#kaleidofic
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astrologybf.bsky.social
Ifan makes Steak some baklava for his name-day.

#kaleidofic | #sixsentencesaturday
“Not bad.” Ifan blinked and paused mid-chew, then gave the Seeker to his right a sidelong glance. Steak’s gaze was still affixed on Syrcus Tower in the distance, nor had he moved from where he sat with his feet dangling over the parapet. But Ifan noted subtle signs of better humor; his ears and tail were more relaxed, the weight etched into his face seemed to have eased… and more importantly, a second slice of baklava seemed to have vanished, with the only traces of its passing being the honey Steak was licking off his fingertips. “Mm?” Ifan hummed, swallowing his bite and giving Steak a gentle, teasing smile before flicking his chin at the display of gluttony. “’Not bad’, he says. Just got your appetite back, then?” If there was any doubt the Jackal of Pearl Lane felt even a bit better, it was erased with the way Steak took his time in letting the magician’s question linger; slowing in the cleaning of his fingers with his tongue, and at long last pulling his eyes free of that far vista with a gleam in his deep crimson irises which set Ifan’s gut fluttering. “You could say that,” he answered, his voice carrying a purr of renewed and deeply thankful interest. “Aye.”
January 11, 2026 at 4:38 PM
astrologybf.bsky.social
So this year I'm really hoping to finish the Pathos of Things, and tbh I'm feeling more confident about it since taking another break has given me a chance to both refine the outline and the revise existing chapters as well as get the waka translations into a more satisfactory state.

#kaleidofic
ひさかたの 光のどけき 春の日に しづ心なく 花の散るらむ In these spring days With tranquil light encompassing The four directions Why do the blossoms scatter With uneasy hearts? - Ki no Tomonori, Poem 33, Hyakunin Isshu In the employ of the richest man in all Eorzea, and possibly all Hydaelyn, there was among the many gentlefolk a man who—though he was not of any noble birth—was favored beyond all the rest. So great was the confidence invested in him by his master that the man was given charge of his affairs in the far lands beyond the eastern seas. They had their methods of communication, naturally, but the vast distance between Othard and Eorzea meant the gentlemen had been afforded broad discretion when it came to furnishing his master’s plans. If Lolorito Nanarito was something of a merchant-king, then young Hancock Fitzgerald was no less than a prince; and the Prince of the East Aldenard Trading Company was ever-dutiful when it came to securing the advantage of its chairman. “It wasn’t your fault, Ifan," Lyse said, suddenly. Ifan blinked again and hummed before meeting her gaze. “Hm?’ Lyse stared at him intently for a few moments before speaking again. “What happened at Rhalgr’s Reach," she said. "It wasn’t your fault.” The magician gazed back at her, silently, as his face eased into something inscrutable. It was a look she'd nonetheless witnessed before, and as always it frustrated and unsettled her to see someone roughly her age looking so… Weary. “...Things are a bit different when you’re the Warrior of Light, Lyse,” Ifan replied, quietly. Lyse considered pressing, but thought better of it. He wasn't wrong; she didn't have the Echo, nor did she know what it was like to live in Ifan's shoes. There wasn't anyone who did, really… and that meant there wasn't anyone he truly trusted for advice, when it came to serving Hydaelyn. At least not since Minfilia had left. So she simply nodded, and gave Ifan a small smile. “All right," she said. "Well… I’ll take the Warrior of Light with me, and you can go be Ifan for tonight. How’s that sound?” She followed up what she felt was awkward wording with a slight cock of her head, but the offer seemed to move him deeply: he swallowed, clearing his throat and blinking fiercely for a few moments. “Sounds like something I’d expect you to say," he chuckled. “I appreciate it.” The Warrior of Light's smirk widened. He seemed to revel in the moment… but then his face grew tighter, as a faint cast of suspicion settled on it. "…You really want to do this?" he asked, his voice almost a whisper. "You're not just… being told to? Or doing it out of pity?" Hancock glanced at Ifan's hand, watching as his fingers flexed in nervous tension. The urge he'd felt when watching him use chopsticks reared its head again; the urge to thread his fingers in between Ifan's and squeeze them. An urge he had denied himself out of propriety, for want of bravery, and now risked missing satisfying as one who spends too long on thought can miss reality—to ponder the moon's meaning, when each moment brought cloud cover closer. When Ifan's hand loosened, his fingertips were met by Hancock's. The merchant's own digits were manicured, fair-skinned, and stark next to the magician's rougher bronze—but roughened only by experience, for he had the gentlest hands the Prince of the East Aldenard Trading Company had ever felt. Grazing his fingers over the bronzed knuckles, Hancock smiled and kept his gaze on the magician's. "What do my eyes tell you?" he asked, quietly. Alisaie: “Were it only regarding Thancred, I would be less hesitant. But you saw how he was after Rhalgr's Reach... what if he gets himself into trouble trying to settle the score?” Alphinaud: “True. Our new acquaintance did mention that sekiseigumi are rather merciless…” <Alisaie says nothing, but displays an inscrutable facial tic at the mention of Hancock. Amogus.> Lyse: “I think we should give Ifan more credit than that; he took his linkpearl with him, after all. And besides... maybe what he needs is a bit of a break where he can call the shots, you know?” Alisaie: “The last thing he needs is being put in a situation where he feels like he has no one upon which to rely, and that becomes much more likely when he is both in his present mood and by himself. <Her tone is exasperated and blunt, at first, but then she makes a noise reminding Lyse of Y’shtola.> “What if he forgets to eat?” < V obvious it's from a place of love.> Alphinaud: <Scoffs quietly and mutters.> “I think that to be the least likely of all possible calamitous outcomes.” Alisaie: “Be serious, brother.” <U lil shit.> <Lyse thinks quickly as to how to defuse the situation.> Lyse: “All right. Why don't I give him a call to check in and let him know we're sitting down to supper, and if anything seems fishy we can go look for him. Sound good?” <Prays it'll work so Ifan can avoid having to lie about where he is, at least for the night.> Alphinaud: “That sounds more than reasonable.” <Sis plz.> Alisaie: <Teenager who’s being asked to go to the bodega to pick up detergent level sigh.> “…Very well.”
January 2, 2026 at 7:16 PM
astrologybf.bsky.social
The Pathos of Things
Chapter 3: Flowing Under Scarlet

~3.7k words | General | M/M | #wolhancock

The Scions and their host arrive at the Ruby Bazaar, and Hancock sets the stage for the next leg of their adventure - over lunch, of course.

#ffxivwrite | #kaleidofic
"Even powerful gods had not heard of Tatsuta River Dyed in crimson, and flowing with water." Ariwara no Narihira, 千早ぶる Chihayaburu As they left Kogane Dori, Hancock briefly entertained the thought of taking a route passing the Garlean Embassy. Such would further emphasize how well established that same Empire was in the Far East, even in a neutral country like Hingashi, yet in the end he deemed the Scions well enough aware by now that such a gesture felt, to him, needless and crass. Fate, for her part, contrived to give them the reminder anyway. A trio of Garleans, fully clad in armor of the Eastern mode, passed by them on the way to their own embassy as Hancock and the Scions neared their destination. They didn't halt, nor did they greet the Scions verbally, and their visors meant it was impossible to tell if they had even noticed them to start with. But the mere fact of their presence was sufficient to put all of Hancock's guests on edge.
April 9, 2025 at 8:32 PM
astrologybf.bsky.social
Screw Your Courage

~2.1k words | Teen | M/M | #woljacke

Captain Jacke has a confession for the man who isn't yet known as the Warrior of Light. It doesn't go well.

CW: Thieves' Cant.

#ffxivwrite | #rarepairweek | #kaleidofic
A cover for Screw Your Courage by AstrologyBF Jacke Swallow leans against the wall next to an entrance to the Drowning Wench in Limsa Lominsa. He has his arms crossed and a miserable expression on his face as he glances back towards Ifan Kaleid, who's walking away from him towards the lights of the Drowning Wench... but also glancing back, towards Jacke. An excerpt from Screw Your Courage It was a perfect night in Limsa Lominsa. Azeyma's warmth had yet to fully dissipate despite her absence, and Menphina's face shone in a waxed moon over a calm, wine-dark sea. Only a few wisps of cloud obscured the heavens, and the scent of salt brought on the breeze was mingled with the medley wafting up from Hawker's Alley: that of fish and spice and all the other things Llymlaen's bounty furnished those who dwelt in her fair city. It was a perfect night for two young men to share a drink up at the Drowning Wench, overlooking the aetheryte, and that's precisely what Ifan and Jacke were doing. The pair had chosen to avoid the evening crowd inside, and took their mugs out to the wide boardwalk circling the Mizzenmast instead, where Ifan sat at Jacke's right side while their legs dangled over the edge. They talked, and drank, and laughed, and enjoyed the simple pleasure of a dear friend's company, and as usually happened it was Jacke who finished his drink first. He set down his empty mug and took in a breath. It was indeed spectacular, the view, and though Jacke never once tired of it he nonetheless found his gaze drawn to the magician at his right to take in the details he'd long since committed to memory: the ash-brown hair which Jacke now knew grew nearly all over, soft skin which got yet softer at the juncture of his thighs and neck, and eyes sparking the same feeling that Jacke felt whenever he gazed out at the sea. Strange to think an arcanist he met out on the street would end up being worth looking a bit daft, and doing something foolish like… Ye got vital whids to cut? Then cut em. Tell him.
June 13, 2025 at 9:12 PM
astrologybf.bsky.social
Alrighty so now that Rarepair Week has come to a glorious conclusion I'm gonna pop all of my entries into a single thread for your reading pleasure + include a little bit about what I was going for with each fic since each was centered around a particular theme 🧵🔽

#kaleidofic | #rarepairweek
June 16, 2025 at 12:07 AM
astrologybf.bsky.social
what if i worked on an origin story for the shadowrun au what then (WIP) #kaleidofic
Once upon a time, there was a boy who was visiting his relatives in Syria. His ancestors had dwelt by the Orontes since the days when Abram and Sarai left Ur, and Gilgamesh mourned Enkidu, and Isis scoured the earth for any trace of her beloved. And though they had endured the countless changes in both climate and of government, the wars of the early twenty-first century had seen his family seek better lives elsewhere; somewhere safer, much as it grieved them to depart. Nonetheless, they did their best to live and raise their children in their homeland's custom, and when it was both safe and well within their means they returned to visit that and those who they had left behind. One of them—namely the boy's great uncle on his father's side—had greeted him upon arrival in Damascus with a gift intended to pass on that love for their traditions. It was received with the elated grin of a book-lover making and concealing plans to stay up past his bedtime reading, and though neither he nor his great-uncle knew it at the time… that old and leatherbound edition of One Thousand and One Nights would end up changing the boy's life. For Irfan ibn Khalid al-Rahman, however, it was simply a very good Friday.
July 4, 2025 at 6:32 PM
astrologybf.bsky.social
a bit late but here's a thing set during the binding coil

#kaleidofic | #sixsentencesaturday
“I find myself wondering why you left the Ossuary,” said Alisaie, still watching the magician where he knelt. “You seem competent enough.” Ifan paused his sketching and pulled his eyes away from the half-completed rune in chalk, glancing over at Alisaie and briefly making a face at her less-than-flattering choice in words. “Still with them, technically,” he said, giving the Elezen a shrug before resuming what he was doing. “Just not in a capacity where I can climb the ranks. I got to a point where it seemed like I’d sampled everything they had to offer, but it wasn’t enough to stop the old itch from rearing its head.” Alisaie’s left eyebrow rose at this. “Itch?” she asked. While he didn’t pause again, Ifan’s sketching slowed while he considered how best to elaborate. “The feeling I get whenever I can see something but not quite reach for it,” he said. His tone was casual, but there was an air of both impatience and nostalgia in it. “Like… a pot about to boil over on the stove, or a bowstring held taut for too long; just have to let it loose and run its course, and see where it takes me.”
November 25, 2025 at 4:55 AM
astrologybf.bsky.social
What Maketh The Man

~1.5k words | Mature | M/M | WoL/Kazagg Chah

The Warrior of Light and Kazagg Chah spend a quiet moment ruminating on their choices.

CW: Implied/Referenced NSFW, Teratophilia

#ffxivwrite | #rarepairweek | #kaleidofic
A cover for "What Maketh The Man" by AstrologyBF. Ifan Kaleid and Kazagg Chah are standing together, with the camera drawn in close so that both of their faces are out of frame. Instead the emphasis is on Ifan's nudity save for a pair of hot pink shorts, bordered in black and patterened with stars, and the size of Kazagg Chah's hands; Kazagg's hand can quite easily wrap around Ifan's waist, and he's nearly doing so as he draws Ifan in for a kiss. An excerpt from "What Maketh The Man" Not for the first time that day, Kazagg Chah found himself staring at underwear. He hadn't had much of a chance to scrutinize the pair in question earlier: they'd come off rather quickly, after all, being shucked into a pile with all the rest of Ifan's clothes, along with the loincloth Kazagg wore to cover himself. And though the Amalj'aa's attention (and the Hyur's mouth) were both soon very fully occupied, the shocking pink which had been straining over the magician's rear remained affixed in his mind's eye—and prompted him to pick them up and take a better look, during a lull in their private activities. He understood smallclothes in theory. Hyur and folk of like anatomy were rather… delicate, at least compared to his own kind, hence their preference for garments that to him seemed rather constricting. Yet he couldn't understand why anyone would wear these in particular. They were silk, dyed pink and trimmed in black, and cut so that the fabric strained around the body's curves rather than fit comfortably. And if by some miracle their color didn't draw the eye, the pattern of pale stars scattered over the shorts most certainly would. Kazagg supposed that visual pleasure was the point, but then again they were mere underwear; hidden away beneath Ifan's robes most of the time, and soon enough pulled off whenever revealed. They seemed uncomfortable, impractical…. costly, from what he understood of cityfolk…. and the only other word which seemed to suit… Ridiculous.
June 11, 2025 at 5:42 PM
astrologybf.bsky.social
All Under Heaven

~2.2k words | General | M/M | #wolhien

The exiled Prince of Doma spends an evening stargazing in good company.

#ffxivwrite | #rarepairweek | #kaleidofic
A cover for All Under Heaven by AstrologyBF, created using gpose for Rarepair Week 2025. Ifan and Hien sit beside each other on Azim Steppe at night, gazing up at the stars. It's a clear and moonless night; the Dawn Throne and the mountains beyond are visible as dark shapes in the background, lit up by pinpricks of light from campfires and the central aetheryte. The constellations of the Ewer (made of blue stars) and the Bole (made of yellow stars) are visible in the sky; the Ewer to the left, where Ifan sits, and the Bole to the right, where Hien sits. An excerpt from All Under Heaven. Far away from Doma, and even further from Eorzea, two men lay in the grass near Mol Iloh as they stargazed together. One of them, the Warrior of Light, rested with both hands behind his head and a small smile on his face, while to his right the errant Prince of Doma bore a frown whilst propped up on his elbows; squinting upwards at the firmament, and failing to perceive an ewer in it. He'd no reason to believe Ifan was pulling his leg. And he was certain that the word 'ewer' carried the same meaning in both Doma and Eorzea. But for all his sheer determination and the crisp, clear sky where nearly every star was visible thanks to the moon's waning crescent, the grouping of blue points of light looked like no vessel his mind's eye could picture… and Hien was at last forced to concede. A weighty sigh escaped him, and his frown slid into a sheepish smile. "I confess…" he said, letting his gaze fall to the magician at his side. "I cannot quite see it as you describe, my friend."
June 9, 2025 at 2:03 PM
astrologybf.bsky.social
The Dialectical Method

~3.2k words | Explicit | M/M | Thancred/G'raha

G'raha Tia and Thancred Waters settle their differences in scholarly fashion.

CW: Explicit NSFW, Oral Sex, Light BDSM

#ffxivwrite | #rarepairweek | #kaleidofic
A cover for The Dialectical Method by AstrologyBF. Thancred Waters and G'raha Tia are in a room in Revenant's toll; Thancred has his back and hands pressed up against a wall while G'raha has him boxed in with a kabedon under Thancred's right arm, while G'raha's right hand is noticeably absent from the frame. His tail is curled and his ears splayed back, while Thancred's mouth hangs open in a moan. An excerpt from the Dialectical Method. The days after the storeroom incident had seen a change in the relations between Thancred Waters and one G'raha Tia, and not one for the better. Prior to their "altercation", G'raha had been making every human effort to avoid being left alone with Thancred, or otherwise be given cause to speak directly to him. But ever since the Hyur had confronted him and learned of his concealed resentment for the way he'd treated Ifan in the past, G'raha seemed to be attempting to avoid the very sight of him; which Thancred found quite understandable, given the terms on which they'd last parted. Thancred paused. His hand—which had been reaching for a book—instead went to his neck, and his lips twitched. The memory of G'raha's bite stung just as sharply as his actual teeth, in Thancred's mind, and not wholly unpleasantly. Shock and pain tempered by a strange thrill knowing the Seeker had his jugular within his mouth, followed by another shameful rise within his breast upon the realization he'd been marked, and that he'd need to hide the evidence that G'raha had laid claim to him… the feeling lingered long after the mark itself faded, and there were nights when Thancred was alone mid-wank only to find his mind had conjured that damn Seeker with his red eyes and his smooth voice and surprisingly strong grip. He finished, but he always felt a bit wretched after. Thancred shifted where he stood in a vain effort to relieve the pressure in his breeches. He tried to think of something else, and resumed his hunt for the tome which Urianger had misplaced.
June 14, 2025 at 10:20 PM
astrologybf.bsky.social
Something Stain'd

~4.1k words | Explicit | M/M | #wolardbert #wolexarch

The Warrior of Light takes some time to himself while settling in on the First.

CW: Explicit NSFW, Masturbation, Voyeurism, Orgasm Denial, Freak Matching

#ffxivwrite | #kaleidofic
A cover for Something Stain'd by AstrologyBF. The image is divided into three vertically stacked panels. The first panel is a close up of Ardbert's eyes, where he's glaring lustfully. The second panel is a close up of Ifan's nude stomach with his hand trailing down towards his groin. The Third panel is a close up of the Crystal Exarch's face, hooded but bearing a wry smile. An excerpt from Something Stain'd. Within a Pendants suite in the Crystarium, a man who’d set aside the mantle of the Warrior of Light was having trouble keeping his attention fixed upon the words within his book. There was little obvious reason for distraction. The shutters had been closed to keep out the unending light staining the sky, the lamps within the suite were dimmed save for the one on Ifan’s bedside, and the walls of solid brick kept the city's ambient sounds muffled almost to silence. He was comfortably reclined atop the bed—still clothed, but absent anything restrictive like his boots and gloves—and his tunic was near-fully unlaced. It even smelled pleasant, owing to the potted orange trees giving off a sweet aroma from where they sat flanking the window. Yet it was less a presence in the room pulling his focus from the pages, and more the absence of the pain which he'd been carrying since the day he had been branded by Ifrit. An absence owed to one who was himself absent, no less; his mysterious hood-wearing host, whom the folk of Norvrandt called 'the Crystal Exarch'.
June 21, 2025 at 5:06 PM
astrologybf.bsky.social
The Pathos of Things
Chapter 5: A Midnight Moon

~5.2k words | Teen | M/M | #wolhancock

Finding himself with a free evening, Hancock takes a walk which leads him unexpectedly into familiar and desired company.

#ffxivwrite | #kaleidofic
"As I was wondering whether or not I had seen it by chance It became cloud-hidden; the face of the midnight moon." Murasaki Shikibu, めぐり逢ひて Meguri Aite When the Prince of the East Aldenard Trading Company was but a boy, his mentor told him that what sabotaged most ventures was ultimately lack of bravery. Hard work was essential to succeed in business, yes, as was good luck… but neither made much difference if one weren't bold enough to leap upon a chance should it present itself. A surfeit of caution could be just as ruinous as a deficit for those who sought to get ahead in life, so sayeth Lolorito Nanarito. As with all the chairman's counsel, Hancock kept the lesson close to heart. He trained himself in insight and perception, studied history to learn of its successes and mistakes, and with that skill and knowledge both refined the faculty of calculating risk to a high art. An art which served him well: for within the space of a few hours, the Scions of the Seventh Dawn had gone from hating Lolorito and his company to… Well, still likely hating him, but at least now they were willing to accept some measure of his grace. And as promised, Hancock furnished them with leads to follow in the matter of their missing allies, along with lodgings on the company's expense. These arrangements made, all that remained was waiting for the other Scions to return.
April 13, 2025 at 5:37 PM
astrologybf.bsky.social
The Pathos of Things
Chapter 4: Dear and Hateful

~4k words | Teen | M/M | #wolhancock

Starting their search for Yugiri and Gosetsu, Ifan and Lyse pursue an ever-smaller list of leads - something not helping their already troubled moods.

#ffxivwrite | #kaleidofic
"People seem dear, yet people seem hateful When vainly I brood about the world This self who broods about things." Retired Emperor Go-Toba, 人もをし Hito mo oshi As was discussed, the Scions spent the afternoon on their divided tasks. There was no way to tell how many days they would be staying in Kugane: for even if they found Yugiri and Gosetsu quickly, there was still the further obstacle of finding passage across hostile waters—which would likely take time, to say nothing of coin. Thus, Tataru stayed behind and set about finding them lodgings, while the others began following the leads Hancock provided. The list was short, but the folk of interest were spread out across the city. Therefore the Scions chose to split up into pairs that they might expedite the search: Alisaie and Alphinaud would question people in the city's southern half, while Lyse and Ifan would head north across the bridge, back to Shiokaze Hostelry and then on to the Rakuza District. It began quite promisingly. Alphinaud had furnished them with very well-done sketches of Yuguri and Gosetsu, and the hostelry's bartender had small difficulty recalling that she'd helped the pair find captains who might bear them over the Ruby Sea. But that information came at a price; the innkeeper would answer their questions, provided they consented to her answering questions about themselves to others—leaving a clear trail for any who might wish to follow them.
April 11, 2025 at 4:57 AM
astrologybf.bsky.social
Feeding Fire

~2k words | General | M/M | WoL/Oboro

Oboro Torioi finds himself asked to teach the Warrior of Light how to use chopsticks.

#ffxivwrite | #rarepairweek | #kaleidofic
Cover art for Feeding Fire by AstrologyBF. Oboro and Ifan stand in front of a fireplace. Ifan is holding a pair of chopsticks, while Oboro is reaching out to tenderly hold the back of his hand. Neither their faces or the room is visible; the focus is entirely on where their hands are meeting, backlit by the hearth. An excerpt from Feeding Fire. Ifan Kaleid was a little bit of a perfectionist. One wouldn't think it, looking at him. His casual speech, lazy bearing, and proclivity for games meant that the Warrior of Light gave the impression of a man entirely unbothered by a need for seriousness. He seemed more partial to activities like reading, napping, eating, kissing boys, or playing around with magic to any form of manual labor, much less responsibility. Indeed, Oboro had assumed that he was little more than a lazy and unserious adventurer, when they had met. So it was fitting that Karasu of all people was the one who gave Oboro reason to start looking at the strange Eorzean more carefully. The crow and the magician shared a great deal in common, as it turned out: they both had flairs for the dramatic and penchants for antics, and both were prone to causing consternation for their teachers—as Oboro would discover when he took Ifan under his wing. Yet both were also ruthless in their competence, and equally as stubborn when it came to mastering whatever thing they'd set their hearts on learning. Even if it was as banal as, say, learning to use chopsticks.
June 15, 2025 at 8:11 PM
astrologybf.bsky.social
Naught Coin Can Buy

~2.5k words | General | M/M | Lolorito/Papashan

The chairman of the East Aldenard Trading Company finds himself playing host to an unexpected, but very welcome guest.

#ffxivwrite | #rarepairweek | #kaleidofic
A cover for Naught Coin Can Buy by AstrologyBF. Lolorito Nanarito stands with his arms crossed in front of the fountain outside Arrzaneth Ossuary, upon which is inscribed the phrase "Divinity is the Color of Gold" in Eorzean common. Hancock and Papashan stand on either side of Lolorito with their backs turned towards him, but both are still glancing over their shoulders in his direction. And while the city is lit up by broad daylight, all three stand above deep shadows. A blurb from Naught Coin Can Buy by AstrologyBF. The headquarters of the East Aldenard Trading Company may not have been a statue cast in bronze, yet they were nonetheless a monument to he whose likeness towered over Vesper Bay in lieu of an aetheryte. Lord Lolorito had acquired the building nearly five years past, and for a song. Its skeleton was one of the spires ringing Ul'dah's city walls, which had been hollowed out by the Calamity and thus made prime for redevelopment by an enterprising buyer. And though it had indeed been renovated and made fit to serve as center for a company spanning the star, Lolorito had insisted the exterior be left unchanged compared to how it was before Dalamud's fall: ochre stone and blue-glazed tile, rising high yet not so high as to outshine the palace, nor either of the Traders' sanctuaries. Hardly a monument to splendor, and hardly notable beyond its place of prominence above the Sapphire Avenue Exchange… but appropriate for one who sought to build a legacy which would endure as long as Ul'dah itself stood. Twelve willing.
June 10, 2025 at 3:25 PM
astrologybf.bsky.social
The Pathos of Things
Chapter 6: Until Night Lightens

~6.8k words | Teen | M/M | #wolhancock

Ifan and Hancock get to know one another over drinks and a quiet walk to the theater.

#ffxivwrite | #kaleidofic
"The span of time I sleep alone, sighing, until night lightens Can you at all know how long that is?" The Mother of Udaishō Michitsuna, なげきつつ Nageki tsutsu Of all the ways the man of many wiles that was the Warrior of Light had wandered, he didn't think a stop for a quiet snack would put him in good company. Yet here he was: sitting in a Hingan restaurant, his fingers intertwined with a cute man's, as he gazed into his eyes with a delirious half-grin. Neither of them spoke, nor paid the restaurant's ambience any attention. All the world had turned to hazy watercolor in the background, and all Ifan could do in those few moments was enjoy the sight of one Hancock Fitzgerald grinning at him—without his spectacles, no less, showing off his stunning violet eyes. But at last the merchant's gaze left his, and drifted to his freshly refilled cup. "I have a proposition for you, should you be interested." Hancock's eyes returned to Ifan as he raised the sake to his lips. Ifan's eyes flicked down to Hancock's mouth before meeting his gaze again. "I'm all ears," he replied. Hancock sipped his drink, then spent a silent moment savoring its aftertaste. "As we both seem to wish to get to know one another, through each others' eyes…" he said, setting the cup down, "...perhaps we might start at the beginning, and trade our way into the present?"
April 18, 2025 at 10:10 PM
astrologybf.bsky.social
The Pathos of Things
Chapter 2: Best Left Unsaid

~4.8k words | General | M/M | #wolhancock

Hancock escorts his reluctant guests on a brief tour on Kugane, and gets a small taste of his charge's complications.

#ffxivwrite | #kaleidofic
"Thoughts, better left unsaid, For there is truly no one thinking like myself." Unknown, 伊勢物語 Ise Monogatari Scrutiny and prejudice were no strangers to the prince of the East Aldenard Trading Company. The favor of Lord Lolorito was in many ways like Nald'thal's scales; wont to change at the minutest shift, and carrying equal measure of both weal and woe. And he who had earned pride of place could keenly feel the leaden counterbalance native to his master's grace. For Hancock was obliged always to act with prudence and with vigilance. The luxury of ignorance was a thing not even the chairman's immense coffers could afford, and thus he bade his right hand maintain constant watch for opportunities for profit… or for threats against the company's interests. Even cruel or idle gossip might contain something of value, and therefore had to be sifted carefully for any flakes of information. Even if, at times, the task was akin to panning with lye rather than water.
April 3, 2025 at 2:23 AM
astrologybf.bsky.social
Haven't done one of these in a *while* and I went over limit but... shikata ga nai I guess?

#sixsentencesaturday | #kaleidofic
"Would you believe me, were I to say that I felt similarly?" G'raha chuckled. Ifan blinked as his face slipped into incredulity for a brief moment; brief, and soon replaced with a fond-half smile in answer to the sheepish hesitation on his partner's own features. "Believe it, aye, even though I can't say I'd understand it," he replied, squeezing G'raha's hand and inclining his head towards him. "...You don't have to talk about it, if it makes you uncomfortable," he added. G'raha shook his head. "After all the times you let me in, despite your own preferences? I think not, dear heart," he countered, turning his head so he could meet his champion's wine-dark eyes and smile... at least until the heavy subject matter took its toll, and caused their mutual humor to sedate. Then he turned his gaze away once more, and spoke. "There are times... I wonder if you would have felt the same, had I not had this destiny. Were I mere 'Raha of the Gryphon tribe, rather than Allag's heir... if you would have gone the lengths to which you did, for my own sake." He closed his eyes and grimaced, delaying the moments 'till he knew he had to meet the Hyur's eyes again; expecting shock, or even scorn. But when he mustered up his courage and finally looked... he only found a fond smile of admonishment, followed by a loving chuckle. "Think I loved you ever since that first head bunt, dummy," Ifan replied. "To hells with Allag."
September 8, 2025 at 2:48 AM
astrologybf.bsky.social
wow it's been a while and this is probably over six sentences but in my defense i'm entitled to it as a livejournal survivor 😔✌️

#kaleidofic | #sixsentencesaturday
"They say that if you watch the sunrise from the summit, and you're faithful, you might catch a glimpse of the Warden's true face. Or so the legend goes." A thoughtful hum left Thancred's lips in answer. Though his gaze rose once again to the high peak Ifan had called 'Holy Mother', he kept his pace at the magician's side as they ascended the old road up to Gydeo Abbey. "You climbed it, you say?" he asked. Ifan nodded and issued the whisper of a self-deprecating laugh. "Just after my eighteenth name-day," he answered, gesturing up to the mountaintop before elaborating. "My master and I settled on it as my final test as an apprentice; climb Holy Mother with nothing but my wits and magecraft, and return a full mage." Then he paused, and his expression shifted to a fond smile. "Not exactly traditional and probably a little too dangerous for my age, but... somehow I managed it." Thancred blinked in surprise, but then let out a chuckle of his own at how unusually appropriate a test it truly was for what he imagined an eighteen-year-old Ifan must have been like, at least in his own estimation.  "Are the tales true, then?" he asked. "Did Azeyma show herself to you, up there on the peak?" His tone carried a ring of good-natured teasing, but his eyes lowered to Ifan in genuine curiosity; observing his persistent smile, and listening to the wistfulness in the magician's voice. Though Ifan shook his head, his expression seemed to answer quite the opposite. "It was a beautiful sunrise, aye," he said, "and I can't say I've ever seen the like again. But... no. No goddess showed herself to me, just... a small world, or at least that's how it looked from up on high." Then he paused again, and nodded slowly as his face grew that much more resolute. "Small and fragile," he added. "Something worth protecting."
November 17, 2025 at 12:36 AM
astrologybf.bsky.social
Like Mist In Morning

~1k words | General | F/F | Yugiri/Kurenai

Faced with the prospective failure of her mission, Yugiri Mistwalker takes a few moments to collect her thoughts down by the banks of the One River.

#ffxivwrite | #rarepairweek | #kaleidofic
Cover art for Like Mist In Morning by AstrologyBF Yugiri stands on the bank of the one river opposite Castrum Fluminis. She's looking off towards the side with a pensive expression and in an idle stance, clearly deep in thought. Superimposed over the background is the image of Kurenai Shisui; she's smiling, but her features are positioned in such a way that the spire of Castrum Fluminis looks like a trail of tears. An excerpt from Like Mist In Morning The waters of the One River flowed lazily along shore near Castrum Fluminis, and she stared into their silted depths Yugiri found her thoughts being carried along with them. She was grateful for the brief reprieve. It likely wouldn't be too long before the Warrior of Light came looking, but for now Ifan was absent: likely still back at the Castrum's riverside complex, watching to make sure the villagers whom they had freed were unaccosted on their way back to Namai. Freed. A huff escaped her nose as if the word carried a foul odor, and was followed by the creak of leather as her hands tightened with pent-up frustration. Doma's people were not free. Even those who weren't physically shackled were still bound, still trapped within a prison built of flinching at the mere prospect of their conquerors' reprisal. And oh, how they had flinched, and scowled, and raged at Ifan and Yugiri for having the gall to do something as stupid as prevent them from being worked to death far off in Ilsabard, kami forfend. They didn't even call the place they had been taken after being conscripted by its real name. The buildings by the river had been built upon the bones of Saisho, yet rather than defy the ones who'd razed a sleepy fishing village of good, kind-hearted folk, by making sure the name and thus its demise was never forgotten… the word had been interred along with its dead, and not uttered save by those to whom forgetting it felt worse. How bitterly Lord Hien would have wept to see the state of things, had he been here.
June 12, 2025 at 5:47 AM