reluctant protagonist
LightNews LightNews
banner
laspocelliere.bsky.social
reluctant protagonist
@laspocelliere.bsky.social
280 followers 400 following 1.5K posts
she/her | 30+ | 7.3 spoilers | icon by @/eldrtchmn
Posts Replies Media Videos
Pinned
laspocelliere.bsky.social
reluctant protagonist @laspocelliere.bsky.social · Oct 27
Links Masterpost: Writing & Additional Content

♱ AO3 Profile
♱ Posted Fics
♱ Tumblr
♱ Sword & Shield - Ship Tag
♱ Lore
♱ Character Art
Reposted by reluctant protagonist
hibiki-palm.bsky.social
ff14 エメトセルク
November 26, 2025 at 5:31 AM
Reposted by reluctant protagonist
laspocelliere.bsky.social
Merry Starlight ✨

Gorgeous Thorne and Aymeric art by @nenthepigeon.bsky.social, thank you so much again 🖤

#wolmeric | #ffxivart | #swordandshield
December 24, 2024 at 7:12 PM
Reposted by reluctant protagonist
roira.bsky.social
I will even yap more about this and say: OCfy your ship. Give them different clothes, a different hair now and then. Add details that make them more connected to your writing. If they get injured give them a scar. Something as small as an earring with symbolism. Go ham on it.
November 25, 2025 at 5:12 PM
Reposted by reluctant protagonist
laweyd.bsky.social
Side by side October WIPs and November WIPs
November 25, 2025 at 3:23 PM
laspocelliere.bsky.social
She has a traditional Gelmorran name; "Thorne" is technically a nickname that she's taken on to be fully known by. Gelmorran names are kept secret, and only those very close to the individual are given the privilege.

At this point, Aymeric is the only other person alive who knows it. #ThorneLore
aygamajellan.bsky.social Ayga Majellan @aygamajellan.bsky.social · 1d
#wolqotd This is the first time I've tried it.

Did you have another name for your wol? It could be a nickname or another origin ?

( spoil dawntrail :

(Erenville, which has a different name in Tural).
November 25, 2025 at 2:51 PM
Reposted by reluctant protagonist
otyasitene.bsky.social
ギラバニア Gyr Abania
November 22, 2025 at 11:30 AM
Reposted by reluctant protagonist
otyasitene.bsky.social
イシュガルド
November 20, 2025 at 1:22 PM
Reposted by reluctant protagonist
beencap.bsky.social
어머니
November 16, 2024 at 4:53 AM
Reposted by reluctant protagonist
bombsfall.bsky.social
I touched it and a door opened somewhere in West Virginia

Kodak Hawkeye Brownie
Kodak Tri-X

#filmphotography
November 13, 2025 at 3:29 AM
laspocelliere.bsky.social
They're dead. When the Calamity struck, the shockwaves penetrated deep into the earth, fracturing the ancient structures of their underground world. Not long after, a battle with the dragons above shattered those foundations entirely. The city collapsed, with everyone trapped inside. #ThorneLore
sajynkojuro.bsky.social Sajyn Kojuro @sajynkojuro.bsky.social · 3d
Had a break during my work, so here’s my first #wolqotd…

What’s the deal with your WoL’s parents? Are they alive? Dead? Supportive of their adventures? Or are there… daddy/mommy issues? (Dramatic gasp)
November 24, 2025 at 2:49 PM
Reposted by reluctant protagonist
asmeesh.bsky.social
Crawling out a five day migraine hole
November 22, 2025 at 9:08 PM
Reposted by reluctant protagonist
funeralportrait.bsky.social
melisande and death and the maiden by marianne stokes
October 2, 2025 at 8:55 AM
Reposted by reluctant protagonist
emahriel.bsky.social
November 22, 2025 at 10:52 PM
Reposted by reluctant protagonist
wnupani.bsky.social
悪くないかも
November 21, 2025 at 6:56 PM
Reposted by reluctant protagonist
holyaches.bsky.social
i was never good at this body. there was always something in me so anxious to crawl out.
November 21, 2025 at 11:10 AM
Reposted by reluctant protagonist
decafdraws.bsky.social
You're pulling bitches.
I'm pulling wall to wall.

We aren't the same.
November 21, 2025 at 1:53 AM
Reposted by reluctant protagonist
shiwa.bsky.social
FF14　テンペスト/アーモロート
The Tempest/Amaurot
November 21, 2025 at 6:54 AM
Reposted by reluctant protagonist
lilbittymonster.bsky.social
Just in time for Throwback Thursday!

If you're tagged/see this, post 1-4 favourite snippets you wrote & tag your fellow writers!

Tagging @xivcrystalheaux.bsky.social and @neryseluned.bsky.social

Most of these are from last year's XIVWrites, links to the full fics below.
Estinien grunted his thanks and stepped into the dimly lit plaza, a disabled aetheryte in the center covered in long-dead roses taking up most of his vision. A soft murmur of voices rose up at his approach, but beyond that there was almost no reaction. Almost.  A miqo’te man in a worn purple suit stood from his chair, walking slowly towards him. These people within the city walls seemed much more animated than those left outside, though that wasn’t saying much. Behind him, Estinien could see the crowd of onlookers watching through half-lidded eyes. “State your business, stranger,” the miqo’te said. “I’m here to speak with Chai Nuzz on behalf of the Exarch,” Estinien said. “Do you know where I can find him?” “You’re speaking to him,” Chai Nuzz said. “On behalf of the Exarch, is it? I’m going to guess it’s about the Lightwarden.” “Aye. I was told that you were the one to speak to about getting up the mountain.” Chai Nuzz shook his head. “Nobody is getting up that mountain anymore. I tore the Ladder down years ago. I’m sorry, but you can tell the Exarch that I won’t be sending anyone else to their deaths.” “I was under the impression that your world is dying,” Estinien said. “Are you really so content to just languish here, waiting for your end to come?” “Young man, that is precisely what this city was built for. We had already accepted our fate long before the Scions arrived. And if the Scions of the Seventh Dawn, helmed by the Warrior of Darkness herself, could not defeat the final Light then what chance do you have, a single soldier?” Chai Nuzz shook his head again. “If you’re so eager to go after it then you’ll have to find your own way up. I won’t help you.” And with that he turned and slowly walked back to his seat. Estinien huffed and turned on his heel. Fine. If he had to make his way, he would. He’s been dealt worse hands. “What was it like?” she asked quietly. “Hm?” “Before. When you were here with Gaius,” she clarified. “What was it like?” “Well, certainly less devastated than it is now,” he joked, aiming for some levity. Judging from her unmoved posture, it didn’t seem to land. He cleared his throat awkwardly, looking down over the streets filled with wrecked vehicles and crumbled buildings. Somewhere off in the night, corners of the haunted streets lit up as rogue machines fired off their lasers at anything that dared move. As quickly as the lights had appeared, they fell dark once more. “Clean. Too clean, even. I’ve never been anywhere that looked so…..uninhabited. As if it were meant for display. And yet there were always people on the streets, patrolling. Mostly military.” He paused, trying to remember the fleeting bits of the capital he had seen in between scouting missions. “But still, the people lived on. There would be markets, scarce though they were. Children would still occasionally laugh and play in the snow. Men and women would walk briskly between home and workplace. It...it felt like everyone was holding their breath for something. Waiting. I don’t know what for, but something.” It felt like a lifetime ago that he was here last. Now it was but a tomb. “So…..like Ishgard, then,” Kitali said after a long pause. He thought for a moment, sobered by the comparison. “Aye, much like Ishgard.” “Four pages,” she said. “Front and back.” He looked up from his book to see her holding the letter as though it were a rotten head of chyshal greens. The curl of her lip did not lessen as she read first one page, then the back, then the second, before at last she rolled her eyes and marched across the room to throw the whole bundle into the fire with a shower of sparks. Aymeric nearly choked on the mouthful of tea he had just taken. “That bad, was it?” She settled onto the couch, rubbing a hand across her eyes as she laid her head in his lap. “Yeah, that bad. I don’t know why people keep sending me shit like that, it’s not as if it’s a secret we’re married.” “What, you don’t think you can do better than a bastard from only a minor house?” he joked. “I’m sure you could if you tried.” “But I don’t want to do better than a bastard from a minor house,” she said, looking up at him. “I want you.” Warmth bloomed in his chest, as it always did when she looked at him like that. He leaned into the hand that she brought up to his cheek and pressed a lingering kiss to her palm. “And what, pray tell, did your mystery admirer say to you to earn such a fiery rejection?” The manor was quiet in its comfort, the meal finished and plates cleared away by dutiful staff. Estinien and Aymeric were in the parlor across the hall with the cats. Alberic could hear the gentle tinkling of a bell and scampering claws on hardwood as Arienne skittered across them. “I’m so glad you could join us this year,” Vivienne said as she sipped her wine contentedly. “As am I. ‘Tis good to spend time in your company outside from formal matters for a change.” Vivienne laughed at that, tilting her glass in a small cheers. It had taken the better part of the dinner and two glasses of Lominsan red for Alberic to relax in the company of nobles, even nobles he ostensibly already knew. “Truthfully, I am glad of the excuse not to attend the larger Starlight celebrations,” she said. “My old bones aren’t what they used to be and the chairs are never comfortable enough.” The sounds of the bell had stopped, and distantly Alberic heard the echoing sound of a door being closed followed by the wails of a small cat. Alberic hid his smile in his glass of wine. A minute later, Arienne appeared in the doorway voicing her complaints. “Oh, did you get thrown out, your poor dear?” Vivienne said sympathetically. She patted her lap in invitation. “I know I’m not my son, but-ah, hello my darling.” Arienne pushed her head against Vivienne’s hand, purring loudly, before circling twice and curling up contentedly. “Oh, to be young and in love,” she said, a knowing smile on her lips. “Have you ever had anyone special to call your own, Alberic?” He coughed on the wine slightly at the unexpected question.
November 21, 2025 at 12:53 AM
laspocelliere.bsky.social
thinking about how in the modern au Thorne's legs are insured for literal millions of dollars

good for you Aymeric
November 21, 2025 at 12:42 AM
laspocelliere.bsky.social
I get nervous about unintentionally leaving anyone out from these, so if you see this, consider this me tagging you.

If you're tagged/see this, post 1-4 favourite snippets you wrote & tag your fellow writers!

(These are all from my many #Wolmeric fics, to the surprise of no one.) #SwordAndShield
All eyes in the church were on him now, but Aymeric thought only of her, and every prayer he had that contained her name, when he raised the cup to his lips and took the dragon’s blood into his mouth. The taste was metallic and smoky, thick and cloying, sparking something sensual and sharp underneath his tongue. He locked his jaw around the immediate instinct to swallow. The blood filled his mouth like the moments before drowning; impossibly warm, swimming with sin. It tasted, he realised, turning the rich flavour around in his mouth anew, almost exactly like kissing his lover in secret, when their passions turned dark and heated. When she sighed against his ear and bit down her cries against his bottom lip. That elusive sensation on his tongue when it met hers, drawing gentle noises from her throat and causing her to press her hips into his, her back bending graceful like an archer’s bow; it was here, in the dragon blood he couldn’t swallow, as seductive and forbidden as her kisses.  Somewhere behind him, she was watching him, with those piercing eyes of hers that held salvation and Armageddon all at once. He’d never needed to see her more badly in his life. The dragon blood in his mouth nearly choked him, clogging in his throat, drowning him in memories of her mouth. And then he learned forward, sharp and purposeful, and spit the blood harshly out onto the hot coals in the intricately carved lit brazier at his feet. The steam that rose from it upon contact was thick and tinted red, burning with the smell of incense and dragonfire. What was a kiss without a kiss? It was their fingertips touching, their eyes meeting in the half-light, their every imperfection laid bare between them and given to the other to protect. It was her gently brushing his dark hair away from his eyes as she’d pictured doing a thousand times before, letting her hands linger on his skin as she watched unknown emotions play out behind his eyes. It was him stretching his arm out so that she could pillow her head on it, so close that only the barest amount of restraint kept their lips from meeting as they continued to talk quietly. They didn’t sleep, and they didn’t look away, and when morning came, something would be irreversibly changed. What are we doing? She didn’t ask, despite knowing he was asking the same. This is too dangerous. Too dangerous, and far, far too late. Perhaps if it were mere lust, this could be easier. He couldn’t deny the appeal of such a base notion, either; she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. She was beautiful in the way the masters’ paintings were beautiful, or the intricate stained glass windows of the cathedral. Beauty like the sunrises over the mountains, or the tapestry of stars over the pines. Classic, and timeless, and so pure that it shone naturally from her in a way that caught his eye and held it like no fashionable bauble or elaborately low-cut gown ever could.  He’d trace the sides of her face and pull her to him as naturally as breathing, if she willed it. To kiss her – to even think about kissing her – felt like both a blasphemy and a prayer. He’d gone over it in his mind a thousand times. Kissing her there, in that strategy room, right in the corner of her mouth where that rare smile lurked, needing to know what it tasted like. Kissing her in the Coerthas sunlight, before the calamity had struck summer from the land, and feeling her warm beneath his hands. Kissing her beneath the looming pines, pulling the hood of her cloak down over her head to keep the snow at bay, and using his lips to warm her forehead, her cheeks, her closed eyelids.  Kissing her in the fireplace glow of his bedchamber, where no prying eyes would ever think to look… The line of thought trailed off into shadow, but her face remained. Her, kissing him, and kissing him, and kissing him, her body moving alongside his, leading him wherever she might go.  Her lips on his . That bright, burning focus in her eyes, set in determination on his face and rendering him helpless. Her, just her, pressing against him and opening her mouth to his, coaxing his arms around her slender waist and holding him close in turn. Her, wanting him, seeking him, finding him in the darkness and telling him… With a small noise of annoyance, Aymeric’s eyes snapped open, and he stood up like he’d been branded. Above him, the Fury’s unbli… Head bowed beneath the weight of responsibility, even in private, Aymeric moved through the dark hallways, trying to clear his mind. His home, his chambers, his bed; those were the few clear directions he could piece together for himself. Once he had slept, he could turn his attention to the rest. When he pushed open the heavy wooden door that led to his rooms, however, he found that his longed-for bed was already occupied. A softly shadowed figure in the fading light, she lay curled onto her side, her eyes closed in exhausted slumber. Behind her, the diamond-paned windows framed the setting winter sun, bathing the room in a shining glow of rose and saffron. Her weapons lay carefully propped up next to the bed, but she was otherwise fully dressed, her breathing slow and rhythmic where she lay. Nearby, a small side table held a solitary corked bottle of wine, flanked with two glasses, and Aymeric’s chest tightened faintly at the sight. She’d been waiting for him. Carefully, he closed the door behind him, turning the lock as quietly as possible. The room, with her motionless within it, had taken on the quiet reverence of a cathedral. There was a heaviness in the air, charged thickly with a strange and heavy potential that he’d never, even at his most devout, been able to put words to. Seeing her like this, however, felt dangerously close to bringing those words to the surface. His devotion, after all, had been pushing him forward for a long time now. With slow, dreamlike movements, Aymeric drew closer. He lowered himself next to the sleeping warrior, careful not to let his weight shift the mattress too quickly and wake her. In the setting sunlight she was set golden, her features streaked with a mire of dust and soot, and her exhaustion painfully clear in the heavy stillness of her limbs. Gently, barely daring to breathe, Aymeric reached out and brushed a loose lock of hair away from her forehead, his fingertips lingering reverently at her temple. If he hadn’t …
November 20, 2025 at 2:50 PM
Reposted by reluctant protagonist
hug-ff14.bsky.social
Varshahn
November 19, 2025 at 10:44 AM
Reposted by reluctant protagonist
shiwa.bsky.social
FF14　フレースヴェルグ & ニーズヘッグ
Hraesvelgr & Nidhogg
November 19, 2025 at 12:47 AM
Reposted by reluctant protagonist
jordanshiveley.bsky.social
a glossolalia between your thighs
November 18, 2025 at 9:33 AM
laspocelliere.bsky.social
#SwordAndShield #Wolmeric
A gpose from FFXIV. Aymeric de Borel sits in a chair in his office. On his lap, straddled across his hips, is the Warrior of Light, a green-haired Duskwight Elezen woman with a thornlike tattoo slashing across her right eye. She cups his face with both hands as they kiss passionately, his hands around her waist to hold her close to him.
November 19, 2025 at 2:29 AM
laspocelliere.bsky.social
Ask and ye shall receive.

#SwordAndShield #Wolmeric
A screenshot from FFXIV. Aymeric de Borel stands a breath away from a kiss with his wife, the Warrior of Light. She is a green haired Duskwight Elezen woman with fair skin, dark lips, and wears all black. They stand with their eyes closed as they face each other, noses brushing tenderly. A screenshot from FFXIV. Aymeric de Borel brushes noses with his wife, the Warrior of Light, both of their eyes closed and a breath away from a kiss. She is a green-haired Duskwight Elezen woman with fair skin, dressed in all black. A screenshot from FFXIV. Aymeric de Borel brushes noses with his wife, the Warrior of Light, both of their eyes closed and a breath away from a kiss. She is a green-haired Duskwight Elezen woman with fair skin, dressed in all black.
November 18, 2025 at 9:16 PM