#prompt 3 tempest

[starrysnowdrop]

FFXIVWrite 2024 #3: Tempest

Noun: a violent commotion, disturbance, or tumult.

During the events of patch 4.0; Yume’s heart is in turmoil over her two losses against the crown prince of Garlemald, and she can’t stop thinking about him.

Twisting and turning, rolling over onto her side, and then onto her back again, Yume just couldn’t seem to settle herself down enough to go to sleep. The bed that was offered to her by Cirina was way more comfortable than the Auri samurai had anticipated; the pillows were extremely soft and the perfect shape for her horns, so she could lie down comfortably in any direction. Yume certainly had slept in much worse accommodations over the years, so it wasn’t anything physical that was cumbersome enough to keep her from sleep this night. Still, getting up and stepping outside for some fresh air could do her some good.

Yume sat up and didn’t bother putting any shoes on, nor a robe, as her lightweight top and shorts covered her enough so that she was decent. As she stood up and walked out of the tent that she was sharing with her comrades, the crisp, night air of the Steppe gently brushed past her face, relaxing her tense muscles enough for her to take a sigh of relief.

Yet even with the cool breeze easing the tension in her body, she didn’t feel anymore tired than before. In fact, the change in atmosphere made her mind wander… and her heart began to beat furiously in her chest as her mind settled once more on her enemy.

Zenos yae Galvus, the crown prince of Garlemald, the heir apparent to the Imperial Throne, and the legatus of the XIIth Legion…

Yume had now faced him twice in single combat, and both times she had been defeated, devastatingly so. She had always prided herself on her martial prowess, and she was especially proud that she had never been defeated in single combat before, against anyone. She had even fought several Imperial legatuses before, Gaius van Baelsar, Regula van Hydrus, and a resurrected Nael van Darnus to be exact.

So why him? Why couldn’t she beat Zenos? Why couldn’t she leave him with any injury whatsoever besides a broken katana and a snapped piece of his helm?

The more Yume thought about both encounters, the more her heart became a roiling, raging tempest that gave rise to conflicting emotions, including some feelings that she had never felt before.

Zenos was the one enemy she couldn’t defeat, which infuriated her to no end; it made her even angrier for her damaged ego, and she would love nothing more than to face him once more so she could finally be granted the victory that she deserved.

And yet… she could not stop thinking about him in other ways… in ways that her comrades would not understand.

Her mind wandered to the way his long, luscious, golden hair flowed around him as he moved; his eyes were as blue as a summer sky and yet were as ravenous as a predatory beast as he stared her down across the battlefield. In their latest encounter, he gave her a chilling smile that shook her to her core. And his voice was deep and coarse yet filled with passion as he spoke the words that haunted her every thought and yet she was still struggling to comprehend what exactly he meant by them:

Oh...how right I was to spare your life.

Hear me, hero. Endure. Survive. Live.

For the rush of blood, for the time between the seconds─live.

For the sole pleasure left to me in this empty, ephemeral world─live!

As she sighed deeply and shook her head, Yume couldn’t deny that she thought Zenos yae Galvus was simply the most beautiful man she had ever seen, and his handsome visage along with his voice had ignited a spark deep inside her that refused to burn out.

The other thought that Yume couldn’t shake off was the fact that if things were different, if Zenos wasn’t her enemy, and she was still her father’s heir, then her father and the rest of the Aino clan would’ve deemed Zenos to be the only one worthy of marrying her, due to him being the only one to defeat her in battle.

Yes, in another life, another time, Zenos could very well have been her husband.

Yume tried to shake the thought from her mind as she shook her head back and forth and slammed her eyes shut. She deemed such thoughts as ridiculous, and yet… her heart skipped a beat.

Yume’s Blog: @firelightmuse

[katalinhunter]

Tempest

Sometimes life came at you like the rush of a storm. It would pick you up, carry you along, pelt you with everything it could. Other times it would be twisting, a spinning, a whirl that takes your breath away as it lifts you, only to drop you right back where you started.

This wasn't one of those times. This was the calm after, the storm passed, clouds on the horizon and maybe they weren't even blowing in your direction.

There was no chance of Katalin fretting or worrying about the next storm. She was fully in the here and now, enjoying her life, still adjusting to the differences between Calico and Corsa'ir. Cal had a shred of her former husband's soul in him which brought with it more similarities then she expected but those also threw the differences into sharp contrast. Not a bad thing, not an urgent thing, just casually adapting, appreciating, wondering, and most definitely not mentioning to him in any detail.

She could hear him finishing up his shower but continued reading, waiting until she came to a good stopping point. The book, a treatise on Yak T'el history, was a bit dry for her tastes but there was good information tucked inside it. A small crystal from that area rested on the table next to her, catching the sunlight that shone into the house. A stylized winged serpent was etched within it.

[an-excellent-choice]

A Tempest of Events - Day 2: Blackstaff Student AU

It has only been a few months since Aoide, the exchange student specializing druidic magic, arrived in Blackstaff but for Gale it feels like it's been a lifetime. While their afternoon study sessions and late night talks have made Gale neglect his studies and duties to Mystra. All their talks, shared glances and soft touches made it all worth for Gale.

An AU were Gale and Aoide met in Blackstaff. Them becoming sweethearts and Gale never becoming a Mystra's chosen because he follows Aoide when she had to go back to her grove.

[chocoblep]

#3: Fighting Form

Prompt: Tempest

Kismet took a single step backward as he flipped one of his daggers into a backward grip. Across the mats in the basement of Nightingale House, Shev did the same as he shook out his hands and brought them up in front of him. This was their third match of the night, as they were both trying to get back into their respective fighting forms. For Shev, it had been a while, and Kismet’s first fight back at the Tavern had been nigh on disastrous. And so, he and Shev faced off, as partners who like to fight are wont to do.

Neither of them moved for a long time, both of them waiting for the other to make the first attack, but it was Shev who budged first. He didn’t come in for a strike, no; instead, he straightened up and walked along the side of the mats, as if sizing Kismet up for something altogether different that had the lavender-haired viera arching a brow.

“Like what you see, Silvertongue?” Kismet queried, the amused curve of his lips drawing a lopsided smirk from the taller viera.

“Yer well put-together, aye,” Shev replied, moving far too casually for a fight. If Kismet didn’t know any better, he’d have let down his guard. But he did know better. Shev was, in essence, a walking force of nature, and the predatory glint in his golden eyes had Kismet tightening his grip on one of his blades. “It’s almost like yer beggin’ me t’ take ya apart.”

Kismet didn’t move from his spot, but two fingers rose from his backward blade in preparation. When Shev’s eyes darted to those fingers, Kismet sneered at him. “I’ll only beg if you win, sweetheart,” he practically purred.

Shev rolled a shoulder, and then shrugged. “Well, I’ve got some work t’do then, aye?”

He didn’t wait for an answer, but Kismet was anticipating his lunge. He flipped his blades in the air and smacked his hands together, rapidly forming three mudra as Shev hurtled toward him. When he extended his hands, a column of water enveloped the other viera, and Kismet caught his daggers again and stepped through the shadows to the other side of the geyser before Shev burst out of it, water running in rivulets over the shield that the ward ring had put on his person.

“Ah, normally I’d offer a blow-dry with your wash, but the water doesn’t seem to be sticking,” he called out, and Shev wheeled around to face him.

“Nice trick, lad,” Shev called back, and no sooner had the words left this mouth was he slamming into Kismet, driving him into one of the invisible ward-walls. “Got a few ‘a my own.” A quick one-two with his elbow and fist kept Kismet pinned there, but not for long.

As soon as Shev shifted again, Kismet slipped downward and away, aiming a slash at Shev’s leg as he whirled around him. He dodged a knee meant for his gut and two punches aimed at his solar plexus and his head before thrusting an arm up to block a swift snap-kick.

“Orange already,” Shev commented as he kept up with his assault. Kismet paid it no mind; his shield was lower in integrity than Shev’s was, but that was fine. He just needed to bide his time and strike when he could. “Best get yer knees ready.” A flurry of punches dodged, and one parried with a quick swipe of Kismet’s arm, which he then snapped inward for a slash at Shev’s exposed midsection. The taller viera’s lantern flickered to join Kismet’s, bathing both of them in a warm pumpkin glow.

“Whose knees?” Kismet retorted, pressing the attack. Shadow-stepping behind Shev, he swiftly stabbed his knives inward toward the man’s kidneys, but Shev was too quick and half-turned, dodging both thrusts and planting his heel in Kismet’s hip, knocking him back and sending one of his daggers clattering across the floor.

“I didn’t agree to beg, Sta–”

Anything else Shev was about to say was cut off as Kismet threw out his free hand, this time closing it into a fist as if around an invisible string. He yanked his hand back toward himself and Shev doubled over with a gasp, trying but failing to take in any air. Kismet didn’t pull the air away from him for long; just enough to keep him off-balance before darting in for a decisive blow to his ribcage with his remaining dagger.

Shev’s lamp went deep crimson as Kismet let him breathe again, and he answered with a series of maneuvers that Kismet had only ever seen him practice slowly. This was at rapid speed, though, and as the pair of them dodged and weaved around each other, Shev picked up his momentum again. Kismet didn’t realize that Shev was channeling aether until fire was licking up the other’s arm, and as Shev went in for a fire-laced palm strike, Kismet tried to push all of the air around him at the man to drive him back.

It wasn’t the greatest idea he’d ever had, but it worked. The air ignited the fire, and the resulting explosion threw them both back into opposite walls. Shev’s shield went down then, and he called the match in Kismet’s favor. As they met in the middle of the mats, Shev put his hands on his hips and watched Kismet. “Y’know, I wonder if we could combine those somehow without blowin’ ourselves up in th’ process. Yer wind, and a fire strike? Could make a right flamethrower.”

Kismet grabbed his fallen dagger and sheathed both of them with a thoughtful look on his face. “Maybe not your close-range elemental abilities, that’d have too much of a chance to hurt you. But something like… Roelle’s lightning? We could make a lightning storm at a longer range.”

“Hells, I wouldn’t wanna be on th’ receivin’ end ‘a tha’,” Shev mused. They started toward the bar, simultaneously snaking arms around each other as they walked. “Whatcha want ta drink, Starlight? I’ll make ya somethin’.”

“Anything’s fine,” Kismet responded with a smile and a sideways glance, “ as long as I don’t have to beg for it.”

[quirkycoterie]

Rock Hound

The traveling inventor, dancer, fortune teller with her bobbed hair was dressed in more practical clothing than when most spoken saw her. She was also clinging to a rock face gathering what would just be seen as a plain old rock to many but was fascinating to her. She slowly, painstakingly excavated what she desired from the visible dyke skewed by a fault line and was so absorbed in her work she was almost thrown from the cliff side by sudden winds. Her long thin fingers had to tighten and one of her feet had to find purchase again.

She scolded herself internally for not watching for the dust storms. She pulled a scarf over her face and took in her situation. The sands would be upon her before she could descend to her caravan. It and the chocobo team were in a good nested spot and would be fine. She glanced around for a solution before remembering she had seen a smallish but possibly accommodating crevasse slightly below and to the left of her current position when climbing and she moved as rapidly as possible to the spot.

The crevasse was indeed just large enough to allow her to squeeze in and she sighed a small relief as the first dense, scouring sands crossed over it just as she was inside. Her eyes adjusted to the darker area after a minute and she realized the crevasse was not just a crevasse. She slid her tall but slim frame a few fulms further in and was suddenly standing in a large cavern. She pulled a torch from her bag and lit it. From all around the cavern exposed gemstones and aether crystals winked in the light of the torch. It seemed the storm had done her a large favor. She pulled a pick out and went back to work.

[abyssalmermaiden]

Logistics Node my friend

Febhyurary 18- Mount

[sea-wolf-coast-to-coast]

Prompt #3: Tempest

Submit your entry here: https://forms.gle/jDWjFKfmeaGnH3PL9

#FFxivWrite2024 is underway – a daily writing challenge presented to the Final Fantasy XIV writing community for the month of September. You can join any time throughout the challenge with any prompt number! Entries can be written on any online writing platform (tumblr, Archive of our Own, Google Docs, etc.). Submit the link and be sure that I have reading access. Reminder: The 24-hour deadline does not go into effect until September 8th at 12:00 pm PDT. Check you entries here in the Public Spreadsheet

Rules & Info || Prompt List || #FFxivWrite2024 || kofi

[bluepallilworld]

Aftermare week 2024 here it comes!

Here are links to the previous editions if you're curious ;P

Last year/2022/2021

11th of july->17th of july

Prompts:

Walking in/ walking out

Blue sky/ tempest

Satiated/starving

Laughing/crying

You and me/ us

Building/destroying

The sun is shining/the sky is crying/the clouds are thriving

Rules:

the ship "aftermare" is between Geno and passive/uncorrupted Nightmare. You can use the corrupted version but the 2 must have known the other before corruption <3

-you can add other ships or ocs etc as long as aftermare remain the main pairing!

-any art can be used (drawing, writing, cooking, sewing, snorkeling...)

-you can use aus

- Nightmare must be adult obviously !!!!! (I'm saying that since canonly Night' had the accident when he was 6 >w<) (unless you're making the two children and going for a platonic angle)

-there are 2 prompts for each day, you must choose one OwO/ (last day is special with 3)

-Ooooooor you can mix the two prompts ;). For exemple : day 5 -> "you and us" etc (it's a bit harder to do that with this year's prompts :3)

-only SFW please UwU (light gore is autorized as long as it is tagged properly)

-romantic or platonic ship your choice ;)

-Have fun, mess around, break the rules (not the rules I'm writing here tho 'k òwó). I love seeing creativity ! Jump over days, mess with the order, find an original way to follow the prompts or just ignore them ! The prompts are more guidelines than anything :D

-don't forget to tag it as "aftermare week 2024" so people who want to avoid it can!!! (And tag me I wanna see everything) 🎉

If you're going to participate or are just interested by the event, don't hesitate to give this post a reblog ÙwÚ

Or to ask questions if you have some ;3

[storyweaverofgondor]

The Whumps of March

This is a multi-fandom whump event with prompts inspired by literature. For this inaugural event, I decided to take inspiration from the Bard himself. If it goes well I'd love to do it again next year, the universe willing.

Rules and info:

You can make your entries in whatever format you desire (Fanfic, art, Gifs, etc)

You can do as much or as little as you desire.

All entries are to be uploaded during March 2024. Earlier is discouraged but late is fine.

Tag all works #thewhumpsofmarch2024

There will be a completionist and participant badges.

The Whumps of March AO3 Collection

Feel free to send me an asks is you have any questions about the event

The Whumps of March Prompts:

Day 1: These violent delights have violent ends (Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet)

Day 2: Forbidden Love

Day 3: Tomb

Day 4: Vengeance

Day 5: Love Potion

Day 6: Magic Gone Wrong

Day 7: Suicide

Day 8: Knock Knock! Who's There? (Shakespeare, Macbeth)

Day 9: Twins

Day 10: In Disguise

Day 11: Clangor

Days 12: Thunderstorm

Day 13: Soliloquy

Day 14: “Hell is empty and all the devils are here.” (Shakespeare, the Tempest)

Day 15: Stabbed in the Back

Day 16: Madness

Day 17: Intrigue

Day 18: Family Feud

Day 19: Witches

Day 20: Hidden Agenda

Day 21: Curses

Day 22: Skull

Day 23: Not As It Seems

Day 24: "The robbed that smiles, steals something from the thief." (Shakespeare, Othello)

Day 25: Shipwreck

Day 26: Betrayal

Day 27: All for Naught

Day 28: Fairies

Day 29: Tongue-tied

Day 30: Woe

Day 31: Bloodstained

Alternative Prompts:

Alt 1:Lonely

Alt 2:Castigate

Alt 3:Ghosts

Alt 4:Drowned

Alt 5:Prophecy

Alt 6:Kings

Alt 7:Dead as a Doornail

Alt 8:Handkerchief

Alt 9:Snakes

Alt 10:Fight Fire With Fire

[daitranscripts]

Iron Bull Masterpost

Main Quest Cutscenes:

Recruitment Pre-Skyhold: The Bull’s Chargers Recruitment Post-Skyhold: The Bull’s Chargers From the Ashes: A Few Faces Here Lies the Abyss: Anti-Demon Stick

Prompted Conversations:

The Threat Remains: It’s At The Top In Hushed Whispers: That’s Honest Champions of the Just: Always Staying Positive Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts: That Was a Mess What Pride Had Wrought: That’s Easy Post-game - Investigate: Let's Talk About Being Qunari (Qunari PC) Investigate: Tell Me About Qunari Investigate: Tell Me of the Ben-Hassrath Investigate: Tell Me About Seheron Investigate: Why The Name Iron Bull? - Special: So… You and Dorian? Specialization: Tempest Specialization: Champion Specialization: Reaver

Personal Quest - Demands of the Qun:

Pt. 1 - Letter From the Ben-Hassrath Pt. 2 - Qunari Contact Pt. 3 - Gatt Pt. 4 - Plan of Attack Pt. 5 - A Choice Pt. 6a - Tal-Vashoth Pt. 6b - Alliance - Investigate: How's Our Qunari Alliance?

Approval:

Dragon Hunting - Warm Approval: Meet the Chargers Warm Approval: Tell Me About Your Troops High Approval: Hissrad High Approval: A Courtesy

Romance:

Let's Talk About Us - Ride The Bull Walking Funny Tough Love Kadan - Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts: After the Ball Ending

Trespasser:

Catching Up With Iron Bull Prompted Conversation

Deleted Dialogue

Companion Masterpost

[luna-azzurra]

Some love realization prompts to evoke those heartfelt moments in your writing

1. The Glimpse of Perfection:

"As he watched her from across the room, a sudden realization washed over him like a wave. In that very moment, he saw her imperfections and quirks as the most beautiful aspects of her being, and he knew he was helplessly in love."

2. The Puzzle Pieces Falling into Place:

"Through all the ups and downs, he couldn't ignore the profound connection they shared. It was as if the universe had conspired to bring them together, and in that magical moment, he realized that she was the missing piece he had been searching for."

3. The Echoing Laughter:

"Her laughter echoed in his ears, filling the air with a symphony of joy. And as he found himself laughing alongside her, he realized that her happiness had become inseparable from his own, and he knew deep in his heart that he was falling madly in love."

4. The Comfort in Vulnerability:

"In the quiet moments of vulnerability, she shared her fears and dreams with him, trusting him with her deepest secrets. And as he held her in his arms, he realized that he had become her safe haven, and his love for her blossomed in that tender embrace."

5. The Magnetizing Presence:

"Whenever they were apart, a void consumed his heart. But in her presence, everything seemed brighter, lighter. It was in those moments, when her mere existence filled him with warmth and contentment, that he knew he had fallen deeply in love."

6. The Unforgettable Gesture:

"She stood before him, holding a bouquet of his favorite flowers. As he accepted the gift, their eyes locked, and he saw the thoughtfulness and care etched in her gaze. In that instant, he realized that her happiness was his priority, and his love for her grew immeasurably."

7. The Shield Against the Storm:

"Through life's challenges and storms, she stood by his side, offering unwavering support and encouragement. In those difficult moments, he recognized that her love was his anchor, shielding him from the tempests of life, and he couldn't imagine a future without her."

8. The Mirror of Reflection:

"He found himself reflecting on his life, tracing the paths that led him to this moment. And in that introspection, he recognized that she had become an integral part of his story—a presence that had transformed his world, and he embraced the love that bloomed within him."

9. The Whisper of Destiny:

"As their eyes met, a sense of familiarity washed over him. It was as if their souls had known each other in a different time and place. In that profound connection, he realized that their meeting was no mere coincidence but a destined encounter, and love unfurled within him."

10. The Clarity of Silence:

"In the quiet moments of shared silence, he felt an indescribable peace enveloping his heart. It was in those wordless exchanges that he recognized the depth of their connection, and the realization struck him—she was his soulmate, and he was unequivocally in love."

[galedekarios]

i love your metas and gifs of gale!! do you have any particular headcanon for when his birthday is? i always imagine it being in winter for some reason.

thank you so much for your message and your kind words!

i hadn't thought about it before, but ever since i got your message and took some time to mull it over, i've settled on something that i think makes sense for gale.

i wrote a meta about waterdhavian festivals and celebrations, and before i delved deeper into the topic, i briefly touched on the calendar that is most widely used in faerûn:

i like to imagine he was born somewhere in the month of tarsakh, the claw of storms. i think it's a good fit largely because of gale's connection to storms, thunder and lightning and similar imagery.

from his key art (click for a larger version):

to his art for the mtg card set (click for a larger version):

to a not insignificant amount of lines of dialogue from gale referencing storms, tempests, winds, etc., which prompted me in early access to make a gifset of a handful of them:

gale: as for myself: i'm a pragmatic. i see the silence before the storm.

gale: there's a gust of the weave about you, but it's a mere breeze. i need a tempest.

gale: rather soon i will feel it [the orb] stir again - like a distant thunder sending tremors through the soul. i will need to consume another artefact before the lightning strikes.

gale: i can feel the storm abating. yes, this will keep my condition in check - for a precious while.

gale: life is a tempest of events that sometimes we brace against and sometimes embrace.

(there are also some of his selection lines like "a rough tempest i will raise." and "let's light them up.")

to his very name carrying the same connection:

Joy; Wind Meaning: Joy; Wind; Tranquility; My father is joy; Gives joy; Foreigner, outlander. Gale is a gender-neutral name of English origin with a range of diverse meanings, including “joy,” “wind,” or “tranquility.” It was derived from the Old English word gal, which was used to describe someone who was pleasant or merry.

and of course the word gale itself:

A gale is a strong wind; the word is typically used as a descriptor in nautical contexts.

(all of this originally, way back when, made me think that gale might have been first meant to be / conceived as a storm sorcerer.

we knew in early access that he had such a deep connection to the weave from very early on in his life, and in full release that was only confirmed even more with gale having been able to cast spells as a baby, summoning rabbits in his mother's pantry, as well as being able to cast third-level spells like fireball at age 8 or perhaps younger.)

so yes, tarsakh, the claw of storms makes a really good fit for gale in my eyes.

if i had to pick a day as well, i might pick a number commonly associated with magic like 3 (perfect balance of harmony, wisdom understanding / the number of time past, present, future), 7 or 13, but i realise it's an arbitrary pick on my side.

edited to say that i also like the idea of it being in a spring month because spring symbolises new beginnings, letting go of the old and bringing in the new, which i find very fitting given gale's character arc.

anyhow, thank you so much for your question! i had a lot of fun thinking about this! 🖤

[takamimami]

Hello!

Congratulations on your 100 followers 🥳!!!!!

I'd like to ask you Kid with prompt 12: "You make me a better person." f!reader please 😉

Hi anons!! I apologize for this taking so long - I got hit with some vicious PMDD the past two weeks and had ZERO motivation to do anything at all, let alone write. I wanted to make sure I could give you something I was proud of - and I can gladly say that I did just that :3 I hope you enjoy the read, and thanks again for your submissions!!

Kidd x F!Reader - SFW - "You make me a better person." - STORY UNDER THE CUT CW: FLUFF; kidd proposes, bro is a bumbling idiot in the cutest way ever, I'm so hopelessly in love with him help me, gentle kidd will be the death of me ---word count 1.7k

It’d been four days since you’d seen Kidd.

Four days.

The occasional disappearance of your captain had come to be expected, seeing as the man needed his alone time to decompress from time to time, but four days were impressive even for him.

Especially considering that the entire time the crew had been out at sea, meaning you were never more than a few yards away from him at any given point. 

You’d begun to contemplate asking Killer if he had fallen overboard without anyone noticing when a disheveled head of red hair burst into the kitchen, grumbling in Killer’s direction and motioning for him to follow him.

You stood up and Kidd’s eyes snapped to you, the intensity in them causing your step to falter. When you stopped moving his eyes shifted to Killer, who then turned to face you and reached an arm out to rest a hand on your shoulder.

“Y/N, listen,” he starts, and Kidd disappears through the door as he blocks you from following after him.

“This isn’t going to make any sense, but just… don’t follow him right now, okay?” 

Your brows furrowed and you inhaled deeply to protest, but Killer continued before you had a chance to offer your rebuttal.

“I know,” he sighs, hands waving in the air in front of him, “I know. He’s… I don’t even know what to tell you is up with him right now. Just, leave him be for a bit longer, okay?”

The concern must have been evident on your face because Killer returned his hand to your shoulder, rubbing it in an attempted reassuring gesture.

“Did… did I do something?” Your voice was shaky with concern, but much to your surprise Killer lets out a laugh at your question.

A laugh.

“Technically… yes,” he chuckles, and despite your confusion, the answer manages to loosen the tension that had built in your shoulders.

“Just… trust me, okay? I promise you it will be worth the wait.”

You swear you can see him wink at you through his mask as he turns and walks out of the kitchen and toward where Kidd disappeared.

You took a deep breath before returning to your task at hand, and once you’d finished the dishes you wiped down the counters before heading up to the crow’s nest to relieve Bubblegum for the night.

You brought a book with you to distract you from the nagging thoughts of Kidd, but it did little to calm the tempest of thoughts swirling in your head. You found yourself replaying your last encounters with your lover in your head to try to figure out what had triggered this reaction from him, but you came up empty-handed with every scenario, inevitably ending up flipping through the pages of your book as you desperately try to get a grip of your mind.

You continue this cycle until the sun finally starts to peek up over the edge of the water and House greets you with a sleepy smile at the crow’s nest door, signaling the end of your watch shift. 

You scaled the ladder quickly and disappeared below deck, hoping a shower and a nap would help ease your mind enough to let you fall asleep before tending to your afternoon duties. 

As you pull open the door to your and Kidd’s cabin, you are startled to find him sitting on the edge of your bed, his head resting on his hands – which are resting on his knees.

You curled an eyebrow at him curiously as you crossed the room, not sure what reaction you would get from him as you leaned in to press a soft kiss to his temple.

“Hi,” you greet him quietly, the timidness in your voice causing him to look up at you with weary eyes.

“Hey.”

You stand before him for a moment before deciding to continue with your original plan, turning to move for the bathroom door. 

“I’m going to shower and get some sleep,” you mumble, looking back over your shoulder to survey Kidd. He just simply nods, making no effort to move from his spot on the bed.

You shuffle through the room in search of a towel, slinging one over your shoulder once you find it and reaching for the door handle of the bathroom.

“Did I do something?”

Your movements stop as you let the question fall from your lips, unable to bear this tension any longer. You don’t turn to look at Kidd, instead you keep your eyes trained on the bathroom door before you until you hear his weight shift on the bed behind you.

A strong arm snakes around your waist and before you have time to protest you’re being turned around to face him, a shit-eating grin plastered on his face as you look up at him.

First, Killer… now him?

“What the fuck is so fun-?!”

Your words are cut off as his lips connect to yours, your irritation dissolving as his teeth pull your bottom lip in between his own. He bites down lightly and your lips part for him, his tongue pressing inside your mouth and tangling with your own.

The kiss is soft and short, and a heartbeat later Kidd is pulling away from you, tugging your hand into his as he leads you toward the door.

“Where are we going?”

“Shush,” he grunts, pulling you out into the hall and up onto the deck of the Victoria Punk. You follow him up the stairs of the helm, his steps finally coming to a halt as he reaches the railing.

The sunrise pulls your attention as you listen to the sound of waves crashing against the hull of the ship, the distraction only temporary as Kidd drops your hand and starts digging through his pockets.

“What the fuck is going on, Kidd?”

He stops fumbling around and looks at you, eyes softer than usual as he speaks.

“I was supposed to wait until we docked, but I don’t want to anymore,” he starts, pulling a crinkled piece of paper from his pocket. 

He clears his throat and holds the paper out in front of him, eyes scanning over the words on it before he clears his throat. 

“Y/N,” he starts, his voice slightly wobbly, “I’ve tried to figure out how the hell I wanted to do this for months now, and every time I thought I had a good idea, I ended up hating it and going back to the drawing board.”

Footsteps on the staircase behind you pull your attention, but just as quickly as he appears, Killer disappears back down the stairs, as if he’d stumbled upon something he wasn’t supposed to.

Kid grunts before reaching for your hand, pulling your gaze back to him as he starts to speak again.

“I sat at my desk for hours trying to put the perfect words onto this paper, and the longer I tried the more stupid it sounded. Ugh, wait - not stupid,” he runs his hand through his hair in distress. “This isn’t stupid, that’s not what I meant, I jus-”

You reach out and cup his face in your hand, a small reassuring smile curling onto your lips as a single tear pools in the corner of your eye as you realize what is happening.

Kid grunts again, sighing heavily as he leans into your touch, “I’m sorry,” he breathes, crumpling the piece of paper and letting it fall to the floor, “I don’t know the right words to say, so I’m not going to sit here and read you some script off of a piece of paper.”

He pulls his face from your hand and kneels down to the floor, at the same time that the first tear falls down your cheek. He shoves his hand in his pocket and reaches for your left hand with his metal one, eyes growing slightly hazy as he looks up at you.

“I-I don’t know how you did it, but you managed to make me rethink e-everything in my life,” he stumbles through the words, “I still don’t think I deserve to have you by my side, but I thank the gods they dropped you in my lap that night because I don’t know where or who I would be if I hadn’t met you.”

“You’ve loved every version of me, unconditionally, and without intentionally trying, you made me a better person – a better version of myself. Which is pretty impressive because I was already pretty fucking great when you met me.”

You let out a choked laugh, though it sounds more like a sob due to the tears now streaming down your cheeks as you stare at the ring resting in Kidd’s hand.

“All I know,” he says after chuckling to himself, “Is that I want you… I need you by my side, forever.”

Your heart stills as Kidd raises his hand, revealing the ring he’d spent the last three nights perfecting for you, unbeknownst to you. 

He slides the ring on your finger and you realize your hands are shaking, you bring your hand up to your face and admire the craftsmanship of the ring for a moment, before dropping your hand back down to his and staring down at him through bleary eyes.

“So is this you asking me to marry you?”

Your question makes Kidd’s smile drop, and he cocks a brow at you as he looks between you and the ring.

“Isn’t that obvious?”

You ignore the attitude in his tone and smirk at him, cocking your hip to the side as you cross your arms.

“You didn’t ask the question,” you muse, smirk growing as he rolls his eyes, “Or do I not get a choice in the matter?”

He smirks at that suggestion and stands, wrapping an arm around your waist as he pulls you into his embrace.

“Glad you know that ‘No’ isn’t an option here,” he teases, leaning down and pressing a quick and gentle kiss to your lips. He pulls back slightly and meets your gaze, his eyes sparkling from the glow of the distant sunrise.

“Will you?”

“Will I, what?”

Kidd pinches your side and you yelp, giggling as he squeezes you in his arm tighter.

“Marry me, brat.”

You fling your arms around his neck as a fresh set of tears begin to fall, crashing your lips into his. You feel his shoulders relax as he deepens the kiss, twirling your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck as he pulls back from you moments later.

“Of course I will, asshole.”

100 Follower Event Masterlist ✨come say hai :3✨

[dragons-bones]

FFXIV Write Entry #3: Levinstrike

Prompt: tempest || Master Post || On AO3

A/N: Spoilers through the beginning of zone five. Mentions of someone throwing up, but said mention is non-graphic.

*stares contemplatively at this prompt fill* ...yeah, I'm gonna run cover.

*runs for cover*

--

There were a lot of reasons for why Rereha was finding herself very much not liking Yyasulani.

First and foremost, of course, was the giant purple dome of fucking doom that had engulfed the region, spat out murderous magitek automatons led by an equally murderous patricide with a chip on his shoulder, and resulted in the heartbreak and misery of a multitude of Turali, including her darling new not-so-little sister, Lamaty’i. (Lamaty’i had dibs on Zoraal Ja’s head, but Rereha would gladly do a live retelling of how she’d killed Zenos at the edge of the universe with her bow, using that warmongering asshole as her “assistant.”)

Second was the fact that Erenville, normally a bastion of cool-headedness and acerbic wit that rode herd on them all better than even Heron, Queen of the ‘I’m Not Mad Just Disappointed’ Face, was currently a spooked, jumpy, and generally upset young man. With every step they took, Erenville grew tenser and tenser, until he was practically vibrating with it, and unable to mask just how shaken he was to see his home so strangely aged and decrepit. Rereha did not like to see her friends (even the ones who refused to acknowledge they were, actually, friends) upset. Someone needed to be made miserable for this. (Probably Zoraal Ja.)

Third was all the gods-forsaken levin within the confines of the dome. Static snapped and crackled and popped (hah, that had a nice ring to it, actually) across all of them, and across every surface, and the only reason they likely weren’t shocking themselves was the sheer amount of levin aether soaking into everything, even making it difficult to breathe. Synnove had summoned Ipomoea, and the unaspected carbuncle was carefully perched on her person’s shoulder while maintaining a light shield around their group to lessen the pressure of so much fucking levin on them.

Fourth, and newest on the list, was the fact that little Roksana—not quite so little as she had once been like a bitty squishy Heavensturn mochi, the steady infusions of aether over the years ensuring she and her sister were now two-thirds the size of Galette—had just spontaneously manifested at Synnove’s feet.

Alone.

That is, by herself.

No Amandina.

Which had never, ever happened before.

Ever.

Synnove’s face was doing the kind of journey between expressions that would likely result in a pulled muscle and would, under any other circumstance, be funny to witness, but right now just made Rereha feel ill.

Mommy, Roksana warbled, eyes huge and teary, something’s wrong with Amandina.

“Oh, fuck this place in the ear,” Rereha said under her breath as the party dissolved into chaos.

--

They had hurriedly backtracked to Yyasulani Station and holed up in one of the decaying buildings. Synnove had folded herself onto the floor cross-legged, her bracelet of carbuncle foci cupped in her hands, and had spent a full bell coaxing Amandina into manifesting.

The black pearl carbuncle looked terrible as Synnove gently cuddled her. Her ears and tails were drooping, the aetheric glow of her coat was dim and dusty with no sign of the pretty purple among the black strands of her fur, and her eyes and nose were gummy and crusty and just gross. The poor baby looked like how Rereha felt after one of those stupid parties she used to attend as a dumbass socialite fuckwit in Ul’dah, and she resisted the urge to swipe at her own nose.

Mommy, I [have a tummy ache.]

Amandina’s harmonic had warped and rippled, ringing with multiple tones of trying to translate an untranslatable concept. Now Rereha wanted to reach into her own brain and scratch frantically to relieve the itchiness hearing that had left in her grey matter.

“What,” Lamaty’i whispered, arm raised up to rub her temple across the leather embossing on her collar as her ears twitched at high speed, “the fuck.”

“Your mind essentially force-translated Amandina’s aetheric harmonic into words you can understand,” Krile said, blinking rapidly and reaching up to rub at her eyes.

“At least into the closest approximation,” G’raha said, scritching frantically at the back of his neck until Alisaie swatted his hand away.

Amadina groaned, turning in Synnove’s arms and pulling herself up so she could burrow her face into her mama’s neck. Synnove carefully adjusted her grip on the carbunclet, one hand supporting her butt and the other stroking her head and ears, while Roksana, who had been draped atop Synnove’s head like a weird hat, practically oozed down on top of her twin. Ipomoea, perched on Synnove’s knee, wore an unfocused expression that meant she was still in the middle of running a full diagnostic scan.

“It’s all this fucking levin,” Synnove growled. “Her aspect means she’s already highly sensitive to levin aether, sure, but none of the carbuncles have ever been somewhere where they’ve been exposed to such dangerous levels of their respective aspected aethers.”

“Not even in Eureka?” G’raha said, ears perking. “I would have thought Anemos and Pyros would have posed some danger to Galette and Ivar.”

Synnove shook her head.

“The density of elemental aether was unprecedented at the concentrations encountered on Val,” Krile said, “but it does not compare to what has happened to Yyasulani. Despite each region of the island being warped to reflect their elemental aspects, they were also balancing one another, which allowed such diversity in wildlife to continue thriving. The amount of levin here has essentially rendered Yyasulani…”

“…ecologically dead,” Erenville finished, voice flat and eyes shuttered, even as a shudder briefly shook his frame. Lamaty’i pulled him into a one-armed hug and for once, Erenville didn’t fight it.

(Rere wondered if Lamaty’i was adding items to her mental tally of crimes for which to hold Zoraal Ja responsible. Rere certainly was.)

[Suggestion: Mistress Synnove,] Ipomoea said, her harmonic oddly distant as she continued her scan of Amandina, [a temporary ward on Junior Construct Amandina’s aetheric input sub-array may provide relief of symptoms. Estimation: effectiveness currently calculated at fifty-three point six five seven percent.]

“We’ll get started on mapping that once you’ve finished your diagnostic,” Synnove said, continuing to stroke Amandina’s ears down along her spine. “Amandina, do you want to de-manifest?”

Noooooooo, Amandina whined. Mommy cuddles feel good.

[Observation: physical contact has decreased hazardous levels of levin in Junior Construct Amandina by three point eight percent.]

“Hmm, might be actually be siphoning it off,” Synnove muttered, then sighed. “Carrying Amandina isn’t ideal as we’re reconning, but perhaps—”

Static SNAPPED through the room, causing them all to jump. Amandina whimpered.

Mommy, I think I’m gonna throw up.

There was a flurry of movement as Roksana scrambled off her sister and jumped into Rereha’s outstretched arms, Ipomoea leaped backwards, and Synnove scrambled to her knees, pulling Amandina off her shoulder as Heron dove forward with a pot yanked off Erenville’s gleaner pack. Heron got the pot beneath Amandina’s face just in time, and the poor carbunclet made an awful HRRK noise as levin aether so concentrated it was a liquid poured from her mouth.

Synnove twitched, jerking her head up to the stare at the ceiling even as she kept petting Amandina and making soothing noises in her throat. Heron had gone grey, and Rereha distantly noted similar expressions on Alakhai, Alisaie, and G’raha.

Who was she kidding, she was wearing it, too. Good to know she wasn’t the only one fighting back a bad flashback to certain events on the First.

Seriously, fuck this place in the ear. With something hard and sandpapery.

…I kinda feel a little better. Amandina’s harmonic very softly drifted through Rere’s mind. The carbunclet’s upper body was still mostly in the pot, until Synnove carefully picked her up and set to cleaning her face.

“Mages, on me,” Synnove snapped. Krile, G’raha, and Alisaie darted into motion, with Alisaie digging into Synnove’s pack and emerging with chalk, graphite sticks, and scrap paper as Krile and G’raha began clearing a spot on the floor. Synnove walked forward on her knees, then sat again with Amandina curling into a miserable, sniffling ball in her lap at the edge of the new workspace. “We’re making that ward now, and I’ve even got an idea on how to adapt it for non-aetheric individuals like ourselves to make this shithole less awful for us. Sorry, Erenville.”

“No, you’re right,” the Shetona said, forcing himself into motion to begin setting up a temporary camp for them all. “This is a shithole now.”

“I’ll give Zoraal Ja an extra punch for you,” Lamaty’i said solemnly.

“I actually appreciate that,” Erenville said wrily. “Rereha, could you dispose of the pot? I’ve got another and I’d rather not try to salvage that one.”

“Can do,” Rere said, tucking Roksana under her arm and darting forward to grab the ruined pot by the handle. “Come on, kiddo, let’s go dig a hole.”

Oooooh, digging, yay!

Awww, the sound of Amandina’s grumbling followed them out the door. Being sick stinks.

[ainyan]

FFXIV Write - Day 3: Tempest

Outside was a beautiful day; the sun was shining, there was a breeze whistling through the canyons, and the spray of the waterfall outside cooled the sultry Thanalan air. The heady scent of blooming flowers hung heavy above the gardens, inviting a moment of contemplation surrounded by brilliant color. The world spun on in lazy harmony.

But that was outside.

Inside was a virtual tempest, and Thancred knew if he did not tread carefully, it could become a literal one. Kal’istae’s anger was a palpable thing, boiling in his heart and hers until the air between them nearly simmered from the heat of it.

And she had a right to it, he had to admit. He had deliberately gone behind her back, made a unilateral decision that directly contradicted one they had made together. That he had done so with only the best of intentions would mean nothing to her, and he knew she wouldn’t accept his arguments.

But he had to try.

“She’s a natural, Kali.”

“She’s eleven years old, Thancred!”

He winced visibly. “Only two years younger than Ryne when I gave her her first daggers, and she’s already yalms and malms ahead of her.”

There was a distant rumble of thunder and a whiff of ozone in the air. As Thancred watched, the thin wisps of hair that had escaped her braid began to rise, and he could feel the thin hairs on the nape of his neck follow suit. “Thancred,” she said, her voice low and furious.

“She’s my daughter too, Kal’istae,” he said, and, suddenly tired, he sank onto the edge of the bed, gazing up at his wife. “Xarise is not like Minyda, she’s not like you. There’s magic there, but it is a pale, pale flame compared to you or her sister. Her gifts lie in other directions. My direction.”

Again, thunder rumbled, but the longer that Kal’istae gazed at Thancred, the less obvious the effects of her temper, and finally, the brewing tempest died away with a final sputter of sparks from the metal decorations upon her horns. Wearily, she crossed to the bed and sat down beside him, reaching for his hand. “I’m afraid, Thancred. Xari is so young.”

“So was I,” he murmured, lifting her hand to his lips and gazing into her frustrated indigo eyes. “Younger than she, but hunger is a harsh teacher. Our daughters will never have the kind of childhoods we had - they will never know hunger, or cold, or privation, will never know the pain of sacrifice.”

She closed her eyes and leaned into him, resting her forehead against his shoulder. “I don’t want my life for my daughters. Our daughters.”

The Warrior of Light. These days, even Thancred sometimes forgot. The world spun on, indifferent to the changes she had wrought, the frameworks her actions had built for unification across the face of the known land. Calls upon their linkshells came but infrequently these days, and tended to be casual in nature; a request for advice, a desire for company, delivery of joyous news. So rarely now was it a plea for aid, a cry for salvation.

The world spun on, and the sun was bright.

The tempest had passed.

“Xarise will never make the decisions you made, the sacrifices you made. But she is our daughter, my heart, and she has your tempestuous nature and my brash one in spades.” When he felt her lips curve in a reluctant smile against his shoulder, he slid his arm about her and drew her against his side. “I will teach her. I will guide her.”

Releasing the last of her temper, Kal’istae turned, wrapping her arms around her husband. “There’s no one better to do it,” she sighed. “Just… watch over her. She and I may never see eye to eye on much, but she’s still my daughter. My baby.”

“Our daughter. Our baby.” When he tucked his finger under her chin and tilted her head back, she met his kiss with her own, and all was right again.

The sun was bright. The tempest had passed. And their world spun on in harmony.

FFXIV Write 2024 (Daily Prompt List)

Day 3 - Tempest

OC: Kal'istae Miurani

NPCs: Thancred Waters

AU: Woven Souls (Canon AU)

[coldshrugs]

ffxivwrite - prompt 3: tempest

word count: 668 rating: mature for mentions of death/violence. summary: io fights through the ghimlyt dark.

A questionable habit, keeping an arrow nocked on the slack string. Fighting through imperial hordes with one hand occupied might be a burden for most others, but the longbow is at home in Io’s left hand. The ready arrow is an extension of her arm, her will, and there are only two things she must factor before loosing it: a suitable target and the time it takes to draw the string. But arrows are precious, and this one must wait.

Io relies, instead, on the dagger in her right hand, a vicious thing, and red from her work. It isn’t as comfortable, but it gives her no trouble.

She entered the battlefield with friends. Hien, Yugiri, Pipin, Lyse, Aymeric.

Alisaie.

Through thickets of smoke and swarming bodies, Io only catches glimpses of them now. A familiar cry of determination implies Lyse is not far, and in the aftershock of an explosion, there is a flash of blue–Aymeric’s cloak–but it is swiftly swallowed by red and black. A shimmering thorned tendril punches through a few footsoldiers flanking her left side, leaving bloody mist in its wake, and relief cuts through the adrenaline. She’s alright.

But signs of her comrades' well-being become fewer and less frequent. Wave after wave of Garlean soldiers seem intent on separating her from her allies. Before long, she is alone.

One makes a bold move to rush her, sword clumsily drawn. Half an hour ago, it would've been an easy dodge. Io misses it by an ilm or two (her chest clinches–too close) but she does not miss their neck. The little blade digs through fabric shoddily enhanced by magitek, then flesh. She frees it with a rough pull, readjusting her grip on the wet handle, and the body falls to the ground.

Shittiest part of Garlean armor, the neck.

There is only action and reaction, the haze of adrenaline, her pulse rushing too loud in her ears. Io moves and the battle moves around her, a gruesome storm with her as its eye. 

She is getting sluggish, but the motions come naturally. Sidestep the heavy arc of an axe. Twist out of the path of a fiery projectile. Leap to avoid a determined shield to the chest, and leap again to use it as a springboard, launching out of range with an ungraceful backflip. Dip low, suck in air that is less choked by ceruluem, and plant a dagger into the nearest calf (she loses that one, but there is another strapped to her boot).

This is almost like dancing, she thinks, missing the ease of tathlums. Perhaps she’ll revisit them, if she lives through this.

Io recalls the sound of her own snorted laugh, but it is a sorry mental stand-in as she pants from exertion. She tosses the last dagger and it reliably finds a Garlean chest. Spin, spin, fingers drawing the string back, the ache in her arms and shoulder, and yes, it is funny. She hasn’t wanted to live so badly since… since she faced Gaius and Lahabrea. 

This deep in Ghimlyt, even that base instinct threatens to slip. In reaching for her future–any future–she is burning out.

There is no time to think about the way her throbbing nerve endings blaze, or the fatigue that beckons her to lie down in the bloody dirt, to rest.

To die. 

The bowstring is taut before she finds a mark (there are so very many), but a soldier bearing down on Aymeric earns their prize. He turns to look her way, and hope is bright in his eyes. The familiar expression fades, darkened by worry. She must look like she feels.

Then the storm shifts, imperceptibly at first, then all at once. The violence ebbs, blown off its course and back to the northeast.

Familiar shouts in the distance, and under the high, hollow ring of magitek shells laying cover fire, comes the heavy clod of Zenos’ armor.

Stay awake, Io. But there is so little left to give. Stay alive.