#ffxiv writers

[mimble-sparklepudding]

In Praise of Prose.

Just a quick appreciation post for all the talented prose writers in the FFXIV Tumblr Community.

Writing prose is hard work, like seriously hard work. Poetry is a walk in the park by comparison - just find a word that sounds vaguely like another couple of words and you're done (or if you're more serious-minded, write a few lines saying why things are a bit like other things, then go and put the kettle on).

I'm very grateful for the support and encouragement I've received from various Tumblr mutuals to try writing more prose, but blimey it's tough to do at all, let alone well.

So thank you to all the highly talented prose writers out there! I am in awe of your creativity and skill. Please keep on writing!

If you're looking for a (by no means exhaustive) list of some excellent FFXIV prose writers then check below the cut.

@miqomischief

@sasslett

@irisopranta

@scholarlostintime

@spotofmummery

@ainyan

@captainkurosolaire

@cadrenebula

@starrysnowdrop

@the-littlest-kojin

@blucifer08

@healersadjust

@furys-mercy

@avettabendrot

@aroseyetbloomedwrites

@loldragoon-ffxiv

@kskellington

@pumpkinmagekupo

@houserosaire

@tallbluelady

@calico-heart

@meepsthemiqo

@plenary-indulgence

@scales-claws-and-thorns

@elfie-kitten

@humblemooncat

@pinxli

@paintedscales

And many more! Apologies if I have neglected to mention your blog, this is not a complete list even of the blogs that I follow, let alone all the amazing one's on Tumblr!

#writers on tumblr #ffxiv community #ffxiv writers #ffxiv prose #ffxiv blogs #ffxiv tumblr #hooray so many talented people!

[thedarknesssings]

Dinner and Debt

Character: Ghost, pair of guards. Content Warning: Murder, thievery.

Keep your eye on me.

A hand slides down the wood of a door, a simple interruption in the planned path to a desired destination. A few days of watching led him here, prepared to claim what he’s already decided is his. Silver eyes glimmer a hiccup before his figure melts toward the floor.

Keep your breath slow.

A fog seeps, a flowing river of dreaded mist beneath the cracks. No one ever wards for the air, for the mist. Everyone breathes and the motion inside the flat speaks loudly to the fog infiltrating the space. Every breath, every motion, quivers the slowly thickening mist. A cough, a shake of their heads. Curious, what is this? What’s going on? Is there a window open?

Keep your wits about you.

They never do. The tug at their souls elicits immediate fear, a dance of panic tapped out by the wayward feet of the men meant to guard. The mist’s little glacial fingers pluck at the roots of their being, unfasten mind from matter. The perfect assassin is one never seen, one the victim can barely wrap their minds around. Life is such a precious commodity. The mist sighs and a body thumps against the floor.

Keep taking me on.

Arms flail against the grey mist. The catch in the remaining guard’s throat accompany widening eyes. He stills in that space where the mind catches up with the inevitable. A wraith-like face ghosts across the mist hovering before the guard’s eyes. His scream locks up his throat, breath burning for release from his lungs. -No.- Silence permeates the room.

Keep taking me down.

Just two. The mist drifts through every ilm of the flat, stroking over each item it finds, seeking signs of life, of thought. Minds to touch, and yet all the Phantom Fog finds now is the quiet aether inherent in items blessed with intricate spell work. The pair of faces newly caught in the mist’s web open mouths on silent screams. Their features contort with the agony of death, of regret for what they left behind. One last view of what they gave their lives for and the fog swallows them whole.

Keep your words in my mouth.

If an eye follows him now, they find the fog coalescing in a single space. The mist spirals upward, forming the thief’s figure and thickens out. Solid is a curious state, close enough that most never notice he’s not. One hand curls around the hilt of a long sword, drawing it from its resting place. The other hand gestures, the empty corpses bursting into flames, a combustion centralized and heated to the point ash is all that remains in short order.

I am at the end of the world.

The ash swirls into the fog in his wake, a strange cloak that follows his silent footsteps through the flat. Glowing silver eyes scan the place, taking note of what else lies here. He was asked for only the one item, so no other becomes disturbed. No trace remains of his presence by the time he slips beneath the door. Not even the remains of the guards placed to prevent thieves like him.

And the last thing you will know.

There’s a reason The Phantom works alone.

#ffxiv #writers on tumblr #ffxiv writers #phantom #thief #elezen #duskwight #rp #ffxiv rp #Ghost #The Phantom Fog #vignette #short story

[miqojak]

FFXIV Write 2023 #9: Fair

"There's nothing what's 'fair' in this world." The quiet, throaty tone of the little woman is firm - like the faintest brush of a velvet-wrapped blade, it's not hard to tell that beneath the pleasant sound... there is steel.

"There is only chaos. Why do the innocent perish? Why do the wicked excel? There are plenty of answers - many play by different rules, and will therefore always fail against those who refuse to be bound by rules. But the world itself is uncaring, and chaotic - there is no order to things. The good fail, and the cruel succeed. A storm hits, people die; There. Is. No. Order to things."

There is something about the soft words that belie the youth of the woman before you - no doubt a few summers shy of thirty years, and she speaks with the stoicism, cynicism, and fatigue of the world-weary as she prowls about the space, touching this, and that - overlong tail undulating thoughtfully behind her the whole way.

"Do not, then, chain yourself to society's commands. Question them. Ask who they benefit. Ask yourself why you're playing along. Ask if it is 'fair' - and for whom. The truth is more often ugly, than not - and you must be willing to do what is necessary not just to survive... but to bite back. Though you must acknowledge the truth of things, first."

The diminutive miqo'te rounds a chair, to stand beside it - a small hand resting atop the wooden frame of as much, as that orange-tipped tail of hers lashes out but once - to very nearly purr, "I think you will find that, as acerbic as I might be - as much as I embrace chaos - my deals are always more than fair."

#ffxivwrite2023 #ffxiv write 2023 #ffxiv rp #ffxiv #lfrp ffxiv #ffxiv writers #ffxiv oc #I maintain that Jak is a lot like a little unseelie #she collects secret truths about people (but does not share) #she likes deals (and loves to manipulate them to her benefit) #and loves to tangle people up in words and wax poetic about chaos

[zoetic-tome]

From A Man...

Characters: Howl Content Warning: Accidental death, blood, mention of violence, in-lore racism.

“I didn’t take nothin’, miss!” 

A slender boy, perhaps sixteen summers, tugged frantically at his arm, trying to wrench it free from the woman who was dragging him along the path. Behind them, the scattered remnants of what little he’d bought from the markets; a loaf of bread now filthy and inedible, a bottle of medicine shattered and leaking its contents onto a patch of grass, and buttons fallen in scattered disarray. 

“I know you did! Thief! Your kind can never keep their hands to themselves! Always taking what isn’t yours! If you won’t give me back my coinpurse, I’ll let the Wailers take it from you!” 

The Hyuran woman jerked the boys arm, and continued dragging him back towards the gate. His had been a simple errand from his parents, and he’d made the mistake of lightly brushing this woman in the market, trying to reach something on a stall shelf that was just out of range of his fingers. Coming to the market had been a mistake.

The precious things he needed were spilled across the ground, and this outraged woman was planning to drag him in front of the Wailers. He was almost passing. Almost. His skin a little too ashen brown, his green eyes a little too bright. He almost passed for a green. Almost. 

But almost wasn’t good enough, was it? He’d dealt with the merciless masks staring down at him while hands had beaten him before. He was a grey, and it didn’t matter if he was innocent or not. They'd take a piece of his hide while searching him for what she said had been stolen. Even though he had taken nothing. That he had only a few gil pieces left in his pockets from his errands. Not even enough now to afford to replace what she had ruined. 

The gates were still a distance away, and if he could just get free…

“Miss I promise, I didn’t take nothin’! Let me go!” He jerked again, pulling hard and digging in his heels. Past a small tree he was drug, and his other hand went out to catch it around its slender midsection, holding onto it as though his life depended on it. Bruises stained his wrist dark under the grip of her hand, and he was certain something might break if this continued. She whirled on him when she realized why their progress had slowed.

“Insolent thief!” The Hyuran woman’s insults grew more bitter the closer they got to the gates, unhindered by their briefly stalled movement, “Worthless little bastard! I hope they take your hand for this!” Fear gnawed at him with her words, and his struggle became more frantic as she gained traction and he could feel the bite of bark against his hands. He was going to lose his grip on the tree, and she was going to have the Wailers mutilate him for a theft he hadn’t even done. 

His heart beat frantically in his chest as panic set in, green eyes widening under his mop of black hair. He felt his grip slip. But instead of simply dragging him backwards, the momentum of him finally letting go and stumbling towards her sent them both tripping backwards, down into the ditch that ran alongside the road. Theirs was a messy spill, and he tucked himself in tight to try and spare himself the brunt of the damage. Still, he felt the impact of stone to his body, the way the ground caught him unkindly and without mercy for his already bruised form. He would be so sore tomorrow. But it had broken her grasp on him, and no sooner had they come to a stop than he tried to scramble back up the embankment before she could grab for him. But it was quiet behind him. Suspiciously quiet. Hands stilled in the grass, and he turned to stare behind him. The Hyuran woman was sprawled out in the ditch behind him, but there was something wrong. Blood streamed from somewhere, and her neck was twisted around the wrong way, too parallel with her shoulder. 

He swallowed the panic that continued to beat in his chest and scrambled back up out of the ditch, hauling himself over the edge. Was she alive? He didn’t want to check. If she was dead it was even worse. They’d kill him for this, even though it was an accident. Even though he hadn’t done anything. His stomach rolled and his body convulsed as he heaved into the grass. He’d killed her. He hadn’t wanted to kill her! He just wanted free!

He hurried back up the road to where his things had fallen. He’d killed someone. Someone had died. He had no mask. The wood would take him. Oh gods, Nophica preserve him, the woods would take him. They’d all heard the stories of wildings. Cursed and forgotten. The stories of the Elementals wrath, like boogeymen to keep disobedient children in line. He was frantic as he ran, quick as his legs would carry him, back to the pathways that would lead him down into the remnant caverns of Gelmorra.

It was dark by the time he reached the entrance. He would be safe below. If someone from Gridania didn’t find out. Would the Elementals tell the Hearers? They’d kill him for this. He hurtled into the back of one of the old caverns that had been converted into a store room, and wedged himself in behind some boxes. His body folded in one itself, shrinking down as far as it would go. Tears streamed down his face, and his hands went up into his black hair, folding in over himself and praying he could make himself disappear.

That if he was small enough, and unnoticable enough, nothing would come of this.

─

Continued Here.

#[ Howl ] #[ Beware The Woods At Night ] #FFXIV Writers #Part 1/2

[smallest-turtle]

Tagged: WIP game

The Game: Make a new post and post your latest line from your WIP & tag as many people as there are words. (Won’t be doing that I don’t think but I will tag people)

Peaking over her shoulder was the butt end of a rifle.

Tagged by @kich-rp

thank you! this is from the follow up to I Won’t be Sleeping, Estinien’s POV of Deidre’s return to Ishgard, the first time they see her as anything but a white mage.

Tagging: @ifithasafandomimapartofit @pillowfriendly @elfyourmother @mind-blaze If anyone not tagged wants to do this consider yourself invited!

#ffxiv #text #ffxiv writers #deidre hunt #estinien wyrmblood #full segment is: Gone were Deidre's crimson healer's robes. Gone was the staff he had helped train her for use in combat. #instead she wore a tabard of blue cloth and silver interlocking metal. He looked past her head. #peaking over her shoulder was the butt end of a rifle. #writers room #ffxiv oc #ffxiv wol

[itsladyj]

in the stained glass of these whispered hopes // FFXIVWrite 2021

a collection of prompts focusing on my Warrior of Light, Jazzele Danzleikr, a Veena Viera hailing from the snowy forests of the Skatay Range. these fills primarily follow her lore and background, as well as her relationship with G'raha Tia, from their ARR beginnings to Shadowbringers and before Endwalker.

some prompts are explicit. most are angst filled and heartbreaking. every single one lingers with the traces of pure love and hope.

these still remain some of my most favorite pieces i've ever written, and i really hope you'll come to enjoy them too.

thank you for reading! and reblogs are appreciated!

Prompt 1 of 31 ♥️ START HERE ♥️

#wolgraha #wolexarch #viera warrior of light #ffxiv writers #ffxiv fanfiction #ffxivwrite2021 #ffxiv art #ffxiv gpose #ffxiv #ffxiv shadowbringers #10.ladys fanfics #12.archive

[lyemohan]

"Hey, wyrm. You remember Ser Astrort, you savage monster?"

Amgerdr looked at the young elezen with a side glance, the pale tone of the male Ishgardian contrasting his black hair and blue eyes. His jawline was sharp, with a thin stubble starting to grow along it, give the bigoted man the appearance of a Fury-damned log of shite.

Amgerdr would not dignify the man's aggressive request, instead more focused on the cider in their gloved hand, the dark blue shade matching her long gunbreaker's coat. She closed her magenta eyes, the eyeliner of the same color meeting in the middle as her long black hair, bound in ponytail, was shown to the vile-natured man. "Hmm? Who? Don't know him, and I'm no heretic. Swive off."

"Oh, no little lass, you are," the man responded with a grunt of satisfaction. "You're the bloody shapeshifter, the monster among man. A vile wyrm that strikes in the night. You're Nott."

Amgerdr would open her eyes. She attempted to not respond to the remainder of the life she used to live. The life she tried all her life to throw away, along with the name.

She played dumb for the man, shrugging. "Don't know who in the hells that is." She would go to take another sip, only for her cheek to meet the flying fist of the man himself, knocking Amma down with a grunt as the falls to the floor, her mug flying away as she let go of it, glass shattering as it hits the ground, shards flying into her face.

She grunts as she lay on the ground, black boots with spurs over the cuffs of black pants starting to move in an attempt to gain her bearing. "You lie," the young, vengeful man, spoke. "You do know him, because you're the bloody wyrm who killed him! Who killed my father!"

His shouting was enough to get the bar to turn, despite them understanding very little. "You. You're the wyrm that took my father's life. So I'm going to take your eyes." His tone was hushed, only being heard by Amma herself, and very few others.

Swive this, she thought. She brought her right leg up to his face, kicking him hard as he went to pull out his knife. The young child of man yelped as he clutched his face, falling over against the bar. He would cry out in pain, wailing with a dramatic performance. "She hit me! That wyrm-bitch hit me! Why, I didn't do anything!"

His testimony was more convincing, as 5 other men slowly started to get up from a table, wearing the same chainmail the young man wore. Amma swore to herself, recognizing the signature red of the Convictors. The camp of aggressive dragon slayers.

"Aye, you there, bloody coward. You think you're tough, eh?" The lead Elezen spoke with a wicked tone, preparing to strut toward Amma at an intimidatingly slow pace.

She stood up, hand grasping the handle of her gunblade. Though, she wasn't able to clear leather until the 5 slayers piled on top of her, throwing fits and feet at her visage, her glasses cracked and flying off, her back facing up as she was forced to lay on her stomach.

The metal being thrown at her was leaving the flesh she had on bloody and bruised, the woman unable to fend for herself while the 5 men went to town on her. She hissed as her eyes returned to slits, bringing her arms into her chest before throwing them back out, the aetheric vessel that hid her true self from the star being cast away as wings fling the men off of her, claws and tail swinging at her assailants as she regained her bearings once more.

The bar erupted in a song of fear.

"A dragon!!"

"Fury help us!"

"Someone call the Knights!!"

Amma had no advantage here. The only option was to escape. She let out a short but loud roar, dashing to the exit of the bar and pushing it open with her black-maned-and-horned head, the crown shoving the door open as she makes herself as thin as possible, tucking her wings in close to just slip though the opening.

Outside, she could still hear the screams. She looked up in the alley she exited into, not even thinking as she hopped onto building after building, getting as high as possible as she tried to take off into the sky.

After hitting a decent sprint along the obtuse Ishgardian rooftops, she opened her wings, taking off into the skies and soaring away from the commotion.

Only for the sharp sting of a lance to enter her back, causing her to yowl in pain as she descended to the ground with a hard thud. As she blacked out, she could hear the words of her assalint. "A bit far from the Spine, are we?"

---

The next day, the dragon was released, as an eyewitness at the bar stepped forward to tell the true story of what happened. A week later, she fully recovered.

Though, as she went back to the bar, the servers turned her away, banning her from the place outright.

Amma would sigh, taking a long walk through the Pillars once more. Alone.

#ffxiv writers #ffxiv #ff14 #ffxiv oc #dragonsong #ishgard #heavensward #post war

[dragoongang]

Inner Thoughts of a Faceless Healer

 I look around, everyone is there, no one is there. I am almost faceless, few look at me though I would not lie and sometimes I get looks I would rather not; Looks of lust, of concern, of curiousity. The crowd fills in around me and few watch me which is fine, it is for the best that I am unnoticed by most it makes it easier to listen in and watch. Every now and then though I see a familiar face, sometimes it is not truly there, only a simple passing resemblance for someone I once knew and other times it is my newest acquaintances. I call them my acquaintances and I do not know why, or at least that is what I tell myself. I am self-aware, I know that I do not want to call them friends because I know that I don’t deserve it. Being self-aware is a terrible thing though, I know what I do is wrong and yet I do it anyways. 

Too many incessantly wish to be involved in the lives of those they just met. They do not respect my desires to be left alone, to work on my own. To suffer. Alone. In spite of all this I enjoy myself when I am with my acquaintances, their presence comforting and reminiscent of my old life and friends. I feel guilty every time I spend time with them, enjoying their company, their laughs and their concern because I do not deserve it. Those select few who I have confided in on my goals show their concern and tell me that I deserve happiness after all. They were not there when I participated in and watched the slaughter of innocents; I do not think they would advocate for such if they had seen it then, only imagining a vague notion of me being there. They would believe I was an unwilling participant, which is not completely wrong. I was only a child when they found me but still, there was a time I believed in that cause. That we were doing the right thing. 

I should not be alive. I do not know why it is that I am still here, why I alone survived against the odds; I relive it in my head every night. I lagged behind, my body tired from all the aether I expended to keep them alive. The sounds of battle raging around me from the roaring inferno of the crashed warships to the guns echoing in the distance; the ever-present clashes of steel and low cacophony of screams of terror, of despair, of rage. A warship came in low behind us, and suddenly a blinding flash of light shot through it. Of course we panicked; we ran as fast as our feet would carry us and yet it was not enough. It is the fact that I lagged behind that I was saved from the explosion as it crashed, the heat searing my face, my lungs and my eyes as I was thrown back into a trench. I do not know how long I had been blacked out for but it could not have been long for I saw him still suffering, trying to survive. I crawled to him, every muscle in my body screaming at me to stop and rest but I pushed through to him with my everything. He was dead of course; not quite yet but I knew once I saw him, he was dead. I did not want to believe it though; I gave everything I had left to bring him back and it was not enough. I am not enough. It doesn’t matter anymore. But I am still here, aren’t I?

#ffxiv gpose #ffxiv screenshots #ffxiv oc #ffxiv #hyur #ff14 #hyur midlander #ffxiv writers #ffxiv rp #ffxiv roleplay

[omgpeachsnapple]

Archery was the worst.

#ffxiv #ffxiv warrior of light #ffxiv writers #fanfic #explict #wolgraha #g’raha tia #g’raha x wol #ffxiv writing #ffxiv wol

[mimble-sparklepudding]

Edmont Saphiraux Leveilleur 

With his provocative grin, Saphiraux,

Easily sets a girl's cheeks quite aglow,

Once exposed to his charms,

She'll soon be in his arms,

And undergoing great stirrings below.

For the next installment of my silly poetry series, we have the dashing and adventurous Saphiraux Leveilleur of @scholarlostintime.

Younger brother to the famous Fenetrie Leveilleur, Saphiraux is a rather fun and engaging character in his own right. I definitely enjoy hearing more about Saphiraux and his adventures and I'm always happy to see him appearing on my dash.

Just as with any of the work of the very talented @scholarlostintime, the writing is always amazing to read, with a good balance of emotion and humour.

I can definitely recommend @scholarlostintime, not only because of the quality of their writing (and Gposes!), but because they are also a really positive supporter of others in the FFXIV community and a fantastic person to RP with. If you're not already following them then you really ought to start doing so at the first available opportunity.

#saphiraux #elezen oc #ffxiv #ffxiv writers #silly poetry #Saphiraux Leveilleur #ffxiv oc #ff14 #final fantasy 14 #final fantasy xiv #ff14 ffxiv #lalafellin limericks

[thedarknesssings]

Prompt 5: Devil's Tax

Prompt 5: Barbarous - FFXIV Write 2023

He is the dream.

Etched into the crease of your feverish brow. Your lips stain the air with his name. Beckoning him out.

The salt on your skin crusts his tongue. He smiles. A cruel scythe eager to corrupt you to begging. He carves himself into the shape of your bones. Dances you at the end of veins tangled around his hands.

Pray you’ll wake up. Pray you’ll never forget him. Pray that you will.

His love is a liar’s romance spat at your feet. He’ll tax you, strip you, break you apart into his toy. A sickness in your pores. You’ll bleed him. Need him.

And he’ll find you. Again and again, drag you down beneath him Sink his teeth into your flesh, claw his way into your soul. You are his wine. His endless urge. The poison in his veins.

The jailer has left the cell door open. He creeps back into you. Drags you on like an old coat.

He is the dream.

#ffxiv write 2023 #Prompt 5 #Poetry #poets on tumblr #FFxiv writers #free verse #Works for Helivant #and the Illusionist #maybe Helios too

[idanwyn-et-al]

There was a fair maiden/she lived all alone. (The Nixie's Tale, Part 2.)

For Eras, a geas binding the Nixie has prevented from revealing her story in full. As her current crew and friends continue to unravel this geas, the Nixie creates these crystalline memories; they are available for any to access within the ship.

((♪ ))

I was a magician.

This is what I remember, second. Lullabies: a babe’s first memories, dim and wordless like moss beneath the towering boughs of one’s mother. The spark of aether: a babe’s second impressions; a connection to life itself, freedom and cage in the same roving package, like one’s father. Scents of one’s first surroundings; the cleats that secure the mooring ropes of recollections, separating one from mother and father, becoming one’s own person with one’s own perspective.

Gentle, everyday gifts from the gods; the hallmark of the Age of Prayer, when I was born. They lived in everything around us: the crackling embers of the hearth; the eddies of wind that heralded weather’s changing; the thousand-thousand songs of mycelial filaments connecting plants beneath rich black soil. Too, they lived in spears of levin that rent blossomfruit trees asunder; the rustling of carrion birds picking scraps of scaled flesh from my father’s skull; the spiderwebbing cracks of ice across the waves that heralded the return of the Autumn Queen’s reavers. The shamans of my island walked closest to the gods and all their boons and burdens, but to know the gods was all of our birthrights. Yet another gift of ours that the reavers claimed as their own.

If only I had known that they were not alone in their rapacious appetites. That in comparison to the great Empire that fished me up from the sea Eras later, the Autumn Queen was no greater than a hedge witch. But even though I was a magician, the gift of clairvoyance was not bequeathed unto me, when I still walked the land to which I was born.

My final act as Himawari, the girl with cedar-green skin and sand-white scales, was to trap the Autumn Queen’s fleet within the shamans’ great undersea temple, calling upon the nixie-spirits of the river delta to aid me. The ships are still there today; suspended, half-broken, their crew members frozen for thousands of years within my song, augmented by the ice they carried in their northern blood. Because I was not a shaman, I, too, was trapped in this song of my own making; rolled within clear blue crystal like a grain of sand within an oyster’s protective pearl. I was cast away from my ancestral home and foes alike, trundled by the ocean’s currents along the seabed, the last glimmers of sunlight above receding until all that remained was the dim blue glow of my self-made prison.

I thought every thought that my mind could conjure. I clung to language; to spells; to lullabies and roving freedom and the smells of home and hearth. I tried to remain who I was; tried to remain part of the land and all its gifts, even as the great, silent beasts of the dark drifted past me, testing my crystal-pearl with teeth and tentacles. Finding it unbreakable, some carried me as an aegis; others carried me as a lure, using me to draw in half-blind creatures of darkness starving for light. Over time, I forgot my shape; I was nothing but blue crystal, born of a now-lost tribe and the spirits they shared life with. There was neither past nor future; only each moment, stretching out in blue-tinted darkness, its unbroken sameness occasionally jostled by some leviathan of the depths.

I was a magician trapped within my own threads of magic. An errant appliqué separated from the greater tapestry of the frozen reavers and their vessels, my physical form unravelling within the crystal-pearl, my flesh taking on qualities of the life that surrounded me. I hungered like they did, you see; to remain alive, despite the improbability of such a goal in crushing blackness.

One day, an unfamiliar sound scraped my crystal-pearl, harsher and sharper than teeth. I remembered a sensation I had forgotten; that of ascent. I was rising through the waters, clutched in some sort of shining claw. My crystal-pearl rotated within the claw until my eyes faced the surface, and I saw light. Impossibly-bright after the abyss, it grew nearer and nearer, partially occluded by a dark form riddled with red and blue lines of a different sort of light. I was pulled above the waves for the first time in centuries, and onto the deck of what I would later learn to be a battleship of the Allagan Empire.

They studied me, the men and women of the Empire, from outside the crystal-pearl. I was moved often, far from the sea, sometimes even into the heavens above. I could not understand how this was possible; at first, I thought these were the gods I dimly recalled from my youth, wearing elaborate robes and examining me with what I assumed to be holy relics. Once, I saw myself projected onto a screen in the middle of the air. I would not have known it was me if the tattered remnants of my colorful island robes hadn’t been floating around my… fins?! I had begun to change; to take on the physical qualities of the depths in which I’d tumbled for so long. My legs had begun to fuse into a finned tail, just like the nixies of the river; my pale scales were now the same color as my green skin; the webbing between my fingers, always present on those from my home isle, had grown larger, and each finger was tipped with squid-beak claws.

I did not know what they sought from me. After hundreds of years in the ocean’s solitude, there always seemed to be too much happening at once; my mind could not keep up. They spoke to me, sometimes; drilled tiny holes in my crystal-pearl and fed snaking tubes within them to reach me. I did not feel any pain; I had not felt anything since my own spell collided with the Autumn Queen’s protections and trapped me within my crystalline home. I did not understand the Allagan language, at first; but they kept me for so very long, and eventually I understood more than I did not. I watched some of their researchers, as I learned they were called, go from youth to old age before vanishing, replaced by a new crop. Sometimes, there were copies of the same researcher over and over again; clones, brought about in the Empire’s later years. It is difficult to recount these things now with the knowledge that hindsight brings; at the time, it felt like being in the deep sea all over again, with no concept of past nor future, only the brightly-lit chaos of each day, self-contained.

I was a magician, and now my magic was theirs. Another rapacious empire, come to claim the gifts of my birth.

Of all those who researched me, one was preeminent. I do not know what he looked like before he wore the elaborate plumed hat, the silver skull-like mask with chains for a mouth, the riotous varicolored coat. Amon, he was called, and he assured me he would give me purpose. He said I was a special being, indeed; that I would assist one Master Sari in his most holy endeavor; to lay enemy magicians to waste, that the Allagan Empire might reign forever more.

Amon gave me a voice; the voice I still bear to this day, when I am not in my own domain. It is not Himawari’s voice, I do not think; but then again, I do not remember what I originally sounded like; only that I was a musician, and a magician. Over the centuries, my crystal-pearl had absorbed the endless droning of the clipped-emotionless-mechanical voices around me; now, my voice was another in the chorus. My physical form within the crystal-pearl continued to grow and change; I knew this because the researchers became smaller, more distant, until eventually, they built walkways, each a story apart, so they could access all of me.

Master Sari took over the project. He was a magician, too; a powerful one, who had learned how to conquer what he called summoners, magicians from another isle, now under Allag’s yoke. I knew that I should be upset about this, but the grain of sand that was Himawari had not yet had time to lament this ironic twist of fate. As he settled me carefully within the center of a half-constructed ship tethered to an isle floating above the clouds, he told me of my great duty, zealous rapture enlarging his eyes. I was to bear his own summoners into battle against the remaining Meracydian insurgents. I would be a living ship’s core that could connect with each carefully-crafted soldier, tribes of summoners conscripted and corralled, their birthrights used against their former countrymen.

“It will help them to be able to refer to you by name, my dear. What is your name, exactly?” He paused, hands above the console, his self-constructed summoner’s horn pointed right at me. It was the first time any Allagan had ever asked me that question.

I was a musician, long ago. I was a magician, more recently, but still long ago. I could not remember my name, but I could remember my magicks. “Nixie”, I replied, in the voice Amon had given me; the voice for a creature molded in equal parts by the ocean’s ink-black crucible and the empire that had harnessed the sun's refulgence.

#ffxiv nixie #my writing #idanwyn wolkdraega #ffxiv rp #ffxiv writers #o glorious allag lost #and meracydia still dreams

[the-wardens-torch]

FFXIVwrite 2023 Masterpost

((As with last year, the screenshot doesn't really have anything to do with any of the entries, I just really like it.))

Golden Wings (free day)

Off the Hook

Ring

Shed

Once Bitten, Twice Shy

Check

Clear

Jerk

Grave

I'll highlight my personal favorites once I decide which ones they are!

#ffxivwrite #ffxivwrite2023 #ffxiv oc #ffxiv writers

[nyxvaledoeswriting]

FFXIVWrite Day 2: Bark

AO3 Link

Nyx didn’t want anyone to know where he was, much less what he had done. It wasn’t often that he got injured, much less in such a stupid way. The only person he knew that could keep a secret was his own boyfriend. That, and maybe he wouldn’t mind seeing the man. They didn’t get to see one another often, and this was an excuse.

“You’re absolutely ridiculous, how did this happen?” Aymeric questioned once Nyx was sat down in the man’s parlor. Nyx glanced down at the claw marks through his shirt and the shallow marks they left behind on his chest. He was quick to remove the shirt so Aymeric could get a better look at it.

“Not every dragon is happy about an alliance. I was… I was clumsy,” he winced as Aymeric touched at the wounds with a tentative hand, “ouch. I think his claws had a mild toxin or something. Stings a shit ton.”

“Our Warrior of Light? Clumsy? Perish the thought,” Aymeric teased as his fingers danced over Nyx’s shoulders and he moved away to dig through a nearby dresser.

“Har-har. You know I’m not as almighty as everyone would believe. I can still make mistakes,” Nyx responded with a slightly bitter voice. He knew all too well of the luster he gave off to most citizens. He’d done so much in such a short span of time, saved the entire world on probably multiple occasions. That didn’t stop him from making stupid decisions from time-to-time.

“But you are, my heart. You are the greatest out of all of us. Without you, many things would not exist today. We would never know peace with the dragons, the First would be a hellscape of light, the Ascians would never know peace. And I would’ve never found you,” Aymeric told him with his back turned to Nyx.

“You’re being rather sappy tonight. What’s going on?” Nyx questioned cautiously, studying Aymeric from behind. He wasn’t sure if something was eating at his lover or if he was just musing over their past.

“I just… I worry about you all the time. I can’t be with you as much as I want to be, and I’m constantly in a state of anxiety because I don’t know where you are or what is happening until afterwards. So I suppose… I just wanted to remind you how important you are. Not just to everyone you’ve saved, or to our friends, but to me. You are so important to me, Nyx. I’m in love with you.”

The stinging sensation slowly dulled away as Nyx’s full attention focused on Aymeric. He didn’t realize how much this had been eating away at his boyfriend, and he didn’t even consider that he would feel this way. Nyx never had time to worry about Aymeric, he was always so busy. Of course, he thought of Aymeric all the time, but he knew the man was always safe where he was.

“You’re important to me too, Aymeric. You know how much I love you, I absolutely adore you. I never want to make you worry, but we both know what we signed up for when we got into this relationship. I can never promise I won’t be in danger, just as you can’t. But nevertheless, I appreciate your pick-me-ups, more than you would ever know.”

Aymeric turned around and showed off a couple pieces of dried tree bark wrapped up in a satin handkerchief. Nyx tilted his head before he looked up at his lover with confused eyes.

“My mother used to save this bark for the soldiers when they came back from fighting dragons. You can steep it in tea and drink it, or have it pressed against the wounds for a few days and it will help remove the toxins from dragon claw wounds,” he explained with a nostalgic look in his blue eyes.

Nyx stood up slowly and approached Aymeric with a soft gaze. Aymeric was a little shorter than him, so it made it perfect when Nyx wanted to hug him without poking an eye out with his horns.

“Nyx, you’re injured! You're going to irritate the wounds!” Aymeric protested as their bodies pressed together snugly. The sting was downright agonizing, but Nyx could feel his lover’s warmth against him, and feel how rapid Aymeric’s heartbeat had become. A little pain was worth such an embrace.

“I love you, darling. I love you more than words can describe,” Nyx murmured against Aymeric, dipping his head so he could look at him. Aymeric shifted slightly to look up at him and they automatically gravitated towards one another until their lips touched gently.

Nyx cupped Aymeric’s cheek and pulled him closer, trying to bring him closer than physically possible. He couldn’t help it, whenever Aymeric was in the vicinity, Nyx had to be within reach of him no matter the circumstance.

Aymeric pulled back first, cheeks flushed a beautiful shade of crimson and his bottom lip jutting out in a sort-of pout. Nyx let out a chuckle.

“Let me dress your wounds,” Aymeric said airily, “and I’ll fix you some tea with the bark.”

A firm hand pressed against Nyx’s chest until he sat back down in his chair, and the au’ra grinned charmingly up at Aymeric.

“You’re beautiful, you know.”

“I think the toxins have gone to your head, let me make this tea first,” Aymeric cleared his throat quickly, his blush running up to his pointed ears.

“How silly you are, my darling. You’re perfect.”

#ffxiv wol #ffxiv #ffxiv oc #ffxiv writing #ff14 #ffxivwrite #ffxivwrite2023 #ffxiv writers #final fantasy xiv #final fantasy 14 #nyxvale ffxivwrite2023 #writing #warrior of light #au'ra wol #au'ra #au'ra male #aymeric de borel #ffxiv aymeric #aymeric x wol

[itsladyj]

new fanfic: yours was always meant for a brighter day

» Giveaway fic for the lovely @mischiefmilly

» F!WoL Au Ra x G'raha Tia • 2.4k words » Warm & Fluffy & Very Mild Angst » Starlight Celebration 🎄❄️💫

✰ summary ✰

—for all that he was sorry to ruin her surprise, the mere fact it’d been so purposefully written in Xaellic, a language he was not supposed to know, on a note he very clearly was not meant at all to read— And well… for her sake, he would not tell her that he could. 

G'raha is a little more bilingual than Dagasi expects him to be.

»Read Here

🌺Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed that! If you're looking to support me, I offer snippets and unpublished drabbles over on my Patreon for just $2 a month 💜These help me work on my more personal fics between comms! Thank you so much for your support!

Reblogs are appreciated!

#wolgraha #wolexarch #ffxiv fanfiction #ffxiv writers #ffxiv #ffxiv art #10.ladys fanfics #19.giveaways & art trades

[lyemohan]

The room was empty, save for one man. Situated in the back, an Auri child sat there, adorned in the self-same Palaka-style dress as Varshahn, though the latter had since left to attend to his other duties.

"That Estinien, man." The child's tone echoed, as if it wasn't really there, only an imagination of the mind or a trick or the aether, and nothing more. "One hells of a mind he's got, being able to plan out that far ahead based on a loose idea of what we're going into."

Amgerdr stared at her casting staff, the large red gem, surrounded by two scaled tendrils and set on a red rod, reflecting the candlelight that still illuminated the room. She spoke quietly to the figment of her imagination. "Go away, Perta."

The child would grin madly, seemingly enjoying the idea of striking a nerve. "It's not like you weren't thinking the same thing, despite what reservations you hold about him, the Azure Dragoons have always been master military commanders of Ishgard. Even if we don't know anything about the Thirteenth, his plan of attack is very sound, something I know you would hate to admit."

Perta Fray's words cut into Amgerdr with a sharp dullness, the remnant psyche dealing a slight emotional blow to the bearer of The Echo that allowed them to exist in the first place. The Elezen woman, adorned in her Ala Mhigan style top, ignored them.

"Though," Perta would continue with their song-like tone, ignoring the attitude their creator had. "I worry more about everything that comes after. Simply put, Vrtra has been running this place for a miliena and a half. It's the only reason why the people of Radz-at-Han trust him so, even with him being a great wyrm."

Amgerdr would furrow her brow. She knew where this was going. Though, she still refuses to humor the apparition.

"Their beloved Satrap even learned to speak common, foregoing his own native tongue entirely! Hells, that's proper devotion right there." The child's tone would grow darker though, as the subject matter slowly changed. "Though, Azdaja? I am not so sure the Hannish would be so welcome to her. You know how the first brood are, with Hraesvelgr's and Tiamat's general dismissal of all of mortal-kind, thinking it beneith their own affairs. A mindset most dragons of this star abide by religiously."

The black-haired Elezen's magenta eyes darted to the apparition, scowling. "What is your point?"

Perta would close their eyes. "My point, Amma, is this question itself. Would the Hannish people be willing to accept someone so alien, simply because they are related to the Satrap? Or do you think the people would see their guidance would be better suited as 4 eyes under their subjugation, the wyrm's bodies both left to decay?"

Amma would get up, her ponytail settling behind her as she blew out the candlelight. "Implying she's even herself, and not a voidsent."

Perta was gone, the visage replaced with total nothingness. Amma would turn to leave the planning room, closing the door behind her haphazardly enough to create a dull, but slightly harsh sound.

Amma cursed her echo, but knew only one path could be taken. The only way to know is to push forward.

#ffxiv #fanfic #killer 7 #fray myste #Newfound adventure #patch 6.1 #ffxiv wol #writing #ffxiv writers