beyondtheduststorms

[beyondtheduststorms]

Tell me, for whom do you fight? 🤔

How very glib, 😑🙄

and do you believe in Eorzea? 😏

Eorzeas’ unity is forged on falsehoods. Its city-states are built on deceit, and its faith is an instrument of deception. It is naught but a cobweb of lies🕷🕸🙄 - to believe in Eorzea is to believe in nothing. In Eorzea, the beast tribes often summon Gods 🙏🙏🙏 to fight in their stead.

Though your comrades only rarely respond in kind 

- which is strange, is it not? Are the twelve otherwise "engaged"? 💍 I was given to understand they were your protectors. If you truly believe them your guardians, why do you not repeat the trick that served you so well at Carteneau, and call them down? 😏☎️🔇 They will answer, so long as you lavish them with crystals 💎 and gorge them on aether 💦😳. Your Gods are no different from those of the beasts - eikons, every one 🤡🤪. Accept but this, and you will see how Eorzeas faith is bleeding the land dry. Nor is this unknown to your masters, which prompts the question - why do they cling to these false deities? What drives even men of learning 

- even the great Louisoux 🎓

to grovel at their feet? The answer? Your masters lack the strength to do otherwise! 🤣 For the world of man to mean anything, man must own the world. 👉🌍👈To this end, he hath fought ever to raise himself through conflict, to grow rich💰💰💰 through conquest🛡⚔😡. And when the dust of battle settles, it is ever the strong who dictate the fate of the weak. Knowing this, but a single path is open to the impotent ruler - that of false worship🙏👑🙏. A path which leads to enervation and death 🤡😰⚰. Only a man of power can rightly steer the course of civilization. And in this land of 

cReEpInG mEnDaCiTy, 

that one truth will prove its salvation. Cum Come, champion of Eorzea, face me! Your defeat shall serve as proof of my readiness to rule👑! It is only right that I should take your realm, for none among you has the power to stop me! 😎😎😎

[beyondtheduststorms]

thancred's side

1780 words. same shit different flavor - just thancred's side from my wolcred angst

tags: angst, unrequited love (from wol's side), 2.0 spoilers

post-Lahabread

Thancred was fading in and out of consciousness after the Warrior of Light beat Lahabrea out of his body. He could recall seeing a figure clad in bright light carrying him onto a Magitek armor. Gods know who that figure might have been, but the conscious remnants of the image he was able to recall suggested that it was someone he knew. A fellow comrade. And he knew that he felt safe seeing them then and there. Every ilm of his exhausted body seemed to yearn for the comfort that those arms brought along in their touch as his consciousness faded away.

Thancred was informed that (___) was the one who saved him from the Praetorium. On a magitek armor called Maggi.

'Tis only appropriate they are dubbed the Warriors of Light, he distantly thought. Had he not known better, he would have thought that the radiance he saw there was because of love at first sight.

But the shame of being possessed quickly came creeping in.

How could he, a Sharlayan scholar, get so close to the crystal of darkness that it could absorb him? He knew well better than any other person out there that it's dangerous to approach the Ascians in such reckless fashion - confound it all, he managed to get close enough to become possessed without even realizing it. He remembered staying around the Waking Sand with the damned Ascian voice in his head, telling him to scout the area for secret entrances, mapping the building in his head, and just sitting there & calculate how much Imperial men would it take to bring down all the Scions... and he couldn't have been doing it unconsciously. He knew who those commands would have benefitted, but he couldn't muster the strength to fight against it.

He was too weak and weary. Because he wanted to become stronger.... how ironic.

The Scions welcomed him back with kindness, telling him to rest properly and regain the strength he'd lost. They were all so nice to him. To someone who let himself become under the hands of an Ascian. And they worry for him, pity him, cares for him - there is no way they're not looking down on him for what he's done. Even when they're family, they're still really unrelated. Would he himself forgive someone else who's taken by the same fate, had he not been the one weakened by lust for strength?

Thoughts after thoughts sent him into a spiral. He rested his body, but he felt restless in his soul. His mind kept wandering off into territories of regret and sorrow, and he could still hear the voice of that damned Ascian ordering him around as if he's still being possessed.

He largely kept his composure when others were present, but he couldn't keep up the facade when he's alone by himself. When the other Scions went out for tasks and he's left alone in the library, the dim candlelights soothed him and drove him insane simultaneously, as it brought him both the familiar comfort of the Waking Sand's interior and the grim darkness inside of his own head when he was taken over by Lahabrea. The more he struggled to fight against that voice, the more he shrunk into himself, curling into a corner pulling on his own hair and clawing at his own skin as he tried to stop the growing voices inside of him. Lahabrea's voice ordering him around, and his own voice telling him he's naught but a disappointment to his colleague Scions; a traitor to his fallen comrades. Sometimes he would start singing by himself as if to recall his role as a bard, but also to ease the silent chambers of the Waking Sand. It was far too painful for him to bear, as it reminded him of the people who used to be there, his fellows who fell to the hands of the Imperials, the lively atmosphere that once existed there. The people that were no longer.

It was because of him that all those people had to die. It was because of him that any of this happened. It was because of him that they got ahold of Minfilia and Tataru and the others, and it was his carelessness that led Eorzea into the chaos that was Operation Archon.

He needed a distraction. From all of the things going on inside of his head, from the aching of his heart, and from the silence at the Waking Sand.

Regardless of his break, Thancred would still go out to buy orange juice for Tataru occassionally, and while the Warrior of Light being around the Waking Sand isn't at all a rare sight, the strange-looking highlander Hyur and the Miqo'te girl that accompanied them was a... peculiar bunch, to say the least. So he held on to that knowledge.

The Warrior of Light... eikon slayer, champion of Eorzea, Bringer of Light, the hero of our story -- all clad in armor to assist this funny looking Hyur. Still serving the people even while taking a break... how... zealous.

Thancred found himself clinging onto his knowledge of this adventurer. Why, with that same weary look he's wearing, maybe the esteemed warrior needs a distraction too?

And so that's what he did. He invited the adventurer out for drinking at night in Ul'dah - not too far from the Waking Sand so they can rush back whenever there's a problem, and not too close to where his problems lie. Surely enough, the one in question agreed with no further inquiries. Had he not known better, he would have thought that such an eager acceptance to his invitation was because of romantic involvements.

Night falls as the both of them travels to Ul'dah, the gentle moonlight carried their footsteps. The fun had just begun, he thought as he laughed endlessly at stories about Hildibrand the Gentleman of Light, Nashu his assistant and their funny little endeavors. It was distracting enough for him to stop thinking about his guilt for a while, but just like how the ocean's powerful waves falls back ashore, sometimes he would still experience such emotional waves even while he's having a good time. His footsteps became weary even when he's having fun, and his sighs inevitably slipped out at moments where his mind trailed off; and all that he hoped for was so that no one would realize he's not in his best state of mind. Several nights like this went on, and he would hope that he'd distracted the champion of Eorzea enough that the events of him being possessed wouldn't be brought up again, that everyone knew he was already his usual self again before long. He's back out drinking, laughing, having fun with a fellow Scion after weary days of endless battles and tasks, resting himself just as they told him to - he should be back on his feet. Right?

But of course, our Warrior of Light had keen eyes and a sharp mind... or so he thought. Truly his family, the Scions could see right through his bad little lies. This was also why he kept away from Urianger, Y'shtola, Yda, Papalymo, and especially Minfilia and the likes of them - they would know right away that his sorry little ass is lying, and there's nothing he could do about it. He thought maybe someone who hadn't been with him much wouldn't pay much mind to it, but alas, they are his family after all. Nothing escapes their prying eyes.

In the end, he lost it to the worrying eyes of his fellow Scion, the one who rescued him from the bane of the Praetorium and freed him from the grasp of that damned Ascian. He lashed out without thinking, projecting his own insecurities on the hands of someone who only tried to help.

You can't save everyone just because you want to. That's right. He couldn't save the Scions even though he wanted to so, so badly - trapped in his own head, not being able to break free from the Crystal of Darkness that had him controlled like some sort of puppet, he could do naught but weep in his own thoughts as he watched his friends slaughtered by the hands of the Empire. He tried keeping his composure, and everyone was so nice to him, but deep down he knew that even if the others forgave him, he could never forgive himself. Wanting to be stronger to protect others was just another step that shattered his own mentality as he fell to his own personal hell of judgement... where the judge, the attorney, and the defendant all himself.

He knew he was in the wrong. This adventurer, pulled into all this chaos all because of the Echo, was only trying to offer help. He had no rights to be shouting at someone who's only showing him their genuine care. But hearing the highly esteemed hero claiming to understand his feelings, his internal struggles and his mentality just drove him nuts, and he couldn't take it. He couldn't fathom that the Warrior of Light, of all people, would claim to understand how he felt, how much he blamed himself, how much he constantly berated himself in his head? It must be crazy easy to just throw your words out there, speaking to assure the peoples of Eorzea their issues are taken care of, because oh mighty slayer of Ifrit, Titan, and Garuda alike knows it all about guilt and shame, of all people?! What arrogance... to commit such feats, and telling people that you feel guilt and shame too!

It must be so easy... just going around telling people you want to protect them. Because you can. You are the almighty eikon slayer and bringer of Light after all - blessed by Hydaelyn herself. What could go wrong? What could you not protect? What is there for you to blame yourself on?

Such is the ridiculousness Thancred found in the words of thee Warrior of Light standing in front of him. He mustered the mental strength to step out of his sorrowful rage, put of a smiling mask, and offered a walk back to the Waking Sand, as per usual. There was not much else that he could do but blame the alcohol they had earlier, but knowing a crack opened up on his facade to this person specifically... somehow brought all the more guilt and pain to his heart.

Another dawn breaks to their backs, carrying the same light of day that shone upon the Vesper Bay of his uneasy days. The throbs that Thancred was feeling in his heart, mayhap...

... nay, it must have been from the hangover.

[beyondtheduststorms]

in which i finally unleash the wolcred in my brain unto the world

[beyondtheduststorms]

She was fearless and crazier than him. She was his queen, and God help anyone who dared to disrespect his queen…

[beyondtheduststorms]

bollocks is finally up on ao3!

[beyondtheduststorms]

[beyondtheduststorms]

drabble::the space between us

i started this journey with you by my side, and yet here we are.

tags: thancred/wol, miqo'te wol, one sided feelings, impostor syndrome, msq: escape from castrum centri

i wrote this thinking i might die in my fight with titan the primal and i actually died, by falling down the cliff no less. my healer couldn't resurrect me so i technically did die and this is the continuation of that

The face behind that Ascian mask, under that hood... was Thancred's.

You feel the ground shake beneath you at the sight of him. Your charming Sharlayan scholar, your hard working comrade, your dear friend, your beloved Thancred -- possessed by an Ascian, as if the hardships you've been through were not enough. As if the deaths of your fellow scions didn't brought enough suffering.

It felt like a millennia since you last met him. You even thought he was dead, his body discarded into the graves of the church of adama landama unbeknownst to you. You thought you could never meet him again, that gentle gaze, those determined eyes, his flirtatious jokes, the warm ring of his voice - nonetheless, you would be more than happy if you were to know he's still alive and well, Like Yda, Y'shtola, Papalymo and Minfillia turned out to be. But not like this. Especially not like this.

I started this journey with you by my side, and yet here we are.

You could see a slight taunting smirk on his lips. His sinister gaze was not that of the Thancred that you knew.

As the Enterprise made its way to Ul'dah, you can't help but casting a pained gaze towards Castrum Centri... towards Thancred.

*~*

Hear. Feel. Think.

You think of Hydaelyn's words, echoing throughout your very being each time you are graced with her presence.

To think that Thancred overworked himself so much that the Ascians took ahold of his body - you can't help but clench your fist.

You couldn't be there to help the Scions when they fell to imperial hands, you were hardly there to help when they took Minfillia from the Waking Sands; without meeting Marques... no, without meeting Cid, you certainly wouldn't be able to get ahold of the fallen airship in Coerthas let alone ride it to rescue; without the help of your fellow adventurers, you would have outright died in your battle with Titan; none of these was your accomplishment. They were but awful failures that plagues your conscience.

What could Hydaelyn possibly wanted you to think about? What could the Crystals possibly want you to do? Why were you ever given the gift of the Echo? Mayhap it was all but a grand mistake, one that is too late to be redeemed - if you were to quit now, in the wake of Operation Archon, it would all the more stir up your sleepless regrets. As your comrades point out the keys of the operation, you could hear your thought stray further from the conversation as you quietly let out a sigh; your hands clenching a fist so hard that your nails clawed through your thick gloves, leaving marks on the palms of your hands.

Your friends trust you. The Scions trust you with all what they have, and granted you the two most important tasks of this operation - you must not fail at all costs. But what if you do? After all, you've failed time and time again, at the cost of far too many lives; unlike them, you are worthless, an impostor not worth of anyone's time. Yet the peoples of Eorzea celebrate your name, deeming you a hero of the realm - a title you're afraid that you're too unfit to bear. You're ashamed of this false title, yet too reluctant to break the people's illusions of you - hell, you're supposed to be the hero, at the heart of this operation! What is to come if you were to come clean and tell them you're not the person they need?

Muddy thoughts further cloud your head as you furrow your eyebrows and grit your teeth. A hero filled to the brim with self-doubt, how ludicrous. You sigh softly as you held your head high.

If there is something that I can do... if there is something I could do... I am willing to do it. Even if it costs me my life. I will bring you back to us, as it is the least that I can do.

Wait for me, Thancred. No matter how vast the space between us is, I will come for you.

[beyondtheduststorms]

please dont look at my posts this is literally a shitpost blog

[beyondtheduststorms]

rambles

i am in so much pain.

so hungry, but no desire to chow down on anything.

so thirsty, but no will to stand up and get a drink.

so tired, yet no such desire to sleep.

so sad, yet no way out.

i don't know how long i've been feeling like this. i don't want to self-diagnose myself with any mental illnesses that require far more professional knowledge than a simple google search, but it's eating me alive and i know it. i haven't eaten properly for days; only coffee and sweet tea and whatnot providing me with some sort of energy to keep going. i don't even know why i'm trying so hard to keep going. my hands gave out a few days ago and i don't even feel them; my head aches as i should be sleeping, but here i am writing out some word vomit to ease my mind.

my brain forms coherent thoughts the same time as it does gibberish baby talk. images flash by as i try to focus, and vivid memories from the past intertwine with hazy recent events that i so desperately try to force myself to forget about.

my desire to eat is there, it just won't bulge. it's not strong enough to make me get up from my bed and grab something from the fridge. it's not strong enough to get me out of my room and actually eat something regardless of what other people think -- normally i would still eat the week-old foodstuffs that's been aging in the family fridge even if my mother goes out of her way to nag and rant at me for being a "stupid" person and eating "old stuff" instead of making new food. yesterday such an event happened yet again and i just stopped. i just took some fruits and left the half-heated pot on the sink. after all, that's what she wanted. i don't think anyone wants to keep eating if they get called stupid every time they try to do so. i know that it's even more so stupid to not eat entirely. but i can't help it.

i stormed out of my classroom the other day, frustrated that somehow not paying fees for a medical insurance card for myself - which benefits me of all people - would result in a negative point in my academic profile. normally i would just shrug it off, it's just a piece of paper. i went through sickness without insurance before, i'll be fine. but i can't help it.

i'm not in pain. i'm fine. i can make it another day. i have to make it out. i have to make it to the end of the tunnel to know if there is truly light, if there is a way out. i dearly hope there is a way out, but there's no clear cut way to know it.

if my efforts were to be in vain after all, why not cut it early, right?

[beyondtheduststorms]

it actually feels so reassuring that no one knows about this blog lol i can just go off

[beyondtheduststorms]

infatuation

hi, this will be literally my first drabble(?) in years and i owe this new spark to thancred and all the various wolcred writers on ao3 :) it's so difficult finding a fic of wolcred that doesn't involve spoilers (i am new to the game, on ARR trial still) so i guess this is a bit self-indulgent too. (ao3 writers please have mercy on early simps)

i'm writing on the tumblr editor, so sorry for the formatting.

tags: Thancred/WOL, Thancred/reader, miqo'te WOL, gender ambitious WOL, impostor syndrome, self doubt, one-sided(?), angst(?), ARR MSQ ~33 because that's where i'm at

1226 words

Oh, twelves. Oh dear.

You knew you're doomed when you first heard his voice emerging from behind you, his tone warm and assuring. Gods, he was a good looking one. The immediate danger that followed broke through your little bubble of puppy love, but nevertheless as you fought with him side by side, you knew you wish to meet him again. Was it love at first sight, you wonder, as you knew this sort of feeling is never good to have, though you still clench your fist at the thought of meeting him again. It's never too bad to have a handsome face in your view.

Came your second meeting, your third, fourth-- Gods, it just didn't stop coming and he became a regular face to you. You learned that his name is Thancred - admittedly, it has a nice ring to it. That a simple traveler like you could become somewhat of an acquaintance and have the fortunate fate of seeing him from time to time, it must be a gift from the Twelves... or so you thought.

Fast forward to countless little errand runs later - you are now a Scion, standing equal to him in a peculiar organization, handling equally tedious tasks as he did -- as he does. You just started your adventures not too long ago, and yet here you are in the Waking Sands, dubbed his "family" by Minfillia, talking to him as if you're truly comrades. Gods, it felt so abrupt to you, knowing one of the main reasons that you are there was because of the Echo as Minfillia addressed it. It felt almost as if you're not supposed to be there.

It wasn't because of your kindness, your heart, your talent, your hardworking merits, your stance -- simply because of a "gift" you were given unbeknownst to yourself, a "gift" you couldn't even bear to control.

All while the looming anxiety in you grows, as does the "puppy love" that you felt from the very start for Thancred. Each time you meet through missions, each time you interact with him, you could feel it eat you up more ever so slightly; it was naught but simple endearing details of him that caught you more and more entwined in this tangle mess of your own feelings. The shape of his nose, his jawlines, the ashy strands that overshadows his face, his beautiful amber eyes always filled with something akin to hope or so you presume; the way he makes a show of himself, the way he playfully flirts with you and everyone alike, the sight of his reassuring silhouette always ready to come to your aid-

the way his eyes were glossed over with regret where he knew he left you out in danger when you fought Ifrit, the way he wants to grow stronger to protect those in need of his helping hand, the way he-

You know this won't do. You know this growing feeling inside of you is just infatuation. You know he would never look your way, even just for a brief moment. You know he flirts with everyone, and that makes you no exception - you know he is himself, he is Thancred, and you will never catch that kind of gaze from the Thancred that you know. He would never. He is your friend, your ally, your colleague, your dearest flirtatious scholar. No matter what kind of feeling you hold for him, this won't do.

This won't do because you won't ever deserve his gaze.

The sound of your name cuts you from your train of thoughts.

"Are you feeling alright?" asked Thancred as he held out a drink for you.

For a moment you flinched - you forgot you were in the Waking Sands waiting for Minfillia to come out from her meeting all while letting your intrusive thoughts ran through your little miqo'te head. Thancred's gaze meets yours as you forced yourself to look away from it.

"Oh! Um... I'm alright, Thancred." You knew it must have been rude to look away so abruptly like that, so you force yourself to look up at him albeit loosely letting your eyes rest on somewhere ambiguous on his forehead as you held out your hand to receive the drink he'd so kindly gotten for you. "I appreciate the concern. I was just... lost in thoughts, is all."

"Indeed, you must have so much on your mind right now," he sat down on a little chair near you as he spoke. "It's the Titan that we have the honor to face now. Gods be damned, we're making you face a primal - again, after your unfortunate encounter with Ifrit. How could you not worry?"

"I suppose you can put it like that." You squirm. You forgot the Titan even existed, as you were only dwelling in your selfish, unimportant feelings towards the man sitting next to you. You're slaying a Primal. How could you forget? How could you be so self-centered that you forget that you're facing a Primal? You hear the voice deep inside you rumble as you struggle to forge a smile. "But I... am willing to accept this mission. I believe this is part of my duty as a Scion, and I want to help out. I believe that I became an adventurer because of this."

You know you're lying through your teeth as you grit the words as if you want to chew them out. You didn't want to admit, but you are fully accepting these dangerous missions because part of you just want the Primal to slay you instead. You don't deserve a place here among the Scions; someone else more talented and less clouded with sophisticated feelings towards their colleague could take over your place at no time. After all, you are but a simple adventurer. But because you are one, it won't hurt to try your hands at slaying Titan - the worst you'll face is death anyways.

You can feel Thancred's warm hand as he pats your back in an attempt to soothe your visibly clenched hands. Your ears plopped as your tail softly wags behind you, brushing the walls of the Waking Sands. You're sure he only comforts you because he thinks that you are stressed of the thoughts of Titans, but the feeling of his soft touches lingering on your back makes you feel all the more flustered.

He is your friend. Don't ruin this.

The silence was both so comfortable and painful for you to bear. But at least you know that you're taking these feelings to your grave were you to fail. These carefully guarded heartbeats will not reveal themselves to Thancred any time soon, and knowing that eases you a little bit.

The doors to the Solar creaked open, and you turn your head towards it, knowing Minfillia is inside awaiting your presence. As does she for Yda, Papalymo, Y'shtola, Urianger, and Thancred.

All these knowledgeable people, and you get to stand equal as them as a Scion... even though you are so much less than they are. You wonder how long it will be until they find out - mayhap it will be the death of you - as you step into the chamber with your comrades.

This is naught but infatuation. I am but an impostor. Time will tell them that I am not... the heroic figure they think I am.