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burning-thistles-bt · 2 years

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Welcome to the Official Burning Thistles AU Blog!

What is Burning Thistles? Burning Thistles, or it’s extended/original workshop title, Burning Spotted Thistles, is a warrior cats au where Fireheart--and his siblings--are the kits of Spottedpaw/leaf and Thistleclaw. The idea was originally started by @alollinglaughingcat and then expanded and co-written with @firealder2005 to create the fanfiction Burning Thistles on ArchiveOfOurOwn.

Additionally, here is the Wiki for Burning Thistles (currently unfinished)

CONTENT/TRIGGER WARNINGS: PEDOPHILIA, grooming of minors, non-platonic/familial romantic/sexual relationships between minor(s) and adult(s), implied/referenced sexual harassment/assault/non-consensual/rape, lying/cheating, toxic/abusive relationships, family-based manipulation, general manipulation, mental health state deterioration, queerphobia/LGBTQ+phobia, internalized hatred, self-hate (please note that NONE OF THIS is SUPPORTED or intentionally GLORIFIED by us, pedophiliac relationships are WRONG - pro-shippers DNI!)

Information on Us:

@alollinglaughingcat - Call me Lolling! Any pronouns welcome, though she/her is used primarily for me by others. I also created the Genetically Accurate Warrior Cats series, and various other small projects here and there. I fandom hop quite often, so my attention often quickly shifts! My warriors blog is @leafpool-loves-ashfur , my Ao3 user is LollingCat, and my YouTube is LollingCatto!

@firealder2005 - Feel free to call me Alder, much less of a mouthful! I prefer she/her pronouns, and have an additional Warrior cats Time Travel Fix-It series on Ao3. (I also have fanfics for Star Wars and the Trials of Apollo series) My main blog is @firealder2005 , my new-ish warriors sideblog is @firehollyalder and my AO3 is FireAlder2005.

Feel free to send in questions/messages to either of us!

Tags:

#lolling art / #lolling thoughts / #lolling memes / #lolling response / #lolling rb - the content of the post (art, memes, writing, random) was by Lolling

#firealder art / #firealder thoughts / #firealder memes / #alder answer / #firealder rb - the content of the post (art, memes, writing, random) was by FireAlder

#bt memes / #bt charts / #bt polls - the memes, meme-charts and polls of Burning Thistles

#bt fanart / #bt art / #bt references - art for Burning Thistles

#character ask / #asked and answered - posts/art where characters respond to questions from fans, and the ask common tag

#bt what if / #bt mini-shot / #bt snippit / #bt excerpt - posts about how the story could’ve gone, mini one-shots/drabbles, and teasers of chapters

#bt war era / #the countdown / #pack pack kill kill - referring to specific arcs, such as the Dangerous Path book and the dog pack attack

#ft apprentices group / #the apprentices gang - first refers to the Frosted Thistles apprentices (Spottedpaw, Frostpaw, etc.) and second refers to the dog pack era apprentices (Swiftpaw through Bramblepaw)

#ship-attacks - the ship attacks of March 20th, 2023, #ear rip and #berries being the targets and #waterpoppies being mentioned

#featherships / #spottedfrost - the tags for Lolling’s personal favorite ships, the first focusing on Feathercloud’s love life, and the second being between Spottedleaf and Frostfur

#firesand & #sandfire / #copperdawn & #dawncopper / #darkcherry - ship tags for Alder’s favorite BT ships. 1st being Fireheart & Sandstorm, then Copperleaf & Dawncloud, and the last is a ship involving Cherryfur and Darkstripe!

#firefam / #firesiblings / #firefriends - groups that are relating to a) Fireheart’s direct family, b) Fireheart and his siblings, c) Fireheart and his core friend group

#bt songs / #bt ships / #bt animatic / #bt pmv / #bt incorrect quotes / #bt ages / #bt family tree / #bt timeline / #chapter 161 / #pawspeak - miscellaneous organizational tags

#btr / #btr au / #burning thistles reflamed - refers to an AU of BT made by Lolling! A mash-up of “what-if’s” that gets a little angsiter.

One-Shots/Extras - series link

#frosted thistles (Read) / #roaring rivers (Read) / #elder rush (Read) / #hunted lynx (Read) / #ripened cherries (Read - In progress) / #caramel apples (Idea) / #clouded dawn (Idea) / #bitten adder (Rough outline) / #brindled beach (Idea) / #little sparks (Read) / #bubbling bubbles (Idea/Rough outline) / #longing heart (Read)

Character Asks? Currently Closed!

#burning thistles #burning thistles au #burning spotted thistles #information #information post #introduction #introductory post #pinned post #alollinglaughingcat #firealder2005 #warrior cats #warriors #warriors au

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anxious-multishipper · 4 months

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chapter 19 has some solid firesand content and i’m 100% here for it!

#warrior cats #warriors #fire and ice #firesand #firestar #sandstorm

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mallowstep · 2 years

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Favourite Warriors Rarepairs Tag Game

tagged by @foxstride, tagging @kizulu, @creed-of-cats, and @dantelupine (but only if y'all want to <3). and anyone else who wants to can! feel free to tag me.

here's the explanation

Alderheart/Needletail (4) (how is this a rarepair D,:)

Alderheart/Velvet (0) (you GUYS)

Billystorm/Echosong/Leafdapple (1)

Bluefur/Crookedjaw (1)

Brambleclaw/Leafpool (0)

Brambleclaw/Stormfur (2) (y'all talk big game about them so get writing)

Briarlight/Jayfeather (4)

Brindleface/Redtail (8) (i believed this was retconned out of being canon but they're forever sandstorm's parents sorry i DO make the rules)

Cinderheart/Jayfeather (0)

Dovewing/Mossyfoot (1) (it's my fic that's them)

Dustpelt/Sandstorm (3)

Feathertail/Ferncloud (1)

Feathertail/Hawkfrost (0) (talk to ME about df!feathertail TODAY!)

Firestar/Greystripe/Sandstorm (3) (i decided that i'll only be writing firegreysand a few weeks ago. the only firesand content will be legacy, i.e., wips that started before that decision.)

Hawkfrost/Squirrelflight (0)

Ivypool/Tigerheart (0)

Jayfeather/Poppyfrost (5) (y'all i want that number going up you hear?)

Jayfeather/Willowshine (0)

Leopardfur/Mistyfoot (0)

Moonflower/Sunfall (3)

Redtail/Tigerclaw (2)

Shadepelt/Stormfur (1) (once again it me)

<3 please talk to me about any of these <3 i have so many thoughts <3

#mine #foxstride #tag game #i'm not tagging all the ships xd #i have more rarepairs too lmao #some on the list and some off #friend tag

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song-of-the-rune · 2 years

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Copperbell could've been actually fixed, instead they just made all of the bosses more conventional :/ There was nothing wrong with the concepts behind the fights imo, they were just executed poorly.

Ichor: Allow non-negligible damage on the boss with the bombs dealing huge bonus damage. This changes the fight significantly but keeps the bomb mechanic as something to aim for.

That fight that's waves of stuff: spawn faster

The last boss: Make the adds do non-negligible damage to the walls so that you can't ignore them. Some groups can still ignore them, but that's fine! Just make it feel like the mechanic does something.

Also they didn't even fix some of the more annoying aggro resets? like the two rooms on either side of the hall where each has the firesand. Although this one makes sense to me from a design perspective.

Idk maybe it's just my anxiety as a former wow player but to me the removal of content, even though it is replaced by new content, feels iffy.

#ff #ff:xiv

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eorzeanharmony · 5 years

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Mnemon - Memory

Character: Aethelric Firesoul

The sun sat low on the horizon, its dying rays painting the jagged mesas of western Thanalan in fiery oranges and rich violet. The vista was striking, and the solitary figure making its way down one of the myriad dry wadis sunk into the heat-scorched landscape still had it in his heart to appreciate it, however many times he saw it. The desert was harsh and unforgiving; even without its myriad dangers the land itself would devour an unwary traveler like the jackals that stalked its rocky expanse… yet like such predators, it retained a fierce beauty.

It bespoke the traveler’s relaxed frame of mind, though, that he took any time at all to look at the mountains for their glory at sunset. This was no mission of blood and vengeance, but rather of succor. The large satchel slung across Aethelric’s broad, darkly-tanned shoulders contained not weaponry but foodstuffs and first aid supplies, along with a few small luxuries… spices, tea, hard candies. Simple things, but precious, out here in the wastes. The scarred warrior’s yellow gaze also scanned the cliffs looking for the thin thread of smoke that marked his destination… the cooking fires of a small Ala Mhigan encampment tucked into a series of caves up in the foothills. Usually it was visible by now, but the lack of the thin white plume against the cliffside earned a frown and a slight hastening of his steps.

It was dusk by the time he reached the path up to the caves, and as he drew near, he could see the wide entrance of the main camp black against the paler backdrop of the cliff. But it was wrong… where were the fires, the bustle of lank bodies lit by their light, the sounds of song, chatter, and occasional laughter. The cave’s entrance lay dark and still, as devoid of life as it was when the encampment arrived. Years of experience had taught Aethelric the value of caution, however, and rather than charging up the scree toward the cave, he unshouldered his pack and loosened his sword in its sheath before cautiously approaching from an oblique angle amongst the rocks.

His boots moved almost soundlessly over sand and stone, a surety of step learned over two decades in this blasted waste. Once close, he could see the cookfires… or what was left of them. The ones on the periphery were still intact, albeit dark and still, while the ones nearest the entrance were toppled and scattered. As he tried to gain a better look without exposing himself, he found his footing suddenly uneven, the surface he expected to be solid proving soft and yielding… and not anything that a man should find under his boot. Recoiling with a near soundless hiss, he turned his attention downward to the darkness between the boulders… the dying sun now too low to lend much visibility to the hollows between boulders. But what he’d mistaken for dark stone proved to be none other than a body, toppled limp and unmoving in between the rocks. Scarred fingers found no warmth, though now that he’d ceased travel, he found the air already alive with the soft susurration of syrphids…always the first to feast after a battle. Straining against the darkness, and now that he sought them out with forethought, he could now just barely make out the uneven darkness to one side of the path…not just one body, but dozens, simply thrown down the scree hill into a rough pile.

Aethelric turned his gaze back to the mouth of the cave…where, as he squinted into the darkness, a dim light was still visible, deep within. Stifling a low growl, he shifted his position and stalked toward the cave, yet still without rushing, only sliding his scimitar out of its sheath and weighing it silently in his hand.

A moment was spent at the entrance, crouched down by the stones to one side. Within, perhaps twenty fulm down the passage, lay another pile of what were obviously corpses. Unlike those outside, however, these appeared to have been arranged with some care and what looked like a tarp draped over them… catlike, Aethelric stalked over to them to carefully pull back the corner.

What met his wolf’s gaze brought forth a snarl, unbidden and louder than he’d intended… but even he was unable to stifle the rage building in his heart. Every one of the neatly arranged corpses wore a black and red uniform all too familiar to him and one that raised bile in his throat. All of them also looked to have died from sword wounds… which brought him some small, cold comfort. Letting the tarp fall again, he turned and stalked toward the back of the cave and that dim firefly glow. No longer does he skulk from shadow to shadow… this was a march toward an intended goal, and one intended to result in one very clearly defined outcome.

As he reached the main cavern, the first thing the light beyond outlined was the massive, metallic frame of a Garlean Reaper unit. Aethelric had certainly seen such monstrosities in the past, but never this close, and never this inert. The metallic nightmare simply stood with its back to the entrance and the main chassis canted down to presumably allow its driver to disembark; a silent sculpture in iron death. Beyond lay a small camp… apparently cobbled together out of the remains of the residents’ things, a few crates, an Imperial sleeping roll, and… the sickness rose in his soul again… a box containing the precious items the bedroll’s owner had scavenged from the corpses of the fallen Ala Mhigans. On one of the crates, the source of the glow… no honest fire, but some strange light-emitting device. Of the owner, there was no sign. Cursing his luck under his breath, Aethelric leaned down to pick up the box when he heard an ominous click behind him and froze.

“Well well, what have we here. Seems like I missed one…” The voice was gratingly cheerful, the mocking amusement of someone content in the knowledge he holds all the cards. “Most of you grubby bastards fight like demons, for what good it did you. Where were you, hiding behind one of the sorry excuses for trees they have around here and trying not to piss in your armor?”

Gritting his teeth, Aethelric set the box back down again, but as he started to turn, a shot ripped past his ribs so closely he felt the heat of its passage. “Ah ah. Why don’t you just drop that weed chopper you’re holding. We don’t want any…accidents, heh.” With obvious reluctance, Aethelric stuck the point of his scimitar into the sand beside the box and slowly turned around to face his opponent. With the light behind him, the identity of the Garlean man was unmistakeable… and, now that he looked at him, not in the best of condition. His uniform was ragged in places, he’d lost his helm somewhere, and there was a sunken, desperate look in the man’s eyes that he recognized … How long had these men -been- out here? Now that he could see it, the reaper likewise looked in rough shape, its once-glossy black paint now sandblasted and chipped, rust creeping around every joint and gasket.

“… ‘We?’ Aethelric graveled, thinly smiling. “It seems there is only one of you now… the rest gone to sate Rhalgr’s thirst for vengeance, if I am any judge.” Wolf-eyes narrowed, “Even if you kill me… the desert herself will claim you; you cannot eat firesand or steel. Though I suppose you jackals are not above devouring the slain,” he adds, spitting on the bloodstained sand between them. For all his bravado, though…the Ala Mhigan sought desperately for a way out of the deadlock, but…truth was, he was on the wrong end of a Garlean carbine with a desperate man on the other. Silently, in the back of his mind, he offered a prayer…not to the Destroyer, but to Althyk… if there was ever a time where he needed an unexpected new path forward, this would be it. But…as ever… nothing answered him.

“SILENCE!” The carbine in the Garlean’s hands was shaking slightly, for all that this wasn’t particularly comforting to his target. “… Heh. Actually.. I might have a use for you after all. You desert rats know where the water is, don’t you? Eheh..” The ragged edges of his uniform fluttered in a gust of wind from the entrance. Just for a moment, the soldier glanced back over his shoulder, but then whipped his attention back forward again as Aethelric shifted his weight. “HALT! You’ll do as I say! Or you’ll end up like your filthy cousins outside!” What was intended to be a command cracked as it was given… and yet there didn’t seem to be any cause for it that the Ala Mhigan could see. A flicker of motion caught his eye, though, and he glanced up to the top of the silent reaper, just for a moment. There, above the thing’s dormant hulk drifted a small blue ball of light. A plasmid… not uncommon out in the wastes where the desert had claimed a soul or ten. The Garlean didn’t seem aware of it.

Aelthelric turned his attention back to the man, smiling thinly. “You will find nothing out here but your end, and your bones will bleach under Azemya’s unblinking gaze,” he growls quietly. “Your people know only how to take, and the wages of theft are death.” The longer he could keep him talking, the longer he had to contemplate ways to escape his situation. In fact, he was just about to ready another barb, when his attention was drawn back to the reaper again. There were half a dozen lazily swirling lights above it now… more than he’d seen anywhere other than late at night in the lichyard. With effort, he dragged his attention back to the soldier… and stared. Not at him, but past him. Out in the gloom of the desert night hung more small blue lights than he could count, swirling outside the cave’s opening like constellations fallen to earth. Slowly, they drifted into the cave mouth and gathered above the silent magitek machine with an inexorable deliberation. The Garlean mistook his vague shock and confusion for fear and lowered his weapon slightly. “Heh, you lot really are cowards, aren’t you. Not much better than those lizard things… no wonder you like it out in this dusty hell pit so much…” It was almost like the man needed to talk, as if the sound of his voice alone was enough to comfort his obviously frayed nerves. Aethelric ignored him, staring past him and slightly upward.

By now, the cluster of plasmid motes had become a cloud, swirling amongst themselves like a syrphid swarm, until one broke off and sank through the console of the stilled mechanical beast. Then…another, and another… until the last vanished beneath the reaper’s scarred hull. And, for a moment, there was only dark silence.

Then, abruptly, yet still without sound, blue fire erupted between the machine’s armor plates, racing from joint to joint like flame following a miner’s fuse, until every seam and port was limned in blue lichfire. And -still- the rambling soldier remained unaware… until the machine gave a small lurch, accompanied by a screech of corroded steel on steel.

With a small cry, the soldier pivoted immediately, bringing his weapon to bear on whatever new assailant had snuck up behind him, only to see… initially ‘nothing’, until he registered the eerie glow around the towering machine. Both he and his would-be captive watched in equal shock as the thing rose up on its long legs, tongues of luminous blue smoke leaking from every joint, and with another scream of tortured metal, took a step forward, the sound of its footfall like the crash of a coffin lid.

A terrified shriek ripped from the Garlean’s throat as he snapped, bringing up his carbine to spray bullets wildly against his own machine’s armored hull. Aethelric threw himself to the sand, covering his head in order to avoid the ricochets. The bullets from the light arm simply dug shallow scores in the reaper’s plating as it lurched forward another step… it moved like a puppet with broken strings; jerky and uneven yet with a terrifying strangeness to it that belied the simple action of servo and motor, the only noise it made the wailing howl of rusting steel on steel.

It took only bare seconds for the Garlean to empty his magazine, leaving only ringing in the ears from the report to counter the ominous movement of the machine. That and the mindless click-click-click-click-click of the man’s finger on the trigger of his now useless weapon.

And then, with a long, slow screech that echoed loudly in the cavern… a screech that sounded more like screams than simple mechanics should ever do…. the great black beast simply toppled forward like a falling tree and lay still. As it fell, there was a dull, unpleasantly wet crunch, and the abrupt cessation of sound.

Aethelric laid there, face down in the silent sands, for several moments… possibly an eternity, possibly only a handful of seconds, before slowly pushing himself to his feet. The only thing left visible of the soldier under the collapsed machina’s bulk was a hand outstretched, still grasping the carbine. The Ala Mhigan went to go pull it away but then hesitated, glancing back up at the reaper and taking a step backward. Luminous blue smoke still curled from it, but even now it was fading, leaving only a silent black hulk crumpled on the sand. After awhile, he reached out and lightly touched it before quickly withdrawing his hand and going to collect his sword and the box of valuables. He would return them to those families he could track down.

For now, though, he had a pyre to build.

#FFXIV #Aethelric Firesoul #Halloween writing #ghost story #Mateus

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endangered-liaison · 5 years

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Things

Wyda has five different books arrayed in front of her. The one at the centre is the most important, of course, but this one...this one is special. It's old, and valuable, and more precious than she knows how to say.

It also needs to be translated from a language that Wyda is far-from-fluent in.

Wyda mumbles a few words under her breath, trying to wrap her head around Nymian conjugation rules for the seventh or eighth time.

Okay. Wait. That word's Mhach. She knows that one. It's also a slang term for cheap exotic dancers, but, you know. Given the context, she's pretty sure this means Mhach.

There is a soft, soft creak from the upper level of her loft, and she flips through one of her translation books to find something.

Aether, maybe? No. Not aether, this time. Soul. She scribbles down a note in the fifth, empty book - the one she's slowly filling with her handwritten translation.

"Evening, Max."

There's another creak, followed by a ragged sigh from behind her.

"You're no fun."

Wyda pushes her glasses up and shrugs. "I'm plenty of fun. You climbed up the outside of the building again?"

Max saunters in front of Wyda, dropping a revolver on to the desk with a dull metal thud. "Your door was locked," she says.

"And you didn't think to knock?" Wyda glances at the gun, then goes back to work.

Petrify? Wait. Stoneja? Ugh.

Max shrugs and twists the key in the door's lock, letting it swing open. There's a leather trunk waiting on the other side, which she promptly drags into the room.

Wyda gives up on working. Really, she probably should have done that the moment Max entered the room.

"What...is that."

"A trunk. Thought you were smarter than that, yeah?"

Wyda pulls down her glasses, placing them down on top of her Nymian tome and blinking at Max. The ugly, ragged scarring around her eye on clear display. "Did you steal it?" Max looks affronted and does a double-take as she drops the trunk on the floor in front of the desk. "What? No!" She pauses to think about it. "Not recently, anyway."

Sigh.

Wyda looks at the trunk properly. And, sure enough, she can see the jagged M.S. carved into the expensive leather. "What's in it?"

Max clicks the locks and swings the lid open, with an impressive display of dust and dirt kicking into the air. She coughs, waving a hand in front of her face to dissipate a little of it.

Then she pulls a knife from the top of the trunk.

"Things."

Of course.

Wyda really isn't sure why she expected anything else.

Wyda rolls her eye and looks down at her books, at least pretending to be reading something.

"Whatcha workin' on?"

"Things."

"Hah! Nice."

There's a distressing clicking sound, and Wyda looks up. Max has some sort of magitek gizmo in her hand, and she's turning something on it that looks alarmingly like a timer.

As Wyda watches, she twists it back until there's a gentle ping noise from within it. Then she scowls. Shakes it a little. Taps the front casing.

Throws it over her shoulder.

"Where...where did you get this?" Wyda decides to ask. "The case, I mean. The contents you probably found in many places. The case as it is now, full of stuff. Not wherever you first stole it from."

It's important to clarify these things. It is Max, after all.

"Oh, nice, thought I'd left this behind." Max shrugs, lifting out a shirt that was probably once white and has at least four holes in it. "From my bolthole."

"Your bolthole?"

Max looks at her like one might look at a particularly slow oxen. "My bolthole. Y'know. Every half-decent smuggler's got one."

Wyda frowns. "I never had one."

"Like I said. Every half-decent smuggler." Max pulls out a shortsword, sliding the scabbard off and pressing her thumb against the blade to test it.

"Rude."

Max's thumb slips, and she hisses in pain. Brings her thumb to her mouth to suck on it, staining her bottom lip with bright red as she misses initially.

"First thing I did," she says, pulling her thumb away and shaking it in the air, mouthing the word ow to herself. "After Hostis paid me? Got myself this trunk, and started filling it with the shite I didn't need all the time. Everything I'd need in an emergency. Then I found somewhere t'keep it."

Huh. That...makes a lot of sense. Wyda's annoyed she never heard about this rule.

"I had nice stuff at the safehouses. But they ain't so safe for me now. So, bolthole. Supplies." She pulls out a bag and sniffs it. Wyda can smell the vague scent of firesand from here.

Alarming godsdamned woman.

"Okay." Wyda nods. "That all makes sense. But why, pray tell, did you bring it to my room?"

Max pauses. Shrugs. "Didn't want to get my flat's rug all dirty."

Of course. Of. Course.

Wyda groans leans back in her chair, looking to the ceiling. Halone give her strength.

That's arguably worse, because she can hear the sounds of Max sorting through her worldly possessions, but she can't see any of it. Why is there an electrical buzzing noise? Why are there chains? Why does she sound so worryingly happy when she says "Oh, I've been lookin' for you."

Wyda looks up at that last one. Max has a toothbrush in one hand and a wooden sculpture of a magitek reaper in the other.

What the fuck. Really, what the fuck?

Blood drips down Max's hand and on to the off-white shirt she'd found earlier, and Wyda rolls her eye. "Come here."

Max's spine tenses, and she points the toothbrush at Wyda threateningly. "Fuck off."

"You're bleeding on your things. Come here."

Max sighs, a ragged, broken sound, but puts her sculpture and her toothbrush down, climbing to her feet to walk to the desk.

She holds her hand out, looking intensely bored.

Wyda reaches forwards with both hands. She places one hand on Max's wrist, by her pulse point, and the other rests over Max's fingers. Max's energy fights against everything. Even healing. It's difficult, to latch on to that.

"That revolver," Wyda asks, softly. "Vicky has one just like it."

Max's eyes glance down to the revolver on the desk. "Yeah. S'for Imperial marksmen. We ain't always given the sort of close combat training the rank-and-file get, so...s'for close encounters. Emergencies. That sorta thing."

"And you were a marksman?"

Max grumbles. "Not always. Worked as a sapper t'start, when Vic was there. After she fucked off and left, I took squad leader. Dec. No room for me runnin' off alone like that, so, marksman it was. Vic was always the best shot in the squad." She pauses. "Tell her I said that and I'll burn your books."

She listens for Max's heartbeat instead of her threats, finding the rhythm and the ebb and flow of her aether to latch on to. There. She catches it. There's a faint, gentle glow from Wyda's hands, and a moment later, Max pulls her hand away to look at the healed, off-pink cut on her thumb.

"Couldn't even fix that up properly?" Max pokes at the pink skin in annoyance. "Damn, no wonder Vic looks like impressionist art."

"The skin will fade to your usual tone in a day or two. No scars." Wyda smirks, slowly. "If you'd like, I could always try kissing it better."

"Fuck off," Max says, cheeks pinkening the tiniest amount.

She turns away, climbing back over her trunk and picking out what looks suspiciously like a homemade flamethrower.

Wyda looks down at her books, trying to wrap her head around Nymian conjugation rules for the eighth or ninth time.

And life continues.

#ffxiv #ffxiv RP #Hyrtwyda Eyhafrynwyn #Max Sawyer #Wyda

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skysteelsun · 7 years

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I wrote one once I think so like five times kissed o uo

Send "Five Times ______ed" for a Drabble of 5 different times our characters... did that.

1.The world had ceased to exist; all that remained was the clean, warm straw beneath them, Haurchefant’s breath warm on his lips, bits of straw in Haurchefant’s hair, and the too-hard pounding of their hearts. Stephanivien’s lips still tingled from the unexpected kiss, and his thoughts were a tangle; should he pull away? Should he - he should say something, he needed to ask, needed to know why. Needed to know if there would be more.Needed to know if he wanted more.But when he licked his lips to prepare to speak, his tongue grazed Haurchefant’s lips, and then the world slipped away once more - and again, and again, and...2. Stephanivien touched Haurchefant’s bandaged arm carefully, almost reverently, uncertain of what to say now that they were finally alone. What was there to say that hadn’t already been said by every other member of House Haillenarte? Haurchefant was a hero, little Francel’s savior. A knighthood was all but assured, hard-won through blood and ferocity.Will you still want me when all of Ishgard knows you for a hero? But that was pettiness, uncalled for and unlike him; Stephanivien swallowed it, glancing up at last from the wounded arm when at last he could trust himself to smile.“I could not be prouder, my heart.” He released Haurchefant’s arm, stepping into the circle of his arms instead, and silencing his own unneeded misgivings with a congratulatory kiss that certainly didn’t feel as though Haurchefant - hero or no - had any intention of surrendering what they had....Even if he did glance around to be entirely certain no one was looking.3.He would never grow weary of waking like this, while Haurchefant still slept: with the moonlight painting his lover in pale light, setting him to glowing - it felt to Stephanivien as though he’d been given a gift of some kind, rare and beautiful. And not least of all was the gift of time, for waking like this, now, meant he had bells yet before he needed to slip away through Haurchefant’s window, lest he be caught here (many things could be innocently explained, but the presence of the Haillenarte heir naked in the Fortemps bastard’s bed was not among them).He shifted, propping himself up on one arm beside his sleeping lover: he was not a poetic man, no, but he was certain there was poetry in the way Haurchefant’s eyelashes fluttered while he dreamed, in the way the moonlight silvered his lips...Lips Stephanivien found entirely irresistible all of a sudden; he leaned down, and roused Haurchefant with a gentle, coaxing kiss. 4. The wards had fallen; how had the wards fallen? The attack on Ishgard had been brutal and unexpected; Stephanivien merely gave all his thanks to Halone that the manufactory had been blessedly untouched by dragonfire. He was utterly unprepared for Haurchefant to arrive as they were taking stock of the firesand and munitions used during the assault on Ishgard’s walls......but perfectly content to be tugged unceremoniously into a familiar unused storage closet and kissed hard, with Haurchefant’s back against the wall and his arms tight around Stephanivien’s waist and back. I feared I could lose you, was the unspoken confession, but all Haurchefant could manage was occasional gasps of “I cannot stay long” and “I must go.”“I was never in any danger, my heart,” Stephanivien said - lied - as he nipped playfully at Haurchefant’s ear, knowing he needed to hear it.“I cannot stay...” Haurchefant gasped, staying.5.‘Twas an ordinary day - Stephanivien scarcely glanced up when the manufactory doors swung open, only taking a second look when his mind registered the new arrival as Haurchefant, striding toward him with purpose. Purpose... and something wild in his eyes, something fierce. Stephanivien opened his mouth to ask after it -And found his lips claimed, just like that, right in the center of the manufactory.There were people here; ‘twas hardly an empty room - nay, and there was no way to pretend this was anything but a lovers’ kiss, no way to hide it, no way to feign ignorance. Stephanivien’s arms slid around Haurchefant, holding him securely, unwilling to let him escape once this was done.If he wished to escape once this was done. Stephanivien’s embrace tightened.Please do not wish to escape once this is done. Please. Let this be the way of things now, my heart.

#s: apricity #//long post #haurchefantgreystone

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