#FFxivWrite Results

[sea-wolf-coast-to-coast]

10,261 total entries were submitted in 2024!

This includes all entries that were submitted via the Google Form, including late entries (and excluding duplicate entries).

Which brings us to 60,917 total recorded entries since we began this challenge in 2017! And, we have 131 volunteer artists in 2024!! Which means that there are 131 prize-winners!

Please check you email to see if you've won a prize!

Winners have until October 30th to respond to their artists via email and claim their prize.

If the artist hasn't heard from their winner by October 30th then sadly that winner will forfeit their prize and I'll choose a different winner for that artist.

A breakdown of the stats are below the cut ~

Want to see all public entries? Here’s a link to the Master Spreadsheet. This omits entries that people requested to keep private between them and I.

Total Participation Year to Year:

Prompt Breakdown by Week:

Submissions by Platform:

About Prizes!

Winners were selected via a random raffle dice roll and span all online writing platforms, including Tumblr, Ao3, Google Docs, and others (like Twitter). This writing challenge is not a contest - no one’s work was being judged for length, skill, etc. The prizes are based on participation only! The more entries that you wrote and submitted within its 24-hour deadline, the higher your chance of winning a prize.

Again, please check your email (and backup email if you have one) to see if you've won!

Congrats to everyone who took the time to write even one entry during this challenge!

It's not easy, but you did it! You pushed yourself and began to break the ties of perfectionism in your creative writing process. Well done! 👏👏👏

See you next September for FFxivWrite2025!

[storms-path]

FFXIV Write 2024: Day 9 - Lend an Ear

This deep in the Noumenon, footsteps carried far. Even the gentle pattering of the mammet which had guided Stalwart down the winding corridors rang out through the hallways. Still, Stalwart found herself so engrossed in the musty tome she’d cracked open that she only noticed the familiar footsteps of one Y’shtola Rhul moments before she rounded the corner. No mammet guided her, Stalwart noted with a frown. Had she traced her way here through the residual aether? Either way, Stalwart was not particularly in the mood for company. Perhaps she could take this tome elsewhere and-

“Stalwart!” Y’shtola’s face split into a rare smile as she waved.

Stalwart forced a smile of her own. “Y’shtola. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Y’shtola hesitated, apparently lost for words. She glanced at the mammet, judging it safely out of earshot. “I won’t mince words.” A dark shadow passed over Y’shtola’s face. Her ears were flat against her head, her tail swishing slowly. She looked… afraid. Unusual indeed for one so composed. Just what was she about to say?

“I fear I have fallen in love with you.”

Ah. There it was. The conversation Stalwart had intended to avoid. She had realised, of course. It had been harder and harder to play off Y’shtola’s advances as anything but romantic overtures. But still, she’d hoped for a little more time. A little more preparation. A little more… “I see.” A cowardly response, but the best she could manage. She couldn’t find the words to describe the roiling, churning feeling in her gut.

Y’shtola was clearly not impressed, but she let the silence cut deeper and deeper until Stalwart finally broke it again. “I don’t know what to say. I’m sorry, I didn’t want to have this conversation at all, but…”

“Do you feel the same?” Y’shtola’s voice was calm, almost matter-of-fact. If it weren’t for the quiver. If it weren’t for the hammering of her heart. If it weren’t for a thousand other tremors and nerves and fears. She couldn’t see Stalwart’s face, only the impression of it, but her posture was that of a cornered beast. Without realising it, Y’shtola had backed Stalwart against one of the shelves. They were close now, so close.

“I…” Stalwart couldn’t look at Y’shtola, couldn’t bear the look on her face. Don’t make me do this. “Yes. But.” Say it. “We can’t. I can’t.”

Y’shtola knew it was coming, but she couldn’t do a thing about the floor falling out from under her heart. “I thought as much.” An effort of will kept her tone even and calm. A strong one, at that. “I understand. Thank you for being honest with me.” She stepped back, turned to leave. A hand on her wrist stopped her.

“Wait.” Stalwart didn’t know why she’d reached out. She didn’t know why she spoke. But she had. And the words spilled out. “I want to, truly I do! You’re kind, you’re intelligent beyond measure, you’re absolutely terrifying when you want to be. Who wouldn’t fall in love with such a woman? But I…”

Y’shtola smiled, pretending not to notice the quivering of Stalwart’s hand. “I understand, Stalwart. It’s alright. Thancred told me about your devotion to Haurchefant. He was a lucky man, to win your heart so.” Not that it didn’t rankle, to lose to a dead man, but-

“What? No. That’s not it.” Thancred? What did he know about any of this? “Yes, Haurchefant’s death hurts, more than I can put into words. But that’s not why I can’t do this!” Stalwart’s voice was rising higher with every word. Thankfully none could hear them, this far down. Except for a mammet bound to silence. “It’s you!”

Y’shtola wasn’t prepared for that. Confusion draped over her already whirling emotions. A heady and unpleasant mixture. “Me? What do you mean?”

Did she truly not understand? “How many times have you leapt into the jaws of death, ‘Shtola? How many times have I had to mourn you, only for you to re-appear as if nothing’s wrong? How many years have you burned off your life already, simply because you’re too proud to admit that you’ve been robbed of your sight? Have you given any, any consideration to how I feel? How much it hurts to have to keep losing you? How I’ve had to harden my heart against the very idea of loving you, just to spare myself the inevitable hurt when you don’t come back?” She was crying now. The dam of emotions had finally burst, drowning her in them. Forcing the words she’d held back for so long out of her. The anger. The fear. The sheer, absolute exhaustion of it all. Y’shtola was silent, clearly stunned. Good. Let her chew on that for a time, instead of coming up with another cutting remark.

“Hypocrite.”

A single word, cutting more than any snide comment. Fury rose in Stalwart, fists balling and shoulders tensing in a single moment.

Y’shtola wouldn’t be cowed by the larger woman. “Do you truly think I do not fear for you, whenever you and your companions ride off to face some existential threat?” Were she able to truly see, she’d find herself blinded by tears. But Stalwart’s form being taken aback by her words was as clear as it always was. “Every time, every time, I find myself praying to the Twelve that you return to us safely! And my heart prepares itself for the fact that you may not! Being able to finally face a Primal with you was more of a relief than I dare give words to! And less we forget, you rushed in to face oblivion with Urianger and I without a second thought in Ultima Thule!”

“Because I couldn’t bear to live without you!” The words were out before Stalwart could stop them. This time it was Y’shtola’s turn to be taken aback. “I knew that Arashi would need me, I knew that she would struggle to face Meteion alone, and I didn’t care! Because a world where I had to watch another person I loved with all my heart die wasn’t one I could stand to live in!”

Silence reigned for a spell, broken only by tears splashing against cold marble floor. Stalwart’s tome lay abandoned on the floor. The mammet was torn between its duty and breaking the icy quiet. Then, at last, Y’shtola took a step forward.

“We truly are a pair of fools, aren’t we?”

“Yes. We are.” Stalwart likewise stepped closer. “I… I don’t know if I can do this, ‘Shtola. I don’t want to hurt again.”

“But you will.” Y’sthola’s voice was as matter-of-fact as if she was discussing the weather. “I’m older than you, and burning my life away, as you say. One day, sooner or later, you will lose me.” She took another step forward. “Or I’ll lose you. I’m prepared to accept that, if it means we can try making something worthwhile out of our feelings.” Are you? She wasn’t brave enough to give voice to the words. Not yet.

Stalwart hesitated at the crossroads of her life. She had rushed into love with Haurchefant, let it envelop her, embrace her, blind her with its brilliant passion, and then rip out her heart without warning. She couldn’t do it again. But gods, she wanted to. So badly that it hurt. And then there were Haurchefant’s last sentiments, in the Lifestream. He had known. He had given her his blessing.

“Three rules.” Stalwart couldn’t stop the shake in her voice. “Firstly, you promise me that you don’t throw yourself into the Lifestream the moment things look dire. Second,” she jabbed a finger at Y’shtola to stress the point, “You let yourself be vulnerable and drop your aethersight every once in a while.”

“Agreed,” said Y’shtola without even waiting to hear the third rule. It was the most certain she’d felt in years.

“And thirdly,” Stalwart continued as if she hadn’t heard Y’shtola’s all-too-ready agreement. “Thirdly… Don’t call me Stalwart. That name… isn’t really mine, not any more.” It was time to let go of the childhood hero that had guided a young Steely Hart towards self-discovery. “Only one other person has heard this name before you. I told him as he lay dying. My name, the name I’ve so badly wanted to say…” She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t say it. The moment she tried, she leapt back to the Vault, to the walkway, to Haurchefant’s cold, cold body. It was a mistake, all of it, she should never have-

A warm hand took hers. Y’shtola looked at her with a warm, soft smile. “I’ll wait, if you need me to. Take your time.”

A gentle hand rested on her shoulder, just for a moment. A breath of hot chocolate, perfectly heated, tickled her nose. A ghost of a smile danced in front of her.

“Tender Star.” She breathed it, more than said it, finally letting the name out. “That’s my name. Call me by that.” Y’shtola was closer than before now, but Tender didn’t want to run any more. Without really thinking about it, she looped an arm around Y’shtola’s waist, suddenly hungry for her warmth. Y’shtola stretched up to reach Tender’s lips. Their first kiss was witnessed only by a mammet, currently awakening to a great deal of things it would later be able to describe as “emotions.”

After an eternity, Y’shtola pulled away. Her smile was starlight, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “Tender Star,” she whispered, and all was right with the world.

[neoma-eltanin]

Prompt #11: Once Bitten, Twice Shy

For FFXIVWrite2023 Character: Erjon Sjadarwesfv Warnings: None

Love.

He knew what that word meant. An intense feeling or deep affection, for something or someone. He had experienced it himself. That binding, gripping, tearing and overwhelming sensation of your heart swelling and aching and oh it was a most wonderful and terrible thing. A pleasure, a pain that shifted between being the only thing he wished to ever feel and the thing that tortured him more than any other.

For a moment he felt like he was in heaven, even as his feet stood firmly in the ashes of a hellscape. The smell of death so distant it might as well be the scent of a meadow. Sapphires so brilliant, so perfect he might cry for how blessed he was that they even offered to meet his pallid gaze. Warm locks of red, soft like the feathers of a swan for his weary hands to feel. So soft that he forgot the cold, hard metal that ever grazed his fingertips.

In this nightmare he would endure. He had hope. He had love. He wanted to protect it, hold it close and never let go.

And suddenly, everything was gone.

He screamed. He wailed. He begged. The meadow, the sapphires, the feathers. Come back. Come back.

His hands reached for nothing. His voice received no answer.

Never again. Never again would he dare hold on to what so easily was ripped away from his heart, what so easily crumbled into dust in the wind. He would seal it inside a shell, hard and unyielding and out of reach.

Love.

He knew what that word meant, once. He knew what it meant to lose it. The feeling of it withering in your arms and the warmth leaving your soul in the bitter, cold dark.

He lost it. And it never returned.

He would make sure of it.

[feelingkoii]

I had the honour of drawing a FFXIVWrite Prize piece, and I'm super proud of how it came out! I don't often do black or white and I experimented a bit but I'm happy with the result!!

@sea-wolf-coast-to-coast

[soulshards]

FFXIVWRITE 2024, PROMPT #8: SPONTANEOUS (Free Day) tw: none • words: 797

performed or occurring as a result of a sudden impulse or inclination

It wasn’t quite nighttime - not yet. The sun hung low in brightly coloured sky, brilliant hues of reds and yellows spilling out across the horizon as in a few hours, it would say it’s farewell. But it was still daytime, and Bites had a rather impulsive need to go fishing. And they did not want to fish alone.

They walked lazily, long, spiny tail swaying from side to side, as in one hand they carried a bait box, and the other, two fishing rods.

Dark eyes peered at the Inn before them, messy, fluffy hair getting a shuffle as Bites dipped their head to the side. Their friend was staying here, that they were sure of. And though the sun had yet to set, they were sure they wouldn’t mind getting up a little early in order to spend some time together.

Their hand raised to the door, pushing it open as they passed to the counter in order to double-check the room number in which their friend was resting. Once confirmed, they continued on, up some stairs, and a right, before they came before the dark oak door. Locked.

Bites leaned to the side, long arms resting the bait box on the floor, as a curved nail was raised up, and inserted into the lock. After some wiggling around, they felt the soft click of the mechanism before pressing on the handle to open the door fully. They wouldn’t mind.

Probably.

A grin found their lips as the door swung open, the sleeping form of their friend draped over the bed; dark scales with speckles of red that covered so much pale skin, wrapping around his back like a blanket, tousled white hair standing up in random points from his sleep. The curtains were drawn, no light in the room save for that which spilled out from the now open door.

Bites inhaled deeply, as purposefully heavy footsteps brought them over to the bed. They was usually low energy, a little more placid and calm - but sometimes, on occasion, they would let out this more playful side in the company of friends. “Shuunnbaaaiii!” They were not shouting, but they were loud. Loud enough to almost rouse the man from his sleep.

“Get up! I want to go fishin’!” The base of the fishing rods were raised up, coming to jab him lightly in the side. A large hand raised, swiping at the obnoxious intrusion upon his slumber with little grace or any real effort and a faint grumble was heard by forward facing horns. “C’mooon. There’s still some daylight left!”

“I’m sleeping, Bites… go away…” another grumble, more coherent, as the man shuffled on the bed to turn away from Bites and the prodding fishing rods.

The fishing rods were placed to the side, resting against the bedside table - the bait box still lingered by the slightly open door - and the Xaela came to pull on Shunbai’s arm in order to roll him over. It took a bit of effort, they were strong. But this man was large.

“...pleeeaase, Shunbai… Enkh won’t go fishing with me! And Sebit is busy! Don’t make me go sit all on my own…” The pleading was turned up, just a little. In truth Bites would not mind fishing on their own, but the nocturnal habits of Shunbai means it had been a few suns since they last hung out. And that would simply not stand.

Bites would lean against the bed, their grin visible, flashing fangs that had dug into this man's flesh on more than one occasion (out of affection… or frustration). Those same fangs which were now poised by his arm, an eyebrow raised up, letting out a soft ‘Aah’ as if they were about to chomp down upon his scaled shoulder - it was one way of waking someone up. They were nicknamed Bites for a reason.

Squinting eyes glared at Bites now, lips pulled back over fangs as he gave another grumble.

“....fine.”

Bites jumped back up to stand with a wiggle of their tail, fluffy hair bobbing as fangs were hidden behind a big smile. They would never bite their friend to wake them up, no. That’s just cruel.

“Yes! Get changed! C’mon! I brought you a rod, whoever catches the most fish doesn’t have to cook them!”

Feet scampered to scoop up the fishing rods and head back towards the door, grabbing the bait box. They would give him some privacy, at least, in getting up and changed. Some.

Bites would appear back around the door on occasion to make sure Shunbai was actually getting up and making an effort to get changed, before slinking back around the doorframe once they were satisfied he was moving.

They’d make the early ‘morning’ up to him.

Probably

ft. Shunbai @shadesofblades prompt picked by coffee also!

[alicesadventuresinffxiv]

What are the most popular F/F Final Fantasy XIV ships?

(*on AO3, as of October 13, 2024)

I like writing femslash, so while I was doing the FFxivWrite challenge, I had the thought: wouldn’t it be fun to try writing each of the top 10 most popular FFXIV F/F ships? 

I figured it would be a good way for me to learn to write characters I wasn’t used to, plus hopefully it would mean some of the well-liked but rarely-written pairings would get more fic for them!

But then I ran head-first into the question: what are those F/F ships? I hit some interesting challenges attempting to figure that out, so here’s a post about how I reached my answer!

.

First things first: I’m using AO3 stats for this analysis, entirely because AO3 has the most robust searching and filtering tools. Trying to wrangle this kind of analysis on tumblr or twitter would be a nightmare, as much as I’d love to know the answer on those sites!

Second, let’s quickly double check my assumption that F/F ships are indeed rarepairs in this fandom.

Yep, if you’re at all familiar with @centrumlumina's work on AO3 stats (which this analysis is somewhat inspired by ^^;), this is exactly in line with general fandom trends! For reasons that I understand intellectually but not in my heart, F/F fics tend to hover at around 6% of AO3 output overall.

Interestingly, this small slice of femslash makes FFXIV more similar to large, broad fandoms like the MCU or MHA (pictured above), and less similar to other online multiplayer videogame fandoms (pictured below). You might think that given its friendly reputation, FFXIV would attract more women and/or LGBTQ+ players and therefore have a higher proportion of femslash. But nope!

(Admittedly, pitting FFXIV against the fandom that contains Arcane feels a little unfair... :P)

.

So alright, with that out of the way, let’s start by doing the obvious thing. Hey AO3, what are the top 10 relationship tags when searching FFXIV on the F/F category?

[Note: Since the Warrior of Light is typically written as the author’s original character - especially in cases with multiple WoLs - I am combining the WoL/WoL and WoL/OC tags together.]

If you’ve been in FFXIV spaces for a while, you probably already guessed the #1 result! But as someone relatively new to the fandom, I was actually quite surprised. None of my previous fandoms had nearly this much focus on original characters!

Indeed, WoL/NPC ships and OC/ OC ships absolutely dwarf the numbers for any NPC/NPC ships, with the exception of the three largest M/M pairings (Aymeric/Estinien, Emet-Selch/Hythlodaeus, and Thancred/Urianger). Also, given that not everyone tags their OCs using either of the WoL or OC tags (ack! please use tags, your works get lost otherwise!)… you can always expect results for OCs to be an undercount. Woah!

Anyway, since WoL ships are so huge, I decided it made the most sense to give them their own list:

Another thing that surprised me is that male characters in FFXIV are so many times more popular than female characters that genderbent M/M pairings will show up in these F/F lists.

And… I wasn’t quite sure how to count those ships in my tallies.

On the one hand, genderbending (not to mention trans headcanoning-ing!) characters is a fun and often subversive way to approach popular ships. More power to everyone doing it!

On the other hand, part of the underlying motivation for my own writing goal was that I wanted to write pairings that fandom somewhat overlooks. 

As such, I went with a compromise: I’m including pairings with canonically male characters in my graphs (those are the pink bars), but I kept the lists going until I reached 10 pairings involving characters who are portrayed as women in the source material.

(There were no nonbinary FFXIV characters which placed on any of my lists, sadly. Apologies to Feo Ul, who is still the loveliest of branches in my heart.)

Other than that caveat, the results here aren’t too far off from my own guesses. Anecdotally, I’d seen that a lot of WoLs are self-inserts for their players, so it makes sense that typical WoL ships are with NPCs that are generally considered to be attractive by the fanbase. Correspondingly, the Reader/Character fics that are somewhat common in other fandoms don’t even rank on these lists, which might suggest WoL/NPC ships are largely fulfilling that niche.

(Something something, FFXIV is a dating sim with combat, in this essay I will…. :P)

.

Anyway, WoL ships are nice, but what I actually wanted to write were NPC/NPC ships. So let’s add a bunch more excludes to the filtering… and…

Hm. That's interesting. There's a bunch of F/F ships that I know I’ve seen fic and art for that are missing from this list!

Out of curiosity, I did a few searches specifically on these missing pairings, in case they were so rarely tagged as purely F/F (or so commonly shipped alongside a WoL ship) that trying to find them via excludes didn’t work. These were:

Alisaie/Tesleen (20 total, 13 tagged F/F)

Krile/Tataru (14 total, 7 tagged F/F)

Ysayle/Heustienne (5 total, 5 tagged F/F)

Wuk Lamat/Sphene (4 total, 4 tagged as F/F)

[Note: The first number is what I used during the writing challenge last month… which is how I ended up putting Krile/Tataru over Lucia/Hilda. Oops! But the second number is more in line with the rest of the analysis here, so I will use that going forward.]

Seems my expectations were flat-out incorrect! Of these four, only Alisaie/Tesleen makes the top ten. Meanwhile Wuk Lamat/Sphene is a pairing consisting of very new characters... so perhaps it will grow over time!

Right then, let's add Alisaie/Tesleen in, and while we're at it, let's run direct searches on all the potential candidates rather than using excludes to ensure no fics are getting needlessly thrown out.

With those adjustments in place... I reached my final top ten!

Not bad! Predictably, pairings that get more focus in canon (Gaia/Ryne and Sadu/Cirina) tend to place high, as do pairings involving Y’shtola (since she’s a very popular character overall). 

As a Lyse-enjoyer, I found Lyse getting 3/10 spots on the list to be pretty funny, as was the heavy presence of Stormblood characters! Apparently I’m not the only one who thought StB was a good expansion for lesbians. :D

There are also a few pairings here that I hadn’t ever considered before doing this analysis. But hey, that was the point of making the list! And trying to figure out the dynamics for pairings I didn’t usually ship did indeed turn out to be a fun writing exercise last month.

So what do you all think, tumblr? Did the results surprise you like they did me? Or did I overlook a pairing that really deserved to be included?

In any case, I hope you enjoyed reading this analysis!

[shroudcryptid]

FFXIVWrite Day 27- Memory

They track the white-robed Ascian north, through the winding old mining tunnels, and out into the smog-drenched valley. Their nose begins to runs and their eyes burn, but still they press on. This is little, after all, compared to the smoke and fire of the Praetorium- or even Carteneau. 

They slow for a moment, hearing phantom screams, and then take a breath- and immediately regret it, coughing at the smell of fouled eggs. It hadn’t been a problem last time, but… Ah. Perhaps they should have listened more to the Chirurgeon, about how their airways were not yet fully healed from said smoke and fire.  

Rough rock meets their hand, and then their arm, as they lean heavily against it, chest contracting in wheezes. This… this was not the time to falter, they tell themself. Their prey lies just ahead, and the vicinity of an Ascian is no place to show vulnerability…. Hand trembling, they fumble for their pocket, where a soul stone of soft white whispers to them. 

A hand companionably pats them on the back, and they startle, although all it does is sent them further into shallow gasps, dropping to one knee this time. Their breath won’t fill their chest, won’t bring relief, and a seed of animal panic begins to sprout. 

In the state they’re in, they don’t register the hand returning, resting between their shoulder blades. What does grab them, though, is the cooling, shady stream of aether trickling from it, flowing through their chest and- 

The next breath they gasp in is deep, and- they can breathe. 

Starving, desperate, they pant heavily. It’s not long before another cough takes them- this time, resulting in an expulsion of mucous, dark with old blood. 

The healing continues throughout, and at last the heaving of their chest slows, calms, along with the pounding of their heart. 

They groan softly, and shift to stand, accepting the hand that pulls them upwards. And then, they realize the texture of metal claws interlaced with their fingers. silky gloves against their palm. 

It’s most definitely amusement, that smirk beneath the Ascian’s mask. The flavor of amusement that the rich, the removed from daily need would have, as they watched the desperate club each other with metal and wood upon the bloodsands. 

Hissing roughly, they yank their hand back, in their haste catching their skin upon sharp edges, leaving streaks of blood as with the other hand, they lash out. Their strike wobbles through thin air as the form twists and vanishes, equally rippling back into the world a bare malm away. 

The Ascian is clearly enjoying itself, they note as they wobble and stumble, having expected a fleshlike resistance, as with Lahabrea or his lesser peons. A white robed sleeve is raised to its mouth in a simulation of polite laugh muffling. It’s a far cry from the retaliation against Minfilia earlier. 

“Come, now.” It says, congenially. “Ah- perhaps you would like another hand, Warrior of Light?” 

Effective the Ascian’s healing may have been, but they’re already feeling the lack of the steadying coolness, the smog burning their throat and chest. . 

With effort, and the relentless pounding in their head only growing, they gather their feet under them, and lunge again. They catch the Ascian midsentence, and their swipe that would have bisected an ashkin- it doesn’t fully connect, but instead of empty air- it’s like running a hand through water. If water was dark, dark, like a new moon night.

They crash into the rocky wall shoulder-first, the leather pads taking most of the force, but twinges of recoil pain still jolting through them. Their hand comes up to slap at the wall, to brace for balance, and to their distant surprise, the wall itself hurts, as their hand leaves bloody streaks. 

And, as if the world itself were conspiring against them, that’s when their vision ripples, in what they now know to be the echo. The ringing in their ears spikes, and then quiets as the vision takes them.

Or, at least, the vision is what they expect. What they get is- static. Static, static, stabbing their eyes, crackling in their ears. Blurred, faded shapes when they concentrate, when they reach- something deep, dark beyond belief, immense beyond understanding. Hungering, wanting to hold everything safe within itself. Safe from the fire- and oh, they see that. The fire, the flames eating away at the most beautiful of cities, just as the monsters ate at the screaming people in its streets. 

There’s a man there, pale robes shining with wretched firelight, one splash of shadowed moonlight in a room full of desperate shadows. Splotches of red on their masks, and as they try to focus the blurry vision, to see, the pale one reaches up and, with both hands, takes off his mask. Revealing- they can’t see details. Not the color of his hair, his eyes, nor his skin. 

What they can see is that it’s a he, a young man. And that firm resolve is writ in every ilm of his face.

The vision blurs at the edges, before they’re thrown from it. They come back to themselves, the wretchedness of their chest and aching lungs, and an odd trickle of wet at their nose. Oh, and the Ascian kneeling over them. 

Over them? Oh. Yes. They’re on the ground. And the Ascian is there. Woozily, they blink up at what they’d now call a him. 

“-strong is your gift, I wonder.” He’s saying. “Just what did you see, for the cost to be so high....”  With the back of a folded talon, he reaches down, draws it through the wetness now dripping over their lips. For a moment, their woozy eyes slip through focus, and they see how it comes away red.

They still lurch forward and, with open jaw, catch and crunch down upon where the meat of a hand should be. 

For a moment, or an eternity- one of those, either of those. There’s stillness. And then a distant, yet genuine laugh. 

“Very well. If you volunteer.” The words are more wobbly than before, as if their echo has grown tired, strained itself. And then, the mate to the hand between their teeth comes up to their forehead. Aether pulses from it, catches them in a twisting snare they’re in no shape to resist. And then peacefully, gently, pulls them down into sleep. 

[steak-n-popotoes]

FFxivWrite '24 - 5

"You really drew all these yourself, kupo?"

Beef nodded. The top of his head barely peeked above the sketchbook he held up for Kupopo's perusal.

"Well, your landscapes are pretty good, and the flowers are even better - they should make for some powerful pictomancy!" the moogle exclaimed, wings fluttering and pom bouncing. "We could go over elemental pigments... but the basics are boring, kupo. Why don't we see how you fare with some other subjects, instead?"

The two relocated to their local striking dummy in order to practice a few tricks of the pictomancer's trade.

"You know kupo, I only had the one job crystal to give away anyway, so if you think about it, it's actually a bit of a blessing that you were the only adventurer interested in being my student."

Beef's only response was to stare at the moogle in silence.

"I can see you're eager to learn, so let's get started, kupo. How about we try weapons?"

After a few minutes of watching Beef stare at his beginner's palette, Kupopo thought it best to offer some more guidance. "It doesn't have to be perfect, kupo, just come up with something you can pound a few poms with."

The suggestion seemed to help somehow, as Beef snapped his fingers and began to paint, stroke by stroke. Once it had taken shape, he raised the finished piece aloft - a feat that would never have been possible were it truly a weapon forged in iron.

"A hammer, kupo? Kind of silly at that size, don't you think?"

"Dwarven decking."

"I have no idea what that means, kupo." Kupopo shrugged. "But I guess it's true what they say: when you have a kupo nut, all of your tools start to look like hammers, kupo!"

Beef didn't think he had heard that one before.

"How about we switch tactics, kupo? You could really fill any role on the battlefield, if you think about it. A pictomancer is only limited by their imagination, after all! You could draft up a shield, or even cure pain with... paint, kupo!"

Beef's face scrunched up in response. "Messy."

"Look, that's up to you and how you imagine it, kupo."

For a while Beef tried to conceptualize a depiction of healing, but the line that distinguished between these two uses of magic lay somewhere outside of his grasp. To his untrained eye, it was all just magic.

"Well, you passed the job interview, so I'm sure you've got imagination to spare, kupo." said the moogle. "If you can't visualize how casting a healing spell would look, why don't you try sketching a healer that will do it for you?"

Beef looked to Kupopo, then his brush, and then back again. After another dose of erratic encouragement from his moogle mentor, he gave his best attempt at painting L'kozu.

The resulting evocation defied all description.

"THE HAMMER, KUPO! GET THE HAMMER!"

In a panic, Beef hurriedly sketched up another hammer and scrambled to grip its handle.

"STAMP IT OUT QUICK, KUPO!!"

In a whirlwind of color and magic, he rapidly and repeatedly pounded the dissatisfactory piece until it was rendered across the V&C garden as little more than a painterly pulp.

After a few moments for the two to catch their breath, Kupopo fluttered past Gale to speak a little too close into Beef's face. "I changed my mind, kupo. Maybe we should work through the basics after all... then we'll consider building toward a living muse."

[agent-yolk-writes]

FFXIVWrite (Day 25) - Perpetuity

this was done as a result of it coming out that Close the Distance was in Ardbert's perspective and I was a mess

Chapter Text

Ardbert watches. 

He watches the good, the bad, and the mundane. 

He knows his beloved Warrior cannot hear him anymore, but he carries on like normal. 

His soul is bound to her forevermore, only parting once she returns to the stream proper. She did give him quite a scare at Ultima Thule. He was afraid that their journey together would be cut off so soon right as it began. 

But true to her nature, she is just too stubborn to die. 

As she explored Eorzea once more, he could make out similarities to what he vaguely remembers on the First. It’s a fascinating experience to witness firsthand, even more so when Riida had to travel to yet another shard devoid of light. Faces new and old greeting her with every step of the way. Experiences new to him that’s probably commonplace for someone like her. 

He even found himself trying to figure out the mystery happening in Thavnair when they had to grab the soul of that…rather odd fellow who thought he was a Lightwarden on the First. Its a miracle he didn't actually get attacked by one in the first place (but it made him wonder how long he's been like this)

If this is what eternity will be, Ardbert wouldn’t mind it one bit. 

[tsupertsundere]

FFXIVWRITES 2024 - Day 1 - STEER Incomplete ---- 742 words ----- Notes: DID NOT EXPECT TO POST THESE NOW but the submission works differently than I thought it would.

editor's notes: the first day is just proving that I can make something like this exist.

Angeline Carax's focus had a weight of its own sometimes. That was according to the family mythology - so heavy that it would slip out of her head and roll onto whatever had caught it, drawn up and absorbed like honey on the tongue. "I'd like to savor it just as much," Angeline said when she was finally able to, which was far too late for it to have mattered, "but the connection seems made to be broken."

Many things are, her mother Wisteria commented drolly. The resulting argument was as tedious as it had been familiar, a long time ago. Distant now, very nearly sweetly so.

It made her lip twitch into a light smile, even as that weighty focus now had caught and spread across the expanse that unrolled before her - Shaaloani, Tural. She had just traced a path through it to reach this vantage point, one she could fancy she could still trace, and her steed's sides huffed in regular rhythm beneath her as Cinnamon caught his breath after the invigorating climb.

Taking in the fabric of each plain, mesa, prarie, meadow, scrubland, wash - if she could go into it deeply enough, she'd be satisfied. As it stood, just staring would have to suffice, though even that at the wrong moment could prove to be costly.

Cinnamon's ears flicked up first before a deep rumbling made the clasps on the saddle and its attached bags clink. With a little gasp Angeline came to, her fluffy curls bouncing beneath her hat as she shook herself back to herself. The rumbling had grown so intense stones around them leapt like tossed coins and Cinnamon shifted nervously, whinnying.

At once, Angeline tightened her thighs around him and clicked her tongue, that heavy focus falling together in a single point with the weight of a black hole. It swept in a ray at the rocky outcropping, and at her whistle she rocked forward as the same time Cinnamon surged. For an instant an impossibility of horse and rider on uneven land flipped the stomach, but with the flexing and twisting of his supple muscles beneath his skin Cinnamon spilled down the scrub ridge As sure-footed as if he had magnetized horseshoes.

The ridges mellowed out quickly, and the slow build up of gravity gathered exponentially like a bowling ball dropped into a halfpipe - Angeline stood in her stirrups to crane her head as finally she could get a glimpse of a huge dust cloud sweeping in off to her right. /Rrhoneeks?/ she thought furrow-browed - deeper still in the distance small figures were running and waving their arms, only one other similarly mounted and, as was easy to presume by the wail unfurling from them like a banner across the plains, out of their depth.

A broad grin spread across Angeline's face beneath the flopping brim of her hat, eyes devilishly shadowed, and she dropped flat across Cinnamon's back as she kicked him up into a full gallop and set them both on a comet-like arc toward the herd.

The miqo'te on the [horse] slowed its gallop as she caught and lost her breath - she lifted her hat and wiped her brow with her forearm, leaving it resting there as she squinted in surprised relief as the rhoneek herd funneled and then stretched out along the comet's trail. With a sharp HUT she replaced her hat and kicked off to hold up the other side.

The thundering of the rhoneek's hooves rattled toward their home pasture - replaced by the young cowpoke's fervent thanks, and to please not mention this overmuch, especially when her uncle was in earshot. "Mention how well you ride? Now why wouldn't I share that?" was all Angeline said in reply with a conspiratorial grin. "These things happen. Nothing days."

"Nothing happening," the girl replied, returning a fanged one of her own.

Angeline's final assessment: "Yes. You'll be just fine."

The sun was setting as Angeline trotted Cinnamon back to town, passing another miqo'te perched - or rather poured - across a fence, cheeks resting on both fists.

When she approached, the weight of her focus made his tail flick. "Need any help there, sir? You're looking mighty flushed," Angeline affected in a long drawl, her giggles disrupting her good ol' college try at the local accent. His look of astonished delight made the attempt more than successful.

"Wh- why - I - well - " he was laughing too hard and quickly abandoned his own attempt at a high coquettish reply

[theimperialnuisance]

FFXIVWrite Day 11: Surrogate

Characters: N’Noah Wiloh and Kien Eilath Word count: 729 Timeline: Set far in the future, no particular expansion in mind Warnings: None Notes: Is there any indication that something like surrogacy is a thing in this world like we have in irl with modern technology? No idea. But this was the first thing that popped into my mind and I ran with it. Plus I’ve been toying with this idea in Kien’s story eventually so glad I finally have a chance to get it out on paper. Enjoy~

The idea of being a mother to her own children was never something N’noah considered. Sure, she enjoyed being around children or taking care of Tokki or Blaise’s kids when they needed someone to watch them but, she always did so with the happiness of knowing she would return home to Sicard and not have to deal with a child yelling for no reason or pulling on her tail for fun. She wasn’t even sure if she was built to be a mother, mainly because she never had a good example to go off of–her mother being too ill to show her what it took to be a mother–if that was something that could even be taught. 

She would sometimes wonder, however, what it would be like to be a mother, or at least, go through the motions of it all without having the permanent result of parenthood–she knew she wasn’t ready for that–but maybe if she could somehow go through the process first it could help her make up her mind. But…that was something that was merely a dream and besides, she was happy enough to continue traveling the seas with just her lover by her side. 

But then–strangely enough–that dream would become a reality. 

She hadn’t known what to expect when Kien wrote to her, asking if he and G’raha could meet with her for lunch. He didn’t specify what he wanted to talk about–only that he had an important question and it was best to be asked in person. Never being one to turn down food and good company, Noah met with Kien and G’raha at the Last Stand one sunny afternoon. 

After lunch was finished, the three of them sat and chatted the afternoon away until finally, as the sun began its descent into the horizon, Kien’s expression turned nervous and he began to fidget until G’raha calmly placed his hand atop his and nodded encouragingly. Kien sucked in a breath and asked the question that brought them together.

The initial request catches Noah by surprise, her breath catching in her throat. She took a moment to gather her thoughts, the tension palpable at the table as an array of emotions flickered across her face. She must’ve made her initial shock plain because suddenly Kien’s cheeks turn a shade of pink and he’s frantically waving his hands in front of his chest, a look of embarrassment written all over his face. “You don’t have to say yes if you don’t want to do it,” he said hastily. “I’m sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable.” 

Noah blinked at him, her eyebrows raising in confusion before a small played across her face and her eyes softened. “Kien, I’d be honored.” She replied sincerely. 

Kien, mid-babble in his apology, froze and blinked at her. “You-You would?” 

G’raha’s ears twitched forward in his surprise. “Are you certain? You’re not saying that because you feel pressured, are you?” 

Noah’s smile widened with a giggle as she reached her hands across the table to gently take Kien and G’raha’s hands in her own. “I’m not sure if I ever want children of my own at the moment but what I do know for certain is that I want to be Eorzea’s coolest aunt to a baby Eilath and if that means being your surrogate to make that happen, then I’d be honored.” 

Kien and G’raha took a moment to process Noah’s words before they looked at each other with wide smiles and laughs of relief and joy. Kien turned back to Noah with tears in his eyes, his grin infectious. “Noah–this means so much to me–to both of us,” He looked back at G’raha who was still at a loss for words but was smiling and nodding all the same. 

“And it means the world to me that you asked me, thank you,” Noah smiled back, feeling her heart flutter in excitement and anticipation. She hadn’t expected this to ever happen–the fact that her strange dream of going through the motion of motherhood without the actual child at the end–was coming true. The journey ahead was sure to be full of surprises but she was honestly happy to help her best friend start a family of his own. 

And maybe, after all was said and done, she’d learn if she wanted to be a mother to her own children someday. 

[sea-wolf-coast-to-coast]

7,935 total entries were submitted in 2023!

This includes all entries that were submitted via the Google Form, including late entries (and excluding duplicate entries).

Which brings us to 50,656 total recorded entries since we began this challenge in 2017! 

And, we had 109 volunteer artists in 2023!! Which means that there are 109 prize-winners!

A breakdown of the stats + announcement of the Participation Prize winners are below the cut ~

Want to see all public entries? Here’s a link to the Master Spreadsheet. This omits entries that people requested to keep private between them and I.

There's a lot to be gleaned from the data this year. Firstly, this is the first year where we see a real dip in participation, numbers dropping to the pre-2020 range. There are a couple of probable causes for this dip: this year, I chose, a) not to promote the challenge in any discords, b) not to repost any prompts to twitter, and c) not to post reminders throughout the challenge for folks to submit their links.

I was curious to know how much my own direct participation effects the challenge these days, and the numbers seem to point to "quite a bit!" So, that's good to know.

Secondly, we have finally approached the "data visualization salad" limit in which there are enough data points to confuse the visualization of the data overall, rendering them a little tough to understand at first glance. So, next year will probably see some fine-tuning of the data so that it's easier to digest.

Now, onto the good stuff!

Total Participation Year to Year:

Prompt Participation by Year:

NOTE: The big dips are Make-up / Extra Credit Days. Lots of folks choose to take a break over writing Extra Credit. Legit!

Prompt Breakdown by Week:

Submissions by Day:

NOTE: Day 7 was the day before the 24-hour deadline went into effect. Hence, the big ol’ spike.

Submissions by Platform:

Participation Prize Winners

Winners were selected via a random raffle dice roll made by Moen and span all online writing platforms, including Tumblr, Ao3, Google Docs, and others (like Twitter). This writing challenge is not a contest - no one’s work was being judged for length, skill, etc. The prizes are based on participation only! The more entries that you wrote and submitted within its 24-hour deadline, the higher your chance of winning a prize.

Prizes are a simple black & white portrait of the winner’s character. Most are shoulder up but the artists are free to take liberties if they’d like. Prizes are not commissioned work, so ultimately it’s the artist’s choice for what they’d like to do for the piece. Some artists (not all) accept commissions and might be open to colorizing a prize piece, after it’s been posted, at their normal rates.

Due to recent changes in Discord's username format, this year (and this year only) all winners will be notified by yours truly (MoenMoen) via a friend request and message in Discord. Next year I'll be teaming up with some folks to find a better, more streamlined process for informing and connecting winners with their volunteer artist.

So, keep an eye out for me in your Discord friend requests/inbox over the next week or so (it will take me a minute to get to everyone):

As always, there are a few winners whose artists may need to drop out for personal reasons, and that’s ok! In those cases, the winners will be carried over into 2024′s pool of winners where another artist will pick up their prize and complete it.

Congrats to all 109 winners, and I'll see you in September 2024 when we do it all again!

[worldoshaking]

FFXIVWrite Day 9: Lend an Ear

The day’s bustling was done, and naught left to do but wait. Alainaux had had half a mind not to stay, but he had laboured long to set the fireworks in motion, and he could not deny a certain curiosity to see the results.

It was strange company Alainaux found himself in, but he was certain the party of the second part found it still stranger. Undoubtedly, passersby would think them a odd duo in their ill-matched raiment, neither belonging to Limsa Lominsa or to its port. They didn’t know the half of it.

The Wandering Minstrel was eyeing Alainaux with the peculiar expression the latter had come to expect. ”’Twas good of you to lend the Lominsans your ear,” he said, with an ingenuous smile that Alainaux distrusted. “This will be a Rising to remember.”

Alainaux made him a polite nod. “’Twas the least a stranger like me could do.”

“Do you call yourself a stranger?” said the minstrel, with an odd little laugh. “You have been here before, have you not?”

”Not in such circumstances as would alter that appellation,” said Alainaux. It was no falsehood. Though he had been here a dozen times, he would always be a stranger to this wind-blown city, nor would he have it otherwise.

His meetings with the minstrel through the years had been fortuitous and abrupt, fraught with possibilities that were rather too interesting. ‘Twas certain that the minstrel of the present day did not recollect the past, but all the same he had a nose for momentous happenings, and an unerring instinct for identifying the perpetrator of deeds Alainaux had no wish to claim. The latter had been inclined to flight at first, but he had grown resigned to the frequency of their meetings. The minstrel was as impossible to avoid as the weather, and Alainaux’s apprehensions had been relieved by his evident ignorance of the past.

But the minstrel was looking at him with an alarming familiarity; the product, perhaps, of their contemporary meetings.

“None of us are truly strangers to the Calamity, are we? We carry the memory of it with us in every moment, and it is a memory that unites us. Even those we do not remember—” He paused, with a glance at Alainaux, but Alainaux gave him no encouragement, so the minstrel went on. “This celebration is for the things we do not remember, as much as the things we do.”

“There is small joy in such a celebration,” said Alainaux. He had no desire to prolong the conversation. “People have plenty to be grieving in extant recollection.”

“And yet the destruction of the Calamity compassed so much more.”

“You speak as though you have griefs of your own.”

The minstrel smiled ruefully. ”Would that I did. When I was younger, I was overfond of the sound of my own lyre, and I missed many an opportunity to listen instead. I wish I had paid more mind to the world around me; to so much that is now lost, both stories and songs.” The minstrel gazed out to sea. The sky was beginning to darken; it would be time for the fireworks soon. ”The heroes of that world deserved to be heard; to have a song made of their deeds, that would ring across the world.”

”You would have forgotten,” said Alainaux drily.

The minstrel laughed. ”Likely I would, but I should like to have heard them, all the same. Songs have a way of living on, even when they’re forgotten.”

The minstrel was not so eager now to share his music; he did not often play to crowds, or seek to spread the music that he made. Before Carteneau, he had come to Alainaux with great eagerness, longing to talk and be listened to, to have his songs heard. He had found scant enthusiasm among those he approached; there was quite enough unease about, and no-one had the stomach for his talk of comings and calamities. Alainaux had not been welcoming either, but the minstrel had sought out his company with some tenacity, and he had grown accustomed to his meetings with him. After their first meeting, he had not seemed so eager to press his songs upon Alainaux’s ear; he had found plenty else to talk about, plenty of other diversions in his company.

Likely he had now forgotten the songs he had pressed upon his hearers then.

”Those the songs tell of are not so happily situated,” said Alainaux. ”And this world has its own songs.”

“Indeed,” said the minstrel, ”and its heroes. Wouldn’t you say the Warrior of Light deserves a song of their own?”

“Undoubtedly,” said Alainaux. “But they are not here.”

“A great pity,” said the minstrel, with another odd smile. ”One might say their presence would be fitting.”

Alainaux paid him no mind. Whatever the minstrel might insinuate, he was not the Warrior of Light; he was a traveller who had happened to be passing for some momentous events, circumstances that one of his powers could not well leave be. He was not this world’s hero, by temperament or inclination.

He did not remember Carteneau, though the memories came to him sometimes in flashes: the faces of the others, altered beyond recognition by terror. His own hand slipping from the cliff’s edge, as the rocks exploded around him. The ruin of the world, in a flash of light.

The sound of Hydaelyn’s voice, too late, in a paean of grief that split the sky.

There was a strange irony to his presence here, at this celebration for the dead, this symbol of hope to the living: he was one of those dead. He was not here for hope, or for sorrow. He didn’t know why he was here, why he’d chosen to linger in the city. Only that there was something fitting about it, that he should be here, the only person who could fill in the gaps of the city’s memory with his own jagged shards.

[nalukahvi]

FFxivWrite2023 Participation Prize - Esredes

Another year of folks giving writing their all, and another year I have the joy of drawing something for one of the winning entries! This year my winner is @crimsonfluidessence with their character, Esredes! Their writing really got to me and 100% inspired the finished result for the art.

Huge thank you as always to @sea-wolf-coast-to-coast for organizing FFXIVWrite! And a big thank you to @crimsonfluidessence for the great food (the writing)!

[lucinata]

FFXIVWrite, Prompt #18: Hackneyed

If at first you don't succeed, try try again.

Even if you die, it was all just a premonition, so you can go at it again.

If you encounter a problem, use gun. And if that don't work, use more gun.

Find your one solution and throw it at every problem you see.

When your favorite shirt gets worn out, patch it up and use it again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again.

It's more patch now than shirt.

People don't wear out like clothes do.

(The tears stay hidden, and are rarely mended.)

Primals are mundane now that we have a solution to them. Everyone feels so much safer now.

(Except the guy who has to fight the primals, but they haven't said anything yet.)

Got a problem? Ask the Scions!

Always put all the eggs in the one, sturdiest basket you've found.

People don't notice things are breaking until they suffer the consequences themselves.

To do the same thing over and over while expecting different results is madness.

[alicesadventuresinffxiv]

In another time, another place

There’s just something about characters speculating how their lives could have gone differently that is pure catnip to me! Especially characters where, but for a few key choices, they might have wound up as a hero rather than a villain, or vice versa.

Now combine that with having an NPC cosplay alt, meaning that I spend a not-insignificant portion of my FFXIV playtime wondering what that character would think about lots of random stuff.

End result: an entire menagerie of Fordola-centric plot bunnies! This post will be an attempt to corral said bunnies into a form that’s at least somewhat organized. It will also grow over time as I add writeups for new AUs if and when they become relevant to what I’m posting on this sideblog!

.

To Catch a Falling Star: Instead of leaving for Doma, Lyse spends Stormblood infiltrating the Skulls, with the ultimate goal of convincing Fordola to defect to the Resistance. When your army gets decimated, just steal the other guy’s one, you know?

Eventual Fordola/Lyse, with a complicated enemies-to-lovers arc.

Note that I'm writing scenes from this as they fit the FFxivWrite prompts, not in chronological order. So here's a second list, with the entries listed in the order they occur in the timeline (though there are still large gaps and lots of missing scenes I haven't done yet!)

Take our quarry alive!

Plans Hatched Behind Bars

Narrow Horizons

For a Morsel of Acceptance

Who wants to steer the Reaper?

Those Fleeting Halcyon Moments

A Telling Emotion

Deleterious Relations

Sally forth, to endings unwritten

Aftermath of a Duel

.

WoL!Fordola AU: Not WoLFordola like the ship, WoL!Fordola as in the original Warrior of Light, the Meteor Survivor who fought at Carteneau, who destroyed the Ultima Weapon, who ended the Dragonsong War… he died to Zenos at the end of Stormblood. Oops!

Now Fordola is the only one left who has the fighting skill needed to even have a chance of filling his shoes.

This is the timeline I’m basically writing as I take my alt through the MSQ. It starts out as a continuation of TCaFS (so technically TCaFS is one of my WoL’s backstories in a roundabout way haha). But it gets even weirder. Fordola might be the new WoL, for example, but it’s Krile who is the shard of Azem!

Fics in this AU:

A Nostalgic Adventure (end of Eureka)

Falling through memory, hand in hand (during 5.2)

Third-Rate Azem (after 5.3)

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WoL was out fishing, Fordola did the sidequests instead: Not an AU so much as a common premise I use. Fics in this series assume that everything is the same as in canon, including there being some non-specific WoL (maybe even your WoL!) who exists and follows the normal MSQ. However, while they’re busy offscreen somewhere, Fordola is forced to pick up the slack for them and do sidequests where she doesn't usually appear.

My first FFXIV fic (Sympathetic Resonance aka "why is Fordola in Eureka?") would be part of this series, as would my WIP Sorrows of Werlyt fic.

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8th Umbral Calamity: Shadowbringers never specifies whether Lyse and Fordola are killed by Black Rose in the bad timeline. What if they weren’t? Lots of fun (and by fun I mean tragic) ways that could play out!

Originally, this was going to be a kind of Apocalypse/Road Trip AU, with Lyse and Fordola traveling through a Black Rose-devastated Ala Mhigo and trying not to to kill each other before they reached Cid and the Ironworks.

Then I was writing an FFxivWrite entry and realized it would be interesting to combine it with another AU I had, where Fordola gets executed by the Resistance and winds up accidentally bodysharing with Lyse…