#stephanivien i love you

[mia-varlineau]

when you give a rdm a gun

[pangolinheart]

hkajfajhflkaf awwwwww I like Iris and Steph! I think they have a really interesting dynamic, and one that I didn't expect! I really look forward to seeing/reading about more of them!

I'm feeling a little rough tonight, so I want to generate some positive energy! In that spirit: Tell me about the best compliment you've ever received about your OC/a work featuring your oc? About their look, their personality, their story, their background, a fic about them, a piece of art of them, a gpose/screenshot etc. What's something that made you feel proud or just all warm and fuzzy inside?

[prudentfolly]

Day 28: Love

As in first love. As in lost love.

As in it didn't end well.

Ooh, do you wanna know more details? Awfully messy of you!! Here is what I have thus far: Prudence and Hilda grew up together in the Brume. Prudence is one of the first to be won over by The Mongrel, eager to be a hound and prove herself. They are about the same age, making Prudence 21/22 during the events of Heavensward. Here, they are probably 17? 18? I'm not sure. Young'uns. Each other's first real relationship built off a foundation of hormones and anger. Like a lot of Prudence’s relationships, romantic and otherwise, it is a very up, down, up, down kind of thing.

During the assault and rescue attempt at the Vault, Prudence is injured, badly. It is her first brush with death and it scares her. It scares her a lot. The recovery process is a long one and while Hilda visits there is strain on their relationship. Prudence is angry at everyone, at the world, at Hilda. Hilda blames herself, having told Prudence to go with the Vault party.

When she’s finally free of her bed rest Prudence begins the process of leaving the Brume. Prudence doesn’t have friends but she does have favors and she cashes in on a few.  A new apartment in a modest but respectful neighborhood, several letters of recommendation for work, the equipment Stephanivien gifts her and the knowledge he’s shared.

But it’s not just leaving the brume. She is abandoning it and the dreams she built with Hilda. She is abandoning Hilda. This fight, their last, is still spoken of in hushed tones by the Hounds that remember it.

[apathmakerstale]

WoL Job NPC'S meeting fics!!!

New Fic idea for me to put in the drafts and request if there's any since there has to be at least one!!!!

A compilation of various job trainers, quest givers, and other NPC's who find out just how multi-faceted the Warrior of Light is to a ridiculously degree.

Imagine while Sophia and Radovan (Gunbreaker Jobline) are in Ul'dah they stop by the Blue Mage circus to watch the show and end up watch the super cool Warrior of Light perform absolutely ridiculously feets of magic and act whimsy like they'd never seen before.

Or the Archer's jobline Silvairre and Leih encountering the Warrior of Light while they're in their Dark Knight regalia while hunting poachers and seeing the sheer contrast between an upbeat person who loves to sing and a manifestation of darkness and love.

Drusilla and the Reapers seeing the Dancer's Troupe Falsiam performance out in the public and watching in shock as the woman who tore out and ate the aether of one of the most feared voidsent ever dancing happily and singing of joy and happiness in dancer's cloths or meeting the WoL with Zero at some point somehow.

On the flipside, the Redbill Sky Pirates from Shadows of Mhach raid encountering the WoL as a Reaper and panicking for a moment as voidsent near on par with Diablos swirls around them before learning that no, that's also the WoL somehow.

I don't do crafting but I don't remember it coming up so someone can correct me, but as Tataru keeps building her empire, she keeps purchasing mastercrafted works and keeps realizing that 90% of them are resold at a upcharge from you. Like half of the elite upper trading sphere is propped up by things the WoL has made or when she was trying find a maker for the Endwalker Job Gear she kept being referred to the WoL.

The WoL offhandedly mentioning to Stephanivien and Joye from the Machinist guild that they know how to pilot and help upkeep a fully functioning mecha robot twice the size of the Queen they have and they best friends with Cid from Garlond Ironworks.

(Warrior) Curious Gorge and Broken Mountain meeting a Scholar WoL.

(Dark Knight) Sidragu and Rielle meeting a White Mage WoL.

(White Mage) The Padjal's meeting a Black Mage WoL.

(Red Mage) X'rhun Tia and Arya meeting the WoL as they switch from White Mage and Black Mage to Red Mage and realize they've mastered literally every way you can use the magic.

(Monk) Hell Widargelt and his students seeing the Warrior of Light again shortly after they literally near single-handedly brought down Garlemald and freed their country would be fun.

Literally anyone else being with the Warrior of Light as they go through a Hildebrand adventure.

There has to be fics like that already I need to see them if anyone has any!!!!

[elliewiltarwyn]

A Specialized Problem (OC Swap Gift for @mythandral)

for the FFXIV OC Swap discord's current swap, my giftee is the incomparable @mythandral! Coming in a little under the wire here cause the deadline is on Sunday ghasldkfjkasd BUT I'm really glad I finally sat myself down and devoted the energy to exploring Myth's whole deal because it's all so cool and fascinating and he's a wonderful character, and I hope this gift lives up to those standards!!

I present a 2,321-word fluffy MythXStephanivien fic illustrated with gposes from Steph's POV centered around Myth. I offered either gposes or fic writing, and then hubristically decided I could do both. >.> also there was technically a theme for the swap but thankfully they were optional because I completely forgot sdghalshgf however I suppose you could say this is adjacent to the Valentione's/Love option?? it is goddamn cotton-candy levels of fluff at least lol

ANYWAY WITHOUT FURTHER ADO hope you all and Myth in particular enjoy!!

It was well after the end of the workday, with the gray Coerthan clouds beginning to tint orange and the sun beginning to aim its reach through the still-open doors of the manufactory, and Myth had yet to move an ilm from his spot.

This in and of itself wasn’t terribly surprising; Stephanivien was used to his husband’s tendency to focus on his projects to the exclusion of most else. It was a method of increasing his productivity and a process of healing both for him, allowing him to turn his anxieties into progress on any number of little projects that had fallen by the wayside in the manufactory’s assembly line, but ones that would be of immense benefit to unfortunate folk from the slowly-ascending peasants of the Brume to the steadily-recovering citizens of Garlemald. Even if it were for no benefit but his own, Stephanivien would never begrudge him these times to himself; Fury knows he could use some of those moments, butting heads with his lord father and Tedalgrinche and other such doubters all day as he does. Albeit less so these days.

No, Stephanivien’s concern was more prosaic: typically, Myth’s personal space in these times was active and bright, delighting in the sounds of his tools tinkering with his project, examining it from every angle and frequently ducking his head and craning his neck into unusual positions to do so, not to mention how he would gladly explicate upon his process to any who asked, especially if they were new hires of the manufactory who were like to stand there in awe of the Warrior of Light more than actually listen to a word he was saying. Quite frankly, Myth was a delight when he was in these moods.

Today, it had been anything but: Mythandral Raas, beloved senior engineer of Skysteel Manufactory, husband of its proprietor, and Warrior of Light, had spent near the full afternoon gazing blankly at the device in pieces before him on the table — his own aetherometer. His elbows had rested on the table for what seemed to be several bells, his hands clasped across the bridge of his nose as his burnished golden eyes, the color of the sun hiding behind the overcast sky, traced the span of gears, nuts, bolts and wires sprawled across his workspace. Most disturbingly, he had paid no heed to any who tried to draw his attention — not that anyone pressed particularly far, fearful as they were of disturbing such a notable figure of renown, no matter how open-minded and approachable Myth presented himself.

‘Twas quite strange for Myth, but Stephanivien had some ideas percolating in his overactive mind — both as to the cause and as to possible solutions.

And so as the day wound down and countless employees and guild trainees trickled out the door, each bidding both proprietor and Warrior of Light good night, Stephanivien pretended to busy himself with a pile of messy letters that a Haillenarte manservant had delivered earlier that day, flipping and reading through the same three or four until activity in the manufactory died down, until all that could be heard was the sound of steam rushing through pipes and small hisses of exhaust — the murmurs, chatter, and laughter of his employees finally absent. Even now, Myth continued to regard his aetherometer sternly, attempting to solve a puzzle that, Stephanivien admitted, could stump even himself.

Once he had judged it to be likely they truly were the last in the manufactory, Stephanivien raised his voice slightly to note, “Stare any harder, my dear, and you’re like to burn a hole straight through the thing.”

Finally, for the first time in several hours, Myth’s head rose from its downturned angle. Smirking to himself, Stephanivien balled up the letters in his hand, tossed them over his shoulder into the wastebasket, and slipped out from behind the desk to make for his partner’s side. As his boots clacked across the wooden floor, Myth’s head slowly craned around to gaze up at him over his shoulder, blinking fairly irregularly and furrowing his brow as if he had just awoken from deep slumber. “Of course, if doing so would solve your seemingly impenetrable dilemma, then I wholeheartedly encourage it by all means.” Stephanivien winked. “As I always encourage exploring such unorthodox methods.”

“Unfortunately, this is a matter that requires a delicate approach,” Myth demurred as the corner of his lips tugged upwards slightly. “I won’t deny I’ve been quite tempted to incinerate the blasted thing a number of times, though.”

“’Twould certainly eradicate the problem in one sense.” Now by his side, Stephanivien reached over and laid a gentle hand on his partner’s shoulder while extending the other around in front; Myth took the hint and reached up to clasp it, each machinist curling their fingers around each other’s thick padded gloves. “Shall I take a look? Fresh perspectives oft bear unforeseen solutions, as you well know.”

Myth sighed. “You’re welcome to, I suppose, but I fear this is a particularly specialized problem. It involves…well.” He chuckled, sat up a little, and wryly rapped his knuckles against his own chest; Stephanivien knew very well the “problem” laying beneath Myth’s perfectly-tailored, shockingly-clean-for-a-Skysteel-engineer shirt. “My stint with the Light is largely resolved, but I am still particularly susceptible to fluctuations in my aether, particularly when I’m doing something aether-intensive; when I accrue a surfeit, the probability that the aetherometer will jam rises — the lightning-aspected aether it is supposed to draw becomes imbalanced toward the umbral.” With his free hand, he reached for a small wrench that laid on the table next to the meter, flipped it into his fingers with all the dexterity of a Lominsan rogue with their knives, and drummed it along the length of an internal piece of the meter’s machinery. “I am trying to figure out how to filter Light aether and restore the lightning’s astral balance, in essence.”

Stephanivien frowned. “That is quite the conundrum — after all, if it were possible before…”

“…I would likely have had a much easier time in the First, yes,” Myth mused with a grim chuckle.

“That aether fluctuations could cause errors with the extraction is a possibility I ought to have considered. It pains me to know my oversight has been causing you grief.”

“Come now, there’s no way you could have possibly known ‘twould be an issue when you invented this,” Myth immediately interjected, shaking his head up at his husband with a mischievous grin. “Frankly, had you, it would have raised serious questions about your choice of occupation. You could make a killing with that sort of precognition.”

Stephanivien submitted to a chuckle himself as he squeezed his husband’s hand and shoulder both. “You say that, and yet I am not unaware of the skeptical glares everyone still gives my prospectometer.” Myth stifled a laugh with his other hand, a sound Stephanivien had not heard all day and had sorely missed. “At any rate, mayhap we should step away from the problem for a time? Even your genius mind cannot carry on forever without rest and recuperation.” That being said, Stephanivien’s insides churned, as he knew quite well why Myth had been focusing so intently on solving this particular puzzle. From the tales he had heard, from what he had seen cross his husband’s torso, the Light had done quite a number on him, to put it far too lightly…

Thankfully, Myth’s response to the proposition was to sigh, lean his head against Stephanivien’s hand, and murmur, “Perhaps you have a point.” He groaned and stretched his other arm and both legs outward, rotating his wrist and feet as he stretched his neck to one side, then the other. There was a grimace on his face when he muttered, “I definitely should not have sat here all day. Have you aught in mind for an alternate activity?”

“‘Activity’ should not be a factor in the equation, my dear…” Stephanivien trailed off as his gaze tracked towards the chronometer sitting on the manufactory’s front desk. The specific time that it was currently displaying suddenly ignited the spark of an idea in his mind, and he grinned. “Though I do believe I’ve thought of something. Here — follow me.”

Myth’s brow furrowed in confusion, but he allowed Stephanivien to pull him to his feet and start to make for the stairs hand-in-hand. Stephanivien’s heart beat faster and faster in his breast as they climbed those stairs to the manufactory’s upper story, crossing the landing until they reached one of the doors on the far side with a ‘No Entry’ placard hanging off the handles; Stephanivien carelessly yanked it off and pulled Myth through, crossing into a poorly-lit corridor.

“Hm.” Even in the darkness, Stephanivien was well aware of the arched eyebrow upon his husband’s face. “I can’t say I’ve ever been down this way.”

“You did not think the ‘No Entry’ was a physical barrier, surely?”

“You never know.”

Stephanivien laughed gaily as they began to climb another set of stairs. After all his worrying, all Myth’s trials, he could not well describe the extent to which he was walking on clouds hearing his partner’s sense of humor return to prominence.

There wasn’t much further banter as the two ascended the stairs to an extent much further than Stephanivien was sure Myth expected, distracted as they were with the effort and the numbered floors counting off in Stephanivien’s mind. Once they reached the fifth landing, he diverted off the steps onto it and led Myth down another few dark corridors, eventually reaching one sitting unremarkedly at the far end.

“You may want to cover your eyes for a moment,” Stephanivien warned with a cheeky grin; Myth looked confused still, but obliged, lowering his goggles and shading them with his hand. Holding his breath in anticipation, Stephanivien yanked the door open and pulled Myth through.

The moment the sun fell across Myth’s face, it rose in shock, his lips slightly parted as it literally dawned on him what was happening. “Wait, but…”

Stephanivien couldn’t help a satisfied smirk as he gently coaxed his partner forward, stepping onto a surprisingly wide stone landing and making for its edge. “Ishgard has a reputation for dreariness that is not wholly unearned,” he said matter-of-factly, “but there are certain places that are adept at reminding me ‘twas not always a cold and biting clime.”

“Right here at the manufactory?” Myth replied in awe; having apparently gotten used to it now, he pushes his goggles back up onto his forehead and lowers his hand, his golden eyes sweeping back and forth, taking in the vista before them.

“‘Tis not particularly known, and I am ill-inclined to reveal it to most. But of course, I will make certain exceptions.” Stephanivien beams at Myth as they reach the edge and draw to a standstill, relishing the way the widening of his partner’s eyes gave him premium access to the view of their golden pupils, now soaking in not just the scenic view of the ridges of Abalathia’s Spine but the way the sun perfectly sat at the apex of one of the gaps between the Pillars for which the district was so named.

A hesitance struck Stephanivien at that moment, the potential pitfalls of his devious plan now catching up with his overactive mind. After all, if Light was the source of such woe for him… But he remained resolute as he gestured at the vista, lingering in particular on the rays of the sun, so strong with such defined shapes that he swore he could reach out and pluck them from the frigid air. “The sun travels over Coerthas as normal, of course — but it never nestles into what I would declare its proper spot aside from this particular time of day, in this particular season.”

He exhaled a visible puff of air and put his hand on his hip, the other now tightly beginning to curl into Myth’s. “From this spot,” he began quietly, “I can remember easier that we are not so isolated here in Ishgard — that the warm touch of the sun can reach even us.” His gaze flicked up to Myth’s eyes again, meeting them as Myth turned to stare at him. “Both that we need not suffer our trials alone… and that ‘tis still possible to partake of that which is comforting about the light.”

Myth’s other hand, on apparent instinct, rose up and placed itself directly upon his chest, over the precise centerpoint where Stephanivien knew the scars laid. “Steph,” he breathed, “you…”

Stephanivien chewed his lip anxiously, the nerves beginning to rise to a fever pitch as he suddenly found himself unable to read his husband’s expression. “I apologize profusely if I’ve given any offense,” he murmurs, averting his gaze, “I merely thought—”

A leather glove wraps around his hip and pulls him in to share a deep kiss with Myth, one which he enthusiastically reciprocates, reaching up to cup his partner’s cheek and move in for a more comfortable position, a warm position, here in the arms of Mythandral Raas.

“You are,” Myth breathed between kisses, “as always, a genius, and have the answer to everything.” They pulled apart slightly, just enough to rest their foreheads against each other; Stephanivien stifled a chuckle as their goggles clacked awkwardly against each other. “Thank you, my love.”

Stephanivien grinned. “I’m overjoyed to have helped.” They kissed again, and Stephanivien began to tangle his fingers in the lengths of Myth’s luxurious hair. “If you like,” he whispered somewhat mischievously, “I can steal down briefly for some of the ale stores? I’ve found it goes quite well with the view.”

“Oh, on any other day, I would gladly,” Myth replied, pulling back and grinning at his husband. “But tonight, I think I would keep my mind clear. I’ve just had a flash of inspiration about my problem, after all.”

[sangrefae]

🌷 Writing Patterns 🌷

i was tagged by my bff @sangrientojoe tysm..... 💖💖💖

Rules: Share the first line of your last ten published works or as many as you are able and see if there are any patterns!

i only have 8 published works, discounting the two fics that are a collection of scattered drabbles, so i'll include two exclusive wip lines to make it 10 dfhbfjkdbfg

"'It's this challenge, apparently, a test of your restraint or some such bullshite...'" (FFXIV: in the purgatory of my hips [18+], unfortunately indefinitely TBC until i feel motivation again ghjkl;)

"Though having only closed them for a fraction of a heartbeat, Elinor opens his eyes to an entirely unfamiliar world." (FFXIV: a bit of chemical haze)

"Elinor stares at his hands as he sits in the grass outside Stillglade Fane, waiting." (FFXIV: i love you for psychological reasons)

"The wind around them howls, buffeting Shrimme and making it that much more difficult to find her quarry. A moment longer, though, and she quickly spots it; a victorious noise in the back of her throat, she reaches to grab the last frosty stalks left behind by the icetrap she'd hit with the aetheromatic auger and dutifully stuffs them into her bag." (FFXIV: a fever you can't sweat out, a comm'ed fic for @radicrow [18+])

"The large double doors that stand as the entrance to Skysteel Manufactory close behind Aymeric with a clatter, briefly overtaking the rhythmic racket of machinery that near constantly fill the air. It's a distinctive enough sound around the western parts of Foundation, enough so that some residents complain of the incessant clatter, but Aymeric has never found reason to draw close enough for it to have any effect on him." (FFXIV: wine and dine [18+])

"Stephanivien woke again to the sound of crying." (FFXIV: and i believe that you will see a better day)

"The steady bounce of the chocobo's running gait soothes something within F'toren, the rocking sensation steeling his nerves. Behind him, he can hear Haurchefant's chocobo keeping up the pushed pace, his love's voice still clear through the cleaving wind of the approaching storm. Toren shivers, his shoulders raising and ears flattening against his head as if to protect himself from the biting chill, and urges the bird forward." (FFXIV: acts of servitude, a gift fic for elliekat on ao3 [18+])

"For all his years being the Ishgardian Prince’s personal guard, Aymeric had never been able to see Ser Estinien Wyrmblood’s face." (FFXIV: steel blue, a gift fic for petrarchanconceit on ao3)

"Falin smiles softly at the older kobold woman as she approaches the worn counter, key in hand and bags slung carelessly over her shoulder. It's still early, but the dim space of the tavern is marked by the bustle of activity; carefully, Falin makes her way across the floor, murmuring apologies and excusing herself as she pushes past bodies." (dungeon meshi: unnamed WIP, centered around Falin during her travels after the manga finishes)

"For all intents and purposes, it's a perfectly normal omelet. The egg is nice and fluffy, rolled expertly into bite-sized portions easy to pick up. Beyond the dubious sourcing of the eggs themselves, the plate is clean, the pot they had been cooked on as sanitary as he could hope for, and nothing looks especially suspicious or threatening." (dungeon meshi: i'm sick of swallowing stones, a kabru-centric WIP focused on his issues w food and eating)

as for patterns...... i either go with a one-liner to try and get over the hurdle of Starting the story OR i do a little scene description. i kind of just. jump straight into the action no matter what though bc otherwise i'll get too off-track LMAO

i tag @scriberat @vesperaevis @lavampira @athina-blaine @solibrie and anyone else who wants to do this ehehe

[snotsloth]

FFxivWrite2024 Prompt 1: Steer

As had been the case with the magitek walkers in the Praetorium all those months ago, Kendra proved to be a natural manacutter pilot. She deftly steered her miniature airship in and out of streams of stratus clouds, trailing white vapor in her wake as they made their way to the Aery.

Orion, still not trusting his newly enhanced depth perception, trailed behind her and Estinien who flew steadily on, only diverting occasionally to bob and weave around larger gusts of wind. Though he had used these new goggles from Stephanivien for a few weeks, he was still occasionally struck by vertigo when focusing for too long on objects in the far distance. They had proved very useful in battle, but the idea of any kind of quick maneuvering in this manacutter made him nervous.

Thankfully it was a fairly clear and bright day in the Sea of Clouds. The crisp wind bit at Orion’s exposed cheeks and tore at the wool scarf around his neck but did not offer many obstacles between themselves and the Aery that floated as a dark mote in the far distance.

“Cid’s outdone himself this time,” Kendra’s voice snapped Orion’s attention back to his immediate surroundings. She had circled round and come up on his right shoulder, grinning so hard that her clan marks almost disappeared in the creases of her dimples. “It’s like riding a giant hummingbird! I can flit in any direction I want as easy as breathing!”

“I’m afraid the finesse of the controls is lost on me,” Orion shouted against the wind. “But I’m glad Cid has such an avid test pilot in you!”

“Aw, come on, Orion!” Kendra chided. She flew her manacutter in an effortless loop over his head and down below before returning to her previous holding pattern. “Live a little!” Despite their somber and quite possibly suicidal mission, her playful and adventurous spirit remained dauntless. Her orchid purple braid shone as it whipped in the wind behind her and her toothy grin flashed in the brilliant afternoon sun.

Despite his trepidation and mild nausea, Orion couldn’t help responding with a shy smile of his own as he answered, “While I would love to dart through the clouds behind you, I think my stomach would lodge and official complaint.”

“Best stay close anyhow,” Estinien chimed in, swooping close to the two of them as well. The black enamel of his helmet reflecting the sun with a blade-sharp glare. “The closer we get to the Aery, the more likely we are to encounter resistance. So keep close, Kendra. I don’t want you flitting out of eyesight again until we’ve landed.”

Kendra slumped against her seat and pouted. “You two know how to suck the fun out of everything,” she groaned, but she did keep close after that, getting her thrills by trying to steer her manacutter with the toe of her boot. Orion was unsurprised when she proved to be just as adept at that as he and Estinien were when flying normally.

~

As they drew close to the Aery and the winds picked up, even Kendra had to hold onto the controls with both hands. The massive island floated in the sky, surrounded by a maelstrom of freezing wind and seething with Nidhog’s dark, malicious aether. Orion took a moment to make sure his pistol and ammunition box were securely fastened to his belts and spared Lily a gentle pet on top of her glowing head that peaked out from the folds of his scarf where she had tucked herself away from the biting winds.

“Keep an eye out,” Estinien called out. “Now that we’re close, the wyrm could come at us from multiple directions. We don’t want to be caught unawares.”

Both Kendra and Orion nodded to him, their mouths set in twin lines of determination. Orion peeked back down to check on Lily once more. “You ready, pretty girl?” he murmured into his scarf. “This will be a tough fight and these winds are fierce, so stay close, okay?”

The sparkling, effervescent sensation of Lily’s wordless thoughts caressed Orion’s mind. Her nervousness mirrored his own, but so did her determination. Bubbles of her memories burst against Orion’s mind like champagne bubbles tickling the back of his nose; a smiling Aymeric ringed in firelight, the gentle brush of Lucia’s bare thumb against her cheek, Count Edmont’s quiet chuckles as he watched her tug playfully at the tips of Emmanellain’s hair, goading him into chasing her around the sitting room. She had come to care for their Ishgardian comrades as much as he and Kendra had. They knew what had to be done to ensure their longterm safety and happiness.

“Coming up on our seven and below!” Kendra called out.

Craning his neck to look past the sharp wing of the manacutter, Orion saw Nidhogg’s massive form loom up from behind them, dark wings briefly cutting off the sun as he flew higher and loomed over their suddenly flimsy-feeling airships. The rumble of a roar building in Nidhogg’s chest rattled Orion’s bones before it even reached the wyrm’s obsidian-sharp fangs.

“Fire!” Orion shouted and all three manacutters darted out of the path of Nidhogg’s breath as a primordial pillar of fire blazed across the sky above them.

Estinien righted his ship first, then grabbing the eye in his possession, he brandished it toward the great wyrm. Nidhogg flinched away and back-winged slightly to create some distance between himself and the seething, malicious relic.

“Wicked mortals!” Nidhogg’s voice rattled the frame of Orion’s manacutter and cast a chilling shadow through his mind. “I shall melt your flesh and turn your bones to ash!”

A bolt of searing light flew straight for Nidhogg’s head but he nimbly dodged it, another rumbling roar building in his gargantuan chest. Orion looked up to see Kendra standing straight up in her cockpit, bow still held high as she readied another glowing arrow.

“Below!” Kendra yelled, nodding to a snarl of root-like rock formations that branched out of the main body of the Aery. Peering closer, Orion saw what they were shielding; a series of flat platforms that Nidhogg’s brood must have used to come and go from the Aery.

“Those are big enough for us all to land on!”

“Go!” Estinien ordered the both of them. “I’ll cover our retreat!”

Kendra swung her bow back onto her shoulder and dropped into her seat, steering her manacutter into a tight arc that curved below the vicious bramble of stone and into the protected alcove beneath. Orion followed her as quickly as he could, gritting his teeth against the rattle of the manacutter’s engines as he pushed it towards its top speed.

[strwpup]

YOU 🫵 believe in the dancer emmanellain agenda

reasons why emmanellain de fortemps should transition to dancer as his primary class [several points about the implications for him and sicard at the end]

CANONICALLY emmanellain is very very good at dancing (normal) is it really that hard for him to start dancing (with blades). he would be so good at it he already knows the moves and the vibes

a lot of emmanellain's struggles come with feeling the pressure of being put into a box he does not fit! he's seen as a failure because people didn't see or didn't care about the things he is good at! the firmament quests show he IS good at making allies, he's friends with the redbills, he helped lighten the mood in broken glass! he's great in a social scene, he's perfect for lightening a mood, and i must stress he is CANONICALLY very good at dancing

he HAS grown as a knight, and i'm very proud of my cringefail baby brother, but i think it would be very healing for him to branch out from ishgard and heavy armor to pick up something more freeing (and also he should come to tural with us emmanellain dt sweep)

i could see him fitting in great with the dancer quests

please god we need more PHYSRANGED CHARACTERS in the msq,,,,, ephemie and aenor cockburne i owe you my life,,,, and they are BOTH bards,,,,,,,,, pls the archer to paladin pipeline is ruining the economy and i need dancer and machinist rep

tangentially related YOU 🫵 want emmanellain and sicard to join the b team scions it would be good enrichment for them

emmanellain in neo-ishgardian top of aiming. emmanellain in the lunar envoy aiming gear. emmanellain with the ivalice hairstyle so he still has that hair popping up but he can wear the pretty endwaker dancer relic gear bow. emmanellain happy and spinning around in thavnairian armlets. consider this

okay time to talk about sicard

CANONICALLY emmanellain steals sicard's clothes. sicard wears aiming gear. they could share aiming outfits and emmanellain could wear his boyfriend's pretty v neck into battle instead of the full coverage fortemps armor are you seeing the image

can you imagine how much worse (better) emmsic would be if they were ranged dps boyfriends

overwriting your boyfriend's tactician with shield samba in front of the whole party to prove you're more useful is a love language

sicard walking into the dungeon ready to tease emm about picking him as his dance partner only for emmanellain to dp the tank

:> what's wrong why are you making that face?

i...... i'm dps........... i thought i was dance partner >:(

dps stands for dance partner sicard i cracked the code

sicard feels slighted by this and suddenly starts eating food and using potions from his hotbar and he has the perfect opener to show off how competent he is because he thrives in competition

imagine this. post island sanctuary conversation about responsibility both of them decide to pick up Jobs [tm]. they have a break between contracts and when they meet it's clear that sicard spent some time in ishgard with ilsabard contingent friend stephanivien and got a machinist starter kit and it's clear that emmanellain went to limsa and almost ran away with a traveling dancer troupe

me and my boyfriend and his new six foot tall robot gun mermaid is this anything

thank you for coming to my ted talk vote emmanellain de fortemps for new job change into dancer

[reassambled-dragoon]

FFXIVWrite 24 Masterpost

OKAY. YOU GUYS WIN. I'll add something resembling a header later...

As a heads-up, I'm not doing any kind of specific storyline. I'm letting the prompts speak to the 2x4 of Inspiration. If it concerns AU Storm, it will be tagged AU Storm/AU: on our fates alight. Otherwise, it's generally safe to assume this concerns mainline Warrior of Light.

Resident Blood Elf might make an appearance, if a prompt fits. Stasia Sunrunner is a sin'dorei now permanently living on Eitherys, so yes, she counts as a FF14 character.

The Cast (so far)

Day 1: Steer (Husband and wife alone-time! No, not THAT alone-time, come on)

Day 2: Horizon (A teenaged goldsmith apprentice makes a feathered friend)

Day 3: Tempest (FF16 AU hosted by @scrollsfromarebornrealm featuring a very, very pissed-off Dominant of Rhalgr)

Day 4: Reticent (Post-6.0 but no major spoilers. Lord Godbert noticed a colleague wasn't acting like herself, and decided to do something about it.)

Day 5: Stamp (Stasia Sunrunner, aka Resident Blood Elf, takes vicious delight in making a couple of Scions squirm.)

Day 6: Halcyon (Minor 6.0 spoiler mention. Storm revisits her childhood home, and is found by an old friend.)

Day 7: Morsel (Jorgan loves grooming time!)

Day 8 was a free day, so I took it off to rest.

Day 9: Lend an Ear (Storm's father receives an incredible nameday gift. Endwalker role quest spoiler.)

Day 10: Stable (Beginning of Dawntrail spoiler. Storm helps Wuk Lamat fight her seasickness.)

Day 11: Surrogate (Minor Endwalker spoilers. Storm and Ameliance have a heart to heart about their shared children.)

Day 12: Quarry (Resident Blood Elf plays Manhunt with Spyboy.)

Day 13: Butte (Dawntrail spoilers. Erenville, Stasia, and Storm are exploring the desert.)

Day 14: Telling (Endwalker spoilers. Those who Storm has loved and lost come to give her heart when she needs it most.)

Day 15: Free Day, choice: Family (Endwalker spoilers. A glimpse into the life of Storm's past self.)

Day 16: Third-rate (Bold Star sees their dingy, neglected flat and declares Challenge Accepted.)

Day 17: Sally (Dawntrail spoilers, but location is unspecified. Everyone draws Storm into a linguistics debate, and she ends up having fun.)

Day 18: Hackneyed (FF16 AU hosted by @scrollsfromarebornrealm. There is only so much false sympathy Storm can handle before she lashes out.)

Day 19: Taken (Estinien and Stephanivien force Star into talking to them about how she 'fell asleep'. Much furious cursing ensues.)

Day 20: Duel (An old friend sure knows how to prick Storm's pride.)

Day 21: Shade (Sin'dorei and Hellsguard compare their homes and takes on addressing the departed.)

Day 22: Free, choice: Hope (Set during Heavensward. Bold Star is determined to bring hope to those who have none.)

Day 23: On Cloud Nine (Dawntrail location spoiler. A Dragoon enjoys some reckless freefall.)

Day 24: Bar (Storm helps her friends take care of boring work. Laughter makes it go quicker.)

Day 25: Perpetuity (Endwalker spoilers. Resident Blood Elf ponders the rise and fall of nations while scavenging in ruined buildings.)

Day 26: Zip (Minor Endwalker spoilers, nothing major. Well, Bold Star certainly has an emphatic way to shut down an argument.)

Day 27: Memory (Endwalker spoilers and the fallout of hellish trauma. Hekaarn is a good friend, he really is.)

Day 28: Deleterious (Resident Blood Elf would be giving Thancred greys if his hair wasn't white already.)

Day 29: Free day, choice: Legacy (Dawntrail spoilers, end of MSQ! Storm and Hekaarn ponder the ramifications of her inheritance.)

Day 30: Two Heads Are Better Than One (THE FINALE!!! Dawntrail spoilers and a sequel to 29. Cid is more than up to the challenge of helping his wife solve the puzzle that she brought home.)

[furys-mercy]

Highlight a FFXIV blog that is completely different to yours, whether in terms of focus or style, but you really enjoy.

I think I'll go with... @irisopranta. The writing is lovely and I enjoy it immensely. Especially since Stephanivien is a feature and I don't see that very often. Iris is a wonderful character and seems to me to be very warm and caring. As well as a lover of tea. I say the blog is different because the focus seems to be on fic writing rather than RP (which is what I do) and Iris as a character is more good aligned than the men I have roaming around here, but I love her and would love to have tea with her some time. Also features NPCs, which I generally don't do, but really love to see. :D

[irisopranta]

The Iris and The Edelweiss

“An edelweiss? Quite an usual flower to have there.” Iris mentioned it to the young Haillenarte in front of her. Iris wasn’t quite sure what to make of him. Haurchefant had inform her that he was quite a gentle one for one that had great standing the Ishgardian High Houses. It was at his insistence that he wanted Iris to get to know Lord Francel.

Luckily, he was receiving a parcel at the camp. She just so happened to catch him as her was looking over the contents. The edelweiss was in already in his hand. He was quite confused as to why a stranger would strike up a conversation with him. He nodded to her, “Mayhaps, However it is a gift from my mother. She always loved edelweiss.” He looked at the woman before him. “I assumed you needed to speak to me?”

Iris nodded. “Lord Haurchfant thought it would be a good idea for me to meet you.” She held out her hand “I’m Iris, a pleasure to meet you.” The young lord took her hand to shake. As he did she couldn’t help herself to her glances to the edelweiss. “You know, if she is sending you something like that, she must be telling you to be strong for whats ahead.”

“You feeling alright there dear?” the graceful elezen before her showed a bit of concern on her face “Would you like to lay down instead of playing me in another match?”

“Oh, I’m quite fine Lady Estelle. I was just thinking back on something in my past.” She looked at the chess board before her. It seemed that Estelle took the liberty to set it back for a new match. No matter how much Iris play against her, she can never win against her lady. She can’t even think she ever saw anyone win a match against. Stephanivien might have gotten close but Iris isn’t all that surprise. After all, She probably taught her son a trick or two through out the years.

Iris has come to known Lady Estelle de Haillenarte these last few moons. Every since she got engaged to her son she seemed interested to learning more about her new daughter. Before then, she had only caught glimpse of the lady of the house every now and then. She always seemed to have a face of grief whenever she was about the manor.

“Well if you are quite fine then let’s proceed. I still have to teach you a thing about strategy if you are to become the next Countess Haillenarte.” A smirk crossed Estelle’s face. The countess seemed amused by this all. Rather if it’s because she was showing off to Iris her skills or she just was enjoying the time the two were having. Iris didn’t mind.

“Though I have to ask, why edelweiss? It’s an unusual flower to like?”

“Now wouldn’t you like to know.”

[inkedinfantasy]

FFXIV swap gift for @irisopranta! I thought the suggested fairy tale theme sounded perfect for Iris, so I hope you enjoy this loosely Cinderella-inspired take on her and Stephanivien's first meeting!

Iris adjusted the powder blue dress hanging on the mannequin, admiring the way the fabric caught the light with a subtle shimmer. Truly, it was one of the finest gowns she’d ever made, and it was almost a shame she’d already agreed to sell it.

It had started when a donation from one of Ishgard’s wealthier families had arrived in the Firmament, materials generously earmarked for the reconstruction work. Well-meaning, certainly, but rather out of touch, as it turned out. The lady of the house who had arranged the donation had sent over an assortment of lush, expensive silks and satins along with a note enthusiastically explaining that she’d wanted to provide the Firmament’s artisans with only the best to work with.

Lovely as they were, they were of little use to the weavers who were occupied with filling orders for sturdy work gloves and coveralls for the other craftspeople.

“We’ll see if we can sell it, I suppose,” one of the supervisors said. “At least get a bit of extra coin to keep things afloat.”

Iris ran her hand over the smooth richness of the cloth. It wasn’t every day she had the opportunity to work with material of this quality, and it seemed an awful shame to waste it. She glanced over at the note from the lady of the house, and an idea occurred to her.

“I think we could get even more if we made something from it. Fabric like this would make an exquisite gown, and we’d have no shortage of prospective buyers among the High Houses.”

The supervisor glanced at the ever-growing pile of orders the weavers had yet to fulfill. “As long as we’re able to keep on top of the work here, I suppose you can do as you like.”

“Of course.” Excitement bubbled up in her. She was happy to use her talents to provide what aid she could, of course, but it had been far too long since she’d had a project where she was allowed so much freedom. She was going to relish this.

* * *

What little free time Iris had was now devoted to dreaming up potential designs, allowing her imagination to run wild with the most indulgent possibilities to do the gorgeous material justice. She worked meticulously, rendering each stitch and detail with loving attention.

The end result was a masterpiece.

The generous donation had allowed her to craft a long, flowing skirt, delicate layers of fabric giving it an almost dreamlike quality. The material was a soft powder blue, decorated with white roses. More flowers decorated the bodice, the off-the-shoulder neckline of the dress accented with a small ruffle.

The supervisor who’d suggested selling the fabric had been popping in on her the past few days, checking up on her progress. Iris couldn’t help but feel proud at the grin that spread over their face when they were presented with the final product.

“I must say, you’ve outdone yourself. We’ll have no trouble finding a buyer, especially since we’re coming up on party season.”

That was true enough. Word had spread even through the Firmament of some noble family or another’s upcoming masquerade ball. Valentione’s Day was nearing, and it seemed that many of Ishgard’s wealthier families went all out with their celebrations.

Iris turned her attention back to the dress. With the freedom to design as she’d pleased, she had created the gown of her dreams, and only now was she seeing the drawback: she’d become quite attached. She’d just have to grin and bear it when the time to sell it arrived; she wouldn’t be able to afford to cover the amount they’d make selling it to one of Ishgard’s noble ladies.

She sighed wistfully. It would be such a shame not to have at least one opportunity to wear it…

Iris allowed herself to daydream over the next few days during her more tedious stretches of work: attending a lavish ball wearing her beautiful dress. A little fairy tale of her very own…

One morning, however, she was adjusting the placement of a slightly crooked button when the supervisor approached her. “Would you say your dress there is ready to sell?”

“I’ll give it another look over once I’ve reattached this button, but yes, everything else should be in order.”

“Well, if you’ve any other finishing touches or last minute repairs to make, you’d best do it tonight. We’ve got a buyer coming to pick it up first thing tomorrow morning.”

She felt an immediate pang of sorrow. This was it, then. Tomorrow she’d have to give the dress up to whichever generous buyer had been found for it.

A young couple passed by, chattering excitedly about the Valentoine masquerade, the young woman hoping she’d be finished with work tonight in time not to miss too much of it.

The masquerade was tonight? With how busy she’d been she’d lost all track of time.

Her eye was drawn back to the dress. She had a mad idea.

Surely, one night of frivolous fun wouldn’t hurt? She could borrow it for the evening, duck out before midnight, and bring it back to their workspace to make sure it was perfectly presentable before the buyer even arrived.

It was bold, certainly, but when would she have another opportunity like this, the ball and the dress coinciding at the perfect moment in time?

She tore her gaze away from the dress and began to plot.

Iris offered to stay behind and tidy up that evening, taking her time neatening up the workspace. When the last of the other weavers had left for the night, she glanced about to make sure she was truly alone before slipping the dress off the mannequin and changing out of her work clothes.

The weavers’ workspace only had a small wall mirror, but as she gave her reflection a once-over, her face broke into a wide grin. She looked like a princess. She put the finishing touches in place: a matching mask she’d spent the day hastily fashioning in between orders, and a flower plucked from the decorative bouquet one of the botanists had brought around tucked behind her ear. Giving herself one last look over, she stepped out into the night.

* * *

There were quite a few people still arriving as she reached the manor where the ball was being held, and she joined the crowd making its way steadily inside. The massive ballroom was alive with activity, the scene as bright and elegant as its occupants. She imagined she could content herself for hours just sitting and staring at all the lovely dresses on display as the other guests walked by.

But that wouldn’t do for tonight. She was here to make the most of her night of indulgence.

At first, she’d worried about getting caught in the act, as it were, but as she made her way around the party she began to relax and enjoy herself. Many of the people who stopped her for a chat or invited her to dance were quite kind, but no one seemed to recognize her. It was a bit awkward dodging the question of which noble house she belonged to, but she also received many compliments about her dress, which was a topic she was far better equipped to deal with. Eventually, giddy with excitement and nerves both, she stepped out onto a balcony to get a bit of fresh air just as the chronometer tolled eleven.

“Lively crowd in there tonight, eh?”

The comment came from a tall, richly dressed man leaning against the wall next to the door to the ballroom.

“Oh! Yes, it is. Forgive me, I didn’t know anyone else was out here. I suppose you needed a bit of a breather as well?”

“Indeed. These events can get to be a bit much around the holidays; everyone’s spirits are up and you’re racing to keep pace. Ah, but where are my manners?” He inclined in a small, polite bow. “Stephanivien de Haillenarte, at your service. May I ask your name? I don’t believe we’re acquainted.”

“I’m—” She stopped short, clamping down on the reflexive response. “I can’t tell you.” She could feel her face starting to heat. It felt terribly rude not to be able to answer.

Stephanivien, for his part, only wore a small smile. “Is that so? How mysterious. So, what brings you here tonight, flower girl?”

She reached up reflexively to touch the flower in her hair in a moment of embarrassment, her blush growing deeper. “A rare moment of indulgence, I suppose. Allowing myself a bit of fun and glamor. The company has been pleasant, and I’ve enough new ideas to keep me occupied for years from people watching alone.”

He perked up at that. “Oh? What manner of work do you do?”

“I’m a seamstress.”

“Ah, of course! Yes, I imagine such a setting would provide all variety of inspiration in that regard. Do forgive my enthusiasm; I so rarely meet other tradespeople at events such as this.”

“It’s no trouble. It’s enthusiasm that makes a craft worth doing, after all.”

“Would I be familiar with your work?” he asked. “I confess I do not often seek out formalwear, but I commission much of my work gear from the leatherworkers and weavers of the Jeweled Crozier and I know most of them personally.”

“Oh, I’m not in the business of selling things at the moment. Just volunteering my services to the reconstruction effort in the Firmament.” She wondered for a moment if perhaps she had said too much. There were plenty of artisans in the Firmament, plenty of weavers, even. Surely that alone wouldn’t be enough to give her away? She hastily changed the subject. “What about you? It sounds as though you do plenty of hands-on work yourself.”

“I’m the chief of the Skysteel Manufactory.”

“Oh my. That must keep you busy.”

“Busy enough that I’ve never quite gotten used to events like these,” he replied with a small laugh at his own expense. “But I haven’t lost all of my manners. Would you perhaps agree to a dance? You’re lovely company, and beautiful besides.”

Iris blushed beneath her mask. “You make quite charming company yourself. I’d be happy to.”

She took his offered arm, and they headed back into the ballroom. Their timing was excellent; a new song was just starting up. Iris enjoyed dancing, but she couldn’t claim to be an expert on the popular Ishgardian styles.

If Stephanivien noticed any nervousness in her demeanor, he did not show it, effortlessly guiding her into position. Thankfully for her, he was a skilled dancer, leading her through the steps with that same gentle touch.

“You’ve certainly attended enough of these parties to be good at this,” she teased as he spun her.

He laughed good-naturedly. “Comes with the territory of being the eldest of one of the High Houses, I suppose.”

Looking up at him, his blue eyes bright behind the handsome black and gold lines of his mask, she couldn’t help feeling a pang of regret over the anonymity required by her clandestine little outing. I certainly wouldn’t mind seeing him again, she thought as the song slowed to a stop.

Stephanivien withdrew only the barest step to offer the polite bow that marked the end of the dance before he glanced up at her. “Ah, your flower is crooked, here, let me…”

He reached out and delicately removed it from her hair, taking a moment to smooth a few of the petals. The brief brush of his hand in her hair had been entirely chaste, but intimate, and she felt her face warm once more. Before he could replace the flower, however, the chronometer began to toll.

Her heart clenched in a flash of panic. Midnight already? She needed to leave.

Stephanivien was still holding her flower, looking bemused at her sudden change of mood. “Is everything all right?”

“I’m so sorry, but I need to leave. You’re very kind, and I’ve had a wonderful time tonight.”

She dipped in as quick and neat a curtsy as she could manage, and turned to hurry for the door.

“Wait!”

Iris did not stop, did not turn back as she wove her way to the exit.

* * *

She continued at as brisk a pace as she could manage through the deserted streets, making up for losing track of time. The magic of the evening was fast fading behind her as she reached the dark and silent weavers’ workshop, changing as quickly as she could back into her regular clothes. She turned her attention to the dress then, lighting just enough of the lamps to see by as she inspected it carefully to make sure no hems or buttons had been loosened or snagged, nothing had stained the fabric, everything was perfectly presentable.

She gave the dress on the mannequin a final once-over. It was pristine, not a stitch out of place, not a stray thread or wrinkle to be seen. She checked for anything else that might rouse suspicion—her mask was tucked safely away in her pocket, and the flower she’d taken…

Ah. She’d left the flower with Stephanivien.

A single flower couldn’t be too incriminating, could it? Small bouquets had been handed out all across the Firmament to brighten up the crafters’ workspaces. The flower could be anyone’s, really.

Iris sighed. She supposed there was little she could do about it now. Best to get some rest. It was back to work again tomorrow, after all.

* * *

The flower had started to brown and dry out by the next morning, but he carried it with him all the same. It was one of the precious few clues he had; the others led him in the direction of the Firmament now. The woman from the ball had never given him her name, but he had that much to go on, at least. His first impulse had been to consult Francel, but with so little information to work with, he couldn’t be much help.

The Firmament was bustling, even at the early hour. The reconstruction effort had drummed up quite the crowd of tradespeople, and he kept an eye out as he wove his way through the crowd. It was to little avail, for he spotted no familiar face, and the thought occurred to him that she might be working out of sight inside one of the stalls lining the plaza, or she might not be here today at all. He frowned to himself. He’d only wished to see her again, if she wished the same, though with so little to go on he was at something of a loss.

As he scanned the crowd once more, his heart leaped into his throat when he spotted a familiar color—not the rich violet of the mystery woman’s hair or the blue of her eyes, but the powder blue shade of the gown she’d been wearing. Curiously enough, the woman carrying it was clearly not the woman he’d met last night; she was shorter, her hair the wrong color. Still, he hurried his way through the crowd towards her. She looked up as he approached.

“So sorry to bother you, madam, but may I ask where you got that dress? The tailor’s work is exquisite.”

The woman beamed at the secondhand compliment. “Isn’t it just? One of a kind, I’m afraid, but the woman who made it works over there.” She gestured in the direction of one of the stalls lining the plaza.

“Right! Thank you very much.”

His heart sped up as he approached the stall, noticing a bouquet on the counter with flowers matching the one he held. By some serendipity, she appeared from behind a partition at that moment, carrying a folded stack of sturdy workmans’ trousers. She turned to face him as she placed them on the front counter and gasped, her cheeks going pink. He ended up saying the first thing that came to mind.

“Ah, I don’t mean to intrude, but I did wish to return this to you.” He could feel the heat rising in his face as well as he held out the sad, wilting flower. “Though it seems you have a variety of finer ones to choose from.”

That startled a laugh from her. “I…you really came all this way just to return it?” Her tone was warm.

“Not just for that. I wanted to see you again. And perhaps ask your name, if you’d be willing.”

She was smiling now, bright as the sunlight on the snow. “I’m Iris,” she said. “It’s lovely to meet you.”

[lilaspose]

avi’li sostomi

thank you @thevikingwoman for tagging me! here is avi because I can’t resist talking about him ever

basics

Name: Avi’li Sostomi

Nicknames: Lia, formerly just used within his family and clan, but he has recently taken to introducing himself as Lia. Most of Thavnair knows him by that name, and he will introduce himself as Lia in Tural.

Age: 32 as of Dawntrail

Nameday: I can’t remember, but he’s a Leo

Race/Clan: Miqo’te, Keepers of the Moon

Gender/pronouns: Cisman, he/him

Orientation: Bisexual, demi-romantic

Profession: Warrior of Light, adventurer by trade, hero by circumstance

physical aspects

Hair: A cool white

Eyes: bright jade green

Skin: cool pale skin, with pink undertones

Tattoos/scars:

facial tattoos that represent age in his clan for men (one side is tattooed when you’re a teenager, the other side if tattooed when you become an adult; Avi’li got his second set of tattoos after Stormblood)

covered in scars from numerous battles; most notably is the gaping scar over his heart

family

Parents: Read about Avi and Toki’to here

Siblings: Read about Aya, Sina, Fen, and Toa here

Grandparents: He would only know his maternal grandparents, who are both dead now, but he had fond memories of them that are TBD.

Other: The Fourtemps, who he will always think fondly of, and keep in his heart; the Scions, who he is forever devoted to for as long as he loves

skills

Abilities: so many… he’s primarily a blade wielder, and channels his aether into a variety of weapons (PLD, NIN, DRK, DNC); recently picked up and is practicing with a bow, turns out he’s a pretty good marksman, all of that target practice with lightning must have helped his aimed (BRD)

Special mention, he has charisma and rizz for days

Hobbies: picking up any intellectual pursuit that interests him at the time (SMN, SCH, AST, SGE, alchemy, etc…MCH*)

MCH: picked up as a favor to Aymeric; Avi’li and Stephanivien actually have a lot in common in how much they love experimenting with shit; Avi’li is NOT happy about this fact

traits

Most Positive Trait: the limitless, transformative love he has for others; his love runs deep and is often overwhelming for him to wrap his mind around, but he loves so strongly; should a friend leave his side, go their own way, never to be seen for years after, Avi’li will still love them as strongly as before; should a romance end, hearts broken, Avi’li won’t just stop loving them, his love for them transforms into something different but just as powerful

Most Negative Trait: his selfishness; it’s something he’s grown out of and sunken into in waves; he is the spoiled youngest of his family and empathy and compassion and patience for others is something that he had to hone and refine

likes

Colors: he doesn’t have a favorite color, but he likes dressing in cool, jewel tones

Smells: Maple, pine, mint, coconut

Textures: Soft surfaces you can sink into, sand beneath your feet, warm surfaces in the sun

Drinks: Black coffee

other details

Smokes: no

Drinks: yes; overindulges in social settings

Drugs: probably

Been arrested: I’m 95% sure he was arrested in Ishgard at some point when he was moonlighting as a Dark Knight

[jefarawol]

Stephanivien walked along the wall, he had just delivered a shipment to the newly restored housing ward. His eyes caught sight of a familiar tail as the Warrior of Light walked back along the path in his direction

“Jefara!” He waved to her. “Well met my friend.” “Well met Stephanivien,” she returned his greeting. “How is your work?” “Very well. Things are proceeding apace under Francel’s careful eye.” “He is doing a wonderful job.” She smiled looking over to the stalls where Francel was likely supervising again, he had become invested in helping at the new orphanage. She suspected the reason, to be the sweet tempered young lady she had caught him staring at several times over the previous days.

“Tesó has been busy preparing for your union. Are you happy the day is upon us?” She turned her attention back to the machinist. “You mean am I ecstatic to be marrying the love of my life tomorrow?” Stephanivien couldn't help the grin at the thought.

“I owe you everything Jefara.” the machinist dropped to sit on the bench. “My life. My love. Everything.” “You owe me nothing, Stephanivien” “Steph.” “What?” “Artoirel calls you his sister. Which means you'll be my sister when we marry.” He took her hand gently as she stepped up beside him. “I'd have you call me as they do.” “Are you sure?” She looked at how small her hand looked in his.  “Quite sure.” He smiled brightly. “Art explained your naming to me, I don't expect you to give me the same if you do not wish to share it.” “Hmmm.” She squeezed his hand as tightly as she could. “I wouldn't mind if you called me Jara.” “Truly?” his eyes shone brightly. “Truly,” she smiled back.

They sat for a moment. “You seem more at ease, these last few weeks.” Stephanivien tilted his head towards her. “Each day is a little easier.” She nodded. “I've enjoyed the little things, being able to work. Although I fear my time will be at an end soon. Alphinaud is anxious for us to return to the Rising Stones.” “You will be missed when you do. You've helped so many people here.” He relaxed in his seat. “I wager a certain someone, will miss you most than any of us.” “Steph-”

“Are you both slacking off?!” A voice interrupted them. They spun their heads to see Francel approach arms folded as he stared at them eyebrows raise.

“No more than you with your new girlfriend brother.” Stephanivien quipped back. “I'm impressed You've managed to pull yourself away from ogling her.” “I do not ogle!” France huffed, “Nor do I have a girlfriend!” Jefara chuckled, she wasn't the only one Who had noticed his less than obvious crush.

“Oh don't be like that Franny,” Stephanivien winked at Jefara before he stood, spinning his brother round and putting his arm around his shoulder playfully. “Have you asked her to the party?” the machinist continued. “Let's go ask her.” “Steph what!?” Jefara heard him splutter. “Steph no!”

“See you tomorrow Jara!” Steph called back. “And tell Art not to work to late! We have dinner plans.” “I will remind him,” she watched them go. Stephanivien continuing to walk With his littlest brother securely in a head lock back towards the orphanage. 

She would miss them all. She sighed as she looked over the buildings to the rooftop she knew held Aymeric's office. The Lord Speaker was no doubt working tirelessly on the new Ishgardian policies.

You most of all…

[speciosuspoematis]

@frigusignis || DRABBLE. || Stephanivien && Cyvel Content Warnings for mentions of abuse.

The purest of gentleness guides the motion of his hand, a sterile cotton wool boll pinched softly betwixt fingers used to dab gingerly at bruising and scuffs in which had been struck into skin. Focus was all Cyvel could grip to, knowing that his aid - though limited - would, at least, prevent further pain and discomfort but his hand trembled lightly through the force of fear and anger held within.

There was no forgiveness for such treatment, not when it was a father to his grown son: the poet had first hand experience, kept such tales tucked to his breast where no other would pry, but he knew maltreatment when he saw it - - and just as he offered no forgiveness nor understanding to his own sire, he would not to Stephan's either.

He has to allow his hand to briefly drop, heart hitting the very pits of his stomach once again as he observed the others resigned, distant expression - evidently barely taking much notice of what was now going on in the silence of the manufactory. Just the two of them, with Stephanivien sat upon the desk and Cyvel stood before him, tending the wound to his cheek and the bruising surrounding a cheekbone.

It hurt - - to see such a bright, happy individual to stunted by such an arrogant and vulgar person; familiar reasons, of one could call them such, echoing within ones ears.

Three or four times now had Cyvel made attempts to rouse Stephan from his current process: be it in deep thought or lost to the feelings that came with the abuse received, he didn't know, but he knew that gentleness was paramount and thus, only a moment further passed before he slipped off his own jacket and wrapped it around the other. It was beginning to get cold, with the machinery off and the fire dying down, they had but only the candles to see and the late hour offered naught but the promise of blizzards.

"Stephan -?" He tries once more, this time while dabbing some ointment unto the beginnings of dark bruising. A balm, ever soft, came upward to rest upon the males other cheek, one that was not speckled with pink and purple, allowing the light brushing of his thumb to hopefully offer a less vibrant rouse from whatever was gripping his mind so forcefully.

Another moment of no response, until eyes of the most beauteous blue turned to him and with a sorrowful smile did the poet lean over, with the aid of tip toes, to press only the lightest of kisses unto bruising. It was but the very first time in which his lips had touched Stephan's skin and while he would have much rathered an occasion akin to a romance novel, he thought their current moment begged for it more. Close contact, trust, comfort - - everything Cyvel had always wished he had from a young boy, he offered now to Stephan without a modicul of hesitance.

"Come home with me, this eve? I cannot bare the thought of you attempting to rest here." No, and he would make certain that he didn't: even if his offer was rejected, he would sooner see him into an inn room than 'pon that floor. "Let me be your freedom, let daylight dry your tears; I'm here with you beside you, to guard you and to guide you."

A shuddered breath draw inward, hopeful eyes so filled to the brim with fear and uncertainty fixated upon his most dear companion - - hanging on, waiting for an answer. And oh, how he hoped he would be able to guide him back to the newly renovated family home where he could tuck him away from the harshness of the world and love him, quietly. Hoping - - so much - - that he could perhaps soothe and comfort well enough to brave the dawning of the next day.

"Please, Stephan... Come home with me? That's all I ask of you."

[sezja]

Character ask game: "25. What was your first impression of this character? How about now?" for Aymeric and Joye :>

CHARACTER ASK GAME!!!

I was honestly pretty indifferent to Aymeric during his early appearances in ARR - he didn't really register as particularly noteworthy beyond a kind of, "Oh, he's sort of the leader of Ishgard, I guess?"

To be fair to Aymeric, he's introduced at a point where, in my first playthrough, I was kind of disenchanted with the game to begin with, and therefore not super eager to get invested in any of the characters; I'm not sure there's much he could have done to instantly win me over - I didn't dislike him, but I wasn't exactly intrigued enough to want to know more, you know?

Naturally, he changed my mind over the course of Heavensward; he's now probably my favorite head of state, and I'm always glad to see him. He's warm, he's welcoming, and he's always eager to offer the WoL whatever help he can while putting the needs of Ishgard and her people first - he always remembers his duty to his people, and understands that change comes hard.

(I now ship him - and Estinien - with my WoL Coeli Qoet, which is noteworthy; I don't have many WoL/NPC ships.)

AS FOR JOYE

Joye my beloved 💖

I thought she was adorable immediately, and was instantly charmed by the relationship she has with Stephanivien. They had me hooked at "Joye, if you please!"

I've only grown to love her more and more on subsequent playthroughs, and finding out that she and Hilda not only get along well but are now sneaking off to develop new marksmanship techniques?? That was written especially for me, specifically.