Febuwhump Day 2: “i can’t take this anymore” Alt: hostage situation Fandom: Final Fantasy XIV Characters/Ship: Sanson Smyth/Guydelot Thildonnet Triggers/Content warnings:

“You’d best hold on to this,” Sanson’d said, handing him Gylbarde’s journal. In case it all turned out to be a trap after all, he hadn’t said, too preoccupied in hurrying to answer Nourval’s call. And Guydelot’d watched him go, relieved to know the Warrior of Light would have some backup - sure, his sister bard was a force to be reckoned with, but they’d seen for themselves just how many allies Nourval had to call on. Two were a damn sight better than one, and Sanson would be more than fine with the Warrior of Light there to give Nourval’s cronies a proper thrashing.

And then the Warrior of Light came back alone.

“But where’s Sanson?”

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Febuwhump Day 1: Mind Control Fandom: Final Fantasy XIV Characters/Ship: Sanson Smyth/Guydelot Thildonnet Triggers/Content warnings: Mind control (…obviously) in the form of tempering

When he was thirteen years old, Guydelot watched some poor fool who’d been tempered by Garuda put to death. Ugly business. He’d come stumbling in out of Coerthas laughing and raving, howling to the sky about his “lady,” and… Guydelot remembered the looks of grim helplessness that passed between the guards on watch. None of them noticed him: few people did; Guydelot was an expert even then at avoiding being found when he didn’t care to be - otherwise they might have sent him away before driving a lance through the poor mad bastard’s heart. He’d had nightmares about it for weeks. Sometimes he still did.

This is worse.

This is Sanson.

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I made a bad meme

The good news is my FFXIV hyperfixation is alive and well. The bad news is it’s all tied up in the BRD quest NPCs instead of Stephanivien, where it could at least be productive.

The other good news is at least I haven’t made any RP blogs for these muses that will inevitably burn out.

But this does mean fanfiction.

Oh man shakin’ off that writer rust with some morning-after Guydelot/Sanson fluff

Now with convenient AO3 link.

@enoughofabastardtobeworthknowing asked:

Scarcely out of mourning, Francel looks nearly a corpse himself, pale and drawn - as though losing Chlodebaimt has killed something within him, as well, some vital piece of his soul. Never the brightest flame in their family, his brother’s death has left Francel a guttering ember, sure soon to flicker out and go cold.

Not the ideal commander to send to Skyfire Locks. Left frigid by the Calamity and remote by design, the Locks make for a dismally lonesome posting… and they are within a day’s march of the Steel Vigil. Or what remains of it.

Mama wept when Francel insisted upon it. 

There has been, Stephanivien decides, enough weeping. If he cannot be merry, at the very least, he supposes they’ll all be best served by some cheer: it will not do to send Francel off as though his own family questions his aptitude. ‘Tis more than clear now that the gentlest of his siblings will not be swayed from this course - stubbornness befitting a man of House Haillenarte, after all, dismaying though the cause itself may be. 

And so he smiles, ignoring Francel’s look of wariness at his approach (for nearly all the family has tried to persuade him to remain home, to seek a safer post, to not throw his own life after Chlode’s, to be less determined to follow in Chlodebaimt’s ill-fated footsteps), and Stephanvien claps a hand on his youngest brother’s shoulder with a grin.

“To the highlands for you, then, is it?”

Caution, like a rabbit sensing a snare. “The Locks require a new commander, after-”

“After the previous commander’s retirement, of course! Of course.” The man couldn’t bear to keep the post, after learning what had befallen the Vigils. So close, so close, and unable to help, unable to save more lives, too snowbound and blizzard-blinded to reach either fortress in time. “But the garrison is still much unchanged, of course, and do you know what that means?”

“I… I hesitate to hazard a guess.”

Stephanivien grins. “Why, friends, of course! You’ll need to make friends among the soldiers and suttlers of the Locks, dear brother, and not merely your own men, but those of the other settlements in the area. Lord Haurchefant holds the command at Camp Dragonhead - I’ve no doubt he’ll introduce you to his men, as well.”

Something like life surfaces in Francel’s deep-shadowed blue eyes, and for the first time in what feels like years, ages, eternities, he smiles.

Stephanivien considers that progress, for now.

Thank you, All Saints’ 2019, for giving me what I never knew I needed:

Admiral Merlwyb just straight fucking decking Asahi.

No one:

No one at all:

Not a fucking soul:

Haurchefant Greystone after being restrained and told he cannot go help the WoL:

Lord, I finally got there in the end.

I’ve been replaying my first job lately, and wow

Final Fantasy XIV, or as I will now be calling it, The Machinist Quests On Repeat