Celestaux

@duskwightdancer.bsky.social

399 Followers 393 Following

they/he | 28 | white | 7.5 spoilers | Fuck AI | occasionally 🔞 ships: #wolgraha #wolfoulques #foulquesgraha #celestialbodies #ocship #wolzenos other tags: #ffxivfic #gposes #farmboylore #gwenlore AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/users/steamingcupoftea

Celestaux, a Duskwight Elezen man, and G'raha Tia from behind. They are both sitting with legs extended on the lounge chair in the inn room in Tuliyollal, the two of them looking towards the shoreline. They are sitting closely together, G'raha tucked into Celestaux's side with one of Celestaux's arms wrapped around him and holding him closely. G'raha's head is reading on Celestaux's shoulder. They look comfortable as they watch the setting sun.
A massive karakul plush.
A screenshot of a fanfiction on AO3. Title: shadowed by my past Author: steamingcupoftea Summary: G'raha could still see the vision of the Warrior of Light's hand in his own – fingers bent at wrong angles and sticky and warm with blood, but trying so hard to use G'raha as a grounding force. And G'raha couldn't help the way his mind flashed through memories – the two of them walking hand in hand through the Crystarium, of him leading his partner by the hand showing him the streets of Sharlayan, of the Exarch gripping his hand tight one last time and pressing a kiss to scarred knuckles before letting go. This was far from the first time he gripped his partner's hand like like a lifeline, even if for just a moment. He knew what it was like to want to keep holding on, to never want to let go. Letting go felt like accepting death itself, so the Exarch had pushed through pain of a different kind to just hold on for a moment longer, to seek comfort out of the Warrior for another breath before he let go so the crystal could take hold. His own final moments of pure white hot agony before the numbness took over and his very being was snuffed out.
A screenshot of my phone lockscreen, the image is of Celestaux, a Duskwight Elezen man, with his hand outstretched towards the viewer. In his hand rests a bottle of ibuprofen
His Warrior of Light and Darkness lived behind his eyelids every time he closed them. He saw the long planes of her pale throat, the sharpness in her dark eyes, the way they flashed momentarily at any sign of a challenge – things that most wouldn't notice if they hadn't been staring at her, watching her constantly for weeks. Watching as she slayed sin eaters with a single blow, not even minding as the white plaster of their blood sprayed across her face while strong muscles flexed with ease. Watching as those same muscles relaxed under the spray of water as she bathed, vulnerable in a way no one on this star was allowed to see. Watching as sleep finally took her, her body relaxing while her face still twisted and contorted with a pain and a longing he knew not of. A pain he wished to know of, one he wished he could take away.
A gpose of young, A Realm Reborn era Celestaux, a Duskwight Elezen man dressed in a blue suit, and A Realm Reborn era G'raha Tia sitting on the ground around a campfire near the Crystal Tower. Celestaux is distracted, looking up at the stars with a small smile on his face, while G'raha only has eyes for Celestaux and looks at him with a soft smile on his face.
A screenshot of a fanfiction on AO3. Title: wake me up when all this is over Author: steamingcupoftea Summary: G'raha Tia sunk to the ground tiredly at the base of the Tower and looked out at what they called a city. The remnants of Mor Dhona pushed closer to the lake, scrap and wreckage turned into makeshift shacks and homes pressed up between the Tower and the Keeper of the Lake. It didn't feel like much of a city at all, but G'raha knew better than to speak those words aloud. Nothing in this world was how he remembered it to be, nothing looked as he may have expected it to look. And so, since he'd been woken up into this world and told of the death and destruction of the land he once knew, he kept his mouth shut and did not dare speak most things aloud. The whole landscape had changed with the Calamity and the Black Rose nearly two centuries ago. Two centuries.
A screenshot of a fanfiction on AO3. Title: they taste like you, only bitter Author: steamingcupoftea Summary: Finally his plans had worked, finally he had done what he'd set out to do a hundred years ago when he first arrived from the Source. Finally the Warrior of Light, the First's new Warrior of Darkness, stood in the flesh on the First and finally the Exarch felt like maybe things would go according to his plan. But it wasn't only that – it wasn't only that he knew finally there would be a chance to save the home that he'd built here and save the Source in turn. The Exarch knew there was something else gnawing at him, burning a hole deep down in his crystallized heart. The young man he'd once been was awakened by seeing the Warrior again and there was no putting him back to sleep. And so, shameful as it was, the Exarch let himself watch.
A picture of an empty swimming pool
Celestaux, a Duskwight Elezen man, standing somewhere in the middle of the night, the stars out above him. He is smirking down at the camera in the resting sage pose, one hand holding his chin like he is in thought.
Something warm bloomed in him, something warm but rotten and foul that he'd done everything in his power to lock away, at the sight of the Warrior walking away from his partner, having a moment to himself in the Exarch's city. The tendril of jealousy that he tried so hard to keep reined in, that he desperately tamped down in his chest for years, crawled up his throat. And in the silence and emptiness of the Ocular, the Exarch let it. He allowed this moment of weakness as he watched the Warrior lean against the railing and close his eyes shut tight. And the Exarch let his own eyes wander, taking in strong arms, broad shoulders, powerful muscles relaxed and at ease in the peace of the city he'd built. And with it he thought about all the ways he'd tried to find anyone who could come close to this man.
He'd never been a religious man, never felt anything when he prayed to the Twelve or the old Gelmorran gods, but he held such a deep reverence for the heavens above. If the gods couldn't give him the answers he searched for, maybe the skies above could give him some sort of direction. And after years of closing his eyes and bowing his head in worship to the sun, of searching the stars for some kind of sign, a reason to keep living, they finally seemed to answer. Because then a man with a name of starlight who burned brighter than the sun lit up his life.
Another angle of the photo in the previous post, this one more zoomed in on Foulques' face as he smirks.
Foulques of the Mist in a black long coat with a black checked scarf around his neck. He has his arms crossed as he leans back against a wooden door, smirking at the camera. His hair is longer than canon and up in a neat bun.
Gwen, my Duskwight Elezen wol, on a magazine cover. She is standing in front of a red string board and staring directly at the camera with half-lidded eyes. Beside her it lists his main jobs (dark knight, paladin, warrior, white mage, black mage, and red mage). Below her it lists her server (aether / cactuar), her full name (Gwenette Vairemont), and some of the attributes I, the player, am interested in game on her (screenshot, housing, glamour, and pvp).
Celestaux, my Duskwight Elezen wol, on a magazine cover. He is sitting on the ground and staring off to the side. Beside him it lists his main jobs (Sage, dark knight, dragoon, machinist, dancer, red mage, and botanist). Below him it lists his server (aether / cactuar), his full name (Celestaux Vairemont), and some of the attributes I, the player, am interested in game (housing, screenshot, glamour, treasure map, looking for friends, and pvp).
Foulques, Celestaux, and G'raha sit outside under a wisteria tree. Foulques and Celestaux sit side by side on a fallen log bench, pressed closely against each other and resting their heads together. Celestaux has his eyes closed with a smile on his face and his one hand in view is resting on Foulques' knee. Foulques has his eyes open and a smile on his face, looking down at G'raha - who is leaning back against one of Celestaux's legs, one leg extended in front of him. G'raha has a soft smile on his face, completely relaxed, and is looking up at Foulques fondly.
G'raha Tia standing with his hands on his hips looking towards the camera while he stands besides Foulques of the Mist, who has his arms crossed and he looks expressionless off in the distance. Beside them both is Celestaux, a Duskwight Elezen man, standing with his arms crossed, eyes closed, and a small smile on his face. They are all standing outside under a wisteria tree.
"It seems as if we all made it back, despite seemingly your intentions, Exarch. Or do you prefer G'raha Tia now?" Foulques asked as he sidled up beside the Exarch, a flagon of ale in each hand. To say the man flinched would've been an exaggeration, but Foulques could see the way he stood up a little straighter and his eyes widened just ever so slightly as he turned to look up at Foulques before the Exarch relaxed again. "Whichever you prefer. I'll admit that it's been a long, long time since anyone has referred to me by that name, it only barely feels like mine anymore," he said, glancing back over at where Cel sat before fully shifting his attention to Foulques. "But Cel has seemed switched to calling you by that name – and has apparently known the whole time that was who you are," he said, only a hint of annoyance in his tone at that fact – not that he would've been able to do anything if he'd been informed. The Exarch nodded his head, though, a wry smile coming to his face. "Aye, so I've noticed. Our Warrior of Darkness is more perceptive than I think most give him credit for, myself included. He is welcome to continue to call me as such, it is my name after all, it will simply take a bit of getting used to on my part," he said, waving his free hand, but Foulques just frowned at him.
Celestaux, a Duskwight Elezen man, dressed in a long green coat over a white shirt. He is standing with his arms crossed over his chest and leaning back against a wall of green foliage. There is a small smirk on his face he looks at the camera.
A Miqo'te man and The Tyrant in a bed in Solution 9. The Tyrant is dressed in a plain t-shirt and a pair of jeans and is leaning back on his elbows in the bed, looking at the Miqo'te man with heavy lidded eyes, his mouth slightly parted. The Miqo'te man is dressed in black jeans and a Solution 9 fashioned jacket and he is crawling up the bed towards the Tyrant, one of his knees nestled between the Tyrant's thighs. One of his hands rests on the Tyrant's chest while the other one is on the bed beside him. The miqo'te has a taunting grin on his face, smiling with all teeth.
The same Miqo'te man from the previous post now stands next to The Tyrant in Heritage Found, leaning with his arms crossed as he stares up at him with a taunting grin. The Tyrant smirks back down at him, his hands resting on his hips
A Miqo'te man standing with his arms crossed and eyes closed in Heritage Found. He is wearing a simple dark jacket and a regulator is on his head.
The others started to scold him for leaving them to worry how they did, but Celestaux would fully admit that he could hardly pay attention through it. He managed to guide his head to whoever was speaking, trying his best to keep up the illusion that he was more alright than he felt. They didn’t need to know just how bad it still was. He pushed himself up when he thought it was appropriate, ignoring the way that everything burned in white hot agony, and ignored how much his heart clenched to see Alisaie sob at him for leaving them. A small ball of guilt settled in his chest for even considering letting go, for daring to think about leaving them to pick up the pieces, but he didn’t focus on that now. He barely had the energy to focus on it as another wave of pain washed over him. Celestaux was no stranger to putting his pain to the back of his mind and powering through it, forcing his body to move even when every muscle was moments away from giving out on him and when his heart was breaking. Time and time again he put on a brave face and smiled, making sure the people around him knew that everything was alright, that nothing could topple him – and this would be no different. He let the others help him to his feet, fighting down the urge to throw up as every movement sent a shock of white hot pain through him. He knew they were being as gentle as they could, but there wasn’t an inch of him that wasn’t aching. It didn’t matter, though, he would power through it – he was going to see their return to the star, their return home. He deserved that much and it didn’t matter that he’d pay for pushing himself like this later.
Celestaux, a Duskwight Elezen man, and Foulques of the Mist. They are standing outside the door to a house in the middle of the night, both dressed in simple casual t-shirts - Celestaux in green and Foulques in black. Celestaux's arms are wrapped around Foulques' waist, his chin resting on Foulques' shoulder. His eyes are closed and he has a small smile on his face. Foulques is holding a mug between his hands, eyes closed peacefully as he relaxes into Celestaux's hold. There is a hint of a smile on Foulques' face.
A long haired black cat laying against a green blanket. He looks up at the camera, almost confused, one canine tooth hanging out over his lip.
Foulques, a Duskwight Elezen man, standing in an icy and snowy clearing, dressed in a long torn black coat, black gloves, black pants, and black boots, with a dark knight greatsword over his shoulder. He is glaring in the direction of the camera.
A photo of Artoirel and Stephanivien. Artoirel stands with his arms crossed, leaning his back against a stone pillar while Stephanivien stands directly in front of him, one hand resting on the pillar beside Artoirel's shoulder and one hand on Artoirel's waist. Artoirel has a soft smile on his face as he looks up at Stephanivien while Stephanivien is grinning widely down at Artoirel. The photo is taken at night, a clear sky full of stars behind them.
A fanfiction posted on AO3. Title: a lover of the light Author: steamingcupoftea Summary: Foulques had always cherished the sunlight, revered it even. It still felt like somewhat of a novelty, even after nearly twenty years of living mainly above ground. He could still remember the first time he saw it setting low on the horizon through the trees in the Black Shroud. He'd been young, just a boy clutching at his older sister's hand as she led him up the path from their village underground. And after living his whole life in the dark, nothing could've prepared him for how bright it was. He remembered his eyes watering and having to squeeze them shut as he felt the warmth on his face for the first time.
Leofard Myste sits with his feet up on the table in his quarters and his hands in his lap while Gwen, a Duskwight Elezen woman, sits on the table with one hand resting on Leofard's calf. She is smirking down at him while he smiles back. She has the Redbills bandana around her neck, matching him.
A screenshot of a fanfiction posted on AO3. Title: you call the shots, babe Author: steamingcupoftea Summary: "With all your other talents among weapons, have you ever considered learnin' how to use one of these?" Leofard asked as he cleaned his gun in his chambers, which had Gwen immediately bark out an incredibly undignified laugh. "I'll have you know I'd been on my way to the machinists' guild when a merchant asked me to deal with some sky pirates," she said, crossing her arms over her chest as she looked back over at him.
A screenshot of a fanfiction on AO3. Title: i can't promise you Author: steamingcupoftea Summary: "I'm coming with you," Foulques said, ignoring the few sounds of protest from the Scions around him; most of them didn't matter to him, never really had, he only had his eyes on Cel and he watched his lover look back at him tiredly. "You're going to try some stupid self-sacrificing bullshit 'for the good of the Star' if you're left alone, I'm not having it. I'm coming with you," he insisted, almost frantic as he said it. Cel swallowed hard and cupped his cheek – if Foulques didn't know that all eyes were on him, he might've let a tear slip down his cheek before Cel even opened his mouth. "No, I need you to stay," Cel whispered, smiling sadly up at him, "I can't risk losing you too."
Foulques of the Mist and Celestaux, a Duskwight Elezen man, are in Tuliyollal at night. Foulques sits on a table in front of Celestaux, smiling as he uses one gloved hand to tilt up Celestaux's chin to look up at him. Celestaux smiles softly up at Foulques, one of his hands resting on Foulques' arm that's tilting his chin up. The photo is zoomed in and cropped to not show Foulques' eyes, only his smile.
A screenshot of a fanfiction on AO3. Title: we'll take on the world Author: steamingcupoftea Summary: Foulques stood on the balcony of the Crystarium, tucked in a shadow as the unending light above bared down above. He still hadn't quite gotten used to it, even after nearly two years of living on this reflection. The light here lacked all warmth of that on the Source, lacked the magnificence of the sunlight that took his breath away as a child. And somehow night brought no reprieve, still just the blinding light above without pause. It made something deep in his heart ache for the citizens here, people who had never known the beauty of a sunset nor the awe of seeing the stars slowly appear in the sky above. Not that he'd ever voice such thoughts.
A screenshot of a fanfiction posted on AO3. Title: my feelings are fatal Author: steamingcupoftea Summary: Artoirel had no idea when it began – likely not until he was a teenager at least or just before his final growth spurt, perhaps around then he finally understood that the feelings he had were deeper than just the hormones of young men. It was before his mother died, he was certain of that. He would never forget the mix of stern disappointment and pain on her face the first time he coughed up the bright red oldrose petals in her presence. That was before he knew of the cloudsbreath and periwinkle that had rooted deep in her lungs, before he saw the plants snake their way up her throat in seek of the light and choke the life out of her.
A post that reads: my kindness is NOT weakness. my patience is NOT permission to be cruel. my shoes ARE glow in the dark but i only found out AFTER i got them
a textpost that reads: but I stay silly! (an arrow pointing to the text) said in the most world-weary voice you ever did hear
A screenshot of a fanfiction posted on AO3. Title: changed by the pain Author: steamingcupoftea Summary: "Foulques, please," he called, hands raised non-threateningly. "You know this isn't– Celestaux wouldn't want this," his voice cracked as he said it, the loss still so fresh and making it all worse. This wasn't meant to happen. Celestaux was never supposed to– G'raha cut off the thought before he could finish thinking it. Now wasn't the time to get sucked up in his own grief, not when Foulques had already let it consume him. The man who stood in front of him was more of a terrified, cornered animal than anything – a version of him that G'raha had never witnessed… the version of him that existed before Celestaux came into his life.
"Don't," Foulques snarled, taking a step closer as he tightened his grip on his lance. "Don't try and tell me what he would want. Cel is– he's gone. They killed him. This whole fucking world that constantly asked more and more of him killed him. They have to pay," he said, chest heaving as he spoke. "He did it knowing the risks. You know he did, he wanted to save people, he wouldn't want you to–" G'raha tried to reason. "Enough!" Foulques cut him off, echoing through the clearing as lightning struck off behind him somewhere in the forest. "He's dead, Raha, and it's because of them," he said, the fear and pain so evident in his voice and all G'raha wanted to do was hold him, if only he could get close. "And what are you going to do about it? What side are you on?"
An acrylic charm of Foulques' face and an acrylic charm of G'raha's face side by side in a palm of a hand.
A close up of the photo in the previous post, zooming in on Celestaux. He looks so incredibly bored.
A large purple dragon with a yellow belly holding a red armchair. In the chair sits Celestaux, a Duskwight Elezen man dressed in a long green coat. He is sitting with one leg crossed over the other, his head resting on his hand with an almost bored expression on his face.
Celestaux, a Duskwight Elezen man, standing in a sleeveless shirt with his arms crossed over his chest, scoffing at the camera. Behind him is the bright blue sea outside of Tuliyollal.
Celestaux, a Duskwight Elezen man, standing with his arms crossed and smirking at the camera. The background behind him is a sort of pink, purple, and blue gradient that is reminiscent of the bisexual flag.
Foulques' eyes were wild in a way G'raha had never seen before as he stood, lance drawn and pointed in his direction. The rain was coming down in buckets around them, thunder cracking loudly and echoing through the Shroud. G'raha stood his ground, his staff still on his back as he stared back at his partner. "Foulques, please," he called, hands raised nonthreateningly. "You know this isn't– Celestaux wouldn't want this," his voice cracked as he said it, the loss still so fresh and making it all worse. This wasn't meant to happen. Celestaux was never supposed to– G'raha cut off the thought before he could finish thinking it. Now wasn't the time to get sucked up in his own grief, not when Foulques had already let it consume him. The man who stood in front of him was more of a terrified, cornered animal than anything. A version of him that G'raha had never witnessed… the version of him that existed before Celestaux came into his life.
G'raha Tia princess carrying Foulques of the Mist. G'raha is in a fitted red t-shirt and smirking up at Foulques, who is wearing a fitted black t-shirt and is looking annoyed. The photo is zoomed in to only show their upper bodies.
G'raha Tia princess carrying Celestaux, a Duskwight Elezen man. Celestaux is dressed in his pajamas of a simple green fitted t-shirt, long green pajama pants, and brown slippers. G'raha is dressed in his usual canon pants and is wearing a red fitted t-shirt. Celestaux is scoffing at G'raha while G'raha grins widely back at him.
Celestaux, a Duskwight elezen man, is holding G'raha Tia in his arms, lifting him up so they are eye level. The picture is from the waist up of them, just barely seeing Celestaux's arms around G'raha's waist and G'raha's tail curled up towards his back. G'raha has one arm resting across Celestaux's back, the other one cupping the back of his head. They are gazing into each other's eyes and smiling softly. Behind them is the ocean off of Tuliyollal and orange fluffy clouds in the sky.
Artoirel had no idea when it began – likely not at least until he was a teenager or just before his final growth spurt, perhaps around then he finally understood that the feelings he had were deeper than just the hormones of young men. It was before his mother died, he was certain of that. He would never forget the mix of stern disappointment and pain on her face when he first time he coughed up the bright red oldrose petals in her presence. That was before he knew of the cloudsbreath and periwinkle that had rooted deep in her lungs, before he saw the plants snake their way up her throat in seek of the light and choke the life out of her. She was the one who taught him to hide his ailment, to make sure no one ever witnessed his episodes, to hold the petals in his mouth, to swallow them down without making a scene or drawing attention to himself.
A G'raha Tia plush and a Foulques keychain hanging next to each other on a black bag.
Gwen, a Duskwight Elezen woman, and Farim, a Rava Viera man, are sitting in a dark room on a couch together. Gwen again rests her head on Farim's shoulder, but now her eyes are closed and she looks tired and upset. Farim rests his head on top of hers, his eyes also closed with a similar expression. One of Farim's hands rests on one of Gwen's knees, one of Gwen's hands resting on top of his.
Text that reads: 562 words
Foulques of the Mist, dressed in a black turtleneck with a black leather harness over it, a short black skirt, and black heels with thigh-high sheer stockings on under them, sitting with his legs crossed on top of a cluttered Sharlayan desk. On the wall behind him are scattered posters, a map, and an allagan device. Foulques is sneering down at the camera.
Aristaeus, a white Ancient man with short blue hair, wears grey Ancient robes and stands with his arms crossed and his back against Celestaux, a blue-grey skinned duskwight elezen man. Celestaux, dressed in green short-sleeve armor, stands with his arms crossed and back against Aristaeus. They both are frowning with furrowed brows and looking at each other out of the corner of their eyes. Behind them is the floating islands of Elpis.
A screenshot of a fic on AO3. Title: it burns through me Author: steamingcupoftea Summary: "It'll be alright," Foulques finally spoke up quietly. Celestaux knew it was meant to be comforting, that Foulques was trying so hard to be of help here, but he couldn't stop the snort that he let out at the comment. "You don't know that," he said, the exhaustion creeping into his tone. He didn't have to look over to his husband to know that gave him pause. Of the three of them, Celestaux wasn't the pessimistic one – in fact, he was usually the most optimistic of them. He wasn't meant to be the one who doubted things would turn out alright. He and G'raha were always the ones believing, hoping that all would be okay… But now he'd gone and turned the tables and he could already sense Foulques trying to recalibrate, to figure out what to say.
Foulques of the Mist dressed in a black turtleneck with a black leather harness over it, a short black skirt, and black heels with thigh-high sheer stockings on under them. He is sitting back against a red couch, his hands resting on the couch on either side of him, with one foot up and resting on G'raha Tia's chest. Foulques is sneering down at G'raha with half-lidded eyes. G'raha, who is kneeling on the floor, is dressed in a red long-sleeved shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows, has one hand under Foulques' calf and is smirking up at Foulques with half-lidded eyes.
Foulques of the Mist, a Duskwight Elezen man, dressed in a black and white blouse, short skirt, thigh-high sheer black stockings, back heels. He is sitting on a red couch and sipping a cup of tea with a smirk on his face.
Celestaux, a blue-grey skinned Duskwight Elezen man, stands with his arms crossed over his chest and looking forlornly off to the right of the camera. He has short, dark black hair with green streaks going through it and is dressed in the Elezen starter clothes with a white floral earring in one ear.
A black cat curled up on his side, his paws resting on top of a person's hand.
A screenshot of a fanfiction on ao3. Title: battle scars Author: steamingcupoftea Summary: He tried to shape out the words, but his mouth felt wrong. His tongue. How he hadn’t noticed it until then, he didn’t know, but this unfamiliar body lacked a tongue. He could cry out, but he wouldn’t be able to say anything intelligible – and maybe that was by design. Maybe this had been Fandaniel’s plan all along, to drop him just far enough away that he’d never be able to make it in time and take away the only other way he’d be able to stop them. To force him to watch his own body- No, he couldn’t think about that.