#thancredwol

[comics-in-midgar]

🌸🛼Roller Date🛼🌸

Artist: StrawderryST

[littlelordalphinaud]

Feelings

Kinktober 2023 Day 25 - READ IT HERE!

[relamune]

pt 2 of my ffxiv oc's refs, this time my special boy Styx <3 hes my #1 catboy

as with the prev ref, Im still not confident with my ffxiv lore knowledge (ive been here for like 3 months) BUT this guy is a *bit* more developed than Savvel.

tl;dr he was born in the middle of nowhere, gridania before escaping his shitty home life, became one of the transients in Ul'dah for awhile, before accidentally stumbling himself into becoming an adventurer (started off bc of the money it brought in to support himself & his son & then as luck would have it, found himself involved in the MSQ)

I often WolCred post with him as they've quickly become a comfort ship of mine :3

[anarkhebringer]

I finally realized what the exact dynamic is for Arkhe with G'raha and Thancred. It's that one post of the chat screenshot in-game that said "any weak willed and easily manipulated men online? I need some henchmen and goons."

[gyr-abania]

thancredwol commission!

[mothervvoid]

about to bring back my old thancredwol ship if im not careful

[porta-decumana]

Febhyurary, Day 14 - <3

They get a little self-conscious sometimes if people see them smoochin’.

[galvus]

prompt: temperature (free day) • words: 1041 • era: heavensward patch content • [ masterpost ] the degree or intensity of heat present in a substance or object.

Falcon's Nest would never be a comfortable place for Bianca, not after the incident preceding the reveal of Aymeric's mural. Along with the harsh winds and the powerful chill came an edge of paranoia. What had once been a beautiful, if snowtorn, plaza now was nothing more than a memory dripping in ice.

She sat on a low stone wall that surrounded the square. Every gust left her tugging uselessly at her coat. Fur-lined though it was, nothing could well and truly keep out the cold.

It was a miserable place.

Or, perhaps, she was miserable, and the turmoil in her chest was what cast everything in such a severe light.

She didn't want to spend her remaining days in Eorzea there, with snow melting in her hair and hunger in her belly because she didn't trust the food. Not that it would be any better in Garlemald, but at the very least, they might offer tasters.

“You look like you could use another coat.”

Thancred took the stairwell in front of her with careless ease. The smile he wasn't wearing might have looked the same – easy and natural, favoring the left just a little. Instead, he wore a grim expression and a bruise on his knuckles. Color bloomed between them, purple as a plum and fading to yellow as it crawled up the back of his hand.

“Perhaps,” she murmured, her eyes falling away from Thancred's face and focusing instead on the toes of her boots. “Or I should sit closer to a fire.”

“Here.”

“No, I don't—”

The weight of a much heavier coat settled upon her shoulders before she could finish protesting. He needed his coat as much as she needed another. Seeing him without one made her shiver, even with the warmed fabric of his jacket settling against her.

“It'll be colder in Garlemald,” Thancred reminded her as he dropped onto the wall at her side. “You'll need more than just coats.”

“You don't have to... look out for me like this.”

Her voice weakened as she buried back into his coat, shutting her eyes for a moment as she absorbed the heat from his body before the chill of Falcon's Nest stole it away.

Thancred stretched out his legs and crossed them at the ankles, snow already melting on the toes of his boots. He glanced at her behind a fall of silver hair, murmuring in a voice that was half-hesitant, half-fond, “Of course I do.”

The red in her cheeks was from the wind and the cold. Her nose was red, too. And her ears. And even her chin.

Bianca tucked her hands beneath the much longer sleeves of his coat, fingers curling against the warm fur the lined the hem.

“... Thank you.” A pause. “Did you only come over here because you thought I looked cold?”

“I—”

Thancred stopped short, his response freezing on his tongue before he swallowed it back and took a moment to reconsider his approach. She could see the cogs of his mind turning just behind his eye. She waited, curious.

“I wondered if you were going to leave for Garlemald without saying so much as goodbye.”

She had already given her farewells to most of the remaining Scions. Halvar held her for the better part of an hour after she asked him to take up the mantle of the Warrior of Light. Jadeite stared at her, shocked into a silence so sudden it was unlike even him. He knew better than anyone what Garlemald was capable of... and only agreed to let her go when she assured him a dozen times that she could be careful.

Y'shtola gave her hand an encouraging squeeze. Alphinaud told her that he was impressed and that this was perhaps the path she was meant to take. Tataru made her promise to keep in touch. Twice.

Her mother swore she'd raize the empire to the ground if they hurt her.

Her father, laughing, assured her mother that Bianca would be more than capable of doing such herself.

But Thancred...

She didn't quite know how to tell Thancred.

And now, she wondered who might find her sitting on a bench in the forbidding cold of Garlemald and offer her a measure of warmth.

Pulling Thancred's coat farther around herself, Bianca looked at him from above the high collar. She worked an apology around in her mind before settling on something else entirely. “I was saving you for last,” she said, her eyes squinting in a smile he couldn't quite see. “Because I knew you would hate that so very much.”

Thancred furrowed his brow, and then, he laughed.

“Gods, I do hate it.” He rubbed his bruised hand through his hair, silver glinting against the sickly bruise on his skin. “I hate being thought of last.”

You weren't, she wanted to say.

Instead, she slipped one of her hands out of its sleeve and rested it just below the red ribbon knotted around his thigh. “Not last,” Bianca assured him with a teasing tilt of her head. “Third, I think. Or perhaps fourth?”

Thancred's nostrils flared in a frustrated snort of laughter. He shoved her hand away only to hold out one of his own.

“Give me my coat back, you wicked little thing.”

“I shan't,” Bianca said as she tucked her hand back into his sleeve and tucked even more comfortably into the over-sized jacket. “You offered it to me, and it's terribly cold.”

A wind rushed through Falcon's Nest, throwing her pale blonde hair and Thancred's furred collar away from her face. She winced and twisted away from the gust, towards the man sitting beside her despite the recent change of his mind.

Rather than asking for his coat a second time, he lifted his arm and brought her in flush against his side. That way, the cold wouldn't bother her.

Only he would.

“You thought of me first,” he murmured, his lips inches above the crown of her head. “You can tell me if I'm very far off.”

Her heart thumped – heavy and quick – and she felt a warmth rush into her cheeks.

“You aren't.”

The wind whistled past again, but she didn't feel the bite of it.

[relamune]

kiss your favs

[porta-decumana]

[galvus]

prompt: fluster • words: 537 • era: shadowbringers • [ masterpost ] make (someone) agitated or confused.

“Do you want a drink?”

Bianca looked up from the pages of sketches Alphinaud had only recently finished of people they'd met along the way on the First and their traveling companions. They were heavy with charcoal and rippled at the edges from the quick watercolor wash he'd given them as a prototype for future works. She set them aside on the ornately decorated table for three they shared with no one and peered up at Thancred.

She expected an offering of drink, but the exact verbiage was different. In fact, the words he chose felt purposeful, as if he remembered. Their past conversations were numerous... innumerable. He knew how she felt about alcohol, but he was still willing to take a chance.

“Are you getting one?” Bianca asked. Her nose twitched, the skin tight with windburn. “If so, I suppose I could partake.”

Surprise dawned on his face, much the same as the sun dawned on Kholusia behind him. A sliver of white-gold rose behind far off mountains, throwing haphazard smears of pink and orange and pale blue across the sky and turning the clouds into puffs of pulled cotton. The colors of sunrise turned Thancred's pale hair to a soft petal pink and warmed his skin to gold.

The shift in color suited him.

He turned to make his way to the bar, but against her better judgment, Bianca stopped him with a sudden, impetuous, “Wait.”

Thancred pivoted back in her direction. “Change your mind, did you?”

Bianca's heart sped. She wet her lips and glanced away for a moment to dredge of what remained of her courage after such a long trek. But when she looked at Thancred again, she wore a smile. It was a small thing, but it put genuine little wrinkles into the corners of her eyes.

“You look beautiful,” she said. She meant it.

“I, ah—”

Thancred looked stuck, caught between the urge to recover by way of returning the favor and the unwillingness to admit how he felt about anything stronger than passing interest. He stopped himself before he could stammer, but still, all he could manage was a parry of, “What a foolish thing to say, when you're sitting there, looking like that.”

Her eyes widened, smoothing out the smile lines. She stared after him as he turned around to make his way over to the bar for drinks at sunrise. They deserved them. They deserved even more than that.

Bianca picked up Alphinaud's drawings again, leafing through them with renewed interest as a flush rose into her cheeks.

And of course... Of course.

Of course the last page was of them, sitting on a set of weathered steps in Amh Araeng, their heads bowed close and their hands held between them. She could still taste the iron in her mouth from her bitten tongue. She could still feel the way his gloves gave as he curled his hands tighter around her own. And she could see the red dirt still caught in his hair, painted in the colors of sunlight.

“I have to commission Alphinaud,” Bianca murmured, her thumb brushing carefully at the rippled edge of the page to keep from disturbing the charcoal. “I have to.”