#my wol is so hopeless you have no idea

[miriael-the-cozy-witch]

Fear the Reaper, Part 3

This is part 3 of how my WoL made their pact with their voidsent, and became a reaper! I hope you enjoy it! Click here for Part 1! Click here for Part 2! Click here for Part 4! The scythe should've been heavy.

It was a huge chunk of metal, weighty and thick, at the end of a heavy oak handle almost as tall as I was. I should've had to use leverage to wield it, much like I'd done with farming and harvesting in my botanist work.

But no. That wasn't... right.

It felt natural in my grip, light as a feather. Almost lighter than my sword, which should've been impossible.

My sword had been at my side for over two years... and now it felt foreign in my grip, it's weight unfamiliar as it dangled on my hip. It felt... unthinkable that the weapon that felled Zenos, then again as Shinryu, felt like holding a writhing snake.

How it'd become this... thing that I hated to touch... I didn't know.

The moment I got back to Gridania from Ul'dah, I wanted to toss it aside. Hang it up, give it the rest I so desperately wanted. Gods knew it deserved it. 

As much as the scythe on my back felt amazing to use, I was still more familiar with my blade. I would not give up on it so easily. 

I would keep both weapons at the ready.

For now.

I walked back through Gridania's mossy paths, my boots putting soft steps onto it's grass covered streets. I wanted to look at the people, my friends and neighbours, look to them for hope... But I was barely able to notice anything other than the tug, pulling me towards... Something.

The faces Gridania's citizens eyed me warily as I marched past, a few examining the weapon on my back with fear and awe.

It wasn't the first time I'd been seen in my home city with strange new weapons, in fact it was seen as almost to be expected. An Astrologian's globe, a white mage's cane, a warrior's axe, a black mage's staff. All these and more I had mastered.

But always, always there was a sword at my hip.

But never before, experimenting with new soul crystals and weapons and combat styles... did my blade feel like a broken limb.

It felt like...

My lance.

I imagined the most elder of Gridania's citizens, who remembered the first time I'd been seen without a spear or lance on my back. The panic on their faces.

At least then then there'd been a very obvious reason for the change.

The bandages over my eye.

Little did they know that I'd suffered similar damage. It just wasn't to my body, it was to my soul.

Alone with my thoughts as I strode quietly through Gridania, heading out Blue Badger Gate for the wilds of the Shroud, I latched onto the feeling of of the pull in the core of my being, using it to avoid remembering Zenos and his voidsent in the snows.

I'm here. I have this feeling. This urge. I need to follow it. Then I will never again be vulnerable. My strength will not falter.

Concentrating on breathing, I avoided the stares of the Wood Wailers at the gate, beginning my journey through the Jadeite Thick.

If this were any other day, it'd almost be a pleasant journey. But uneasiness seemed to simmer in the forest. The very trees irked with worry and anxiety. I could tell that the Final Days were wearing upon the Elementals, my training under E-Sumi-Yan had long taught me the method of listening to their moods. I could never hear what they said, that was left to the Padjal, but their displeasure on worry was as easy to translate as breathing.

Despite the Final Days and the displeasure of the Elementals, the sun was daring to gleam through the leafy canopy above, showering the forest floor in glorious beams of light, dying everything a warm orange glow. A breeze shuffled the branches, a ruffling of leaves audible for malms, as birdsong echoed all around.

It was peaceful. Lovely even.

Part of me wanted to sit and let it's beauty fill my weary soul.

But then who would save it? Who will fight the horrors so that every other soul who walks this same path may continue to do so?

I closed my one good eye, stopped, and listened to the balm of the forest. For any of my gods to tell me that I could lay down my arms. That I'd done enough already for the world. 

But there was nothing. No voice in my head telling me I was free to enjoy life.

Not yet.

I breathed in this glorious moment for just a few more breaths, and then with a heavy sigh, squared my shoulders and marched forward.

The Soul Crystal's pull guided my way.

Through Jadeite Thick, over Bentbranch, and into the Southern Shroud, I met the swampy marsh of Rootslake, it's waters smelling of rotting wood and life. Morbils, Orobons and all sorts of creatures thrived in these pools. 

I walked along it's shores, seeing Camp Tranquil rise out of the centre, with the ruins of Amdapor beyond it. The Elementals had long since hidden the lost city away, but had given me access to clear a void cult before. But we weren't going to the city.

Where the pull was leading me now fairly obvious, as I turned north from Rootslake into Snakemolt, the stone ruins rising out of the woods, the stone skeleton of a lost civilization presenting my destination.

Amdapor Keep.

The great stone doors had long since been opened, first by yet another void cult, followed shortly by my own efforts half a lifetime ago, and then again months later when it turned out a stronger void monster had orchestrated it all.

The monsters I slayed in this hall were the very reason I thought Voidsent to be mindless creatures, only capable of grasping hunger, the screeches of the terrorized starving.

Never had I seen them hold back like the spirit in the passage had. A moment of stomping through the undergrowth made me realized that very passage was likely below my feet right this moment.

And now... I held a void-touched Soul Crystal In my hand, used by generations of Reapers, in search of... What?

What was I even looking for?

How do I find a Voidsent that won't attack me on sight?

Without a better plan, I passed into the Keep, with only the tugging feeling as my guide.

The halls of the Keep were still as they were the last time I was here, years ago. Greenery overtaking the stone, the keep disappearing into the forest one brick at a time. It would be an effort of ages, but one day, this keep would be nothing but dirt under the ground.

The only evidence of it's recent occupation was the remains of my battles through it's halls. The scaring of blades and magic against the walls, a pile of bones from a long decayed corpse here, a dark splotch of blood-stained floor there.

It was gruesome, but not the worst I'd seen. I remembered the cultists here, and how they'd sacrificed their bodies and pets, summoning voidsent with their dying breaths, putting them in statues to throw at us. Cursing our names with the invocation of their fake god, the moon that served as Bahamut's prison.

I shook my head in pity as I stalked through the halls, the beginnings of a rainstorm pitter-pattering on the stone ceiling above, making waterfalls in miniature cascade through long failed roof tiles, became a calming balm in my own anxiousness.

I was close to my goal. Or at least, assumed I was. It was obvious where I was being led, and like a dutiful canine hound, I followed it's leash knowing my reward was close at hand. 

Stepping over rubble and jumping gaps between failed overhangs, I found myself mounting the stairs to what passed for Amdapor Keep's throne room. If I remember correctly, the Amdaporians called it a 'The Presence Chamber'. I didn't care then about what 'presence' it denoted then, and I didn't know if I did now. I knew it only as the chamber in which I'd murdered Anantaboga. 

As I neared the doors, the tug cutting through the fog in my mind grew in strength, the feeling undeniable. I mounted the last step, taking in the great carved entryway, I shoved aside the great doors...

And felt a jolt of the tug, pulling me inside.

I all but stumbled into the room, catching my feet in a rush before standing up to see what had pulled me with such force.

And saw nothing.

The room was empty, almost just as I'd left it, years ago.

Rubble in every corner, the ruin of statues that had been possessed by voidsent, the throne sitting almost pristine, only a few chunks of stone missing from it's plinth.

Cracked and broken glass windows in the dome above and behind it, letting in more of the forest, eager for the keep's removal.

Yet there was nothing, no one here.

As I stepped into the middle of the chamber, the exact spot where Anantaboga died... Even the tug disappeared.

Feeling suddenly untethered, I seethed, twisting my head towards every corner, looking in vain for the creature that had called me here.

"Where are you?" I asked through gritted teeth, my hand straying to my sword.

The only sound that answered me was the echoing fall of rain, running in a rivulet through a hole in the roof above.

"Answer me!" I screeched. Twisting in a circle, searching.

My eye scanned every rock, every stone, every chair. But there was nothing here.

Wherever the creature was... It was gone. 

There was nothing, no one, waiting for me here.

And I...

I'm not strong enough.

My breath caught in my throat, as my eye landed on the plinth of the throne. My heart began to rage in my chest, and my anger fizzled out for something worse.

Defeat.

Failing here... Meant I would never be stronger than Zenos. He would cut me down, just as he had then. If Fandaniel didn't wrench my soul out of my body-

No. No no no no. I'm not there, I won't die, he wouldn't-

But I will. It's inevitable.

My legs fell out from underneath me, as I sank to my knees in the middle of the chamber, the rain a dull roar overhead. 

"Please..." I murmured, the beginning of sobs clenching in my throat, as I grasped the loose dirt before me in some vain hope of... something here to change my fate.

"I just need... " I pleaded, still unsure what I was even asking. "Please."

"Oh. Just say it... Say 'please', just, one more time darling."

I jumped to my feet, a serviceable backward dash, my reflexes expecting an attack. Mid-air, drawing my blade out, lifting it into a Meikyo Shisui guard stance as my instincts took over.

Once I landed solidly on my feet, my eye focused, my head twirled, my ears perked, all searching for the speaker.

"Show yourself." I demanded, my voice steady, yet still with a hint of the broken sob I'd just silenced.

"Now where would be the fun in that, darling?" The voice replied. Sultry, smooth, delicious to listen to.

But also, right there.

Duskwight Elezen ears never failed. We had to listen for the tiniest reverberations through tunnel walls when we lived in Gelmorra. The instinct to listen had only intensified once I'd lost half my vision.

The voice was speaking from the throne. And once my eye knew to look there... A dull shimmer hovered around it. An illusion magic of some kind.

I shifted my stance ever so slightly... 

And sliced through the air, upwards with enough force and charged aether, to cut through the distance, a sharp angry blade of energy angling towards my unseen foe.

A textbook Enpi slash.

In less than a second, the cut crashed into the throne, separating stone from rubble, a loud crash of blade on rock as if I'd cut it myself from a foot away.

I'd expected a direct hit, a gruff of pain.

But all I heard was laughter.

It was... I didn't know how to describe it. Like if laughter had a taste. It was sweet and sticky... warm even. Like hot apple cider, fresh from an orchard.

"My darling, you are perfect."

"Show yourself." I demanded of the unseen voice, my eye locked onto the shimmer around the throne. "If I have to ask again, it'll be with my boot on your neck."

The voice intoned a disappointed sigh, before the shimmer dissipated in a slow wave, revealing a humanoid figure, covered in wrappings and swirling shadow.

Deep red eyes, staring out from the inscrutable darkness, a solid figure somehow sitting in that void of light.

The same eyes I'd seen in the passage below.

How did I miss them?

They stood from the throne, almost floating to their feet. It was hard to make out details of their person, but I could only assume they were a voidsent of some kind. They had to be for those glowing red eyes. And slowly, as if sauntering, they began to step over the rubble.

"You've been, such a pleasure to watch over the years, Miriael Vess."

My entire body shifted taut as I heard my name on their lips. My stomach dropped, as if i was falling from a great height. Somehow... Someway... it felt... right.

 "You know my name?" I asked, shifting my weight ever so slightly with each step she took to get the best angle of attack. My hands wanted to lurch the scythe on my back free, but this was no time to test new weapons with an unknown threat.

Especially one that had gotten so under my skin.

The creature laughed, it's silent steps getting closer with each passing second, my grip tightening around the handle of my blade.

"Know you? Ha." A small breathless laugh. As light as air, somehow robbing the room of all the noise from the rainstorm above. There was nothing else in my focus but the blade in my hand and her approaching figure.

"I would think that a joke. You are, without a doubt, the most famous woman in the world, Miriael Vess." they outstretched a hand to point towards me- No.

That's not a hand.

That's a claw.

It resembled a hand at first, a delicate wrist bound in crisscrossing grey wrappings, a smattering of smooth pale skin underneath. But as the wrist widened into their palm, their fingers elongated into talons, shifting from pale looking human skin to almost black needlepoints, dipped in the colour of blood.

That thing, that claw, was only meant for slaughter.

They stopped in their advance, as if seeing their claw for the first time.

"Ah yes. I do forget the Source's obsession with... appearances." They intoned, and with a flex of their fingers, the talons retreated into her palm in an instant, shifting into long nailed fingers wiggling in a wave, the nails painted black and red.

The eyes in the mass of hidden wrappings and shadows flashed, somehow looking amused. "Should I do the whole outfit as well? I do want us to get off on the best foot after all."

And with a snap of those pale fingers, the shadows melted into nothing, showingfor the briefest of moments a tall muscular woman covered in those wrappings from neck to foot, criss-crossing every inch of her body, hints of skin here there pockmarked everywhere. I barely got a flash of white hair around her head before the wrappings around their frame glowed in red hued magic... Shifting her whole frame shifted from shadow-clad creature of the void, to...

The most beautiful woman I'd ever seen.

My eye widened in surprise as heat rushed to my cheeks.

She stepped forward out of the transformation, the only hint of the creature she glowed red in the irises of her eyes. 

She looked at me with a painted smile set into a knowing smirk, with a pale face and dark lashes. A mane of black hair down her back, covering what almost looked to be an oddly designed duster, covering a flimsy looking dress shirt of some kind with a generous plunging neckline. 

Looking at her now, there was almost no way to tell she was of the 13th.

"What do you want creature?" I muttered through gritted teeth, nearly spitting the words as my fingers tightened around my blade's hilt. I would not let her appearance dissuade the danger I knew she posed.

She paused, just a step away. I could cut her down right this moment. But as she pouted her lips at me, the sight stirred a rumble of longing in the pit of my stomach as she tapped her chin.

I didn't cut her down.

"Dearest, really. We can get to that after." She suggested. "Because we both know you're here because you want something."

I wanted to deny her. To tell her she was wrong in a million and one ways.

But I couldn't. It would be a lie.

She began walking again, but not towards me. She began to circle, looking at nothing in particular, continuing to tap her chin with a dainty fingernail.

I slowly twisted in place with her as she circled, always keeping the threat in front of me. My eye glued to her hands, watching for threats from those claws, and not the sway of her hips. 

"But to.. exactly answer your question, I've been keeping track of you ever since you murdered my mother." Her eyes flashed towards me, either appreciative, or angry. I wasn't sure which.

My nose flared as I let out a surprised huff, but didn't shift in my stance. She could attack at any moment.

"Your mother?" I asked, every muscle tense for the inevitable aggression that I expected of her kind.

Her nod was slow as she paced, the click of her boots seeming to be the only noise I could hear with how concentrated I was on her every move.

"Before you get the wrong idea, I was glad you dethroned her. I hated the old hag. It stirred up everything back home, players long waiting made their moves the moment you dissipated her to reconstitute herself."

Her eyes took in the walls of the keep, the draining holes from the storm above, before she laughed quietly to herself.

The way she explained it, there could only be one. The only time I'd ever slain a voidsent in the 13th... The only place where Voidsent could regenerate...

"The Cloud of Darkness." I murmured under my breath.

Her eyes flashed with recognition.

"You catch on quick." she said with a pleased smile that left me wanting to do nothing but see it again. "But yes. I've been watching you grow, becoming stronger and stronger ever since." 

She closed the distance in a blink of my eye, suddenly her face inches from mine, the point of her fingers at my throat.

I didn't dare move. Not with her blades for fingers at my throat.

Her mouth opened ever so slightly, as if she was debating to bite donw on my neck... 

But instead, she closed her eyes, and inhaled.

"And for your efforts... You are delicious." She whispered, her breath not hot like a person's would be, but cold. As it shuddered against my ear lobe it forced my skin to rise in goosebumps. 

Yet another blink of my eye, she disappeared, the point of her nail at my throat gone.

Instincts took over as I stabbed at the place she'd been.

If she was the daughter of the Cloud of Darkness... 

She was powerful.

So why isn't she attacking?

My eye caught a flicker of movement on the throne where she'd reappeared. 

She settled back onto it, crossing her legs over the arm of one side, leaning onto her hand on the other.

"Which brings us to the moment of truth, my darling." She murmured, beckoning me with an outstretched finger.

I didn't want to move. But if it meant I got answers... about Zenos. About Fandaniel. About becoming stronger then them both...

I took a single step forward.

"You've plateaued."

Her words, while still tasting of warmth and welcome, cut like ice dripping down the back of my spine.

"You are as powerful as you will ever be. Blessed by the Echo, by the Twelve, you've absorbed the eyes of dragons, and you've even merged your soul with of one of your reflections." She listed these details of my life as if ordering from a menu. 

"You are, the most powerful being on the planet." She said longingly, licking her painted lips.

I took another step, a grimace on my face as she listed my truth to the gallery of silent stone and forest.

"And yet."

The bite of her tone was cold in it's knowing. "Your opponents are not of this world. They've made their own bargains and transcended limits, possess abilities long forgotten to history. They, are stronger."

The stones shifted under my feet as I stepped onto the dias of the throne, now just a few steps from where she sat with all the grace of a entertained queen.

"So, what, do you want Miriael Vess?" She asked as she sat up, as if she hadn't just outlined why I'd sought her out in the first place.

She leaned forward towards me with outstretched hand, making me feel a supplicant to the crown, begging for scraps. "What, can I," She pulled back her hand, patting her chest with the faintest of taps. "daughter of the void, do for you?"

This is it, isn't it? This is what I must do.

With a exhale of breath I was sure I'd been holding ever since I stepped inside this ruined keep, I finally dropped my guard, the sword now hanging loosely in my grip.

I almost didn't care anymore. 

I closed my eye to her, letting my head fall back in silent defeat.

The memory biting in my mind's eye was enough for me to admit it. Grasping through the cold snow and the biting frost with long dead hands, crawling back to my friends where Zenos used my own body to murder them...

If this is what it takes to save them...

"I... I need..." I stuttered out, almost unable to admit it to the world. I opened my eye, staring at the ceiling, almost feeling the burning in it at the beginning of tears.

"I need to be stronger. Stronger than anything. I need... to have enough strength to save them all."

I shuddered, gripping the blade in my hand, cursing my next words with fire and fury as I lowered my gaze towards the voidsent smiling in the throne before me.

"Because... I'm not... strong enough." I had to force the words through gritted teeth. the blade shaking in my hand.

A softer expression grew on her face, as she let out her own sigh.

She began to stand, and while my instincts told me that she was a threat, a monster, a voidsent, I did nothing. I didn't raise my blade to her.

Instead, as I stood there, facing my own admission of weakness, she reached forward, her delicate fingers just barely tracing along my jaw, a thumb rubbing my cheek just under my eyepatch.

It wasn't... unpleasant.

Gods. If I'm thrilled at getting touched like this by a fucking voidsent, then it's been too long since I've been laid.

"My dearest. I'm so sorry that you've held this weight. But I'm so glad, so so glad, that I have an answer for you."

She smiled, a full smile, as I brought my gaze to look her in the eyes, as her expression mixed from pity to excitement to joy. This, was the moment of her ascension, I was sure.

How long had she'd been waiting in the wings for me to seek her bargain? How many years? She'd said just as much. Watching me ever since I'd killed her mother. That was... a lifetime ago.

And now, here she was, offering me the very thing I needed most.

And with this... They'll all be safe.

"Make the fucking offer then." I muttered, a demand as solid as the stone beneath our feet.

She lowered her hand, but didn't pull it back all the way. Now it was there as an outstretched handshake.

"Make a Pact with me Miriael Vess, and I will make you not just the strongest woman in all of the Source and it's Reflections..." She said with a sharp toothed smile, her voice tasting like a drop of honey after decades of drowning in salt water.

"I'll make you the stronger than the gods."

[zylphiacrowley]

/falls into your inbox

6 PLEASE!!!!!!!!!! (for x'vahl)

For Pre-Dawntrail WoL questions!

OH HOHOHOHOHEHEHEHEHEEHEHEEE! Okay! (this is going to be long because this is my wheelhouse and it's my favorite thing to write/create content about... in case that wasn't abundantly obvious by now)

6. how does your wol feel about romance? are they a hopeless romantic, waiting for The One, or are they more casual? do they believe in soulmates?

X'vahl is, at his core, a hopeless romantic wrapped in layers of fear and anxiety caused by past failed relationships (mostly one specific past failed relationship that broke something inside him so bad that he still hasn't fully healed from it). He thought he had found The One when he was 19 until everything went very bad very quickly and he got extremely depressed about it for a long time (This is the whole thing with M'likki and his kids that I feel like I mention a lot). After that he would end up in his first casual relationship with the co-captain of the ship he boarded for Thavnair in his early 20s (this is also when he realized he was bisexual). He actually didn't intend for it to be as casual as it was, since the idea of a casual relationship hadn't really crossed his mind before that point but he was also feeling super guarded still and wasn't ready to commit his heart to another person. It helped that Zhen (the aformentioned co-captain of the ship) basically laid it all out for him that as soon as they made port at Radz-at-Han, X'vahl had to disembark and that would be the end of what they had going on. It ended up working out for the both of them, and honestly it probably helped X'vahl since they ended on mutually agreed upon terms and not, you know, a complete disaster heartbreak (fun fact: Zhen is also the person who first put the idea of becoming a bard into X'vahl's head). When he was living in Radz-at-Han he fully embraced the idea of the casual relationship and had a bunch of casual encounter with different people with a strict "no-strings attached" rule. He never felt a sense of fullfillment from any of his relationships at that time, but he also didn't worry about having his heart shattered again and he was content to coast along like that. Of course, he eventually left Radz-at-Han to return to Eorzea where he got caught up in Scion and WoL business shortly after and the idea of any sort of relationship sort of fell by the wayside because he suddenly had Much Bigger Problems:tm:

All of that leads up to now! The star is safe, he finally has a chance to breathe again for the first time in a long time, and when Tataru realized he was acting slightly different whenever he was around Erenville, or whenever someone mentioned him, she actually figured out he was harboring some feelings before he really even realized it… so she took matters into her own hands. Despite thinking they could just have a casual thing though, now X'vahl is suddenly wrestling with the fact that he's realized he not only has feelings, but he has them real bad and all that anxiety and fear that he thought was in the past has suddenly come back to hit him again and he's terrified about all the ways it could go wrong.

So uhhhhh, tl;dr: X'vahl is very much a hopeless romantic, he's not necessarily waiting for "The One" (even though he might've found him), he tried the casual thing and it was… alright he guesses, and he is undecided on if he truly believes in soulmates, but he finds the concept endearing.

Thank you for the ask my friend ~! �� This is completely my jam so I'm glad I got to answer this question for him. ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

[superfluouskeys]

i wave my wand & command u to speak on hopeless, a fic that has lived in my bookmarks for time immemorial.

ohhhhh thank youuu!!!  hopeless was my first wolgraha fic!  It was based on 10 kiss prompts that I decided to make loosely related and kind of flesh out a story for my WoL.  I was just going along cheerfully enjoying FFXIV until Shadowbringers but idk man several things about that part of the story just have my number on speed dial you know!  I was like okay I’m gonna have to write for this to get the rocks out of my brain, ergo I’m gonna have to actually develop an OC.

I pretty much made Adrienne specifically to ship her w/ G’raha so I find it extremely funny a. how quickly I became attached to her for her own sake and b. how I feel her chemistry w/ other characters developed since she was initially conceptualized to complement G’raha specifically LOL.  I previously had a hard time “bonding” with my own OCs and I feel this really marked a turning point in that regard where I was able to focus in on character ideas that really appealed to me enough to form that connection, if that makes sense.

There’s also like a huge gap in my AO3 works from March 2020 until January 2021 when I started writing for FFXIV.  I remember I kept wanting to say something about what I was going through at the time and how I was feeling about my writing and about writing generally, but anything I tried to say barely made any sense because I think I didn’t even know what was going on with me.  There was a period of time where I felt like maybe I just wouldn’t write anymore because I didn’t have it in me.  Nothing inspired me, and nothing I had been working on pre-pandemic even remotely appealed to me anymore.  I felt like it had been written by someone else.

In retrospect, it makes perfect sense, right?  But it was hard to understand the feeling from the middle of it.  And I didn’t want to be cold or disrespectful to the people who have loved my work over the years, but I also couldn’t find a good way of venting my frustration about how I was feeling, so I think I often ended up coming off that way despite my best intentions.

So my main goal in doing the kiss prompts was to not angst about them too much, to just get them done without much editing, and to write something fairly different from what I usually wrote in the past.  I felt like it would be a good challenge for me because as I mentioned I really love unresolved tension and agonizing slow burn, but I think maybe I love it too much LOL, so sometimes when it finally came time for the culmination of the tension I would freeze up because I had built it up so much that I was afraid the payoff wouldn’t be good enough!  Ten shortish prompts where they literally had to kiss felt like a perfect low-stress challenge to help shake my brain loose on this very specific issue, and for that reason I think it’s very sweet and pleasant to read where a lot of my other work is more fraught and angsty LOL.

I really don’t even know if this dialogue feels particularly in character, I was straight up just calling myself out for a laugh:

A dull terror is beginning to take root in her heart, the one that has borne the loss of countless others, the one that has already lost him twice over, and she searches her mind frantically for something to say, something that will keep her from spoiling the moment with things she can’t do anything about. “Is that your idea of a proper courtship?” she wonders, instead, trying at a teasing tone. G’raha looks up.  “Is it not to your liking?” he counters.  “If you’d prefer, I could go and sit across the room.” “You’ll do no such thing!”  Adrienne tightens her grip on him instinctively. G’raha’s grin widens, and his tone turns dramatic.  “Perhaps in a few months, our hands will brush, and I’ll write you a sad letter about it.” “I hate you so much.”  Adrienne laughs weakly, but she cannot bring herself to loosen her grip on him, lest he slip away from her yet again in her negligence. “I don’t think that’s true,” says G’raha pleasantly.

It’s funny, now that my life is like pretty normal and okay again, I’m back to mostly liking fraught and angsty things, but at the time I feel my personal life was so bad that I really needed sweet and pleasant in my escapism!

Fanfic Writer Director's Cut Ask Game!

[vixlenxe]

Hey, let's talk about one of the worst things to ever happened to Ivy, like this shit is up there on like one of the top 3, & that is the duty 'In From The Cold'. Or for those of you who don't play the game, it is simply known as the time Zenos bodyjacked her.

And when I say he 'bodyjacked' her, I don't mean this is like when a sineater is created, & the aether takes control, or she runs on the instincts of another. Ivy's soul was literally taken out of her body & put into a totally different body, some random, nameless, & most likely dead at the time, Garlean solider. And Ivy gets to watch with her own two eyes, as Zenos uses his 'artificial echo' to possess her body & then fucking teleport away with it; after he loudly declares he will use the WoL's incredibly powerful body to kill her friends & everyone at Camp Broken Glass.

Ivy is then stuck in the random, weak body, & is basically powerless to stop Zenos, if not for Fandaniel deciding he will give the WoL a chance too; if only for his own entertainment. He allows Ivy to fight her way through hordes of tempered Garlean solders to maybe have a chance of stopping Zenos. And this isn't like some fucking Anime MomentTM where, despite being in a different body, Ivy would still be as strong as she was in her normal body or have access to all her abilities. NOPE. Ivy's abilities & power is limited only to what the Garlean solders can do. She has three basic slashes, a offense buff, a defense buff & that's it. No magic, no healing, no outstanding agility, not any of the things that she is used to. So every fight she has to engage in is fucking brutal, it takes all her strength & it still takes all her energy out of her. She's not the Warrior of Light in this instance, she is just a normal person. She has been dragged down to the limits of a normal being. And despite almost dying a number of times, one time including coming so close to death that her sight went black, her heart beat slowed in her ears & she couldn't even pick her body up off of the ground, she still persevered. Ivy still dragged her body across the ground & crawled to Camp Broken Glass to stop Zenos, to protect those people, to protect her family, despite not a drop of strength being left in her.

Absolutely everything within her was pushed to it's limits. Hell, I say those limits were well past broken the moment she couldn't stand up anymore, but Ivy still grit her teeth & found a way to continue. In the face of utter hopelessness, Ivy still found a way, she is the Embodiment of Perseverance & Willpower. 'In From The Cold' is the greatest example of this to me, outside of Ultima Thule.

You should 100% watch this video by Stout Helm to get the full idea of all of the shit Ivy was made to go through during In From The Cold. It covers it better then I could & has all the details I brushed over. If you want to understand the pain Ivy went through then in truest detail, it is a must watch. My girl has been through so much.

[ainyan]

😤

More angst? Let's see, what's something I haven't posted before? Oh - so, this one is a little odd. It ties into the idea that the Warrior of Light has an aetherpool significantly deeper and more powerful than most, due to... well, WoL-Things. And that aetherpool responds to emotions. (It was written pre-Endwalker, or I might have followed a different path. In fact, I did, in a different story.) I like it, it's fun to write, I still work on it now and then.

Under the cut for length:

Outside, he had felt nothing. Inside, even he could feel the pressure of her aetherstorm, like the subtle sting of sunlight against sunburnt skin. Distantly, he could feel her emotions assaulting him, unable to find purchase through whatever blockage prevented him from accessing his own aether. Feelings of hopelessness and despair; of inadequacy and uselessness; of self-hatred and fear. He knew all too well these emotional burdens - it had been this same despondency that had made him ripe pickings to be subsumed by Lahabrea.

He even knew why she felt this way. He didn’t wonder if every Warrior of Light faced this self-same crisis as the next Calamity drew ever-closer - as events escalated ever further towards chaos and their every attempt to stem the crimson tide of war appeared more and more feeble. From the inside, one could not see the vast difference one woman could make on the course of history; she was too caught up in the fervor of the moment to step outside and see the hope and love and light that her very existence engendered within all of those thousands of myriad lives she touched.

He felt resistance in the very air as he stepped soundlessly across the room; her aether beating him back, finding no purchase but thickening the air so that he was walking through an almost tangible morass of her thoughts and memories. Gritting his teeth, he shoved his way past those festering feelings until he collapsed with a gasp to his knees beside her bed. He reached for one hand - a fist, clenched tightly and pressed against her eye - then paused, removing his gloves. Bare-handed, he closed his fingers about that fierce, tiny fist and drew it to him, tucking it beneath his chin. ��Kali,” he murmured.

“It’s my fault,” she sobbed. “Forgive me! Forgive me! You wouldn’t be here if I had just done my job! If I hadn’t meddled; if I hadn’t believed I was some chosen savior.”

He closed his eyes against the wrenching pain. He could hear, beneath the anguish, the ring of Memory in her voice; she did not speak of now, but of a then - one of a million myriad thens in which she fought against the minions of Zodiark, directly or indirectly. Briefly, he recalled similar moments from his past; Minfilia sobbing in his arms after being plagued by memories Echoing back to her from across time. “Kali,” he called again, rubbing his cheek against that tiny fist, tickling at her fingers with his thumb in a futile effort to coax them open.

“You’re hurt, you’re hurt, you’re hurt,” she hiccupped, and he felt her fingers spasm apart, felt them curve against his cheek even as a faint keen escaped her clenched teeth. “I should have been there; I took too long, I didn’t kill enough. Blood,” she whispered, and he felt her thumb shift, brushing along the corner of his mouth. “There’s still blood. I’m so sorry, so sorry. Thancred,” she breathed, and he closed his eyes.

So many times he’d bled for her, in her defense, in her shadow. As rogue, as bard, as gunbreaker, he’d stood at her side or before her, he’d taken hits for her, he’d faced down minor enemies as she’d engaged the greater. Which time had come spiralling back to her now? “The blood is gone now,” he murmured, and felt her thumb smooth along the corner of his mouth.

The keen sounded again. “It’s not, it’s not. Why didn’t they clean it?” Her thumb was gentle, trembling against his lips. “I’ll go. I’ll find her. She’s just scared. We both were; I hate it when you’re hurt. She thinks it’s her fault, but we both know it’s mine. It’s always mine,” she whispered.

Lakeland. There was no doubt now in Thancred’s mind when Kal'istae was. “You did everything you could,” he dissented, gripping her wrist to keep her from jerking her hand away from his face. “You heard the guard. Yes, we had grievous losses, but more lived than died, all thanks to you. And those who died did so fighting for something - for someone - they believed in. The Crystarium. The Exarch. You. You brought hope back to their lives.”

“That hope led them to their deaths,” she whispered. 

“That hope,” he countered, “led them to fight for a better future than what they had dreamed of before you came. And they found that future because you fought for them, you bled for them, you dreamed and hoped and lived for them. You did exactly the right thing, Kali; look beyond the now.”

She grew still, grew silent. Then, “I am doing my best. I just want it to be over.”

He closed his eyes, nestling his cheek into her warm palm. “So do we all.”

She gasped and sighed and he felt the pressure ease, then dissipate as her aether bled back into the Lifestream. He opened his eyes to see her staring at him with confused lavender-edged eyes. “Thancred? What are you doing here?” With a start, she realized she was cradling his face in her hand and snatched her hand back. He was surprised to see a violet blush suffuse her cheeks, her freckles standing out in stark relief against her darkened skin. “I’m sorry,” she stammered.

“Don’t be.” Settling back on his heels, he dropped his hand, resting his arms along his knees as he studied her with thoughtful citrine eyes. “Do you remember?”

Her brow furrowed, her gaze tracking up to the ceiling of her room. “I was… dreaming…” Her lip began to tremble. “Oh. Did I disturb you with my memories?”

Thancred considered how much to tell her. “Not your memories,” he finally replied, and she turned her gaze on him. “Your feelings. You started an aetherstorm.” The only time he’d hidden the truth from anyone was when it concerned his own feelings; he saw no reason to begin now. “But it’s passed now,” he added, reaching up to touch her hand where it lay along her covers. “Kali, you’re not alone.”

She swallowed. “I know.”

He shook his head. “I don’t think you do. We’re not just support on the battlefield. We’re your family. You’re a Scion, and that means that we’re here for you whenever you need. For whatever you need.”

A brief flash flickered in her eyes; a heated hunger that startled him even as she jerked her gaze from his, closing her eyes. He frowned inwardly, considering what he had seen even as she exhaled. “I know. It’s just… hard. I don’t want to be a burden when there are already so many on your shoulders.”

Send me an emoji for a snippet from one of my works!

Thank you for the ask!

[ferrocyan]

nvm im not gonna be able to sleep, so

im finding it so interesting to have the conflict about feral oversoul damaging and killing its practitioners bc like, personally the entire soul system has been ringing so familiar to me wrt wol and ardbert fusing their souls at the end of shb, and with that in mind oversoul corruption is a small jump away from how wol was also being corrupted by taking in light over the course of shb. its just so similar to me! esp since in fan content sin eater/lightwarden transformation of the wol is a very popular idea. eutropes circumstances feel like its an echo of shb wol in my mind

but the thing is, the wol didnt exactly know how their light corruption would turn out, and they had it solved for them even w/o their knowledge. the exarch had always planned to take on the light to save the wol, and idk abt other wols but at least for tart, she always felt assured that even if she were dying the exarch will save her. and when that failed ardbert saved the wol w his soul instead. but think about eutropes perspective: she has no such reassurance. theres no exarch for her bc the arcadia president is instead just straightforwardly letting his fighters die. the only hope she has is that eating the wols dense as fuck soul will save her. and she has her family to think about too, her sisters have no one else! she cant possibly die but its such a hopeless situation w no way out except murder!

this just hits for my wol right where it hurts. tart thought about no one but herself in shb and it was still a harrowingly desperate situation. let alone for eutrope who has family concerns. so now he chooses to become the exarch analogue for eutrope. someone who can maybe save her life by trading it with his own. no one actually wants for this to happen, least of all yaana despite being eutropes own sister, but its a light at the end of the tunnel. a possibility of hope in a hopeless situation. g'raha was tarts hope, so he will be that for eutrope. its only fair, right

also ghhhhgh her theory abt the cure for oversoul being having the wols dense, many times rejoined soul is so intriguingly close to the truth bc wols light corruption DID factually stop when theyre rejoined w ardbert like we know it works!! but how do we replicate this effect w/o doing a rejoining? i sincerely hope its gonna be something else other than the existing familiar usage method bc it would be so much less fun that way. im expecting to be disappointed bc that probably wasnt mentioned bc itll be featured in the next tiers story after all. but like, i want eutropes conflict w the wol to be meaningful, you know? and if the writers let me down i will pick up the slack myself. on purpose or not this story makes a rly compelling parallel to a huge part of the wols story and ill be damned if i dont make use of that

im so fucking obsessed w the arcadion storyline oh my god. i cant believe theyve done this

[autumnslance]

sadu or cirina for the character meme?

Give me a character and I’ll break them down: Sadu And Cirina

Cuz why not both?

Sadu

How I feel about this character:

She is so much fun, and not given nearly enough time in focus. The Dotharl are an interesting group, and Sadu herself has some really neat things to say. She stands on a balance of being a reasonable, responsible leader, yet flies laughing into battle with her clanmates, certain that even if they die now, they will be reborn--yet also knowing she has to keep enough of them alive in order to see those rebirths.

The game definitely sets her as Magnai's Nhaama, and equal in battle and ferocity--but she's far more mature and sure of herself than Little Sun Bro in a few ways--and just as immature in others. While he has an extremely romantic notion of how finding a partner ought to work, Sadu's so violently dismissive of it all she's missing opportunities she may regret later on.

Still think she was getting off a bit much on dueling the WoL and I needed an adult when we went off camera for Y'shtola's RP battle. Feel like WoL should have come back with a drink and cigarette, like dang lady.

All the people I ship romantically with this character:

The eternal trashy crack ship with Magnai. She'd rock his world (and the Dawn Throne by like, half an ilm), raid his liquor cabinet, and leave him stunned as she slipped out before morning, then never call him again.

Honestly though, there's a long way to go before those two come even close to meeting in the middle, so couldn't, and shouldn't, actually ever happen.

There's some option for Cirina in there too, actually; tsundere and sweet is always a nice pairing.

I dunno if I've ever actually seen any WoLships for Sadu, come to think of it.

My non-romantic OTP for this character:

I like that lorebook 2 mentions she and Cirina have actually become good friends; having strong lady friendships acknowledged is always a treat, and even platonically, the differences between them makes for a good shoring up of each others strengths and weaknesses, especially on the battlefield. And goodness knows the otherwise gentler Mol could use the allies.

My unpopular opinion about this character:

A part of me actually does kinda want to see her and Magnai get together, and I cannot explain the rhyme or reason why. Like it's a terrible idea, but it won't go away.

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon:

Just more of Sadu in general, but as a spiritual and political leader, not just her battle reveling side.

Cirina

How I feel about this character:

She's that sweet little sister type, but a lot of people forget she had to have passed Bardaam's Mettle herself, she created her own bow, and she leads the Mol's hunting and battle parties--and is pretty much our representative in charge of the Stepe since we won the Naadam and then buggered off.

Cirina's not just a sweet girly girl. She's a woman of the Steppe and can tear you apart if given good reason to--but she'll try to talk it out first. Her compassion is one of her strongest traits.

Her crush on Hien isn't entirely hopeless, but kami bless if she and the Doman prince aren't making things more difficult than necessary on poor Yugiri, who seems to ship it--or at least thinks Cirina could get Hien to unwind and take care of himself for once, with her gentle insistance.

I really do wish Cirina would stop trying to eat the Namazu though. They may be barely sapient but still count!

All the people I ship romantically with this character:

Hien. Lil' bit with Sadu.

Can't think of any WoLships I've seen with her.

My non-romantic OTP for this character:

Her friendship with Sadu, as above.

My unpopular opinion about this character:

She's mostly innocuous, if perhaps a bit too sweet and gentle for the Steppe and in contrast to everyone else we meet. Yes the Mol are set up as a gentle shepherd clan who usually don't take part in the Naadam, but she's almost painfully Proper Traditional Eastern Woman, in part to make her seem like ship bait for Hien and/or PCs, so feels a bit out of place among the other Steppe characters.

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon:

More interactions with her clanmates and grandmother; so many of Cirina's interactions are with us, but I want to see her more as the de facto leader, getting ready to take her grandmother's place as chieftain.

And on that, does she have Temulun's gifts of foresight and the ability to hear the gods so clearly? I wanna know.

[faelune-home]

FFXIV Write 2021 #21: Feckless

(a/n: Another quick rush to submit this, so there is definitely some clean up near the end of this I’ll have to do when I post this edited for ao3 XD

But I realised I hadn’t written a job specific piece yet all month, and I was reminded of some astro fluff I’d done last year, which I suppose is tentatively mentioned here? If you want to read that and more of my WoL’s job learning habits, it’s here; Shuffle

But yes, a mix of wanting to write job stuffs - Jannequinard being the feckless one here, the inspo for this piece - and maybe have a Scion meet a job trainer, in this case Alphi. Which def makes me want to add another section to this given the trainers in question...but that’s for later edits, I already rushed this greatly aha.

Also, after sticking to using Fhara to refer to my WoL, and sticking to such situations where people would only know her as that, I finally got to try using “Fufu” as an adventuring alias with a crowd that would only know her as that. Finally representing the idea I’ve long had now. XD

Set after 3.2 and all that happened then. This is kind of taking my WoL’s penchant for taking on extra jobs more for the experience than to dedicate entirely to it, but then mixing that with her desire to do more to help her companions when she feels rather hopeless and lost.

Word count: 2006)

The air in Ishgard was tense following the failed peace conference in Falcon’s Nest, with uneasy whispers filling the cobbled streets and nervous glances to the skies. Alphinaud could scarcely blame the people for their wariness, having heard Nidhogg’s warning for himself. So set on revenge, he had even renounced his own kin, set on having the blood of Ishgardian and dragon alike to stain the land. And Estinien would be the one to administer the attack, against whatever will he would still possess.

The sight of his friend in such a state, the prone body of Vedofnir beneath him, skewered on his lance, had chilled Alphinaud at the time, and even still to recall it. Alongside the image of Aymeric, primed with a bow, ready to shoot his own comrade without hesitation...were it not for Nidhogg’s timely departure, that would be another companion sacrificed in the name of war.

In amongst his tormented memories of that calamitous day, he recalled Fhara’s conflicted expression. In amongst the rising roars and jeers of a hungry crowd, they were in their own bubble where not a word was said, only the share looks of pained terror at the turn of events, yet even her own fear seemed so much more. It was only later, overhearing the Fortemps family discussing the conference that he had learned more of what had happened that day, and Fhara’s own struggles with the conference, to put it lightly.

Afterwards, Fhara started going for more frequent lessons at the Athenaeum Astrologicum. So eager was she in her studies that she was often away from the manor or out of the city for days at a time. Alphinaud knew she was only keeping busy, and that he had no reason to fear for her safety, but eventually, after a few brief greetings in passing at the manor, he found himself desiring her company proper.

For all the bustle the Athenaeum Astrologicum had been put under in the recent weeks, it was surprisingly peaceful the day he arrived to visit, a welcome reprieve from Ishgard’s otherwise heavy atmosphere. Only a few students milled around within the building, hard at work studying star maps or tomes. The receptionist stood to attention at Alphinaud’s entrance, pushing aside a tome that had clearly been giving him some stress, the frustrated creases giving way to a welcoming, if affected smile.

“Good day, my young ser,” the older elezen said with a bow, “What manner of business brings you to our humble hall? A prior meeting or a dire emergency?”

“Nothing of the sort, sir, I’m merely looking for a friend,” Alphinaud stated, looking around the small space, trying to catch a glimpse of a blonde tail or the familiar pigtailed head he knew, “I’m aware that she’s made use of your establishment for study purposes?”

“Study purposes? Ah, I see,” the receptionist brightened up, after an initial look of curiosity had crossed his face, “You must mean the ever charming Miss Fufu. She does indeed study here under our own Lord Rufin, but she is out at the moment on an errand. Although I’m quite certain she’ll return soon, if you don’t mind waiting.”

“I wouldn’t wish to take up space, I’d be more than happy to return later-” Alphinaud started, already making for the door, when the other man quickly said, “Come now, there’s scarcely anyone here for you to trouble! And with how much work needs getting done here and how eager the young miss is about assisting us, you’d be better waiting here to catch her lest she runs off again.”

“I...I suppose knowing her, she does have an unfortunate tendency to take on more work for herself than is necessary,” the boy mumbled, ignoring the mild pang of guilt at how often he had given her that work in the past, even if she hadn’t ever questioned it or limited herself. He’d already promised her that he wouldn’t continue to blame himself for past mistakes.

“Then stay a while, all the better to wait with company, right?” Yet before Alphinaud could agree, if only to cease the chattering man and resign himself to a corner to wait, the sound of footsteps from the back stairwell seemed to make the receptionist’s grin fall to a worn grimace.

“If I were to ask now, how much is her work that of her own, and how much of it is meant to be yours? Even if you wish to say she took it on willingly, need I remind you that you’re still behind in your own studies in comparison? And I would be very surprised if you say you’re taking the time now to read up on your necessary materials while you’ve chosen to stay behind here.” The voice of the barrage of questions appeared, a hyuran woman with cropped purple hair and wearing a long white robe not unlike that of the city clergy, and with a firm disappointed frown aimed directly at the other man.

“How kind of you to join us Lord Rufin,” the receptionist coughed, attempting to give a placating smile, “Although I was under the impression that you had other business elsewhere.”

“And I returned while you were away from your post,” she replied, expression unwavering, “I did assume you were off assisting with whatever the Observatorium needed, and I would understand given the current troubles in the city, but if it turns out it was another pointless meeting with a young lady-”

“Not at all! My uncle has me far too busy for such arrangements, I assure you,” he scoffed, “Have some faith in me. And some faith in Miss Fufu, she offered to deliver my missives so that I would have a chance at further study.” The woman, Lord Rufin, narrowed her eyes, but didn’t press him further, only nudging his cast aside tome back in front of him, and then turning to Alphinaud.

“So, you’re a friend of Fufu’s? She has spoken somewhat of her companions, but most of our time together has been advancing her studies in astromancy,” she said, casting a quick glance across the boy, as though taking stock of him. He would’ve felt uncertain of the gesture if it weren’t for the friendlier tone she addressed him with.

“Aye, she has said that she found the time to learn such arts. Although I’m rather surprised that it appears to be the Sharlayan variant of healing magicks. I would’ve thought Ishgard opposed such methods,” Alphinaud nodded, noting the star globe hung from Rufin’s back. He did recall the first time Fhara had showcased her small talents, so long before her foray into the Aery, before many of the disasters that had followed them. Minor though they were, she did have an aptitude for some healing spells.

“They were, at first,” Rufin smiled, “But with enough work and convincing, plus admittedly the Holy See’s...diminished say in matters around here, some few folk have been willing to take on the arts. It helps that even outside of any fate reading skills, astromancy is a boon to have on the battlefield, something many of the soldiers have been keen to have for aid.” 

With a glance over her shoulder at the begrudgingly studious elezen at the desk, she added, more quietly for Alphinaud only, “And I suppose I have to admit that, for all he’s rather feckless when it comes to his studies vs Miss Fufu’s enthusiasm, Jannequinard was a great help in getting interest to take off amongst the other student here, and getting us the chance to showcase our skill in the first place.”

“I see,” Alphinaud nodded in response, noting the name and recognising it as a notable - for many reasons - Durendaire lord, however his curiosity was taken on another note, as he asked, “But why come all the way here to teach? Even if Ishgard eventually allowed it, knowing the Forum…”

“Yes, we had some letters and disagreements sent our way,” Rufin huffed, waving a hand in dismissal, “But in the end, they didn’t try to stop us, so I’m not going to worry about it.” Alphinaud suspected otherwise, noting how quickly she brushed aside the topic, plus his own experience overhearing his father at work, but chose better than to pursue it. It wasn’t any of his business.

At that time, the doors burst open, and Fhara appeared, panting heavily as she swept into the room, the skirts of her long gown flourishing behind her as the last of the chill wind caught it. 

“I’m back! Sorry I took so long, I got rather turned around in the Crozier delivering some of the messag-” Her eyes widened in surprise as she caught sight of her friend. “Oh, Alphinaud! I wasn’t expecti- I mean, is everything alright? Did something happen?”

“Calm yourself first,” Rufin chided gently, “You’re clearly quite flustered.”

“Please, nothing is wrong,” Alphinaud nodded, taking a seat from the table and guiding his friend to sit, “I was merely here waiting for you.” Some few seconds passed as Fhara breathed, trying to recollect herself. A tome snapped shut, and Jannequinard stepped out from the desk. “Lord Rufin, perhaps we should give these two a moment, given that the young lad came all this way to meet with his companion. And if you would be so kind, I could do with some help understanding a page or two here.” Rufin raised an eyebrow, but nodded, casting another glance at the pair before leaving with her coworker.

When the sound of footsteps ascending up the wooden stairs faded, Fhara turned to her friend and asked, “So, are you alright?”

The boy was briefly taken aback. “I’m perfectly alright. It is you I would ask that of.”

“Me?” She blinked.

“Well, it has been some time since we’ve properly seen each other these past few days. I know that you look for things to pass the time and keep you busy, of course, but I’ve been rather worried that you were almost too busy. And it seems so given how you seem rushed off your feet here.”

“It’s nothing like that!” Fhara gaped, although a guilty flick of the ear was already betraying her, “I’m just here learning from Rufin. Everything I’m doing is part of that, or doing some idle favours to show my appreciation.”

“Or lightening another’s workload to busy your own mind?” Fhara flinched at the accusation.

“But why? You’ve never been one for the healing arts other than as an idle study, more so for emergencies. I don’t wish to sound as though it’s odd to see you so invigorated for a subject, but why throw yourself into it now?” Fhara didn’t answer, her head turned down and gaze focused on the floor.

“...Is it because of the peace conference?” No reply.

“The Vault?” Her tail flicked.

“...Ysyale?”

“Yes,” she finally replied, a quiet mumble half buried into her chest, “Ysayle, and Minfilia, and Haurchefant, and everyone else. Estinien and Vedofnir, and Honoroit and Emmanelain, and that woman that tried to insight an outburst at the conference, and everyone else.” She finally looked up, wearing a guilty smile with tears already seeping from her eyes.

“I just want to help. But I don’t know what to do.” An ache pounded in his chest to see her weep. Even for someone so emotionally open, she was normally of the cheery type. To see her cry and bemoan how she couldn’t help everyone...

“You know you aren’t alone in this. I am here to help you- all the Scions are.”

“I know-”

“Don’t throw yourself into this if it's not something you really truly want. If it’s only for the sake of others. You would only bring yourself harm if you force it upon yourself.” Fhara sniffed, brushing aside the tears.

In that moment, he swore he wouldn’t leave her to shoulder it alone. He had already asked so much of her. He could spare his own strength to support her as well.

[daanny2772]

FFXIV Dark Knight Level 35 Job Quest Fan Translation

Due to the differences between Fray Myste portrayed in the Japanese and English versions, I have decided to translate a number of the Dark Knight story quests from Japanese. I am by no means proficient in the language and ask that you forgive me for any incorrect translations. Please do let me know so that I am able to fix the mistakes. That being said, there are liberties I have taken due to the structure of the two languages being significantly different. Thank you for keeping this in mind.

Tumblr user haillenarte has also translated the level 45 and 50 quests along time ago. Go check it out if you haven't yet! https://haillenarte.tumblr.com/tagged/fray

I have recorded and subbed a video of my WOL going through the DRK quests below. I’m sorry that the lvl 35 one had to be split into two, but the future ones I’m working on subbing should not have that problem (hopefully...)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lnP6yVSIHpE

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pG0IBvqNdIg 

I’ve taken the Japanese lines from https://alnoumin.exblog.jp/24252515/ and have left the name of their WOL in the Japanese lines.

Guided by a Shriek 

Fray seems to be waiting in the Brume for the adventurer to visit.

***

Fray: We meet again, Nyxahk.  Well then, I will be teaching you everything within the extent of my memories about the Dark Knight.

...But before that, is there anything you’re still curious regarding what happened before the conflict involving the young lady?

The mystery that remains is …?

I wonder how that grandmother is doing?

...Huh? Ah, um… That’s right… I think she’ll be alright as long as she’s with that Miss.

But-- there should be something more puzzling than that! Jeez, you’re truly-- (*unbelievable) 

Fray’s charges

フレイ：あれ……言いませんでしたっけ、無実の罪だって。えっ？　もっと詳しく？う、ううん……思い出すので、ちょっと待ってくださいね。

Huh… Now that I think about it, I didn’t say that I was falsely accused. Eh? You want more details? Hm… please wait a little as I try to recall the events.

...Right, right. An innocent woman was being chased by the Templar Knights. As I was protecting her, I was charged with a made up crime. Really, it’s all because I trying to be nice...

But more importantly, isn’t there anything about yourself that you’re curious about?

About the Voice I heard at the beginning

Yes, that’s exactly it. When you first touched my Soul Stone, you heard someone’s Voice in anguish, correct?

You were intrigued by what that voice could have been… It’s possible it was the voice of “a certain someone you must protect” somewhere in this world.

The Dark Knights of the past have believed in protecting the weak, in the way that you should be bonded with this certain someone. ...Were you to turn a blind eye to this person, you would be a failure as a Dark Knight.

In order for you to become a Dark Knight for this certain person, lets confirm the true intents of their Voice. If you can come to wield even stronger Darkness, you may be able to hear that voice again.

In order to obtain even stronger Darkness, a special rite (communion) is required. I have yet to choose a location for the rite… but with the conflict from the other day still fresh, we may get interrupted if we were to remain in Ishgard.

 Let’s head out on a trip. I’ll be waiting for you at Little Ala Mhigo in South Thanalan.

***

Fray: Ah, it’s great we were able to meet up. Without further ado, I’ll explain the details of this rite to obtain further powers of Darkness.

As long as you have my power, we may begin this rite at any time. However, to receive the power of Darkness is the same as awakening the repressed negative emotions within you.

Therefore, if someone who is not strong enough took on the rite, they would be overcome with those repressed emotions and be killed by the power.

In order to avoid that, you must show me the extents of your ability as a Dark Knight before the rite is to happen.

The best way for me to see your true strength is for you to defeat a strong enemy… Let’s go ask the leader of the village to see if there is a suitable opponent or not.

***

Gundobald: Oh, it’s the adventurer. Though we were unable to prepare a reception, we welcome your return. What business do you have here today?

...I see. You require a strong enemy to test the bounds of your strength.

There is one thing on my mind. Just the north of here at the Red Labyrinth, there have been appearances of ferocious Crag Bite Peistes. 

Their strike is strong, and have even injured many fellow beasts raised in this dangerous region.

Fray: That does seem to be a suitable opponent. The main point of fighting as a Dark Knight is to endure the enemy’s powerful attacks while continuing to attack. ...How will we be able to meet this enemy?

Gundobald: That thing seems to be attracted to the smell of goat breast meat brought by the merchants from Minotaur Malm. In order to draw it out, here is the meat I spoke of.

Though this land is poor, I would like to repay what you’ve done for us, even if it’s just a little.

But still, I  am glad to see this. You’ve brought a friend along, and you’re even relying on us...Hm… You say you’ve only just met this person?

For some reason, you two give off the impression of partners having travelled together for a long time, or that of friends bond strongly to one another… Was it just my imagination?

Fray: ...Nyxakh, it’s about time we get going.

***

Fray: Please show me the true extents of your power as a Dark Knight here. Please defeat the Crag Bite Peistes lured by the goat breast meat we placed. 

It seems the attacks from your enemies will be strong. While keeping your injuries to the least amount possible, attacking when you see the gaps in their defenses should lead you to your victory.

…Then without further ado, commence the battle!

***

Fray: Well done Nyxakh. It seems you have improved your skills from last time.

Though the duty of a Dark Knight is to protect, it does not mean thoughtlessly taking on attacks, nor that defeat means losing everything you have.

If you truly wish to protect that which is important to you, determining the movements of your enemy and keeping your injuries within limits are both essential. And how to use the powers of Darkness is also a part of it, right?

There should be no problems for us to carry out the ritual like this. For now, let’s return to the outskirts of Little Ala Mhigo. We wouldn’t want to be distrubed by any beasts attracted by the leftover meat. 

***

Fray: Without further ado, for you to obtain further powers of Darkness, I will carry out the ritual.

Even though it’s called a ritual, it’s nothing difficult. Simply hold your hand out to mine and close your eyes to concentrate. Your emotions will naturally overflow, and the power should well up alongside it.

It would be good if you can hear that certain someone’s voice again… Anyway, if your heart is ready, then please go ahead and give it a shot.

 ***

As you are thinking that your chest feels like it’s on fire, the Voice rings through your head...

???: ...It hurts… It’s painful… Everything… is hopeless...

How many more challenges must I go through to see hope? It’s as if I’m fighting a battle without end...

For what reason do I continue to stand up…? For what reason do I continue to fight? It hurts, it hurts, it’s getting harder to breathe.... Ah, someone....

***

Fray: ...How was it, Nyxahk? It seems that the rite was a success… Were you able to hear the Voice?

Though you were able to hear it, you still do not know their identity…?

But at the very least, it seems that my conjecture was correct. Somewhere in the world, there is a weak person you must protect, their voice connected to you by the powers of the Darkness.

I don’t know how much of the power of Darkness we will need in order to find out the identity of that Voice. But even so, there exists someone only you can protect.

If the voice you heard was able to reach your heart even a little, I think that’s the path you should continue down. Am I wrong, Nyxakh Nemophila?

What a relief… As I expected, you’re kind as well as strong. That certain person to be protected by a Dark Knight like you will surely be blessed with happiness.

To be honest, I travelled with someone similar to you a long time ago. Without any reason, we stepped out into the vast world, our hearts trembling at everything and anything… it was that kind of journey, you see.

But… yes, it was around this place, they defeated a terrible threat and became a hero.

...But being a hero isn’t all that great, you know? Being manipulated by all sorts of things, only saving up a pile of injuries, eventually even becoming unable to see yourself...

And like that, they drifted away from me, until not even my voice was able to reach them.

I don’t want you to lose sight of what’s important to you. If you decide to protect that certain someone, listen carefully to their voice, and please don’t ever avert your eyes from them. 

Then, when you become even stronger, you’ll take on the rite of Darkness again. ...We definitely have to meet up again at the place we first met.

***

t/n:

- Crag Bite Peistes - the english only had it listed as peistes, but the crag bite part is so funny to me because I had and still have no idea what the katakana is referring to so I stuck it in Google Translate. That's what came out and it makes me laugh so I've left it in 

- Jeez, you’re truly-- (*unbelievable) - What Fray says would be close to "People like you--", the unbelievable part is implied. He's pretty much just really exasperated at WOL and it's cute. i love him

- Regarding the person that Fray talks about having gone on an adventure with, their pronouns will change depending on the gender of the character. I've used they for my translations as my WOL uses they.

- the rite Fray talks about is called a communion in Eng which works better imo in the overall scheme of things but i left it as rite here

[the-cocky-bitch]

I have actually been thinking about Venat a lot lately, about her ultimate motives and her actions. It is true that Venat's actions are horrific when you consider the full implications, and also true that this gets brushed aside by other characters and not given that much consideration. Venat herself is fully aware of the suffering and misery she has inflicted on everyone, on the lives she has condemned them to. Aside from being tempered by Zodiark, the unsundered Ascians hate Hydaelyn with a burning passion for what she has done. However the other characters don't condemn her because it has already been done, they don't remember the world unsundered, they are what remains. They don't yearn for what was and Hydaelyn has always been considered the Star's protector by those aware of her. So it wouldn't make sense to me for the main characters to condemn her, narratively speaking.

Full thoughts below, spoiler warning for everything from the Elpis arc to Endwalker

My thoughts are that the WoL travelling to the past didn't affect the outcome (i.e., the sundering) but may have affected the how and some of the why of it. The Ancients' society was perfect. Everything, even death, was beautiful, it was a utopia. (Except to those for whom it wasn't). They have the power of creation, want for nothing, and can direct life on the whole star. And then suddenly the Final Days come out of nowhere, their powerful magics turn against them, everything is falling apart and none of the experts can find what is causing it. Their ruling body comes up with the idea of sacrificing half of their population to stop this catastrophe. Of course, they agree, their guiding principle is to serve for the betterment of the star (there aren't any other ideas). And it works. Zodiark stops the final days. However, the planet is in a tragic state and their creation magic can't fix it. So the Convocation suggests another sacrifice to restore life. I feel like it's at this point that Venat's faction spawns. They go through with the second sacrifice. It's when talks of a third sacrifice to restore their way of life begins, that Venat and her faction begin planning to counter them.

My point is that theirs was a society where everything was "perfect" so they are unable to cope with anything so ruinous, they would be stuck in the "why us" thought and be willing to sacrifice anything to restore their way of life, where everything has its place and order, and they are once again the shepherds of the star and their own fates, rather than the helpless, terrified livestock, flailing around mindlessly and pointlessly as they are led to their slaughter. Maybe the metaphor is taking it too far, but they are a society where they are used to things going their way, where they decide which life forms live, which can get uncreated and which can join the rest of the life on the star. They don't have the ability to process that, and they don't want to, they just want things to go back to what it was.

That is what Venat sees - a society willing to sacrifice so many lives to be able to go back to what it was. In the original timeline, Venat may have considered it an unacceptable way of life - to continuously sacrifice lives, both which consent and which do not - to resolve society's issues. Maybe she considered that if that goes forward, it wouldn't be a sustainable society, that man must learn to solve their own issues without such drastic measures.

In the timeline WoL went back to Elpis, Venat knew the source behind the end days and knew that desperation, fear, hopelessness only fed it. In either timeline, she considered the likelihood of Zodirak being destroyed rather high, since she constructed the moon in both timelines. So, in my opinion, especially in the current timeline, she considered the Ancients a society which wouldn't survive and stay strong against grief and desperation, should they face a repeat of the Final Days, not as they were, not as a society which doesn't have to fight for anything, as a society which considers itself a perfect Utopia.

Something else that might have helped her make the decision to summon Hydeaelyn, is that maybe her world couldn't face Meteion and stand resolute in the face of hopelessness, but she did know somebody who could, somebody who was born of her Azem's sundered soul and who, going by their tales, surrounded themselves with likewise-minded and stalwart companions. So maybe they would have a chance of defeating Meteion.

So this was the worst possible thing she could do, she knew what it would mean for everyone. What it would mean for Azem, for Emet-Selch, for Hythlodaeus, for everyone she has met and loved in her journeys. But she probably felt it was the only choice left to her.

I am JUST SAYING how much can you really love your people if, when presented with the evidence of their suffering, you tell them “life sucks, get used to it” and then kick them apart so life sucks even more?

Venat says all the right things.

What she does, however, is as monstrous as any of the other Ancients.

But because she SAYS all the right things, and because the narrative puts her in the position of “your ally,” much like G’raha last expansion, the greater fandom impression of her is one that refuses to acknowledge and engage with her flaws. (That old SHB post of mine is going around again.)

[raelly-writing]

Prompt 19: Where the heart lies - FFXIV Write 2020

Ahah, uh, yeah, this idea made me sort of feel the pain of having a Thancred/WoL ship that’s ‘can’t spit it out and stubbornly pines for each other until late Shadowbringers’, so I wanted to try and keep the time sort of vague like it’s been a while since then. But then what felt like the natural way to end it tied it pretty hard to 5.3. I dunno, I liked the mood and flow so maybe I’ll revisit when I have a few more patches’ distance.

Hints towards NSFW themes, but nothing explicitly stated.

---

The sound of his shower was a lulling drone in the background as Thancred dozed, content and relaxed after eagerly welcoming her back from her latest adventures. Sweat was cooling on his skin, the covers merely haphazardly gathered around his waist, though he did not feel all too bothered by the slight nip of the evening air.

They were precious to him, these private reunions of theirs. Especially after they had been apart for a long time - the reassurance of seeing each other alive, even if there were always that twinge of guilt when he saw the traces of one injury or another on her skin, accompanied by the wish that he could have been with her. It was a look he often saw reflected in her own expression when it was his skin that had been marked and bruised by a foe.

For all of their agreement that their duties came first, it never made parting any easier.

It took him a moment to realise that the sound of water had ceased and that a comfortable silence had instead settled over the room. Absently, he listened for the sound of her bare feet against the stone floor, his cue to stir from his comfortable spot and take his own turn in the shower.

Instead, the silence stretched on. Stirring a bit more from his doze, he felt a tickle at the back of his neck, a familiar, well-honed instinct telling him he was being watched.

Thancred cracked his eyes open and found Viana leaning against the doorframe to his washroom, her arms loosely crossed and a small smile on her lips as she watched him. The thoughtful look in her eyes was tinged with affection, so soft and unguarded despite all the hardship she’d been through. His breath caught, and for a few brief seconds he was able to soak in the sight of her, before she realised that he’d noticed her.

A flicker of embarrassment instantly passed over her features as she straightened back up while clearing her throat. “Sorry, my thoughts wandered,” she said softly, as if not wanting to speak too loudly into the silence of the room.

He gave her a charming smile. “It’s alright, I know these handsome features can be cause for distraction.”

As expected, Viana laughed and gave him a familiar, mock flat look that he, despite all these many years, still remembered so well from the time before the Monetarists’ coup in Ul’dah, when their suggestive banter had been a mere facet of the friendship they’d struck up. “It truly is a mystery how you do not leave a trail of distracted, injured people in your wake.”

She shifted her weight to one foot, and his gaze momentarily dropped to the hemline of the shirt she wore - his, he realised with a familiar sense of delight - that barely reached the top of her thighs. “I know,” he drawled as he looked up at her once more. “It’s a testament to people’s strength of will.”

Viana snorted, a fond smile on her lips as she crossed the short distance back to his bed. Thancred caught one of her hands in his, a small tug and light touch to her hip enough to guide her to straddle him.

“Jokes aside,” he hummed before brushing a kiss to her knuckles, “what were you thinking about? Not the next errand you need to run, I hope?”

With a small shake of her head, she caressed his cheek. “I just thought about… this. How we got here.”

Thancred slowly slid his fingers down over her arm, eyes still on her. “Quite the long and winded road we took,” he replied as he gently took hold of her other hand too and laced their fingers together.

She made a quiet sound of agreement, then tilted her head to the side. “I don’t think I ever have asked you… when did you feel like things changed between us? When did you realise you felt something for me?”

The questions took him by surprise. Raising an eyebrow, he found no ready answer on the tip of his tongue. He would never deny that he had found her attractive from the moment she’d stepped into the Solar in the Waking Sands. Even as far back as then, he would gladly have taken her to his bed and helped her unwind after they had her chase primals all over the realm - something undefined, without strings or expectations, like all his physical relationships had been back then. But when had the physical attraction shifted into something more?

Viana remained quiet, patiently waiting for him to sort through his thoughts while one of her thumbs slowly rubbed over his.

Sighing, he closed his eyes and pressed another kiss to her fingers. “I’m not sure,” he finally responded. “You were there with me after Minfilia…” He paused, the words catching in his throat even after all these years.

After she had given up her life for Hydaelyn, and it’d felt like his heart had been shattered. And then she had departed their world entirely to save another, taking with her the piece of his heart that he’d left with her so long ago, when she’d been just a girl bearing another name, crying over her father’s unmoving body. The old, dull sorrow made his chest tighten. 

It was hard to think back on those years after they’d found him in Dravania, how dark his mindset had been through the war until he had, under a foreign Light filled sky, finally been able to let go of his old guilt and grief, and move on for the sake of another young girl’s future. To this day, he was not sure when one of those jagged little shards of his heart had found its way into Viana’s hand and been safely tucked away beneath her breastbone.

He felt her weight shift atop him and then the warm press of her lips against his, the damp fringes of her hair a tickle against his cheek and forehead, while her hands squeezed his in reassurance.

“Forgive me, I didn't mean to dig up painful memories,” Viana said softly.

Thancred opened his eyes to see the same sense of loss and pain in hers. Smiling faintly, he let go of her hands to cup her jaw. “It’s alright,” he replied while brushing his thumbs over her cheeks. Her expression softened as she rested her hands on his wrists, still watching him.

“I’m not sure when I began to love you,” he continued. “But I think I realised it when you first returned from Othard, and I felt it in my bones how much I had missed you.” He paused, eyes roaming over her face. “It felt like a piece of my heart had returned to me at last.”

A bashful smile spread on her lips as she laughed under her breath, her cheeks suddenly stained with a blush. “How poetic.”

“Can’t let those bardic skills rust completely,” he hummed with a sly grin. “How else am I supposed to make you laugh and blush so prettily?”

“You’re hopeless.”

“Perhaps.” He pulled her down again, slipping an arm around her waist as they met in a slow, lingering kiss that made his body feel warm and fuzzy. Despite that it melted into a series of kisses, it seemed far too soon that they finally parted. “How about you?”

Viana peered at him from beneath her lashes as she rested her weight on her elbows. “Remember when you packed my gunblade and gear, and sent it to me before I left for Othard?”

Thancred nodded, giving her a curious look. “Couldn’t have been that, surely.”

She chuckled and shook her head. “No, but you packed one of my books as well, and slipped a note into it.” His brow furrowed and it took him a moment, but he could vaguely recall doing such a thing. It’d seemed like such a small, random thing to him. Her expression softened, as if she knew what he was thinking. “I didn’t see it until I unpacked it all on the ship. It was a short note, just you wishing me to stay safe. But that’s when I realised what I felt for you.”

He was unsure what to say in response, hadn’t thought that it’d been a simple gesture that had been the cause. Grabbing her, he rolled them both over, smothering her surprised laugh with a firm kiss, as if it would somehow make up for what he felt had been lost time. His hand wandered over her, pushing up the shirt she wore to feel her skin beneath his palm and tracing the waistline of her smalls.

“Thancred, I just showered,” she laughed against his lips, even as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

“Guess you can shower again with me then,” he replied, his voice low and raspy. “Later.”

Though time and space may separate them, part of his heart would forever remain across the Rift, below a crystal wall in a desert region in another world where Minfilia, who he’d loved so dearly like the younger sibling he had never known, had saved one world from entire annihilation and spoken her final words to him. Another with Ryne, who he had watched grow and come into her own, stirring a paternal pride and love in him, as she walked under the night sky they had fought so hard for side-by-side, striving as she did to heal that world’s wounds. Other pieces lay tucked into the pockets and hands of the rest of his found family, smaller, but no less potent.

Another, no longer sharp and jagged with sorrow and despair as when he first may have inadvertently given her it, lay nestled next to the heart of the woman in his arms.

Just like he knew, he carried a piece of hers with him.

A home, with each other.

[alvaar-aldaviir]

Wondrous Tails: Listening to Music / Polyamory Discussion

This is going to be my last official prompt entry for the Wondrous Tails of FFXIV event. It's been an absolute blast, and I suppose no better way then to cap it off on a dual prompt my bingo board just gave me. With my Bard. And the weird road he's taken to get here.

  Time Frame: Post Canon (years after Shadowbringers) Very minimal spoilers.

Notes: All characters are aged up. Mentioned possible poly relationship between my WoL and the twins. No, there won't be incest, ship what you like but I still don't think it fits the twins' personalities.

Also I have no idea how I keep writing from Alisaie's perspective but it keeps happening and I'm not even going to argue at this point.

  Her brother was hopeless in matters of love. It was something Alisaie had long known about him, especially after having to endure the misplaced affections of several of his numerous crushes in the Studium. But watching him around Alvaar was borderline painful by proxy at times.

She’d thought it odd, the way he had immediately excused himself from the lavish hall of the Canopy as soon as Alvaar had taken up his harp and the amused snort the Bard made as he left. Yet another inside joke between them it seemed, and again one she hadn’t the faintest what it meant.

Having heard Alvaar’s music many times before she knew it wasn’t that he was terrible. In fact, his cheeky quip of being a ‘Bard of Bards’ sounded fairly accurate as she’d seldom met anyone rivaling the pull and sway of that skilled tenor and accompanying harp. Music hadn’t been any form of her specialty or interest in her studies, but she knew enough to tell when someone was good. Hells any random passerby who stopped in could tell that he was exceptional. A fair few had even found a seat and ordered food and drink to enjoy while they waited out yet another of Gridania’s torrential downpours.

Perhaps it was given his long years as a Bard of battle, raising voice and lyre to inspire and weave bolstering magic with his allies, which lent a persuasive pull to his songs. There was a... sincerity, she supposed. Buried deep in every tune ringing off strings and lyrics resonating in his voice. Age old stories and memories wrapped up in each song and if she closed her eyes it was almost as if she could see them herself.

Far off battles for ancient kingdoms. The journey and trials of heroes. The giddiness of a wild flight through open skies. The sorrow and determination of a Queen of ice.

And though there was no trace of Bardsong in his movements, no telltale hum of potent resonance as he wove supportive spells, she could vaguely read a subtle shift of aether. Not enough to invoke anything, but there nonetheless, shifting about him as if charmed by his song.

It explained a great deal she supposed, if his regular singing could tune and prime surrounding aether. Several of his clever tricks and impressive feats in their adventures made more sense if that were the case.

But even if she enjoyed his songs, it wasn’t in her nature to sit idle while the sun was still up. Rising to her feet after an hour she made for the door. A bit of rain didn’t mean she couldn’t explore the indoor market space or perhaps brush up a few skills in one of the practice yards.

It was just as she was clearing the door that a familiar shock of white caught her periphery, surprised to find her twin on the porch still, seated against the corner of the building and sketchbook on his lap. For a moment she pondered leaving him be before discarding the notion. What was the fun of that? Much more interesting to find if he would be too absorbed in his work to notice her approach when she doubled back to try the south exit and creep up over his shoulder that way.

“From memory, dear brother?” she asked abruptly as she studied his half-finished drawing, smirking as Alphinaud startled and almost dropped his charcoal stick. And even if he quickly and quite huffily clapped the book closed, they both knew the damage was done.

“Invasive as ever, dear sister,” he returned flatly.

“You know Alvaar would likely hold still for a portrait if you asked,” she commented lightly, leaning against the corner wall, and crossing her arms over her chest with a smug air.

“It’s just practice,” he murmured. “Nothing I would need him specifically for.”

“Mmm. So why, if I may ask, are you seated out here, in less than ideal conditions, sketching pictures of a man who’s been sitting fairly still and inside with better lighting?” she inquired.

“I like the peace and quiet actually, and ordinarily the privacy, but it seems rather lacking in it today,” he clipped back.

“Funny, I can still hear Alvaar just fine from here. Almost uncannily so...”

At that he merely shook his head and stared out over the lake the Roost overlooked, expression pensive and clearly not in the mood for their usual banter.

“... You should tell him you love him,” Alisaie stated after a moment, glancing down to meet his surprised stare. “Oh please... I’m your twin. I know you’ve been enamored with him longer than I have whether you want to admit it or not.”

A soft noise left his throat, trying for words and clearly meaning to protest before breathing out a heavy sigh and his shoulders slumping in defeat. It was probably one of the most miserable looks she’d seen on him in some time, and the notion of it grated on her nerves far more than she liked.

“And to what end?” he asked quietly. “I’ve no interest in hazarding the bonds we’ve built and driving a wedge between you and I, Alisaie. He seems quite taken with you, so I’ve no wish to jeopardize that for my own self-interest.”

“We’re casual. There’s nothing there for you to jeopardize,” the Red Mage answered simply.

“But you wish there were,” he returned promptly, meeting her gaze with a moment of resigned and knowing maturity.

It was enough to still her reflexive scoff and the lie that wanted to spring from her tongue. Damn it. Even after all these years he still had those moments of being infuriatingly mature. “... I do,” she answered.

“Then I’m not about to hazard that,” he stated firmly.

Sighing deeply, she lifted a hand to pinch the bridge of her nose a moment. “Alphinaud... just because we’re minutes apart does not make me a child needing to be coddled from the world. Don’t sacrifice your own happiness because you believe mine more deserving. I’m a grown woman, I will be able to handle whatever he may choose.”

Silence filled the space between them, only accented by the hiss of rain and distant hum of harp and voice. Brow knitting in irritation as her brother continued to stay mired in his thoughts with no sign of changing his mind, she blew out a slow sigh for patience.

“Who’s to say he picks either of us anyway? .... Who’s to say he won’t pick us both?” she tosses out flippantly.

“Begging your pardon?!” Alphinaud blustered, staring at her in stupefied surprise.

Giving a one-armed shrug she gestured vaguely with her other hand. “I’m just saying that historically, things tend to work out where Alvaar is concerned. You never quite know how they will until they do, but neither will you find out just sitting around being miserable. And I’m not about to thank you for martyring your own feelings on my behalf, Alphinaud. You’re my brother. My twin. The one constant I can count on if no one else. If the world threatening to end several times hasn’t managed to change that, what makes you think the Warrior of Light could either?”

Glancing at him and the sincere surprise and sentiment in his eyes she looked away with a huff, resettling her stance to ease some of the embarrassment she was feeling.

“Do you mean that?” he asked softly.

“Of course I do and you know it. ... Besides, we’ve shared everything else most of our lives. If we could manage to handle sharing Angelo growing up, I think we could manage this too,” she reasoned casually.

“A dog is a far cry from a mutual boyfriend, Alisaie,” Alphinaud mumbled, face staining a bit red even just speaking of it.

“Well it would certainly make a more sensible reason for sharing the same house now wouldn’t it?” she teased, flashing him a grin at the inside joke.

Blinking at her in puzzlement for a moment, he finally gave a soft chuckle when it clicked. “You still remember that? Gods that was... over a decade ago now I think,” he mused tapping at his chin with a knuckle in thought.

“Of course. And I’m still just as intent on spiting that old bat now as I was then,” Alisaie confirmed.

She could still remember with perfect clarity the words Alphinaud had thrown back at their first instructor. An overly prim and proper Roegadyn woman who had picked and pried at them during and after lessons for always being together. ‘What will you do when you’re grown and married?’ she’d challenged them one day, haughty toned and dismissive as she’d stared down at them. ‘We’ll all live in the same house together of course!’ he’d shot back angrily, as if it were the most obvious solution in the world. Because at the time, and to them, it was.

If they weren’t meant to be together, two sides of a coin, why be born twins at all?

Giving an amused snort at the memory she pushed herself upright fully and stretched. “Maybe we can get another dog too. That would be nice.”

“You’re serious?” Alphinaud asked, tone still wary with disbelief.

“Sure. If you pay for it, I may even let you name it this time.”

“Not about the dog, Alisaie,” he sighed, ruffling his hair in exasperation. “You know what I meant.”

“I meant what I said Alphinaud. If you can be fine with whatever outcome happens, I can be fine with it to. If he picks you, or me, neither of us, or even both of us. It won’t change anything between us,” she answered firmly. “But if you don’t tell him because you’re worried about me, I’ll never let you hear the end of it.”

Sitting back against the wall, the Scholar made a slight face at the threat before he looked thoughtful instead of withdrawn. “I’ll... consider it.”

That was progress of some form at least she supposed, and that would have to do for now.

“Very well! But note I do demand payment for my invaluable advice,” she intoned haughtily, drawing herself up grandly before striding away. “Finish up that portrait and leave it in my inn room before sundown and I’ll waive my travel expenses too. If you need me, I’ll be in the markets.”

She didn’t need to look back to know the put-upon expression he’d be making. Just as she knew that half-finished picture of the Bard would be complete and on her bedside table when she retired to it.

    “Hey Ali!” Alvaar greeted her cheerily, face flushed from liquor and a slight slur on his words. He was sitting at a table when she arrived back to the Roost during sunset, leaned heavily against the furniture and various bottles littering around him.

“What did you do?” she asked flatly, hands settling on her hips as she surveyed the scene disapprovingly.

“Nothin! Just... playin and singin and need booze fer my throat,” he chirped, smiling brightly.

“And about drunk off your arse. Come on, let’s get you to bed, it’s getting late.” Stepping closer she moved to help him up but stopped when he pressed a hand to her arm and held fast.

“Nah... ahm good. Dun worry bout me,” he soothed, smiling warmly. “Help will be along soon. Always does when I stop playin.”

Raising a brow at him, she sighed and opted to humor him. While she could certainly haul him to bed with the wiry strength she’d gained with her growth spurt and years of Red Mage training, trying to force Alvaar into anything when he didn’t want to was a recipe for failure. And bruises, as she’d learned once before on accident.

Grabbing up the empty bottles she took them to the counter for disposal, perking up at Alvaar’s next enthusiastic greeting while the proprietress made off with the bottles.

“Hey Alphi!”

Turning to watch her brother finally make his appearance from the stairs, she stayed put at the bar and waited. Noting the way Alvaar brightened in that quiet way of his, nodding and answering whatever questions Alphinaud had for him. The way her twin’s expression softened with a lovesick fondness even as he fretted over the Bard gently while Alvaar leaned into him for support instead of the table.

A few years ago, she’d spotted the easy trust between them. How they could speak without words almost as well as Alphinaud and she could. The confidence in each other and way they both eased when together. It had been an alien feeling, vexing in a way she couldn’t describe. Half worried she was losing her brother, and half convinced the flame of a crush she’d held for Alvaar was already a lost cause.

In some way she still worried, but if the many years fighting side by side against the threats of Source and Shards alike hadn’t diminished any of the bonds between them and only managed to strengthen them instead, she told herself there was little reason to pay it much mind.

“Ah, that’s a sight I haven’t seen in some time,” the Elezen woman behind the counter remarked softly, drawing Alisaie’s attention for a moment. She was an almost plain woman, with cropped ashen brown hair and simple dress, but the air of gentle confidence and friendliness was refreshing in a city that tended to huff at outsiders.

“A few years ago it would be almost weekly they would be here, Alvaar entertaining my patrons until he could barely stand, and young Alphinaud finally swooping in to see him off to bed like clockwork,” she mused aloud as if to no one in particular. “Alvaar used to get so sad when he played late into the night after he went to Ishgard. It was as if the sound of a broken heart was on those strings. It’s so nice that his music has its joy again.”

Blinking at her quietly for a moment, she looked back at the pair with a small nod. “Yea, it is,” she murmured.

“And they’ve grown up so much over the years too. Why, I remember when Alphinaud was still almost elbow height! And he used to boss our poor Bard around all the time and Taelis would get so furious with him he’d stomp out at all hours of the day. Of course, at the time Alvaar barely said a word so it was definitely on his behalf… It took Alvaar so long to come out of his shell from when he first arrived here, a fresh young Adventurer looking to help people. Oh, but then there was that nasty rumor in Ul’dah that had them both taking refuge here years ago… and then a few months after that Miss Y’shtola was recovering in one of our suites. They must have been sitting out here together until almost dawn waiting for her to wake up. They’ve been through here so much I almost can’t remember all the tales I’ve heard accompanying each visit...” she mused aloud, voice cheerful as she spoke of days long past.

There were a few beats of pointed silence that stretched between them, both watching silently as Alphinaud gathered Alvaar’s things for him and pressed the Bards harp into his hands so it could be dismissed dutifully.

“They love each other very much I think,” the proprietress mused aloud. “You can see it plain as day in how they look at each other.”

Feeling her heart sink at the ease of that statement and the truth in it, Alisaie looked away, starting to move before the woman spoke again.

“I wonder what adventures he must share with you, Alisaie, for him to look at you so lovingly as well.”

Turning abruptly to stare at her in surprise, she tried for words a moment and only managed a flustered, “W-how?”

Smiling at her kindly the woman raised a finger up with a gesture of confident intuition. “A Mother knows many things. She can always tell when one of her children is so genuinely in love.” Looking back at the pair fondly she continued. “I have always dearly wished for the happiness of the many adventurers and aspiring heroes who have found their way through these doors. So please, I ask you and Alphinaud both to take care of one of my dearest sons, as I know he will take care of you.”

Studying the gentle and proud demeanor of the woman in puzzlement, she was interrupted from whatever she might have said in reply by a loud cry of, “Ali!”

Looking over she noted her brother’s quiet amusement as Alvaar waved at her energetically in his liquor fueled excitement.

“Come on time for bed! I’m not going without you I told Alphi so!” Alvaar announced loudly, shifting his stance needlessly given the Scholar was mostly holding him up at this point anyway.

“Yes, I’m coming,” she called, casting a glance at the proprietress who still smiled at her fondly. Unable to think of anything to say she offered a nod, quickly making tracks as Alvaar whined her name again. Sweeping up under Alvaar’s other arm, she helped Alphinaud to carry his weight towards the suites. “Come on you, that’s enough yelling. Let’s get you to bed,” she chided.

“Okay!” the Bard chirped overly loud again. “Goodnight Mother Miounne!”

“Goodnight Alvaar! Pleasant dreams!” Miounne called fondly, watching the three make their way off to the stairs.

“Yes, you’ve all made Mother very proud indeed,” she murmured to herself fondly.

[mirroralchemist]

Untitled FFXIV Trash pt.3

Still at it again :V. @but-two-days-old became my enabler. Also a great sounding board for my headcanons about my WoL

Word Count: 1,451 (the rough draft, it’s probably more with this upload lol) Notes: I feel like writing about That Scene(tm) is a rite of passage for FFXIV fanfics. So this is based the Ahm Araeng the second trip, so a loooot of spoilers. Also mentions The Vault a bit. One-sided WoL/Thancred and unrequited WoL/Haurchefaunt. But mainly time for sad times.

“You have no words for her?”

“Not today.”

I stared at Thancred, not really surprised. He seemed tired, the weary look in his eyes of years of regret. Being out here in Twine and seeing Magnus’ situation first hand is almost staring at a reflection of his own problems. I wanted to offer my support more than just a lending ear. I was grateful he could open up to me about our Minfilia, but I could do more.

Be more.

I took his hand into my own, just briefly, to know that I was there if he needed me. I let out a small breath. Being here reminded me of what I had lost. Hearing ‘Filia’s words brought back a bit of that pain I felt as I lost those around me.

If I wasn’t the Warrior of Light, a lot of those who were lost would still be among us.

There were many who were chosen to receive the Echo, surely if I had died another could take up the mantle?

“As the one who’s been here the shortest, it isn’t my place to tell you what you should and shouldn’t do in regards to ‘Filia.” I started, “But as your friend I will say this; don’t hold off until the very last moment to leave things unsaid. Once they’re gone, that’s it.”

I clenched my hands into a fist, remembering that day so clearly. The one of many regrets that collected over the time on my journey. As Haurchefant laid dying, so many words I should have said beforehand; so many feelings realized in that one moment that I couldn’t say. I thought I had made peace with it while pulling Nidhogg’s eyes from Estinien’s body.

Seeing someone make those same mistakes, especially someone I hold in such a high regard.

I couldn’t take that feeling.

“I’m going to do a couple hunts around the the town gates, when we all are ready let me know.”

I sprinted away from him. I didn’t want him to see me like this. Not so exposed, not when we have more pressing matters to confront. I would talk with ‘Filia when I can be alone with her. To tell her there are people who love her. That if she had disappeared tomorrow many of us would be sad. More than the Oracle, she was like a little sister to me.

In some respects, almost like a daughter.

I jumped off one of the ledges from Twine and landed on the ground. I whistled a familiar pitch, summoning my Chocobo. Giving me a soft “kweh”, I pet his beak.

“You ready for a bit of training Yusuke?” I asked as I took out a bundle of Gyshal Greens.

An excited kweh in response as I prepped myself for some combat. I took out my gunblade, watching it unfold to its full length. I had been training in secret as a Gunbreaker since my return from Gridania. I was thankful that I could cast a glamour on my clothing so one couldn’t tell when I was. When I had the free time from my duties here in the First, taking on jobs with Radovan and Sophie I learned to appreciate the role of being a bodyguard. I took stance, readying my ammunition to imbue with my aether. I took a few steadying breaths.

I need to clear my head as an occupied mind leads to mistakes in the battlefield.

“Let’s go!”

*   *   *

The enemies here were a bit tougher than what I’m used to. I sat on the sands, not even minding the grains against my legs. My gunblade discarded to the side. Yusuke standing ever beside me waiting his next order. I motioned for him to come sit beside me before giving lazy pets to his head.  He still gave out the same contented kwehs as if I have given him the best pats of his life. He did so well backing me up as I got used to enemies focusing their attention on me. I wasn’t confident enough to apply that to people just yet, but I could slowly warm up to the idea.

The hunts took my mind off the situation at hand for a while, but now they were coming back. I let out a small sigh. My hands began to tremble as I continued to stroke Yusuke’s plumage. Those feelings of self-doubt and regret welling up inside of me and wanting to burst. Yusuke nudged his head against my shoulder in some attempt to console me. I smiled shyly at my Chocobo.

He always was an intelligent creature.

“Thanks Yusuke. I’ll be alright, just it’s a lot going on.”

He started to kweh, before going rigid. Immediately, he stood up and got into an offensive stance.

“A protective little one, isn’t he?”

I scrambled to get up from my spot before gently touching the reigns on Yusuke to soothe him.

“It’s okay boy, Thancred is not a threat.” I spoke, petting his beak with my free hand.

It seemed only a couple minutes before my mount calmed enough that I could loosen my grip on the reigns. I could still feel some of the tenseness, but it wouldn’t be to the point that he would do anything without my command. I am not wholly surprised at the reaction, Yusuke has always been faithfully protective of me. From the day he was given to me by the Immortal Flames. Very few could take his trait in stride.

“I shouldn’t be surprised you would be talented in caring Chocobos too.”

“I...wasn’t.” I admitted, “Not at first. I knew the basics. But Lord Haurchefant, he..he had a way with chocobos. Taught me everything I know to care for mines. Even helped me inspire him to fly.”

I stroke around Yusuke’s head, watching as his sky blue plumes envelope my hand. I allowed myself to smile at those days in Ishgard. The times when there was a lull between putting an end to the generations long war between man and dragon. Those times when I thought everyone else was dead and it took all I had to not give in to the overwhelming despair; learning to take care of Yusuke with Haurchefant gave me just enough strength to go on.

He helped remind me that I was more than just the Warrior of Light; that I was Ami, a woman from Ul’dah and I was allowed to feel this way.

“You must have loved him very much.”

I paused in my pets. I turned around to face Thancred. I opened my mouth to say something, before promptly closing it. I never did talk about that day at the Vault with the others that didn’t experience it firsthand. And even then, there was a silent understanding that speaking on it was hard.

I’m sure the others had told him at the very least the main details of what happened.

“You said that once before.” I said, “That I had a look as if I lost someone I had loved back in Ishgard. It is...complicated. Looking back now, I did love him. My heart had yearned for a hopeless endeavor for so long that I was blind to those ahead of me. It took until he was dying from an attack intended for me that I realized; the notion of being by his side that intimately would have been pleasant.”

I let out a harsh breath reliving those days. I had told no one else of these feelings. I had buried them for so long. Saying them now felt hollow.

When all of this is said and done, what will I have to show for it? Sure the worlds will be saved, but what will I have to show for it?

“But I made my choices and I must live with the consequences of that for the rest of my days.” I bitterly realized, “Are the others ready?”

“Yes, the trolley is ready. Once our preparations are done we can leave.”

I gave a brisk nod as a patted Yusuke one more time. He kweh’ed one more time before taking off. I watched as he went towards the direction of the Crystarium.

“He knows his way back to the Rookery.” I said, “Where we’re going, it’ll be no place for him.”

I heard the shifting sands of Thancred closing in on me. I turned around to meet his gaze. In his hands was my Scaevan Magitek gunblade, in its compact form. I reached out to grab it, only for our hands to touch over the handle. It couldn’t have been more than a minute before he let go and I placed it back into my pack. His hand found its way to the top of my head.

“Once this is all over, I would like to see how far you’ve progressed with the Gunblade.”

I nodded dumbly at him. The shock of hearing such a request. He smiled wistfully at me before heading back into town. I stared at his retreating back for a bit while my hand absently touched the spot on my head his was just a few moments ago.

Now I see why ‘Filia always seems too happy to get those head pats.

[brightblessed-aa]

How much do you think it HURT the scions to know that not only did they die, but you also did? That the WoL died, who seems unbeatable at times. Not even that but like... After the others got there, at least they knew they were safe-ish. You were still in the Source and they were probably all low-key worried they would never see you again. And then you show up and it must have been a fucking rush of emotion to see your friend again. Your friend that you KNOW will die. Because it doesn’t really feel real when they say ‘yeah you guys fall’ but they seem to focus heavily on the fact that they know YOU die. It really cements the idea that you aren’t just the main character and a nameless weapon. You are their FRIEND and they are incredibly worried about you. This is shown over and over in ShB and is why I love the Scions so much more in it than the previous expansions. Despite me already liking most of them before. They really feel like a big family in ShB. The fact they are all trying to help you at the end, when you are so fucked up they have to carry you back to your room, and how somber and hopeless it seems but they won’t leave you alone really fucking... makes you feel like a real character in this world. 

And by extension, the same with G’raha. Like if you did the raid like I did (thanks to my brother forcing me to because he didn’t when he did shb but he did so good sneaking me into it without revealing it would be important later), it really just makes it feel like you were not only an inspirational hero to G’raha that he read about but that you were his friend. It it must have made him ACHE to see you again. Alive. Probably different if you did the raid in the ARR patches like I did. Just imagining these people that have been separate from you but all know that you are going to die seeing you again, still alive... Just gives me feels idk. 

[aetherstories]

( Hi hello it’s munday and I’m here to ask: why specifically did you choose a villainous Azem to go with? It’s such an interesting twist to the role of the WoL that I can’t help but wonder what made you take that route. )

Munday questions || Ask anything, accepting!

First of all, thank you for sending the question! (And not only because I could spend ages talking about stinkzem).

Basically, though, the notion of a villainous Azem was not really my original idea. I've always liked fic explorations of characters changing sides, and I ended up down the Emet-Selch x WoL rabbit hole and found a couple of works and explorations about the WoL joining the Ascians.

Thing is, those discussions and fics had the WoL changing sides for love, and that... did not feel like a valid reason for me. So I commented it with friends, as well as my frustrations with the trope, and suddenly I was down the rabbit hole of trying to find a reason that would suffice, in my eyes, for the embodyment of hope to decide to betray all they had ever defended.

The frustration of the failure of lifetime, the curse of mortality and memories and years beyond what a mortal should know and remember, while having known a paradise... sheer existential dread, in line with the themes of Endwalker, was the answer I liked.

And the moment I had that answer, the inspiration and the muse were there. I couldn't not play with the remains of a broken, hopeless hero who loved the world and thought it doomed, who was no longer a mortal and yet remembered being mortal far too many times.

Long story short, I ran into the idea by sheer chance, gave it my particular spin, and before I knew it, evil!Azem was sitting on my braincell and demanding to be written.

[goldbasar]

[Took me some time to come around, but how about: Carvellain OR Jannequinard. DURENDAIRE MOMENT. For a ship- Eleyara/Silvairre ;D]

002 | Give me a character & I will tell you

I’ll chose JANNEQUINARD DE DURENDAIRE ( LONG POST AHOY

How I feel about this character:HE’S MY FAVORITE QUEST GIVER AND ONE OF MY ALL AROUND FAVORITE SIDE CHARACTERS.Well…Jannequinard is…different to say the least. He comes off as a no-good daydreamer, arrogant(in a way where you can’t even see him as an ass because he’s so dumb about it),  dimwitted(and completely, utterly unaware of it), lazy af and starts off being quite incompetent as an astrologian due to that declination to work hard. However, he discovers that there is more to astrology than just reading the stars and skies for dragon activity - as a tool for war convenience - and that is the art of HEALING. This is looked down upon by the conservative Ishgardians, and quite honestly, if he wasn’t a son of Ishgard’s highest house, he’d probably be branded a heretic for it. However, NO ONE takes Janne seriously at all as he’s no more than a spoiled but harmless lordling, so everyone is just trying to ignore his antics and let him do his studies in the astrologicum, which is actually founded by the durendaires. It’s like giving your youngest child a gift so that they’re occupied, not because you believe in what they’re trying to do. Here is the thing I keep thinking about, and idk how much of it is headcanon or simply overanalyzing but - The Count de Durendaire just…doesn’t mind what his sons do regardless of how absurd it seems and instead he just showers them with money and freedom to do whatever after what happened with Carvallain.  But emotionally, FATHERLY, he completely fails Jannequinard because he doesn’t even give him the feeling that he actually exists, THAT HIS DREAM EXISTS. Jannequinard is too stubborn to really…SUFFER under this though. Like, I love that thought about him. He seems too dumb to notice, but in reality he’s very much aware of the familial situation - yet, it’s beyond his control so he makes the best out of it - which is getting spoiled with money and the freedom to live out his personal interests without familial interference. However, on rare occassions you notice it still takes it’s toll on him. I’m thinking of the situation in the later AST QL in the western highlands that makes it pretty clear Jannequinard DOES have insecurities regarding being left out of things. Like, at first when leveva, the WoL and quimperain do their thing (tbh he’s at fault bc he’s lazy and doesn’t tag along), he doesn’t even notice or care, but as you get further  in the storyline - the further this group’s friendship/companionship develops - you realize it bugs him when it’s pointed out by a villain how he’s left out of things “I wonder what else they’re hiding from you?”This definitely stems from the lack of attention he gets from his family, I believe this. It’s great that your father showers you with material wealth and protects you through his name, but sometimes that’s just not enough? Especially given how NOBODY, servant or family or even simple citizien, TAKES HIM SERIOUSLY //AT ALL// Though apart in years, Leveva’s father was legit the only person to be a FRIEND to Jannequinard, someone who believed in him and his abilities and asked him to take him along to Ishgard so that they may convey their ideas of healing magicks to the folk.  Leveva’s father was ultimately killed for wanting to share that knowledge and Jannequinard watched him die. there’s a lot he’s been through that’s very, very hidden underneath his comic relief personality. him still BEING so stubborn and immune to direct sarcasm can also be considered as him being an actually strong individual, sometimes. (I love the idiocy and blatant humor those traits ARE as well, of course)Ultimately: Janne’s drive to get people to listen to his ideas isn’t a phase out of wanting recognition as it first seems, it’s keeping his promise to his best friend and suddenly his unwavering ambition is SO admirable to me because no mattter how many people mock him, he never gives up. To see their dream fullfilled, to honor his friend! I cry

All the people I ship romantically with this character: janne/leveva and nothing can stop meJannequinard and Leveva developed into such a huge ship for me. that whole background story with Leveva’s father really sealed the deal for me. There’s the age diff and the fact that being her father’s best friend and her grandfather’s student that’s making it kind of awkward, but tbh?  the writing really makes me adore THEIR interpersonal development. I love how leveva goes from utter annoyance/seeing jannequinard as hopeless to somehow finding it amusing to tease him to caring about him TO BONDING WITH HIM OVER THEIR SHARED AMBITIONS to…to her actually seeing him as an admirable man she started to really like along the way. I love that she ends up calling him “Janne” sometimes (THE INTIMACY OF A NICKNAME), after their bonding moment.And Jannequinard, for all the incompetence he displayed towards her, he also went from finding her antics intimidating/overbearing to being smitten by her drive to actually realize she’s his deceased friend’s daughter and OOh. OOH that’s why her pureness her strive her grace HER BRAVERY reminded him so much of the one person he was close to and OH I really, really care about her? speaking of names, he also goes from “ lady leveva” to just “leveva”, esp. when he’s worried about her.I just love that they find someone they can share their passion with; both go through hard times but the fact that they found each other and end up being supportive of one another through it all is beautiful and they both deserve it.TO ME, this ship is a blessing, I didn’t expect them to get such good interaction when I first started the questline sob.

My non-romantic OTP for this character: I love the quimperain’s reactions towards janne’s stupidity or arrogance it’s a treasure

My unpopular opinion about this character: I don’t find him disgusting or creepy just because the ENG translation fucked up in trying to be funny and inconsistent about his age a few times and I’ll forever defend this amazing man /FIGHT EMOTE

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon:I WANT HIM AND CARVALLAIN TO ACTUALLY MEET ???

my OTP: jannequinard/leveva

a headcanon fact:Oh man, as much as I love this character, I don’t think I have one I really established in my mind yet; You can probably consider half of the “thoughts” section as an answer, though :’)