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#prompt 26 when pigs fly
idanwyn-et-al · 4 years
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(XIV||20) 26. When Pigs Fly.
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Every step she took was accompanied by a musical note. In theory, this would be delightful, but in practice, it was unsettling, seeing as this particular grove of Il Mheg chose to narrate her passage in a minor key.
“Watch your step and do not fall, do not fall, do not fall. Watch your step and make certain you do not fall asleep!”
Phantasmal wisteria bloomed before her, illuminating a path to the lake. Anne-Sophie rolled her eyes, stomping her foot in frustration. “I realize you are but doing your job as faeries, but honestly! Considering how much you claim to miss mortals being around, you certainly are quick to try to destroy them.”
Countless pairs of shimmering eyes opened all at once just beneath the water’s surface. The song continued on, “Watch your step and do not fall, do not fall, do not fall. Watch your step and make certain you do not fall asleep! If you fall asleep you’ll drown, surely drown, drift and drown. If you fall asleep you’ll drown and join us in our keep!”
Anne-Sophie felt a bud of fear blooming in the pit of her stomach. These so-called Fuath did not seem to be much like the pixies; they were more direct in their desire to keep you among them forever, lungs filled with water, unseeing eyes staring forever at the lakebed. Still, she had done her research, as always. She felt confident she could get to their underwater palace! The knight-scholar wouldn’t make bargains with them, and would stay on the correct path! For a moment, she felt her confidence returning, taking a single step forward. Why, of course she’d be just fine! She was a knight-scholar of Ishgard who’d made her way to another world entirely! Pigs would fly before...
Her thoughts trailed off as a single porxie tumbled and bumbled its way through the skies above.
Right. That was a little too on the nose for her. Turning on her heel, she ran back the way she came, followed by laughing, staccato notes the whole way.
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adeerinnara-blog · 4 years
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FFxiv 30 Day Writing Challenge Prompt 26: When Pigs Fly
It was quiet by the standards of Limsan nightlife. The third hour of the morning had just rung, and every drinking hole in the city was making ready for the end of the night. There were, as other girls had noted that night, few pickings left. Here in the Wavewalker there were mostly soused sailors and a handful of fresh-faced Maelstrom recruits making merry to forget looming rumours of distant warfronts. That was, until a pair of Yellowjackets strolled in. There was a way these types always scanned a room that suggested trouble, and Eurynine Dyvoire could feel it when a pair of eyes lingered on him. He did not take the bait, sipping his pastis serenely and keeping his eyes on the scarred wood of the bar. Sex work still existed in a kind of legal grey area, a point of contention between those who sought to maintain the city’s lawless heritage and those who wished to bring it into line with the likes of Ishgard and Gridania. And then, there were those with just enough power to try and exercise it on those who had none.  He didn’t plan on finding out which kind he was dealing with tonight; Eury sets a handful of coin on the bar top, making eye contact with the barkeep, whose eyes skitter away as insects beneath a lifted stone. Fine, then. There’s the clatter of a single chair on the stone floor behind him as he slips out the door. In heels four inches high he knew he could not hope to be silent or very quick, so he turns to take one of the little-used staircases leading down from the heights. Already, he can hear clunking bootsteps catching up from behind. One was almost worse than two. His way barely lit by distant greatlamps, Eurynine hurries downward, to where he knew he could reach the lower decks and the crowds around the Aetheryte plaza, to the safety of witnesses. He realizes that the chase is over when the corkscrew turn takes him to a locked iron gate. A private staircase and nowhere to go but the empty sky and the rushing sea below. Fine, then. His fingers curl around the little squares of paper kept in his pocket, the ones where he’d inscribed spells for moments just like this. He wasn’t the creature new-crawled from the subterane, a helpless thing to be run down in the dark. He was no longer prey. From behind, the Yellowjacket calls out breathlessly “You’ll want to play nice. Heard some unsavoury rumours about a Grey getting Maelstrom officers alone  and asking them questions ‘bout someone. I think we need to have us just such a conversation.” Nowhere to go but sky and sea. Eurynine turns, the spell activating beneath his touch with a scream of wind. Grimly amused, he replies “Maybe when pigs fly.”
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katalinhunter · 4 years
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FFXIV Writing - Prompt 26
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When Pigs Fly
Watch the chocobo run run! Oh, watch the chocobo run! His feet are big but his wings are tiny Always distracted by something shiny Watch the chocobo run run! Oh, watch the chocobo run! He'll leap into the air with a great bound But will always come right back to the ground Watch the chocobo run run! Oh, watch the chocobo run! Everyday he will look up to the sky Watching all the other birds go flying by Watch the chocobo run run! Oh, watch the chocobo run!
Katalin woke up in the middle of the night and realized she was humming softly for a moment before forcing herself to stop. She listened, everything else was quiet. What in the hells had she been dreaming about?
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zhauric · 4 years
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Prompt #26: When Pigs Fly
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Asande leaned against the wall with her arms crossed as if hugging herself when he approached. She shifted on her feet slightly, muttered under her breath with soft words. There was a shimmer in her eyes of water settled in them, glistening with a touch of light that spoke on the verge of tears. The pitch of her words rose slightly to be audible just enough.
“I can’t believe he that to me! Leaving me standing out here like a fool! I...what did I do wrong?” she said wiping at her eyes.
The man stopped and turned his head to regard her. There seemed a moment of hesitation before he stepped in her direction. A warm smile came to the hyur and he opened his hands in greeting while speaking in an inviting tone.
“Young lady,” he said. “You seem rather distressed. Is there something I can do for you?”
Asande started, seemingly bewildered by the man’s sudden appearance. Quickly she wiped away any tears from her eyes and tried a shaky smile. 
“O-Oh nothing. I mean I’m okay. I...well...just problems with my gent. He is in there with another and...”
The man raised a hand halting her words. “Say no more lass. It sounds like a pitiful excuse for a man to leave one the likes of you standing about out here in such a state.”
Asande shrugged hopelessly and hugged herself tighter. When she spoke her words seemed even softer and her eyes shifted away as if embarassed. “I had got us a room thinking we were going to have a romantic evening together but now...”
The man paused a moment then reached out laying a hand on Asande’s arm. He gave a soft squeeze to comfort her. 
“This is no place for you lass. Let’s get you to your room and away from prying eyes and then you can tell me all about. How does that sound?”
Asande hesitated, shifting the weight from one foot to another. She shook her head a moment saying, “I don’t want to see him. He may still be in there. Could you possible stand beside me and hold me close so I don’t have to?”
The man smiled deeper and nodded his head. “Of course lass. He won’t see you at all. Let’s go and get you out of this alley. No place for the like of you at all.”
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Asande raised her eyes to the man and smiled her thanks and gave a short nod. She seemed to relax slightly as her thanks came tumbling out of her mouth before he reach out to wrap an arm around her waist. Soon he was leading her back inside of the tavern and inn and immediately led her to the hall which led to the doors. She raised a trembling hand to point to the door of her room, opened it once they got to it and led him into the room.
The door banged shut behind her and Kaelivh stood there, arms crossed across his chest while grinning at the pair. The man turned his head to sturdy highlander male blocking the way out and then back to the woman who now was no longer standing as if defeated. Instead she stood fully erect, a grin of her own upon her full lips and a pair of knives in her hands. 
“If it isn’t the captain of the guard for Vermund Tasker,” Kaelivh said. “Figured it was time we spoke but a rather specific conversation I believe, eh? From all I have found out about these raids on your employer’s caravan, you know more than you have been letting on so thought you’d like to share with the class...so to say.”
The captain’s complexion reddened with anger. Kaelivh watched the man’s emotions change from concern, to fear and finally to anger.
“I won’t tell you a damn thing!” he blurted out. “W..When pigs fly I’ll speak to you! You’re nothing more than a hired thug!”
Asande gave a short laugh behind the captain while Kaelivh shrugged a single heavy shoulder. 
“Kind of said something just speaking those words,” Kaelivh said evenly. “As for the rest we’ll see. Everyone talks at some point. San’s, this is the second time we have pulled this trick. I think it’s a keeper, eh?”
Asande gave a confirming tilt of her head. “You fellas tend to think with the wrong head I say. Makes it rather easy. As for this one not talking...I’ll see about that.”
Twirling one of her knives between her fingers, Asande stepped toward the captain whose eyes began to grow wide.
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fair-fae · 4 years
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FFxivWrite Entry #26: When Pigs Fly
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FFxivWrite 2020 Prompt #26: When Pigs Fly Masterpost The First was just a little off. Sure, the people and places were different, but not alien. Fortunately, she’d found much of the language and culture to be the same. There were new names to learn, unfamiliar slang to pick up, and unknown history to research, but that was simple enough. Someone with wit and charm like Faye’s could fit in with relative ease. In some ways, the minuteness of the differences made life on the First Shard even more settling. It was easy to forget she was in a brand new, entirely separate world, until every now and then, as a glaring reminder of her foreign surroundings, a peculiar sight the Midlander happened upon would catch her off guard. Something rotund floated by her midair, flapping its wings… no, were those ears? A chubby pink pig flew by, beady-eyed and chubby-cheeked, fluttering its oversized ears as if they were wings. Faye blinked owlishly as she watched the porxie drift onward, curly tail swaying behind it. No, she wasn’t on the Source anymore.
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chrysalispen · 4 years
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Prompt #26 - “When Pigs Fly”
5.3 spoilers under the cut. 
AO3 Link HERE
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"Now you're just having me on."
"Would I lie to you?" she purred, grinding into him until the motion left him breathless. Somehow he managed to find the wherewithal to grasp her rolling hips and still them, as much as he would have preferred otherwise. With one eye cracked open to make a study of her flushed and smiling face, he grumbled:
"Frequently, Azem. Frequently."
"All right, Emet-Selch," she retorted, thoroughly undaunted, hands wrapping about his wrists, "let me rephrase my question. Would I lie to you about anything of consequence?"
"You're saying this is inconsequential?"
"Very much so."
"It required a damage report to the Bureau of the Architect-"
"Then let's say that at this precise moment in time, I am far too inebriated - and full of a sense of accomplishment - to lie to you."
Hades blinked slowly up at his mate, into amused golden eyes framed with tawny lashes - a beam of living sunlight. Her smile was as infectious and as radiant as ever, and it was always an internal struggle to maintain a frown when it was focused upon him.
"Yes," he sighed, "but a flying pig? Really?"
"Just so."
"I have no words. ...Actually, scratch that. I have far too many words. Where do I even begin?" He squinted at her in the darkness. "...Why do we even have one of those concepts? What's the bloody point?"
"We have several of them, as it happens." Azem shrugged. "It's listed in the department logs for authorized concepts. You might check the archives for more information, but I saw the paperwork for myself. Anyway- this one was feral. And it was a very large specimen. Disturbingly large. And wild, somehow. Several of them were menacing a small-"
"Menacing?"
"You heard me. Yes. Feral flying pigs were menacing a small settlement well north of here. So that's why--"
"---you stole the pegasus and took it for a joyride."
"Yes," Azem said, in as calm and matter-of-fact a voice as if she'd just informed him she had made breakfast. "But really, 'steal' is such a strong and unpleasant word. I was going to return it once I was done. Less 'joyride,' more 'requisitioned mount for Convocation business.' I filled out all the forms."
"Right. And you think the others will see it that way."
"I do," she chirped cheerfully. "I've already run it by Elidibus. Perfectly in keeping with the rules and hardly worth mention, let alone censure."
"You brought Elidibus into this?"
"Only for clarification's sake. He wanted to come along but I told him it wouldn't be wise."
He gave her a judgmental squint -- he still wore his mask of office, but the sour twist of his lips alone made his opinion more than evident. "Azem, please stop trying to corrupt our Emissary. He gets involved enough just trying to cover for you with the others, and that's entirely too much involvement."
"Personally, I think a bit of harmless trouble would do Elidibus some good." Utterly unrepentant, she grinned at him and removed the striped scarlet mask, setting it upon the nightstand. He almost reached for it, but knew she'd distract him if he tried, and she would probably be successful. "That poor boy needs someone to teach him how to have fun. Goodness knows he wouldn't have any if left to his own devices."
Hades chose not to answer that.
"So," he said very carefully, "let me repeat all of this back to you. Just so I can make certain I have the facts in order, as I am reasonably certain from what you've said that this will be on the top of the agenda minutes tomorrow."
"Of course."
"In the course of your travels, you encountered a flying pig-"
"Pigs. Plural. Not just one. An entire horde of them. Thirty to fifty, at least."
"All right, all right. You encountered a horde of flying wild pigs which were, you claim, menacing a local settlement. Precisely- Tisiphone, please don't squirm. It feels delightful, but I am trying, nominally, to perform my duties - precisely what were they doing in the process of said 'menacing' that required the Shepherd's intervention?"
"What? Oh," she shrugged, "this particular settlement maintains very large and very high quality apple orchards. It's widely known for its cider and..."
Hades took a moment to count, silently, to ten. His stare was bland and knowing.
"Hythlodaeus suggested you take the pegasus with you, didn't he?"
"It wasn't... not Hythlodaeus."
"Tisiphone."
"Oh come now, Hades! If the Convocation hadn't intervened it would have left their entire harvest in ruins and they'd have had nothing to see them through the cold season, and it's not anywhere near as explosive as the grapes incident." At his answering scowl, she let out a short laugh. "Too soon?"
"Much too soon."
"All right, the one thing I might have done differently is to let Lahabrea know I borrowed the pegasus before I left. But I did bring it back to the Akadaemia in one piece. No harm, no foul." She paused, a brief frown knitting her brows. "Well... no harm, anyway. There was a great deal of foul- but a bit of pig, er, refuse isn't going to cause any harm. Just a great deal of stink."
Hades pinched the bridge of his nose.
"...I'm going to hear about this from the Speaker first thing, aren't I?"
"Most likely. But I'm willing to wager a peace offering of apple cider will make him marginally less irate and I field-tested his creation for him. If he has any sense, I think he should be pleased with the outcome- oh, Hades, don't be so cross with me. All's well that ends well, isn't it?"
"At this rate they're going to add 'Shepherd-minder' to Emet-Selch's official list of duties," he sighed, and her laughter was a bright chime that spilled into the room.
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kittkaleen · 4 years
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FFxivWrite 2020 - Prompt #26 – When Pigs Fly Rules & Info || Prompt List || #FFxivWrite2020 Others might have given up when the snow fall began. Not Kitt. She’d been out in the bitter cold for at least three bells practicing ice magic. Over and over she casts the same three spells, frost, snow, shatter, frost, snow, shatter.  Her housekeeper trudged up the snowy hill, bringing a heavy, white fox fur, cloak, a flask of tea and brandy and a steady stream of admonitions.   “You’ll catch yer death, Miss.” Kitt grits her teeth, “I’m fine.” “Your lips are blue, for the sake of the Gods, there’s ice on ‘em.” Kitt’s brow furrows with concentration. ... frost ... snow..    “Miss! Miss! Stop!” Beryl’s caught in her frost spell.   “Dear Gods! Get out of the way!”   “Not until you put this cloak on...” Beryl’s shivering in earnest now, rubbing her hands briskly together, “... and drink some of this tea.” “I’m not finished,” Kitt says stubbornly. “Go away.”    “I’m not goin’ Miss. I won’t.” Beryl’s teeth are chattering. “It’s freeeezing!”    “I’m not cold, get back to the inn you goose.” Kitt frowns, now concerned her housekeeper waded through the snow, got caught in the periphery of a frost spell, and is far more likely to catch cold than she is. “My magic keeps me warm enough. Away with you.”    “Pigs will fly 'afore I leave, Miss.” She sneezes. “Dear Gods, woman!” Kitt grabs the fur cloak, wrapping it ‘round the Miqo’te woman’s shoulders. “Fine, fine, you’ve out stubborned me.” Kitt casts a teleportation spell, bringing them to the snowy courtyard at Camp Dragonhead. “To the inn, then.” The women walk side by side, boots crunching in the icy snow, Kitt scowling, Beryl smiling smugly. “I win.” She says laughing merrily. Kitt can’t resist the infectious laughter and smiles.  “This time,” she says chuckling.       
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chocoblep · 4 years
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26: Summers
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When he was but a boy of seven summers, Qorin was just as tall, just as gangly, and just as spirited and strong as everyone else his age. They played together and trained together, ate together and did chores together.
As a boy of sixteen summers, Qorin found that his brothers had physically outgrown him. Where they had begun to develop into men, Qorin had lagged behind, growing decidedly more feminine in comparison. And when that had happened, the bullying had begun. Those who had been friends became antagonistic, and some he’d not befriended surprised him by being generally accepting. By and large, though, he was picked out as a target during training or during games because they thought him a weak point.
For a long time, Qorin thought he was a weak point, and he dreamed of a day when he would finally grow taller and stronger, too.
A man of twenty-six summers, Qorin knew he was done growing, done filling out, and at last came to the realization that he was not meant to be a traditional Xaela man in the way that his brothers were. One of them cornered and assaulted him. He never talked about it. He left the tribe a month later, feeling lost and ashamed, and swore to himself that he would never go back.
A man of thirty summers, Qorin stood on a beach in Mist, watching a Xaela sunning himself on a rock. The Xaela man was well-built, tall, and muscled; everything Qorin wished he could have been but knew he never would be.
He turned his eyes to the sand at his feet and resisted the urge to join the Xaela on the rock.
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eorzean-wayfinder · 4 years
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FFXIVWrite2020 - Prompt 26 - When Pigs Fly
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((Continued from Here)) 
The letter taunted her, teased her, whispered to her, but Isobel just started at it. It had been so long since she’d seen or heard from Marron. She wasn’t sure what to think. He hadn’t pursued her from Ishgard. He never contacted her family, her brothers would have mentioned something. He never tried contacting her since she left. 
Had she needed space? Well yes, but there was a part of her that had always hoped he would come after her. The part that loved him hoped that he would chase after her and proclaim how wrong he’d been, apologize, and they could go live that happily ever after. 
That part of her was also delusional. 
Isobel paced along the floor in front of the letter. She was happy with her life now outside of Ishgard. She got to travel wherever she wished, be friends with anyone she wanted, study however she liked, have relations with whomever she liked and all without the oppressive Ishgardian society looking down on her for it. Isobel loved her freedom and what had been there before was firmly in the past now that her marriage contract was dissolved. But there was that letter just staring at her. 
It connected her back with that past. Isobel cursed as she picked the letter up, her curiosity getting the better of her. 
My Dearest, Isobel, 
I write to inform you of my sincere regrets regarding the actions that may have led to the dissolution of our marital contract. Solicitous actions by my brethren led to an over-abundance of rodomontade. Whereas the aforementioned rodomontade may have created an unintentional sense of offense. Even if the...
Isobel felt her lip curl as she started to read the letter. This wasn’t written by Marron, that much she could tell. It was clipped, overly formal and had too many scholasticate style words to be from the heart. While it was in his hand writing Isobel had to wonder if he dictated it from the same idiots who wrote up their original contract. She took a deep breath, closing her eyes and counting to twenty. Even now, ever after all this time he couldn’t just speak for himself! 
She shook with suppressed emotions and scanned the letter for any details that might be specifically him, but couldn’t find anything. Just the same strange overly formal writing and poor sentence structure. Really, she always thought he could write better than that. There was a small paragraph at the bottom requesting to meet with her that they may ‘overcome any hostile relations between them’. 
Isobel scoffed as she read it. “Certainly I’ll meet him, when pigs fly.” she rolled her eyes and crumpled up the paper, throwing it at the pile of other paper balls in the corner. No, if he wanted to see her again, he would need to come and find her.
((Marron belongs to @ffxivaltstars​ ))
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cadrenebula · 4 years
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Prompt #26: Flown the Coop
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Alfa had decided to do some hunting for once. Interested in both some fresh meat and the chance to burn some energy on something that wasn’t a striking dummy. His new job did not leave a lot of time for hunting.
He really did need to work on hiring people...
He turned the handle on the spit where a portion of the small boar was cooking. His hunt had been successful. Going for the smaller boar on purpose so as not to waste too much meat if he didn’t get it cleaned and cooked before leaving the woods.
Turning towards his pack for a moment to fetch the salt to preserve the rest of the meat with. Frowning as he heard the flapping of wings. Only for him to turn and find a Death Gaze swooping down to steal the remainder of the boar from him.
“Oh come on... Really?” Alfa glowered as his meat flew off in the grasp of the cloudkin. Now he really wished he paid more attention to archery then Domi when the man had tried to teach him. Now the question was if he felt vengeful enough to track the Death Gaze or settle for the small section he had cooking on the fire.
With an annoyed huff, he settled for what he had. After all the hunt hadn’t really been for the meat to begin with anyways. Next time he’d just go hunting some Death Gaze an hoped he killed the thief.
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hale-13 · 3 years
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Strangulated
By Hale13
For the Summer of Whump Day 26 Prompt - Asphyxiation
“That’s pretty new,” Peter muttered aloud, perched on the side of a building in Midtown and staring intently at the man in a full on metal rhino costume destroying the front of a Well’s Fargo. The police that had responded to the call had drawn their weapons and were perched behind their cars, clearly just as baffled and making no attempts to stop or prevent the crime.
Words: 1754, Chapters: 1/1 (Complete), Language: English
Fandoms: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Rating: Gen
Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Rhino
TW: Strangulation
Read on AO3 or below the line break.
“That’s pretty new,” Peter muttered aloud, perched on the side of a building in Midtown and staring intently at the man in a full on metal rhino costume destroying the front of a Well’s Fargo. The police that had responded to the call had drawn their weapons and were perched behind their cars, clearly just as baffled and making no attempts to stop or prevent the crime.
“It is new Peter,” Karen’s voice chirped happily from his mask. “You have not faced this criminal before. Would you like me to activate instant kill?” She sounded far too hopeful for Peter’s liking and he sighed, dodging the small chunk of concrete that flew his way.
“Karen, darling, love of my life. We’ve talked about this,” he told her gently, swinging closer and dropping down behind the line of cop cars. “Instant kill is not the answer to all lives problems.”
“If you say so,” and she sounded so disappointed. Peter would have to have a conversation with Mr. Stark – he had no idea how he made his AI’s so lifelike but he really wanted to know.
“Ugh,” one of the cops said, rolling his eyes as he noticed Peter. “Scram Spider-Guy, this ain’t any of your business.”
Peter fought an eye roll of his own. “Real nice pal,” he said sarcastically, stepping forward anyway. The guys partner nudged him pointedly in the side.
“Just send in the freak. Might save us the effort.” Peter fought the urge to cringe at the sneer directed at him. He had a pretty thick skin but he wasn’t the biggest fan of being called a ‘freak’. Especially by the people he was trying to help.
“Happy to be of service,” Peter grunted with a two finger salute. “Just stay back and let the professional work.” He fired a web and took off in the direction of the rhino guy before either of the police had the chance to respond. He purposely used their car as a jumping off point just to really rub it in and smirked a little at their grunts of irritation. “Hey big guy!” He called as he landed in the pock-marked and cracked street. Rhino-guy turned around and charged with a roar. “Whoa there!” Peter called as he jumped over his head. “You haven’t even introduced yourself yet!”
“I will squash you like bug!” The man said in a thick Russian accent, scraping one of his feet against the ground like a bull and charging Peter head first again. Peter nimbly dodged again and dangled with one hand from a nearby streetlight.
“You know spiders are arachnids right? Not bugs?” Peter bantered, swinging around the pole and releasing at just the right moment to launch himself across the street the nail Rhino in the face, sending him stumbling back before he corrected himself with a roar. Peter somersaulted out of the way of another charge.
“Stay still so I can kill you,” he roared.
“Tempting,” Peter mused, webbing Rhino’s arms to his sides. “But I’ll pass.”
Rhino roared again in obvious frustration and ripped through Peter’s webs with great effort. “That’s not ideal,” Peter said as he fired more webs in an attempt to slow down Rhino to no avail. Freed once more, Rhino changed forward. This time, however, Peter took a step back into one of the holes in the asphalt and tripped; he was able to right himself quickly but not fast enough to dodge out of the way of Rhino’s hands.
“Oof,” Peter gasped, hands flying up to his throat where Rhino had wrapped his mechanized hands around Peter’s throat, holding him a couple feet above the ground and leaving Peter to flail his legs in an attempt to escape. “Not cool bro,” Peter breathed out with his limited air supply as the Rhino squeezed tighter and backed him up to slam Peter into a nearby brick wall.
“You talk too much,” Rhino grumbled, redoubling his hold on Peter and making him grunt with effort and scrambled to pull the hands from around his throat.
“Peter your pulse ox is dropping rapidly,” Karen said, displaying the number on his HUD and Peter squeezed his eyes shut as it ticked from ninety-three percent to ninety-two. “Calling Mr. Stark.”
“No don’t,” Peter wheezed out a little desperately, his throat feeling raw and swollen and his lungs beginning to burn.
“On my way kid,” Tony’s voice said through his comm as Karen connected his mentor to Peter’s HUD. “Any chance you can break out before you pass out.” Peter just let out a frustrated puff of air and, with intense effort, lifted his legs to press his feet against Rhino’s chest to begin pushing. His vision was tunneling and pulsing around the edges and Peter knew it was only his stubborn pig-headedness and sheer force of will that was keeping him conscious at this point. The pulse ox reading in the corner ticked down to eighty-seven and, with Herculean strength, Peter finally knocked the Rhino away from him and collapsed to the ground.
“‘M good,” Peter croaked tightly, letting his head rest back against the road as he recovered his breath. He didn’t have long through as his Spidey sense tingled violently and he threw himself to the side of the road to dodge out of Rhino’s path. His vision was still a little spotty and he stumbled like he was drunk but Peter was able to pull himself back to his feet and stand without assistance. “Not cool dude,” he said, his throat burning and his words coming out like he had been gargling gravel.
He needed to end this quick. He couldn’t afford to get caught again. With effort, Peter jumped back into the air, firing webs at rapid speed as he did so – attaching Rhino to the ground in a veritable cocoon. Rhino screamed in anger and struggled but Peter’s webs held this time much to his relief. “He’s all yours boys,” he said in the direction of the police, his voice thready and painful and he swallowed down a cough.
It took all the energy he had left to swing away, alighting on a nearby apartment roof and dropping first to his knees and then back to sit cross-legged. His neck hurt and he could feel the swelling starting to constrict his trachea and vocal chords. Tony landed in front of him a few seconds later, stepping out of his suit and squatting down in front of Peter with several cracks and pops of his knees.
“Try not to talk buddy,” Tony told him, lifting his mask up to his nose and pulling the neck down carefully, wincing at whatever he saw and making Peter hunch his shoulders and pull away, fixing his mask back to its usual position. “Helen’s waiting for us back in the MedBay. I’m going to carry you and your not going to bitch about it capiche?” Peter rolled his eyes knowing it would translate to the large white lenses on his mask but didn’t protest when Tony stepped back into the Iron Man armor and picked him up.
The flight back to the Tower was quick since Peter had ventured into Manhattan to patrol today and they were soon landing on the small balcony outside the MedBay doors. Peter still felt a little light-headed and dizzy and swayed a little in place when Tony lowered him back to the ground to stand on his own while the suited disassembled around him and flew off to the armory. “Steady there,” the man said gently, slinging Peter’s arm across his shoulders and helping him walk into the building.
“Hey Peter,” Helen Cho said as she approached them from the nurses station down the hall and ushered them into an open exam room. “Karen sent me your stats so let’s just see the damage yeah?” She said as Peter settled on the exam bed.
Peter smacked his hand into the spider emblem on his chest, letting the suit fall down to rest around his hips, pulling his mask off and tossing it next to him on the bed. Dr. Cho wrinkled her nose and softly palpated Peter’s neck making him grunt and grimace, manfully resisting the urge to pull away from her. “Well you’ve already got some pretty severe swelling,” she said, clipping a pulse oximeter onto his finger and frowning at the result. “And you’re still not oxygenating as well as I’d like.”
“So what’s the plan then,” Tony said, slapping a hand over Peter’s mouth when he opened it to speak and ignoring the glare Peter sent him and the spiteful lick Peter gave his hand in the hopes that Tony would remove his hand.
“Well I’m going to start supplemental oxygen first,” Dr. Cho said, unwinding an oxygen mask from the wall and pushing Peter back until he was reclined on the bed and slipped the mask over his mouth and nose. “I’ll have a nurse come in with something for you to change into and then I want to start IV steroids and pain relief to get the swelling down. With you’re healing,” she said addressing Peter, “you should only be here overnight. I just want to make sure that your airway doesn’t swell closed. You’ll also need to rest your voice since you probably have some damage to your vocal chords.”
Disappointed, Peter nodded. This was not in his plan for the day and he was really looking forward to playing Beast Slayers with Ned tonight but, if he was confined to a MedBay bed and doped up on his pain meds he doubted he would be worth much of anything. Well at least he’d probably catch up on some of his sleep.
A few hours later, floating due to his super strength meds and curled up under a pre-warmed blanket, Peter squeaked out a hoarse ‘thanks’ making Tony, sat beside him and tapping away at a tablet with his feet propped up on the end of Peter’s bed, fix him with a glare. “Aren’t you supposed to be resting your voice?” Peter just gave him a dopey smile and burrowed deeper into the blanket, adjusting the melting ice pack that was wrapped around his still tender throat.
He’d have to do some research of mechanized rhinos in the morning. He had already come up with some fun tweaks for his web fluid that might be beneficial going forward. With chemical equations dancing around in his brain, Peter fell into an deep, easy sleep.
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kunstpause-archive · 3 years
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Kunstpause’s FFXIV writing Masterlist
(Here is my original masterlist for FFXIV Write)
personal favorite prompt: Splinter personal hardest prompt to write: Paternal a prompt i’d like to explore more: too many... At the moment: Lucubration, bc I am in the kinktober mood and already have some wonderfully raunchy screenshots to go with that...
I wrote some of these for Althea and some for Cassia. Here they are in chronological order as the events are happening in the game:
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Althea:
| Day 13 - Hide | Day 6 - Pathetic | Day 11 - Ultracrepidarian | Day 4 - Clinch | Day 12 - Tooth and Nail | Day 10 - Avail | Day 21 - Foibles |
Reworked and as a series on Ao3: All The Things You Shouldn’t Do
Kinktober - mind the warnings!
Don’t Falter - Thea/Zenos - Knifeplay, Blood, Power Dynamics Don’t Bend  - Thea/Zenos - Pegging, Asphyxiation Don’t Break  - Thea/Zenos - Cnc, Emotional Manipulation, Violence
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Cassia
ARR through Stormblood, (mainly Cassia/Haurchefant)
| Day 5 - Matter of Fact | Day 2 - Sway | Day 1 - Crux |  Day 15 - Ache | Day 18 - Panglossian | Day 22 - Argy-bargy | Day 8 - Clamor | Day 28 - Irenic | Day 9 - Lush | Day 17 - Fade  | Day 25 - Wish |
Shadowbringers (Cassia/Urianger, Cassia/Emet-Selch, eventual ot3)
| Day 3 - Muster | Day 20 - Hypocrisy | Day 24 - Beam | Day 16 - Lucubration (nsfw) | Day 23 - Shuffle | Day 29 - Paternal | Day 30 - Splinter | Day 19 - Where the Heart is | Day 7 - Nonagenarian |  Day 26 - When pigs fly | Day 27 - Regret | Day 14 - Part |
Kinktober -  mind the warnings
Complications Haurchefant/Cassia - Baths
As You Watch Emet-Selch/Urianger - semi-public sex, handjobs See And Be Seen Emet-Selch/Cassia - voyeurism/exhibitionism The Best-Laid Plans Emet-Selch/Cassia/Urianger - double penetration, praise kink, hair pulling
I’ve also written Cassia’s origin story of how she landed in the FFXIV and what happened to her until the start of the game here: By Whatever Means Necessary (and elveny did the same for Cassia’s twin sister Adriene over here)
So at some point I am going to have to make a more thoroughly organised masterlist, but so far this is the gist of it.
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aethernoise · 3 years
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Compilation time! Thank you @sea-wolf-coast-to-coast for your hard work organizing and hosting another fantastic #ffxivwrite! 
Prompt fills
1. crux | 2. sway | 3. muster | 4. clinch | 5. matter of fact | 7. nonagenarian | 8. clamor | 9. lush | 10. avail |11. ultracrepidarian | 12. tooth and nail | 14. part | 15. ache | 16. lucubration | 17. fade | 18. panglossian | 19. where the heart is | 21. foibles | 22. argy-bargy | 23. shuffle | 24. beam | 25. wish (nsfw) | 26. when pigs fly | 28. irenic | 29. paternal | 30. splinter |
Reading guide & final thoughts below
- - - - - - -
Fills by major characters and/or relationships:
Alyx & Aymeric: 4, 5, 8, 11, 16, 21, 23, 25, 29, 30
Alyx & Ardbert: 2, 9, 14, 15, 18
Rhodry Vance: 7, 12, 26 (inc. @holyja’s Hyana Geriel) 
Alyx, Emet-Selch and/or Hythlodaeus: 3, 17, 19
Alyx & Ahlis Ildilayan: 1, 22 (thanks @ahlis-xiv) 
- - - - - - - 
Lots of character development for Alyx this time in particular, as well as fleshing out some important relationship moments. While I didn’t end up accomplishing any of my loose goals (wedding planning coughs) I wrote a lot of ideas I had been holding onto for a long time. I end the month feeling very refreshed for having cleared out some mental backlog! Also, I was brave and posted smut on main, so that’s fun. 
The Ardbert pieces will eventually be edited and included in Sundered on AO3, and at least one of the Alyx & Aymeric pieces has already become part of an upcoming Damn Well chapter. The rest will remain here untouched unless inspiration strikes me to embellish and continue--it’s certainly happened before.
Thanks again Moen for your hard work, and everyone who participated--writers, readers, well-wishers, etc--and for your notes and feedback on my stuff :) As always, I see you and appreciate you. You are the wind beneath my creative wings, or something cheesy to that effect. Happy October!
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starswornoaths · 4 years
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Prompt 26: When Pigs Fly
Did someone order *checks notes* “Fordola gets released into Scion custody and Lolorito is made a public mockery of?” I have it right here for you.
Word count: 2,559
When Serella took the mantle of Acting Antecedent as the Archons fell and slept, she had thought it would be a largely symbolic appointment, with the odd coordination between Alliance leaders and the remaining Scions. The thought of that sort of title being so impotent in its use when weighed against what she had to sacrifice to uphold it made her stomach churn, but she could, so she must, so she did.
Then she thought about it more, about what Minfilia would do, were she still with them all. She thought about what Miniflia would do were she witness to the atrocities the city-states got away with, when they thought themselves safe within their own borders to carry out their misdeeds. What path would she have walked, what action would she have taken, and how would Serella measure up?
Then Serella began to test the ways her newfound title could be put to work for the good of the people. Sometimes as a sword. Sometimes as a shield. Sometimes as a hand held out in offer of aid, or made into a fist.
This time, she would have to use her words and her wits. 
“I have this…” Serella muttered to herself, pacing in the antechambers to the Blood Sands. “I have to have this.”
She couldn’t screw up something so important. They were sure to argue that her formal demand against the Sultanate and the Syndicate for the release of one Fordola rem Lupis into the custody of the Scions of the Seventh Dawn would be a partisan reach, a dismissal and destruction of their neutrality. She would beg to differ, but then, the Syndicate didn’t get to the positions— and the level of power— that they had by playing by the books. All the more true now that Raubahn was no longer occupying one of its seats.
But Serella had expected this. As a showing of their own hypocrisy, she spread word of the misdeeds and overreaching of the Syndicate in employing the Brass Blades to strap a bomb collar around a nineteen year old girl who had been subjugated and coerced by Imperials into acting on their command. She had thought it would take more for the people of Ul’Dah to be swayed, but then, the more she mentioned the fact that it was with the Brass Blades and not the Immortal Flames that had taken her into custody, and how highly suspect it was that they have such authority, the citizenry began to demand a say in the matter.
The only place with enough seating to hold a public debate was, incidentally, the Colosseum— a fact that Serella intended to capitalize on.
The door to the antechamber creaked open, ever so slightly, and Serella couldn’t hide her surprise when a familiar, pink garbed lalafell woman slipped into the room and closed the door behind her.
“‘Tis I! Your favorite merchant’s daughter, Lady Lilira,” Nanamo said, all smiles and a wink. “I couldn’t stand the thought of not offering some words of encouragement before the debate.”
“You honor me.” She knelt, head bowed, as was expected of her.
When she lifted her head, Nanamo was regarding her with somber eyes, lips pulled into a thin line as though she struggled with the sight of her.
“Minfilia had moments of vulnerability,” She gently reminded the Acting Antecedent. “Moments where she confided in us— all of us. It is no fault of yours that you are human. You can lean on us.”
“I am not Minfilia.” Serella’s smile matched the Sultana’s. “But it means much that you would encourage me so.”
“Please, take heart— I’ve been hearing the whispers of the people. They’ve long been tired of the Syndicate’s overreach— and by extension, the Sultanate’s lack of power.” After a moment’s hesitation, she stepped closer and laid a hand over Serella’s. “Though you will walk out with none at your side in a few moments, you are not alone.”
“Aren’t I?”
“Not at all. The Alliance has been searching for a way to bring this to discussions besides— or so said the Lord Speaker of Ishgard, last I had him over for tea. You have allies here, in the stands today— with their own opening arguments, prior to yours and in support of your demand. For my part, I will do what I can to sway the public and my cabinet both.”
That surprised her greatly. Though the Alliance was as one against the Empire, it was hardly a secret that there were disagreements among the policies and procedures of each city-state, and their response— or lack thereof— to the struggles of the people. If they thought this was bad enough to band together on...mayhap she was finally getting through to them. Mayhap the rejoining of Ala Mhigo and Ishgard into their ranks was the catalyst for change they needed.
Good.
“That’s all I can hope for. Thank you, Your Grace.”
Nanamo didn’t tarry: she couldn’t. But she did give Serella’s hand a squeeze before dashing back through the door, doubtless to be changed into the finery befitting her station, in anticipation for this debate.
It didn’t take long for them to call her. Standing before the closed door, she waited for it to open to step out. On the other side, she could hear Merlwyb’s closing statements in staunch support of her proposition, nearing the end, by the sound of it. The following applause all but confirmed it; it was almost time, then. With a deep breath— and a prayer for Minfilia to guide her, wherever she might be— she stepped out into the arena as the doors swung out for her a few moments later.
Her experience as a Paladin had made her familiar with the Blood Sands— and the Colosseum itself. Her old stomping grounds, where her myth was nearly as looming as Raubahn’s, though not near as lengthy or impressive. It boded well for her that the feeling of stepping out from the dimly lit halls and into the bright, brilliant Colosseum itself wasn’t disorienting.
As her eyes adjusted, she spied the Syndicate sat behind a long table, draped in silk embossed with the Ul’Dahn flag and poised high enough that they towered, ever so slightly, above where the debate pulpit had been set up. It came across as hideously ostentatious of them, though she withheld comment until she could properly take her place. Behind the Syndicate, in the Sultanate’s throne overlooking the sands themselves, Nanamo presided, dressed in all the frippery of her station, as though she had never stolen away to offer words of encouragement. The Alliance leaders sat in the tiered audience seats just below the throne in a liminal space almost directly behind the Syndicate’s table.
All eyes on her. No going back.
“Acting Antecedent.” Lolorito addressed, voice drenched in smarm and arrogance, as ever. “We have heard supporting statements regarding your formal request for release of Fordola rem Lupis into your custody.” He folded his arms over his chest, face otherwise impossible to see for the mask he wore over his eyes. He still looked smug, regardless. “As always, we are happy to work alongside the Scions of the Seventh Dawn and our Allies both. In the same way I extended my apologies to the Alliance leaders in attendance, I must also, on behalf of the Syndicate, extend them to you as well, for the choice in venue.”
Serella avoided grinning, instead gestured out to the audience with a sweep of her hand.
“The only venue that can fit enough of Ul’Dah’s people to represent themselves is a Colosseum where they are meant to be entertained and distracted. Your apology should rightly be laid at the feet of your constituents. Not mine.”
At the uproar in the stands, Lolorito’s lips thinned. Even through the shield over his eyes, she could feel the head of his glare intensify.
“You are, at the very least, appropriately dressed for the Colosseum!” Lolorito noted her Paladin armor, gleaming to a shine in the torchlight of the Blood Sands, lips curled into a snarl.
“I come to you as the Acting Antecedent of the Scions of the Seventh Dawn,” She began. “But that title is only temporary. Before I am anything else, I am a free Paladin. My soul crystal was bestowed upon me by the Sultanate’s own shield bearers, earned through service to Ul’Dah’s people. All I have ever done, I have done in the name of justice, and the name of protecting those who cannot protect themselves.”
“Do you imply that Fordola rem Lupis cannot protect herself?” Another of the Syndicate asked, flabbergasted at the notion.
“Few could, against a bomb strapped to their neck.” She retorted. “Fewer still would even try, given it was put there by the Brass Blades, who, if I recall correctly, do not answer to the Alliance, but to you.”
The murmur from the crowd was a low roar, but its tone was undeniable: few were pleased with the notion of such a cruel weapon as it was, but being put on a prisoner of war, and by someone outside of direct Alliance orders, no less, rankled the citizenry for the implications it had. Who would be safe among them from it, given who was responsible?
“We decided swift action had to be taken—”
“Out of jurisdiction of the Alliance.” Serella replied. “Paint me as one who comes to you as an opportunist all you like, I come to you through proper channels and after following appropriate protocol. The Syndicate is not Ul’Dah, and the Syndicate should not get to have unobstructed authority to defy both the Alliance and the legalities of the battlefield to collar a nineteen year old girl when she was at her most vulnerable, when it was presumed that no one would be in her corner.”
“She is working alongside the Scions, is she not?” Lolorito snapped.
“With a bomb collar and a handler. That were put there by the Brass Blades. On order of the Syndicate.” Serella enunciated herself very, very clearly. “Which is why we are here. The moment I was informed of this development, I took what steps were needed to see such a grave dismissal of human rights undone.”
“She is a danger—”
“For the resonant? The artificial Echo she bears?” Serella asked. “The selfsame abilities she has put to use— even before threat of explosion for disobedience. I will remind you she saved the entirety of the newly formed Ala Mhigan parliament under no one’s orders. She chose to do that, willingly surrendered her blade before it was asked of her, and outright asked to be taken back to her cell at the conclusion of the battle against Lakshmi.”
“You have a point to all of this, I am certain.” A bored Syndicate member replied around a yawn.
“My point is that there is no point for the treatment Fordola rem Lupis has received— even more notable prisoners of war that have committed worse crimes than she have not been treated so harshly by the Alliance. A standard has been established, and the Syndicate has willfully ignored it, as it always has, when it is most convenient for them.”
The cheering from the crowd rivaled some of her best matches in the Sands. Uproarious and unanimous, the people cheered. So raucous were the people, Lolorito had to spend several minutes seething quietly, staring down at Serella. She met his stare with every onze of ire she had in her body— which at that point, was likely a frightening amount.
She had planned for this meeting. Planned, and prepared, and tried to think of every single possible outcome that she could counter. Why she had the foresight to bring a porxie with her all the way from fucking Norvrandt escaped her at the moment, but what mattered was that she had one and that Lolorito was such a smug little swine that he had thought himself beyond her reproach, unable to combat him in a matter of public debate on government policy, that he had the utter nerve to say the words, “I will release Fordola rem Lupis to the Scions when pigs fly!”
“Swear it.” She said in the ensuing silence.
“Wh-what?” Lolorito sputtered.
“Swear to me, under the eyes of your people, right now, that you will release Fordola rem Lupis to Scion custody when pigs fly.”
“Must you commit to making such jokes? How inappropriate—”
“I’m not joking.” Her eyes narrowed. “Swear it.”
“...Fine. I’ll call your bluff.” Lolorito spat, one hand over his heart, the other raised in vow. “I do swear, Fordola rem Lupis will be in the custody of the Scions of the Seventh Dawn when pigs fly. Now then, if there is no further—”
Even before taking the temporary mantle as Acting Antecedent, Serella’s hands had made many a shape to help others. Sometimes, they were held out in friendship, sometimes clenched into a fist.
Just this once, her hands offered a flying pig.
“Angelo, to me.” She said softly, and opened her pack.
The porxie, delighted to have come along on a trip while Alisaie had worked odd jobs around Mor Dhona, fluttered out of her pack with a happy little snort.
The crowd gasped. Angelo flapped about happily around her head. Lolorito gawked, jaw slack, at the pig. Which was, in fact, flying.
“It’s an automaton.” He sputtered. “It has to be, you witch—”
“Angelo, greet.” Serella said, and pointed straight at the Syndicate table. 
Snuffling all the while, he zipped over, sniffing and snorting each member one by one. One of the members, delighted at the warm little porxie, offered it scritches between his long ears, prompting him to pause a bit and preen for her. At her whistle, Angelo returned dutifully to her side, perched on her shoulder. 
“That is no automaton,” the won over Syndicate member cooed. “My little dog at home is just as playful!” She clapped her hands. “It seems we have an agreement to honor, Lord Lolorito.”
“It— I— that is—!” Lolorito could barely get the words out between grinding his teeth and seething as he was.
“If you want a more symbolic response, rather than a literal one,” Serella mused in the wake of his infuriated quivering. “I am capable of casting aero under your seat, Lord Lolorito.”
Later, when Serella received the key to Fordola’s cell and was escorted by engineers to assist in the removal of the collar, Fordola asked her two questions: how in the hells did she managed to convince them to do this, and why did she do it at all?
The second question was the easiest to answer: because it was the right thing to do. The former took almost the entire trip to Mor Dhona to explain, though Angelo sat in Fordola’s arms, snuffling happily at her dazed petting, certainly helped to clarify a few things.
“You called him a pig.” Fordola said after a long moment. When Serella looked up, she was trying to hide a smile.
“Not at all. I reminded him that he is a pig.”
It was nice, to see the girl laugh, to be allowed to be young and silly, nicer still for her to know that she was under no threat and had no master. Just as she deserved.
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Prompt #26: When Pigs Fly
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#FFxivWrite2020 is underway – a daily writing challenge presented to the Final Fantasy xiv writing community for the month of September. You can join any time throughout the challenge with any prompt number!
Entries can be written on any online writing platform (tumblr, Archive of our Own, Google Docs, etc.). Submit the link and be sure that I have reading access.
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Rules & Info || Prompt List || #FFxivWrite2020 || kofi
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autumnslance · 3 years
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Dreams of Home - Lyn’s FFXIVWrite 2020 Masterpost
Also found on Ao3 as “Dreams of Home”, with some editing/revision done after Challenge completion. The Free Day posts are in other Ao3 threads; for the Extra Credit days this year I finished a couple WIPs too long on the backburner. These FFXIV Write posts are also of course on my Pillowfort, LynMars79.
Previous FFXIV Write Collections can be found in "Dreams of Light" (2018) and "Dreams of Shadows" (2019). 2017's responses are on Tumblr, though some choice responses have moved to various other threads on Ao3. I seem to write more each year, and Home's word count exceeds Shadows' even without the Extra Credits.
Stats: Word Counts are based on the original postings to Tumblr/Pillowfort. 26,250 words without the extra credits. 35,497 words with the extra credits. Shortest: #12 Tooth and Nail (361) Longest: #21 Foibles (2,412) “When Everything Changes” and “Sandstorm” are longer, but I’d been drafting them up for awhile.
It’s hard to pick favorites this year; I like how most of these turned out, and I have time and space in the Ao3 thread to alter them as needed.
Prompts and Responses on Tumblr:
1. Crux - Gaius trying not to be bothered. Sorrow of Werlyt spoilers. 2. Sway - Thancred & Aeryn watching dancing. Early ARR, pre-relationship. 3. Muster - Thancred & Aeryn the morning of Ala Mhigo’s liberation. 4. Clinch - Aeryn only learns to fish after battling Hades. Post ShB 5.0. 5. Matter of Fact - Iyna & C’oretta discuss changes to a Scion post ShB 5.3. 6. When Everything Changes - 1st Free Day, Zaine & Aeryn backstory. 7. Nonagenarian - Master Matoya, Y’mhitra, & Thancred’s post 5.3 look. 8. Clamor - Thancred & Aeryn, post-Praetorium celebrations, pre-relationship. 9. Lush - Dark Autumn takes Aeryn home for a rest in late Stormblood. 10. Avail - Thancred versus C’oretta being C’oretta. Post ShB 5.3. 11. Ultracrepidarian - Dark & Arenvald investigate a rumored Titan-slayer. 12. Tooth and Nail - Zaine as the Seventh Umbral Calamity unfolds. 13. Sandstorm - 2nd Free Day, Thancred & Aeryn pre-Ifrit, pre-relationship. 14. Part - Thancred, Minfilia, Ryne, and separations. Up thru ShB 5.3. 15. Ache - Aeryn regrets a reckless emotional act with Haurchefant. Early HW. 16. Lucubration - Thancred, Yda, & Lyse, Sharlayan school days. Pre-canon. 17. Fade - In a distant future, Ciuna remembers the Warriors of Darkness. 18. Panglossian - Two ancients in an alternate future. 19. Where the Heart is - The Scions’ hearts are scattered across two worlds. 20. The Parley - 3rd Free Day. Aeryn speaks with Varis. StB 4.5. 21. Foibles - Thancred helps clean Aeryn’s pack before she leaves for Doma. 22. Argy-Bargy - Literature is serious business. Thancred & Aeryn, ShB. 23. Shuffle - Aeryn, Dark, and C’oretta teach Iyna to play Triple Triad. 24. Beam - Aeryn has an evening conversation with Carvallain on the Misery. 25. Wish - A night of reading and cuddles for Thancred & Aeryn. ShB 5.3. 26. When Pigs Fly - Felina decides to not miss an opportunity with Urianger. 27. Realizations - 4th Free Day. Thancred & Y’shtola talk. StB 4.0. 28. Irenic - Ysayle and Estinien co-existing at Moghome. Mid-HW 3.0. 29. Paternal - X’rhun discovers a past truth Alberic wants to keep hidden. 30. Splinter - Azem returns home to see what, if anything, can be salvaged.
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