill fitting his clothes were, Seiro made his way into the dining room, barely getting a look at the small hairy figure before he heard a metallic clang and he was suddenly pulled back, shouting in pain and surprise.

The little interloper turned around and began laughing, uproariously, as Seiro realized in mortification, that his horn had become caught into one of the light fixtures on the wall. He began pulling at it in vain, though from behind he was unable to figure out how to unstick it.

Lord Veritas had gotten up, sighing, almost too dramatically, and walked toward Seiro, almost effortlessly freeing his horn. “I told you to make a good first impression.” he hissed.

“I didn’t mean to I-” he felt his face flush as the little one kept on laughing at him, “What are you laughing at?” he demanded.

He had assumed when Lord Veritas first entered his bedroom, and announced this new housemate, that it’d be another Au’ra. He had hoped it’d be another Au’ra, he never expressed it, but it made him sad sometimes the only time he ever saw his own kind was when he looked in the mirror. But this little creature, covered in fur, was obviously the farthest thing from an Au’ra. He had never seen one in person, but he knew from his lessons on the many provinces and peoples of Garlemald, it was a Hrothgar. In fact he should have expected it, the Hrothgar were the natives of Bozja.

“Seiro, don't be a bully. Trajan has had a long journey, and is still adjusting to a new place.”

“I don’t care. I will not be laughed at. Especially not by a little kid.”

“Then maybe don’t be so stupid looking.”

The smug little face on the furry little creature made Seiro’s blood boil, but he was stopped by a placating hand

“ Don’t be so clumsy, and watch where you’re swinging those horns of yours,” Lord Veritas said, barely even blinking at the fuming preteen. He turned back to Trajan, “I'm sorry, boy. Seiro is used to being an only child. Even before he came into my care, he was a very pampered and spoiled only child. I’m sure he is willing to learn to cooperate though. Aren’t you Seiro?” Seiro found himself cringing as Lord Veritas patted his back.

“...yes Lord Veritas,” Seiro felt very overwhelmed by this, and he still felt groggy enough from his sleep that his patience was thin.

Seuro sat down, in his usual spot next to Lord Veritas, and across from Trajan. He avoided eye contact with the Hrothgar, but he could hear the sounds of Trajan eating loud and obnoxious. It surprised him that Lord Veritas wasn’t scolding him, he knew if he ever ate like that he’d be in deep trouble.

Ifa anything Lord Veritas seemed to encourage it, “I’m glad to see you have such a hearty appetite.” He looked over at Seiro, “I remember with you, how long it took for you to accept a meal from me. Or to do much of anything really. I genuinely thought you were trying to hunger strike me. But you gave in eventually.”

Those eyes were bearing into him again, and Seiro shifted awkwardly,“...I think I thought if I didn’t listen to you, you’d send me back..” His memory was faded, but he still vaguely could recall the way he smashed plates of food given to him, and screamed and cried, and refused anything given to him. His seven year old mind had hoped and prayed that maybe if he was terrible enough, he’d be sent back to his mother as a lost cause.

“Why would you want that?” Trajan snorted.

Seiro looked down at his plate, feeling the judgmental stare of the younger boy, and simply shrugged. It wasn’t something that he could actually put into words. Both because it’d upset Lord Veritas, and honestly...he wasn’t sure.

Lord Veritas seemed to have an answer though, “Pride clouds judgement. I’d say that it came from youth, but knowing the samurai...perhaps Seiro simply didn’t know better. A habit I am very glad I broke you of before it was too late.”

Lord Veritas’ dark eyes always looked so glassy, and the way Seiro’s own gold eyes seemed to reflect back when he looked back in their inky abyss, always made it feel like he was being looked through. His food felt like it went down him painfully, and any hint of appetite felt like it was gone. “ I want to go.”

“Whatever for?”

“He looks sad.'' Trajan’s helpful reply, there seemed to be a curl to his overly toothy expression, that made Seiro’s face flush with shame.

“I'm not hungry I guess and umm..” he racked his brain for an excuse, “ the history tutor is coming tomorrow, and I want to study.”

“Indeed he is. I am interested to hear your progress in your studies.”

Seiro found himself stumbling nearly tripping and invoking more amusement in his misery, as he bolted from his seat and out of the dining room, barely hearing Lord Veritas’ admonishments not to run indoors before he ran up the grand staircase and into the safety of his room, away from prying eyes.

His room had always felt like both a sanctuary and a prison to him. Before Seiro had been brought to the manor it had been a guest room for dignitaries and even five years later it retained that feeling of being comfortable but devoid of personality. Truly the only sign of a child living in this room, was the pile of school books Seiro was digging through before finally sitting in his plush reading chair.

He was embarrassed to realize any attempt to refresh his knowledge on the properties of ceruleum engines led to his vision blurring with tears. Especially when he heard his door open with no knock before which could only be one person.

“Seiro, what was that display at the table? And why are you crying?”

“ I don’t know”, he choked out, “ I just don’t know. “

Seiro looked up and was surprised to see the look on Lord Veritas’ face was rather sympathetic as he knelt down and hugged the boy, making him drop his book in shock.

“I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t be so hard on you Sosius, I just-“ he realized the name he just said and suddenly disengaged from Seiro, revealing a face of realization and genuine anguish.

“ Lord Veritas…” Seiro said softly, “I’m sorry..,”

He shook his head, as he stood up straight, “Don’t be my boy. You did nothing wrong.”

“But my father did.”

The words felt heavy in the room as if they were echoing in a cave. But Lord Veritas responded very gently, “you are not your father. And besides...I will hate your sire until the day I die, for what he took from me. But at the same time, how can I really fault him? My only son was a fool of a man, who thought he was invincible. Who poked a trained samurai, one of the greatest warriors in Doma, until he broke. And Sosius was not strong. He was rather sickly in fact at least in his childhood. He could barely exert himself without nearly suffocating himself to death. It wasn’t until we conquered more territories, learned more about the magical cures of these places that he became more healthy. But certainly not healthy enough to be in the Imperial Legions. And he always resented that, and for some reason he kept on being rewarded for how bloodthirsty he was toward the aans. He desperately wanted nothing but to prove himself. And someone finally had enough of it and ran him through.”

Seiro had never heard Lord Veritas speak much about his son, let alone so candidly, and he couldn’t think of anything to say that wouldn’t be offensive and get him in more trouble.

“I’ll be honest by the time he died, I hadn’t talked to that boy in years. I never saw eye to eye with him. I dare say I couldn’t stand him, and he felt the same toward me. But he was still my son. My heir. And how he turned out, I only had myself to blame.” He gave a wistful sigh, “His mother had died when he was so young, and I poured myself into my work, barely able to even look at the boy. And then when I finally did I hated what I saw, but there was little I could do to ever influence him,”

At this point, it was as if Lord Veritas wasn’t even looking at him, and suddenly his eyes focused back on Seiro, “I will say you are a much more agreeable child then Sosius ever was, with much more promise. If you were a Garlean by blood, you’d go very far. And that's part of why I took in another boy.”

Yet again Lord Veritas’s eyes seemed to wander around the room, past the still sniveling and confused boy, “I’ve been alive a long time. I remember before the empire was ever an empire. Back when my family’s title of “Lord” still meant something. But at the same time it also meant nothing, because Garlemald meant nothing. And yet as we expand, I find myself wondering why we don’t allow the Domans, or the Bozjans, or the Ala Mhigans, and all the others, have the same opportunities we do. Everyone is so quick to forget how we were once on the bottom. No matter how I train you, and no matter how much skill you have, you will never have the opportunities my foolish son had. And that’s quite a shame.``

“... Is that why you took me in as a ward? You saw potential in me?”

Lord Veritas shrugged, “I’ll be honest, my boy. I was angry. That the samurai killed himself and escaped the consequences of his actions of killing my son. Or at least escaped them coming from my own hand. I wanted justice. And you were that justice. He took my son away, so his son is now mine. That was my thought, when I met you. An eye for an eye.”

Seiro shifted uncomfortably. It did seem like a fair exchange, in theory but… it still made him uncomfortable to realize he was essentially collateral.

“...but then I saw you as another opportunity, to not repeat my mistakes that I made with Sosius. And then I became fond of you. And I find myself wishing you could have been my trueborn son. And I feel the same toward Trajan, from my time meeting him.”

“Thank you Lord Veritas. It means a lot to hear that.” Seiro said in shock.

Lord Veritas sighed, “And I probably should have told you before picking the boy up. I’ll be honest another reason I did so was I always worried you were lonely. It was always so hard to find anyone in the Senate or the Ministry, who didn’t just view you as some pet pro of mine, let alone anyone who’d allow any sort of play date with their child. And now you’re too old for such things. But what kind of life could you be having, just reading,studying, and training all day. You and Trajan can give each other companionship, and can understand each other. Both as children, and as aan.”

“I’m already happy, Lord Veritas.” Seiro said, “I’m fine being by myself.”

“And that's why I didn’t tell you. I knew that’s what you’d say. But give the boy a chance will you? Maybe apologize to him for your behavior.”

Seiro wanted to protest, for he had done nothing wrong. That little furball had been the one who had humiliated him in the first place. But he knew better than to argue. ‘I’ll do it-”

“Do it now.” The words were firm. And final.

------

The little Hrothgar’s room was similarly sparsely decorated as Seiro's, perhaps even less so. It still had that smell of dust to it that Seiro still distinctly remembered his own room having when he first entered it five years before.

Trajan was busy drawing, the childish scrawls that were incomprehensible reminded him a lot of the drawings Seiro did when he was younger. It was a good way to pass the time in this house.

“What is that?” Seiro asked, trying to break the ice.

Trajan looked up, frowning at him, before covering the paper up. “Go away.”

“ Is it from Bozja?” As a child, especially when he first arrived, Seiro had found himself drawing things from Doma, such as the tigers that his father had brought home before as trophies, or the sheep that sometimes strayed too close to their settlement before their shepherds hurried them off.

The boy glared at him, making a face similar to the fury that had been frozen on those tigers Seiro’s father had brought home long ago, “ I’m just drawing, it’s none of your business.”

“What’s Bozja like?” Seiro asked, trying a different approach, “ I know it's one of the oldest territories, so you’ve always been Garlean right? Where are your parents?”

The boy’s face contorted, focusing more on his drawing than on Seiro, “What sort of question is that? Dead of course. I think. I never really knew them. And that's pretty normal in Bozja. I had an uncle, but he just left me at the orphanage a few months ago. I was lucky they had a bed. I don’t know where he went.”

Seiro was shocked by how nonchalant Trajan was, as if he were simply discussing the weather. “I’m so sorry I… I lost my father… and I don’t know what happened to my mother.”

It was easier for Seiro to process the loss of his father. He knew it happened, he knew the man was dead. But the last time he’d ever seen his mother, she was screaming and pleading, after the Garleans had torn him from her arms. And for her husband’s crimes, she too had lost everything, all of her beautiful hair pins and kimonos, all of the status that came from marrying into the Byakuyas, their ancestral home itself, and of course her only son. And the older Seiro got the more grim he realized her probable fate was. In many ways, it was easier just to not think about her.

“Lord Veritas told me everything about you. You’re not like me, so shut up.”

Seiro’s brow furrowed as he crossed his arms, “I came here to apologize for earlier. Lord Veritas wants us to be friends.”

“But you don’t want to be my friend. And I sure don’t want to be yours. So leave me alone.”

Seiro didn’t expect this kind of rejection to hurt so much, but he took a step back, mouth agape.

Trajan continued, “ You just think you’re better than me because you’re bigger than me and have been here longer. You’re no better than all the big boys at the orphanage. You just want me gone, but I’m here, and I’m going to make you gone. Already he likes me better than you.”

Seiro fumed, at this childish logic, “Fine. If you hate me, then I hate you too. I hope he realizes his mistake and sends you back to your shite orphanage!”

The door slammed with an extreme force that echoed through the hall, as Seiro left the room, returning back to his own room, to have a good cry.

#seiro veritas #ffxiv shitpost hour

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fheythfully · 4 years ago

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sea’s WoL challenge - starlight

“But Blake!”

Chuckling, the young man shook his head. “Come on, Claire, I’ve told you hundreds of times--I can’t take out a fifth card so you can check out more books. Do you know the things I had to do to even get you a fourth? It was like facing the Sanguine Sirens themselves.”

Across the room from him, Claire’s lips slipped downward into a pout. One finger ran across the well-worn spine of a nearby tome on Thavnair folktales as she leveled a demanding gaze at her betrothed. “How mean,” she muttered, childish whining colouring her voice younger than her twenty and two summers.

Warmed by the weak evening Limsan sun at his back, Blake couldn’t help but laugh. “Yet you still chose to accept marrying me,” he teased. The front door of their humble cottage stood propped open as he gathered his things for the evening, a nightly routine down to Claire’s little requests from the city. “How about this--” Turning from his rucksack, he shot a wide smile at the woman. “I’ll bring you back some of that coffee you love as an apology. For not enabling your bad habit for books, that is.”

Claire’s nose scrunched up as she rolled her eyes. “Don’t patronize me, Mr. Bastion.” Stretching, she stood and made her way into the embrace of his arms. The blue of her eyes met his as she rested her chin on his sternum. “However, I accept your offer of peace. Don’t stay out too late, alright?” Reaching up, she placed a kiss on his cheek to mark her words. “I know you’re an aspiring scholar, but I like to spend time with you too, you know.”

Softening, Blake pressed his lips tenderly against her head. “I’ll make sure to come home early tonight just for you, sweetheart.”

Tenderness melted into girlish amusement as Claire grinned and stepped back from him. “Good. Now shoo before I think coffee isn’t enough to make up for your grave transgression against my reading habits.”

Laughing, Blake held his arms up in surrender. “I’m going, I’m going.”

He had lost count of the amount of days he had spent now visiting the Arcanists’ Guild in Limsa, burying himself in their tomes on restorative magicks. Coming into his aether at the late age of seventeen was more of a hindrance than a help, but he remained ever stubborn to grasp that which continued to elude him. In the past two moons it had felt like the gears in his brain had slowly begun turning, recognizing the words he’d read as more than just ink on paper. It will take years, the academics at the tower had warned him. That’s fine, he’d said. He could wait. The skill to mend the hurts of others and his own was worth the wait and the struggle to understand.

The red moon hung as heavy and oppressive in the sky as all other days, a red eye glaring at them from its mighty altar in the sky. Blake squinted at it as he tried to calculate whether it had grown closer since the day before, paying no mind to the increasingly agitated waters of the Rhotano breaking against the sturdy stone of Limsa’s bridges. Few common folk did now, except for the fishers growing fearful of unexpected sealife migrations and those unfortunate enough to be in power in the current circumstances.

If the streets stood emptier that evening with a lack of Yellowjackets patrolling, Blake paid it no mind either. As focused as he was on the Arcanist tower in the distance, it took multiple abrupt screams for him to notice the fires suddenly streaking across the sky.

“Tis the moon!” A cry sounded within the crowds stopped at the Plaza. A second glance at the red moon confirmed the assertion for the man, for it had seemed to crack open above and beyond them like an egg, spitting fragments to streak across the sky.

Within seconds, the city had descended into chaos.

Blake paid it little heed as he turned on his heel and sprinted back towards the cottage he had departed barely a bell past. La Noscea flashed by him in fragments of screams and fire, his legs carrying him the fastest they ever had. And in his heart he prayed to his deities, to all the Twelve, that no such fate awaited his home, that Claire remained safe--

The cottage was already in shambles and ablaze when he set eyes upon it, the roof crumbled in on itself and wooden supports screeching their anger. “Claire!” He screamed as he slipped inside the remnants of their front door, decorated with bright wreaths only a bell ago. “Claire! Can you hear me?”

It took him a long moment to spot the young miqo’te through the heavy haze. He rushed over and fell to his knees beside her crumbled form, desperately reaching for the shattered support beam crushing her legs in place. “I’ll get you out,” he babbled, scrambling for purchase on the charred wood. “I can fix this, I can fix this--”

A small, dirty hand fell over his arm. “Did you get my coffee?” Claire murmured, eyes barely open as she willed herself to focus on his face. A trembling smile held firm on her face even as her breath became shallow. “Blake--”

“I’ll get you all the coffee you want,” he pleaded. Desperation bled freely into his voice as he grabbed for the arcanist tome at his belt and began flipped through the pages, seeking a formula to restore her. “Just hold on, Claire--”

His heart thundered in his throat as he found the one he sought and began casting. Just give her a little strength, he prayed. Then I can get her out and carry her away. Please, please--

A beam above them splintered with an angry scream. The aether within his body rose up as if in answer and screamed back in a flood of healing light that erupted from Blake’s hand and into Claire’s body, furiously led by the roar of his desire. Blake watched it wash over her torso and seep into her skin, knitting the surface wounds back together and spread into her legs, her head--

A shriek of pain bellowed forth from Claire’s mouth as the aether kept flowing and flowing, tendrils curling past her lips and into her nose. Her spine snapped ramrod straight, throwing her head back in an unnatural arch, as she kept screaming and screaming and screaming.

“No,” Blake cried. “No, this isn’t what I wanted--no, Claire--”

He dropped the grimoire to cradle the woman’s convulsing body in his arms, grabbing for her head as she continued to scream. “I didn’t mean to--Claire--”

Like a marionette cut from her strings, she collapsed fully in his arms and fell silent. Her body gave one last, heaving shudder, her eyes flaring the purest white of aether, and became limp.

A sob tore from his chest as he held her warm body with one arm and reached for his fallen grimoire with the other. “I can fix this. It doesn’t end this way, not for you and I, we have so much to do--”

Sobs turned into rage as each attempted spell broke before it even started, his body drained of aether now all dissipated within his beloved’s body. Around them, the house continued burning and creaking with forewarning.

“No, no, no! I can fix this! I can fix this! I just need more time--”

The final support beam straining against its fate gave one last shriek and crumbled to the scorching heat, collapsing straight on to Claire’s body and striking Blake deep across the face. Blood rushed across his face and into his mouth as he choked at the impact, and then the smoke overwhelming his senses. Through bleary eyes he tried to focus on the space where his betrothed had been just moments ago, one hand reaching out for her warmth, her smile, her bright eyes--

Darkness reached back, and then it was all he knew.

“Blake?”

Startled, his eyes snapped from the book held in Ella’s hands as the miqo’te peered curiously at him. “Lost you there for a moment,” she commented. Her eyes sought out his and for a brief, selfish moment, Blake thanked Hydaelyn that her Echo came and went as it pleased.

He cleared his throat. “It’s nothing.”

His companion gave a noncommittal hum as she relaxed further back in her armchair. The twinkling lights of the Starlight tree behind her haloed her form in hues of gold and ruby like a burning fire. “So,” she continued, flipping the book in her hands cover first before him. “1001 Thavnarian Nights for tonight. Yes or no?”

The tonberry lamp at her feet let out a broken, tinny cackle and Ella promptly hit it with her foot. There was a smile on his face as Blake leaned back in his own overstuffed armchair and settled in, the old scar stark over one eye buzzing unpleasantly with memory.

“Go for it.”

#boyfriend requested a writeup of his character's backstory #and i thought to hit two birds with one stone #and this is the finished result #my writing #ffxiv #ffxiv shb #seaswol

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thebmatt · 4 years ago

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Another set of Character Development questions, this time very specific to FFXIV

I cam across another set of character development questions on the Emet-Selch Bookclub discord, and since I love these things, I’m going to answer all 35 of them for all 4 of my crew! Ready? Let’s go!

1. Where were they during the Calamity?

Franks had not yet made the journey between their worlds yet, he only did so about a year into the Seventh Umbral Era.

Fearless was still living on Aerslant, which I don’t know if there’s any canonical description of how the Calamity affected that region, but I’m going to go with “they felt the effects, but it wasn’t quite mass chaos like it was in Eorzea”

Dahkar and Rheika were both living in the Black Shroud but were mostly spared the direct effects.

2. How did they acquire their Echo?

All four of them received the Echo as it plays out in the MSQ. Dahkar and Rheika got it after dealing with the enraged treants at Lifemend Stump, Fearless and Franks after fighting the frenzied Mossback at the Seasong Grotto

3. Does their Echo function like it does in the MSQ? Or is there a twist to it?

For the most part it functions like it does in the MSQ, but there’s some extra abilities that it provides that I’m planning on exploring in a future fic. To summarize: the Armory system is represented as a pocket dimension the Warriors can store clothing, weapons, and tools in. The Echo also allows them to “pause and save” any learning they have done in a particular discipline and resume it as if no time had passed whenever they choose

4. Do they have a canon mount or minion? What's its name(s)?

All four of them have their chocobos, which I don’t have names for yet (the ones in game aren’t canon, as they’re mostly inside jokes). Aside from those, two of my crew have a couple of mounts special to them.

Franks has kept Maggie, the Magitek Armor liberated by the Garlond Ironworks. Most recently, he’s taken to using a Gabriel Alpha magitek unit that he liberated and rebuilt from the Bozjan Southern Front

Rheika is incredibly fond of the True Griffin she befriended while helping the Ananta at Castellum Velodyna.

5. Where are they from? What was their childhood like?

I’ve covered this in some of my “Details!” posts I’ve done for them all, so I’ll be brief here

Franks - from another world, grew up on a farm, pretty normal farmer’s childhood

Rheika - grew up outside of Gridania in a Keeper of the Moon community, a middleish child of a large number of sisters. Aside from being made to understand WAY too early that the Wood Wailers will always treat her like a second class citizen because she is a Keeper of the Moon, she had a pretty happy childhood

Dahkar - Born on the Azim Steppe, mother took him to Gridania after his tribe was killed. Similarly treated like outsider, but otherwise kept mostly to himself, only meeting a couple of friends growing up.

Fearless - born and raised in Aerslant, the Sea Wolf Roegadyn homeland. Child of wealthy parents, she had a privileged upbringing but no choice in anything.

6. How did they deal with the massacre on the Waking Sands?

All of them were horrified and angry by it. Franks had never really experienced the Garlean Empire’s brutality firsthand before this, and it cemented a personal desire to fight them. Fearless, who’d begun to develop serious feelings for Minfilia, was almost beside herself with worry.

7. How did they deal with Haurchefant's death?

All of them took it pretty hard, but Dahkar, who’d been romantically involved with him by this point, was almost broken by it. His grief nearly consumed him in rage, quite literally, but “Fray” managed to help him hold it together until he could process and grieve.

8. How did they feel about the liberation of Ala Mhigo? Do they feel it could have been handled differently? Where they at all bothered by how they were involved?

I get the sense from the way this question was worded that the original author doesn’t care for the Stormblood storyline much, but honestly, I don’t have a problem with it. None of my crew are native Ala Mhigans, but they were all too happy to participate when it became clear that the time for it to happen had been chosen for everyone by Ilberd’s actions. Plus, y’know, there was that whole potential Bahamut-level primal they needed to deal with. Losing so handily to Zenos was a serious morale blow that messed them all up quite a bit, but all four of them went along with the plan. It offered them a chance to get better, to weaken the Empire and strengthen themselves.

9. How do they feel about Zenos?

THey all hate the guy for nearly killing so many of their friends and injuring them so badly. Later, pretty much universal relief when he died, pissed off that he didn’t stay that way, and now hell-bent on ending him once and for all. All of them pretty much agree that bastard needs to die.

10. How do they feel about their relationship with Hydaelyn? Midgarsormr?

Initially they accepted that Hydaelyn was a benevolent force, but once they learned of her origin, especially that she was a primal, a private debate broke out among them all the first chance they got to talk about it (which was after the Shadowbringers 5.0 MSQ when Rheika finally got back to the Source). Franks is very concerned that they’ve been tempered. Dahkar is now extremely wary of her, but isn’t certain their free will has been removed. Rheika and Fearless are unwilling to give up on her, but don’t understand why she stopped speaking to them.

Initially, they were all furious at Midgardsormr, but came to realize that his deeds in severing their connection to Hydaelyn definitely made them stronger. They now regard him as a friend and a source of wisdom.

11. Were they more sympathetic to the dragons, Ishgardians, neither or both?

Franks wasn’t certain of this, having known sentient dragons that had absolutely been wronged by mortals in his homeworld, but he didn’t see a way to fix this on his own, so he went along with helping the Ishgardians. He was absolutely on board with Alphinaud’s plan to try and end it, however.

The others had far less experience with Dragons, and initially accepted their version of events without much thought. They immediately turned on the whole idea when the deception was exposed, though.

12. How has their job affected whatever headcanon version is of the MSQ if any?

As I’ve explained in previous posts, I’ve parsed out all of the jobs (except Monk) to my characters, with the aim of balancing the following ideas.

○ At all times during the story, one of them should be capable of tanking, one healing, and the others DPSing ○ If possible no one should have more than 1 job from any of the 5 roles ○ Obviously, don’t give jobs to characters that make no sense for them to pick up

It’s taken a few revisions, but I’m currently happy with the setup they have. For the most part, they’re extremely proficient with their chosen fighting styles and don’t mind swapping around to fill whatever need is present. For Heavensward, the trio who got their new jobs in Ishgard chose to stick with them for the most part, and for much of the Far Eastern parts of Stormblood, Rheika and Fearless chose to stay Ninja and Samurai for the most part, since it felt “right” to them to use those arts when fighting for Doma’s liberation.

13. Are they close with any of the other Scions? Who do they get along with the best?

Franks gets along best with the more scholarly minded members of the Scions, specifically Y’shtola, Urianger, Krile, and G’raha when he later joins.

Rheika and Tataru have become the best of friends since she joined. She’s always encouraged Tataru to better herself however she wants, and really loves the newfound confidence she’s gained

Dahkar is closest to Thancred among the senior scions. Among the other members, he’s flirted with Ephemie a fair amount, and is considering whether or not he wants to deepen that to something more serious.

Fearless is probably closest to Alisaie. She admires her confidence a great deal.

14. Of the Scions, who are they most worried for?

Franks is most worried for Y’shtola and her “aethersight” draining her life force. He’s actively trying to modify the SCH magicks that cured the tonberry plague to restore her eyesight (and Thancred’s ability to manipulate aether)

Rheika is probably most worried about Urianger, as he’s shown a very disturbing pattern for pursuing a hidden agenda to further the scion’s goals, He claims to be done with that, but she’s worried he might slip into old habits in the future.

Dahkar and Fearless aren’t particularly worried about any of the Scions, beyond the default “these are my adopted family and I don’t want anything to happen to them” level of fear.

15. Is your WoL promiscuous? Celibate? Or just waiting for the right person?

Franks has so far been unable to move past the death of his wife to consider any new relationships. He’s also far older (if only mentally) than anyone who’d be interested, which also blocks him from considering anything new.

Rheika is aromantic, but pansexual. Romance does nothing for her, she just likes having fun with anyone she considers attractive and will respect her rule. She’s got a number of paramours in various parts of the world.

Dahkar is bi, and willing to engage in casual liaisons but at his heart, he really wants a committed relationship. After Haurchefant died, he hasn’t been involved in anything serious since, only crushing on people emotionally unavailable, such as Yugiri (bound by her oath to HIen) or Kurenai (bound by the oath of the Ruby Princess). He’s recently come to realize that this was a form of self-sabotage and is trying to open up again.

Fearless crushes on every pretty girl she has come across, but is usually too shy or lacking in self-confidence to follow up on them. She greatly regrets never telling Minfilia how she felt about her. Her time as a Warrior of LIght and the friendship she’s built with her fellows has helped tremendously. She’s currently involved in a poly triad with two other women.

16. What does your WoL do to relax? What sorts of distractions do they seek? Do they foster any bad habits as a result?

They enjoy spending time together or with the other Scions. If they’re at a point when they need to be alone, they’ll do the following.

Franks likes to tinker, build things, or solve arcanima problems. He can sometimes get wrapped up in any of those and lose track of time. He’s also prone to hiding away to avoid socializing.

Rheika will generally find someone to take to bed if she’s really stressed, otherwise she’s fine just hanging with people

Depending on his mood, Dahkar will either find a monster to fight (never something he’s not confident he can beat) or leap to whatever the highest place he can find is and just enjoy the view.

Fearless enjoys reading novels, but as of late prefers spending time with her girlfriends.

17. Who is their favorite Alliance leader? Who do they get along with the best out of them?

Counting only the 5 members of the Eorzean Alliance, in order from most to least.... 1. Lyse - because she’s one of them, come on 2. (tie) Merlwyb/Aymeric - because they are good people who have the strength to move their nation forward to a better place 3. Nanamo - she’s trying to make Ul’dah better, at least, even if she isn’t able to affect change. Plus she’s not doing enough to address corruption in the Brass Blades 4. Kan-E-Senna - she seems entirely content to leave her people at the mercy of elementals and isn’t doing NEAR enough to address racial inequality in Gridania

18. Does your WoL fully embrace their role as the WoL or do they try to remain humble?

For the most part, they’re humble, but all of them are not afraid to use their titles/fame to get what they need or to make someone’s life better if they can do so.

19. What do they think of the Heaven's Ward?

The only ones they really got to know were the two that tried to condemn Alphinaud and Tataru for “heresy” and the one who attacked them when they were meeting with Hilda. Those were...not positive experiences. That, coupled with the fact that all of them willingly followed the Archbishop into summoning Primals into themselves pretty much sealed their opinion on the rest.

20. Of all the places they've been to, which is their favorite? Do they like to go back there?

Franks enjoys spending time in Ishgard, both because the manufactory is there and he enjoys collaborating with the other machinists and because he really enjoys working on the Restoration of the Firmament.

Rheika enjoys being in Mor Dhona and the Crystarium the most. It’s full of people all working together for the same end, and she’s happy being a part of it and doing her part to help.

Dahkar also loves Mor Dhona, but he’s found going back to the Far East oddly soothing. He feels a connection to the Azim Steppe, despite not really knowing what it means to live there, he wants to learn.

Fearless has made Kugane her home, thanks in part to her one of her girlfriends living there and the other currently on an extended tour there as well.

21. Are there any raid storylines (Ivalice, Coil of Bahamut, Werlyt, etc.) you consider to be canon for your WoL? Which ones don't you consider canon?

I consider all of them to be canon, save potentially the NieR crossover alliance raids. Honestly, the entire story of that place just felt so odd and out of place that I didn’t really enjoy it, and I’m tempted just to say it didn’t happen. Everything else, though? Absolutely canonical.

22. Do you have a unique tale for their job class or is it pretty much like what it is in the game?

Most of them are pretty much as they were in the game, though I have some personal headcanons on how Arcanima and the Paladin job work, the latter of which I’ve explored in one of my fics. The former will be somewhat explained in the current longform fic I’m working on.

23. Are there any side quest storylines that you're particularly fond of or think of as being canon to your WoL's experiences?

Aside from the raids, alliance raids, and trial series, which 21 covered, I’d say all of the Beast tribe quests, the Scholasticate quests (which I suppose means Hildibrand has to be canon too), and most of the sidequesting in Sui-no-Sato are all canon experiences.

24. Does your WoL have any phobias?

None of them have any real strange or irrational fears of note, not that I’ve been able to think of that make sense to the characters, anyway.

25. Do they have any habits or rituals that they do to soothe themselves? I.e. Playing with their hair, chewing their lip, fidgeting, etc.

Franks will absentmindedly fidget with a tool or some spare parts. He’s actually built a small gadget that has some switches and buttons that do nothing for this purpose.

Rheika is restless and prefers to move while thinking. She tends to bounce a leg if she has to sit still too long.

Dahkar is pretty capable of concentrating without needing any kind of habit to aid in it.

Fearless tends to bottle it up until she can release it in private, either by meditating or dancing, depending on her level of anxiety and privacy expectations

26. Do they suffer any traumas from any of their adventures? How do you foresee this affecting them going forward?

Fearless was actually persuaded to pick of the Astrologian job thanks to the trauma of the banquet. She wanted to be able to predict anything that awful from happening to her and her friends again.

LIkewise Dahkar was so traumatized by that (and the Braves’ betrayal), it was the final catalyst needed for him to be open to his Darkside and become a Dark Knight. He’s also the one most affected by Haurchefant’s death, and as I explained earlier, it’s subconsciously kept him from going after other romantic relationships

Rheika had nightmares about Tesleen for months, and they were made worse when she herself nearly became a sin eater. She practiced quick drawing her bow and hitting accurate long distance shots for a long time after that, wanting to be prepared to save someone from that kind of distance if she had to.

Franks has dealt with enough trauma in his previous life that a lot of what he’s seen on Hydaelyn doesn’t affect him as much as it otherwise might.

27. How did the events of Shadowbringers impact them?

Rheika was the only one present for the events of 5.0, and my headcanon is that she wasn’t able to get home until after Hades was defeated. She felt alone and adrift without her fellow Warriors, and the trauma she endured did not help matters. Seeing them summoned to aid her was a balm on her soul, and when Franks figured out how to get the others to the First a little before the events of the Eden raid, she was overjoyed.

28. Were they suspicious or open to Emet-Selch's presence when he first appeared?

Rheika never believed he had good intentions. She always expected him to betray them at some point, but there didn’t seem to be much she COULD do before that happened. Even after he rescued Y’shtola, that was never enough for her trust.

29. Did your WoL suspect anything was amiss with Urianger or the Crystal Exarch? Did they feel betrayed? Upset? When the truth finally emerged?

Rheika immediately recognized G’raha Tia (”I mean he wasn’t even TRYING to change his voice!”), but she assumed there was a reason he was hiding from her, and she trusted Urianger’s vision. When the truth came out, she was angry about being lied to. She understood their reasoning, but threated to beat the crap out of both of them if they ever tried something like that again.

30. What was their highest point in Shadowbringers? Their lowest? What caused it?

High point - ending Hades. Low Point - failing to save Tesleen

31. What were their first impressions of Hien?

Aside from Rheika and Dahkar finding him very hot, they were all very impressed by his willingness to sacrifice his own life if his people chose not to fight any longer

32. Did they trust Asahi right away? Why or why not?

Not right away, no. None of them are quick to trust Garlean officials, and Asahi felt way too slimy. None of them were all together surprised with how things turned out, save for when Maxima agreed to abide by the exchange after everything went south.

33. How did they feel about what happened with Yotsuyu? Did they feel like she was justified in her actions?

All of them felt bad for Yotsuyu’s horrible upbringing (and have made it VERY clear to Hien that he needs to make sure the new Doma does NOT allow for this to happen again), but accept that she made the choices she did and that ultimately, she needed to be stopped.

34. Would you say your WoL is fundamentally a good person? Or are they a bad person that's been persuaded to do the right things?

All of them are absolutely good people fundamentally. They know they’re the only ones that can fight the ridiculous battles they get into, and they’re okay with doing it, because ultimately, they want to save lives.

35. How do they feel about the fact that they've killed a lot of people and/or things?

They all understand that for every life they have to take, it means more are safe, sound, and happy down the road. All of their choices are made with that goal in mind.

#Final Fantasy XIV #oldmanfranks #Rheika Aliapoh #Fearless Willow #Dahkar Darkspear

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fistsoflightning · 5 years ago

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lingering fears

there are simply some things that never truly disappear.

gatheredfates’ [30 day WOL challenge] | prompt: tomorrow

if anything this is my Peak Bullshit, if i had to pick out one fic that was the Top of my Bullshit. also, thank you to @to-the-voiceless for letting me subject haruki to this silly lilycat? he’s a Mess? anyways! slice of life content go!

a’dewah had waved syhrwyda and duscha goodnight from the floor of the basement library when the chronometer hanging delicately above elwin’s forge had read two bells to midnight, the golden bells chiming in time with syhrwyda’s little laugh. it was only slightly past when he usually retired for the night, so they hadn’t looked too closely into the fading darkness to a’dewah’s expression, playfully teasing him for being such a bookworm despite being the only two sharlayan scholars in the house.

(in hindsight, he probably should have asked one of them to stay, considering how his mind oh so loved to wander in the dark, stumbling upon landmines of memories until a’dewah finds his hands shaking hard enough to make turning on the miniature orchestrion beside him difficult.)

so when haruki stumbles headfirst into the walls separating the library and sitting room from the occupied bedrooms looking like an owl, a’dewah finds that the chronometer reads four bells past midnight. he’s clutching one of a’dewah’s pillows, the cloudsilk cover bunched up beneath his fingers as haruki rubs his eyes, squinting past the gentle blue light of the floral lamp after regaining his bearings.

“dewah, what’re you doing up? was about to go ask duscha if he’d seen you,” haruki mumbles, poorly stifling a yawn into his pillow. not the smartest of plans, really; duscha was much more of a fluffy, unshakeable cushion this late at night, and even all of haruki’s (currently missing) energy would have failed to rouse duscha from his spot among the comatose.

a’dewah can’t find the heart to tell him i had a nightmare where you detested me and i didn’t want to wake you over it, so instead he says, “i figured out what the problem with the… the enchantments i was testing earlier was, and i didn’t want to forget it, so i—” he makes a wide sweeping motion to the mess of books and parchment in front of him. “—er, have this mess now. it’s kept me awake.” it’s not so much a lie as it is a half-truth (he really did figure out how to enchant the new flowers he’d grown upon his return from the first in a last ditch effort to stay awake), but something in his stomach drops anyways, guilt feeding into his already spiraling control.

he makes some noise of ambivalent agreement—a mumbled ‘mhm’ of sorts—and steps over a’dewah’s fortress of tomes and scrolls to the clear spot beside him. a’dewah’s pillow looks… well, a little strangled, but otherwise haruki seems alright, leaving a’dewah wondering just when he woke up. haruki had convinced him to take a “nap” late that afternoon, so it wasn’t unreasonable for him to be awake… but it couldn’t stop him from worrying, now could it.

as soon as haruki gets himself situated by a’dewah’s side, he leans in, grabs a’dewah’s hand (that is currently clenched and resting on top of a small drawing), squints carefully at a’dewah’s face, and calmly says, “you’re lying.”

his ears absolutely do not flatten at that. “what—how—ruki, are you sure you—you’re completely awake?”

“yep, sure am,” haruki yawns, which is a sure sign that he’s an absolute liar if not for the strength of his grip around a’dewah’s clenched hand. “you probably don’t notice, but… well, you can’t see it, but here—” haruki reaches over with his free hand to poke lightly at the corner of his right eye, tracing down his lower eyelid to where the small scar sits perfectly vertical over it. “—whenever you lie, it kinda twitches and tenses up. plus; you start to stammer, which is both cute and your biggest nervous habit.”

“i—that’s.” a’dewah blankly stares into the slowly blurring parchment still in his lap while haruki yawns yet again (really, he should have just kept sleeping, especially since he and mune were going to see the moonfire faire fireworks in a few suns), because how was he on par with elwin on catching tells and his stammering is cute and it’s incredibly dark does he have some sort of night vision—

at some point during his slow descent into anxious madness, haruki had scooted over from a’dewah’s side to right behind him, one arm wriggling under his and the other over his shoulder, holding him firmly in place as haruki carefully nuzzles his horn next to a’dewah’s torn ear. the motion is so filled with reassurance, kindness, love that a’dewah stops thinking enough to melt into haruki’s chest, but not enough to stop him from jamming whatever semblance of purring was climbing up his throat back down. he is not prepared for the teasing that will come out of that, not this late at night… or early in the morning.

“there’s the soft, relaxed you,” haruki mumbles quietly, his face close enough to a’dewah’s ears to be clear despite the soft tone. “you were so tense i thought you might strain something. now that you’re not, though, d’you mind…”

“if you’re sure you want to hear it,” a’dewah sighs. resisting the urge to curl into himself is only second in difficulty to not feeling utterly sick by what he readies himself to say. “it’s just a silly nightmare, really; we were sitting in the one garden, k-kinda like this, just talking. it was nice until dream-you started to—he said things that weren’t really… well, you, like that you hated me and—and you n-ne…”

he finds himself just short on courage to say you never loved me because how selfish and hurtful would that be, to tell someone who loves you so much that they’d come looking for you in the middle of the night that the twisted, broken, and scared part of you was convinced you hated them? to say that you couldn’t trust them with your heart because they might actually break it even if that isn’t who they are at all? haruki would never say that, not for a joke and never for real; he’d somehow kept loving a’dewah even after all the waiting and worrying he was subjected to.

but, his mind whispers traitorously as haruki inhales slowly by his ear. a’dewah screws his eyes shut, letting his back tense up again as one of haruki’s arms moves to cradle his cheek. just because he wouldn’t now doesn’t mean he couldn’t later and what if he’s just tricking you like all—

“hey,” haruki says, knocking a’dewah from whatever number thought spiral this was of the night when he turns a’dewah’s head to meet his eyes. “breathe, sunshine; i’ve known you long enough to remember when your hair turned white. i don’t think i could hate you for being afraid.”

“s-sure,” a’dewah says, even if he doesn’t fully believe it and it sounds like he’s lying again. he breathes anyways, broken heart strangling itself inside his chest as he nearly chokes on air.

haruki’s eyes scrunch up at the corners in pity as he somehow pulls a’dewah closer, thumb tracing up his cheek to wipe just under a’dewah’s burning eyes and oh gods he’s crying isn’t he why is he like this. he nearly pulls out of haruki’s touch to curl up into the smallest ball he can, but haruki leans forward first, tilting his head carefully so he doesn’t gore a’dewah on his horns.

“i’ll love you today—” haruki presses a kiss to a’dewah’s forehead. “ —and tomorrow—” a second, on the bridge of his nose. “ —and tomorrow—” a third on the scar trailing down his cheek and a’dewah pushes him away this time to bury his face in his hands since he can already feel the flush spreading across his face.

“ruki, that’s just…” he trails off, still being peppered with kisses in his hair, because of course he’d know just what was haunting him. his eyes are still screwed shut and hot but his heart feels full and stong, untwisting itself under “you shouldn’t have to reassure me all the time but—how are you so…so—” kind, caring, observant, bold—

a’dewah stops stammering in time to sneeze; a quiet thing, drowned out under the soft hum of the miniature orchestrion playing next to them, but with haruki’s arms wrapped around his chest and the way his ears had shot back up in surprise…

honestly, he should have expected haruki’s reaction.

“i—ruki i wasn’t done writing—don’t knock over that pile, those are dusch— wait put me down!”

“nope! now that we’ve cleared that up, time for bed,” haruki says triumphantly, his energy finally regained from cuddling as if that were a proper form of rest. before he knows it, haruki’s cradling his legs and back atop the pillow he’d dragged from a’dewah’s bedroom and swiftly picking him up before he can even try to stop his absolute menace of a boyfriend. “and this time, no leaving—wake me up next time dream-me is all weird, okay?”

“...mhm, but—the books and the parchment and the orchestrion—”

“whoever wakes up first can deal with the orchestrion, and the mess won’t go anywhere, sunshine. i’ll help you clean up, tomorrow.” haruki shifts his arm to put a hand on a’dewah’s head, fingers running over his ear in a soothing scratch. he says tomorrow like a promise, so warm and sure that a’dewah stops fighting back, content to let the drowsiness he’s been warding off catch up as haruki quietly walks back to a’dewah’s room.

he must have been more tired from gardening yesterday than he thought; he barely reacts when haruki gently rolls him off the pillow into bed, nor when he’s jostled around to be lying on top of haruki instead of the bed, a blanket wrapped around his waist. honestly, he really should go clean off his facepaint, but the warmth of the blanket and haruki’s arms combined make the executive decision to stay here before his brain catches up.

he does, however, escape sleep long enough to talk, especially since one thing is still bothering him. “hey, ruki?”

“...something still up?” haruki yawns into his fist, and from here a’dewah can see the dark circles beginning under his eyes. gods, he hoped he didn’t keep him awake and that it’d only been a few short minutes since haruki came and found him.

“i was thinking… why did you come look for me? it’s the middle of the night.” or too early for the morning, but that was all perspective.

“i thought…” haruki pauses, and his next breath comes out as a resigned sigh. “i thought you left—farther than i could follow, kind of left.”

a’dewah’s breath catches, if only a bit, since that was a turn of phrase sometimes reserved for the dead. he knows he couldn’t have gone and died in a single night, but the thought of leaving haruki wondering if a’dewah was even alive makes his stomach turn; they’d both already had their fair share of dead family for a lifetime.

haruki resumes tracing idle patterns into a’dewah’s back without really waiting for any response as a’dewah quietly remembers that, well, he did leave haruki without a word for over a year and then told him he didn’t have any grasp on when, how, or if he’d be coming back. that alone would be enough to send him into a fit, so… maybe he wasn’t the only one with nightmares, between the two of them.

“never again, not if i can help it,” a’dewah promises in whispers, as if the gods were listening and if they heard would do everything to prove him wrong. he’ll fight hydaelyn if it means keeping it, sacrilege be damned. “you’ll just, well, have to wait a few moons before you can safely follow me, since…”

“garlemald, right,” haruki says with a crescent-moon grin, his eyes warm and glowing with golden light, as if he were staring right at the sun falling past the horizon and the sunlight was smiling back. belatedly, a’dewah realizes that haruki is staring right at his face, which in any other circumstance wouldn’t be such a problem but he just compared himself to the sun like who would honestly do that—

he pulls the throw blanket over his head, curls a bit into himself and squeaks out, “g’night ruki love you!”

“love you more, dewah.” haruki whispers back, even though his warm chuckle and a hand combing through his hair is more than enough of a response. he doesn’t even try to pull the blanket from his head, merely closing his eyes and drifting off. his hands don’t move from where they’re rested under a’dewah’s cardigan, warmth defined and seeping through the thin shirt like a soft brand.

once a’dewah’s fairly certain that haruki’s fully asleep, he shifts around enough so he can twine his tail carefully around haruki’s, finally letting sleep take him while he prays that he wakes up first tomorrow.

#ffxiv #final fantasy xiv #seaswolchallenge #a'dewah tia #haruki hagane #my writing #s: sitting in a persimmon tree #okay so this is the most indulgent soft harudewah yet and im NOT SORRY #will smith poses at haruki and dewah cuddling: please look at them #also this took so much longer than it should have to write #tales from the blue

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tarajenkins · 5 years ago

Note

Given what you've said of Vauthry, about how we're never given any chance to even try and redeem him, help him become a better person, I'd like to ask: how would you go about "saving" him? When he transforms into that Lucifer/Archangel Michael-looking guy, he seems permanently lost, but how would you write out a redemption narrative for him?

I love this ask, I hate the answer I have to give. But it’s gonna be a long response anyway, because context and because you already know I don’t know when to shut up about characters, lmao.

SO I HOPE YOU LOVE HEARING ME RAMBLE UNDER THIS CUT (but I won’t blame you if you don’t)

I don’t think the in-game narrative allows Vauthry any chance at redemption in the current time, even if he had the agency to take it. I don’t think we ever saw what he actually could have been. I think what we saw in Shadowbringers was the Lightwarden he’d been carrying finally “awakening”, as Innocence’s Triple Triad card put it. Or, as the X-Files put it in their eighth ep: “We are not who we are”.

Even if that Lightwarden could be driven out of him (I know an “Aethertech” who would do anything to make that possible cough), I don’t know if he’d regain clarity he may never have had to start. I’d love to think that he did, a long time ago. The Minstreling Wanderer tells us he can’t say whether or not Vauthry was a monster as a child, when you unlock Crown Of The Immaculate EX.

I believe the Lightwarden’s influence was driving a lot of his brutal acts of “justice”, because that is kinda their whole thing. As for the man inside the monster? I have a hunch he was desperate to not be seen as unnatural, and was trying to make sense out of what was happening to him in a way that would not make him a hybrid abomination. Because if he wasn’t a God, if he wasn’t this divine thing he was told he was – then what was he? The way he worded it, “this is why I was born…as man and Sin Eater both…” – it makes me feel he had, at some point in his life, at least once, ASKED why he was born as he was. That he had perceived it was wrong. He needed it to be right. And that was just fuel to the corruption fire.

The talk of godhood actually seemed to be a recent phenomenon, as no other NPC mentions a thing about it – they refer to him as “Lord Vauthry”, and speak of him in mortal terms, apart from his miraculous ability to keep the Sin Eaters at bay. He freely boasted of being a God to the Crystal Exarch, yet we’re to believe he didn’t say a word to his own people, all this time? Or that no one, in turn, would mention to us “Yyyyeah, about this guy….” Mayor Punchable Face may have told him he was a God, but it doesn’t sound like Vauthry bought into it enough to spread the good word for at least twenty years.

Also consider he called his transformation into Innocence a “trial”. Why would a god need to be tested? And by whom?

By the time we see him in-game, it seemed he was in a rapid decline of sanity, or at least the ability to keep up appearances, and whatever was left of him was fervently clinging to the only purpose he was ever apparently given – which is exactly what that Lightwarden (and Emet-Selch) would want.

He was really cynical about the rest of humanity. Given his father, I can see where he’d get that from. Not that daddy told him people suck, it’s that Vauthry probably learned that by his father’s example. Maybe by the rest of Eulmore, too, but I got the impression he was kept seriously isolated from society before his inauguration. He seems to prefer being alone – he only leaves that room when he moves the Sin Eaters against Lakeland. He gives no indication he knows how to socialize, period. You either come to him, or you don’t see him. (He may be keenly aware humes don’t typically reach at least fifteen feet tall. Seriously, look at Cruelty’s size compared to player characters, now look how Cruelty makes a comfy couch for him.)

Cynical, and yet, he wanted to see the people of Eulmore’s “dreams fulfilled, their wishes granted”. Just so long as he was the one responsible, and he was the one recognized for it. He needed their acceptance.

ANYHOO. On to stuff I still have zero idea what to make of.

I should preface the rest of this infodump with the fact I found the Eulmore arc to be the weakest of the expansion, between Vauthry and Ran'jit. Most of the MSQ was given nuance. Eulmore was given a Saturday Morning Cartoon sledge. A -lot- of questions, with no answers, unless Squeenix decides to be generous in a fifty-buck lore book later. (something I hated Warcraft for. I should not have to pony up for a book to understand the main story quest chain in a game.) So, here are some of the questions I’ve got:

- FOOL! THAT WILL NEVER WORK!

They don’t really explain why Emet-Selch thought corrupting an infant was a good plan, as the Sin Eaters seemed guaranteed a win on The First, if only by outlasting the survivors of the Flood. Impatience, maybe? Why not give it to the mayor? That dickpickle would’ve said yes. Maybe we’ll get more answers with the Eden raid. IT’D BE NICE *COUGH*

- The meol thing.

It’s using Sin Eater’s non-existant flesh to make a bread, and through that bit of Sin Eater, Vauthry could control whoever ate it. The fanbase loves the “soylent green is people” angle, but it’s done pretty haphazardly, when you think about it like that? Sin Eaters have no lasting corporeal body. They are Light, mixed with a bit of the lingering essence of whatever they originally were – and what they originally were did not have to be humanoid. They dissolve into sparklies in the air upon death – and arguably, they would not have to die to contribute sparklies to somehow mix into food. Forgiven Cruelty lost a whole wing to Thancred when Thancred first took Ryne from Eulmore, and it seemed to have grown back just fine by the time we see Cruelty again. Killing Sin Eaters also would be entirely counterproductive to a nation that devoted themselves to NOT killing them. Also – we are shown the Afflicted, people who are falling to corruption from a SIn Eater attack they’d survived. How is it people who eat meol don’t become corrupted themselves?

Where did the idea for meol even begin? Vauthry’s father was ousted by the people as mayor before Emet-Selch said hey there, friend, you have a punchable face, let’s make a deal – and Vauthry only took control of Eulmore 20 years ago. He looks a LOT older than 20, or even 40. So his father must’ve rode his child’s coattails before then. Did Mayor Punchable Face think that was a wise countermeasure against future insurrection? In any case, Vauthry did not exert that control until the WoL and allies were coming to kill the Lightwarden of Kholusia (him), so it did not seem to be a priority of his. Alphinaud confirmed the people were of a free mind until they were made to fight the WoL and allies. (and dialogue stressed it was very noticeable when someone was not of a free mind.) Squeenix: *throws meol into purse* I have to go plotholes came up

- The “Perverted Paradise”. (I at least giggle every time Alphinaud says this.)

Vauthry is presented as the pinnacle of vice, yet the game does not really show this well – in some cases, not at all.

Gluttony: He isn’t shown to indulge in drink, let alone overindulge. Apart from the meol scene at the end, which was related to controlling the Eater-corrupted citizenry, not gluttony, he was not shown to have so much as a snack. There’s food in his chamber, all of it untouched. But! In the Shadowbringers trailer, Squeenix thought the best example to showcase Eulmore’s decadence was – three thicc'qotes. Having pleasant conversation ‘round a table. Eating fresh fruit.

Not the creepy-ass old patron who thinks that since his pretty servant can’t sing anymore, she should be “Ascended” as a kindness, although it was implied she could have recovered her health, just not her voice. Not the guy who tossed his servant from a balcony because reasons and wanted us to bring him back. Not even the noblewoman trying to have her servant killed because her lecherous husband put designs on the poor girl.

Three thicc'qotes. Having pleasant conversation ‘round a table. Eating fresh fruit.

We get it, Square, we’re supposed to see he’s fat and think that is bad. Moving on.

Lust: He doesn’t visit the adult nightclub downstairs (the adult nightclub that is shown practically empty and behind closed doors, the lewdness of it all – I clutch my pearls.) He doesn’t creep on your player character like Magnai did in Stormblood – he doesn’t creep on anyone. He doesn’t want you to be his steed. No interest is shown in the Sin Eaters apart from them fighting for him, as much as some people in the fanbase theorize he is fucking them. (They probably think that Spirited Away is about the sex industry and My Neighbor Totoro is about dead girls, too.) This game is pretty blatant when they intend that sort of thing, see: Yotsuyu, Sastasha, any number of things in Ishgard or Ul'dah. I’ve found nothing here, except the German translation for “Consort Of Sin: Forgiven Obscenity” is “Purified Fornication: Playmate Of The Redeemer”. Since this is not implied in any other translation, I put my trust in Koji Fox and the fact Obscenity’s job seems to be Official Nose Petter to Forgiven Cruelty.

Greed: I am not going to hold his rings and his robes against him, as Urianger has just as much bling (more, actually), The wealthy are made to give up ALL their fortune to be permitted to stay in Eulmore – but that wealth is then used to provide everything for free to those who live there, and the free citizenry are apparently given funds for private use to boot. If they intended to show that Vauthry was using all that for hookers and blow for himself, it did not convey well.

Wrath: If one has broken the rules of the city (or has thrown shade that takes him a full two minutes to catch), Vauthry definitely has this in spades, with a temper tantrum a lot like Philia’s Fierce Beating attack. But again, the writers don’t really show the extent of the wrath they are trying to tell . Because if you don’t break the rules? Nothing happens, apparently. Trouble seems to have to be brought forward to him, he doesn’t go looking for it. It didn’t feel any different to me than the Grand Companies, yet this is the one that finally makes Alphinaud do the *GAAAAASP*.

The populace does not seem afraid of Vauthry. In fact, they feel free to pop ‘round to have a word if they think something needs doing. Chai-Nuzz did not seem distressed by his wife’s suggestion she would have a word with Vauthry to soothe the “hard feelings” stirred up in the quest “Emergent Splendor”.

Pride: He has great pride in his ability to keep the SIn eaters under control, but doesn’t really display any vanity in himself. No portraits, statues, etc. When Alphinaud interfered with Kai-Shirr’s punishment, Alphinaud was told he’d be permitted to stay in the city if he made a painting – not a portrait of Vauthry, but of the city itself.

Sloth: We get it, Square, he’s fat and he sits down, moving the FUCK on. No actually, hold up, to be honest? As tired and :| as he looked all the time, he struck me as depressed. What guy in Paradise looks that haggard?

NOW moving on.

Envy: If my theory holds, probably plenty of unresolved envy for folks who are not “half Sin Eater”. Otherwise, I can’t think of an example here.

- “Ascension” (Sure thing, Jan)

This is only made reference to in the Weeping Warbler quest chain. “As all know, the sin eaters exist to devour the sinful. But also do they serve to gather the souls of the innocent, and shepherd them unto celestial paradise.”

Sin eaters ate a meal that represents the sins of a household you fool oh wait this is The First

The thing I don’t get here is - why are there obviously limitations on who can be ascended, and when? If the idea is strictly to feed the Sin Eaters, or make meol, or just be an asshole, why is this the only time we hear of it?

It’s like if there are no more mortals, Vauthry wouldn’t have that reassurance he is doing good anymore. Either that, or since he’s never worked in retail, he doesn’t know how to push features.

But I’m betting on the former.

- LASTLY: the hypocrisy of the writer’s narrative (and the fanbase).

Tesleen was our first and horrifying sample of what Sin Eater corruption can do to a human. No matter how strong her will may have been, she was just lost to it. She scratches madly at her face when she uses one of her attacks in Holminster Switch, as though trying to stop herself, or punish herself. But she can’t help it. And we know this.

Titania was a tragedy, had to be stopped. But, a TRAGEDY. Whatever was left of the benevolent ruler was corrupted. There was never a moment where our heroes went “dis binch just evil, they gotta go down”. ( I had many choice words for Titania when I wiped enough times to them, but no actual game dialogue really says it. )

We, the Warrior Of Light, came this close to becoming a Warden ourselves. Somehow it was stalled (convenience!), but there was never a question corruption = bad and out of our control.

Vauthry, on the other hand, is treated as though he is in full control of his faculties, although the corruption before birth makes that questionable at best and he pretty clearly is not? Even as he did that Exorcist neck-twist, no one was like “oh fuck, the Sin Eaters got to another one, damn that poor man”. (Which would seem a logical conclusion to me, I hate we have like zero real say in our characters’ reactions) Not even a “ahaha okay no seriously what the fuck is going on guys”. Nope. Their reaction was “EVIL”. Trying to help somehow was never on the table. Watching him die slowly at our feet was.

We saw the Echo of the real circumstance of his birth. It had to come from the Sin Eater that corrupted him, because he wasn’t out of the womb to see that scene play out. Or Emet-Selch. Either way, we saw it, yet at no time afterward do we try to bring the truth out. We just let everyone believe he was evil by choice, and not another casualty of this mess.

And remember earlier, how I said Alphinaud confirmed the free citizenry were not under Vauthry’s control until the fight? Remember the noblewoman whose husband went after their bonded servant, and so she tried to get the girl murdered?

Yeah, we catch up to that noblewoman who tried to murder her servant. She feels really bad about that now. And what is an option we get to tell her ex-bonded servant when she wonders how she could possibly trust the woman who tried to kill her?

“Vauthry’s society brought out the worst in people…”

Fffffffuck you Square lmao

TL;DR:

In private RP land? In private RP land, where we can back the fuck up in the timeline at will? You are damn skippy that Lightwarden got purged before it took complete hold. (an Aethertech did it with SCIENCE.) And Vauthry is cynical and scarred and bitter and broken and betrayed, but he’s not evil. If anything, he’s actually pretty relatably human. And he’s actually pretty damn glad his father’s shitty legacy is over.

#FFXIV #Vauthry #LONG ASS POST #Shadowbringers #I am so sorry Unna

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eliniei · 5 years ago

Text

Not As It Seems Part VIII - Emet-Selch/WoL

Summary: After calling it an early night, the Warrior of Light heads back to her room to relax but is unexpectedly transported to another world to escort Emet-Selch to a ball.

Word Count: 2089

Masterlist: here Ao3: here

Part I: here Part II: here Part III: here Part IV: here Part V: here Part VI: here Part VII: here

As always, if you have any requests you’d like to see show up in this series or any other Emet/WoL one-shot you’d like to see me write, please let me know!

----

When I got back to my room after calling in an early evening, I figured I still had quite a bit of time before Emet-Selch showed up, so I decided to take a moment and finally relax and revel in the quiet. I enjoyed his company, of course, but sometimes being alone was a need instead of a want.

And I must say, the hot water of my bath felt amazing on my aching muscles.

I had just stepped out of my bathtub, though, when the Ascian burst into the room with the force of a tidal wave. I nearly jumped out of my skin, his sudden entrance almost making me slip on the slick tile floor. I grabbed on to the side of the wooden tub to steady myself.

“What the hells-!”

He paused for a moment, realizing that I was not clothed, a puddle of water slowly forming under my feet. Immediately, he averted his eyes as I quickly reached for a towel to cover my body, my face growing hot. I was surprised he bothered.

“Have you finished, yet, hero? I feel like I have been waiting an eternity.”

Ah, there it was. The drama, the attitude.

“You could’ve knocked on the door, you know. You do know how to knock, don’t you?” I put my hands on my hips.

“Of course I know how to knock. I simply did not feel like it.”

“Yes, that seems to be a pattern, doesn’t it? You can look again, I’m covered.”

He turned back to me, visibly relieved. I raised an eyebrow and opened my mouth, but it was as if he had read the question on my lips.

“Think what you will, but I am still a gentleman.” He shrugged, then moved towards me. “We’re going out.”

“What? But-”

Before I could spit out my words, he lifted his hand and snapped. My towel was replaced with a long, glittering, purple gown that hugged my waist tightly, laced up in the back with a ribbon, my shoulders bare and sparkled with a shimmering dust. White, flimsy gloves made of silk slid over my arms, stopping above my elbows, and a pair of absolutely ridiculous heeled shoes on my feet. My dripping hair was instantly dry, swept up and pinned to my head.

I blinked, in total shock, frozen in place for a moment.

“Much better,” he said, his amber gaze looking me up and down.

“What-”

Another snap of his fingers and his usual robes changed, as well- a black suit with a purple vest that matched the color of the dress he’d just thrown me into. His jacket hugged his waist, snugly and the tails hung long behind him. My eyes widened even further, seeing him in these strange clothes. Loathe as I was to admit, they fit him extremely well. He smirked when he saw my face.

“Like what you see, my dear hero?” I stuttered a few words, unsure how to respond, before I regained control of my mind.

“Will you please tell me-”

He held up his finger, halting me again, then flattened his hand, palm up. A mask materialized, and he pushed it towards me.

“Put this on,” he ordered. When I didn’t react, he finally paused and watched me for a few moments as I stared at it. “Well?”

“Where are we going?” I asked, finally able to get a word in. I gently lifting the mask from his hand and examined it closer, resigning myself to his whims. “This is beautiful.”

“We’re going to a celebration,” he told me, ignoring my other remark. “I believe the inhabitants of this particular shard call it a Masquerade.”

“Shard?” I asked, looking up at him, quickly. He wrapped his arm around my waist and I heard the hum of his portal opening. “Wait-!” Before I could protest anymore, he shoved me through.

When I fell through the other side, tripping on the carpet, he gripped my arm to steady me. I could hear music and chatter in the room beyond where we landed, but at the present, we were alone in a hallway.

“Be a bit more careful, won’t you, hero?” He let go of my arm in favor of straightening his jacket, the snapped again. His own mask- his Ascian mask- appeared in his hand. He bent down close to me and I found myself pressed against the wall, his face close enough I could feel the warmth of his breath. When he spoke, his voice was low, intimate. “This Shard is without magic, so do try not to draw attention to yourself.” He lifted his mask to his face and nodded for me to do the same, then held his hand out to me.

“Without magic?” I asked, confused, and slid my gloved fingers into his. He gripped them gently, but firmly. “That’s-but-how do they do anything?” He stated leading me towards the main hall- where I assumed this masquerade was taking place.

“Just like you cook with your hands, so too do these people, although they make everything from scratch.”

The thought struck me as incredibly odd, but I suppose when you’d grown up in a world filled with all sorts of magic, it was hard to imagine life without it.

We stopped outside a tall double door, where two attendants waited at either side. They leaned forward and opened each side for us in unison.

The music filtered in- quick and bright, mostly comprised of some sort of string instrument. My eyes widened at the size of the room, the volume of people dancing about and the colors they were clad in. High above in the vaulted ceiling hung a large, crystal chandelier, sparkling, reflecting everything in the room. The breath left me.

“At a loss for words?” Emet-Selch inquired beside me. He tucked my hand into his arm and led me inside. As a waiter passed us, he dropped my arm and smoothly picked up two thin glasses. He held on out to me, but I looked at it, mildly suspicious.

“What is it?”

“Champagne. Alcohol.”

I pursed my lips, but lifted it from his hand. Once we had both taken a drink, he set his flute down on a nearby table and held his hand out to me again.

“Dance with me.” I bristled a little at his demand.

“I don’t-I don’t know how.” He huffed a laugh and forcibly reached for my hand.

“Hydaelyn’s great champion can’t dance. Unbelievable.” As he tugged me out on to the floor, amidst other couples, he snapped the fingers of his free hand. I felt a prickle in my skin, as if my limbs were threatening to fall asleep, but it was gone as soon as it had started.

“What did you just do?” I asked in a loud whisper. “You just warned me about using magic, you insufferable hypocrite.”

He positioned me in front of him and put one of my hands on the curve of his shoulder, then moved his down to my waist. The other he kept ahold of, holding them both out to the side.

“Lighten up, my dear hero. I just taught you how to dance. Let go for once in your miserably short existence and enjoy it.” With that, a new song started and so did we, the tingling of his magic tugging at me as we danced, showing me the steps.

Everything in me wanted to be stubborn. He’d forced me away from a night of calm relaxation- something I desperately needed.

But as I let him twirl me around the floor, feeling the skirt of my dress move about my body, flowing in the rhythm of our movement, I determined he was right. Maybe I didn’t need to relax. Maybe I just needed to live. So, I did as I was bid, leaning into him and letting his magic take control of me.

The Ascian tensed for a few moments, but I saw a hint of a smile on his lips.

We continued on, but when we were both out of breath, he led me outside on to an unoccupied balcony. I sat down on a wooden bench that sat against a delicate metal railing that overlooked a large landscape with a manicured lawn and well-curated flowers. I slid the mask off of my face and marveled at the beauty before me as Emet-Selch went to get us something to drink.

In that moment, it felt as if a rock dropped into my stomach. This was another shard. They had no magic, no defenses. They were clueless. And he...

“Just water, this time, I’m afraid,” he said when he’d returned, holding a glass of clear liquid to me. I set the mask in my lap and accepted it, letting the cold liquid slide down my throat and refreshing my body. He leaned against the rail next to my seat. I looked down at the mask, the smile I’d had for most of the night drooping.

“What is it now?” he sighed, annoyance tinging the edges of his voice.

“This world will be rejoined if your plan comes to fruition.”

“Yes,” he said, simply.

“How could you give up…” I lost my words, trying not to tear up. I’d spent many nights with him, in his arms and the weight of his actions-what he wanted to do- had been pressing in on me ever since, threatening to suffocate me. Some nights it was easier to hold back the sobs, the anger at how unfair everything had turned out to be. But on nights like this...

“It isn’t about giving up, hero,” he said, turning and leaning on the railing with his arms. “The beauty of our world, our true world, was nothing compared to this. It isn’t about giving up. It’s about making things better again. If something was broken, wouldn’t you fix it?”

I was silent as I looked up at him. He took a deep breath. I would have given anything, in that moment, to not think the thoughts pounding on my skull. He looked down at the mask that still sat in my lap.

“That mask,” he started. I gently picked it up again. “Back when the world was whole, it belonged to a very dear friend of mine.”

“Why did you give it to me?”

“That is the question, isn’t it?” He looked back out towards the lawn, the smile on his face sad. Before long, he pushed himself off the railing and motioned to me, his defensive demeanor changing. “Come.”

I hesitated for a moment, but set the mask down on the bench and stood up. He grabbed me by the waist and lifted me, only to set my backside down on to the cold metal, then wedged himself between my legs.

“Let us put this morose topic to rest for now.”

I pushed the thoughts to the back of my mind as I wrapped my arms loosely around him, telling myself that I’d absolutely be able to contain the light and things would be alright. He pressed his forehead against mine for a moment, then tilted his chin up so his mouth gently captured my pouting lips and breathed in my scent. I relaxed into him, desperately wanting to do nothing more.

Eventually, we went back to the dance floor.

When the party had started to die down, I sat in a chair at one of the many tables in the ballroom. I kicked off my shoes and slouched heavily against the back of the chair, the sparkling fabric of my gown crinkling as I did. I was exhausted- and once I’d been able to quell my thoughts, I’d done just as the Ascian had suggested and let loose.

He came over to me, kneeling next to my chair. “Are you ready to go?”

“No,” I said with a sigh. “I don’t want to go back.”

His eyes softened as he took me in. “I don’t, either.”

In one quick motion, he lifted me to his chest and disappeared. When we appeared again, we were on the roof. He set me down on the tiles, and sat beside me, wrapping his arms around my shoulders. I leaned into him, letting my head drop on to his collarbone, and looked up.

Thousands of stars were out.

He rested his chin on the top of my head.

“How about we just stay out here tonight?”

“Mm,” I hummed, eyes sweeping over the sky, taking everything in. “That sounds nice.”

#emet-selch #emetselch #emet selch #emet-selch x warrior of light #emet selch x warrior of light #Final Fantasy XIV #Final Fantasy 14 #final fantasy xiv shadowbringers #ffxiv #final fantasy 14 fanfiction #final fantasy xiv fanfiction #ffxiv fanfic #ffxiv fanfiction #ffxiv shadowbringers #shadowbringers #shadowbringers spoilers #5.0 spoilers

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theaetherhealerffxiv · 5 years ago

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FFXIV Write - Week One - Prompt 3 - Lost

@sea-wolf-coast-to-coast

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FFXIV Oneshot: OC Based Fanfiction [Wol-verse]

Pairings: Wol oc x Thancred

Summary: They met years ago, but Thancred admits he knows nothing about Swath past before the Scions. Swath decides its time he finally explains his bloody history.

Word Count: 1793

With a pained grunt Thancred stretched out on the cot within the infirmary that was nestled in the side of the Crystarium. I sighed and sat heavily down next to him; despite my looks my body ached and the hustle and bustle of the room made my fatigue so much worse. Our little ward had run off to assist some of the doctors with gathering ingredients again, her mind now fully on her task after we had spoken with her. Beside me my long time companion laughed.

“Wha’ is so funny?” I asked, looking down at the beaten and bruised hyur. He looked at me with a soft smile and reached out to take my hand gently tugging me down to lay beside him. Exhausted, I complied. While I was a Viera, and much bigger than Thancred we still nestled comfortably together on the cot. My shoulders sagged and I shut my eyes for a moment feeling the pain peak in my muscles. I was sure to have bruises. Hearing the man beside me hum and place his head on my shoulder he lifted our still entwined hands. I opened my eyes to gaze at them, before feeling the need to ask my question again. “Thancred, wha is so funny?”

“This,” He shook our hands. “I would have never guessed that we would become so close.” I frowned, close? I clinked our promise bands, that were on our hands in defiance. He laughed again. “Yes, yes. But I mean when I found you outside of Ul’dah, it never crossed my mind that a day like this,” He shook our hands, “And this,” He mentioned to us and the bustling room. “Would happen. That you where the saviour of Eorzea.”

I sighed, “Hard’ly.” I muttered. “Jus’ cause some weird crystal chose me doe’sn make meh, a saviour. I’m just ah adventurer Thancred.” I shifted to nuzzle my nose into his greasy hair, smelling the dirt, blood and sweat. It was familiar, our moments of quiet together usually consisted of such things.

“You may be just an adventurer to many Swath,” Thancred lifted my hand to his lips and kissed the band. “But you are at least my saviour.” I shivered a little bit at the memory; carrying his limp body out of the castrum, feeling the fear in the pit of my belly. Sure the mother Crystal had said that she had saved him but I feared… I had feared the worst. Although in this moment I was thankful. I was thankful that Thancred was opening up to me again, we had been parted for so long again. He had seemed so tired and bitter when I had first come to the First. I closed my eyes.

“Y’eh remember when yeh found me right?” I asked, shifting slightly to get more comfortable; my long ears where bumping against the top of the bed rubbing my fur the wrong way. The man who still had his lips to my dirty knuckles chuckled.

“Aye, course.” His voice was soft. “You were so quiet, withdrawn… angry.”

“Lost,” I supplied.

“Lost,” Thancred repeated placing our entwined hands on his chest. “You never really explained why, I realize. I know so much about you know, but I know nothing of your past beyond the moment I found you.”

I could hear the curiousness in his voice, the wish to ask, the restraint with not, knowing it likely would hurt me. Bringing up such memories was not an easy task for me, but with all that we shared I felt like finally, after all these years I owed him an explanation. I rolled my eyes even though he could not see and sighed. “Yeah, ‘bout time I’h explained som’ thin’s huh?”

“If you would.” Thancred murmured, over the din of the infirmary I almost did not hear him for a moment. “I doubt anyone will disturb us here.” He then supplied, groaning as he reached up with his free hand to pop open a few latches in his chest armor. “Ah, but first if you would please help me here.” I laughed and we sat up, the white haired man before me shrugged off his jacket and I helped him free himself of his breastplate. I heaved it over the side of the bed before shedding what little pointy bits of armor I had on myself. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Thancred unceremoniously throw himself back on the cot. A faint memory of when we finished our first mission together in the Scions coming floating back before I settled back down next to him.

“‘Ight.” I chuckled shifting so that my head was laying on top of his. He snatched my hand again and lifted above us once more playing with the band on my finger. “When yeh found me,”

“I remember you being wounded.” Thancred interrupted. I felt his head muscles shift under my cheek, indicating that he was frowning.

“Yeah, I’h was. I’h had com’ from killin a tangent of Garleans.” I flexed my hand and smiled softly.

“But, there was not a castrum from miles around UI’dah.” Thancred said, his voice a little strained. Clearly he was not liking where my reflection was going, but I would not spare him any details.

“Aye, I’h had been wanderin for quite ah while.” I squeezed his hand gently. “I’h dun remember much, other than it h’a been days -”

“Days?” Thancreds voice broke a little, his hand stilling.

“Aye. I went on rages often. I’h was very.. Broken, Thancred.” I muttered quietly as I waited a moment before continuing. Giving him a second to soak in the small detail. “I’h was still comin off loosin mah entire family to ah Garlean raid -”

“You never said anything about that.”

“No. I’h guess I’h never saw a reason ta. I’h was with tha Scions, no reason ta bring up ol wounds.” I shrugged a little and he placed our hands on his chest again.

“Pray, continue.” He breathed, his voice barely above a whisper. I could not tell if it was anger, or sympathy that flavored his tone.

“‘Ight, So, mah family, I’h was raised in tha mountains of Garlemald, small village, one who worshiped ah primal I’h guess yah could say. Tha Garleans heard o us, dispatched a tangent of men ta murder us all. I’h was adopted by these people. I’h may have not been their blood but they, ta me where mine. This group o’men, they killed everyone. I’h even think they killed meh.” I frowned as I tried to focus on the hazy memory. I could not truly recall that day, just bullets tearing my flesh and then suddenly the one I believed should have killed me was no longer there.

“You died?” Thancred shifted sitting up to stare at me intently. Still laying on the bed I shrugged.

“I’h think. I’h dunno, it was cold and black, ‘n suddenly I’h was warm and hurting.” I looked at his face curiously trying to read the expression that he had on his face. I couldn't so I just continued my story. “Tha was when I was a wee child, sweet babe of twenty winters.”

“And Viera live quite a long time.” Thancred muttered. “How long ago was that now?”

“Ah,” I raised a hand to rub my chin. “I’m ‘round sixty winters now? I’h think? Maybeh more, lotsa that time is lost ta me cause of mah anger.” Thancred was quiet. His eyes carefully watching me. I frowned, “Thancred, yah gotta tell me wha your thinkin, I have big ears for hearin, I cant read yah mind.”

His face broke out into a tender smile before he sighed, raising his hands in a shrug. “I was just thinking you are quite older than me. And here I thought I was robbing a cradle.”

I laughed, “I’h am a babe in terms of mah kind though apparently! So yeh may not be far off.” I reached up letting my fingertips graze his arms. He laughed and leaned forward wincing a little but falling onto my breast, snuggling into my shoulder. To us, the world around us had faded away and it was just our cot.

“Continue Swath.” He asked shifting so that he could gaze at my face as I spoke. I smiled.

“Aye, well, I’h wandered ah lot afta that. Lived in tha wild. Stayed away from aether heavy areas..”

“Because of these correct?” He lifted on eof my arms and gently fingered a shimmering blue bump on my grey skin.

“Aye, aetheryte crystals.” I twisted my arm in his grasp to show off the many that speckled my skin like freckles. “Got’em when I was fifteen winters? Was protectin, or attemptin to, protect a town from a Garlean attack. They blew up the aetheryte while I was right next ta it, nearly killed me.”

Thancred sighed. “You have almost perished a lot, Swath.”

“Aye well.” I shrugged. “I’h lived a dangerous life till I’h came to the Scions ironically. Yeh have to thank for savin mah hide from more danger.” Thancred grunted a response and I sighed. “Well, mah history isn't much more than that, yeh found me at tha lowest point in mah life pulled me from the brink an gave meh ah purpose.”

“And then you became the Warrior of Light, a hero at the beck and call of all who need him.” Thancred murmured laying his head back down on my chest, he sighed. “Ironic indeed.”

“Eh, I got ta meet yah and everyone. I dun mind it. I’h am happy.” I reached up and stroked his dirt caked hair. “Though, I do miss yah long hair. An tan.”

Thancred laughed, then winced. “Ah, do not make me laugh so. I did not have any control over the appearance of my soul.” I sighed.

“Aye, but tha tan, it had lines in such nice places.” On top of me Thancred weakly pounded my shoulder.

“Enough you.” He chided.

As I was about to open my mouth a small blur of white appeared in the corner of my eye. I turned and smiled. “Ah sweet little child, yeh return.” Thancred laungly turned to look at her, who was blushing furiously.

“Ah-ah did I interrupt something?! I’m sorry!!” She squeaked then ran off before either of us could say anything.

“We should.. Go tell her it is okay.” Thancred murmured.

I chuckled, “Aye, but then, ta my quarters. I demand more of this. Its been ah while.”

“Yeah yeah,” With a smack to my shoulder Thancred winced but stood and grabbing his breastplate waited for me to stand with him and grab my things so that we could chase after the little Oracle.

#ffxiv fanfiction #ffxiv fanfic #wol x thancred #Carrying you [wolxthancred]#thancred x wol #thancred waters #ffxivwrite2019 #wolverse #thancred x oc #oc x thancred #giving my first real ship some fucking LOVE #hello yes i am a dirty shipper

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djgamek1ng · 5 years ago

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PLD LEVEL 80 STORY RAGE [FFXIV] RANT

So it has been a while since ShB came out. I’ve gotten all my tanks to level 80, did all of the job quests and oh boy I have some stuff to talk about. Since this is a rant post as you can see by the title, I’m just gonna put this out there: I’m gonna be swearing in this post. I’m probably gonna be swearing a lot. If you don’t like that or don’t like anger/negativity in general, you should probably skip this post (aka, don’t click “Read more”) even though I will be raising some more legitimate criticisms and how to improve one of the tank’s stories... no shuddup, the title totally doesn’t give it away.

Also, on another note, I will be posting my impressions of each of the tanks later. Hopefully somewhere this weekend, but no promises. I have a lot to talk about and I wanna cover it well.

Also also, spoiler warning. I will probably spoil some stuff though I will try to be vague about it.

Okay, let’s start with some positivity first. Some happiness if you will and so we shall start with what in my opinion is undoubtably the best level 80 story of the tanks: Dark Knight. All of the 80 job quests are really short, but still give a decent story. I hope next expac we do get a bit more, even if they decide to just go with the one job quest route again.

Anyway, DRK’s level 80 story quest... holy fuck. I was not prepared. This only re-affirms it for me: the DRK story has no right to be only just a job quest story. It honestly feels like it should be part of the MSQ. So TL;DR for this quest: you go to Sidurgu to check in on him and Rielle. Sidurgu hands you a letter from an unknown sender. You go to find out who the letter is from through a slightly long fetch quest, though you do get to re-meet people from the DRK quest of the previous expacs. Eventually you come by the person who send it, the person that ridiculed you for ruining the wares he asked you to return to him. He feels sorry about it and wanted to thank you (which is what the letter was about btw) and tells you the story of how life went for him after that (not well until recently). He hands you a flower to give to someone, though it is more suiting for a funeral or a farewell. You go off to be brooding and there appears your darkside. You exchange some words with them and then return back to Sidurgu. This honestly felt really powerful and in fact, was the second time I had to wipe away a tear or two from my face this expansion. I have done it no justice and I implore you to at least look it up on YouTube, but preferably you do it yourself. Even though it was just 1 pretty short quest, this was hands down the best tank job story this expac. Even the entirety of the GNB story doesn’t come close.

Onwards to second place: WAR. The WAR story this time around was pretty nice. Not as deep or feeling provoking, but just... nice.

TL;DR: Curious Gorge can’t take it anymore and wants to know if Dorgono (the female Auri WAR from the SB story) loves him the same way he does with her. He wants to travel to the Far East. Coincidentally, Dorgono and her dad come to Eorzea. Drogono’s dad, Luvsan, wants to repay us for helping Dorgono control her inner beast. He repays us by making a medicine (which is a placebo) which allows Broken Mountain to train as a WAR once more. Afterwards, Luvsan returns to the Azim Steppe but leaves Dorgono behind to train more (and fall in love, which was his first intent in Eorzea to begin with). Oh and Curious Gorge freaks out and thinks that the WoL and Dorgono are in love with each other because they smiled at each other. Dorgono knocks some sense into him, since she isn’t in love with us but someone else (no points if you guess right).

And that was WAR’s story. Simple, funny, effective and heartwarming. I actually really liked it and it was my favorite tank job story before I leveled DRK. Overal, pretty good! GNB. Well, probably the 2nd weakest tank job story but even then, this is honestly pretty good. I will only summarize the 80 story to the others. TL;DR: after having trained under the last Gunbreaker out there, Radovan, and having saved the First, you return to him. You tell him your story, especially about another Gunbreaker being out there named Thancred. He’s confused since he doesn’t know Thancred and he didn’t train him. You go on a fetch quest on a trail for someone that looks a lot like Radovan and uses the same kind of weapon. It turns out, Radovan isn’t the last Gunbreaker out there as others of his home place have survived and the trail we picked up was of Rostik, another Gunbreaker. After it, you return back to Mor Dhona and are happy to know that the art of Gunbreaking isn’t about to be lost. Again, like the DRK story, I didn’t do it much justice and with the context of the 60-70 GNB quests it becomes a lot more interesting. Still very nice. I would personally say it is a bit weaker than WAR, but that is because I have grown to care about the people in the WAR quest for longer. PLD... UGH. TL;D-FUCKING-R; You go to Jenlyns. Jenlyns is worried about Mylla, the head of the gladiator guild. You got to Mylla. She is worried about Aldis, the wandering bum. Speaking of him, he walks inside the gladiators guild to show of his samurai skills. He challenges you to a duel. You get ready to fight and he sees how much strong you have become. You say it is because of you have things to protect. The duel ends with Aldis giving up before it began. You and Mylla go back to the gladiator guild. Aldis steps in and asks if he can stay. Mylla goes all tsundere (ugh) and allows him to stay. You fuck off and do literally anything else.

UGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. WHY. THERE WAS ONE REALLY COOL THING. ALDIS SEEING HOW STRONG YOU GOT BY SEEING AN AURA AROUND YOU. THIS HAS SO MUCH POTENTIAL BUT NOOOOOOOOOOO. FUCK THAT, WE NEED TO HAVE THIS ROMANCE PLOT BETWEEN TWO CHARACTERS OF THE FUCKING GLADIATOR STORYLINE. YEAH, THAT IS SO MUCH BETTER. NO NEED TO EXPLAIN HOW THE PLD POWERS ARE EVEN A THING OUTSIDE OF TRAINING (WHICH LITERALLY EVERY FUCKING JOB HAS TO DO BTW), NO NEED TO SHOW US THAT WE SAVE PEOPLE AND DO ALL THIS KNIGHTLY/PALADINY SHIT OUTSIDE OF THE GODDAMN MSQ. NOOOOOOOO, THAT WOULD MAKE FOR AN ACTUAL GOOD FUCKING STORY LINE INSTEAD OF THIS BULLSHIT. GOD FUCKING DAMMIIIIIIT! AAAAAAAAAAAAAA- *insert static screen here* sigh As you can no doubt tell by everything that I just typed, I am slightly upset at the PLD story. It had one really neat thing going for it, something that could make it feel more like a Paladin/Knight story (need I remind you, in JP PLD is called Knight). Instead however, anything interesting gets brushed aside because “well, the MSQ covers it already. Nevermind that the fucking WAR, DRK and GNB stories do show us protecting stuff in their respective quests”. Hell, wanna know the biggest slap in the face? We got a really good PLD story. It just wasn’t part of the PLD story. Instead it was inside of the tank role quests where we got to see more of Branden (the PLD inside the Warriors of Darkness group) and his past. It was amazing and honestly heartbreaking, since it didn’t have a great ending for Branden but he still did what he had to do. The biggest problem for me since SB is that the PLD story has just become a continuation of the Gladiator storyline and I’m happy for the people that really like Aldis and Mylla, but I’m so fucking bored of those two. At least with Curious Gorge and Dorgono you know that the two are actually in love with each other and that they will finally be able to be together, even if for now it is only to train together. With Mylla and Aldis... Aldis just does not give off that he has any interest in Mylla while Mylla is obviously in love with him but doesn’t want to admit it since “oooh, let’s have a tsundere character”. SERIOUSLY. DO ANYTHING WITH THEM. Aldis comes to the conclusion to ask if he can stay with the gladiator’s guild because of us admitting that we have something to protect now (WHICH BTW, IT ISN’T STATED EXPLICITLY WHAT WE HAVE TO PROTECT NOW AND HAS TO BE GAINED OUT OF THE FUCKING MSQ) and that is why we became that strong. Okay, so how would I rank them? DRK >>> WAR => GNB (WAR overal was better, but GNB is pretty close to it) >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> PLD.

Now, since I don’t want to be only negative, how about some ways to improve the PLD story? Honestly, it is very simple: make it similar to the DRK one, only with a brighter, more optimistic tone compared to the DRK’s more somber and pessimistic tone. Think of Superman and Batman: one is about needing to save the world while being a beacon of hope for the world, the other is about dragging the world back from the brink and being pessimistic/realistic about everything. An example: let’s say someone important to the job story dies in a battle. The PLD would mourn them, but still continue to fight the good fight and rally their (potentially) allies. The DRK would mourn them and instead go fucking nuts on whoever killed their ally. Either would be able to go for vengeance, but it wouldn’t be on the PLD’s to-do list while it becomes the only thing on the DRK’s to-do list.

That’s just my idea on it though. Could obviously be better written than I could ever do, but it would work honestly. Anyway, I think I’ll wrap it up here. I’m glad that 3 out of the 4 tank stories was good, but I’m really pissed of at that 1 out of the 4 that isn’t good. Thank you for reading. Sorry for the swearing, but I had to get it off my chest.

#FFXIV #ffxiv story #ffxiv shadowbringers #ffxiv tank stories #ffxiv rant

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