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chysgoda · 14 days

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Beginning City

A prompt fill for @voidsentprinces's countdown to Dawntrail prompts!

Art’imis sipped the tea Momodi had given her. Momodi herself had been called away to get four new adventurers signed up in her book. They looked so damn young. Even younger than her daughter who was now a seasoned soldier and adventurer herself. How many books had been filled up with names since she had put her own down? That had been…she didn’t want to think about that number.

“And what’s gotten that expression on your face?” Momodi asked. The lalafellan woman placed her hands on her hips.

“I think I need to Limsa up this tea,” Art’imis sighed, “with the good stuff.”

“And what brought that on?” Momondi laughed as she looked for the whiskey in the cupboards under the counter.

“Thall’s platinum balls, they’re babies!” The paladin made a vague gesture in the direction the newly sanctioned adventurers had wandered off in. “Babies!”

“Art’imis you were that old when you came to Ul’dah.” Momondi said, her words muffled by the counter. She popped up with the whiskey bottle she’d been looking for and poured a generous amount in the tea cup.

Art’imis wrinkled her nose as she protested. “I was in my twenties when I signed that book!”

Momondi reached up to flick the end of an ivory horn. She snorted when Art’imis made a face at the buzz it caused in her head. “You were that age when you started on the blood sands, which some people might say is worse.”

Art’imis took a long sip of her fortified tea so she could ignore Momondi’s snorted laughter at her sulk. She looked out across the tavern and back through the years. So many landmarks in her early adventuring career had happened here. So many meals were taken here when Bel was young and she’d been too dead tired to cook for them at home. For a few years it had been the only place in Ul’dah she had felt safe after the bloody banquet.

“A gil for your thoughts?” Momondi asked.

Art’imis blinked and came back to the present, “Just remembering when I practically lived here between meals, seeing what leves there were, meeting clients.”

The Momodi started wiping down the counter in the barman’s never ending battle with smudges. “You had a bit of an advantage with clients back then, since you’d been rubbing elbows with the who’s who of the upper crust for almost a decade before Mylla kicked you down to us.”

Art’imis laughed and took another sip of tea. “Just been thinking about beginnings and new adventures.”

“And where’s your eye turning next?” Momondi leaned against the counter always ready for the latest gossip.

“X’rhun and I will be heading to Tural sometime soon.” Art’imis turned so she was fully facing the other woman. When had those crow’s feet developed around her eyes? She took another sip of her tea. “I’m thinking of taking Gale and Zephyr, giving the shield a rest.”

“Pelhi’sae’s blades?”

“I think I can pick up the style again without spiraling,” Art’imis looked from her tea cup up into Momodi’s face.

Momodi frowned for a long moment and then rubbed her forehead. “Have you spoken to Mylla?”

It was easier to tell when Art’imis was irritated now, Momodi thought, the golden aether scaring glinted when her eyebrows twitched subtly. Art’imis was better at keeping that irritation from ruling her responses now too, so her voice was even. “No, I didn’t think there was a need to.”

Momodi looked out over the tables filled with adventurers and all the folk that tended to congregate around them. She turned her head to the ruby door, she could still picture Mylla practically dragging one of the highest earning stars on the sands in to sign up with the adventurer’s guild… had it really been fifteen years ago?

Silence stretched between them and Art’imis deflated just a bit. “I was in bad straights then.”

“You’d have been a dead woman walking if you’d continued on the path you were on,” Momodi stated plainly. She’d always prided herself on being honest with her adventurers.

The woman known as the warrior of light flinched and then rested her weight on the edge of the bar. “I guess you’ve a right to worry. You saw the worst of it, when I spiraled out after Pelhi’sae’s death.”

Momodi rested a hand on Art’imis’s arm. “He was your father in every way that counted, how you lost him would have broken anyone.”

“There’s been a lot of my stories that have ended since the final days, I’d like to finish this one too. I need to be able to look back on him without those years just after haunting me.” Art’imis looked at the wall behind Momodi.

“You’ve got people who care enough to keep you together, now.” The matron didn’t comment on the wet sheen in her friend’s eyes. “You don’t need to ask for my blessing to do this.”

“No, but I didn’t want you to worry when you saw them on my back.”

Momodi patted her arm, “thank you for the warning, but you’d best let Mylla know as well.”

“I think I’ll need some more Limsan tea,” Art’imis grimaced, thinking of approaching the high strung guild mistress, “without the tea.”

Momodi laughed and left the whiskey bottle at Art’imis’s elbow so she could attend to a patron approaching the bar. The raen woman watched her and considered the roll book that still sat on the bar. She finished her tea and indulged her wandering mind in some philosophy, just because the story was finished didn’t mean it vanished. She poured a shot into the tea cup and slammed it back before sealing the bottle. She fished a small bag of gil out of her pocket and caught Momodi’s eye. She held up the bottle and then dropped the gil pouch onto one of the many step stools behind the bar.

Offering obtained, Art’imis stood and went to see Mylla.

#ffxiv #ffxiv fan fiction #countdown to dawntrail #red head writes a thing #momodi modi #art'imis chysgoda

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myreia · 4 months

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Divergence of the Heart

CHAPTER THREE: COERTHAN WISDOM

Chapter Rating: Teen (full story rating is Explicit) Characters: Aureia Malathar (WoL), Aymeric de Borel, Thancred Waters, Hilda Ware Pairings: Aureia/Aymeric, Aureia/Thancred, Thancred/Hilda Chapter Words: 2,176 Notes: Set during the Heavensward patches. Summary: Aureia Malathar may have made a name for herself in Ishgard, but her deeds come with a hefty personal toll. Despite her victories at the Grand Melee she has never felt more unsure of herself. Her relationship with Thancred—the person she thought knew her the best—is strained, yet she cannot abandon him. Aymeric is falling for her harder with each passing day, yet she cannot bring herself to accept it. All may be fair in love and war, but at least war is predictable. Love on the other hand… Chapters: 1 • 2 • 3 • 4 • 5 • 6 • 7 • 8 • 9 • 10 • 11 Read on AO3

The letter remains forgotten for weeks.

It wasn’t long after the Grand Melee that the next crisis Thancred feared so much raised its ugly head. Estinien’s dramatic return at Falcon’s Nest threw Ishgard into a panic. With her thoughts bent on stopping Nidhogg’s vengeance and severing his control of her friend, all other concerns were disregarded.

It was only by the skin of their teeth that they triumphed. The city remains scarred, the bridge to the Gates of Judgement shattered and broken. They came so close to losing everything. If they had not been so fortunate, if luck had not been on their side…

“Aureia.”

A softspoken voice, a gentle squeeze of her shoulder.

Pulling herself out of her thoughts, Aureia raises her head and glances up. Aymeric towers over her, a mug of steaming tea in his hands. Though he has barely visited his office since the battle on the Steps of Faith, he remains uniformed, his greatsword resting against the far wall. The candlelight catches his earring, the blue diamond casting a glint against his pale skin.

“Here,” he says, proffering the mug. “I thought you could use something before you fall asleep.”

Returning his smile, she takes the mug and raises it to her lips. The gesture sends a strange little warmth coursing through her chest that has nothing to do with the tea. It wasn’t that long ago that another dear friend had done just the same, granting her a moment of peace when she thought her life upended.

The circumstances now are quite different.

Aymeric settles into a chair next to her and sips quietly at his own mug. Together, they have stood vigil over Estinien’s sickbed, trading off with Alphinaud. Though the chirurgeons have assured them that he will make a full recovery, Aureia cannot shake the worry weighing on her shoulders. It is the same for all of them.

Estinien is too dear, too important. For Aymeric, he is the dear friend whose life he would end only as a final resort. For Alphinaud, he is the one he would save, the one he could not fail after Haurchefant’s death. And for Aureia herself… he is her staunchest ally who has dragged her out of more messes than she can count. She could not leave him to his fate. After everything he has done for her, she owed him that much.

“Thank you,” Aureia murmurs, sipping on the tea. The liquid is warm and pleasant, lightly spiced. It will keep her awake long enough for Alphinaud to return.

Aymeric settles into the chair next to her. “Though has occurred to me that if you wish to sleep, you should,” he says. “Please do not push yourself on my account—”

“And leave you here all on your own?” she interrupts, an affectionate smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “Without me you are wont to do paperwork at Estinien’s bedside and we can’t have that, now can we? What would he say if he woke up to find you with your nose glued to a sheaf of parchment?”

He blushes, covering it with an awkward cough. “Glued is a fair bit of an exaggeration, don’t you think? It is not quite like that—”

“Your best friend nearly died and you’re here at his bedside in uniform. Even now, I can see you thinking. You may not have a pen to put to paper here, but I can see those wheels turning. In all this time I’ve known you, you have never stopped working.”

“I… have. At times.”

She sets down her mug and folds her arms. “Oh, really?” she replies, raising an eyebrow. A challenge. “When? Do tell, I’m dying of curiosity. And the times you have been thrown in prison or otherwise inconvenienced do not count.”

“I… well…” He presses curled knuckles to his mouth, a look of consternation crossing his face. “Lucia could tell you.”

Aureia snorts with laughter and shakes her head, barely able to contain her grin. “Oh, Aymeric,” she says, lightly touching his shoulder. “You make this too easy.”

He pauses, his gaze lingering on her hand. “Easy…?”

“I’m teasing,” she continues, picking up her mug. She shifts comfortably in her seat and settles into a slouched position, nursing her spiced tea. “I’ve known very few people with your will and determination. It’s admirable. But you must learn to take time for yourself before you wear yourself thin. Take it from someone who knows it all too well.”

Aymeric falls silent and sips his tea quietly, lost in thought. His gaze passes over Estinien, lingering on his sleeping face. “I will have to thank him when he wakes,” he says. “It is only thanks to his tomfoolery that we have been given a reprieve.”

“Perhaps. I’d advise against calling it tomfoolery or he might strike you with his lance.”

“Then it is a risk I must take.”

They exchange looks, sharing a small smile.

Aureia sets down her empty mug and loops a lock of black hair behind her ear, exposing the delicate point. It is hard to break the habit of hiding the most noticeable feature of her heritage while in Ishgard. Haurchefant warned her, all those months ago, that the nobility would not look fondly on her mixed heritage. Though it is easier now than it was then, even her status and fame are not enough to dissuade the murmurs and stares.

But in the company of friends, she is free to be herself. Aymeric has never judged her, not even when she was a stranger. He has his own burdens of parentage, as she knows all too well. Perhaps they have a commonality, in that way.

She’s all too aware of the way he watches her now, observing her with that quiet, familiar wonder. Thancred once called it a look of boundless relief and joy, irritably calling out Aymeric’s inability to hide his own emotions. She was infuriated with him then, too bothered by this soured version of his customary wit to think much of what he said. But now she recalls… Did he realize something that she did not?

Gods, help me, I think it might be love. One would think a politician more practiced at concealing his emotions.

The realization hits her like a slap to the face.

Aureia freezes, her heart pounding fitfully in her chest. Exhaling a breath, she adjusts her position in her chair and curls her fingers around the edge of her armrest. “Perhaps we should speak of something else?” she ventures carefully, fervently praying that her voice sounds casual. “Unrelated to duty or politics or…”

Shit.

She trails off, cursing inwardly. This is more difficult than she thought.

“There was one topic I wished to broach,” Aymeric says. He pauses, his gaze flickering once again to Estinien. He wets his lower lip, as if he if hesitant to speak his next words. “After the Grand Melee, I sent you a letter. As you did not respond, I thought perhaps that I had been too forward and presumptuous with my words, but then… I recalled the messenger’s youth and nervousness at approaching you alone. There was perhaps a chance that my letter never reached you.”

Aureia’s heart clenches. The letter! The letter…

“Fuck,” she blurts.

His brows raise in momentary shock. Then he collapses in a fit of laughter, a hand pressed to his face, his shoulders shaking.

“I’m so sorry!” Aureia continues, the words falling fast and furious from her lips. “Aymeric, I never intended to leave it unanswered, I… gods… fuck… I… I’m a fool and an idiot, and that is the only excuse I have. Nidhogg returned so soon afterwards, I don’t know how, but I—”

“It is all right, my friend,” he says, lowering his hand. He gazes joyously at her, his eyes shining bright. He is unable to contain his grin. “I had a feeling something of the sort had occurred. Consider us both fools and idiots, then, as I should have inquired much sooner than I did. This is the second time my invitation has fallen through. If I didn’t know better, I’d assume Halone herself was insistent that nothing ever come of it.”

She pauses, returning his gazes. Her heart flutters in her chest. Gods, what is wrong with her?

Aymeric shifts in his seat, drawing close to her. “Aureia,” he says. He rests a hand tentatively next to hers on the armrest, his fingers brushing hers. “If I may—”

The door creaks open. Reacting on instinct, Aymeric withdraws his hand and Aureia shifts to the edge of her chair, putting distance between them. They turn as one to face the threshold.

Alphinaud pokes his head through the door. “Uh, Lord Commander?” he says tentatively. “If I may have a word…?”

Aymeric gives her a knowing look and rises to his feet. “Of course, Master Alphinaud,” he replies. He crosses the room quickly and disappears through the threshold, closing the door behind him.

Aureia exhales a long breath and bows over in her seat, her palms pressed to her knees. Battling Garleans, confronting primals, defeating dragons… That is simple compared to the chaos of her own heart. Hilda once asked her if someone in Ishgard had caught her eye. Perhaps it wasn’t that someone has caught her eye. Perhaps it is that she has only now realized that someone has been there all along—

Her stomach plummets. She doesn’t want to think about Hilda. Or Thancred. Or whatever circumstances have pushed them together.

Thancred…

“Fuck,” she says.

He left Ishgard almost a month back. Their final conversation is still stark in her mind, leaving her numb if she thinks about it too long. She doesn’t know where they stand. Perhaps she could have loved him once, but not now. Not like this. The time for that passed them by.

He has made that all too clear.

“…you’re an idiot,” a rough voice says.

Aureia bolts upright, shocked out of her stupor. “Estinien?” she breathes, resting a hand on the edge of his bed.

The dragoon’s eyes remain closed, his face a sickly grey, his hands folded neatly on top of the covers. As always, he draws little breath, his chest barely moving. His lips crack open, broken and dry, and he coughs weakly.

“Do me a favour and go with him for once. Give it a chance, for Fury’s sake. He will never shut up about you otherwise.”

Aureia grips the covers, twisting a fistful between her fingers. “Estinien—”

Too late. His head lolls on his shoulder, as if he had never woken.

The door opens. Aymeric and Alphinaud pass through the threshold, both with severe looks on their faces. Distracted as she is by Estinien’s words, Aureia can’t fathom what they’ve discussed.

“Let me take your place,” Alphinaud says, dropping into Aymeric’s chair. “You must be exhausted. Go and rest. I will notify you if he wakes.”

Aureia nods, mouth too dry to speak. Rising from her seat, she places a gentle hand on Alphinaud’s shoulder, then meets Aymeric’s eyes. He nods, shooting a sideways glance at the door, and collects his greatsword. She sweeps across the room, Aymeric only a few steps behind, and together they pass through the threshold and out into the hallway.

“You should know he woke very briefly,” Aureia says as they walk side-by-side. The flickering lamplight guides their steps, casting a golden glow across the cold stone walls.

Aymeric falls silent. Their footfalls echo together in a measured pace. “Did he speak?” he asks after a moment, a raw pain in his voice. “What did he say?”

“He cursed at me and fell asleep.”

He laughs weakly and inhales a shaky breath. “Of course. I would expect nothing less of him.”

“Aymeric—”

Aureia seizes his hand, pulling him to a stop, and raises her chin to meet his eyes. She is a good fulm shorter than him, if not more, the top of her head barely reaching his upper chest. He stares at her with a strangely wistful look in his eyes, and his hand brushes her cheek, pushing a lock of hair behind her ear. They stand there for some time, alone in that hall, their profiles illuminated by lamplight, both frozen by hesitance.

“Aureia, perhaps a third time is too much, but I would ask again,” Aymeric says. “Have dinner with me.”

She pauses. Why is her heart aching? “And this time you may have my answer,” she replies. “I would be glad to. On one condition.”

“What?” he asks, sudden dismay in his voice.

Chuckling, she lifts up on tiptoe and pats his cheek. He will never not be easy to tease. “Let’s make it soon—before another crisis arrives to distract us.”

Aymeric smiles, quiet joy crinkling the corners of his eyes. “At the very least, I can promise you that,” he says, raising her hand to his lips. He gently kisses it and lets go. “Until then, my lady. Goodnight.”

#ffxiv #ff14 #final fantasy 14 #ffxiv fic #ffxiv fan fiction #wolmeric #ffxiv wol #aymeric de borel #aureia malathar #oc tag #writing tag

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casualcatte · 1 year

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[RE] Roleplay Recap: Week 12

Welcome to another Roleplay Recap! The weekly blog where I give you a glimpse into my roleplay shenanigans! Enjoy! Like what you read? Likes & Reblogs always appreciated! Ko-fi tip jar on the blog!

Katja Our resident firecatte met up with the necromancer’s construct, Litany, along with her friend Valeria Camena. They were hoping to interrogate the familiar on more details about Rihad and his background with the Vanguard, but Litany claimed to have told them all he knows. It was a curious conversation where they learned a little more about the enigmatic armored man. After speaking to him…

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#Character Fiction #FFXIV Fan Fiction #FFXIV Fanfic #FFXIV Original Character #Gospel Lightfaith #Katja Armitanis #Koh&039;li Nbolo #Lafiel Elumenel #Litany #Mesa Kha #Saya Kiyohara #Seventh Chantry #Syrio Nessaire #Valeria Camena #Vanguard Company

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queerleaflet · 9 months

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"You're safe here, I promise."

"Will you hold my hand?"

(Why not both?)

It was odd to see there be light in the otherwise still inn room, yet the full moon flooded between unnaturally parted curtains in spite of that fact. They waved to and fro lazily with the summer evening air, a tide of their own choosing. Someone was here.

Someone was here, surely, as the door opened and caused the windowsill to creak in surprise. For any other, it would be an empty room, someone who had forgotten to close the windows before leaving it vacant. But G’enta knew more, heard more….and would never leave such a thing unattended.

Her satchel was set with a silent ‘sniff.’ Green eyes glinted against the lunar lighting, staring at the window with alertness….then a tired concern.

“…Eteion, I know you’re there.” Concern turned to kindness, the cat stepped over to the window. The creaking resumed uncomfortably, curtains revealing the once invisible entelechy shaking at the edge. Striking blue eyes stared into the miqo’te’s as she trembled. It looked as if the little bird had been crying for quite some time. “…oh.”

“I’m…s-sorry..” Meteion gripped at the curtains with tiny hands. The fabric provided an effective-albeit scratchy- stim for the moment. “I…I didn’t….mean, to…s-scare…you…u…”

“You think you could scare me, huh?” Her signature smirk, reassuring to the last.

“…b-but you’re…s…scared. I’m…scared….too.” Her words brought G’enta to pause….and she understood. She WAS scared. Having witnessed what she had, the crimson moon of the 13th, the miserable fate of her friend’s sister, watching a loved one hurl themselves into the unknown and nearly perishing before their eyes AGAIN…not even knowing what would happen to them, should Zeromus emerge in the source?

G’enta hoisted herself up on the windowsill next to her, taking a moment to rearrange her tail so it sat comfortably. “…Yer right about that. We’re in another pile of shite reaching apocalyptic proportions. That’s enough to scare anyone….especially you.”

“I….I feel…them.” The bird looked down to her hands, held together, curtain between them. “Even those who don’t…feel Vrtra’s….unease. The dragons….they hurt. And the other….if we don’t…w-we can’t…” Her wings drooped, eyes moving about as if she was seeing something else, somewhere else. Of course, the dragons….her appointed star, ostrakon deal okto, the dragonstar. The thoughts were stopped abruptly, paused as a warm hand fell gently on her head.

“Eteion.” Soft words in a strong voice, soothing and settling. “You aren’t alone this time. And we aren’t about to let our star, our home get taken over by something like this. Before you came back I’m sure you saw it from Stinien and I…this is by far not the biggest threat we have handled. Not by a long shot.” The hand would move to pet her, adding to the grounding. “You’re safe here, I promise.”

“…” another tear fell down the girl’s cheek, but it was soon wiped away by the woman beside her. She leaned into her companion’s shoulder, weighing nothing against the denser aether. “I…want to believe…you…but….it’ll take…time…”

“That’s perfectly fine. We have all the time in the world.” G’enta hummed, glancing up at the moon’s reflection in the mirror of her room. “Fear takes us all…it’s a part of being alive. It’s what we do with it that makes the difference.”

“…will you…hold my hand?”

There was no audible response, just warm, clawed hands gently taking the entelechy’s. As she leaned into her shoulder, so did the other in kind, setting her head to rest against her feather’d friend. She knew of all people what it took to learn the hard way life after a sheltered upbringing…and she would take this entelechy under her wing until she had the courage to learn about the world herself…with her own courage.

#ffxiv fan fiction #Drabble #G’enta tuues #tuues #meteion #ew spoilers #ffxiv ew spoilers #6.4 spoilers #prompt

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melfinamoonwind · 2 years

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🆆🅷🅾 🅰🅼 🅸? 🆆🅷🆈 🆆🅰🆂 🅸 🅼🅰🅳🅴? 🆆🅷🅾 🅼🅰🅳🅴 🅼🅴? 🅰🅽🅳 🆆🅷🅰🆃 🅳🅸🅳 🆃🅷🅴🆈 🅼🅰🅺🅴 🅼🅴 🅵🅾🆁?"

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yyako · 1 year

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Drawing Wesley SunHaven before they reveal his official romanceable portrait and make him as boring and homogeneous as all the other marriage candidates

#sun haven #sun haven wesley #my bf designed wesley to personally attack my garbage taste in fictional men #and FFXIV elezen #but especially FFXIV's emet-selch #that's why he's got the white stripe #art #fan art

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kalina-moonbride · 3 days

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Copperbell Mines (ARR Dungeon)

For @voidsentprinces' "Countdown to Dawntrail"!

Context: Level 17 quest "Into a Copper Hell". Spoilers: Just that quest. Warnings: The general wtf'ery of said quest--slavery, capitalism

Kalina Jovasch stared at Papashan, across the table at the Quicksand. Blinked. Scratched her chin with the tip of a claw. "Let me see if I understand this right."

The Lalafell nodded. "Of course. Whatever questions you have about the petition, I can answer. Or perhaps Painted Mesa can."

"You enslaved these hecatoncheire folk."

Papashan tilted his head. "Well, now, I didn't enslave them. Nor did anyone still living. Our predecessors in the Thorne Dynasty did, centuries ago."

"Ah. Your people enslaved them. Then buried them. And now they're fighting back? As you say, understandably so."

"Yes." He shot a nervous glance at Momodi, who made a don't look at me face.

"And now you want me to put them back in their prison."

"Yes!"

"Let me think." She folded her arms, closed her eyes, tilted her head down, waited there for a few moments, making a show of it. Then all in a burst, she stood up from the table, shoving her chair backward and swatting the tabletop with the palm of a hand. "No way in all the hells."

Papashan flinched. "But... Ul'dah's economy..."

Kalina shook her head. "Nah. I won't have that blood on my hands. Talk to them, maybe? Or find yourself another mine. Or if you absolutely must crush this rebellion, I suggest teaming up with Garlemald. I hear they're into that sort of thing." Breathing through fury, she turned and left to seek work at some other adventuring guild.

#seriously wtf #it doesn't even change the story AT ALL if this dungeon never happens #ffxiv #oc: kalina moonbride #countdown to dawntrail #fan fiction

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wilhelmina-tepes · 8 months

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Naughty tentacle stuff with Hades. If you are a minor don't read. Warnings for tentacles, non-con adjacent, bindings, just general monster smut and I suppose voyeurism in a way. Just something in my head that needed to come out.

This is it. You contemplate your final moments in battle. Flailing in Hades gaol you know the end is coming and yet…your body has betrayed you up to this point. If one were to see you they would assume you were flush from battle but he saw the truth.

“Oh hero, now that is not very virtuous.” He could see the evidence on your small clothes as you legs wiggled about trying to free themselves from their invisible tethers.

You were soaking wet for him and now he knew.

A shadowy tentacle slithered from his enormous hands to inspect between your legs, the wetness evident even between your thighs.

“My my, simply from being in the presence of my true form? Mayhap there is more though to my heroes intentions?”

You heard the sound of that accursed portal opening within the shadowy gaol you were held in, the tentacle now pulling the offending material away to expose you. A too solid version of his Garlean form stood next to you running a gloved finger up your leg and then pushing it to spread your legs further for the slithering mass now prodding at your entrance.

“How delicious that the broken little hero yearns for her adversary, what would your devoted followers think or even more, how disappointed your goddess must be.” The tentacle pressed into you with a loud squelch instantly filling your aching cunt.

You cried out in pleasure full to the brim with him.

“Why…why bother with this?” You motioned desperately at both versions of him fighting overwhelming pleasure.

More tentacles appear twisting you, ass in the air as another slimy thing prods at your behind. Another intrusion and now he has you, both holes filled with another tentacle sliding around your throat. You moan again feeling so stretched but the double sensation only makes your pussy weep more for him.

“I have been telling you all along my savage hero.” He runs a gloved finger down your spine as the last tentacle fills your mouth. “I like to watch.”

#emet selch #ffxiv #final fantasy xiv #shadowbringers #final fantasy 14 #fan fiction #smut #don't judge me

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karoiseka · 15 days

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🍓🧩!

🍓 ⇢ how did you get into writing fanfiction?

Well, the FIRST stuff was way back at the beginning of high school, and I didn't have a word for it, it was just... self-insert joy into a fandom that actually had a few too many rules that I didn't know about till later... (aka Valdemar and the Queen's Own FF group). I actually, if you'll believe, got away with writing these self-inserts as freakin' creative writing assignments *in my AP English 10* class. I'm looking back at myself very embarrassed. I have them all typed up in a folder in a bin in the basement somewhere, and if I dare, maybe someday I'll type them back out in their horrible most likely atrocious cringy glory. lol (I'm talking the whole gang is there crushes and all...)

This was followed by writing out a few stories of my Star Wars RPG group's adventures around the same time. (a bit better written since the two I was writing with were much better at it than I). Again, no idea this was called fan fiction at the time.

Insert 20 year gap. Insert FFXIV and beautiful people like @aethernoise who made me want to know more about Karo, because I loved learning about Alyx through her writing. The keyboard was attacked once more, and I've endeavored to try and get at least a bit better, despite having (as usual and a theme in my life) a hard time practicing.

🧩 ⇢ what will make you click away from a fanfiction immediately?

Honestly? Bad grammar. Atrociously bad grammar. I know mine isn't the BEST, but... if the words don't flow, and it's stilted and too broken, I just am not going to be able to get into it. (and I mean it has to be REALLY bad for me to click out. like within two sentences I know I'm not going to be able to handle it).

That, or starting to read and realizing I either miss-read or misunderstood the description and it was NOT what I was expecting/wanting/needing to read at the time. Otherwise, just anything that normally would squick me out.

#ffxiv #ask me!#thank you!#fan fiction

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shinennohane · 7 months

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A Pretty Face Mistaken

>>>Read on AO3<<<

#Alphinaud #Alphinaud Leveilleur #Alphinaud x Estinien #Estinaud #Estinien #Estinien Varlineau #Fan Fiction #FFXIV #FFXIV Fanfic #FFXIV Fanfiction #Final Fantasy XIV #Images #Kinktober 2023 #Links #My Fanfiction #My Post #My Writing #Text Post

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chysgoda · 10 months

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Hold the Gate

( @driftward the magic half of your ask! With another micro story!)

One week ago they had reclaimed Ala Mhigo from the Mad King.

Six days ago he had toasted victory with his brothers and sisters in the Crimson Duelists.

Two days ago Lambert betrayed them all and he was the only one left.

Yesterday the Fourteenth Legion had begun their invasion.

Last night any fighters who had survived the revolution fought in the streets losing their city road by road.

The sun was dawning blood red and last week’s victors were now refugees.

“Get them out! I’ll hold the bastards here!” X’rhun yelled at the monk who was fighting along side him.

The woman nodded and herded their countrymen out of the gate they had pried out of Garlean hands for just this. X’rhun grit his teeth. He was exhausted and nearly run dry of aether. He could not rest yet though. Not with black helmeted troops coming around the corner. Not with the massive demon that walked behind the troops. The legatus walked tall and looked like a voidsent prince come to bleed his city dry.

X’rhun flicked blood off his blade as he threw his arms wide. Deepest black chaos on his left hand, purest white stagnation on his right. He reversed his grip on the hilt and brought his hands together forming a staff of the rapier and focus. At center where life beat red with blood, was the balance. In his mind he drew sigils and arcane geometries and held them in his thoughts as he poured every last drop of aether and to much of himself into the focus. X’rhun braced against the pressure the accelerating aether exerted on him.

He released the spell he’d been holding in. Spidery writing and geometry spread out from his feet. Distantly he felt blood trickle from his nose but ignored it. The spell collapsed around him into pulsing shafts of crimson light. A sweep of X’rhun’s rapier directed the aether towards the Garlean troops. The streaking aether left winding crimson after trails on his vision. He collapsed to his knees and in the moment before columns of blood red aether burned a crater in the street he saw the Black Wolf throw up an arm to protect his eyes.

X’rhun crumpled to the side. His focus rang with a clear mellow tone when it hit the ground. He couldn’t hear those who were escaping anymore. That was good, hopefully. He shook himself and picked up his weapon again. X’rhun looped his fingers through the filigree at the top of his focus, he didn’t have the aether to keep it floating above his hand. If he cast the Scourge once more and kept the bastards back by a few more moments, the others would have a better chance. He would need to burn his life aether to do it this time, but it would by more time. The spell was sluggish and sloppy as he began to form it in his mind. It was not the crisp elegant thing he wished to blind the Garlean’s senses. Still it was what he had to work with.

“Not today Deep Red!” The monk was back and hauled him onto her broad shoulders like a bag annoying green potatoes. The spell in his mind jangled like dropped wind chimes as he lost track of it. His hands went limp but she caught both focus and the rapier before they could hit the ground. Without looking back she turned and ran through the gates.

Injuries old and new, the aether of his life that he’d burned, grief for his fallen home, every nick cut and tear, all demanded their due. As consciousness left him he wanted to laugh out hysterical sobs.

The last two free Ala Mhigans fled the city gates.

#ffxiv #ffxiv fan fiction #red head writes a thing #ask answered #the fall of Ala Mhigo #guest staring Amarantha Stagheart the monk #whom I have never ever mentioned on tumblr before #I was actually taking shots of Art casting Vermillion Scourge when I thought of this #x'rhun tia

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