#🍑 memeprosed ( asks. )

[nymfaia]

Fuck marry kill Arthur Leon Frey

ask my muse anything you want on anon / accepting!

     “-- No?”

     Xiao Pai stood as if she were malfunctioning, walnut brown irises seeming to swirl as she contemplated. No, she didn’t want to fuck and marry and then kill any of them. That would be a waste of time and affection, she thought, not to mention she barely had it in her to prepare fish for suppers.

     Well. Her clumsiness could kill someone. One. Not somethree.

     “I think - I wed Leon, yes? He is a good man. He teases, but - he’s never lost his temper at me dropping things. Even on him. Frey ... has done too much to dispose. And she’s very, very cute -”

     Her hands had reached into her hair, fiddling with the ends of her fringe. Xiao Pai partially obscured her face with her hand, hiding the roaring blush that kissed her cheeks.

     “Arthur - is - ... who is Arthur? So, I think, in that order - Frey, Leon, and Arthur, yes?”

     She knew so little about Arthur. The man managed to be a looking glass for others, pleasant and seemingly transparent and wholly bland. She had to admit to herself, however, that she hadn’t much tried connecting with the man beyond their shared enjoyment of manju.

     “...Why would you ask that of anyone?” Xiao added, her voice bashful and uncertain, speaking up when it wasn’t wholly asked. “It’s - ... I don’t want - ...”

[nymfaia]

100 Small Details For Kisses -- 20. Hand Kisses, for Alta!

100 small details. 🍑 accepting!  🍑  @magitekhearted

      The voice that greeted her ears was familiar. It prickled the hair on the back of her neck, an uncertain sort of trepidation causing her to swallow, instinct telling her to draw her hand back. Something was not right.

      But she didn’t. The amused hum that followed as she slotted her fingers into his grasp, the digits long and thin and unmarred by scales. It was as if she were watching her own body from afar, twisted and wrong. Alta could as easily move herself from him as she could scream - frozen in third person. In a moment, it was her own memory, and then it wasn’t. A golden ring on one of her fingers abruptly brought her to her senses, peering down at the man ahead of her as he bowed courteously.

     “Menenius,” he said. And then he brushed his lips across her knuckles, a trickle of laughter shaking her shoulders. No - not her. Theirs. “Menenius -”

     Alta did not catch the rest of his sentence, his family name and formalities blurring in her mind’s eye as the slam of a door jolted her to her senses. She sat up from her cell with a startled gasp, raising her hands ahead of her with a bite of panic.

     Hers. Tanned, scaled, nails short and unkempt. The jewelry around one finger was silver colored, as it always was, a scar slicing it’s way between her thumb and forefinger. The tickle of stubble still seemed fresh in her mind, the warmth of the man’s amusement brushing against her battered and bruised knuckles.

     “Warrior of Light.”

     The voice had returned. Her gaze jerked upward, looking at the towering man, the point of his ears and the lilt of his words telling her that it had been no such dream. It had been his, at one point in time, the peach hue of his irises too unmistakable. He had been without his scar then, she thought, youthful, the sharpness of war yet to be on his features.

     But it had been him. The Echo rarely told her things that proved useless, she knew, but she wondered - for a glimmer of a moment, before the reality of her situation kicked in - what it had meant.

     He was not Garlean blooded, that much she knew. As her - his - memory faded, she fumbled with the blurry edges, desperate to remember more. Where had they been? What occasion had prompted such an Ishgardian-like greeting?

     (What - who - had he been before?)

[nymfaia]

okay, but ''everything is going to be okay'' kisses but it's Hien reassuring Cirina :3c

kiss details 🍑 accepting! 🍑 @domaheir

She had long since given up quantifying her exhaustion. It had begun in Ala Mhigo, the sheer amount of people and the palpable uncertainty in the room doing little to boost morale; it caught up to her after the infiltration on the sprawling imperial palace, when the truth of it all began to trickle down.

Had Cirina not been nearly kin with the Warrior of Light, she presumed she would still be blissfully, willfully ignorant. Others had given the woman space when she exited the building, her face pallid under the creased war paint - but when Alta stumbled and heaved into the brush, she couldn't simply have let it go.

She wished she had. Cirina prayed that her grandmother's visions had stayed vague and poetic while they were gone from the Steppe. No person deserved to imagine a man's father torn into pieces like a beast intended for supper, left to drown in corruption and unimaginable horror.

Every memory of the roars that echoed from the condemned tower - the thought of a human being chained and suffering to a point of no longer being human -

And then it kept happening. The radios sang of hope and the Garleans in camp, like unattended, weeping wounds, began to become just as their emperor, despair and doubt eating them alive.

She had not heard from Temulun, or Hien, her own despair and doubt a force to be fought. When her bones were weary and her arms shaking from the sheer amount of arrows loosed, her mind never relented. But Cirina did her best, pushing the thoughts as far into the recesses of her mind.

She couldn't have fear. Not if she wanted to stay alive.

The first day out of Garlemald gave her a spark of hope that only the sunshine could, bright and promising, and the boat back to Yanxia was a far calmer one - no doubt aided by the fact that she slipped away before Sadu or Magnai could see fit to join her.

Then she saw him, nearly shadowed by his samurai retainer and Yugiri, who's bright eyes found her long before Cirina had ever caught a glimpse of the Doman prince. The woman's pull on Gosetsu's sleeve went unnoticed. The quiet that took over the trio as she met Hien's gaze was wholly ignored.

Cirina had been sleeping in a threadbare bedroll for weeks, but the moment she was certain Hien was hale and whole, she ran. A rattling sob shook her shoulders as she collided with him, bundling the man in a grip even Gosetsu would have struggled to break.

"You're alright," she gasped. "You - you -"

"Are here," he promised. With a watery, relieved laugh, she nodded, weeks worth of anxiety forming a lump in her throat and making it difficult to speak.

The kisses he peppered onto her teary cheeks and the crown of her head were as soft as the ones she had left him with when she departed Yanxia: reassuring, careful. Chaste. Uncertain, even then.

The ones she returned were none of the sort. The xaela held his jaw in her hands as if he were made of fine porcelain and kissed him as if they didn't have an audience, her lips wet and her breath ragged.

"You're here," she agreed.

[nymfaia]

💋 :3c

kiss drabble / accepting pleeeease / @domaheir

     “Cherry? -- ...blossom. Hm.”

     Cirina hummed as she considered. Her mug of tea had been abandoned on the little table, wafts of ginger still rising from the ceramic cup. The sun was barely risen, the dark punctuated by the glowing lamps of the enclave and the little fire they had going.

     She had never been one to rise with the sun. Few of her people did - the Oronir were sons of the light, not the Mol. They had gazed upon the full moon’s beauty and used the night’s shield to hunt and gather, their morning fast breaking coming almost noon compared to others.

     But Hien was prompt, and she was beginning to think they would be, too.

     She tapped a nail against the cup, trying to reorganize her thoughts. Cirina didn’t think the steppe had cherry blossoms, struggling - and failing - to find a Xaelan word that was similar.

     “We have cherry bushes,” she said, voice soft and amused, “and... flowers - tsetseg. But not together.” She brought the mug to her lips, hiding the upturn of her mouth as she did so. Was he thinking of her colors? Her mother had been cherry-haired, she remembered. The warmth of her tea and the heat from the ginger was, slowly, beginning to lift her from her sleepiness.

     Cirina sat the teacup down. She pulled her legs out from under the tea table, crawling around the edge so that she sat at his side instead. The dawn was beginning to peek in through their windows, becoming a quiet observer on the prince and his lover’s affairs.

     She turned to face him, cupping her hands along his jaw, thumb easing over the scar on his cheek. The Mol, quiet and unassuming, had always flourished: there was something to be said for not wanting bloodshed. Flowers that weren’t trampled were able to bloom more each year.  They had as many babes in their tribe as they had lambs.

     The enclave had a handful of orphans that had survived the occupation, and they were thriving under the love and leadership of the community. Cirina had told many a tale about her homeland to them, of the wrestling and full-night celebrations, of their traditions and wiles. There weren’t any Xaelan children, but the Raen enjoyed the stories just the same, clambering to tell her how similar some of their fairytales were.

     And that had been more than enough for her. But the gods, the sun peeking into their windows, the moon watching their affections - had decided they needed more.

    “I want your ideas,” she said quietly. “I have heard and called many, many Xaelan names to the Mol children. I want to hear yours.”

     She leaned in, brushing her lips against his face - his forehead, the crooked bridge of his nose, his lips, his scar: more, more, more more.

     “Sakura is a start,” she whispered.

[nymfaia]

“you vex me.” P:

i’ve fallen in love with the enemy! 🍑 accepting bc i'm a goblin

      In another time - maybe she would have bartered. In another place, maybe she would have responded in kind, one vague statement with another, waltzing around meanings and intent like they were avoiding caltrops embedded in the snow.

     (Gods, how many of them had the Garleans used? She supposed it was a last resort for those still hunkered down in Tertium, when ceruleum scarcity meant they powered heaters and not combat units. She was sure there had to be some kind of walker able to detect and retrieve them - ... had they the means to power them yet. Even now, the conflict slowly smoothing over, a new spring coming to the winterland - their Chocobo were still finding them underfoot.)

     But Alta was not quite in a mood for banter. Her fractured horn from last visit was only now beginning to come together, encapsulated in a silver cover and hidden under both a hat and the fur-lined hood she wore. Her tail was tucked under the weight of her coat, the very end dipping into a leg of one of her boots to keep the limb warm.

    Not for the first time did her mind flicker to warmer climes, a huff of breath clouding the air ahead of her. Garleans, truly, were made of different stock. To be pushed out of the continent as a whole and still thrive here - ... was no small feat.

     “How?”

     The word was clipped. She took a step closer to the crackling fire, her hands flexing ahead of her. She had taken her gloves off to have a scalding hot mug of broth and dreaded trying to put them back on, the woolen fabric snagging on all the cracked, dry edges of the scales on her knuckles. Alta raised her gaze, eyebrows knitting above her barren features.

     Her jar of face paint had frozen solid overnight, the cold enough to permeate the leather bag where it sat on the floor beside the cot she used. She couldn’t have gotten the lid off if she had tried, anyroad, pursing her lips at the thought.

     “Vexing - ... how?”

     Out of all the things she had been called - ... Alta wasn’t sure quite what this one meant.

@magitekhearted

[nymfaia]

💋 (any muse you like :*)

Smooch meme 🍑 accepting! 🍑 @domaheir

"... do you think - ... she did it?"

Cirina's voice came in bursts, hesitant words plucked from depths of uncertainty. Her grandmother had never been wrong with her predictions before: some had been more obvious than others, skirting around truth and theatrical explanations that only gods could pass down. But she had never lied, and she had never been wrong, and it was a combination of both that kept Cirina awake even as the chronometer ticked by.

Hien's quarters didn't help things. The traditional futons were on the floor in such a way that they both could look out the window from where they laid, the moon bright and heavy with secrets. Her people worshipped the moon and sun gods - ... but even in the years before, Cirina couldn't remember gazing up in the sky as much as she had in the last few days.

It did not change. Whatever the Warrior of Light had been rumored to do - ... the moon told no secrets, glittering silently in the dark. Not for the first time did she wish she had inherited her grandmother's link with the gods.

Cirina fell quiet, curling into Hien's side under the heavy blankets. Have hope, Temulun had begged. Do not delve into despair, for it is a pit some are unable to climb out of.

(Cirina tried. But still it remained, a heavy knot in her stomach, and she wondered if Hien felt it, too. The fear of succumbing. Staring into the dark and begging it to stay still. Was she ... alone in this?)

Her hand skirted over his stomach, up over the thatch of dark hair on his chest. She grabbed his hand, pulling it until she could press her lips to his knuckles in the dark.

"... I hope she returns," she mumbled, fear trapped in the bubble of space between her mouth and his hand. "I - ... I hope."

[nymfaia]

[ TRAPPED ] one muse ends up staying the night with the other due to a storm (Trent/Claire)

archived prompt / @talesfantastic

"...sometimes," she said meekly, "I think the Goddess has a sense of humor."

A storm had not been on the radio's weather forecast for the afternoon. If it had been a sun shower during the midday, maybe Claire would have thought nothing of it, and simply enjoyed the reprieve from watering her plants as thoroughly. But this had blown in with little warning, the sky over the Mineral Town beach giving them just a peek of gray before the tropical storm let loose.

She must have had a sense of humor. After all - she could have waited for Trent to return home from his final assessment of her ankle. A blink of lightning and a roar of thunder had the little farmer nearly jump out of her skin, clapping her hand to her chest as she withdrew from looking out the window.

Claire shook her head, finally uncoiling the towel from around her shoulders and letting it drop into the laundry basket. Her first order of business had been to keep from dripping all over the floor after hauling herself inside, Trent in tow, but with a chill beginning to set in, she knew they would have to change clothes to keep from getting ill.

"At least," she attempted, "we were just outside... if you had started walking back to the clinic, you would've been in the rain a lot longer."

A silver lining in a storm cloud, maybe. The farmer drew in a breath, peering around her tiny home as she thought.

"I know they won't be a perfect fit, but - I do have sweatpants," she began, opening the single closet the home had and rummaging through folded clothes inside. "And - shirts. Lots of shirts. You can get changed, and I'll put on some tea, and then I can change, and maybe -..."

Another rumble, low enough that she could nearly feel it under her feet. Clearly, it had no intention of leaving the town any time soon.

"... we could make dinner?" she finished.

[nymfaia]

intertwining your fingers [bangs fists on the table gimme conri and cal!!]

100 small details. 🍑 accepting!  🍑  @blaackbiird / @draco-lupus

"Quiet."

"No, you quiet!"

Cal scoffed, making a show of pulling a loose Conri-colored strand of fur from his cheek and shaking it off over the side of the bed. The mattress sank beside him as the wolf-man squeezed his way between the pirate and the wall, frame squeaking loudly enough for the Ava to roll his eye.

He was truly lucky that the rest of their party was well aware of their companion's tossing and turning. Conri was lucky if he stayed within his own bedroll when camping - the noises coming from the single bed they were crowded into wouldn't cause much gossip.

Well. That was assuming the bear doing his lookout shift in the hallway hadn't heard their hissed conversation. How good was Middy's hearing, anyway?

With one final shove that had Cal cursing, Conri settled in. The two were hip-to-hip, and - finally - a quiet of sorts had blanketed them.

As with all things involving the half-lycan, it never lasted.

"Scoot over."

"Conri."

In the near dark, the oil lamp on the end table almost out with how low they had it set, Conri's eyes glowed luminescent. They were half-lidded, a lazy grin splitting his face where he wiggled closer.

A calloused hand snaked down Cal's wrist. It was a surprisingly... chaste gesture for him, Cal thought, gentle and understated. By the time he looked up, Conri had closed what little distance was left between them, his kiss half teeth and entirely eager in the dark.

"Middy'll hear us, you dog," Cal said.

"Let 'em," Conri sassed.

The huff of laughter that bubbled forth was swiftly silenced by a firm bear paw against the wall.

(Well, that solved the question of Middy's hearing once and for all.)

[nymfaia]

eidric experiments with tea blends and makes magnai taste test them

send your headcanons about my muses/our muse’s relationship, and I’ll react to them. / @blaackbiird

yesssss. magnai actually really enjoys unsweetened tea, and he's definitely not a conservative person - i can see him absolutely wanting to try all the foods and all the drinks, so new blends or different takes on things are always welcomed.

unfortunately (?) he doesn't have a very refined taste for things, so. if eidric wants good culinary feedback, magnai's not his guy. but he'll absolutely try all the things.

[nymfaia]

🤲

Make my muse tell their secrets 🍑 accepting! 🍑 @magitekhearted

"I - ... just wanted - ... I wish we had more time."

More time together, with his sword and shield at the ready, with snow collecting in his eyelashes and puffs of air billowing from his mouth with each broad swing of his weapon.

More time together, with his pleasant humming as she healed him afterwards, in the quiet of his chambers. As if it didn't burn like fire in his veins. As if she wasn't still learning and he had all the time in the world to spend next to her, mana curling into his wounds.

(More bells spent in the manor, their lips sweet from chocolate liqueur and bitter from the coffee he had poured it into, the breakfast he had brought her in bed long eaten as they skirted around dessert.)

"I - ... wish he had gotten to see Ishgard. After - ... everything. And the Firmament, and how well Francel has grown, and - ..."

Each other, just once more. Not as knight and warrior but simply themselves, duty abandoned, just for a moment, to savor the taste of humanity. Maybe if things had been different - ...

She tightened her hands into fists, shaking her head to clear away the daydream. Alta wished he had more time, but she also wished it was spent beside her, following stuffy Ishgardian courting traditions and finding a piece of solace away from the oaths they swore.

Things were not different. They simply were, his shield basking in the golden glow of dawn and her finger barren of a ring she had thought frivolous all those years ago.

"I'm - ... I'm sorry. Sometimes, when I'm here, I - I think I'm - back in Ishgard. And - ..."

She still looked for him, hundreds of sunrises later, for the glitter of chainmail and the contagious laughter that would lead her home.

[nymfaia]

“you’re trembling.” ( *bangs fists* cal and conri!!)

First time asks 🍑 accepting 🍑 @blaackbiird

"I am not trembling."

Cal had enough fire in his veins to ignite a campfire, blunt nails digging into the meat of Conri's shoulder as the half-beast dug into his own. Conri was mouthier than a teething hound, something the elf intended to tease him about after the haze of lust lifted from his mind.

It was difficult to complain about the teeth against his collar and throat when he couldn't form words, moans and half-lost calls of the man's name filling the space instead. Conri mouthed and bit and licked against Cal's flesh as if he were a man starved, tail thrashing behind him and his furry ears picking up every morsel of sound the elf made in reply.

Conri might have been starving, but Cal hadn't even realized he was allowed to be hungry in the first place. He had been gone from the Braixlands for nigh on a decade and hadn't allowed himself the indulgence since, uncertain how strangers would react to someone who was a man by name but not by body.

He had taken partners as who he used to be. Cal had yet to take one with who he had chosen to become, and now that the offer was on the table -

Yes, he shook, fire in his veins and lust thrumming in his ears. He opened his mouth to say something, to promise Conri that he wasn't scared or uncertain but simply overwhelmed by the affection he was bring given.

He had been so caught in his thoughts that he hadn't felt the man meander, adventuring lips and teeth marking his collar and sternum, until Conri wrapped his mouth around the peak of a breast. Fangs grazed and his tongue lapped and any soft platitudes on the elf's tongue turned into little more than a low, throaty sound.

He needed no one else to understand his choices. He had Conri, who saw his body and lavished it anyway, one bite at a time.

[nymfaia]

👌 and 💥 and maybe ❤️ too! (But only if you're okay with it, of course!)

shipping meme 🍑 accepting!

👌  PLATONIC

💥  ANTAGONISTIC

❤️  ROMANTIC

yes yes yes! a mix of the three! i'm here for the DRAMA. sorry mene & alta.

🍑 @magitekhearted

[nymfaia]

“you… have feelings for me?” (eidric @ magnai?? i wanna see the confession!!)

i’ve fallen in love with the enemy! 🍑 accepting bc i'm a goblin

"Feelings."

He tasted the word in his mouth, doing his best to enunciate it just as Eidric had. The Xaela had their own expressions for such a thing, of course, just as vague and smoky as this one, but in the moment he found he quite preferred the Eorzean take.

Feelings. It sounded gentle and kind and careful coming out of Eidric's mouth, the same caution curling the edges as a child dipping their toe into the Azim Khaat on a hot day. Magnai hummed, reaching up to fiddle with one of the braids brushing his collar.

"I do."

Because of course he did - how could he not? How could anyone have looked upon foreigner during the Nadaam, cheeks smeared with dirt and sweat sticking his hair to his neck - and thought otherwise?

"For once," he said, his tone flat, as if he weren't laying himself out for Azim to see whole and unashamed. "I lost the Nadaam - ... and did not grieve it. Your win was not something I could best. And I feel glad for you."

Eidric's win - Cirina's win, truly, he knew, if the pink-haired lamb weren't so demure and shy at the face of new power - had not come to him with a fire of fury or a downpour of disgust at himself and his brothers. It was another's victory, but he had felt the kindling of joy all the same. The soreness and bruises were not for nothing.

Eidric was not of the Steppe, but he was a warrior all the same - Magnai would not turn his nose up at his win. Not when it made him so unabashedly jubilant.

"Yes - I do. I'm not quite sure what I mean to do with them," he admitted, his words lowering from his usual loud bravado: the sun hiding behind clouds, a lamb trembling in the wind. "I - ... did not think my equal to be foreign, or of the same body. But the sun is not wont to cower at change, is it?"

@blaackbiird

[nymfaia]

💗 { art and emman abt luna :eyes: }

Send ‘💗‘ to find out what my muse truly thinks & feels about yours! Alternatively, send ‘💞‘ + a character’s name from their canon to find out how they feel about them. // @crownedveil

"A steadfast woman of the church with little to criticize. Lunafreya is - ... always committing herself to Halone. Unwaveringly so."

Artoirel fell silent, wrestling with the proper words he wished to say. She was without fault, he thought, both in the church and in her own beliefs - ... but it was not something the church was quite ready for.

"I - can only hope that, with time and change, the church will continue to evolve. Halone would not have one of Her children forgo life's pleasures in her name. That much I believe. I think - ... Lunafreya can be both devout and whom she pleases, and that living as she wants to not run perpendicular to Halone's beliefs."

Emmanellain's voice tumbled out of his mouth like an avalanche, picking up speed without quite realizing how quickly he did so.

"She's very pretty. I think - she's probably more invested in the church than most of us pretend to be. But she always seems - ... a little sad."

[nymfaia]

✋ colleagues ( for claire and sasuke! i'd love to get them interacting again! no rush though!

relationship meme / accepting!

my hands are open and willing, i need them to be farmer buds again

[nymfaia]

❝ i, um…i missed you. ❞ CharLi pls

    

“Missed me?”

     Charlie’s voice nearly cracked with how swiftly the words rose from her throat, warbling uncertainly where she stood in the doorway to her apartment. The sky was nearly dusk behind her guest, the golden glow wrapping around the slope of his shoulders and glittering in the dark strands of his hair. He reached up, a plastic bag in each hand, and awkwardly rubbed at the tip of his nose.

      “Out of everything you could have missed,” she began, stepping out of his way so Li could come into her apartment, “in the past few days - it was me?”

     Disbelief, doubt, embarrassment - they all fumbled about in her words. The door squeaked as she closed it behind him, swiftly toeing her shoes from entryway to give the man space to remove his own. Maybe she would have cleaned up a little bit, had she known he was coming, elevating her slovenly space from a cesspool of strewn-about things to ... something more homely. Dusk peeked in through her windows, judging the blanket that had gone above and beyond the back of her couch to nearly settle on the floor, the overfull trashcan in her kitchen, the open door to her bathroom with her hair products and make-up strewn chaotically across the sink.

     She could hide that, at least, swiftly pulling the door shut. Charlie drew in a long breath, only now becoming aware of the mouth-watering smell of take-out.

     He had brought take-out. The health nut had brought take-out. And it smelled amazing.

     “Wow. You really must have been feeling bad - is this from Green Dragon?”

     Without prompting, she took the bags from his hands, going into the kitchen and beginning to dig into the loot he had brought. It only took her a few moments of excited shuffling for her to see past the distraction he had intended, the crinkling of plastic falling quiet.

     “... are you okay? For real? Was the conference that awful?”

🍑 @bestninjaclub