Cover art for 'A Dream of Smokeless Fire: A Shadowrun Story' by AstrologyBF. The artwork is a still from Blade Runner 2049 and shows the neon holo-advertisements lining the megastructures of a cyberpunk Los Angeles.

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’s corpse. And though they had endured the countless changes in both climate and of government, the tumults of the early twenty-first century had seen his family seek better lives elsewhere; somewhere safer, much as it grieved them to depart the lands they had inhabited for years uncounted. Nonetheless, they did their best to live and raise their heirs in the fashion they believed would make their forebears proud. And when it was both safe and well within their means, they would return to visit that and those who they had left behind in the old world. It was during one such visit that the boy’s great uncle on his father’s side had greeted him upon arrival in Damascus with a gift; one intended to pass on that very love for their homeland’s traditions. The present was received with the elated grin of a book-lover already making—and concealing—plans to stay up well past his bedtime. And though neither he nor his great uncle knew it at the time… that old and leather-bound edition of One Thousand and One Nights would end up changing the boy’s life forever. For Irfan ibn Khalid al-Rahman, however, it was simply a very good Friday.

Day 18 - Alternate Universe

A Dream of Smokeless Fire

~3.3k words | General | Gen

A young man visiting relatives in Damascus receives a gift from his great uncle, leading to an encounter that will change his life forever.

#febhyurary | #kaleidofic

i will break even and post the last WIP that i am sufficiently satisfied with lmao 🫠 set during arcadion sometime after m7 or m8 (haven't decided exactly where yet)

#kaleidofic

Yearning from Sarcophagus of the Gods
Reminiscing from What Maketh the Man
Lost in thought from Like Mist in Morning

:smiles at u:

#kaleidofic

A gpose cover for Miss Gainsborough's Gift by Astrology BF. Ifan stands in Sharlayan's Agora with the statue of Thaliak visible in the background, talking to a woman who has her back turned to the viewer but has the exact appearance of one Aerith Gainsborough.

“Oh, so you’re in love love,” teased the flower girl. “Oi!” Ifan’s smile evaporated as his lips pinched in bashful reflex, but the simple truth of it quickly bore out. He let out a sharp scoff, then chuckled at himself. “...You’re not wrong, aye. And I could just get him roses, but I wanted to get him something more… personal,” he finished, punctuating his sentence with a gesture to the flowers she was holding. The flower girl’s expression grew more thoughtful, even if it remained cheerful, and she nodded in response. “Fair enough. I mean… I’d still call roses pretty personal, even if they aren’t original,” she mused. “But I guess we wouldn’t have invented floriography if people didn’t want specific meanings.” Ifan cocked his head. “Floriography?” he asked. “Sending messages with flowers,” she explained, smile widening again. “Ah.” The magician clicked his teeth and nodded. “Didn’t know that had a name.” “Only what they call it here in Sharlayan,” said the flower girl, her expression growing wry and slightly smug. “But I prefer a field of flowers to a field of study, personally.” Ifan couldn’t help but snicker.

Miss Gainsborough's Gift

~2.9k words | General | M/M | #wolgraha

The Warrior of Light gets a gift of advice regarding a gap in his memory from a friendly flower girl.

CW: A degree of magical realism the canonicity of which I leave to you, the reader.

#ffxivwrite | #kaleidofic

Ifan makes Steak some baklava for his name-day.

#kaleidofic | #sixsentencesaturday

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

a bit late but here's a thing set during the binding coil

#kaleidofic | #sixsentencesaturday

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

Haven't done one of these in a *while* and I went over limit but... shikata ga nai I guess?

#sixsentencesaturday | #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.

what if i worked on an origin story for the shadowrun au what then (WIP) #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'.

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

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

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.

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

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.

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 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.

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

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.

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

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.

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 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.

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 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."

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

"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?"

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

"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.

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

"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.

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

"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.

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

"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.

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