Rea B Skongin'
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farlourea.bsky.social
Rea B Skongin'
@farlourea.bsky.social
370 followers 150 following 5K posts
36 | she/they | Hobby artist/writer. DMC | Drakennier | FFXIV 🔞
Professional Lucia DMC Appreciator
Ashlesha Golmorr @ Rafflesia

Drawing, gposing, and writing, because god has punished me for my hubris and my wips are never finished.
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farlourea.bsky.social
Update: Forgot about the sexism which was/is exactly as bad as you think, but have learned that Home Ec is now Family and Consumer Sciences and its continued struggle for presence in curriculums despite more inclusive/useful lessons is one of the many legacies of everyone's favorite Bush-Era Act.
Photo of G. Bush with a No Child Left Behind banner behind him.
November 29, 2025 at 9:28 PM
farlourea.bsky.social
I offer a walk down memory lane, which I still regularly look at bc I love Thorn v much and think back fondly on her various pear wigglings at least once a week.
A lalafell examining a partially disrobed girl's lower back. Some gay ass rabbit is smoking in the background.
November 27, 2025 at 6:41 AM
farlourea.bsky.social
I think Ashlesha would favor Art Thou Pale For Weariness but as for lines that capture them, it always comes back to In Secrecy
Photo of a 3-line poem which reads: "In secrecy, I have only one question of the world: Why are you doing this to me?"
November 26, 2025 at 12:41 PM
farlourea.bsky.social
Most beautiful woman in Eorzea is retired, thriving, and has never stepped foot on Tural.
A brown skinned roegadyn woman in a low cut yellow dress smiling.
November 25, 2025 at 6:07 AM
farlourea.bsky.social
You get Lucia and V for #Wipwednesday because the soup is bubbling again.
"You want comforting enough to ask a man you hate?" She takes a deep breath. If she were going to turn back, this would be the time. Instead, she exhales, sets her swords aside, and works her belt loose. "I don't hate you, V. I just can't stand you." It's quick. Fully clothed. Impersonal. Nothing at all like what is implied by the slip lodged in her couch. She keeps him at arm's length even while the pysical space between them closes and inverts. She sings. She moans so prettily that he mistakes it for singing. It flows out of her at a low and harmonious pitch that sounds like a stranger's voice teetering on a fine glass edge. He categorizes it afterward as polite sex. The same neutral way she'd described her memory of him at the party years ago with only a hint of cheek in her reflection's gaze as unmemorable—that's how he will think of it later, if he thinks of it at all. The sharing of their bodies little different than sharing the room in Fortuna. Perhaps everything with her is going to be like that. A woman who isn't there and a man who isn't there are not more real for coupling. A shiver overtakes him. It's nothing; cooling sweat offering the first notion of a chill he's had since coming to Vie de Marli. But it draws Lucia's gaze. She lingers on him, not with that oozing softness of someone thinking his wasting figure requires post-coital care or with the offput concern of someone finding him less than appetizing without the haze of desire to give heat to his cold form. As ever, she is…unbegrudging. No one so high to think they need to absolve him of what he is, nor so low as to pretend he was anything else. She knows what it is to have a body that isn't what it should be. The thought alone makes him want to put distance between them. But there is her hand on his chest, feeling a heartbeat she knows is a meaningless mimicry. Lucia is there. She's real. And with her regard entirely on him, so is he.
November 20, 2025 at 2:58 AM
farlourea.bsky.social
I'm In Danger.
Sketch of a broken android sitting with a sword, staring up unimpressed at a boy with a tail emerging from between his shoulder who is holding a similar sword. The same pair, this time with the android carrying the boy on his back. The boy is still clutching his sword close, like a comfort object, and looks off screen with a mistrustful frown.
November 19, 2025 at 6:32 PM
farlourea.bsky.social
Ashlesha has certainly gone on some arcs with C+
Series of images of a willowy dark skinned viera displaying a transition in appearance with and without C+ and according to C+ changes between expacs Series of images of a fat dark skinned viera displaying a transition in appearance with and without C+ and according to C+ changes between expacs
November 19, 2025 at 6:10 PM
farlourea.bsky.social
So Ogata is drawing V again, huh
stick figure biting the floor
November 16, 2025 at 11:21 PM
farlourea.bsky.social
Still waitin on my tablet so for today you get a sticky note scribble of goatmother Khatan.
A militant looking goat-taur scribbled in red ink with blobby little lamblings around her legs
November 13, 2025 at 12:20 AM
farlourea.bsky.social
Knowing it would have averted her true ending if she had is a little......
2 panels of a man talking captioned "I laughed, but... It hurt a little."
November 12, 2025 at 11:58 PM
farlourea.bsky.social
How it feels going home knowing I get to transcribe a bunch of thoughts into a nice fat comment to surprise an unsuspecting writer.
A young girl running by a fence waving a stick
November 7, 2025 at 2:48 AM
farlourea.bsky.social
I just think they're neat :)
Two species of arachne side by side on hills covered in flowers. A closer look at the female of the species, who has a carved mask of a woman's face in repose. Her hands are clasped and her head is bowed. The two arachne attending a horned viera with green pixie wings.
November 6, 2025 at 3:34 AM
farlourea.bsky.social
Moods, environments, a pinch of framing.
Feo Ul perches atop a sleeping viera in the flowers as early evening light falls over the hills. A dragon framed between two Allagan pillars and bathed in baleful red light. She holds a Garlean corpse in her maw while eyeing her next victim - another Garlean soldier frozen in the foreground. A dark skinned viera presses a finger to their lips for silence as twist sylph huts hang in deep green gloom.
November 5, 2025 at 4:37 AM
farlourea.bsky.social
Ultra rare Lucia/Trish....
A stick figure in a puddle of blood with "Very Normal" written over it.
November 4, 2025 at 3:24 AM
farlourea.bsky.social
A Most Favored Oberon
A dark skinned viera with a crown and mask of butterfly wings in shades of autumn's turning leaves. They hold a staff with a great horned beetle against their chest, and smile in a not entirely benevolent manner.
October 30, 2025 at 3:48 AM
farlourea.bsky.social
I'm also going to binge all your fics once I can comfortably read them with my fucked up eyes that like to treat me to blurriness and The Lights(tm) if I stare at my tiny phone screen too long.

And if you think I'm talking to you, I'm absolutely talking to you.

Give me your words. Give me.
A face with bloodshot eyes reaching toward the viewer
October 26, 2025 at 11:29 PM
farlourea.bsky.social
A little bit of Nhaza'a getting defanged (metaphorically) for #WipWednesday
A warm cloth that smelled of laurel and pine passed over his brow and his eyes fluttered with blissful relief before he could think. Ashlesha's touch was practiced, sensuous, nearly tender. The sort of touch healers had in the base and bawdy daydreams of soldiers and which was far more readily found in pleasure houses. It would not have fit Nhaza's image of Ashlesha before this day, and was nearly cause for alarm now, but this incongruity and any panic it might have raised were far away things. Being twice injured and twice healed in but one day left him in foreign depths of exhaustion, fit to do nothing but shiver and sag pathetically in the viera's touch. Enduring for however long he'd been forced to sit and war against pain and the absence of control left his thoughts in similarly overworked condition. Outrage did not matter more than the beckon of sleep. The neurolink was already on him and his leg had been shattered and mended anew. What more could there be to guard against? Ashlesha spoke to him, but his eyes had already closed and the dark ocean of slumber had him in its undertow. He had a sense of being carried, arranged upon something soft and mildly inclined. A thin blanket fell over him and chased the last of his chill away. All fell quiet. Through no will of his own, Nhaza was safe, clean, warm and well-kept. Like a doll, he thought. Even on the cusp of sleep, it was every bit as bitter as the lingering bite of bile in his mouth.
October 22, 2025 at 11:42 PM
farlourea.bsky.social
7 of Swords

#gpose | #LeLievreNoir
A dark skinned miqote sits with their feet propped up, idly manipulating the plucked wings of a beheaded sylph. The shadow they cast is of a viera. In the background, the heads of the Scions of the Seventh Dawn are mounted on the wall with iron-hilted swords dangling over their heads. Minfilia's head occupies the frame where Tupsimati is usually kept. Her sword is hilted in gold, and she is the only one lit from below.
October 21, 2025 at 10:38 PM
farlourea.bsky.social
Neither of my WoLs, but the Azem they both come from 🎇
A masked woman with salt and pepper hair and vivid pink earrings smiles with the Azem crystal in hand. The same woman stares ominously down at a viera offscreen, laughing behind her hand.
October 19, 2025 at 4:58 PM
farlourea.bsky.social
Lots of work left to go on the final version of this shot, but the proof of concept went nicely. 💜
A dark skinned miqote sits with their feet propped up, idly shifting the plucked wings of a beheaded sylph. In the background, Minfilia's head occupies the frame where Tupsimati is usually kept. A sword dangles over her.
October 19, 2025 at 1:07 AM
farlourea.bsky.social
Thancred and Ash catfight in the Crystarium, more at 11.
If Minfilia's arrival had been the sun, Thancred's is a forbidding cloud which meets Ashlesha's talent for levin and rapidly plunges the table into the preamble of a storm, so potent the mystel boy makes himself scarce mumbling that he will catch up with Ashlesha at a later time. Ashlesha rolls his eyes and refills his cup. "What is it this time, Waters." "If you're going to sound so exasperated you might consider at least pretending to have good sense. It would spare us both the irritation." "You would find other reasons to be irritated with me. Treat it as a kindness that I make it so easy for you." Thancred's jaw clenches. If Ashlesha were anyone else, anything less than the Warrior of Light, this would already have escalated past words. He leans down, bracing his hands flat on the table in a clear bid to prevent them forming into fists. "I would remind you," he rumbles between bared teeth. "That Eulmore has not withdrawn. They are still looking for Minfilia as much as they are looking for you. She is not your pack chocobo to be sending out all over Lakeland." "Of course. She is yours to keep hitched where you cannot lose her this time." "She is to be kept safe!" At the edge of my sight, Minfilia flinches. "Strange then," Ashlesha muses idly. "That your first worry is Eulmore. They want her alive. The Nightshades and all the other Laxan malcontents still worshipping the Shadowkeeper would not be so kind. Nevermind the sineaters."
October 17, 2025 at 12:00 AM
farlourea.bsky.social
Take them all, for morale. 🖤
A dark skinned viera with locs holding a cigarette and looking generally unimpressed. A roegadyn woman leaning forward to let an older viera woman cup her cheek and apply her lipstick.
October 14, 2025 at 10:09 PM
farlourea.bsky.social
One could say indeed 🤭
A viera on a peacock's back in a golden city
October 13, 2025 at 11:32 PM
farlourea.bsky.social
I have moved from the frame loom to using a rigid heddle for backstrap weaving, and since I let my intrusive thoughts win my first project uses a full 35 slots and 4 colors.
For the love of the game.
A rigid heddle warped with blue, white, pink, and goldenrod yarn.
October 13, 2025 at 2:52 PM
farlourea.bsky.social
It's #WIPWednesday and we just got that delicious loredrop so my Exarch/Lyna's Parents agenda continues.
It came as a held hand. Fingers entwined with the casual contact of students at play. It came as meals taken in each other's company. Meat forked between plates. Bread broken and exchanged between eager hands. Fruit sliced fresh and served to laughter as the juice ran down fingers and wrists and had to be chased with tongues. It came as heartbeats, shared as they rested against one another in the shade of the extended orchard that stretched south of the Caternaries and would eventually become the site of the Pendants when the Crystarium's poulation grew enough to warrant new living spaces. All quiet, save those rhythms of breath and blood reaching out between the barriers of their skin like distant shorelines in converation. Muruc's the even babble of water rushing over a pebbled beach, Cahuac's the percussive thrum of a sea wearing at a cliff face, and his own the whisper of waves waltzing with the wind on a smooth, sandy coast. Many were the starless nights they lay that way. Exhaling the demands of their posts, inhaling the strength to perservere. When the necrosis began, they kept closest to him. Diamonds spread in the joints of his right hand, clumsying his movements, clouding his thoughts. Twas the beginning of a long, harsh relationship with pain. But for their hands to soothe. But for their arms to shelter in when the crystal began swallowing his flesh whole.
October 9, 2025 at 12:29 AM