#thancred is also there. hello thancred

[fisherrprince]

OUTTA THE WAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[wind-up-thancred]

pestering mr waters before hes even had his morning coffee.... thats not very nice :/

[storytellers-and-co]

Tansui's Adventures - #9, Allies and Enemies

By the time Tansui had delivered the treats and gotten the news, it was starting to be evening again - and he was more than ready to just curl up by the stairs and sleep. However, Papashan informed the thaumaturge about something alarming… 

Someone of importance had gone missing. And the rounds were to find some clues. And now, knowing someone was out there, alone and possibly in danger, how was Tansui supposed to sleep? Answer, they couldn’t. And thus, the new mage set for searching this missing person. 

Thankfully, it didn’t take too long - natural curiosity and their ability to attract situations was for once playing in their favour… until, as the roguishly handsome stranger with white hair and quick with so fittingly put it, the dead came out to play. 

Tansui hadn’t fought against Voidsent in what felt like years, and yet they’d always remember the stench of one. Thankfully though, they had some help this time - the stranger taking majority of the heat while Tansui could focus on slinging his spells. Magic from both the mage in training and the Voidsent flashed in the night, illuminating the otherwise dark landscape - the steel of the strangers sword glinting at every spell and attack slung. 

Even when additional company was brought in, or when the claws came far too close for comfort, or when they were starting to run awfully low on fire-power for a short moment, Tansui felt oddly at ease - knowing someone was there, had his back for however short of a moment, that they weren’t in this alone for once was a comforting thought. 

One last Astral Fire was what finally took the Voidsent down, allowing Tansui to take a step back, catch his breath, and let the stranger help with the lady. She was apparently his responsibility, or some sort - Tansui might’ve slipped on his focus roughly there, distracted by a crystal on the ground….

[humblemooncat]

Is that he??

My favorite grump??

[asteriasfallingstarsandtears]

I know I definitely didn't notice it the first time I played, but it's just so obvious now that he's wearing a Dark Crystal XD (and Ody!)

[myreia]

Bound by Faith

CHAPTER TWO: PHILAUTIA

Chapter Rating: T Pairing: Aureia Malathar (Warrior of Light)/Thancred Waters Characters: Warrior of Light, Thancred Waters, Urianger Augurelt, Ryne, Alisaie Leveilleur, Alphinaud Leveilleur, Y'shtola Rhul, Cyella Chapter Word Count: 8,787 Story Word Count: 14,132 Story Summary: With their enemies defeated and the First saved, the Crystarium is alive with celebration. Despite the joy around her, Aureia is uncertain about the next steps to take. So is Thancred, for that matter. The puzzle of their lives has sat incomplete for years, but finally this last, precious piece may be able to slide into place. Spoiler Warning: Spoilers for the end of Shadowbringers base. Notes: This chapter does not contain explicit sexual content, but a later chapter will.

🡒 READ ON AO3 🡐

“We really should have known better,” he adds after a moment. “Once she sets her sights on a matter, there’s no stopping her.” Urianger raises an eyebrow. “Indeed,” he says soberly, lowering his wine. “And thy pride in her is more than palpable.” “Am I proud…?” He chuckles, shaking his head at himself. “Yes. I suppose I am.” “Then why dost though linger, Thancred? If I may—and no, I must insist thou resist the temptation to interrupt and heed mine words for the duration of this moment—when I didst speak with Ryne earlier this eve, I sensed some disappointment that thou hast withdrawn unto the outskirts. I am uncertain what she envisioned for tonight, but to remain uninvolved and standing on the fringes mayhap communicates to her that thou dost not share in her excitement.” “It is not that, let me assure you! And you’re one to talk. I haven’t seen you partaking in the festivities either. Have you considered that Ryne may be just as disappointed in you as she is in me—” “I have been contending with Feo Ul’s most gracious of ambassadors—” “Of course you have—” “—who are—it is paramount to note—little scoundrels.” “Urianger, you do realize that the day will come when you will not have pixies to use as an excuse?” “Aye. But the day when our massy souls depart the First to return to their vessels upon the Source is not yet upon us. There is much to be done beforehand to ensure safe passage from one world to the next.” Ugh. Thancred’s shoulders slump. “Please, I am begging you, never use the word massy like that again. Or refer to our bodies as vessels, for that matter.” Urianger smiles serenely and tips his wine glass to him. He sighs and scratches the back of his neck, shaking his head. “Perhaps I should clarify. It is not that I have no desire to partake, but rather that my head still spins from all we’ve accomplished. What we bore witness to. As detestable Emet-Selch and his whole rotten ilk are… I cannot so easily forget what we saw in Amaurot. And—gods damn it, I cannot believe I am saying this about an Ascian—perhaps I do understand something of him after all. That desperation to cling to what you loved… to what was lost…” “The horrors of that bygone era hath given us much to ponder, ‘tis true,” Urianger says gently. “Thou art not alone in thine preoccupation. There are many questions whose answers may be forever beyond our knowing. Mayhap they will haunt us for the remainder of our days—or perchance we will expose their anagogic secrets. For now, that fate remains unknown. But it does not behoove us to indulge in such preoccupations on an eve such as this one, and so it is my turn to beg something of thee. Set aside the temptation to linger on it for the duration of tonight. There will be sufficient time for that anon.” “I know.” “Look to thy loved ones. This time is for them and them alone.” “I am. I do. And you do know you’re included in that, Urianger—” “I do not speak of myself and thou knowest that plainly.” Thancred pauses, a lump forming in his throat. Much like Y’shtola, Urianger has a way of striking through to the heart of the matter—even when it takes him twelve sentences to get there when one would suffice.

[avanchnzel]

idk it's pretty much all i have drawn the past week and a half . im slowly losing my mind. im insane im unwell im autistic etc etc. sorry for the multiple insane shifts in art style im trying things out and also i remembered how i used to draw in like late 2021/early 2022 and its taking over

also . [throws these at you] kaju's playlist | kajucred's playlist

[headcanons-n-shit]

Hello

Your newest post reminded me i had an idea. The bois comforting wol who is having a nervous brakedown from all the stress. Bonus Ardbert.

I really like your stories. Especially the angsty ones.

(TAZ The Breakdown plays in the background)

(Mild shadowbringers spoilers)

Thancred literally (accidentally but still) disassociated so hard from the stress that he gave up his body to the bad guy for a bit. If anyone gets what youre going through, its probably going to be him. Hes not going to waste his time on empty platitudes: hes going to get you a glass of water, a warm blanket, and a hot meal, and let you cry it out on his shoulder for as long as you need to.

(And if that still doesnt help, well. Sex is still on the table. Its rarely a good idea, but hes all out of those.)

Urianger is probably breaking down with you lets be real. Every future my mans has ever read has included world-ending catastrophe, and, sure, youve thwarted it every time (usually with his help) but. What if this time you dont? What if this time you fail???? Its an unreasonable amount of stress for one man to be carrying. He probably does a fantastic amount of fantasy weed to cope and still all it takes is seeing you break down for him to also start blubber-crying.

Graha seems kind of detached and distant at first. "Shower water food" he commands you, in the voice of Lynas grandfather the Crystal Exarch, firm and uncompromising and impossible to disobey, and you might miss the way his voice and smile are strained. The way his hands clench and unclench at his sides. Hes never regretted turning back time to help you save two worlds, but. Its times like this that he wonders if he shouldnt try again to give you a happier ending.

Estinien is a firm hand on your shoulder, a steady shoulder to lean on, because he gets it. The feeling of being trapped in your own body, puppetted by powers so much greater than you can imagine, almost greater than you can comprehend... Youre breaking down for the both of you, honestly, because hes spent so long training the iron discipline to resist nidhoggs influence that he doesnt know how to anymore. This is. Cathartic. For the both of you tbh.

Aymeric wishes in this moment, more than anything, that he could just. Just be with you. Out on your journeys, giving you support by your side instead of from a distance. And he knows, he knows, that the support he gives you is important, that his ability to move nations in your favor has helped far more than any single sword at your side ever would. But he bears the weight of a nation while you bear the weight of a star, and that just. Doesnt seem fair to him.

Haurchefant knows that theres some things that hot chocolate cant fix but. Its a good starting place if nothing else. Something warm and sweet right now couldnt hurt, neither would a soft blanket and a roaring fire. He'll sit with you, bundled up together, and just listen if thats what you need. Or he can talk-- he has plenty of embarrassing stories about Artoirel that he hasnt shared yet. Either way, he'll happily help you wipe your tears away when youre done, and then drop a delicate kiss on your forehead.

Stand tall, he says. A smile better suits a hero.

Sidurgu is surprisingly good at this. Or, maybe not so surprising? Rielle is very mature for her age, but shes still a child. He probably does this whole song and dance every other week. And you feel a little bit like a child, the way he bullies you into the shower and then bundles you up in blankets and pushes food at you, but. Beneath the gruff words and scowl you can tell hes worried. Frustrated. This is exactly the kind of injustice that as a dark knight he swore he would fight, but hes just one man, there isnt much he can do about the desolation of the star. But he also needs you to know that he'll always be in your corner. Whether in this little way or if you need him to help you kill a god, he'll always come when you call.

BONUS

Ardbert has never felt so helpless in his life. He cant touch you, cant be a shoulder you can cry on. He cant even fetch you a glass of water. All he can do is stand there and watch as you break apart in your bed in the Pendants, and its. Its torture, worse than anything any ascian could ever conceive.

Still. He does what he can. And if all he can do is sit at your bedside, his hand hovering half-through yours in a mockery of touch while he tells you stories of his adventures, or friendship and triumph and happier times, well. Its the least he can do.

[mjtdraws]

hello... i am once again crawling out of my dank little cave to bring you some art. I was very much stuck in a terrible case of artblock (curse youuuuuuuu) but i think it's getting better again. Here are some pieces for your enjoyment :3 Also, I have finally reached Shadowbringers in my own little journey through FF14 and the Thancred brainrot is back (as if it ever left me hahahahahahaha)

[lovehotelreservation]

Thrust System - Trust System [6/7]

Summary: While delving into the depths of a dungeon, you wanted to be sure that your companions were people that you could trust and who would have your back.

In this case, they’d also have your ass too.

Rating: NC-17

Pairing: Thancred/G’raha/F!Reader/Urianger/Estinien

[Previous Chapter]

[Next Chapter]

hello 🧍‍♀️🧍‍♀️

thank you 🙇‍♀️🙇‍♀️

please enjoy 😭😭

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

What a journey it had been.

Not only within the maddened frenzy that led up to your time here at the Lunar Palace, but simply overall.

In the span of your adventure thus far–whether through hard-fought victory seized by your unwavering spirit or punishing failure that left you humbled and perhaps even scarred–you learned to adapt to any situation as necessary with the various abilities and skills you had attained and honed, whether on your own or under the wing of a mentor.

If you were going to keep your loved ones safe, this was absolutely crucial.

If Estinien needed to be healed while the others were busy squaring off with the foul creatures of a dungeon, you were ready to conjure Cure to salve his wounds.

If Thancred or G’raha needed more force to send a magitek monstrosity crumbling down, just a wave of your hand to call upon the power of the Ifrit was all you needed.

And it wasn’t to say that you were ill prepared to ever draw the ire of a vicious beast to mitigate its assault and attention away from Urianger while he gathered his magic to raise up a shield for your party.

You were quite handy with a sword and shield, in fact.

However, with no armor, no clothes, only time would soon tell and witness how you were going to withstand this encroaching and relentless barrage that was meant to target you and you alone.

Naked, weakened from being constantly subjected to the whims of your unorthodox prison, flushed and at a loss for breath–you could only do your best to cover your nude form with your hands while you inspected the faces of your dearest companions.

Merely phantoms drawn forth by the palace’s zealots, your giggling and mischievous phantom copies dissipated into the air the moment they set foot into the throne room after fulfilling their goal. A goal that was currently unbeknownst to you, but one that needed no further explanation.

With each step they took towards you, darkened eyes contrasting with the vibrant pink glow of their bracelets, having the four fully focused on your body as they drank in the sight of your present blushing distress made matters become increasingly clear:

One way or another, you were going to be taking on Thancred, G’raha, Urianger, and Estinien.

Considering you looked to be the most level-headed one out of everyone’s crazed states, you could have called each of them to reason, to snap out of their stupor and break free from the influence of the bracelets.

But how could you when your body was the most affected by the palace’s contraptions?

Your companions still had the strength to stand and step forward.

You were left on the floor, wondering and yearning for who would make the first move and finally relieve the ache that was possessing your body.

Would it be Thancred, with his once roguish Casanova ways stirring from slumber to leave you squirming beneath his teasing and experienced touch as he whispered utter filth into your ear before having you bear the might of his thrusts, now strengthened by his might and experience as a Gunbreaker?

With how poor G’raha was at hiding his feelings for you, it would be little surprise if he were to so much as pounce right at you to demonstrate his long-harbored yearning by flooding your core full with his seed.

As for Urianger, you were well aware that even he–with his impeccable grace and immeasurable patience–could only maintain his near saintly composure for so long before he would beseech to bury his face between your thighs.

And certainly not to be forgotten, Estinien deemed you as his partner for a reason and so it was certain that he would make sure that you remember how the shape of his cock would feel inside of you.

The answer as to who would be first and finally bring you relief was not coming fast enough, and thus, after gathering your thoughts, you finally spoke up at last, your voice soft yet heavy with need,

“Will you all help me?”

They replied all at once.

Armor clanked against the floor while a flurry of clothes soon joined, with hungry lips claiming yours and their hands meeting your body even faster.

The four surrounded you, crowding around where you were currently sitting on the floor of the throne room.

Knights to their majesty, disciples to their god–there was reason for this all to transpire within the center of the throne room of the once dignified and anointed Lunar Palace, which had witnessed decades upon decades of this very ritual across time with the likes of nobles, army commanders, to even more daring members of The Forum looking for thrills outside of scrolls and regulation.

Now, it was you and the men you loved with all your heart.

Your lips were claimed by G’raha’s in the neediest of kisses as his tongue was desperate to plunge into your mouth for a sample of your taste. For Estinien, he already had a handful of your breasts, groping your flesh and pinching at your nipples. 

Urianger was occupied with kissing along your neck while his fingers–ever experienced with flicking through the cards of his tarot deck–were preoccupied with feathering and circling over your clit. This worked in tandem with Thancred, who had damn near slid across the floor in order to plant his face right in-between your thighs, his experienced tongue dragging and stroking along your drooling core.

A bit of relief for the overwhelming ache that was wracking through your body, which–within your crumbling sense of mind–you sought to return the favor by bringing your hands to grasp at and caress G’raha’s and Urianger’s stiff cocks. And with the added attention of Estinien and Thancred amidst your overwhelmed state, between a few kisses, caresses and licks, it was not long until you were arching your back with a cry as you were brought to orgasm.

The first of many for this ritual.

Especially as Thancred did not hesitate to lift himself up off the ground to kneel before you instead, his fingers reaching for the base of his cock while he readied to slide his thick girth right into your core. A delighted hiss escaped him as he was quickly welcomed by hot, velvety tightness.

“Now this was worth sprinting all over this damn dungeon for.”

His arms wrapping tight around you, Thancred drew your body close against him as he quickly began to push into your core at a vigorous pace, stealing a kiss from your lips as he did so. At the same time, he proceeded to lift you up so he could be the one to lay on the ground instead, keeping you right on top of his toned and chiseled form instead.

With the pop of a bottled salve followed by heavy and heady breath, G’raha coated his dick as fully as he could with the thick and viscous solution, his ears perked and tail swirling with anticipation, all while his crimson eyes were trained on your backside, his heart fluttering at the idea of fantasy becoming reality. Of course, while his mind had long since succumbed to the influence of the Lunar Palace, he still was careful with applying the salve’s contents upon the tight ring of your asshole.

“If relief is what you need, then I gladly pledge to be used at your desire.”

He meant to be more thorough, but the helpless mewl for him to start fucking you from your lips had his mind going blank, his hands clutching at your hips, his lips seeking your neck, and his cock plunging right into your ass. By contrast to Thancred, the pace he began to work himself into was slower yet focused more on pushing in as deeply as he could, wanting nothing more than to savor this sensation, this moment of being one with you at long last.

And certainly, not and never to be left out, Urianger and Estinien were already standing close by, delighting in any kiss from your lips or strokes of your palm upon their dicks. While you were much too preoccupied with getting hammered into by your other companions, they were biding their time for their turn.

Because both were going to devastate you thoroughly.

Over and over, plunging in and out in tandem, it wasn’t long until both Thancred and G’raha were pouring their hot sticky cum inside your core and your ass–the former with a roared curse while the latter with a delighted hiss–as you squealed with your own orgasm.

You sagged right on Thancred’s chest, taking comfort for the touch of his hand stroking your side while G’raha kissed along your shoulder blades.

“Surely, your stamina can go a few more rounds, right partner?”

What you felt next was the warmth of G’raha’s body heat dissipating from behind as he withdrew out from you, just before you found yourself being carried and lifted to be sandwiched upright in-between Urianger and Estinien as they stood, with the former purring out,

“And rest assured, for all that we shalt subject thou to, I will dedicate mine spirit to healing your aches and satisfying your indulgences.”

Estinien’s hands were cradling your ass as he lowered you right onto his long, stiff cock, with Urianger sliding his dick into your core soon afterwards, the two in unison as they speared inside of you at a brisk rhythm.

You scrambled for more support, more contact, more touch. Your arms wrapped around Urianger’s neck as you drew him in for a kiss, which he was more than happy to oblige. Were it not for Estinien’s sturdy arms having hooked beneath your thighs both to help keep you up and to keep your legs parted and open for the two to freely pump their cocks in and out of you, you would have hugged around your darling scholar’s waist as well.

Regardless, you remained spoiled by the stark contrast between the two.

Lips ever so used to speaking in flowery elegance danced upon yours for kisses while teeth that once bore the fangs of draconic possession sought to leave bitten claim upon the side of your neck.

Soft and slender fingers that were more familiar with strumming through countless tomes sought to circle around and toy with your nipples whereas hands that were roughened by a life of harvest and battle continued to cup and grope your breasts.

Trapped in-between Urianger and Estinien as you were made to bounce on their cocks, a glance to the side had you witness Thancred and G’raha hungrily awaiting for your attention while both stroked along the length of their stiff dicks.

What had transpired thus far was merely a sampling.

The true feast was yet to come.

It was by this thought that your eyes rolled, your lips cried, your body trembled.

Right after this orgasm was when time began to blur in overwhelming euphoric delirium.

You could recall the sight of G’raha’s hand grasping at the back of yours as you remained on your hands and knees while he was positioned right behind you, a gasped chant of your name matching the hurried tempo of his thrusts as he continued to pump your core full with his seed without restraint.

At some point you found yourself in the middle yet again, kept standing by Thancred pounding away into you near endlessly from behind, his hands gripping your wrists with ease while your body sagged before him in pleasure all while your mouth was fed with the full length of Urianger’s dick as his fingers stroked through your hair as his breathless praises mingled with Thancred’s cheeky ones.

The sensation of Estinien’s lips smothering yours for kisses was practically etched onto your body, especially as he continued to have you bounce up and down his dick while you were seated on his lap, his hands guiding your pace as they fondled and squeezed your ass.

By this point, the lascivious clutch of the palace’s wicked influence had long since waned. What transpired now and onwards was simply the pursuit of pleasure, the fulfillment of instinct, and–most of all–the release of amorous feelings that had long been trapped away, obscured by a myriad of reasons. Your journey thus far brought you here to seek passage to the moon. Yet as you remained in the center between the four who made your adventure, your life that much more complete, you would only continue to see heaven and its stars over and over again.

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

i was originally going to conclude everything on this chapter but i thought it was better to properly wrap things up by adding another piece--esp with how long this chapter had taken to finally be finished and posted ; v ; thank you so much for your patience and i hope to see you all for the conclusion!!!

[lilvulpix-alex]

*chews a hole through your wall* hello. here are my idiots

Raine Kurusu

Race: Viera (Veena)

Age: 23-27 (ARR-EW)

Gender: Male

Jobs: White Mage, Reaper

Height: 5’8

he’s eepy. eepy bnuuy and also kinda grumpy because he would rather be sleeping than saving the star. loves his friends so so so much and will probably be found snuggling Thancred or napping on him. might steal your coffee when you’re not looking. had a murderous Reaper phase but he’s fine now don’t worry about it

Mocha Coffee

Race: Miqo’te (seeker)

Age: 21-25 (ARR-EW)

Gender: Male

Jobs: Summoner, Dark Knight

Height: 5’2

This catboy has one braincell and he uses it for summoning and loving his friends. he’s an orange cat but pink. he’s also very baby. probably has wii music playing in his head at all times, it’s fine. full of love and also murder.

ALSO THANK YOU @sae-mian FOR THE BEAUTIFUL SCREENSHOTS OF MY BOYS ILY <3

[yumisara]

Hey there! First, I want to thank you so much for uploading all of these Relink sprites -- I hadn't been able to find them anywhere else (and Id content is so scarce in general). You're a godsend! If it's not too much trouble, I'd like to request Rackam's portraits, please! I find them so charming. Thank you again!!

(Also, I see you're a Thancred enjoyer, so I'm manifesting substantial Thancred content in Dawntrail for us both.)

Hello! Thank you for the kind words <3 I hope we are blessed with the many and substantial Thancred moments as we have been STARVING

Here is our favorite helmsman!

[chryza]

oh my god im so glad someone agrees with me that post-ew is kinda sucks BUT ALSO THAT ZERO WAS A GOOD PART. so many people seem to just Hate her and i do not know why

It SUCKS ASS. I’ve talked extensively about why I hate it but it sums up to “it does nothing to wrap up the loose ends left by Endwalker and to give emotional closure to Endwalker’s themes and kick start the next expac’s story” the way literally everything other post-expac plotline did (which has unilaterally kicked ass). Instead we get a fanboy’s wet dream of ripping off FF4 in a way that does nothing to serve the plot and merely exists as a set piece that feels out of place and directionless.

It did start really well, I loved the premise of it, and I think the strongest section by far was 6.3–notably, because it helped to tie up loose ends in Garlemald. And of course, Zero and Vrtra kicked ass. But there was so much fanservice that failed to serve the plot and generally left me feeling like “okay cool?”

Also the fact that they just didn’t have a Thancred to the first to see Ryne. Hello. What. Y’shtola can come with us and see Runar but Thancred can’t see Ryne? Okay. EDIT: apparently I just invented this in my head which speaks to how astoundingly awful it is. The fact that I had to overwrite the actual story with something that at least sort of resembled GOOD WRITING

Also just. The writing is bad. There’s no foreshadowing, and no clear sense of direction. It simply moves from point to point and expects us to feel something about it.

[driftward]

Title: FFXIV Write 2024 - 14. Telling Characters: Zoissette Vauban, Solita Grey Rating: Teen Summary: Solita has two hands and two clients. One's a gadfly, the other's an idiot, this is a vexing evening. Notes: Weird Wild West AU, a Desertwalkers story

Solita was enjoying the pleasant turn in the evening at the Cat's Eye cabaret.

Her date for the evening had momentarily vanished, saying he wished to go refresh himself before retiring for the night. The man was a well meaning Hrothgar gentleman from Bozja. Apparently interested in local opportunities which he could leverage for his concerns back home. Kind enough, but she got the distinct impression he was not quite taking her seriously. He asked the right sort of questions, asking for her expertise on many matters, but was perhaps a bit too fond of his jests, and often seemed distracted. He had not been quite rude, nor quite condescending, but, well.

It was frustrating. But that was a common enough state of affairs in her line of work. She took a sip of her champagne. For all that, though, he had been charming, and had a likable demeanor. If he did not wish to heed her, that would be rather more his problem than hers, and she had high hopes for the momentary entertainments of the evening. In the morning, he would be on his way, and she could review what she had learned with the others.

For now, she found herself simply enjoying the atmosphere of the cabaret. She exulted in her senses, the taste of fine liquor on her tongue, the slightly spicy smell of people and cedar and food and drink that wafted through the air, the thrum of the music through the floorboards, the visual spectacle of dancers on the stage. Even the auras of the place were flowing and pulsing pleasantly, the Weave choosing to reflect everyone's good mood.

Her work could be frustrating at times, but it also had its perks, and moments like this were among them. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and just took it all in.

"Ah! Mz. Grey! I was hoping I would find you here!"

She pondered, for the briefest of moments, about the sheer relief and joy she might feel in getting help from Thancred to hide a body.

When she opened her eyes, she could see the bright starriness of Zoissette's aura before she caught sight of her big stupid grinning face.

Her ears went back immediately.

Zoissette didn't notice. She had one of her notebooks open, and was excitedly pointing at her entries in it.

"The petrified forest was a revelation! I have finished my spectral analysis, and you would not believe the aspects of the aether I found within them. Well, maybe you would, actually. I managed to confirm some of your-"

Solita reached up and grabbed the collaring on Zoissette's dress, pulling her ear down to mouth level.

"I am with another client tonight," she hissed. "Make an appointment."

Zoissette's expression immediately shifted to mild horror, and she cleared her throat as Solita let her go. "Oh, I apolo-"

"Why hello! Who's this!" boomed a cheerful voice.

Solita took a deep breath and forced a smile as she turned. The Hrothgar gentlemen had returned, and he took her hand, bowing deep to give it a gentle kiss on the back of her hand, before turning his attention to Zoissette, giving her a friendly smile.

"Hello, dear," said Solita stiffly. "Zoissette, this is the esteemed Pretorad Desasch, a gentleman from Bozja. Pretorad, this is Zoissette Vauban, who I believe was just stopping by on her way home."

Solita watched Zoissette sharply. Not giving a full introduction could be considered rude, but she did not particularly care just this moment. However, as she spoke, she could see Zoissette shift. The woman stood up a little straighter. Her previously open expression faded to a detached half smile. Her posture shifted, her arms pulling in to her sides, and she somehow made herself look more ... presentable? Elegant?

Not quite. Solita could now see what Thancred had already pointed out to her in an earlier conversation. Zoissette was a member of the gentry, possibly even nobility. She always had a certain poise and posture to her, but previously it had been open, care free. Now she was closed off but presentable, lightly guarded, somehow in that twilight between welcoming but not truly universally approachable.

This was a woman who was used to the upper echelons of the spoken and unspoken languages of power. A place where Solita herself lived these days, as part of her work.

"Pretorad Desasch, I do not believe I have known the pleasure," said Zoissette, her voice more airy than usual. Distant. "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I must offer my sincere apologies, however, as the Mz. Grey has the right of it. I am only recently returned from my errands, and perhaps should be heading for my home."

Zoissette offered a curtsy. Her words and tone were polite. She was being mildly deferential.

"Nonsense," said Pretorad, as he wrapped one arm around Solita and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Any friend of Solita's is a friend worth getting to know. Come, stay with us a moment! Tell me, Lady Vauban, was it? What do you do around here?"

He gestured at the bartender while Solita continued to stare daggers at Zoissette. "I would say she is perhaps more of an acquaintance."

"Well, as mentioned, Mz. Grey has the right of it, and I do not wish to bother either of you much longer," said Zoissette, her face still wearing that distant half-smile. "But if the sir must know, I am a naturalist. My interests lie in the local flora, fauna, and histories."

"Oh, and were you trying to hide this gem from me, dear Solita?" asked Pretorad, laughing. "Or perhaps you were eager to retire for the night? But please, Lady Vauban, entertain me for a few questions, would you?"

Zoissette tilted her head, a question. But in the motion was a subtlety. The tilt was towards Solita, and angled so that Solita could see her eyes despite her glasses, see that she was clearly looking to her. Solita, after a moment's hesitation and thought, gave the slightest nod. There was little helping the matter now, she decided. Might as well get this over with and quickly, if possible.

Zoissette gave Pretorad a curtsey, and Pretorad waved his hand towards the barkeep. "Splendid! Simply splendid. Three drinks, my good man, whatever they like, and I'll have some of that local specialty, what's it called? Mezzal?"

"Mezcal, sir," said Zoissette politely. "I shall follow the gentleman's example."

Solita simply gestured for the barkeep to top of her glass, and he nodded. It did not take him long to provide their drinks to them, and Pretorad leaned his back against the bar, facing outward. Space enough for Solita on one side, but able to keep his attention on Zoissette on the other.

"A naturalist! Tell me more. Anything currently have your interest?"

"Verification of local histories and folklore while I survey the local landscape. There is a cornucopia of information to be gleaned for those who seek it. I am only recently back from an expedition, and Mz. Grey's services proved invaluable in its success."

Zoissette gestured at Solita as she spoke, and bowed her head towards her.

"Surveying, hmm?" said Pretorad thoughtfully. He glanced over at Solita. "And how did the seer's insight help with that?"

"She knows the local area far better than I, and its histories, as well as having an intimacy with the land that I lack. Her findings, combined with my own, enabled me to create a more accurate map with increased fidelity and previously uncharted information on aetheric densities in the area I explored."

"Fascinating, fascinating, simply fascinating! Aetheric densities, hmm? Well, wonders never cease, when it comes to wonders! Any plans for another expedition?"

"Ah. Well. When she is once more able to spare some time for me, I was hoping to gain her insight to the fields to the north, and perhaps begin another survey."

"Hmn. Might I be able to convince you to show me where you are speaking of?"

Zoissette hesitated, slightly, but after a moment, she pulled a map out of one of her bags, and carefully laid it out over two nearby barstools. She pointed as she spoke. "This is not a political map, so kindly overlook the lack of recognizable landmarks. I can tell you that Stonewood, where we are now, is here; my prior surveys happened in the grasslands not so far from here. And here, near the southern buttes, and here, in the petrified forest. My next survey I intend to perform shall be here, the outer ceruleum fields."

Pretorad looked over the map with a practiced eye, rubbing his chin. "Interesting," he murmured. He glanced over at Solita. "Some of these are places I too am curious about. I notice you updated the topographical markers, and made note of mineral veins and other such areas of interest. And these markings?"

"The aforementioned Aetheric readings. You may use the guide in the lower corner, sir."

"Hah hah! Of course, of course. And next, I cannot help but notice that is near the outer ceruleum fields. I believe they are yet virgin. Perhaps trying to get in on a little early tapping action, hmn?"

Zoissette stiffened slightly, and while Solita remained outwardly relaxed, she felt a twinge of alert.

"My interests, I assure you sir, are not commercial in nature."

Pretorad laughed at that. "Of course not, of course not! A naturalist would never sully their good name with such matters, I am certain. Why, they know every number except the economic, am I right? The quantity of every mass, but the value of none, to mangle a phrase? Hah hah hah!"

Zoissette froze for a moment, and Solita was immediately very on edge. She did not know fully which insults that Zoissette was prone to taking exception to, but this was one of Pretorad's not-quite-rude comments she herself had been diplomatically ignoring all night. But now she wondered if she would be having to deal with her client being stabbed.

But then, Zoissette laughed, a hollow, tittering thing. "Ah, of course, good sir, of course," she said stiffly.

"The sir may know the price of ceruleum futures, but 'tis the naturalist that sees the value beyond the economic. Such true value may be a question of taste, but if the good sir cannot see nor understand that which the naturalist values, he will find himself all the poorer for it," said Solita bitingly. She was not sure why she had been so deferential tonight, anyroad. The man was pleasant, but becoming a boor, and she nor her reputation would suffer fools.

Galling though it was to be stuck mediating between a fool and an idiot.

"My, I'd almost forgotten what a sharp tongue you have," said Pretorad cooly. He reached over to gently curl a finger under Solita's chin, and smiled kindly at her. "I hope to not find out anything about the sharpness of those teeth, later.

"But! You are right, and I would be more the fool to not heed your counsel which I am paying handsomely for, after all," he said, letting his hand drop. "My apologies to both of you, ladies."

Zoissette relaxed, and curtsied. "I accept your apology, and choose to take no further offense, sir."

Solita just made a small noise of assent and sipped her champagne.

"Hah! Well, thank you, my lady. My, you certainly know your manners," he said thoughtfully. "And your terrain," he added, gesturing at the map, which Zoissette reached for and began to roll up. "I wonder what you might say to a potential sponsorship, assuming you aren't self sponsored or don't already have one? Even if you do, I think I would be best pleased to offer my support. Or even just purchase first rights, whatever that would cost me. You've the seer's faith, it seems, and now that I've seen your work, I think I would like to pay for my own faith in your future work."

Solita watched this exchange with mild interest. Zoissette did not tense up again, and this was rather more like the business sort of conversation she had been hired on for with Pretorad.

"I appreciate your interest, sir," said Zoissette. "However, I find myself deferring to the Lady Grey. My work would not be possible without hers. I would prefer that you confer with her, and perhaps she can serve as a necessary intermediary between your business and mine."

"Oh, of course, of course," said Pretorad thoughtfully, rubbing his chin. He set his drink down. "Ah! I have forgotten my case and papers back at our table from earlier. How remiss of me to not bring them along for such important discussion. If you will give me a moment, I shall return."

He bowed to Zoissette, who curtsied in turn, then turn and gently took Solita's hand to give it a kiss. She gifted him with a smile, and a gentle wave.

As he left passed out of close distance, she turned on Zoissette just in time to see the woman deflate, turning to hold herself up against the bar.

She looked some kind of miserable, and Solita felt a pang of concern despite herself.

"I had forgotten how tiring all this could be," she said. "I meant to apologize earlier, Mz. Grey. I would not intentionally interfere with your work. And I must apologize now. I think, that I will be taking my leave."

Solita looked over at where Pretorad apparently was just finding his glasses in his briefcase, and beginning to flip through some papers he seemed to always have near or on him.

"He shall wonder at your absence," she said.

"Ah, the usual excuses shall suffice. I hate to be a further burden, but just tell him I excused myself with a case of the vapors. I doubt he is the type to be rude enough to insist on inquiring further after that. He should recognize the excuse for what it is." She paused. "Should." Another moment. "I hate all these stupid games."

"You seems to excel at playing these games of words and meaning," said Solita, feeling faintly baffled.

"I excel at being -polite-, which I choose to be," said Zoissette stiffly. "And - no. Forget it. I apologize, again. Good night, Solita."

Solita frowned at her as she went. "Hold a moment, if you would."

Zoissette paused.

"...you can make arrangements through Mz. Gohtawyn, if you still wish to speak to your findings."

Zoissette turned to her with a pained smile, pushing up her glasses, and just shook her head slightly.

"I will not waste any more of your time on this," she said. "Do not worry. If you are truly curious, I will publish to our local library before next season. Your contributions will be noted, and I do intend to seek you out before I make for my next survey. Take care, Mz. Grey."

Zoissette left, allowing no time for further comment, and Solita was left at the bar, feeling oddly bemused at the exchange.

Pretorad returned, with his case, holding some papers, looking around curiously as he did so.

Solita gestured to him with a champagne glass. "The Lady Vauban has retired for the evening."

"Has she now? I suspected as much. Damned shame, but understandable. I hope you're not too upset at my attempt to poach such a gem from your hand. I was told of your reputation, but to see the exact caliber of person in your orbit! Hmn. And her bearing... former military on top of all that, I'd wager. I have been short sighted."

Solita wanted to protest, but did not, instead just swirling her champagne in her glass. "More the fool you, then. You know my reputation. I can hardly fault you for not taking me at face value, but perhaps you might have verified such yourself."

"Hah! Forgive me my methods, but if you'll allow, I find that I have done exactly that."

"Well I hope you find yourself satisfied," said Solita, finishing her drink. She was tired of tonight, between these two. "Perhaps we might retire for the evening as well?"

He set down his papers. "Business before pleasure, if you don't mind. Indulge me?"

"If you insist."

They both sat down at the bar, and he began to go over his interests in the area once more, conversations they had already had. But this time, she noticed, to her rather deep annoyance, that he was paying more attention this time around, seemed more inclined to heed her words. Earlier in the day he had been more boisterous, more cheerful, almost at play. But now, he was clearly being more serious about matters, taking notes, deferring to her very expensive expertise.

She took the matter professionally, and hid her annoyance. At least he was finally taking her seriously, and frankly, that did give her a sense of satisfaction. As their conversation winded into the late hours and resolved, and they at last retired, Solita had one last annoyance, however, as she found herself wondering after one Zoissette Vauban.

[autumnslance]

Hi, hello!

My extremely specific assumption is that you are a stickler for details, and that really shines through in your writing. If we don't know exactly what kind of sweat Thancred is having during... moments... it's not worth writing, right?

But honestly, it's the details that make good writing great, don't you think? :)

I do love me some details, whether it's little tidbits of canon lore sprinkled in, headcanons alluded to, or...personal descriptions in certain moments. And when writing emotionally and/or physically intimate moments, those little details are definitely key for mood and effect. I maybe pay more attention to those details in the writing I struggle with, like romance and sensual and sexual scenes, cuz I'm just not sure I'm getting it "right."

I've had to rein in my descriptive details quite a bit; as a teen, I was chronic overwriter. I tried to get down every single little detail--color, texture, shape, smell, etc--to make it perfectly clear what I envisioned in my head. I've had to learn to wrangle that impulse, to learn there's no way to beam my specific mind's eye image to a reader's brain, that I do need to trust in and allow for readers' own imaginations. I've had to learn to unpurple my prose and go for the important details to get the point across. A page of descriptive exposition is boring, it has to do other work too. Learning to be succinct is its own skill.

This is also still a struggle in my original writing. Getting hung up in world building and remembering that not all those details need to be expounded in the text itself. Feeling despair over not knowing enough about certain topics and reminding myself I only need to worry about research once I know what I actually need to research, and even then, only a few key details are necessary to get the verisimilitude and the point across.

It's easy to get hung up in the details, in a lot of ways, as reader, analyzer, and writer. It's knowing when to pull back on those impulses that's the trick.

[elizabethrobertajones]

"Hey, I just heard something really weird... What was that?"

"Shhhh. It's alright. Y'shtola knows what she's doing."

"Haha, yay! <3"

Day 3: Date Night | First Dates

... don't worry about it.

Frog has been pining for Y'shtola since ARR, but found her so intimidating and cool and composed and all the other things Y'shtola wants to be seen as that Frog felt too young and scruffy and uneducated and so on in counterpoint to even think Y'shtola would notice her in that way. Someone that refined had to have really high standards, right??

Five to six years down the line they know each other so much better and understand each other, and Y'shtola has a bond with Frog that while Frog might not be confident in it, might be described from outside points of view as "Kind of creepy." (Thancred) "Always up to some damn witch things." (Estinien) and "I don't want to know what they do for fun, actually." (Alisaie)

After studying black magick really hard to impress Y'shtola, it was applying that knowledge to Garlean Reaper techniques and meeting Zero that really got Frog onto a path to having a reason to approach her personally for a favour within their bigger mission. Spending time with Zero and falling for her very easily made Frog wonder about her own reaper avatar and who it was, and Y'shtola was up to the challenge of summoning and invoking the voidsent in a stable form they could communicate with, using Zero's innate abilities and connection to the Thirteenth as a focus.

Together the three of them wrote and enacted some truly hair-raising experiments that would have got them shunned in ancient Mhach for the brazenness with which they poked at the Void, but in the long term it paid off and Frog got to meet and make friends with Fransi :)

Also, belatedly, she did learn (from Estinien, who was a mutual confidante of all three without telling any of them shit until Frog confronted him with suspicions) that while she and Zero had been hooking up, Zero and Y'shtola had also been an item ever since they'd brought her back to the Source with them, and hitherto unthought-of concepts occurred to Frog that the great gap of pathetic yearning for Y'shtola might yet be crossed.

Like, not yet. But maybe!

The yearning has a sort of vague direction, sort of like fumbling blindly into the void with an improvised spell trying to find one tiny voidsent to say hello to?

Anyway this counts as a first date for this branch of the Frogicule. I mean, they're out the house and having fun...