#and then he’s very attached to G’raha Tia

[midnightwind]

half considering making a side blog for my warrior of light to toss all my little half formed headcanons onto, but I barely have any of those and social interaction makes my anxiety implode

[dainesanddaffodils]

Ya girl has finished Shadowbringers! and I have feelings! and my lizard also has Feelings! (though not as many on the denizens of the First as you might think; she spent her entire time there Ready to Leave so she didn't allow herself to get super attached to the people. She cared about them but in a more blanket sense)

Thoughts post-ARR | Thoughts post-Heavensward | Thoughts post-Stormblood

Without further ado - Cimorene Greystone’s Post-Shadowbringers Relationship Vibes

Ardbert - Not Romantic, Not Platonic but a Secret Third Thing (her Literal Soul Mate). but like, it cannot be overstate that she felt that way about him before she even learned that he was her literal! soul! mate! All this to say she loved him. She loved him deeply and going forward she will sometimes talk to ‘him’ when talking to herself and will find solace in his 'presence' when she's at her lowest.

Emet-Selch - where to fucking begin? She doesn't like him. She doesn't hate him. She'd been having dreams about him for months before she even knew he existed. She didn't trust him. She believes every word he said was true. He absolutely disgusted her. On more than one occasion he made her laugh. His shade rescuing her made her cry. She wanted nothing to do with him. She wanted him to find peace. She’s glad he’s gone. She Will Remember Him.

Crystal Exarch/G’raha Tia - so she'd never been particularly close to G'raha beforehand and was deliberately keeping distant from the Exarch because she never fully trusted him so like, by the end she understood what he was doing and wanted him to live, but it was never Personal, you know? In a... not unlike Emet-Selch way, more than anything she just wants him to find peace and she's glad that he's gonna get to have His Own Life (but also she doesn't like you that way buddy I'm so sorry)

Alphinaud - I know I sound like a broken record in these but I cannot stress enough how much he is THE dearest person to Cimorene. she cares about him so much, she leans on him so much and trusts him to lean on her when he needs it, and watching him continue to grow makes her So Emotional. they are Family.

Alisaie - loves her v much but they are also so so so alike in how they process trauma sometimes to the point that she feels she can’t do anything other than say ‘Same’ when Alisaie is going through it. thankfully that’s really all Alisaie would want from her, and all she wants in return. in that, they are also Family.

Thancred - he and Cimorene have finally gotten past the ‘you must be level 5 friend to unlock my trauma’ barrier (from both parties) and are actually friends! not the closest friends but do genuinely care about each other beyond just Scion coworkers now

Ryne - sweet baby girl!! Cimorene isn’t very good with kids but she felt very protective of Ryne and loved watching her grow in confidence and into herself. She deserves the world.

Urianger - she knows he has the best intentions and interests and means well and there are even times she has friendly thoughts towards him but his inability to go more than like a day without keeping some new secret from her means Cimorene will never feel truly comfortable around him

Y’Shtola - Bestie. A Real One. Cimorene trusts and respects her so much that she genuinely had no fear when her obligatory expansion death scare happened (though she was relieved to have her back). If no one else got her, she knows Y'Shtola has got her, and that means so much to her.

Elidibus - man, he was the only ascian (prior to emet-selch) that she’d had any real personal feelings toward. That feeling had been hatred. Shit has obviously changed there and she’s been left feeling a lot of complicated things. If she thinks about him too long she feels both very sad and kind of sick.

Hythlodaeus - 10/10 man(?) of all time. Cimorene immediately clocked that he mattered to her. or rather. to the previous her. and it's the first time that thinking about her previous self wasn't a weird and uncomfortable feeling for her. she's not 100% sure what to make of that yet but she'll keep thoughts of him close as she goes on

Estinien - had her proper fanfic love realization 'oh' moment when he made an ass out of himself in front of Alisaie, and then everything he said and did for the rest of the patch-end of game just made her fall harder. She's in deep for this grumpy idiot, guys. (Jury is still out on if they smooched immediately post-patches but like, Cimorene WANTS to, so bad)

Fandaniel - so the last time Cimorene said 'oh thank the gods someone I can just hate in an entirely uncomplicated way' it turned out to be Elidibus so like... she's trying not to do that again but it's hard when you have the face of the man she hated more than anyone and have allied yourself with the other guy she has the least complicated amount of hate toward. but nothing is ever that easy for her, right?

And that’s it for now but hey I’m in Endwalker now. Holy fucking shit, right?

[astraveil]

i have way too many thoughts in my head about the end of shadowbringers, so it’s all getting dumped into one big post I HOPE YOU’RE PREPARED (spoilers for 5.0)

-----

first off, AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

okay now that the screaming is out of the way, let me just say this.

This is one of the best stories in a video game I've ever witnessed.

you can just FEEL the love and effort that went into every aspect of shadowbringers. from the story, the music, the voice acting, all of it is simply captivating and truly something special and absolutely horrifying in places in equal measure. I fell in love with the First from...well, the first. heh.

-----

okay now down to specifics.

i love the entire atmosphere of the crystarium. it feels like a home away from home, in a way that i sincerely appreciate.

i love just how strong the relationship between the wol and the scions is portrayed, even stronger still in fanworks and lore tidbits from other people’s journeys and characters. i don’t think i’ve ever been so attached to a group like this since srtogs: endless frontier’s little motley crew worked their way into my heart all those years ago lol

speaking of attached, holy shit crystal exarch/g’raha tia my beloved little catboy

the section where your wol is getting nearly consumed by the light engulfing them, and the exarch goes and tries to sacrifice himself and you can CALL HIM BY HIS NAME. FUCK.

i sat here for a good 15 seconds. i almost cried. g’raha what have you done to me

oh yeah and then he gets shot; right then and there, i wanted emet dead, and GOD DAMN WAS THE BUILDUP TO THAT EVENTUAL FIGHT SO SATISFYING.

ardbert and feo ul giving astra a pep talk was super cute and much needed too

amaurot? heartbreaking, the music so beautifully weaved into the tapestry of tragedy that the area holds. it was stunning. and very good for pictures.

but then. OOOOOOOH BUT THEN

THE BUILDUP. THE DUNGEON. THE SPEECH? FLAWLESS.

i loved every minute of it. even working my way up to the fight against hades itself was incredible, helped along by the amazing party that joined me through PF (my first time using it, too!) we were vibing. we were chatting it up about the cutscene earlier with ardbert. it was awesome.

we were fucking ready.

and i was ready to take more pictures because holy shit, that setpiece

it was a hard-won battle. i didn’t die at all, that was pretty cool. but we did it. astra saved the first and her new cat-boyfriend and also made him cry, totally not on purpose i promise

5.0 was done, and it was an emotional, incredible fucking ride from start to finish. probably my favorite gaming experience of the year, and i did it all within a month’s time.

i’ve got a new ship out of it, too. thanks g’raha.

Now, onward.

[krishna-arun]

Lore Workshop

Mostly just to look at while I figure out what’s staying, getting reworked, expanded on, and so on (no the Sin Eater doesn’t have a proper name yet because the naming conventions for the Wardens was Whack)

Ascian Counterpart:

Hecate - goddess of magic and necromancy; crossroads, entrance-ways, night, light, magic, witchcraft, the Moon, knowledge of herbs and poisonous plants, graves, ghosts, necromancy, and sorcery

Worked in Elpis developing concepts before taking the seat of Azem to gain a better understanding of the world they were making things for. Gender fluid, using he/she/they though among the trio mostly went by they. Venat was one of the few able to keep up with them. A gremlin menace who would workshop their spell concepts anywhere, including around others in the city. Was notoriously bad at resting, spending every waking moment researching, developing, and bothering Hades and Hythlodaeus.

Primal Counterpart:

Merikh the Void Mourner

A voidsent-like being bent on keeping the things he treasured safe whether said things want to be kept or not.

Primal transformation triggered after they lose too many companions, overwhelmed by grief and helplessness

Collection of bottles with people and treasures strapped and tied all over him, or does he pin them into a large book? Could have the souls leaking out between the pages like little ghostie goos

Big fluffer tail(s?)

His casting staff double as a great sword for that slick black mage dark knight duality

Black sclera and pitch tears, though in phase one seems more gleefully manic than anything

Phase two has him begging the players to stop fighting before they too disappear, pleading for them to join his collection and be safe

Mechanics have him swapping between staff and sword modes

Sin Eater Counterpart:

Phase 1: Eternal Life

Mouth covered by wings, bleeding light, a shambling corpse of a heavenly knight riddled with weapons, dragging a great sword behind them, repeats “kill” over and over, jerking almost reluctant movements when he attacks, has a cracked core acting as a heart, begs for death right before phase change

Phase 2: Eternal Spirit

Puppet master guiding the heavenly knight, wings covering their eyes, many hands to pull the strings, looms above the field, body covered by sets of wings, traps the knight in their chest for the remainder of the fight, the knight will claw his way out, reaching for the players and becomes a weak spot to dish out damage to like Shinryu’s heart, calls down the heavens as attacks

The Tumblr Tags: (I spoke about this on my main blog lol)

#their Ancient counterpart was Hecate who was very genderfluid and caused so much trouble workshopping new magic around people #their shard from the void managed to latch onto them as a baby when they cast magic for the first time near a tear and later #it manifests as their Esteem/Inner Darkness #their canon jobs are Black Mage and Dark Knight but they’ve dabbled in Astrologer Reaper and Ninja #Reaper left them feeling a very Wrong connection to the void so they only resort to that power when extremely put out #Krishna uses he/they pronouns! #I’m a little put off shipping an OC with a npc for some reason #but if I had to pick canon ships for him he would have a passing fling with Aymeric whenever they both have the time #and then he’s very attached to G’raha Tia #he had strained relations with the Scions for a long time when he first started adventuring but they are more like family now #the twins are his little siblings and he will maim anyone for them #he gave himself the scar over his eye during training for Ninja and the void magic lashed out to fix it #hence the one purple eye #he can still kind of see out of it but it’s actually better for tracing void magic and detecting tears now than actual sight #he was raised by his aunt Manvah in Ul’dah but born in the forests of Gridania by Quarrymill

[crystalbahamut]

the upper hand

FFXIV Write Day 8: Adroit

Summary: G’raha is good with his hands. You don’t know what to do about how that affects you.

Warnings: set sometime during Crystal Tower questline, unspecified/ambiguous WoL, getting thirsty over hands, 2nd person, G’raha Tia/WoL

Words: 1,162

    ---

Your first impression of one G’raha Tia was…not exceptional, to say the least.

Now that you’re some days removed from it you can admit the whole thing was amusing. He is one of the more dramatic personalities you’ve met but at least he seems fairly harmless, and the way he gets excited over this Allagan stuff is sort of endearing. You may be the odd one out on this expedition, only really here to fight and create a path for the researchers, but G’raha is friendly and doesn’t talk down to you, so you can forgive him his eccentricities.

Though when an arrow shoots right into the one you had had a mind to retrieve, you sigh and wonder if you should reassess that.

“A wonderful performance, my friend,” G’raha says cheerfully as he walks up to you. “I couldn’t help but join in.”

“Do you think you can join in without ruining my arrows?” you ask lightly.

“I could agree to those terms,” he says with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Well, if G’raha intends to join in you should probably clear the target of your ammo, if only to keep him from more enticing targets that will leave you gathering and crafting for a few days. Just as you go to take the first arrow out he’s suddenly at your side, proclaiming, “Allow me,” and moving his hand past yours to grip and pull.

It is at this point you realize G’raha has…very nice hands. His fingers are long and thick, he has calluses from years of obvious work, and the muscles in his hand flex as he grips and pulls, his palm big enough and fingers long enough to cover nearly half of the sha–

“Is something wrong?” G’raha asks, suddenly concerned as he tilts his head to one side and flicks his ears back in concern.

“Ah, just…thought of something,” you say, rather pathetically and turn your head away.

But you can’t stop thinking about them, mostly because you can’t stop seeing them. He is elegantly adroit with a bow, of course, but he’s just as skillful with a number of instruments, as you learn while huddled around the campfire. At least then you have an excuse to watch his hands, but you share a tent with the man and your…growing infatuation with him, you’re not too proud to admit (to yourself), is beginning to wear you down. He’s cheerful and even when he pouts he makes you want to smile and when he gets excited it’s just about the most charming thing you’ve seen.

But gods, he also whittles wood, invites you to watch him play the lute a couple of times (“watch the strings here,” he says, as though you can look anywhere else), and even when you try to distract him from your odd behavior by setting him off on a tangent about the Allagan empire he’s one of those people that talks with his hands, throwing them open and to and fro until you have to stare at a fixed point in the center of his forehead just to get through with some dignity.

But it comes to a point one night when he, drunk, offers to show you something interesting. “I read about it once,” he says, because of course he has. “A form of fortune-telling where one’s future can be divined by reading the lines in their hands. Let me show you?”

You freeze, wondering what’s with this all of a sudden, but he doesn’t wait for you to finish stammering and takes your hand in both of his. It’s…a nice place to be, even if he’s only playing; his thumbs run up the sides of your hands briefly and he leans in close to you as the pad of his index finger runs along the largest line in your palm as he murmurs softly. Something about heart lines; you aren’t really paying attention to the words so much when he starts pressing his thumbs into your flesh as he moves them up and down– he’s massaging them, you realize too late before you let out a little moan.

“Are you all right, my friend?” he asks, and the light from the fire gleams in his blue eye as his mouth curls into an impossibly pleasing smirk that makes you want to lean in and–

You jump up, sputter some reassurances about how you are just fine, wonderful even, and then quickly run back to your tent.

A few nights later you return from a bit of scouting to the sound of G’raha hissing in pain and trying to balance a medical kit on his knees while he frowns at the backs of his hands. “What happened?” you ask and he jumps and nearly sets everything to crash on the ground. He looks at you with a moment of panic, looks at the medical kit, looks at you, and before he can start to lie you cross your arms and look at him sternly. “G’raha.”

He sighs heavily and pouts. “I got in a scuffle,” he admits as you come over to investigate. His face seems unblemished and his clothing isn’t torn, but his hands are rough, with nearly every knuckle bearing an abrasion, if not split open entirely. “I won, but the fighting was a bit more close quarters than I would have preferred.”

“I see,” you say and kneel in front of him. He makes a small sound, like he might refuse, but the words don’t follow so you set the kit beside you on the floor, turn his hands over to focus, and start treating them with cleanser before you get the ointment. You don’t realize, though, until you’re wrapping the bandages that he’s gone very quiet, and once you finish tying the last one off you look up at him to see his face is nearly as red as his hair. “G’raha? What’s wrong? Are they too tight?”

He swallows visibly and shakes his head. “N-no, they’re fine,” he says haltingly. “You are…very good with your hands, my friend.”

It’s a light jest on the surface, but there’s an undercurrent there that you– oh. Oh.

“Am I?” You look at your hands. They’re not really anything special to your eyes– certainly not like G’raha’s– but as you turn them this way and that you catch a glimpse of G’raha watching them with what could only be desire.

You carefully take one of his hands in both of yours, minding his injuries, and gently pull it towards you as you lean in to place a kiss at the very base of his palm. He gasps and you look up at him with a smile. “I’ve liked yours for a while.”

His eyes are wide and his tail thrashes behind him, and suddenly you’re on your back with a hungry miqo’te attached to your lips.

Even injured, G’raha is exceptionally good with his hands.

And apparently, you are too.

[whitherliliesbloom]

lights, camera, duty commenced!

[ ffxivwrite2021 ] ★ [ masterlist ] ★ [ prompt #14 - commend ]

[ illya, g’raha & emet ] ★ [ 2,263 words ]  ★ [ actors au ]  passing mention of some friend’s ocs and illyanaud

commend: praise formally or officially

behind the scenes of the critically acclaimed long running tv show, final fantasy fourteen, g’raha tia is (almost) inconsolable after he reads the final act’s script

The not-so everlasting light shining down feels radiant and warm, but not scorching. In the distance, one can hear the push and pull of the tides from the nearby lake, as well as the rustling of the purple hued leaves that hung and swayed ever so gently upon the trees. A light baby blue canvas with dusty cotton candy clouds crowns lakeland, painting the perfect, serene vista for an uneventful day of shooting.

Though, Illya has to remind herself, as she looks up at the peaceful sky, and sighs in contentment that she was in the completely wrong headspace. Even though the sky above was bright and undoubtedly beautiful on this fine afternoon, she knows that all it takes is for a little bit of compuer-generated television effects magic to turn the tranquil landscape into a scene of naught but utter devastation and war.

Think termination. Think termination. You’re in the middle of a large-scale battle between Elidibus and the people of Norvrandt. The tone’s supposed to be somber and tense. You’re the warrior of darkness. You got this!

“Oh.... How could this be...?”

Her train of thought is rudely interrupted by the sorrowful moping of her co-actor, and she has to resist the urge to chide him for dragging his early morning sulking all the way into the afternoon. 

“G’raha, please...” the lalafellin sighs, though cannot help but to let a sliver of sympathy slip into her tone. “The next scene’s starting soon.”

“I know, I know... But...” the man heaves a heavy sigh, hanging his head low and letting his arms drop onto his lap so dramatically she’d almost thought that his flesh really was made of crystal and wasn’t just a product of the hard work of extremely talented make-up artists. “I can’t help it. I can’t believe that my poor crystal exarch is-”

Illya can say she at least empathizes - though perhaps not to the same extent. She’s been casted into roles of characters who would meet an unfortunate demise later, but to be fair, they weren’t often major characters within the narrative of the show or film she was playing a role in. 

The crystal exarch on the other hand, has played a key role as one of the many recurring supporting casts in the show. He’d lingered in the background as early as the first season, and was, to G’raha’s jubilation, finally given a main role in the fourth season they were filming. 

Only to be killed off in the final act - succumbing to the crystallization of his entire body, from head to toe, in the throne room of the crystal tower after the warrior of darkness’ battle with the ascian Elidibus. His death scene was to be an emotionally poignant one... and Illya herself has spent the last few days getting into the headspace of the protagonist - who would understandably be utterly devastated by the loss of a dear friend. 

It didn’t help that the crystal exarch was a considerably popular character within the international community of fans - and his significant increase in screen time was due in part to fan demands... though that perhaps made his long foreshadowed death even more of a cruel irony. 

And there was nobody in the world who was a bigger fan of the crystal exarch than the actor who played him himself. It wasn’t narcissistic either, in their line of work, it’s easy to get attached to the roles they play... even more so when they’ve hovered within the headspace of their character for as long as 6 years - she would know, Liliya Liya is as big a part of her as the crystal exarch is for G’raha now.

Thus, though she felt the urgent need to get G’raha back up on his feet in preparation for the remaining scenes on their schedule to film... she could not bring herself to so callously talk down his very real and personal attachment of a character he was meant to portray well anyways. 

“Oh come now... you should’ve seen this coming.” with a swagger in his step and lazy grin plastered over his expression, Emet Selch strolls over to the pair.... far too comfortable within his own role that he was speaking with Hades’ signature slur in his speech even while out of character. The man has always noted just how similar he was to the god of the underworld, and Illya wouldn’t be surprised if he’d claimed to not even be acting in his scenes at all.

“I...” G’raha pouts, looking up at Emet as his ears flatten atop his head. “I guess I was in denial of it. I thought they would maybe subvert expectations... but-”

“But that wouldn’t be a very compelling story to tell, now would it?” The older man shrugs, and Illya regrets to think that she’s inclined to agree. 

“I guess not..” 

The robed miqo’te man sighs, and she notes with an amused raise of an eyebrow as his tail that had once been tucked tightly to his side was now swiveling from side to side and puffed up in annoyance.

“Still! They could at least let him go out with more of a bang! Maybe... after he has a solo action scene... or give him a kiss scene to make things more dramatic!”

“Is defeating the big bad and saving the heroine not dramatic enough for you, already?” Emet’s voice is in part mocking as it is exasperated, his arms thrown up to his shoulders in a shrug. “Also I hope you didn’t mean a kiss scene with Liliya.”

“W-what-?? I-” Illya’s mouth hangs agape. 

“No! I wasn’t thinking anyone in particular, honest. Besides, she’s already caught in that love triangle subplot with the twins, isn’t she?” 

At the mention of the topic, the lalafellin woman’s smile fades.

“D-don’t remind me of that. I’m really not looking forward to acting those scenes out.” 

She’s already read the script for the fourth season in it’s entirety... and though she has incredible respect for the masterful writing and the wonderful character dynamics that has only gotten better with each passing season... she has never been... entirely comfortable with the romantic aspects of the scenes involving the elven twins. Scenes of the pair vying for her attention, scenes where she held hands and even got unsettingly close to kissing them... 

Though, she will admit... her own uncertainty over her competence in filming those scenes are a result of her own, very personal emotions... something of which Emet Selch seemed to be more than aware of.

“Is it not because you harbor actual feelings for one of them? Would having scenes of you being close to him not be a blessing for you, then?”

The miffed glare Illya’s shoots up at Emet rivals moments of shadow possession Liliya experiences throughout the show, and he can only shrug with a cocky grin as her star-spangled swirl with indignation. Anger aside, heat is spreading across her cheeks in the form of a burning red hue that reaches the tips of her short, pointed ears.

Please stop. 

Her expression spells out. She’s as annoyed as she her frightened about something.

Oh dear. 

“Relax. Workplace romance here is nothing new.” His words only serve to worsen the already infuriated gleam in her blazing, shimmering eyes. “Mint certainly isn’t shy when it comes to showing she’s in a relationship with Estinien. Nor your friend Laurelis for that matter. She’s still keeping in touch with Haurchefant, no?”

Illya doesn’t say anything, but her silence and the paling of her complexion speaks louder than any words she can spill from her lips. 

It’s precisely because he doesn’t know. So please, please shut your mouth.

He still cannot understand why on earth she would stay so adamant about keeping her feelings a secret anyway. For all he knows, the entire cast of actors... and the whole final fantasy crew for that matter, was fully aware of their pining - and Illya’s feelings towards her close co-worker and friend wasn’t unrequited either. 

Just like in the show, the pair are completely oblivious to their attraction to one another... something he’ll just have to fix with his bare hands then... 

But the matter is neither here nor there, and there was something of greater urgency to rectify now. 

Emet Selch turns his gaze back down to G’raha, who has gone uncharacteristically quiet... and sensing his seriousness, Illya too diverts her attention back to the sulking redhead. 

“You know... you’re a very talented actor. It’s so very rare to find someone who can capture the emotions and nuances of a character as well as you do.” Emet is the faster of them to speak, and Illya can barely believe the words she’s hearing leave his lips. 

Compliments and praise, genuine ones at that, coming from one of the cast’s eldest, most experienced actor who is not only known to be critical when it comes to the art of acting - but is a certified acting coach himself? The monumental honor is not lost to G’raha, as his ears perk up and he whips his head up with widened ruby eyes to look at Emet.

“Death is difficult to portray - dare I say, almost impossible. After all, how can we, who have never experienced death... truly capture the sorrow and despair in it?”

Emet Selch pauses, drawing in a breath before he lifts his hand up to gesture at the pair before him.

“Which is why this is your biggest opportunity to showcase your talents, to move the audience with not just the story, but your very acting! The only thing we can do, as men and women of this field, is to act as vehicles and carry the emotions of the story into the hearts of the fans.”

The man finally sighs, shoulders falling and arms flopping lazily to his side, the sentimentality of the words he just spoke tasting bitter on his tongue.

“Besides, even in death there is a beauty. The crystal exarch lived his life fulfilled and having realized his wish at the end. I expect you to remember that when you eventually see him off.”

There’s a silence that hangs and festers in the air for a moment, before the fur on G’raha’s tail stands and his chest puffs up in a show of renewed determination.

“Y-you’re right, Emet! The crystal exarch dedicated his life to finding a way to save others... There is no better way to end his legacy than to see the world he’s protected for so long finally saved!” 

Standing onto his feet, the miqo’te clenches his hands into fists and nods before casting a glance down at Illya.

“Illya! I will act my heart out to the best I can! I’ll act so hard that I’ll make you cry on set for sure!”

The corners of her lip tugs upwards into a wide smile, glowing as the afternoon sun basks down and reflects upon her snowy white hair and the blossoms of her amethyst eyes. Even with the black of the garments she wore and the eastern patterned ribbon that held the braid around her head in place, she was luminous and blinding in her radiant presence... not unlike the heroine of their story.

“Of course! And I’m sure the rest of the crystal exarch fan club will too when they watch that episode.” 

“Illya, G’raha!” A pink haired lalafellin calls out to them from a distance away, her olive green eyes wide and excited as she waves her hands high above her head. A raven haired man stands just behind her, his dark blue eyes narrowed as he reviews the script in his hands intently. “We’re starting soon! Get over here!”

“Coming! Just give us a second!” G’raha waves back with a grin before turning back to look at Emet Selch with an apologetic, yet grateful bow, his relaxed tail swaying gently from side to side behind his back. 

“Thank you, Emet. I won’t soon forget your encouragements. I’ll do my best and make sure to not let everyone down.”

“Yes, yes. Spare me the nauseating mush. I was just making sure you didn’t drag your co-actor down with your sulking.” 

The elder man now glances at the starry eyed girl with amusement flashing through his expression, and Illya can already feel her earlier lighthearted elation fade as quickly as it came. 

“By the way... I’m sure if you asked Yoshida properly.. he’d be willing to consider writing in a kiss scene with Liliya and-”

“If I were the warrior of darkness, I’d take my crescent moon cane and stab you with the end of it......”

------

Meanwhile, a little distance away from the trio, Kaye lets out a low hum as he reads and re-reads the words upon the small stacks of paper he held, expression doubtful and confused.

“You sure this is the script to Endwalker?”

“Yeah, I am! Alphinaud gave this copy and said that he got from miss Ishikawa directly! Apparently he’s playing another major role in the next season, which is why he got the script early as a heads up.”

“But... it says here that the crystal exarch gets reincarnated? Assuming that’s not gonna be changed... that means G’raha’s gonna be...”

Kaye’s head lifts and turns, eyes wide and brows furrowing in bemusement only to see an impish smile glimmer upon Lily’s face.

“Should we tell him?”

“Hm...? Nah... He’s gonna film the exarch’s death scene soon, right? I’m sure he’ll appreciate the little surprise later, anyways.”

[crystalsexarch]

Seventeen: Destruct - E

He has seen her do terrible, extraordinary things. Were she anyone but the Warrior of Light, they would surely call for her destruction.

He's also seen her masturbate.

-

Ambiguous female WoL. G'raha Tia has figured out where the Warrior of Light takes time for herself. He decides to take some time for himself, too.

Also on AO3.

Part of the 2021 FFXIV Writing Challenge

He has seen her do terrible, extraordinary things. Were she anyone but the Warrior of Light, they would surely call for her destruction.

Within a week of her appearance at the find, G'raha Tia came to associate acts of great violence with a devilish laugh. Where others might've warded unruly hippogryphs away, she punished them at the call of a cackle and a leap of faith. He'd seen her fell ten enemies with a single slash, burgeoning with aether. He’d seen her rocket through the air like a fiendish fireball, bloody lance in hand. He’d seen her rend and cleave and kill and—

He'd also seen her masturbate.

The first time, he thought he was hallucinating. He was walking along the lakeside, picking up pretty rocks when he saw something like a siren reclining on a mound of water-worn stone. She wasn’t wearing her armor, nor her trademark helmet. In fact, her trousers had been tugged off of one leg entirely to hang at the side. At first his tail whipped with fearful suspicion—was she in danger? Was she hurt? And then he saw the rough rhythm of her fingers up and down between her legs.

All his breath left his body, along with the bulk of his balance. By some miracle he stayed on his feet and kept himself from combusting on the spot. She was smiling! Not a care in the world, bare and unabashed! Once G'raha got his footing, he wandered back the way he came, somehow making it to his tent without anyone noticing the shapely outline at his groin. There was only one reasonable way to get rid of it, and he did so with just a few quick strokes and a well-placed tissue.

It would be misleading to say G’raha simply stumbled upon her again. By then he’d probably jacked off more than half a dozen times and driven himself half mad in so doing. With every orgasm, his fantasy went further; his lips on her nipples, her hand groping his cock, his cum filling her cunt. Each night he would finish, sweaty, panting, and wide-eyed. He would stare at the floor and wonder how he might excise this profoundly unprofessional attachment. For a while, his accidental obsession plagued him even more than his headaches. He started taking walks again. And he tended toward a certain path.

One day, he passed the stone where he’d first seen her working for her pleasure. Her spot was empty. Feeling both relief and disappointment, he kept walking and kicked a few pieces of driftwood on the way.

On his way back, however, her half-naked form once again occupied the area. She had her knees up and her legs spread wide. From his spot around the corner, he couldn't see her hole but he could hear it, slick and wet as she fucked it with her fingers. Without thinking, he gripped his filling cock through the fabric of his trousers and squeezed. The wanting, the aching was so painfully immediate. He was doomed to come the moment he felt the warmth of his own hands and imagined how much warmer her body might feel around him.

Shamed, he waited for her to leave before making the solemn trip back to camp that time. Laundry day came early.

A wise man would've chosen a different walking path or changed his habits. G'raha needed to spend more effort on tomes and relics, but every time he settled into his tent, his red eye would ache like an icepick. The walks gave him temporary solace, the stones he found made pretty souvenirs, and the sights he collected? They made compelling memories, selfish as he was for indulging in them every night and morning.

But he could be a selfish man. He could be bold. The third time he saw her at the rock, he walked right out into the open, right into her line of sight, like he was confronting some ancient enemy. He knew very well she could kill him if she wanted to, but he had the most uncanny feeling that destiny wouldn't want to find a substitute to fill his role. He had a feeling he’d survive the encounter.

Her hand came to a gentle stop between her thighs. She didn’t say a word, but she did look at him at least. With a single eyebrow raised, she seemed more like a bored adventurer than a deadly dragoon. Something about the slightest quirk of her lips—something haunting in the electric shade of her eyes suggested words that went unspoken: well? And?

He looked to the lake for a moment, then rectified his mistake; this was suddenly a game of wills, and he didn't want to blink. He fingered his belt buckle and shifted his weight, trying to remember what confidence tasted like.

It probably tasted like her. When he reaffirmed his intent to gaze upon her nearly naked body, her little sneer grew twice as mischievous. She shuffled on the rock and spread her legs again, made her hips even with his across the way. For the first time he had a perfect view of her opening, glistening and swollen.

He wanted more than anything to pump her to completion. She was a hero, sure, but she had an emptiness he was capable of filling The proof was yalms ahead, pulsing before his very eyes. If only it could pulse beneath his fingers or around his cock. If she was letting him look, would she let him get away with more someday? In the heat of the moment, he thought it was a worthy gamble.

So he lost the belt. Just undid it and ripped it from the loops, tossed it aside. He wanted to look calm and confident for the next steps, so he took a deep breath before going for the fly of his pants. It was a bit like showing off, this act, so he slipped his cock out with a little twist of his tail and a loose, casual stroke. As if this weren't a big deal. As if this weren't the hardest his heart had ever pounded outside of direct mortal peril. Fully on display, he didn’t think he had anything to be ashamed of. He prayed he didn’t have anything to be ashamed of.

She narrowed her eyes and waited for him to stop moving. Only then did she let her gaze drop to his chest, his waist, beyond. Whatever she saw, it didn’t keep her from smiling, nor from hooking a finger between her lips and plucking upwards.

G’raha exhaled, his mouth holding a circle. He had his dick out in the middle of the shore, shaft hard and slit pointed skyward, but hells if he didn’t feel good about it. He might not have been a predator, but he didn’t think he passed for prey either. As she thumbed her clit, he dropped to a squatting position and tugged at his cock a few times, wondering whether words might ruin the moment.

What would he say? Let me handle that or let me fuck you. Let me finish inside. He could see it so plainly in his mind’s eye, the sight of her dripping with white and still not full enough for satisfaction. Let me breed you, came one especially foolish impulse. Primal, rooted deep in biology. And yet he felt it in his balls. He curled a fist around his base and steeled himself against the need to spill that very instant.

He survived long enough to keep stroking. She rubbed herself faster.

From there he moved so slowly, like he was trying to notch a silent arrow before a seldom-seen beast. She paid him almost no mind at all, fingering herself the same way she had before he came out of the shadows. He watched with every part of his body, cock coaxed to full length and attentive. As she spread herself with one hand and fucked herself with the other, he dabbed at the precum building at his head and slicked it down his length as best he could.

He wanted so badly to watch her come first. He'd made it so far without coloring the shore with his seed. Maybe he should've called himself lucky and gone into premature bliss with a smile on his face, but instead he whined and twisted his lips at the first unhappy spurt of cum. The jerk of his hips was ugly, strong enough to send him lurching forward. He placed his free hand on the ground to keep himself from toppling over completely. Stroking out the last of his release, his head darted up to check her reaction.

Well, he might not've been smiling, but she certainly was.

When she came moments later, she raised herself up on her heels and rocked into the curl of her hand, feverishly flicking back and forth. It was a long and frenzied climax, full of sighs and laughter. That cackle—it was the same one he'd heard echoing ahead in the Labyrinth of the Ancients, the same that many came to know before blacking out for good. For all the heat on G'raha's cheeks, the idea brought a cold chill to his spine. That and the breeze helped him remember where he was and how vulnerable he was while doing it.

While his hands stuttered in trying to get his dick back in his pants, the Warrior slipped easily into decency—smalls, trousers, and tunic back on in the blink of an eye. He was barely standing by the time she patted her thighs and turned over her shoulder. "Tomorrow!" she said.

"Tomorrow?"

But it was too late. She hunkered down in that dangerous way dragoons do, before launching herself over the side of the mound and onward. She was gone.

Around that time, his muscles started to ache, tired from holding the same ungraceful squat long enough to drain himself of semen. Were it not for an incriminating patch of ground before his feet, he might've been able to convince himself the whole thing didn't happen. And would it happen again? Tomorrow? He rubbed his forehead with the back of his arm and took a deep breath. Research. He should return to his research.

On his way back, he tread a bit heavier and with more unsteadiness in his gait. His footsteps looked uneven in the silt of Silvertear. For the rest of the night, his thighs hurt like hells...but for some reason his head didn't.

[syngigeim]

G'raha Tia for the character thing. Give me your spicy catboy takes.

Uh, prepare for slightly lukewarm takes. That’s kinda what I have prepared.

How I Feel About This Character

He’s...okay?

Honestly there are a lot of Scion characters that I just rather moderately like and not like “absolutely they are the best ever!” Kinda was a lot more attached to Ardbert in the Shadowboyfriends trio, as well anyone who’s followed this blog awhile would know.

The dude has been through a lot though, what with all the hope and dreams and believing and expecting he would die for the sake for the hero and for a better future and accepted it with a smile. Kinda like what my own WoL was doing during Shadowbringers as well.

Like once I realized that he and Syngigeim have gone through very similar arcs in comparison, (and ya know, they are both nerds supreme living their best life for the most part now), I did more warm up to him at least.

All the People I Ship Romantically With This Character

I may not be a big G’raha/WoL shipper, but I still really like quite a lot of the fanwork that has spawned out because of it. And for some reason, G’raha/Meteor in particular art just tickles me pink. I didn’t see too much art of our place-holder WoL before Shadowbringers and I’m glad a job change to make him ultra-hot Dark Knight has done wonders for fandom perception it seems.

As for in relation to my own oc’s...I’m kinda maybe considering G’raha/Q’hara but that’s because they are VERY similar characters. Because I very unintentionally based a lot of Q’hara off of G’raha because I didn’t expect he would come back. And then he did and now there are two quite eager and kindhearted catboys running around.

My non-romantic OTP For This Character

I’m quite enjoying the building up of the Alisaie/G’raha friendship. We thought they would fight over the WoL but no, they are now friends and they will...well I was going to use an old Persona meme and say DIE FOR YOU but Alisaie is expressly against that stuff.

(Though we absolutely need more Krile and G’raha interactions though)

My Unpopular Opinion About This Character

I’m...not into him romantically? I am more moderate about him? Oh, I kinda liked the persona he more put on as the Crystal Exarch than his very enthusatic self but I bet we’ll see more of the “Exarch” so to speak when danger ramps up again. And it did pop up again when actually dealing with the pirates. Not with the duplicity but with the “Oh I see what you are doing and it is wrong and here is why.”

One Thing I Wish Would Happen / Had Happened With This Character in Canon

More Krile and G’raha interactions please.

Otherwise we’re kinda in a “let’s wait and see what the next expansion will bring up.” Or hell, even this next Tuesday. Though it’s seems like the character development winds have turned towards Alphinaud’s way again so maybe not much but again, we shall see.

[sparrowwritings]

Final Fantasy Writing Challenge Day Twenty-One: “To succeed in life, you need three things; a wishbone, a backbone and a funny bone.” -- Reba McEntire

Day Twenty -- Masterpost -- Day Twenty-Three

The courtyard emptied quickly now that the citizens of the Crystarium were well assured that their Exarch, the Scions and the Warriors of Darkness were well. Or, at least, as well as people who had been through a harrowing experience and a long journey back to the city could look like. As usual, no one asked any probing questions. With all of the details that would have needed explaining, such a lack of outright curiosity was a relief.

Y’shotla let loose the breath (and tension) that she had held practically since the final confrontation with Emet-Selch. The other adults were doing much the same. Lara and Roger’s souls were completely fine, even after all of the damage that had been done from the corruption of Light. No aether leaked from their beings, and the brightness they projected was at far more ordinary levels when it came to the two of them.

(She likened the sudden repair of souls to filling in the cracks of a near-shattered vase with more clay, and fusing with heat. 

Perhaps that wasn’t the best of metaphors, but it made the most sense to her.)

Even the Crystal Exarch (now known to the Scions by his true name G’raha Tia) had fully recovered on the journey back. Being this close to the Crystal Tower had turned his sickly pale skin back to its healthy color. His aether was also back to levels that she was far more used to seeing it in him. 

She still had many a question about his side of the mess, but an interrogation held when the four youngest members of the group were practically unconscious on their feet would be in poor form. Perhaps she would ask later. When she herself was also less weary.

“We should be off to rest,” Thancred suggested. “Now that we know that there will be a morrow, there’s plenty more we can get up to.” He nodded at Ryne. “Not the least of which is seeing what lies beyond the Flood of Light.”

That snapped the red-haired girl out of her tired daze. “Really? You’re serious?”

He cracked a grin. “Absolutely.”

Just before Ryne could give her quite obvious answer, a hand fell on the girl’s shoulder. She stopped to blink and look towards who the hand was attached. The owner was Lara, looking as if she could sleep for a week. Perhaps she would, if given a chance. Still, she smiled back at Ryne’s confused expression before turning to Thancred with a resolute proclamation. “Actually, Roger and I have plans for Ryne first.”

“You do?” “We do?”

Both Roger and Thancred spoke at the same time, with much the same amount of confusion. The young man clearly hadn’t been paying attention--he was just as tired as his sister, and the sudden talk of plans had left him high and dry. Or so Y’shtola could tell just from watching his expressions change. 

From the corner of her eye, she could see the Leveilleur twins and Urianger give each other equally perplexed expressions. G’raha Tia’s ears had lifted up and his head tilted in curiosity. A curious thing, to see his full expression. She made a mental note about it before tuning back into what was happening. 

Lara, thankfully, was not so tired as to be impatient with her brother. “Remember the other day when we made plans for a day of just us younger folk?”

Roger still had a blank expression.

“Where we wanted to invite Ryne, Alphie and Ali over to our apartment after...?”

It took a few more seconds than it probably should have, but he eventually snapped out of his fugue state. “OH! THOSE PLANS!” His voice echoed around them as he clamped his mouth shut with his hands. A scarlet blush covered his entire face and Y’shtola could help the chuckle bubbling in her chest. The nicknames and the reaction was just too adorable. She managed to cover her mouth with a hand just in time.

Alisaie was the first to respond. “You seriously had to wait until just after nearly dying for the umpteenth time to invite us over to your place?” Her words and tone were harsh, but the quickly growing smile on her face betrayed how pleased she was at the prospect. “You’re not even going to sleep first?”

“To be clear,” Lara held up a finger with the hand not currently on the utterly shocked Ryne’s shoulder. “This invitation is for at least the day after tomorrow. When I lay down in my bed later I’m not getting up for a whole day.” 

“Hah, I’m already pretty much asleep…” Roger commiserated. 

“So.” She turned her attention back to Ryne. “I know you want to explore what’s out in the rest of the world, but I would like to officially invite you to join Alphinaud, Alisaie, Roger and I on a day of nothing in particular but being friends, followed by a sleepover at our apartment. Want to come?” 

“When did this turn into a sleepover?” Alisaie mock protested.

Alphinaud was mumbling to himself. A quick readjustment of one of her ears helped Y’shtola hear the quiet words, “I don’t think I’ve ever been invited to a sleepover…” 

Ryne’s entire face, along with some of her neck and shoulders, went about as red as her hair. Her voice was about as quiet as when Y’shtola first knew her as Minfilia. “I...um…”

Seeing the girl’s distress, Lara let go of her shoulder and lifted her arms in panicked surrender. “Whoa wait, you don’t need to--that is…” Her eyes darted around, not meeting Ryne’s. “You don’t need to answer right now! I don’t even know when we’ll get to it! Don’t feel obligated to say yes if you don’t want to go!” Her words were turning jumbled and rambly. The tiredness did not help on top of Lara’s natural way of showing nervousness.

“I thinketh that what young Lara means to say is that thine invitation is open regardless of thine answer.” Urianger smoothly inserted his conclusion as the ramble was becoming too high pitched for even Y’shtola to hear. Lara shut her mouth and nodded quickly. “She only wishes to inform that thine company would be most appreciated whilst also enjoying the company of the Leveilleur twins.”

“Wh-what he said. Sort of.” Lara mumbled.

“And perhaps it would be best to ask and answer when all have been well rested.” Y’shtola announced, giving a significant look to Thancred. He at least had the wherewithal to narrow his eyes back at her. “Not to sound like a mother hen, but it’s well past time for all of you to sleep.” she shooed the children off in the direction of the apartments. “Let’s worry about all of this later.”

G’raha Tia cleared his throat, having spent the past conversation nervously running his hands up and down his forearms. “Fully agreed.” He gave a timid smile. The friendliness he was trying to portray was offset by how nearly flat his ears were on top of his head. “Though when plans of any sort have been finalized, I will be full glad to offer any assistance or supplies that the Crystarium can spare.” 

“The offer is seconded.” Y’shtola used her Master Matoya voice to make her point. Only the Leveilleur twins seemed to have been listening. It was only a little disappointing. 

“W-we should, probably go. Sleep that is.” Lara still wasn’t looking in Ryne’s direction. “We’ll let you know when the sleepover is happening. C’mon, Roger.” She turned and grabbed her brother with one arm. He was so tired that protesting was out of the question.

“We should be heading off ourselves.” Alphinaud yawned. Alisaie rubbed at an eye and nodded sleepily.

“I shall accompany thee.” Urianger volunteered and followed once the twins had set off for their own sleeping quarters.

Thancred waited until Ryne had recovered before gently saying, “Let’s sleep on that, eh? Give yourself some time to think about what you wish to do.”

“Okay…” She mumbled. Satisfied, he walked ahead while the girl kept a somewhat slower pace. It looked as if she had been handled an overly difficult puzzle to work through. Y’shtola hoped that the rest would help her.

Then it was herself and the Crystal Exarch. His ears were still fairly flat, but they lifted a little as he smiled at her. “I suppose I should bid you goodnight, Y’shtola.”

Instead of returning the farewell, she responded, “You’re no longer obligated to keep the Warriors of Darkness at arm’s length anymore, you know.”

His ears rose as high as they could before falling back even flatter than before. G’raha Tia clutched his staff closer to him, as if anticipating an attack. “I’m not sure I know what you mean.” The lie was as obvious as the white in his red hair or the nose on his face. She kept her eye roll to herself. 

“If that’s what you wish to tell yourself, then fine. Just replay this scene in your memory when you try to put Roger and Lara on your high pedestal again.” She turned a heel towards the aetheryte. “Blessed night, Exarch.”

She didn’t have to look to know that he was staring at her until the light of the crystal carried her off back to Slitherbough.

-----

Y’shtola didn’t hear much about the slumber party until a while afterword. All of the participants had kept most of the details close to their chest. She didn’t blame them. The whole point of the endeavor was to spend time away from the adults, and divulging would have been against the point.

Still, she managed to glean some information. 

Ryne had decided to join. Her reaction had come from being overwhelmed by both the trip that Thancred had suggested and Lara’s invitation. It made sense. The poor girl had been raised as a weapon and a tool. Family and friends hadn’t been a part of her life until very recently. Having a choice between one or the other? Utterly mind-boggling. Thankfully (and wisely) Thancred had postponed their plans to travel past the Flood of Light til after the slumber party.

Lara had insisted that it was to be a casual event, and so made certain that armor and weapons were put away the entire time. When Ryne had brought up that she only had the one kind of dress to her name (she had several copies in case of damage), apparently Lara had balked and then let the girl have a set of her own clothes that she hardly wore anymore. Y’shtola, under the guise of needing to secure supplies from the Crystarium, had even witnessed the girl wearing it. If one wasn’t aware of Ryne’s status as the Oracle of Light, they would know it instantly from how much joy she was radiating at that moment.

More details had yet to be uncovered by her, but the next day after the slumber party all five of the young people sported changed hairstyles that went back to normal far too soon for Y’shtola’s liking. 

Other than the obvious moral increase in the young ones, a secondary positive effect happened thanks to that night. After having the Scions meet up with the Exarch for a standard extolling of information, he asked Roger and Lara to stay behind. Y’shtola wasn’t so untactful to stay behind and listen...but if she lingered but a moment as the door shut behind her and so happen to overhear G’raha Tia start to apologise to the both of them, then it was a happy coincidence that such a thing had occurred.

[nadana-vhet]

Prompt 18: Panglossian

Rating: General Audiences G’raha and N’adana friendship, we love to see it!! 

Major big boy ShB spoilers, as is par for the course this week homies.

“You didn’t seem the type to miss a party.”

G’raha Tia glanced over his shoulder and watched as N’adana approached, having shucked her armor for a much more relaxed combination of shirt and trousers. She sat next to him on the edge of Lake Silvertear, crossing her legs under her as she settled herself in the grass.

He chuckled softly, “Neither do you, considering you are the hero of the hour.”

N’adana shrugged, “Ah well, they started drinkin’.”

G’raha Tia was reminded once again that the admirable hero was only still a child. The scar that cut across the bridge of her nose made her appear older despite the fact that she still possessed quite the baby-face. Her green eyes scanned the surface of the lake, which was lit only by the moon, which barely peaked out behind the intimidating silhouette that was Midgardsomar.

“Well, I for one am flattered that you thought to come check on me.” G’raha smiled at the young girl, offering her a piece of the bread he had been picking at while he was lost in thought.

She took the bread with a smile and popped it in her mouth, “’Course. I feel bad that they don’t let you come with, to be honest. I don’t understand anythin’ about this Allagan stuff, so I feel a little guilty I get to see it before all of you.”

G’raha huffed softly, shaking his head at the little Warrior of Light. “I cannot deny that being forced to trail behind is frustrating, but there is still plenty of the Tower to explore, yes? Perhaps Rammbroes will change his mind next we adventure inside.”

N’adana chuckled, raising a brow at her fellow redheaded miqo’te. If it weren’t for his pale skin and red eye, one could almost mistake them for siblings. “Very optimistic of you, considering how against it he was the first time.”

“If there is one thing I am, it is certainly optimistic.”

 --------------------------------------------------------------------------

G’raha Tia stood at the edge of Lake Silvertear, the blistering sun bouncing off the murky waters and practically blinding him as he stared up at Midgardsomar. His past words echoed in his ears, standing in the same spot he did countless decades ago with the Warrior of Light.

The Warrior that was now dead. She had been for generations.

And where was he? He had slept ten times longer than she had even gotten to live.

He pressed the pads of his fingers against his eyes to stop any oncoming tears, trying desperately to come to terms with everything that had happened. No matter how many times Biggs had spoken to him of how the world changed after her death, or how many times he read her letters, or looked out at the desolate wasteland that was once beautiful Mor Dhona – it was just too hard to believe.

He just hoped this plan would work. It had to work.

It’s going to work.

G’raha steeled himself just in time to hear the crunch of gravel behind him, turning around to be greeted by Biggs. He was a spitting image of his namesake, if he recalled correctly, but perhaps the one he came to know so well was the only face he could attach to the name anymore.

“It’s ready. We’re ready whenever you are.” The Rogaedyn smiled down at him, reaching out a large hand and squeezing G’raha’s shoulder. It was as if he could sense G’raha’s nervousness and doubt, speaking up once more before the miqo’te had the chance to respond. “It’s going to work, G’raha. We all believe in you.”

 ---------------------------------------------------------------------

G’raha wiped the tears from his eyes after his long ascent to the top of the Crystal Tower. Everything had been meticulously planned – Biggs quadruple-checked to make sure all their equipment was out of the Crystal Tower, made sure everything was perfect. All that was left to do was just… go. Leave the Source behind him – everything he’s ever known – for the chance to make it right again.

G’raha Tia reached out his hand, channeling the energy that coursed through the Crystal Tower through his very being, the aether encircling him and filling his senses as he focused on the singular point that would take them to deliverance.

It’s going to work. This is going to work.

And it did.

[fistsoflightning]

23: i wanna know what you’re doing tonight

prompt: shuffle || masterpost || other fills || ao3 mirror

word count: 2796

Does writing music based on things your friend said count as flirting?

It’s AU brainworm time everybody >:3 This “main street” AU is basically balefire/mom squad’s ‘what if we made a bunch of small town romance ideas and mashed them together’ which turns out to be a lot more hilarious than it should be. Featuring (chat) cameos from @windupcatgirl @to-the-voiceless @windupnamazu @verbroil and @winduphaurchefant because why not. Title from this song!

For all intents and purposes, Zaya enjoys autumn; summer heat cooling off into a pleasant chill, the sunlight that lingers enough to keep warm in the early weeks. The trees may die, but in doing so they grow colorful, and though the flowers in A’dewah’s little shop don’t do the same he changes which ones are on display to match better with the tree outside. It does mean Krile—and more recently, one G’raha Tia—have to return to Mor Dhona, their studies resuming, but it’s not like they can’t chat.

It does, however, mean the return of autumn showers—and they don’t even hate rain that much—and fortunately Zaya managed to forget their poncho just as the first big storm pulled in. Mor Dhona wasn’t that far of a drive away, really, just two or three hours on a road Zaya had taken enough times before, but in the middle of a rainstorm? Without a rainproof coat?

Well, at least Miss Eldfalk’s documents are staying dry in the carrier at Zaya’s back, even if the chill of the rain has already soaked through the wool of their jacket and started to dampen their shirt by the time they pull into the parking garage just a block or so away from the museum waiting on Sjanna’s delivery. Thankfully the inn is just an elevator away and not on the other side of the road; they should keep a spare poncho or umbrella in the motorcycle luggage next time.

Zaya pushes the thought aside as they slip off their helmet and the phone in their pocket begins to buzz about, safely tucked within the canvas pocket of their overalls and hopefully not just as soaked as their hands are. Wiping their palms and fingers on the inside of their legs, they unzip the soggy jacket and tug out the borrowed phone to see the numerous Linkcord notifications—of course.

Leaning onto the front of their motorcycle, Zaya hardly takes a second glance up to the storm just out the window behind them as a few taps and a swipe unlocks the screen, opening up to the Linkcord discussion of the day (night? Night.)

[ text channel #mom-panic; 9:47 PM ]

banned for baby crimes zayaaaaaa i miss you Hanami Hagane You are just saying that because you have no one to drag around the fair. Hanami Hagane Besides, they will be back tomorrow afternoon. banned for baby crimes no i’m not!! that’s too long!! i brought ihget but he’s being stupid and wont ride the ferris wheel with me :’) banned for baby crimes i cant find lunya and reese either so now im stuck with himbo here local breadhead we’re just by the cotton candy stand! lunya’s waving at you ;) banned for baby crimes OH THERE YOU ARE HOW DID I MISS YOU        hold on i gotta grab the chad first local breadhead 😊 banned for baby crimes but i really miss zaya even if they’re just over in mor dhona.. so does ochir he- i- banned for baby crimes has anyone seen ochir ihget lost him in the crowd- this says zaya 😱 reese is in pieces :O( YOU WHAT?? local breadhead oh dear lmao reese is in pieces :O( i hope no one tries to take him :( reese is in pieces :O( lunya says if your stupid catboy loses zaya’s bird shes not going to make you two the mini versions of zaya’s courier hat banned for baby crimes IT SNTO MY FAULT ZAYA JR HERE WAS BEIGNB ROODY ADN LOOKED AWAY         NOOOOOOO,,, Hanami Hagane Why bring the bird with you, anyways. Zaya lent you Ochir’s cage. banned for baby crimes he made sad noises when ihget n i were abt to leave,,,,

The chat quickly devolves from there into Sati panicking about Zaya’s violet-backed starling going rogue and everyone else jumping in and hells, they are not in the mood to manage that. Drops of water fall from their chin onto the screen; they hastily wipe it away before shoving the phone back into their pocket and hop off their motorcycle. A few quick movements with the key round their wrist opens up the luggage attachment with the satchel of papers inside—blessedly dry, thank the gods they splurged on a decent one instead—which they swing over their shoulder as they start walking to the elevator.

A dripping trail has probably followed them all the way from the parking garage to the lobby, they think in passing as they stop at the front desk, waiting for the receptionist to turn around. Their hand goes to fiddle with the small keychain on their keyring as they wait, still dripping their own personal puddle around them.

“Hello, hello! Welcome to the Seventh Heaven, how may I—” Tataru turns around, small smile widening into a sunny bright grin when she sees them, even if they’re dripping all over the lobby. “Zaya! Good to see you back again; need a room for the night, then?”

A curt nod (that sends water droplets onto the surface of Tataru’s desk) is all she needs to hop off her stepping stool and onto the ground, waving Zaya along before she cheerily marches down the halls with a keyring jingling in her hand. Not even the gloomy rainstorm thundering outside can put a damper on her mood, it seems.

“Payment for the night’s stay may be given in the form of Gannet Bay gossip, alright?” Tataru unlocks the door to a nicely decorated room with a quick turn of her hand, playfully winking over her shoulder as she does. Her violet eyes glimmer almost the same as Lunya’s, really; filled with teasing joy and secrets. “I’ve heard from the grapevine about a certain catboy quite enjoying the atmosphere out there, now!”

She steps aside as the door swings fully open, giving a little curtsy, and Zaya gives her an energetic thumbs-up as they walk past her into the room, pleasantly warm and bright from the small fireplace in the corner of the room, banked low so its amber glow only flickers across the floor.

First things first: getting out of all the soggy clothing they’re wearing.

They hang their satchel (papers still neatly bound inside, good) on the wall hook by the door and haphazardly strip off their shoes and socks, followed by the once-warm and fluffy jacket as they look about for spare hangers.

Ah; Tataru always has their back. Hanging on the end of the bed are a set of four or so hangers, which Zaya snaps up with ease, carefully slipping the wooden hangers through sleeves and loops as they finally get to their undershirt—blissfully dry, if not a bit cold. Their overalls aren’t all that damp on the top but are more than soaked the further down the legs one looks… hopefully that dries quick enough.

Just as they finish kicking their ankle-high boots to the mat by the door, a quiet yet unfamiliar chime fills the room, and Zaya nearly thinks to check outside the door for the noise when the light vibrations trickle up their arm. The soft ringtone—someone humming along to a muffled orchestra, maybe; not the smartest of choices for a calling ringtone—grows louder as Zaya stares down at their collection of soggy clothing.

...Alright, second: answer the damn phone?

Zaya nearly fumbles all the hangers to grab their phone from the pockets of their overalls and accept the call, only briefly reading the name from the screen before his face pops up in its place. White hair and a charming grin, perhaps—that is, to anyone who hadn’t heard the words that fall from his mouth like gentle rain.

(Okay, well, maybe that just helped. Zaya wasn’t going to say that out loud to anybody regardless; it didn’t matter what they thought of Thancred’s charms. Probably.)

“...I’d say ‘good evening’ but I wager you are having anything but just by the water dripping off your hair,” Thancred says in lieu of greeting, his voice warm and surrounded by the distant sounds of the usual fall fair attractions. “So instead, I’ll say this; is that old phone serving you well enough?”

Zaya nods; given, this one’s a bit clunky, but the lightness of their actual tomephone may have indirectly been the reason that they’d dropped it while helping out around town and eventually cracked the screen. At least Thancred had offered to lend them his old one for the trip to Mor Dhona in case, just on the off chance someone truly needed their attention, like for lost birds and ways to punish a distracted idiot.

They set it on the table, the front camera facing towards the window as Zaya steps into frame, still fiddling with the hangers in their hands. Mor Dhona may be covered in a gloomy storm, but the golden lights from the buildings around Revenant’s Toll Square still glow brightly in the distance, a refuge from the biting torrent of cold rain.

“Survived the water,” they sign slowly, stepping closer to the fireplace in a subtle attempt to dry off a bit quicker, almost fumbling when their fingers stiffen, chilled to the bone. Thancred laughs, the bridge of his nose crinkling just a tad like how it does when he can’t stop cracking himself up. “Still has power, too.”

“Glad to see it has survived, then.” There’s a slight pause where Thancred stops talking (and laughing) to catch his breath, the small silence filled with Zaya leaving frame to go hang their soaked clothes over the fireplace to hopefully dry for tomorrow. When they come back to look at the camera, a kaleidoscope of colorful lights dance across Thancred’s face, some colorfully lit attraction before him leaving his platinum blonde hair awash with a rainbow of color. “The storm there should burn off by early dawn, though; hopefully you will not have to drag yourself home dripping wet from your business in Mor Dhona.”

Ah, good. They yawn as discreetly as someone who’s on a video call can—which is to say, not very, and a rosy flush must spread on their face when Thancred chuckles under his breath, low and steady. 

“Forgive me,” he says next, voice lowered as if he were disturbing someone’s rest. “I must be keeping you from collapsing; I can’t imagine a drive in the freezing rain and getting soaked is the least draining way to spend one’s night.”

In-between stretching out the tense muscles in their back and neck do they grunt some noise of agreement, the strain flaring momentarily before melting into a drowsy warmth that drips down the ridges of their spine. Really, spending time in Mor Dhona at all is a draining waste of time—when you make your home in somewhere as vibrantly quiet as Gannet Bay it’s hard to want the big city over the comforts of familiarity, of knowing each shop and its owners personally, of being able to help them all and see their smiles.

At least they can see one person from home, now.

“ ‘S fine,” they mumble softly, heart stuttering when Thancred’s smile widens at the sound of their voice. Part of them wishes they were there to playfully elbow him for that—it’s not that rare tha they’ll speak—and the other part of them they are desperately trying to ignore. “How’s th’ fair.”

“Wonderful.” He looks up for a moment as Zaya wraps themselves in the bed coverings, presumably to whatever booth or stall is shining down on his face with fluorescent lights. “Ryne’s had a wonderful time, I think. I haven’t seen your friends around, but would you like to hear about the odd variety of attractions around?”

Zaya hums sleepily, waiting for him to continue. They hardly even notices when their eyelids grow heavy and their fingers return to their usual warmth, entranced enough by the fond familiarity of Thancred’s voice as they drift off to sleep.

…

The next morning, Zaya wakes with the dawn that rises across Mor Dhona, the bright golden sunrise sneaking through the cracks of the large curtains to tickle their bedsheets. The cityscape outside the window is covered by low autumn morning fog, glimmering as the sunlight dances over it and the puddles the passing storm had left behind in its wake. Outside, it is nearly silent, only a few passing cars and hardly any pedestrians around when Zaya does their morning stretches by the window.

As is always with a trip into the city, they fall into an easy routine; wake with the sun, stretch out whatever they can without breaking something, get dressed and hastily grab everything before rushing out the door, wave Tataru a rushed but genuine goodbye. Trot down to the parking garage, check the bike, throw the satchel back into the luggage on the back as they slip on their stereo cuffs and flick through playlists on their phone before going to get breakfast at the Bismarck—

Zaya pauses their flick-tap scroll through the playlists on their phone when they catch one with their name. Odd; Thancred did always have the habit of making his friends their own personal playlists, but they’d like to think they didn’t give him that much of a read on their tastes just yet.

Shrugging to no one but themselves, they tap on the playlist and let it begin to play as they slide the phone back into their overall pocket, starting up their motorcycle’s engine just as the song begins to play.

They stop. 

[ DM history with @superbolide; 7:36 AM]

zayaya ❓ zayaya 🌅😊❗🎵🎧💿❓❓ superbolide good morning to you too :) you’re up rather early superbolide something the matter? superbolide ah          i haven’t got another song for you yet, if that’s the question   rest assured, i’ll find something yet! zayaya 🙅

It hardly takes them more than a few seconds to grab a small screenshot of the playlist in question, sending it and another screenshot back to Thancred as they quietly listen to the same song Rjoli and Reese had playing near constantly for last Valentione’s Day in the bakery—still manages to be catchy, somehow. Let it not be said that acoustic covers were not their favorite.

The notification ringtone chimes when Thancred responds, cheery and bright.

Zaya goes a bit bug-eyed at what he types next, the song fading off as the next one on shuffle comes up—piano, humming, Thancred’s voice—

Thankfully, for it being so early in the morning, there’s no one around in the parking garage to judge the frankly embarrassing noise they make at their phone, or the bright flush that spreads across their face.

It isn’t like that, they remember saying, sputtering like a fish out of water when Lunya had barely insinuated that Thancred’s small wave as he walked past was a bit more than friendly. There’s no way he’d be interested in the courier that helped him choose out a ribbon at the local boutique, of all people! He doesn’t even know where I work!

Zaya drops their forehead onto the dash of their motorcycle, careful not to hit their horns against anything as they do.

Looks like they were wrong, about it ‘not being like that’. Maybe.

(Oh gods, they really hope they’re wrong.)

…

[ text channel #mom-panic; 8:03 AM]

💬 this says zaya is typing...

this says zaya😑 this says zaya💭🌑💘 🤟 ❓ banned for baby crimes DOES HTAT MEAN WHAT I THINK IT DOES closest to hell zaya qestir i swear on your lover boy’s life clarify for the peanut gallery local breadhead :0 reese is in pieces :O( i think            hm reese is in pieces :O( zaya did thancred just confess or did somethign else happen this says zaya [ superbolide: oh haha i must have forgotten to upload those to my lifestream] this says zaya [ superbolide: there are some songs i did save, but all the clips there were lyrics i thought of after chatting w/ you 😉] this says zaya [ superbolide: i could make an EP dedicated to you w/ the inspo you gave me] this says zaya [ superbolide: that is, if you don’t mind] Hanami Hagane I told you he was obvious. closest to hell SATINA YOU OWE ME GUMMIES FROM SHOOTING STAR I CALLED IT closest to hell IT WAS OBVIOUS THE MUSIC HES MAKING WAS BC OF THEM local breadhead oh bless… that’s v sweet… banned for baby crimes HBHBHHB NOOO MY HARD EARNED GIL,,, banned for baby crimes BUT WE ALL WERE RIGHT ABOUT HIM THO reese is in pieces :O( awwwauaua!! banned for baby crimes so banned for baby crimes zaya banned for baby crimes when’s the wedding this says zaya 😡😡😡 closest to hell me🤝sati “when’s the wedding” this says zaya 👆💀🏡 Hanami Hagane You two better start running. banned for baby crimes WAIT ZAYA NO-

[ffxiv-swarm]

prompt 12: tooth and nail

“Ah, but I haven’t introduced myself! Nero tol Scaeva, at your service.”

There was a general clamor around her—Cid, Biggs, and Wedge outraged, Rita tense, G’raha Tia wincing, the two Allagan scholars confused—but Gan didn’t care. They didn’t matter. All that mattered was the pounding of her heart, the rasp of air through her lungs building to a hissing shriek, the tension in her muscles begging to be unleashed. The world around her faded, blue crystals and violet mist leaching to gray at the edge of her vision.

All she saw in front of her was red.

Clanging metal under her feet, screams of the wounded and dying rattling her horns. The burn and reek of hot ceruleum; the cleaner, electrifying scent of spellfire. Shooting down one Garlean—another—another—draw and loose, ignoring the ache in her shoulders because if she faltered, those around her would die. Knowing that every Garlean she killed bore the shapes of those who had slain her tribesmates and stolen her from her home—knowing that she couldn’t bring them back, but she could avenge them. Leaping up to a high rampart to take aim at a reaper, the pilot’s expression wide-eyed as she killed him. Something—she never did catch what—exploding, searing the scales from her forearms when she threw her arms up to protect her face.

She’d heard that voice then, distorted as it was by the stupid helmet. It was still the same—still the smirking, arrogant, entitled voice of a man who thought the world owed him favors. And now it had a face.

She dropped her bow and launched herself at him, the rage in her throat ripping its way free as a roar. Articulate threats were unnecessary when your foe wasn’t going to live long enough to be scared of them; he might have been a tribunus, but she was a warrior of the Bayaqud.

No weapons. No finesse. I am going to tear—you—limb—from—limb!

She was in midair when a heavy weight on her back knocked her to the ground. When she twisted around like a wildcat to claw at whatever it was—whatever had dared interrupt her vengeance—Biggs yelped in pain.

“Grab her arms!”

“I’ve got her—ow, bugger, watch ‘er tail spikes!”

“I’ve got it!” That was Wedge, bravely throwing himself at the end of her tail and pinning it with his entire body weight.

“I think you should let her go, personally.”

Letting her go sounded like an excellent idea. Ritanelle was a damn genius, currently staring down the pile of Ironworkers with a voice as cold as a mountain stream. Gan twisted fruitlessly in an effort to throw Cid’s weight off her legs. “C’mon—“

Cid sighed. “He’s a pain in all our arses—“

“He should be dead! Lemme up!”

“—but he’s a godsdamned genius when it comes to Allag, and the Syrcus Tower here won’t wait. We need him alive.” After a moment, he added, “With all his extremities attached.”

“I am going to gouge out his third eye and make a necklace,” Gan hissed. They still hadn’t let her up. She was increasingly tempted to start biting.

“...Please do not.”

Rita squeezed her eyes shut, rubbing her forehead. “You’re sure we need him in one piece?”

Cid eyed Nero, who had very sensibly frozen in place well out of range of Gan’s hands but very stupidly not out of range of Rita’s spells. “...He’ll probably be more useful that way.”

He would be the most useful as dog meat, Gan thought viciously.

Rita heaved a huge sigh. “You. Nero tol Scaeva. You put one toe out of line, and I will immobilize you and give you to Gantsetseg over here, who does not like Imperials and has a truly disturbing variety of ways to make you regret your life choices—this description, you understand, coming from someone who melts her enemies’ lungs out for a living. Got me?” At his enthusiastic nodding, she turned her focus to Gan. “Gan, I want his head on a plate too, but please restrain yourself until we’re finished with all...this.” Her hand gesture encompassed the entire Crystal Tower and dismissed it as not worth her time, all in one motion. (Behind her, G’raha Tia made an indignant huff until she added, “Look, the tower is bloody fascinatin’ but the defense system is not.”)

Gan bucked her entire body, digging her horn into the dirt. It didn’t help; Biggs weighed a tonze. “...Fine. Alright. Just let go of me!” And if her voice cracked on something like a sob, full of pain and rage, nobody commented on it.

They let her go. She scrambled to her feet, ungainly with suppressed fury, and met Nero tol Scaeva’s nervous eyes. One day I’ll kill you. I’ll have your bones for a necklace and your skull for a drinking cup.

And then she took a deep breath and turned away to accept the comforting arm Rita laid across her shoulders. One day. Soon. But not yet.

[smitten-miqitten]

How about G’raha Tia for the character ask!

First impressions: I didn't really think much about G'raha back in Crystal Tower. He seemed nice, but very much like a throwaway npc that we'd never see again. I don't really like to get attached to characters like that, since it just ends up disappointing in the end most of the time. I also thought the shades of red and green they picked for his eyes were a little too anime. A little desaturated would look better, imo. I did get really excited when they released the Shadowbringers art though, because I knew immediately who it was. A raid character, getting added back into the main story?!

Impression now: I adore G'raha now because of the fact that he is a raid character added to msq and because he ties a lot of the raids into the story. He's a good person and I enjoy the fact he's getting real development. However, as endearing as it is, I don't like how obsessed they made him with the WoL. I really didn't get a hero worship vibe from him back in CT, and he honestly feels like an entirely different character.

Favorite moment: When he cries at hearing the WoL call his name. I had been waiting to do that forever, and the payoff was such a lovely moment. Not to mention it was a lovely bit of animation. The amount of expressions and detail in Shadowbringers is just amazing.

Idea for a story: I want him to tell us more about the bad timeline, or about his early days in Norvrant. He really is like an entirely new character, and I'd like to get to know him.

Unpopular opinion: His eyes are way too saturated and freak me out. A duller red would be way nicer looking.

Favorite relationship: Him and Lyna are wonderful. The caring mentor and the mentee, who suddenly learns way more about him and, well, the world, than she thought possible. I hope she doesn't get sidelined :(

Favorite headcannon: I like the one about how hard it is for him to hide his tail, and he gets kinks in it from keeping it in a weird position for too long. As a Miqo'te player I really feel that.

[dholwrites]

Turn on and offs

Request:  Request: #38- What are they like in the bedroom? Any kinks/fetishes/turn-ons? Anything they won’t do? For the usual FF boys!

Reposted due to the original post being deleted. 

Estinien

He prides himself in having a lot of self-control, of course, you need to test it out for yourself. Estinien would have taken you once he was in the later stages of his recovery as thanks. He’ll have you seated on his waist, your arms wrapped tightly around his neck and your fingers in his hair. Anyone coming in would have thought you had climbed on the bed to hug him. With his hands on your hips, he guides you to grind yourself on to him. You shudder at the length of erection press right against your core. Your smallclothes did little to help. You can feel the shockwave of his thrusts run straight through your core as if he is already pounding into you.

           “Do you feel that? Does it excite you to do this in broad daylight, where anyone can find us?”

Turn-ons:

Clothes sex

Biting

Dry humping

Dirty talk

There’s a good chance that he won’t be doing outdoor sex, especially around areas where there is an abundance of dragon kind in the area. He’s grown up his enter life killing dragons and hating them, his instinct is to be on high alert.

Aymeric

You’ll find yourself in his bed before you could even say ‘please’, the second he figures out that you were more than willing to join him. The first few times is very soft and vanilla, he wants to be able to appreciate you, your body, he likes to watch your reaction to each thing he does. He spends hours upon hours learning which touches and spots makes you completely melt. That’s when you will discover that he has quite the mouth on him, a politician with a silver tongue. His favorite distraction, since then, is to feel the squeeze of your thighs around his head as he laps up your juices from spilling onto his documents.

Turn-ons and kinks:

Roleplay

Oral fixation

Restraints

Praise (both)

The second you say stop or no, he will immediately stop. He doesn’t want to push himself onto you in case you ever change your mind. The thought of doing something wrong, something that would drive you away scares him and he wants to fix whatever the mistake quickly. Even if there is a safe word intact, he will have to learn to get used to it first.

Alphinuad

This baby is new to everything. In the beginning, he is very flustered and stuttering. So much so that you will be the one taking the lead. He has done all the research he could without asking anyone else and going red over his face. But nothing is like the actual experience. He becomes overloaded with the feeling of your mouth wrapped around him. The softness, your tongue playing with the tip of his cock, pressing at his weak spot. He starts to mutter out pleads as he grips the back of your head with one hand, the other clutch around his pen. The pen digs deeper into the paper before being tossed aside. He smothers to muffle his loud, high pitched moan as he becomes unraveled by your mouth.

Turn-ons:

Striptease

Distracted

Hand/blowjobs

Vanilla

He needs to do extensive research first before you guys try anything, so he’s only has touched the surface on what kind of things you guys can do. There’s little chance of him getting into BDSM mainly because he lacks the experience as of right now. Plus, the idea of putting you and himself in pain scares him.

Haurchefant

It would be easier to make a list of things he doesn’t like. He’s as eager in bed as he is out of it. After all, you are being welcomed into his bedroom since you have first arrived at the camp. He gets pleasure from seeing you in pleasure. Not surprisingly, the ball starts rolling the second you agree to spar with him. The mix of adrenaline and your piercing gaze would have struck right through him. In the end, you have him on his knees in front of you, his sword thrown across the court with a powerful slash. Your pants fill the air as you start to return to your senses, the battle high leaves your body pulsing and aching. With expert hands, you guide the edge of the blade under his chin, tilting his head up for your eyes to lock. He lets out something between a gasp and a moan, a shudder ran through his body. Haurchefant starts are you though half-lid eyes, unable to stop himself from licking his lips.

           “My dear, I believe that it’s time you take up on my offer.”

Turn on:

Worship (giving)

Discipline

Exhibitionism

Ear play

He’s open to everything; he doesn’t mind testing out new waters with you. He doesn’t mind having multiple partners if they’re someone that you both know well. The most are likely non-consensual related things like roleplay. He was taught to be a gentleman growing up, and for sure he won’t be hurting you if he can stop it.

Thancred

He is very suave with getting you in bed, after all, it won’t be the first time he is bringing someone into bed. Most of the time he would be leading the intercourse. But over time, you will start to take charge more often, each time it’s to get him to relax from being so wound up. Thancred would be the kind of person to give you sex toy and accessories as gifts, collars included. The first time he gifted you a collar, it was for you to wear. But with expert hands, you easily slip it onto him. A shudder runs up his spine as you tug on the loop meant for rope or a leash, perhaps this one looked a bit better than him.

Turn-ons:

Collaring (receiving)

Clawing and biting (receiving)

Aphrodisiacs

Almost getting caught

He isn’t a fan of being fucked until his mind goes numb. A good part of it is because of what the Ascians have done to him. Having a good chunk of his memory gone makes him a bit wound up. He likes to have as much of his memory intact as possible, especially when it’s with you.

Cid

I imagine that he likes to focus solely on one partner. Easier pleasure them to the point that they completely forget their name. He’s an icon before he defected, so it seems only natural that he can handle pleasure with the same ease as his machinery. He likes to watch you walk around with vibrators of his creation deep inside you. Watching your body suddenly stiffen up and go slack in his arms as the vibe pulls another orgasm out of you. He lets out a deep chuckle as your face pressed against his chest and collecting your breath to calm your heart. As soon as you let out a sigh of relief, the buzzing start back up dragging you right back to the edge again.

Turn on:

Sex toys

Teasing (both)

Long distance sex

Double Penetration

He does come off as a bit possessive during your sessions. Mainly because he doesn’t like the thought of someone else touching you. The idea is that with him solely focused on you, all the pleasure that you are receiving is coming from him and his inventions. The second someone else comes into the scene touching you, it breaks him out of focus and he feels the need to make it a competition.

Hien

Look at that mane and tell me that you won’t pull it at least once. Of course, he’ll let you if you can wrestle your way on top. He’s a growler. A deep rumble would come out from his chest as he becomes immersed in the feeling of you clenching him around his cock. He’s packing a lot of cum, more than anyone else on this list. If he could, he is more than happy to cum inside you. He’s intoxicated by the thought of pummeling into you and filling you up with his cum. Then slowly pulling out of you, to watch it slowly spill out and run down your thighs.

Turn-ons:

Hair pulling

Humor

Multiple orgasms

Creampie / Cumplay

He’s a bit old fashion when it comes to sex toys, why use them when he is already equipped with everything he needs to make sure that your mind is blown by the end.

But he’s not old fashion on the use of sex as a stress reliever, he understands that casual sex can become addictive.

G’raha Tia

The first few times was awkward, but both of you are quick learners so the ease of it starts to come naturally to you. You’re quick to find out that he’s loud and fidgety. He has a hard time keeping his moans and gasp from coming out. He starts to get louder once you start to stroke his tail, and wrapping your fingers around the base would send shivers through his entire body. You have to start finding creative ways to dampen the sound. First few times, he’s biting down on his fist, his shirt, clenching his teeth. It doesn’t do much because he curls up completely as he cums. In the end, he would be overwhelmed by the pleasure that would pull the loudest, toe-curling moan before collapsing in exhaustion.

Turn-ons:

Worship (both)

Pillow prince

Pampering

Tail pulling

He’s very against having sex in specific areas, like the tower or a library. These places hold a special place in his heart, a place to learn and relax. To him, having sex in such locations just seems shallow if not a bit heartless. At most he’ll be willing to try in a section that nobody goes to or he doesn’t like. But that doesn’t mean he’s not going to get distracted the second a book he was looking for comes into view. The tower is a piece of historical work that his family is attached to, it’s almost like a family heirloom. Though the idea of having sex on that throne has occurred to him.

[porteurdereve]

1, 14, 16 !

FFXIV Spoilers ahead, please be warned.

What made you pick up this character?

To be honest, I did not like G’raha Tia when he first appeared. He wasn’t my type, and he just seemed so excited all the time. I didn’t really care much for him during the Crystal Tower raids. Come Shadowbringers, I fell in love with the Crystal Exarch, unaware of the true identity underneath the hood. His leadership, his command, his unwavering determination and hope made me fall so in love with his character. I found myself attached to G’raha Tia by the end, and good gosh, the whole mess that was Endwalker just solidified him into being on my top five characters from the game. When I saw there were FFXIV WoLs in the group, I knew I had to pick up a Scion. I couldn’t think of a better character than G’raha Tia. What a fantastic man.

Are there some characters from the franchise you can’t stand?

Oh. LOADS. Well, not loads. I think only a few? I really cannot stand Zenos. At all. That man irked me from the beginning. And his father. I was very disappointed in his father. Like, he had such potential of being a strong enemy as he had good villain leadership skills? But the Ascians got in the way. Also.... Lyse? I know, I know. She’s one of the originals, but I really prefer Yda over Lyse, and that feels wrong to say. I am not a fan of her, and I found her story during Stormblood being the weakest part of the story? I mean, compared to Hien’s (hubba hubba) growth, hers was lacking. Maybe I need to replay Stormblood as my opinions have changed over the years.

Oh and Lahabrea-- after doing UwU, I cannot stand that man AT ALL. The jokes we made-- Lahabread, Lahabream, Lahabreak-- that Ascian is the BANE of my existence. I hope I never see him again-- *remembers the new savage tier* DAMMIT

What is your personal ship bias for your canon character?

Oh, the WoL and G’raha definitely. Personally, I do not ship my WoL with G’raha because I already headcanoned that he has been in a secret relationship with Hien after the events of Stormblood. So no one except the Scions and Gotesu really know about the two being an item. They’re far too busy with their obligations to truly settle down, but they make time for one another-- Okay, sorry, back to the question. Ahem. Yes, G’raha and the WoL. No matter how you look at it, the man proposed countless times for the WoL’s hand in marriage. He wants to live by the WoL until the end of days. I do not ship him personally with my WoL. BUT WITH THE MAIN FACE WOL I DO, WITH EVERY ONE ELSE’S WOL I DO. I just feel for this man. He loves the WoL with every fiber of his being. I just... UGH. 

[crystalbahamut]

victory in stages

FFXIV Write Day 10: heady

Summary: You’re used to being liked because you’re useful, but it’s harder to believe someone likes you for…well…you, and you’re not brave enough to ask. Luckily, you have a plan to get around that. A stupid plan, perhaps, but a plan.

Warnings: Shadowbringers spoilers, unspecified/ambiguous WoL, they/them used for WoL, WoL has low self-esteem, such low self-esteem they have to get knocked about the head, literally, mild violence, 2nd person, G’raha Tia/WoL

Words: 3,363

 ---

Purging the remnants of the Lightwardens from you would have been enough to make you feel weightless but combined with the defeat of Emet-Selch, the fact that you had gone into a fight and come out with no causalities, the fact that G’raha Tia had stood in front of you, hurt but so gloriously awake and alive…

You were so overwhelmed by gratitude, by things going so right for once and so drunk on the heady feeling of absolute victory you had surged forward and grabbed G’raha in your arms and squeezed. He had gasped and hugged back, stammering your name…

…But now, a couple of days removed from it, you’re wondering if you hadn't just…startled him.

“Did you travel back to the Source without telling us?”

You jolt up, taking your chin from your hand and sitting back to face Alisaie and Y’shtola, who look unamused and amused, respectively. “Sorry,” you say. “What were you saying?”

Alisaie rolls her eyes and looks askance at Y’shtola. “It’s probably a good thing we made them sit with their back to the Crystal Tower or we’d never catch their attention again.”

You frown. “What's that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, nothing.” But Y’shtola smiles into her cup as she merely holds it to her lips. “You seem to be very deep in thought, is all. One has to wonder what has caught your mind so thoroughly.” Her smile widens. “Or who.”

You duck your head between your shoulders at the insinuation. “Oh, it’s not…”

“Please, you’ve been asking after the Exarch ever since we got back from the Tempest,” Alisaie says. “Haven’t you gotten tired of his company even a little?”

“I haven’t seen him since we came back.”

Both Y’shtola and Alisaie lose the teasing edge and sit forward. “What?” Alisaie asks in disbelief.

You shrug, very uncomfortable with where this conversation is going. There must still be some sin eaters around somewhere that need killing, right? That seems like more fun than being subjected to Y’shtola’s and Alisaie’s very special brands of tough love. “He’s still the Exarch helping run an entire city, and I’m just…what he needed me for is done. There’s no reason for him to want to see me.”

“Did he say that?!” Alisaie asks and starts to rise.

“Oh I severely doubt it.” Y’shtola grabs Alisaie’s sleeve and pulls her back down into her seat. “You know our friend and their insecurities.”

“Hmf.” Alisaie crosses her arms but looks less murderous, at least. “Honestly, I thought that would all be assuaged by that show of affection in the Tempest. I didn’t know a hug could be so fraught and romantic.”

“I think I just surprised him.” You stare down at your cup. The tea is likely lukewarm but you don’t pour more; you doubt you’ll drink it. “I’ve been meaning to talk to him, to ask him if–…Back when we first explored the Crystal Tower, I thought maybe he might…but then he locked himself away, and that answered that. But before we went to fight Vauthry he said some things that implied maybe he…might feel something for me, but I haven’t asked him about it since, and…”

You look up and jerk back. Alisaie and Y’shtola are both just staring at you. You feel like crawling under a rock for the rest of your miserable life. “It’s stupid, isn’t it?” you say and hide your face in your hands. “Gods; please forget I brought it up.”

“The Exarch spent a hundred years trying to prevent your death,” Alisaie says, speaking slowly. “Nearly sacrificed his own life to do so, calls you things like his ‘inspiration’ with sickening amounts of adoration, looks at you like you hung the stars in the sky, and you don’t think he’s madly in love with you?”

“I don’t know if he likes me romantically.” You duck down into your shoulders again. “Just because other people think I’m a hero that needs to go on living doesn’t mean there’s any deeper attachment to it. Stories can inspire, but at the end of the day they’re just that– stories.” You take a sip of your drink and grimace. It’s not even lukewarm anymore. “Also, the stars thing…technically I did bring back the night.” You put the cup down. “But I was supposed to do that. Now that I’m not useful anymore–”

“Warrior!” one of Lyna’s soldiers says, nearly breathless as she rushes up. “The captain bid me give a message to you.”

“What is it?” you say and stand.

“There’s been sightings of sin eaters accumulating over by Sullen; they seem to be disorganized and frenzied– likely starving and desperate– but there’s a similar issue by the Ostall Imperative that has most of the soldiers occupied; they won’t get to the settlement in time. Please, will you–”

“Understood.” You grab your weapon and relief surges through you– it’s terrible, probably, considering the danger people are in, but at least you can still be considered useful. “I’ll head out to Sullen right away.”

“Wait for me!” Alisaie says, leaping after you and you hear Y’shtola and the soldier talk about grabbing Thancred and the rest of them just before the two of you run off.

 ---

There is nothing quite like a successful battle, you think as you trudge back into the Crystarium with Alisaie emanating the same sense of relief behind you. Your blood is raging and your mind is clear; you feel like you can fight a primal. Maybe two primals. You feel like–

“Thank goodness you’ve returned safely.”

You stop so suddenly Alisaie bumps into you. She curses but you don’t really listen to what she’s saying. How can you, when G’raha is standing right there, looking so radiantly healthy and smiling at you like he truly is grateful to see you.

“Coming to see us back? I hope you weren’t worried,” you tease, and are rewarded by a slight flush of his cheeks.

Thancred mutters something too low for you to hear and that’s probably for the best, as Alphinaud chokes.

“Yes, well.” G’raha clears his throat and smiles. “‘Tis always a pleasure to see you all return safely.”

“And here I thought I might be special,” you say, with absolutely no acrimony.

Alas, G’raha doesn’t blush, but there is a rather fetching mischievous sheen to his expression when he says, “There was never any doubt of that.”

You swallow hard. Is he flirting? Does he mean it like you want him to? You almost mean to continue– to see how far he’ll let you go– but apparently the healers have been warned of your coming because a few of them come to escort you to Spagyrics, and as you sit for healing and bandaging and whatever else, the adrenaline settles and you start to second-guess everything again.

“You see?” Alisaie says pointedly. “He was waiting for you.”

“He was waiting for all of us,” you say and sigh. “And I was…was I inappropriate? I don’t think so, but…”

“By the Twelve, you can’t be serious,” Thancred groans. “You were so brave not half a bell earlier, I thought you were making real headway.”

“I always feel braver after a battle. It’s…” You try to think about it. “I guess after fighting for my life everything else just seems easier.”

“Would that we could bottle that bravery for you,” Thancred huffs and stands, shifting his shoulder and thanking the healer.

You sigh. “If I had a gil for every time I thought–” Wait a moment. You can’t bottle it…but you can try to manipulate it. All you have to do is talk to G’raha immediately following a fight. And that isn’t a difficult thing to do– leatherworkers need Smilodon skins, Hoptraps breed like crazy…

Alphinaud says your name as if cautious. “What are you thinking?”

“If I’m not brave enough to talk to G’raha normally, I can make myself brave enough to talk to G’raha,” you say and punch your fist.

“Excellent work, Thancred,” Alisaie says sharply.

“Y’shtola is going to kill me,” he groans in reply.

“No; this is a great idea,” you insist, because it is. “I fight things all the time and I’m still alive! This is perfect; it’s just a little adrenaline rush, nothing big.”

“Y’shtola is going to kill you,” Alphinaud sighs and Thancred nearly whimpers.

You are going to prove them all wrong and find out once and for all what G’raha truly thinks of you.

Win-win.

 ---

So your first fight does…not quite go according to plan. You found a strange looking horse while traveling through Lakeland and tried to get a better look at it, only to be immediately kicked back by hooves and knocked out. At least the sun is still out when you wake up again, but when you try to get up your ribs are definitely badly bruised, if not mildly broken. You use what healing magics you have to patch yourself back up and carry on your way. You try not to be grateful that you can’t find the horse again.

You find a botanist in a spot of trouble and help him by gathering lumber amongst a gaggle of angry triffids. It’s perfect– you get knocked around a little bit but dodging branches and putting down angry trees is surprisingly challenging and gets your blood flowing. And you help someone. A win-win indeed.

You try to clean yourself up just a little bit and head straight for the Ocular, only to be stopped by the guard.

“So sorry, but he’s in a meeting right now; no interruptions,” the man says regretfully.

“Oh, of course!” It makes sense; G’raha is still The Crystal Exarch, leading a city, doing so many important things…

The rush fades quickly and you head back to your room in defeat. G’raha comes by later, looking so sorry when he apologizes for missing you earlier, but you do your best to wave him off.

“It wasn’t that important,” you say and thankfully a yawn overtakes you.

“I’ll not trouble you any longer, then,” he says and steps back, bids you goodnight.

You watch him leave, thinking about calling him back with every step, and yet he turns a corner without a word from you.

You sigh, but it’s only day one. Tomorrow will be better.

 ---

Tomorrow is not better.

Neither is the day after that.

Neither is the day after that.

You are a capable fighter, truly– sometimes you think it’s all you’re truly good for, being thrown at violence like a martially adept doll– but you just keep having problems. Most of them are scheduling conflicts, as G’raha is still an important man and you still have responsibilities of your own, but the healers are proving far too troublesome as they seem to intercept you ninety-percent of the time. You sourly wonder if they have a magic mirror they can watch the world in as you trundle back to your room late one night.

Or perhaps they have informants.

The next day you take a little break. Or so you tell everyone. Y’shtola seems quizzical (you wonder if no one told her about this plan of yours) and your other friends seem relieved. Especially Thancred.

“I’m just doing a little delivery job this morning,” you tell them. “No fighting; since I’m carrying goods I’ll be avoiding confrontation. I’ll be back tonight.”

Sure enough, when you get back from your delivery you spy a healer watching as you come through the main plaza, and when she sees that you’re well she goes back to Spagyrics.

Snitches. Well you’re not so easily foiled– you go back to your room and then use the aetheryte at Fort Jobb to get back to Lakeland proper. The strange horse has been spotted and a few other hunters with Clan Nutsy are keen to take the job. With help, it shouldn’t take you long at all, and G’raha is almost never busy at this time of night. It’s perfect.

 ---

Up until you get knocked headfirst into a tree. That and the fact that it takes much longer than expected means you all but storm into the Crystarium later than expected, and feeling too foul to see G’raha. Sure, you can fight a primal, but with your mood you’d chew up and spit out a Lightwarden too, which is hardly conducive for a love confession.

But then there’s G’raha, calling your name before you get too far. “I was looking for you earlier; Urianger said you’d gone to your room but–” He jerks back when he sees you and his eyes widen in surprise, and concern, and so much care that your anger fizzles like an overloaded lamp. “What happened?”

“Bad luck,” you say and sigh. “And if I see a healer I might…do something I’ll regret. I’m sorry, G’raha, but maybe we can talk later.”

“Oh no; the blood on your face is worrisome enough, but the way you look makes me think you may have a concussion,” he says. “Pray, if you will not see a healer, would you allow me to care for you?”

There is a right answer, a wrong answer, and an inappropriately desperate answer, and your tongue twists on the latter. G’raha doesn’t wait for you to speak– he grabs your hand and pulls you along behind him, and you become so focused on that (he’s holding your hand) you barely realize what’s going on before you’re in a room in the tower you’ve never seen before, where there’s a bed and a nightstand and…

Maybe you do have a concussion.

“Here,” he says and sits you on the bed. It’s a really nice bed.

“With as much as you do I’m surprised you ever sleep,” you say and feel over the soft top blanket while he prepares something or other for…something or other. Why are you here again? You try to shake your head and gasp in pain. Right. Concussion.

“Easy; no need to cause yourself more pain,” G’raha murmurs and sits next to you. He cleans your face as gently as he can and you try to hide how much you ache regardless. You feel a little clearer, a little more focused, and you try to remain that way. “And I don’t sleep much, but it looks like you’re picking up my bad habits, friend. You’ve been keeping so busy lately,” he says as he bandages the cut on your forehead. “I feel like every time I try to see you you’re out doing something or another.”

“I’m not…doing that much.” You swallow. “I’m just trying to be useful, and, well, fighting is all I’m good for.”

“It’s not all you’re good for.”

“It’s helpful,” you insist. “For me too. I needed to–…to…”

“To?” G’raha repeats and you wonder if maybe the concussion can take you now, because G’raha has always been the same when he gets one little piece of information– he hounds about it. Relentlessly.

You sigh. Heavily. If it gets too hard you’ll clam up, and he’ll be disappointed, and then where will you be. But G’raha says your name, and so you steel yourself to try. “I needed…to be brave,” you say and wince as he dabs at a cut on your hand. “I wanted…I wanted to talk to you.”

He slows his motions and then stops. “My friend,” he says gently; he’s always so gentle and sweet it makes you nearly sick with want. “What would make you so afraid to talk to me? After all we have been through together, surely you can tell me most anything?”

“It might be stupid. Presumptive,” you admit. “And I…I don’t want you to think less of me.”

Gentle fingers touch the bottom of your chin and tilt it up. You stare into crimson that somehow looks so adoring, but does he adore you as a savior…or a person? “My dear friend,” he says. “There is nothing in this world that can make me think less of you.”

Staring at him, you feel your heart pound like it’s going to burst out of your chest and you think– you can’t do this anymore. If you don’t find out you’ll go crazy; you have to know, whether it hurts or not. “G’raha, in Kholusia, before Vauthry– were you talking about me?” you say, trying to speak as fast as you can, before you lose your nerve. “Do you like me? Romantically?”

He stares at you. Dumbfounded.

Like he couldn’t possibly have predicted this.

You swallow a lump of tears and feel shame settle upon you heavier than the world itself. You look down to try and maintain some dignity. “F-forget I said anything; I’m so, so sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, I swear–”

“I thought I was obvious.”

You blink. You lift your head and some of the nausea quells. G’raha is smiling softly at you and wringing the cloth in his hands, even though it’s nearly gone fully dry. “I didn’t want to pressure you,” he says. “You seemed to shy away from me so I thought I would give you some time to figure out your feelings, for mine– mine have always been thus, ever since the first time I saw you again after you cleared the labyrinth and my heart swelled to see you safe.”

“Really? Even then?” you ask.

“Oh, most certainly.” It is adoration in his eyes as he slides his hand over your cheek and you lean into his touch. “How could you sound so disbelieving?”

“I’m just…me. I go where I’m needed and do as I’m told. If anybody else had the blessing they’d be twice the hero,” you say but you can’t help but slide your hand over his. “But you, G’raha, you’re strong and smart and kind and clever and you’ve always been so much more; are you sure you–”

He kisses you so suddenly he has to hold your shoulder to keep you from falling back. But it’s so good, you forget all about trying to talk some sense into him. He pulls back to pant for air and you try to stop the swimming of your head. You are not letting a concussion get in the way of this. “My friend– my love,” he corrects and it’s your heart that swells. “Anyone could have had the blessing and not been a tenth of what you are. If only you could see what I see.”

“I-I can try.” You know it gets tiring for people to have to listen to what you think about yourself sometimes– even your friends have gotten fed up on occasion– and you don’t want to drive him away. If he thinks you’re good enough for him, you can but try to be good enough for him– without getting knocked in the head again, you hope.

“Good,” he says simply and brings your hand to his lips to press a kiss to the back of it. “However we will have to continue this when you no longer have a head injury.”

“It’s not that bad,” you say and try to lean in for at least one more kiss, but you wobble, and the next thing you know G’raha is laying you on the bed.

“I’ll be checking in on you often to make sure that concussion isn’t severe.” He squeezes your hand and smiles. “By morning you’ll take back everything you said, for how much you’ll want to murder me.”

You squeeze his hand and return his smile. “If I didn’t drown you in a puddle in the Shroud, I’m not going to be that cross with you now.”

You fall asleep to his laughter.

 ---

When morning comes it’s even brighter (in a good way) than it has ever been. You and G’raha have breakfast together, and hold hands, and when G’raha kisses you goodbye as you leave him to get some work done you practically float across the Crystarium to share the good news.

Your friends, touchingly, are very happy for you.

Y’shtola doesn’t even kill Thancred when she finds out what incited the whole thing.

(It’s a near thing though.)