#runar

[clawheld]

Hrothgar players when they get to Shadowbringers

[koko2unite]

October poll is up!! help me pick who to draw naughtily this month!

[1driedpersimmon]

.

Interesting developments are happening….

[zetrystan]

Y'Shtola was READY. She needed ANY sign.

(Comic of my favourite ship in the entirety of FFXIV. I want them to be together and happy and kill bad guys and eat stew)

[tenrispoplar]

Got some oc troll sketches that I quite like

Mirkvi, the one only known as the Old one or Olde and then Runar, Gunmar's hybrid son

[gachacatt]

I just think runar would be the supervisor at parties, he's a good hrothgar like that

[secretwhumplair]

Solstice, p.1

1,494 words | No Warrior (sequel to Solstice, p.0)

Content | Idk what to put. Dealing with past trauma, perceived betrayal?

Notes | Well that went well! Until it didn't.

Excited to get back to this story and give it its long-awaited finish! We're not there yet. But I am full of optimism.

Taglist | @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi​​ @castielamigos-whump-side-blog​​ @whump-me-all-night-long​​​​ @whumpadump1939​​ @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight​​

@whumpzone​​ @angel-stars @kixngiggles​ @whumpsy-daisies​​ @briars7

@yet-another-heathen​​ @rosesareviolentlyread @cupcakes-and-pain @hollowtreesinhollowwoods​​​​ @much-ado-about-whumping​​

@nine-tailed-whump​​ @whump-em​​​ @itsleighlove​​ @newbornwhumperfly​​​ @tears-and-lilies

@deluxewhump @whump-cravings @wolfeyedwitch @melancholy-in-the-morning @neverthelass

@whumpsday @silent-orchid-lady

Runar felt bad for not offering Yves the option to stay at home with him. But it was the solstice festival, and—no matter how callous and selfish it felt in the moment—he couldn’t put every part of his life on hold for him.

It was, therefore, doubly relieving that Yves seemed to be okay. He kept close to Runar’s side as they made their way to the hilltop where wood had been stacked up twice as tall as Runar was, the yet unlit pile silhouetted against the dusky sky, but that might have been due to how narrow the paths through the snow were—more had fallen just this morning.

It was about time for winter to begin its slow retreat, and Yves seemed to welcome it as much as anyone. There was a shadow of a smile on his face, even.

Runar was irrationally proud of how brave he was being. »I’ll go say hi to my family, and then we can check out the food, yes?«

Yves nodded timidly. They hadn’t had lunch yet; after all, the potluck feast would begin as soon as the bonfire was lit once dark had fallen, which would be soon, and last as long as anyone could still eat. Runar had offered Yves to snack with him, of course, knowing how starved he had been when he first found him, and not wanting to stir up dark memories. But Yves, after hearing his explanation, had declined, had wanted to wait for the feast with him. That, too, Runar was proud of for him.

They trudged their way up the hill, and Runar could feel his mood rise along with their path.

It was going to be good.

* The stars were coming out, and Yves felt nervous to the bone.

Nervous enough to trail closely after Runar, no matter how pathetic it felt, no matter how much it stirred the bitter, helpless anger seething inside him all the time now. It ebbed and flowed—his sword practice, as silly as it was, seemed to help, but then there were moments like this, when his anxiety peaked for no real reason and there was nothing he could do, and it felt so deeply unfair. He wasn’t even properly scared—he knew nothing bad would happen to him, and somehow that made it worse. If his nerves could at least save themselves for actual threats—they should have enough experience with them to know the difference.

Still, Runar’s company comforted him, and the joy he and his family shared rubbed off. When Ingunn smiled at him, he found it easy to smile back.

»Yves! Glad you came too, it’s a big day!«

»Yes… I’m glad too.« And it was true. The air was filled with cheer and excited chattering, even among the cloudy wisps spewed forth by every breath. Soon, the warmth would come—first from the fire, and then, eventually, from the sun.

It was an important event.

Watching the crowd made him feel better as they gathered around long tables set up around the fire, some already taking their seats, but most standing and occupied in various tasks, or simply commenting on the stake and the food the tables were laden with, even as families were still carrying up more filled pots and plates.

No one would go hungry tonight, that much was certain.

Even actually spotting Brandr, who stood with two other warriors near the stake and seemed to be engrossed in discussing the quality of the wood or some such thing by the way he gestured aggressively at one log or another, couldn’t fully dispel the warmth of the occasion.

If Brandr confronted him again, this time, Yves would stand his ground. Or so he told himself, even as his heart beat faster at the thought.

He balled a gloved hand. No, he would. He wouldn’t let anyone take this from him, not when Runar’s family was so welcoming. They wanted him to enjoy the night, and he did too.

Dusk crept by slowly, the rising darkness dispelled only by their cheerful voices, but they became quieter and quieter, until darkness and silence were complete.

That was when the eldest lit a torch, its brightness momentarily burning in Yves’ eyes. Everyone watched, rapt, as she approached the wood and with one decisive strike pushed the torch into it.

The center, carefully constructed from dried leaves and twigs, caught fire at once, and cheers erupted from the crowd. Runar joined in, and Yves, too, though his voice was still drowned out.

The flames licked at the larger wood pieces, climbing up and up, until the bonfire reached high into the night sky. The light and the warmth lifted Yves’ heart. Maybe it was all going to be alright. Maybe the darkest days were truly gone now.

Once the cheering was done, the feasting began. After that, it wasn’t long before musicians picked up their instruments, and many voices joined in songs that must be long familiar to the community. Even Yves had heard some of them before by now, though his voice stayed quieter than the rest. Soon people were dancing, and Runar, after checking in with Yves once more, like he always did, like he never abandoned him without notice, jumped into it too.

Yves was undecided, and even that seemed big. He hadn’t danced in—a long time. It seemed fun. He didn’t know the local dances yet, though, and in truth, he felt a little out of place. So he simply sat and watched.

After a while, Signy fell into the now vacated stool opposite Yves, laughing, one of her spouses on each arm. Her wife let go of her and chattered something about getting some of the fish that was being roasted over the other side of the bonfire before she disappeared. Signy noticed Yves sitting opposite her, and gave him a wide grin. Her face was heated, not just from dancing, but her demeanour was, if anything, more jolly than usual. »Yves! How’re you holding up? Having a good time?«

Yves nodded, smiling without effort. He was having a good time. He was having something close to fun, just like he had wanted. He was still a little nervous, yes, but the all-around cheer of the event was rubbing off on him, and he wasn’t feeling unsafe.

»That’s good! That’s good.« Signy’s grin turned into a warmer, deeper smile for a moment, then she focused on her husband again, so intensely Yves looked away, heat creeping into his own face.

Signy’s wife returned to release him from the awkwardness of the moment—or make it worse, who knew—carrying a plate of freshly grilled fish, which she sat down before Signy, in the middle of the three of them.

»Thanks, s͏w̧e҉e͟t̸ḩe̵àr̀t͢« Signy said and kissed her wife’s mouth. When, turning back to the table, she noticed Yves staring at her, she just gave an enthusiastic little wave with her knife before she tucked into the fish.

Yves, though, sat frozen with realization, unable to avert his eyes from her and her—her wife. Her lover.

Her sweetheart.

Each breath caught in his throat. Was that how Runar saw him—what he expected of him?

Since when had he been calling Yves that? He couldn’t be sure, not with the way his mind raced, but it seemed to him it had been since ever. Since the very start?

Was that the reason he had rescued Yves?

Had all his kindness been a ploy to get Yves to-? The thought was terrifying. But why bother? He could easily overpower Yves.

What did he really want? And why hadn’t he been honest about it?

Yves’ head was reeling, and he dug his nails into the stool he was sitting on, desperate to find a grasp on reality.

»Yves?« Runar.

Yves couldn’t answer, or even look at him. He just stared down at the plate in front of him, trying to figure out what this was, even what feeling it was that was rushing through his heart, fear with flashes of fury.

»Are you okay?«

»No.« The word plopped out of his mouth before he could stop himself, and a spike of panic shot through him. He pushed himself up forcefully, still without looking at Runar. »I’m. Going home.«

»Yves… ?« But Runar didn’t move to stop him, and a word was not enough to, not anymore. There was a bitter triumph in it.

As he walked off into the night, he could hear Runar ask Signy and her companions what had happened, heard Signy’s full-mouthed, »No idea.«

It angered him more. How could they be so oblivious?

It was unfair—how would they know?—but everything was unfair, anyway; why should it only be unfair to him? The darkness swallowed him, the light of the bonfire only faint reflections on the snow as he escaped.

Home, he had said, and he almost regretted it.

[secretsmutcorner]

A first attempt

1,192 words | No Warrior (sequel to Fall)

Content | NSFW (they don't get very far but there is penis), past non-con, name-calling

Notes | Yves pushes his boundaries. It goes... well, it goes.

Taglist | @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @castielamigos-whump-side-blog​​ @whump-me-all-night-long​​​​ @whumpadump1939​​ @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight

@whumpzone @angel-stars​​ @kixngiggles @whumpsy-daisies @yet-another-heathen

@rosesareviolentlyread @cupcakes-and-pain @hollowtreesinhollowwoods @pleasancies @much-ado-about-whumping

@nine-tailed-whump​​ @whump-em @itsleighlove @newbornwhumperfly​​​ @tears-and-lilies

@deluxewhump @whump-cravings @wolfeyedwitch @melancholy-in-the-morning @neverthelass

@whumpsday @silent-orchid-lady @everynameistakencarrots @scoundrelwithboba

Yves had never in his life felt this comfortable.

Another day was gone, and he lay in Runar’s arms, his hands easily tracing along the muscles in his — his lover’s? Could he call him lover yet? — chest. Runar was caressing him, too, his hand running in long strokes from the nape of his neck to his waist, and hesitating.

Yves was overcome with a rush of boldness, of cheek even. He grabbed Runar’s wrist and guided his hand back and down, a grin easily bursting across his lips as he stared a challenge into his face.

Runar chuckled, clearly surprised, but didn’t hesitate to grab his ass. Gently, like everything he did.

»How does that feel?«

Yves couldn’t answer immediately, too absorbed in the unfamiliar touch — a comforting unfamiliarity, too; the worry of being reminded had crept further and further into the back of his mind over the last few weeks. But as invasive as the knights had gotten, there simply hadn’t been much of anything there for them to grab at. Now, almost a year of good meals and swordfighting practice later, though… there was almost some kind of pride in the way he filled Runar’s, his lover’s warm hand.

That, and a sense of closeness outpacing the anxiety in its growth.

Instead of answering, he shifted forwards for another kiss.

»May I touch you?« The words, barely more than a breath, tumbled past his lips when they were free again, if only by hair’s breadth. He could feel Runar’s breath on his face and the heat rising into his cheeks as he heard what he said. As he processed the desire pooling in his groin. As he realized that, for the first time since the knights had torn him to shreds, he truly wanted more.

»You are,« Runar said, and Yves didn’t know whether he was really misunderstanding or gently rejecting him, but kissed him again regardless. No matter how much his hands prickled with longing, he, too, wanted Runar to know it was okay.

Maybe the warrior was shy in such matters. He couldn’t know.

Runar squeezed his ass while they were kissing, so softly he wasn’t sure it was on purpose, but he couldn’t hold back a groan.

You like this, little whore, don’t you?

He pushed the voice down like he had a thousand times before. It was becoming easier. It should become easier.

Runar pulled back, not sharply, just enough to give him a surprised look, chased by a grin. »Oh.« He kissed Yves again. »Did you mean-?«

Yves didn’t let him finish. »Yes.« He couldn’t look into Runar’s eyes, suddenly embarrassed.

»Well…« There was a deep almost-purr in his voice, a tone Yves hadn’t heard before that sent shivers down his spine, heated him up further. »Feel free?«

He traced his fingers down Runar’s body, warm and soft and strong, and he wasn’t sure his head was still working, and he put his lips in the spot his hands had just vacated, covering Runar’s chest in kisses.

His hands found Runar’s cock, hot and throbbing like his own, like-

Go on, slut. If your runty little hands work me well enough, I might not even stick it in, how’s that?

And then, louder, something more than a memory. Look at you enjoying this, whore. I told you so.

He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t.

He was sitting up, hugging his knees, tears forcing their way out of his eyes when he had just felt so good.

Always crying when a real warrior graces you with his body, the voice in his head mocked. It’s not your place to choose this, is it, little bitch?

»… sweetheart?« Runar’s voice broke through the shadows enveloping him.

»Please say my name,« Yves begged quietly, feeling, in that moment, that it was far too much to ask.

Filthy whore.

»Yves,« Runar whispered back.

Worthless toy.

»Yves.«

Bitch.

»Yves.«

Slut.

»Yves.«

Runt.

»Yves. Yves Yves Yves,« Runar whispered, over and over. His hand, very softly, ghosted across his back, and Yves realized he was sobbing, and then he threw himself against Runar’s chest.

»I’m sorry.«

»Don’t be,« Runar murmured, his strong arms wrapped around him. »It’s-«

»I’m sorry. I ruined it.«

»It’s not your fault. Shhh, sweetheart, Yves, it’s going to be alright.« And then, quietly, »I love you.«

Yves just curled closer into him, his sobs slowly ebbing as he found himself again, found himself in Runar’s loving arms. Where he had been. The whole time. Why was he crying?

Why were they chasing him, even after death?

»I wanted it. I want it.« But he wasn’t allowed, and he was still so helpless. Powerless fury swept through him. It would never end.

»I’m- I’m glad. But we can take it easy. Nice and slow, as much as you need.«

»I don’t want to! I just want to- I just want to be with my lover, is that too much to ask?!«

Runar looked into his eyes, then kissed away the tears that were spilling again. His hand rubbed circles over Yves’ back. »It’s not fair. But we’ll work it out, yeah? No matter which way this goes,« he added, planting another kiss on Yves’ forehead, »I want to see it through with you, if you’ll have me.«

Yves rested his ear against Runar’s chest to hear the reassuring thump of his heart, steady, if a little fast. »Let’s just go to sleep,« he muttered.

»Mhm. Would you… can I hold you?«

»Please,« Yves whispered, and they nestled down for the night, cuddled up together.

Yves didn’t sleep well, but when he woke in the morning, he found himself wrapped in Runar’s arms and Runar’s gentle eyes upon himself and he felt better.

»Good morning.« He kissed Runar, and Runar kissed him back, gently pulling him closer.

»Good morning, sweetheart. How do you feel?«

The dread question. Why couldn’t he live a life where him feeling alright was a given?

»I’m better.« Before Runar could respond, he added, »I’m sorry.«

»It’s not your fault.« Runar stroked his cheek. »I’m just glad you’re alright.«

»Hm.« Yves returned the caress, wrapped his fingers in Runar’s long hair. »I’d rather it’d have gone differently.«

A small, sad smile. »Do you still… do you want to… ?«

»Yes.« Yes, he wanted to continue. It was downright embarrassing how much he wanted to. »But you don’t… you don’t have to. You don’t have to put up with this.«

»Yves.« A warm, strong arm squeezed him, and he barely held back a sigh. »I’m not… putting up with you. I love you. I want to do this with you.«

»What if they did break me?« He wouldn’t have dared asked the question before, and even now it was a mere whisper.

Runar’s thumb stroked across his cheek again. »I don’t think it’s possible to break you, sweetheart.«

A mangled chuckle wrested free from his throat… but as the words sank in, he found he trusted Runar enough to believe them, a little.

He kissed Runar, and he would do it a thousand times again, and no one could stop him.

He would face this.

With Runar, together.

[sabiartrin]

Triumph of the unconscious

You can check the full version on my Twitter (link in bio)

[looking-for-lost-stars]

"Please don’t ask me about my parents" to Boe, (@dissatisfieddov)

Please Don’t Starters:

@dissatisfieddov

Boe immediately felt guilty, they should know better, they don't want to talk about their own parents... Or particularly their father. They look down at their feet "I-I-I'm sorry."

[chibubird]

bisexuality is stored in the kitty cats

[1driedpersimmon]

Wide variety, doodles, paintings, spicy… heheh

[ffxivsnickerdoodlecookie]

runar emote i made for my twitch

[rizzyun]

I will not hold back~

Yshtola by me, WoL by @rachasakawa, @/ibraim.elias, Photo by @ronaldoichi

[do-you-know-this-cat]

Do You Know This Cat?

[driftward]

Title: FFXIV Write 2024 - 21. Shade Characters: Zoissette Vauban, Runar, Lavender Rating: Teen Summary: Lavender has a way with new people. Notes: Weird Wild West AU - A Desertwalkers Story

The night was calm.

Too calm. The sky, shifting to be darker than black, as individual stars began to wink out.

A Weave phenomenan.

Zoissette looked up from the cave entrance, and turned to her companion. "I think we would be best served by setting up rather far back in this night," she said. "We have enough water and rations to serve us for a few days, if need be."

She looked back outwards, down the canyon, frowning at how the darkness seemed to be flowing down it, like a thick syrup. "But I do not like the look of matters here."

Her companion, a gray Hrothgar with fur that was gray on gray, a lighter gray base with deeply dark almost black gray stripes, nodded back at her. More striking than his fur was the youthfulness of his face, an almost naive sense to his eyes, but he was eager, and had reassured Zoissette repeatedly that he was of age.

"Of course, Mistress Vauban," he said mildly, placing a hand on the wall and starting to find his way back. Zoissette had agreed to take him on as an apprentice, at his behest. She viewed this excursion as a bit of a trial. Her surveys were becoming more complicated and requiring more effort, so a second set of eyes and hands would be welcome.

Terrible timing for the Weave to act up, but predicting such things were outside the providence of her arts. She cast one more wary look at the oncoming wall of unknowable black before following him deep into the cave system that was part of the canyon wall. She flicked on her lantern, and held it high as they went.

Runar, for that was his name, dug around in one of his pouches as they moved further back. "I brought some candles I might light for our protection once you think we are far enough back," he said. Zoissette had other lighting of her own, of course, levin powered lights and accompanying chromatic cells, as well as the lantern she was holding and more than a few ways to start a fire. However, she considered this a reasonable opportunity to see how resourceful Runar could be in a situation, and the candles would probably serve to provide a soft light one could sleep through.

This was, after all, no true emergency. The darkness could be dangerous if one was not careful, and terrible things might lurk in it, but it itself was harmless. Deep in the cave, they would most likely be safe. She kept her lantern aloft anyroad.

She gestured past him at an alcove, and he nodded in response, and she set the lantern down in a central area while Runar took out his candles, starting to set them down in a circle along the perimeter of where they were.

Zoissette looked over curiously, noting the faint purple tinge to the wax. "What manner of candles are these?" she asked.

"Spirit candles," he said. "I learned to make them when I was young. They are one of the few traditions of my community that I can carry with me."

"I am not one to pry into someone's personal business," said Zoissette, keeping her tone intentionally gentle. Runar was an orphan, she knew that. Stonewood was unusually good at taking care of abandoned children up to adult hood. A community project Dulia-Chai ran, from what Zoissette understood.

Runar was quiet a moment, as he set out more candles.

"I don't mind," he said, his voice soft. "Ours was the Night's Blessed. Most peoples prefer the day, but we preferred the night. We were peaceful. Kept to ourselves. Avoided most others, and stayed in the deep areas. I've been away from them for almost a tenswinter."

Zoissette listened quietly, politely, rolling out bed rolls and pulling out rations.

Runar held up a candle. "I was meant to be a seer. So they taught me how to make these. Spirit candles. They burn with a light that shows truth, even in deepest darkness. Or... so the legends say."

"You do not know what that means?"

"Not really. Supposedly it would allow us to see otherworldly things, perhaps even to interact with them, touch them, but I don't know about that." He sighed. "Such things rarely visit Stonewood proper. And, uhm..."

He rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. "I've been too afraid to wander out alone too much. But I feel safe. Uhm. With you. Thank you again for this opportunity, Mistress Vauban."

"Of course. Though, I am no mentor, Runar. I will not intentionally lead you to a bad end, but you will need to do a lot of learning on your own out here."

"Of course, of course," he said, fumbling with a matchbook for a moment before lighting a candle. It lit up with a faint light, purple in hue, a light that flowed like smoke, illuminating but whispy, foggy, slowly beginning to fill the room. He waited a few moments before nodding, satisfied, and shifted to the next candle, lighting it as well.

He had lit six candles before he turned and screamed.

Zoissette was in motion immediately, the batt-cap on her pistol whining as she activated its charge. He had thrown himself in front of her, arms wide, presumably to protect her, and she was finding it difficult to see around him.

"For Fury's sake," she snapped, pushing his arm up and ducking under it, trying to get a firing angle.

"Stay back! It's a horrible shade! It will drink our blood!"

Zoissette jockeyed for position until, at last, she was able to see around him, bringing her fully armed pistol to bear.

Lavender floated in the middle of the alcove. Her feet dangled beneath her dress, toes gently angled towards the ground, same as they always were. She had her hands folded primly in front of her dress. The same dress she always chose to appear in, something unfashionably out of date by about a century. She slowly tilted her head, a single eyebrow slowly moving heavensward up her forehead.

"Drink... your... blood?" she said, her voice somehow flat in its echo-y quality.

Zoissette squeezed her eyes shut, and sighed. She thumbed the activator back on her pistol, and it made a little sad down-tone whine as it cycled down.

"You do not fool me, shade! I know of your kind and their insatiable thirst for human blood!" said Runar, his voice shaky.

Lavender and Zoissette exchanged a look before Zoissette tucked her pistol back in its holster, going back to preparing the camp. "I suppose your candles are useful for something after all. Mister Runar, meet the Lady Lavender. Lady Lavender, my would-be apprentice, Runar."

Lavender gave Runar a small midair curtsy, and he blinked, looking back and forth between the other two.

"You knew it was here?"

"The mistress is always well aware of my presence," said Lavender stiffly. "I have served the family for generations. And for your information, I do not drink anything, much less blood."

"I think he was thinking of vampires."

"If anything is insatiable, Mister Runar," began Lavender. Runar flinched and shied away as she came to float around him, facing him as she circled him. "It is my love for collective humanity."

Zoissette stopped what she was looking, and looked over at Lavender with a frown.

"Yes, just so," said Lavender, coming to be in front of Runar. She waved a finger in the air as she spoke, even as he backed up nervously. "I have an insatiable love for humanity."

"If you say so," said Zoissette. "Breathe, Mister Runar. Perhaps you might sit down for a moment while you collect yourself."

"Yes... I think I would like to do that," he said, stunned, finding his way to his bedroll and unceremoniously plopping down at it, staring at the ghost in his midst. Zoissette just shook her head, and took over lighting the rest of the candles.

He swallowed. "So, uhm. You... are not here to harm us?"

"Quite the opposite. I often serve in a guard capacity for my mistress." she said, smoothing down the front of her dress.

Rather unnecessarily, it seemed to Runar.

He glanced around the cave. Almost without thinking, he began to set up a little spot to do some cooking, pull out his pot, do something, anything to keep his hands and mind occupied. The last of the candles were lit, and the room filled with their faintly smoky light, dim in the darkness.

"I may need to ask you to make more of these candles, Mister Runar," said Zoissette, sitting down to get comfortable with her notebooks. "A reliable method of bringing manifested spirits to light, so to speak. Fascinating. I wonder what other properties they may have."

"Oh! I would love to do that," said Runar. He swallowed. "Maybe I could... also show some rituals I know. Perhaps... perhaps you can help me figure them out."

"It would be my pleasure."

He glanced again between Zoissette and Lavender.

"... do you eat, Miss Lavender?" he asked, tentatively.

"No, but thank you for asking," said Lavender, smiling at him and coming to rest on the floor, finding a spot for herself to sit.

He nodded, filling his pot with water and dropping several chunks of dehydrated meat and vegetable into it.

"My apologies," he said. "I've never met a shade before... friendly or otherwise. I've always heard such terrible things."

"And there are terrible things in this world, Mister Runar, alive and otherwise. I saw how your first thought was to defend the mistress." She winked at him. "I am not insulted, and indeed, I believe I am inclined to view your actions most favorably."

He nodded, stirring at his pot a bit, and then he gave her a big smile.

"Well, then, I'm glad to know you, Miss Lavender."

"Likewise, Mister Runar."

Zoissette looked over at the two, and allowed herself a small smile as she turned to her work for the night.