#reader could be seen as a WOL from FFXIV

[vodika-vibes]

The Joys of Dating a Chosen One

Summary: Your sweet Captain comes to a sudden realization, and it makes him love you all the more.

Pairing: Captain Keeli x Reader

Word Count: 1195

Warnings: Suggestive at the End

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni

A/N: I love FFXIV, I've beaten the main story...uh...three times now? Almost four times, so anyway. I was playing that and having thoughts about Keeli (I love him, I blame @the-bad-batch-baroness) and they sort of merged together into this AU.

Divider by Saradika

“On the day when the sun and the moon-”

“Babe!” Keeli lowers his datapad and shoots you a frustrated look, “Babe, I love you, but if you make another prophecy and drag us into another life or death, divine calling, fiasco, I’m breaking up with you.”

You turn so that you’re sitting on your knees on the chair, and you sling your arms over the back, “No, you won’t.” You say smugly.

Keeli sighs and drops his head back against the couch, “No.” He agrees, “I won’t, but I will bitch about it. I was not trained to kill god. Either capital G or lower case G.”

“But you did such a good job last time!” You say with a laugh.

“Babe.”

You laugh outright, and hop out of your chair and drop on the couch next to him. You tuck your head under his chin, and he sighs and wraps his arms around you, his fingers immediately moving to the scars that line your body. Scars he knows as well as his own. You smile up at him adoringly, “I love you.”

He brushes his thumb across your lower lip, and then he ducks his head and kisses you quickly, “I love you too. But I do wish you had told me that you were the galaxy’s punching bag before we started dating.”

“Oh, but then you might have said no.” You tease as you shift so that you’re straddling his lap.

“Nah, I would have still said yes. But I would have thought about it for, like, 30 seconds.” Keeli replies with a grin as he sets his datapad to the side and grips your hips to tug you so you’re flush against him.

“Really?” You ask, disbelievingly.

“I don’t think you quite understand how insanely attractive you are.” Keeli replies with a wide grin.

You press your hands against his cheeks, “The day before I asked you out, I literally killed a Death God who was trying to destroy a planet. Asking you out was much scarier.”

“Hm…Captain Keeli, more intimidating than a Death God.” He muses thoughtfully.

You laugh and kiss him, “Not like that. People skills aren’t exactly my strong suit, lover boy.”

“I have no complaints about any of your skills, cyar’ika.” He purrs.

“You’re a pervert.”

He shrugs one shoulder with a wide grin crossing his handsome face, “Only for you.” He says as his hands slide a little lower to rest on your thighs. 

You giggle and kiss the tip of his nose, and aren’t the least bit surprised when he tilts his head back to catch your lips with his own.

Keeli kisses like he does everything else in his life. Carefully, methodically. His kisses steal the breath from your very lungs and replace it with himself. He kisses you like he needs you like air, and you love it about him. 

He breaks the kiss, and you’re breathless and hazy eyed, and he grins at you. “My sweet cyar’ika,” Keeli coos, “You always react so nicely when I kiss you like that.”

You flash a dreamy smile, “You kiss me like you need me.”

“Fair, because I do need you.” Keeli murmurs, “All of the time, at every moment.” He slides one of his hands up your spine and he presses his hand against your cheek. “I wouldn’t be here, if not for you.”

You blink at him, surprised. “Keeli, you’re an excellent soldier-”

“Shh…let me talk.” Keeli murmurs.

You sigh and lean in to press your forehead against his, your eyes closing as his thumb starts rubbing soothing circles on your cheek.

“I was on Ryloth. And me and my men, as well as our general, decided to stay back, to protect the civilians from being gunned down.” His voice was low, gentle, as if he’s not talking about an event that should have killed him, “It was only a matter of time before we were run over-”

He moves and presses a light kiss against your lips, and then drags his lips across to your cheek, and down to your jaw.

“I should have died there. I was supposed to die there. And yet I didn’t.”

You hands have a distinct waver to them as you press them against his shoulders, “You got lucky…or your jedi-”

“You were there, weren’t you?”

You duck your head, “There’s no proof-”

“Cyare,” His voice is so gentle that you aren’t even able to finish the sentence.

“I was on Ryloth for something else, something that I had to do.” You admit, your voice very quiet. “I wasn’t supposed to get involved. The war…it’s not my problem. Or, it wasn’t.” You slide one hand down to rest over his heart, “But I was there, and I saw what was about to happen, and I couldn’t just walk away…so I got involved. I…removed…a portion of the opposing army, not all of them, but enough that you and your brothers would live.”

“And I appreciate it,” Keeli murmurs, “I just don’t understand why.”

You’re quiet for a long moment, trying to gather your thoughts, “When this whole thing began, I was just a wanderer.” You admit slowly, “I wanted to help people, all people. But then my adventures started getting bigger and bigger, and before I knew it I was fighting gods and demons and coming out the other side hurt, but alive. And I just…I just couldn’t leave you all to die. Not when I could do something about it.”

“Thank you,” Keeli whispered.

“You’re welcome.” You reply with a small smile, “but, um, I didn’t know that you were one of the men I’d saved until…well…just now, actually.”

He grins and bumps his nose against yours, “So, us being together is just fate then.”

“Fuck Fate.” You whisper, “I make my own choices.” You kiss him deeply, and he groans into the kiss, his hand sliding up under the hem of your shirt to allow his fingers to dance against the scarred skin of your stomach.

“Have I ever mentioned,” Keeli mumbles against your lips, “how incredibly, insanely, attractive I find you? And that I love you more than anything in this galaxy?”

“You’ve mentioned it once or twice,” You reply.

“Not nearly enough.” He stands suddenly, and you fling your arms around his neck to stabilize yourself, “I’ll just have to show you, won’t I?”

Your face burns with sudden embarrassment when you notice the way he’s looking at you.

And he laughs as he turns to carry you into your bedroom, “And then, my perfect, wonderful cyare, you can tell me all about this next god we have to kill.”

You release a breathless laugh, “I thought you weren’t interested?”

“I changed my mind.” Keeli replies as he drops you on the bed, and then peels his shirt off, “After all, watching you kill a god is probably the hottest thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”

You blink at him, “Hotter than-?”

“Yes.”

“Even when I-?”

“Even then.”

“...huh.”

He grins at you, “Any more questions?”

“Nope.” You reach out your arms to him, “I love you.”

Keeli’s grin widens, “I love you too.”

#star wars #tcw #captain keeli x reader #keeli x reader #star wars fanfiction #x reader fanfiction #reader could be seen as a WOL from FFXIV #or just some poor unlucky adventurer who's the galaxy's punching bag

[pinkanonwrites]

Seeing that you are familiar with FFXIV. Maybe we could have the Twst Housewardens react to a WOL-MC? Since this is a magic school maybe how would they react to some of the Caster classes if you can. If that's not possible then then ignore the classes react part

No problemo! I ended up going with Summoner because that's the caster class I know the most about (the most being literally any, I'm a filthy melee DPS main and doing other stuff is scary). This also ended up being not really shippy, I hope that's okay.

GN! Reader

You have to be, without a doubt, the most skilled mage Riddle has ever seen in his lifetime. And ooh does that drive him up the wall. You can cast magic willy-nilly, without even a second thought about blot as you summon your strange little creatures to do your bidding? And just what exactly is a "Mothercrystal?" Sometimes it feels to him like you're speaking a foreign language, with all your talk of primals and egi and things and places his well-read brain has never even heard of before. At the very least he can rest safe in the knowledge that you're rarely, if ever, using these tremendous powers to get into major trouble.

You kind of creep him out a bit to be honest. Not like you actually scare him or anything, he just thinks it's weird how gung-ho you are about solving everybody's little problems. Skipping all over campus with your freaky, floating little monsters in tow, with way too much energy for someone who's just been sucked into a new dimension from their own. For the most part he does his best to steer clear of you, as he learned from the first few times he asked you to run an errand for him instead of Ruggie that you'll soon come knocking on his door asking for some sort of favor in return. Leona isn't a favors kind of guy, so it's easier for him to just avoid you.

As per usual, the first thought to cross Azul's mind is "How can I monetize this?" But what Azul will soon discover is that it doesn't matter what sort of obstacle, fetch-quest, or impossible puzzle he can throw at you in a contractually obligated agreement to try and swipe your powers, because somehow, by the grace of a goddess from a literal other dimension, you're able to blast past them all with ease. You make him want to absolutely tear his hair out at every turn, and there's next to nothing he can do about it.

Finally, someone who appreciates what the Warrior of Light has to bring to the table. Kalim is like your own personal cheerleader, he's utterly amazed by everything you can do and are capable of. His favorite pastime is sitting cross-legged on the floor with you in the Scarabia lounge area, carbuncle sleeping in his lap, as he fires off question after question about all the things you've done and seen in your homeworld. When you tell him that this isn't even the first time you've dimension-hopped before, that's when he's certain you've got to be the coolest, most magical mage he's ever gotten to meet.

For the most part, Vil seems to be pretty indifferent to you. He acknowledges that you have some very spectacular skills in magic and summoning, even more so than the most adept students at the academy, but Vil isn't the type to grovel or lower himself to try and gain the friendship of people in power. So if you seem to have no interest in him, he will have little in you. If your glamours transfer over to Twisted Wonderland however? That is a completely different story. He can't help but be curious about your magicked-in fashion, your strange armors and elegant robes of fine design. Tataru would be flattered by all Vil has to say about her excellent craftsmanship.

Nope nope nope nope nope. Idia knows a protagonist when he sees one, and you are a cookie-cutter protagonist by every sense of the word. And the last thing he wants to do is end up as another lame background NPC in someone else's hero's journey. Try as he might though, he can't keep the complete distance he wants because Ortho thinks you're so damn cool. So friendly too! He keeps trying to meddle and get you to meet his older brother and it's starting to give Idia some serious anxiety-shakes. The only thing he's interested in is your carbuncle. A little glowing fox-kitty that you can summon to snuggle at any moment's notice? Sign him up for that!

You fascinate Malleus in a way that he didn't even know he could still be fascinated anymore. For the first time in his life he's meeting someone who might generally outrank him in every sense of power... and he kind of loves it? You're so odd, so overwhelmingly powerful yet so eager to lower yourself to help in even the smallest and most insignificant of circumstances. He's never met someone as humble as you are in his life before, and it's delightfully refreshing. He has plenty to ask about the world from which you hail, and is willing to offer plenty in return, fully safe in the belief that you are the type of person to never, ever try and turn it against him. You are far too virtuous for something like that.

#disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland imagines #twst #disney twst #twst x reader #twst imagines #riddle rosehearts #leona kingscholar #azul ashengrotto #kalim al asim #vil schoenheit #idia shroud #malleus draconia #riddle rosehearts x reader #leona kingscholar x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #kalim al asim x reader #vil schoenheit x reader #idia shroud x reader #malleus draconia x reader #riddle rosehearts imagines #leona kingscholar imagines #azul ashengrotto imagines #kalim al asim imagines #vil schoenheit imagines #idia shroud imagines #malleus draconia imagines #my writing

[eorziapple]

FFXIV Write 2023 Prompt 19: Weal

(Character: Apple Silverberg, Setting: WoL Apple, Sprout Safe)

"I am often asked what drove me to do the things i've done. I dont much care for the public space so i've spurned all notions of fame from my future. There have been so many times I've doubted myself, experienced both physical and mental pain. I've seen friends die when I could have saved them, their smiles haunt me at times.

Sometimes I am an inconvenience to my homeland, i've made enemies everywhere i've traveled. Many consider me a monster, and they are not incorrect in feeling so.

It's been a long, difficult, horrific road to walk.

But there are the little joys. The kid saved from monster on the path, living their life, growing up as you return time and again. There's the relief on my comrades faces when the danger is over, and we can finally breath again. There's the laughter of a shared journey, the wonders of experiences new, the change you had a part in making expressing itself over time.

A shared meal with a loved one. Heartfelt confessions expressed in times of strife, the sheer wonder of discovery.

There is so much suffering in the world, but just a little bit of joy can make the weary traveler ease their burdens.

My advice to you, dear reader? Pave your path in life with love, and you can walk as far as you need to."

#apple silverberg #ffxiv write 2023 #memoirs of a Warrior of Light

[autumnslance]

Good thread here, especially that second post, and something I've noticed in some folks reactions to FFXIV but particularly Shadowbringers and into Endwalker. It's not about how your character reacts to or feels about things, it's stepping back and figuring out the story from a more objective player/viewer/reader perspective when looking to analyze lore and narrative elements, plot, NPCs, etc.

Is there a bit more assumption about the WoL's actions/reactions in 5.0 and 6.0 than in previous expacs? I honestly don't think so, I just think it's more obvious, with more opportunities to give the WoL a set number of dialogue options, or better ability to animate the WoL in cutscenes as well as other NPCs, as previously the complaint was the WoL standing in dramatic situations mute and glassy-eyed. The story and characters have always been on rails because it's still an MMO, not a single player RPG where we could have branching options and defined endings.

It's one reason I play through as Dark first and don't really think about MSQ from an IC perspective overmuch; I'm reacting as me, not my OCs. On Aeryn's play through the second time is where I really start to think about her story and reactions. I try to keep it out of my own lore write ups and critiques, too, unless specifically asked, or take a specific point in my post to say "in my WoL's case" depending on how the topic does or doesn't fit (and if the point was noodling out how a plot point could or couldn't be arranged to work for her, or already fits well or not at all).

It's especially interesting I think with Endwalker, given how many folks I know went "this part of the expac feels written for me" as so many varied topics were hit to appeal to such a large and diverse fanbase at a universal/fundamental level as the long story was wrapped up.

But having literally seen people go "I didn't like the final fight cuz it doesn't fit my OC to do that" (or other parts of the expac) my immediate reaction was "well it isn't written just for your specific OC only." We're playing pretend in someone else's sandbox and bending the rules on where that sand goes and what we can do with that, but by necessity it has its limits and a defined narrative for us to work with.

#Final Fantasy XIV #criticism #literary analysis #MSQ #characters #narrative

[bjy-on-ao3]

Fic Friday: Respite

(As usual, you can find the AO3 version of all my uploads [and some things I don’t post here to tumblr] via my Masterlist blog page.)

Been playing a lot of FFXIV lately, so of course all the handsome men from it are taking up space in my head. I’ve written for a couple before in short form for Kinktober, but this is my first official one-shot for anything FFXIV. Took a good deal of cutscene study to pick up proper word usage/speech patterns, but I also got to listen to Aymeric, so that’s a plus.

Summary The Warrior of Light looks forward to some relaxation of sorts with their favorite denizen of Ishgard upon returning from an adventure.

Tags/Warnings Consensual Sex, Creampie, Established Relationship, Reader-Insert, Shameless Smut, Teasing, Vaginal Sex

Respite (F! WoL Reader/Aymeric de Borel)

Upon returning from yet another duty - the list of tasks both mundane and daunting assigned to you seemed insurmountable sometimes  - you were looking forward to the hospitality oft afforded you in Ishgard. Hospitality likely borne from all the aid you had lent them and your standings with many prominent figures of Ishgardian society, but hospitality nonetheless. Of course, there was a particular hospitality you were most greatly anticipating, and it was that which you would tend to first.

You began by asking some of the stationed soldiers if the Lord Aymeric was in. Several of them had no clue, leaving you increasingly frustrated. Eventually though, you came across a man who could confirm that, yes, the Lord Commander had recently returned from some business and instructed you where you might find him.

So off you set, with a renewed spring in your step and a trembling anticipation that was a struggle to contain. It was obvious even to simple passersby how much more your mood had changed compared to when you had initially returned to the city, particularly brighter than after questioning the previous soldiers. Excitement overflowing or not, you tried to contain yourself, managing to not break out into a sprint through the stone cobbled streets and alarm the city folk.

At last, you pushed open the last doors you expected to separate you and your reunion with the Lord Commander. The sight of the man in all his armored elegance greeted you immediately, and you tried to the stifle a grin. For a split second, Aymeric de Borel remained unaware of your presence, engaged in conversation with an Ishgardian official you didn't recognize off the top of your head.

The sound of the doors and your boots on the ground though drew the attention of both elezen swiftly, however, and they glanced towards the interruption. You noticed a nearly imperceptible flicker in Aymeric's stunningly blue eyes as he saw who had arrived. But he was practiced in self-restraint, too, and the shift in his eyes had been all that spoke of his truest emotions. The smile that curled his lips, while pleasant, held the warmth acceptable of the standard pleasantries expected of him.

"Have I come at a bad time? I can return later, if must needs be," you said tentatively.

You knew Aymeric would be loath to turn you away - he hadn't seen you in several weeks thanks to various business that preoccupied either of you. Though you knew he took his responsibilities seriously, and you also didn't want to interrupt anything important.

Aymeric shook his head gently. "We were nearly done. You needn't go," Aymeric informed you, turning back to the other man. "Pray, keep me informed. I look forward to word of progress in the near future," he said with a respectful bow of his head.

With an agreeing nod and a few more words you didn’t bother to try to catch, the other man turned to take his leave. You moved aside courteously so as not to bar his way, and the pair of you exchanged cursory passing pleasantries. Then he was gone, leaving only you and Aymeric in the chamber.

Once Aymeric was certain you were alone, the initial spark of excitement you had spied in his eyes grew many fold, the blue tumultuous as stormy seas in his mirth. You hadn't doubted for a single ilm Aymeric would be happy to see you, but seeing the warmth and sparkle in his eyes was always reassuring. "I've news for you of my latest task," you started, tone level and business-like. A flash of disappointment darted across Aymeric's face at the prospect you had dropped by merely for the sake of business alone, as often the case unfortunately was.

"Though I find myself rather...tired from the trip. Would my Lord allow me a brief respite before my report?" you inquired, tone growing more coy. It was a bald-faced lie that you were tired, laced with an underlying subtle hint. A hint you doubted would go over Aymeric's head.

"Ah, of course. Come, come, allow me to escort you somewhere you might lie down for a time," he responded with a gentle sweep of one hand, moving closer to you. He lay a hand over your shoulder, as if to guide you in the right direction.

In the public eye, Aymeric might not even have laid that same light hand on you, appearances mattering as they did. You had shared many a more-than-pleasant private moment, yet still it seemed imperative that what you shared remained hidden from the rest of the world. And as much as a part of you would have loved to declare your affections for Aymeric to the very streets of Ishgard and all who might listen, you didn't mind keeping things quiet.

You fell in step with Aymeric, or as much as you could with his long strides, the featherlight touch on your shoulder settling just a bit heavier, slender fingers splaying more relaxed over you. As you went, you made a quip here or there, telling snippets of a story from one of your more fun adventures, knowing how well Aymeric enjoyed them. True be told, you did actually have business that required reporting at some point, but it wasn't urgent, so it could wait.

Several minutes whiled away as you spoke, taking in the subtle smile on Aymeric's lips that made your own grow with each moment and getting lost in the man before you, as you were wont to do in his presence. You came to another set of solid wooden doors and paused. Aymeric, gentleman as he was, quickly pushed them open before you, with a slight 'after you' motion. You took the invitation, walking into the room, certain to put a sway in your step, knowing he would watch all the way.

Following, Aymeric sealed the doors behind you, turning locks into place and double-checking they were secure. Too many close calls and interruptions had made the both of you wary of ensuring doors were actually locked. If an emergency occurred, they could very well tell either of you through the door - without catching you in a compromising position.

Satisfied the locks were secured tight, he turned to you, and the sparkling cheer in his vivid blue eyes darkened, pleasant still, but intense and a more raw. You made no move towards Aymeric, acting as if the act of fussing with various straps and buckles of your gear was far more interesting. Or mostly, at least. Aymeric seemed entertained enough watching you make slow progress, though wasn’t content only to watch for long.

"Might I lend a hand?" he asked, making his way toward you again. You huffed exaggeratedly and feigned ignoring the Lord Commander further. "Though perhaps you would rather struggle and do away with what little time we possess," he ribbed in a playful voice.

Arriving by your side, he didn't wait for your permission before he set to work assisting you, holding bits of leather or cloth or metal in place to make removing them easier or making quick work of various buckles and ties. With Aymeric's help it wasn't long before you were standing in the room - which you observed was a warmly decorated room appearing to be one of the more affluent guest rooms - hidden scarcely by your small clothes.

Aymeric didn't follow suit at first, instead reaching out toward you, while you, too, pressed yourself in closer, now free of your restrictive adventuring gear. Large hands spread across your back and over your rear, pulling you flush. The touch of his ornate armor plates here and there was cold, as if they had trapped the frigid air from outside, and you couldn't help but shudder. You quickly brushed off the sensation, in favor of leaning into Aymeric's embrace until your face hovered next to his.

There was a moment that internally went on forever until your lips met, in a way far more eager and passionate than before. It had been some time since you met the Lord Commander for a private moment, and all the pent-up desire came pouring out as soon as his fingers brushed over your skin and small clothes. Aymeric, too, seemed eager, but showed more restraint all the same. Sometimes his restraint was admirable, and you were jealous, though other times you wished, nay, longed for him to throw his restraint to the winds.

As you kissed, beginning mostly closed but fervent and a bit messy, Aymeric's hands stroked in light lines and circles over the skin and cloth they rested on, making you squirm impatiently. You grabbed handfuls of the cloth of his armor and tugged lightly, as if to convey your frustration at how he was still dressed head-to-toe.

A smile twisted your kiss, and he took the lead to deepen it, distracting your grasping hands. He relished your impatience and enthusiasm, even if he more oft than not didn't give into it immediately, even when your time together was fleeting. But it was always worth it in the end.

In an ardent rush of motion, you were suddenly beside the bed, with Aymeric urging you down to the sheets. He followed you down, though didn't immediately join you on the bed. You whined plaintively when he separated from the kiss and took a step back from the bedside, taking his warm touch with him. Your noise of complaint was silenced effectively though as he worked through discarding his own armor.

After a process that took far too long in your eyes and asked too much of your patience - or lack thereof - Aymeric had stripped away the pauldrons and plates and cloth, carefully setting it all aside. Left only in his own small clothes, through which you could easily see his arousal strain, he at last joined you on the sheets. You moved up and back until you lay more securely on the sheets. Meeting you at the head of the bed, Aymeric pressed himself over top of you, his lips crashing back to yours.

In that moment Aymeric's admirable restraint frayed somewhat, as if he had shucked it off along with his armor. His lips pushed against yours more fervidly, his tongue trailing your lips and slipping between them when given the chance. You groaned, more than pleased to meet him in a twisting, passionate dance. Strong hands clasped you by the wrists when you moved to wrap your arms around him and you whined again.

When Aymeric broke the kiss again, it was to tip his head up and laugh gently, a warm, soft sound that made you shiver and rub your thighs together. "My, what troubles you, my love?" he asked, pretending an innocence that was ruined by the low, sultry timbre of his voice.

Half-lidded eyes stared down at you with a burning, affectionate intensity you had seen before. Even before you had come together, you had caught glimpses of it in Aymeric's eyes, mistaking it at first for only the admiration between friends and warriors-at-arms. But you could see it now for what it truly was. Between it and the desire making Aymeric's eyes dark and stormy, your breath nearly caught in your throat. But you shook off the awed stupor, focus returning to Aymeric's question.

Your lips curled into a pout before you spoke. "However can I touch you like this?" you complained, pushing against his unyielding grasp as if to emphasize your words.

Another amused, rich laugh met your question. "Ah, but you well know how your touch affects me," Aymeric rumbled. He dipped down until his lips ghosted the shell of your ear. "Pray, grant me some dignity, won't you, my dearest?"

You shivered again, snaring your lower lip between your teeth and biting down as if it might quiet the heat and pulse growing in your underwear. You freed it quickly when the hot touch of his tongue curled over your ear, followed by a coy nip on the lobe that made you gasp.

"Aa-alright, fine," you groaned out, bowing up unbidden into his body still pressed snugly to yours.

Your fingers flexed greedily, itching to break free and and draw your nails along his shoulders and back, or tug his lips back to yours to entangle you both in another mind-numbing kiss. But you yielded, making no attempt to escape his hold, and his grip shifted. Gathering both of your wrists in one large hand, the other was left to trail down your skin. A light touch dancing down your jaw, your neck, your collarbone, before pausing at the top of your small clothes.

Pulling the fabric down to free your chest, he set to massaging each breast in slow, almost lazy motions, lingering to brush a teasing thumb over steadily standing nipples. You groaned his name softly, closing your eyes and basking in the sensation, letting your head fall back against the pillows and arching up into him once more. You whimpered when he pushed back, letting you feel each hot, hard inch of his body, the most intimidate parts of you hid away by scant scraps of thin fabric.

Your eyes had fluttered shut without meaning to, so keen you were on relishing the feeling. When they fluttered back open and you met his gaze, another roiling wave of desire hit you square in the gut. There was something more intent, sharp, primal, smoldering in the desire-deepened irises and wide blown pupils as he watched you lose yourself in the pleasure he provided. You swallowed hard, stifling another pleasured coo, and a mischief of sorts flashed through the swirl of emotions in Aymeric's expression.

His hand on your chest slowed until it was toying with each nipple frustratingly lightly, alternating between the two. You squirmed and whined, craving the more thorough touch from before. Aymeric's new touch was pleasant, but the bare brushes and strokes made you feel  strangely over sensitive. You struggled reflexively against his grip again, not really trying to break free, whining his name in that same plaintive tone from before.

"Aymeric, was it not you who stated how short our time together is?" you tried to reason, knowing it was a wasted effort.

"Mm, it was, and I am enjoying such precious time to the utmost," he assured you. "Do you not share that sentiment, my dearest?" Aymeric added, as if daring you to speak otherwise.

Your face, already hot, flushed furiously further, equal parts flustered and frustrated from the game Aymeric was playing. He didn't enjoy teasing you quite so much, no, not so much as he enjoyed hearing how much you needed him in plain words. So he persuaded you to beg or demand of him what you wanted.

"Aymeric..." your tone was mock warning, serious but breathy, trying to deflect him half-heartedly, and hoping he would give you what he knew you wanted, but he wouldn't be so easily dissuaded.

He bent forward, continuing to teasingly massage your breasts, mouthing at the soft flesh of your throat and shoulders. "Tell me then what more you would ask of me?" he urged you. His teeth scraped against the column of your throat, and you groaned again.

By then, you were a ruin, skin abuzz with heat and desire and his fleeting touch. Your underwear felt damp and sticky, your arousal soaking it through, leaving an obvious wet spot on the cloth. Each little push sent you tumbling further and further, grinding down your resolve until you gave in at last.

"Pray, cease toying with me," you began to beg. "Fill me; I need to feel you inside of me, now. Nothing else will do," you finished, almost surprised at how thick the desire had made your voice. You tried to turn your head to reach Aymeric, to convince him more with what few kisses you could leave across his cheek and jaw despite being held down otherwise.You wriggled and ground your core against his needily, as if to prove your point. "Please, please."

"Who am to I deny you when you ask in a voice so divine?" Aymeric answered in a husky hush.

He released your wrists, though shot you a pinning stare that made you think twice about moving from your prostrate position. You settled for watching him sit up and move down your body, hooking his fingers beneath your underwear and dragging them down. You assisted as much as you could, and he discarded them to the side of the bed. Before removing his own underwear, he paused, dark eyes focusing on your newly revealed cunt, dripping and slick and inviting.

He drew one long finger up and down your slit until the digit was coated in your fluids. He withdrew it, raising it to his lips and somehow making a show of licking it clean seem refined. A deep, pleased hum rolled through him, and Aymeric turned to rid himself of the last article of clothing keeping him from you.

Just as your sopping cunt had drawn Aymeric's gaze, the sight of his erection, thick and hot and hard, crowned by a fat pearl of pre-cum. drew your attention. You licked your lips in anticipation, resisting with all you had to remain still and not sit up and reach for his cock. You wore that eagerness on your face readily, though, and another pleased laugh slipped from Aymeric's lips.

He shifted forward, covering your body with his again, though this time when his hips ground against yours, his erection slipped lewdly through your lips and you moaned; Half in the pleasure of feeling him so very close to the hottest part of you, half in anticipation, nearly shaking with it. But even though Aymeric had agreed to grant to your desires, his pace was leisurely, as if he had all the time in the world, rather than hardly a bell to spare. One hand reached up again to bind your wrists, despite how obedient you had thus far been.

Aymeric's other hand strayed to your face, cupping your jaw between his fingers. He tilted your head until it lay at the perfect angle for him to seal your lips together again and drink deep of the passion between you. Your eyes fluttered closed again as his tongue swept coyly across your lips, persuading you to let him in.You were all too glad to let him though, and as he slid his tongue into your mouth to explore and dance once more, he eased his hips forward, too, until his cock breached your folds and pressed into your awaiting entrance.

You would have moaned his name in gratitude for at last fulfilling your desires, in appreciation for the delicious way his cock sank deeper inside, but with your mouth preoccupied, you settled for a wordless groan smothered by his lips and tongue. Though the sensation of him stretching your walls was what you had craved, a sweetly maddening fullness that you would think about again when your duties took you far from Ishgard, it stung as well. Aymeric was no small man, and his thick cock filling you ached in a way that somehow melded exquisitely with the pleasure.

His tongue swept up yours, beginning to writhe and twist as he rocked his hips steadily against you, eliciting yet more muffled moans. You bucked up into his thrusts, longing for him to fill you up all over again each time his cock retreated, leaving so much of you feeling empty. The heat in your body had reached a fever pitch, breaking out on your skin in a slick sheen of sweat, and Aymeric, despite all his slow, precise actions, fared little better. His skin pressing into yours was just as slippery and hot, adding to the obscene sound of your bodies meeting.

The steady rhythm of Aymeric's thrusts, though increasing in force as time wore on and whatever willpower he had left dissolved, unwound you slowly, but surely. Your fingers and toes curled and flexed, and your chest rose and fell more quickly, breaths shallow. Around his cock your walls squeezed just as eagerly and as desperately. A familiar coil of pressure and heat in your belly was hard to ignore, blocking out all coherent thought, leaving you to worry only about chasing the high that was so close within your reach.

Throughput your coupling, Aymeric had spent much time matching the thrust and twirl of his tongue to his rocking hips, as if in imitation. The kiss had grown sloppy, wet, and hot, and when he tore his lips from yours eventually, his breath came in hot pants along with yours. He placed several more needy, desperate kisses on your jaw and your neck, the ragged sound of his breath informing you he was nearly as close to losing himself as you. Though he seemed determined not to do so before dragging you there first.

"Come now, my dearest, I want to feel you come to completion," he breathed huskily into your ear, finally releasing your jaw as one long arm trailed down between your bodies.

You whimpered and moaned aloud, barely having the sense to bite down on your lip and stifle the bawdy noise, lest someone in the corridors outside hear. "Oh, Aymeric, I-I..." you trailed off, mouth hanging open and forming a wordless 'oh' as all the pressure and heat came to a head when his fingers stroked through your folds and massaged your clit.

All you could do then was repeat his name, over and over, a ragged, breathy pray under your breath, as if you might completely drift away from the mounting bliss if you didn’t speak it. The build up reached its limit, and the coil snapped, and Aymeric's lips descended on yours again to quiet you as you cried out in earnest, unable to stop yourself. The rush that flowed through your body was liquid heat, searing and tingling. Your digits curled so tightly they ached, and your cunt fluttered frantically around Aymeric's cock. The pull of your body and the instinctive roll of your hips against him were Aymeric's siren song, luring him to the point of no return.

His moans, low and feral, rolled through him and died on your tongue in a reflection of your own. He drove himself harder forward, as if he might sink even deeper, fingers still dancing over your clit and dragging out your orgasm. After several desperate thrusts that filled the room with the obscene smack of sweat-slicked flesh colliding, Aymeric met his peak and tumbled over, each new pump into your heat filling you with ropes of cum. He pumped himself into your core through your orgasm and his, his grasp on your wrists tightening enough to make you gasp and wince through your pleasure.

His pace died away smoothly, each thrust weakening after he spent himself within you, until he lay still atop you, a heaving, sweaty mess. He lay his head in the crook of your throat, damp strands of ebony hair clinging to his forehead and tickling your skin. The startlingly cool touch of the earring he wore brushed your overheated skin, and you weren't sure if the sensation was pleasant or not. Even spent, his cock took a time to soften, occasionally twitching inside of you and making you start each time.

He withdrew gingerly, and a stray trickle of cum seeped down your thigh. Rolling over off you and onto his back, Aymeric pulled you along with him, urging you to settle yourself against him. Drained and sated, you rest your head in the same hollow of his throat as he had done to you moments before, placing tired, half-hearted kisses there. Splaying your arms across his chest, you were tempted to close your eyes and slip into a peaceful sleep. Someday there would be time to relax and laze for bells on ends, but wasn't one of those times and your fun had nearly reached its end.

Beside you, Aymeric seemed to be fighting off the same need, though was coming to the same conclusions as you, too. There was much to be done, and it didn’t matter how badly he wanted to remain in bed beside you. But he would ignore those duties for just a little longer. He sighed softly, curling an arm around you and pulling you a little tighter to him.

#writing #ffxiv #final fantasy xiv #aymeric de borel #ao3 #archive of our own #fic friday #nsft #n/s/f/w #reader insert

[forgiven-whimsy]

The Red Violin

FFXIV write 2020 prompt 2: Sway

Shiloh’s song  Shiloh and Emet’s duet (note the spotify version has a longer piano opening.) 

Anyways, touches of Lominsan/Vylbrand headcanons (they’re the ff Newfoundland, imo)  Aumortine music and art headcanons, and Garlean headcanons. Imagery leaning heavily on 5.3 revelations, while I don’t use express spoilers, reader beware. 

Set After Rak’Tika, but before Ahm Areng. 

Rated T - Angst

Wol x Emet-Selch

(Why yes the Red Violin is one of my all time favorite movies, why do you ask?) 

~

“I am a patron of the arts, always have been, the best your kind has to offer is found in the arts, incomplete as it is, there’s a certain charm to be found in it.” Emet-Selch sipped from his wine glass, swiping his gloved finger over the bars surface then wrinkling his nose. 

“What do you mean incomplete? Art is by its very nature subjective, therefore art’s completeness is defined by the artist, not the audience.” Shiloh replied, not particularly keen on hearing about all the ways she was inferior, but curious about how his timeless people made music, or art, the idea of Asciens being artists was a foreign concept, yet getting to know Emet-Selch, not entirely far-fetched. Solus Zos Galvus was historically a patron of the arts, she’d been aboard the Prima Vista and seen the reach of his patronage.

“It would be easier to show you.” And with a snap of his fingers the Crystarium vanished and he transported them to an entirely different environ. They were in a theatre, great gold trimmed red curtains, on stage a spotlight centered on a sleek black grand piano, surrounding it was all manner of string instruments, violin, cello, lute, harp, and even others she couldn’t name, Shiloh itched to touch them, to try them and see what sound they might make. The stage jutted out in a half moon, far more open than anything she’d ever seen, the audience seating surrounded the stage allowing a certain intimacy between artist and audience. Above, there was a massive chandelier whose teardrop crystals twinkled in the soft theatre lighting, the balconies climbed three stories, each gilded and carved with vines and flowers, painted in reds and golds, opulent. Stage left there was one particular balcony that caught her eye, the carvings more elaborate and draped in finery. 

“This is the Great Arena Theatrum in Garlemald,” Shiloh near gasped out, before rounding on Emet-Selch, “you brought me to Garlemald?” She had just let him, an Ascien, teleport her to the heart of enemy territory, and she wasn’t sure whether to be annoyed, furious or ashamed at being taken so easily. The musician in her near fainted with joy. Regardless of Garlean politics, every musician, actor, and dancer worth their salt has dreamt of performing on the Theatrums stage, Shiloh was no exception. While she was the daughter of a Doman refugee, she had been raised in Vylbrand, and the island's lifeblood was music. A house wasn’t a home without a piano, and a fiddle, and she’d been taught both as a child. She could recall playing her fiddle standing on the kitchen table imagining herself on this very stage. 

“Calm down hero, we are in an approximation of my own making, hidden away from prying eyes here in Norvrant, my fool grandson let the Theatrum fall into disrepair.” He sniffed derisively, “when I have proven my point to you I shall return you to the Crystarium without a hair out of place. It wounds me that you still don’t trust me.” He gave her a smile that did not inspire trust. 

He walked her into the spotlight, his gloved hands touching her lightly at the elbow, the twinkling light from the chandelier painted stars onto the raised top of the grand piano exposing the finely curved wood and strings within. Sitting on the piano bench was a violin case, Emet-Selch presented it to her with a flourish. Shiloh sat and opened the case to reveal the most exquisite violin she’d ever beheld. The spruce top had been stained a deep red with a bow to match, she delicately ran her fingers over the curving wood, the strings, the bow. Shiloh made a noise in her throat as she lifted the rare treasure into her arms, that prompted a chuckle from her Ascien companion. “A peace offering, the only condition is to play me something that stirs your soul, something original if it please.” He lifted her chin forcing her gaze from the violin to him, “move me, and I shall show you what your music once was.” 

“No pressure,” Shiloh held his gaze, seeing a spark of something she couldn’t describe in his golden eyes. “It’s been years since I’ve played, anything.” The weight of his expectation was heavy. He only smiled. 

“I have faith in you, dear hero.” Emet-Selch snapped his fingers and he disappeared into a black portal, she heard it re-open stage left, and there he sat, every inch an emperor in his gilded private balcony. “Take whatever time you need to warm up.” he called from his lavish chair, glass of wine in hand. With that, the theatre lights dimmed, the instruments, all save the grand piano, vanished, the spotlight remained on her. 

Shiloh felt like a mouse being toyed with by a cat. Squaring her shoulders she set the violin to her chin and prayed to all the Twelve and Kami, The Light and Dark both, that the bow would glide across the strings without screaming. The last time she’d picked up a violin was at Haurchefant’s funeral, at the behest of Lord Edmont, nearly two years past. A lance of grief sliced through her.  She could refuse, she could tell him to bring her back to the Crystarium, but then, she’d never know what Ascien music sounded like. It was the memory of Haurchefant, the two of them sitting shoulder to shoulder playing a silly duet on his childhood piano in the Fortempt music room that steeled her spine.

She started with a slow scale, each note sung and not screamed, to her considerable relief. Shiloh exhaled, it wasn’t perfect, but it wasn’t terrible, her fingers remembered the strings. She warmed up with scales, old childhood lullabies, folk songs played around the kitchen table. Finally she played an Ishgardian waltz, the sheet music a gift from her departed friend. She felt herself smiling, eyes shut, tail swaying in time with the tempo. Her mind filling in the missing instruments as the red violin sang with a full and mournful voice. So focused on practicing and remembering, Shiloh didn’t hear Emet-Selch’s portal behind her. 

“All very lovely, my dear, I’m sure Master Jevant Dufet would be pleased with such an able rendering of the Midnight Waltz, and without sheet music, most impressive.” 

Shiloh startled, spinning around to face him.

Emet-Selch tutted her while he approached, he placed gentle hands at her waist, spinning her back into the spotlight. He was in her space and she could feel his warmth, smell his scent. “I didn’t ask you to stop.” His long arms reached around lifting the violin back to her collar bone, he tilted her head just so before tracing a gloved finger along her jaw and arched neck. “I want to hear the song that resides in your soul.” His breath ghosted along her cheek, the timber of his voice resonating along her horn, and she felt her skin pebble. “Will you play it for me?” 

“I don’t know, I don’t have any original composi-” 

“Stop thinking, close your eyes, listen, and play.” His voice was patient, while he lifted her bow arm to the right position. 

Shiloh inhaled, and did as she was bid, listening, for what, she didn’t know. She felt the quick beat of a Thanvarian flamenco fluttering in her chest and slowly bow met strings, and the song that flew out was urgent, her bowing quick and precise borrowing heavily of the Thanvarian style, but so too was there a distinctly Ul’dhan quality, in her mind's eye she felt as a bird flying over the dunes, weaving over the rising heat. 

Emet-Selch’s touch was soft, gone was the silk of his glove, replaced by warm skin, his snap fit within her song and suddenly the guitar, the percussion, the accompanying strings, the piano, the light horns, the full voice of her song burst forth, the violin threading through each section. “Open your eyes.” he whispered against her horn, and she did. 

Gone was the theatre, they were bathed in the colours of the sunset, and above them flew a phoenix, dipping and diving along all the lands she’s seen, and saved, and loved. “Don’t stop.” he whispered, setting a hand on her hip and squeezing. She gasped at the sight, at the raw beauty. And she played with a bursting heart, tears slipping from unblinking eyes unwilling to look away from the dancing phoenix. She increased the tempo, bowing more quickly, the notes tumbling along the winds of the star, knowing that it would end if she stopped, and she didn’t want it to stop. She let the fire in her soul burn as brightly as she could, uncaring of the ach in her fingers, knowing only that the creature above was born of her music, and so she played for it’s pleasure, and it soared, the violin it’s voice and heart. Until in a burst of flame it was consumed, and the song ended. 

She swayed on her feet, consumed by emotion, bittersweet tears running down her face. She leaned against Emet-Selch who remained behind her, his hand at her throat, and hip moving gently, caressing. Overwhelmed she exhaled a shuddering breath. 

“Do you understand now, what was lost?” He asked quietly, voice heavy with the same emotion she was feeling.

“How did you?”

“I assure you my dear I did nothing but lend you a sliver of my power, the song, the image, everything, was born of your heart, your soul. And so it was that all art was created in a similar fashion. The full intent of the piece complete.” 

Shiloh spun in his arms, still clutching bow and violin, she was met with a half quirked smile and a softness in his eyes she’d not thought possible. He tenderly brushed the tears from her cheeks, “yours was always a beautiful song, so full of passion.” 

Shiloh’s head was swimming, she wanted to keep playing, she had so many questions, and yet she found herself drowning in the liquid gold of his eyes, the same pale gold as her own. She licked her lips, and leaned against the palm of his hand where he held her cheek. 

“Play with me?” she asked breathless, “before we go, play with me, a duet.” He closed his eyes, his expression pained, “please, Emet.”

“How can I turn down so earnest a plea?” he gave her a rueful smile, “but, first.” He pressed his forehead to her own, and she felt something, cool, and comforting wash over her, where her song, her aether, she belatedly realized, was like the sun, Emet-Selch’s aether, his soul was as the moon. Her own aether responded, curious and warm, until their essence mingled, until there was no ending nor beginning between them. “There, that should serve.” 

Shiloh both did and didn’t understand what he’d done, he stepped back going to the grand piano. His presence remained, slowly curling around her, lazy and familiar. “As before, listen, and play.” 

Shiloh lifted the violin, and tilted her head, giddy with anticipation, moving to be in sight of him and waited. 

Emet began the song, quiet notes on the piano, Shiloh did not close her eyes this time. With each passing note the theatre fell away replaced by blackest night until a city made of stardust rose around them. He met her eyes and nodded and she knew her part had come and she joined her song to his, she knew the notes, a song from a past she couldn’t place, suddenly the starlit city filled with people wraithlike and sparkling. But it was two individuals that caught her eye. Emet-Selch changed the tempo to a style she’d never heard before, yet it was familiar, she adjusted her tempo to match. The two wraiths danced, spinning through the grand city, there was joy in their movements. Unadulterated love between them. One lifted the other, and she could swear the one who was lifted laughed, when placed down they ran from the first, a game. The first chased, sometimes catching them in a kiss, sometimes missing, until the other rounded back to jump into the firsts arms. Shiloh’s heart ached, the song and starlit players a half remembered memory. The song changed again, mournful, the city fell away, one of the wraiths, the one who played, faded, leaving only one, until it also faded, and the song ended. 

She felt the pain thrumming from Emet’s aether still entwined with her own, his head bowed over the piano. Shiloh set the violin back in its case and went to him, wrapping her arms around his back, anything to ease the overwhelming sadness. His hand grasped at her arm, and she felt a shudder from him. 

“I’m here.” She whispered against his ear, soft hair tickling her nose. 

He shook his head. 

“I’m here.” She repeated, not understanding all, but knowing what she witnessed in their shared song had been a glimpse of their story.

He twisted in her arms, anguish on his face, “you left.” his voice a harsh whisper fraught with emotion. 

She had no answer for him, nothing to ease the pain, she didn’t understand, didn’t remember, whatever her soul had been to him, was gone, but it’s echo knew him, called to him, and she kissed his angry mouth, a despairing sound whimpered from Emet’s throat. He grabbed her and kissed her again, and again, hungry, lost, full of longing. Their twined aether created a feedback loop consuming them. His hands were everywhere, and Shiloh arched into him. In a moment he had her against the piano, discordant notes interrupting their growing passion. It was enough to stop them, and for a half beat they stared at each other panting. Emet-Selch was the first to move, tearing his aether from hers, and she winced, the withdrawal a physical pain. He snapped his fingers, returning Shiloh to the Crystarium, as promised, without so much as a word.

She made her way back to her room in the Pendants, still processing everything she’d learned, and seen, and felt. Every so often touching her kiss swollen lips. She slid into her room meeting no one she knew along the way, no one to question the high blush on her cheek and chest, or the dazed look in her eyes. Distracted as she was it took a minute for her to notice the violin case sitting on her kitchen table. She knew before opening it what she’d find within, a promise, a memory, her red violin. 

#ffxivwrite2020 #ffxiv #prompt #Emet-Selch x wol #have some music and some angst #with half an hour to spare #Shadowbringers #Vague 5.3 spoilers #Exposed writes

[illegiblewords]

Still sorting life stuff out rn, but the ffxiv ask meme got me thinking.

I don’t know if other people would be interested in doing it or not, but I’d love to read more WoL origin stories. Like self-contained, assume-the-reader-knows-nothing, physical-description-required, introduce-from-family-to-home-to-motive-to-etc. Focus on what happens before they arrive in the cart at their beginning city state.

I know people totally write stories for their WoLs, but that smooth entry point and allowing the OC to be the starring role while weaving them into the world... It’s probably in part because I haven’t gotten to properly explore, but I don’t know where to find these or if they’re out there! I’ve seen summaries, I know RP blogs do their thing, but like a cohesive prose short story introducing the character idk.

The reason I mention is that I honestly think the creativity and love people show for their OCs in FFXIV is a beautiful thing. I love feeling like any character I make with their background has been created alongside so many alternate versions of the Warrior of Light. I love seeing the variety people come up with and the feeling of the Warrior having a specific past that trails unseen behind them, that no one really asks about but still shapes them regardless.

Would anyone be interested in doing stuff like that? I’d even consider doing a master list or something so people could look at all the different kinds of Warriors there are.

#final fantasy xiv #final fantasy 14 #ffxiv #ff14 #shadowbringers

[autumnslance]

Character meme: Thancred

Give me a character and I’ll break them down:

This got long cuz I tend to ramble about this dude.

How I feel about this character:

This utter absolute godsdamned bastard of a man. How dare he.

When I really got into FFXIV finally (after only dabbling for a bit), the age gap of his listed 32 and my RL age at the time put the same distance as me and my own younger brother, and that is where Thancred fits. I was FINE with him as a total bro, as the local disaster, similar to a younger sibling I am both fond of and exasperated by. He has a lot of backstory, character development, and changes, even before Shadowbringers really brings his various issues and working through them to the foreground. I love snarky, sarcastic characters, using that to cover their pain and issues. Highly competent but still so full of doubts. Acting out middle child of the core Scions family (now the elder brother figure with Papalymo gone and his own sense of responsibility kicking in in healthier ways).

There's a lot there, and he hits a lot of character tropes I like as a writer and reader both. So for 2 full playthroughs, he was a colleague, a companion, a pal, a bro.

Now. Now when I make a fic writing WoL based off the lady midlander CGI model, now when I decide to make an ace WoL who won't get shipped with anyone cuz we so rarely see that, now when I decide to roll Aeryn through the MSQ and got to meeting the Scions and Ifrit's quest...

Sigh. Here we are, 3+ years and counting, and "Shippy Nonsense" has completely taken over my FFXIV posting and it's all that Damn Rogue's fault. I blame his bonus to sneak attack vs a WoL's smallclothes. I know he took that feat.

He’s still my bro that I am going to tease affectionately while my character swoons, but I am going to be amusedly grumbly about it forever.

(Also I still think his ARR model is Generic Anime Protag #3547 and isn’t all that visually interesting. I like bits and pieces of the HW mountain hobo look. I think his ShB model is better at showing his experience and personality, but still wish there were some adjustments.)

All the people I ship romantically with this character

Fellow Wolcred ships. I love you all. Also it just makes “sense” to me to ship WoL with a Scion over most other NPCs, and Thancred is definitely the default nice handsome male romance option like what one gets at the beginning of a Bioware game (looking at you, Carth, Kaiden, Alistair...). I just. y’know. Thought OC/NPC shipping was for other people, not me.

I have a soft spot for occasional Y'shtola/Thancred and Urianger/Thancred. I feel like he’s a person who’d only open to true romantic relationships with people he’s known and trusted for awhile, because of his own doubts and issues.

He’s totally a Bi disaster though; a lean toward women, perhaps, but certain dudes’ll turn his head.

My non-romantic OTP for this character

Thancred & Minfilia for the found family brother-sister trope.

Thancred & Ryne for the same, with father-daughter flavor instead.

Thancred & Urianger for the best bros back and forth.

Thancred & Y'shtola for the best bros in a different way. I also include here occasional side-along headcanons for a FWB situation for them, safe comfort and release--especially after the Lifestream--but without romance; their love is platonic.

(I can’t quite see Urianger doing a casual FWB in the same way tho, he doesn’t strike me as the type; it’s all or nothing there.)

My unpopular opinion about this character

How I see the "temporary eye injury." How he likely wasn't as much of a slut as assumed--while he got plenty, he also used the flirting as a cover a lot (esp given how he drops the flirty demeanor entirely post-Antitower). How he likely wasn't as much of a drunkard in ARR patches as assumed, either; getting blackout drunk makes little sense when the issue was loss of control thanks to possession.

I also think many of the people who think it would have been “fitting” (or just wished for) him to die at the Trolley RP Duty in ShB missed some of the point of Shadowbringers’ overarching themes. ShB could certainly be dark at times, but overall was a story of hope and the differences between remembering the past versus being held captive by it, and the bonds between people. If it were a more tragic story with more pessimistic themes, then yes; Thancred dying then to protect Ryne with their issues unresolved would have been (heartbreaking but) fitting. However, that’s not the story being told; it’s him using that battle as catharsis to beat at his own issues and realize he really had repeated his original mistakes. To make his peace with Minfilia’s loss and then, in the end, work things through with Ryne and be the man he should have been for her.

Ryne gets the fairy tale ending of having her parental figure that she feared resented her tell her he was sorry and fix himself for her.

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon.

We should have seen more of his and Minfilia’s found family relationship in game. There wasn’t a lot of room for it in 2.0, it could have been in the 2.x patches a bit more, but a lot about their relationship is described after she’s already gone.

Ran’jit was Thancred’s kill. There is no way that was originally written with the General porting out last second just for the WoL to suddenly be able to defeat his plot armor. The Trolley RP Duty has the foil character set up, the “last special bullet,” and the player is controlling Thancred at the time. It makes no narrative sense and stinks of executive meddling out of some fear the players would feel cheated by not having it be WoL who defeats Ran’jit, but it’s a serious misstep in the story. We could have, should have, fought suped-up Jongleurs as the speed bump boss to Vauthry, as those characters also were woefully underused.

I’m also hoping for more personal Scion history as we get to Old Sharlayan; while most of the older Scions are from or were educated in the Dravanian Colony, being around the culture and people again shall surely give us more information as to their academic backgrounds.

And we all always need more nutkin interactions and shenanigans.

#Final Fantasy XIV #Lyn Prompts #Thancred Waters #I love him and want to shake him for being Like That