1 - 20 of 36 Works by almandines
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The doors leading out of the Waking Sands were only a hallway away, but she might as well have been trapped in the nexus of a labyrinth—the prize for surviving the beast and finding one's way to the center. A single helpless girl, perched untouchable on her pedestal.
For FFXIV rarepair week 2026. Day 4: Denial
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How many nights had he slept with these arms draped over him, unable to know just how grounding that touch could be? Had he known this comfort, perhaps it would have been much more difficult to consign himself to a lonely death.
For FFXIV rarepair week 2026. Day 3: Reflection
Series
- Part 3 of preemptive grief
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"This is a truth I myself still struggle to make peace with. 'To ignore the plight of those one might conceivably save is not wisdom—it is indolence.' There are limits to this. To what is conceivable." She paused as she turned to look up at him. "It is difficult, nay, impossible to accept. My mind understands this, but my heart does not."
For FFXIV rarepair week 2026. Day 1: Temper
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"I will not leave you to navigate this alone," she said firmly.
Occtis frowned. Vaelus had practically attached herself to him even before he'd been summoned to the Palazzo Davinos, and for all he searched for logic and answers, he simply could not reconcile it.
"Why, exactly?" he asked.
"It has always been my path to protect things that are sacred." The corners of her eyes crinkled, betraying a veiled smile. "I do not believe I am stepping out of line by counting you among them."
what does it mean to be alive?
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Vilya's face is little more than a distant echo in the depths of Keyleth's memory; a crusted-over puncture wound at the back of her heart, slowly healing like a scab and just as itchy. Vax'ildan is instead a vivid, weeping slash across the front of it, bloody and raw and held open by the dagger she refuses to remove, every feather and every dream tearing it wider and wider.
It's different.
At least her mother only left once.
Keyleth can go anywhere but forward.
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Thancred sometimes fancied himself a man of many secrets, if only because an air of mystery went far when it came to drawing the unguarded attention of many a fair maiden, and he thought himself equally adept when it came to insight. It took a liar to know one, after all, and he knew them well. But the Exarch's secrecy felt different somehow, and it left a bitter taste on his tongue.
alone in a new world, thancred's only guidance comes from a regrettable source: the crystal exarch
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At the top of the ramp, memories waited like knives in the dark. A better survivalist would have avoided them. He would have avoided them, were things the same as they were a year ago.
But he had no other reminders now, so the knives would have to do.
a long-building grief
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It had been one night—only one night of poor foresight a decade ago, yet here he was, lost in her labyrinth, tangled in thorns all over again, still navigating the consequences without a compass.
And he hadn't the strength to pull himself away.
the past does not stay buried
Series
- Part 3 of Revenant
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Three years he had prepared for this. Three years to steel his heart and paste a mask of iron upon his face. Three long years, still so few they paled beside a century of meticulous planning.
His own desperate heart should be silent. So he willed it; so it roiled regardless.
an ending, and an unexpected beginning
Series
- Part 2 of preemptive grief
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She knew it was a terrible burden to place on him, but they both knew it was a burden that could not be placed anywhere else.
Honesty did not bring her the clarity she sought, but at least it meant that on nights like these she had a place. Sometimes it felt like she spent her nights in Thancred's bed more than her own, while he sat vigil as she drifted back to sleep.
misery loves company
Series
- Part 2 of Revenant
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"I didn't know," she said, her voice low and aching, the tears returning in full force but this time out of anger. "If I had known, I never would have…"
"I know."
damage is done and begins to mend
Series
- Part 1 of Revenant
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With anyone else, he might have taken offense to the sudden, presumptuous touch each time she wrapped a hand around his wrist or slipped her palm into his and pulled, but in the past weeks, he’d found himself less and less frustrated by the way she inserted herself into his space and his mind so effortlessly. It felt less like a boundary broken than one that never really even existed.
A promised journey.
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Would it really be the full Forgotten Knight experience if she didn’t leave with body and soul both a little burned?
Anora returns to Ishgard, and some things break.
Series
- Part 2 of Insatiable
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“You captivate me, dear Briony,” he continues, “and so I must ask. Know you a love story, or a tragedy?”
Briony twines her fingers between his and wonders at the warmth of his hand—so real she is sure she is not dreaming; so alive she is sure she must be.
“Both.”
Briony returns to Elpis to face the beginning of a story after its ending.
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“It’s all worth it, ye know,” Biggs says as G’raha nearly jogs to keep up with the taller pair. A moment of uneasy quiet falls outside, and he listens to the echo of all three of their footsteps in the hallway.
“What is?” G’raha asks when the manor’s back door comes into view.
“Chasin’ down the book. Sendin’ ye off,” he says. “I could die happy knowing someone like her is still around. The woman from the stories. It’s all we’ve ever worked toward. And it’s worth it.”
G'raha Tia wakes to a world in ruin, and with the help of the remnants of the Garlond Ironworks, must find a way to conquer the impossible.
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Flushed skin; reddened cheeks; a light sheen of sweat that practically makes Taimu glow in the soft lamplight. None of these things are unfamiliar.
What is less familiar, however, is the feverish heat of her as he brushes his knuckles over her skin, fingers slotted into the space deliberately left between her body and his chains.
Whatever he’d imagined before, the way his mind painted a vivid picture of glimmering links draped over the gentle curves of her, pales in comparison to the real thing.
A warder's chains of interment have more than just one purpose.
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Irie, heir to the powerful Sagahl line, has been cursed, leaving her magic unstable and dangerous. A trusted family friend might be able to lift it, but reaching her is a difficult task—one that can apparently only be accomplished in the reluctant company of her sour-faced guard.
Escorting a single woman isn’t Anora’s typical mercenary work, but the coin offered by a pair of privileged mages is more than enough to convince her. And it would be an easy job—if an unusual one—if not for the heiress’s recklessness.
A bodyguard AU wolship collab for FFXIV Sapphic Week 2023.
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Refusing to give in, I see, he says quietly.
She does not speak her answer, of course, but she does not need to.
Very well, he says. If you will not allow me the reins, then let us work together, you and I.
The shadow of Fray hangs over them both.
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Bloody knuckles are hardly noteworthy—not beside all the ways he's seen her broken before—so the admonishment never comes.
Instead there’s only silence. Silence of a comfortable sort, like the kind that settled atop the crackling of a fire, dampened by a buffer of old furniture to keep out the cold malms away from the closest spoken being but themselves. Silence at once familiar and terrible.
Oh, how she is doomed to be understood by him.
Politics, a party, a kiss, and an expanse of guilt an ocean wide.
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“Raha,” she whispers. “I want you.” Three simple words, and all the adrenaline crashes down over her in a rush of lightning and a full-body shiver.
G’raha does not immediately answer, and for a horrifying moment she wonders if she’s made a terrible mistake in being so forward, but then he whispers a quiet and knowing, “Oh.”
And he lets the book fall shut without even holding his page.
Sena has a request.