FFXIV Writes Day 1 - Envoy

FFXIV Writes Day 1 - Envoy

Endwalker Spoilers, entry under the cut. CW for religious themes and suicide

Nerves had little place in the shared consciousness of the Meteia. Still, the burden placed upon the little starbird, that brave little spark faring the cold, endless sea of stars could not be denied. It wasn't easy to serve as mankind's envoy to their stellar cousins, and she'd met as much failure as success in her first forays. But she'd continue to seek out new peoples, new worlds. To find what gave their lives joy and meaning, and send her findings back to her sisters and Hermes himself. And then he'd smile and give her a flower, like he promised.

Everything would be fine. It would! Even if the first fourteen star systems she'd managed to track were less than encouraging, she wouldn't give up. ...even if more were like the eighth world her sister found, the one that lauded her as a celebrated envoy before annihilating itself and her in the process...

Should I be more careful when I get to this next star? She mused to herself. She hovered her bird form above the atmosphere of her next planet, considering her options carefully.

From a distance, the world didn't appear to be dangerous. There were no active fires or explosions, nor environmental degradation that could prove dangerous to her as she descended. In fact, it seemed almost peaceful.

And yet, deep in her chest, she could feel the cold claws of despair digging at her, emanating from the world below.

Oh no... Not here, not here too!

She dove into the planet's atmosphere, streaking through the sky like a comet as she descended towards its surface, towards the one strong beacon of emotion she could sense, driven by equal parts determination and terror.

It's just lingering sentiment from my sisters, things will be fine here, they HAVE to be!

Yet all the positive thinking in the world could not alter the reality into which she fell. Though there were no fires, no windstorms, no earth-shattering cracks or floods or frozen wastes or plagues choking the air, there were bodies and collapsed buildings. Innumerable, immeasurable destruction, yet tinged with an eerie stillness and quiet, the calm before or immediately after the storm.

There was a man- or something vaguely in the shape of one, albeit far too short for any she knew back on Etheirys- knelt before the rubble, his face coated in dust and dried viscera. She assumed her humanoid form to approach him, gently reaching out to his mind.

[Greetings. Can you hear me?]

The man started, his hand reaching for a blade at his side as he rose to his feet and whirled around to face her. Clearly, he was expecting an attacker, and she needed to chose her next words with care. (Although her programming would allow for but the standard greeting once she began it.)

[Do not be alarmed! I only wish to hear your words. Share your feelings. Know your thoughts. May we please be friends?]

The man laughed, as though the notion of companionship in his current surrounds was some incomprehensible cosmic joke. "Friends? You talk to me in my head, and expect that we can simply 'be friends' after everything that's happened here?"

She tilted her head. ['After everything that's happened'? Could you please explain? I've come from another star to discover what other people live for, and I don't know anything about this place.]

"...you want to know what we live for here?" The man asked, incredulous. After a moment of silence, he heaved a sigh from somewhere deep in his chest. "Once, I knew the answer to that question. We all did. We lived for our God, our glorious Creator. He gave us everything we could ever ask for. Safe haven from the wilderness, systems of law, intellect, art, magic, our very forms."

A bitter scowl crossed his face. "And then we grew proud. We thought ourselves beyond Him, thought we could ascend to His level. One of our number even managed to pierce His lofty heavenly throne, and then..."

The man shuddered. "Judgement was swift. Retribution moreso. He made our towers crumble and collapse beneath their own weight, stole the lifesbreath from our lungs, and proclaimed that once this season's crops had been reaped, nothing more would grow again. He proclaimed us a failure, then abandoned us after unmaking all we had become."

Meteion felt a sympathetic shudder roil across her being, not only from the sheer weight of his emotions, but from her sisters' knowledge of Etheirys. How familiar this tale felt to her ears, to be treasured as a beautiful creation, then cast aside once one no longer served their purpose.

Unbothered by her reaction, the man paused in his recollection of events to address her directly. "And you would ask me what I live for?"

She nodded, whispering in his mind, [Yes! I know things are bad right now, but surely there must still be something that you live for!]

The man shook his head, a hollow look of resignation sinking into his eyes. "He was everything to us, and without Him, we are nothing. We will not survive without His protection and guidance. ...I see now that those of us left alive after he left us were the cursed ones, not the fortunate. He wanted us to suffer and die for our pride. He wanted to punish those of us left behind. I was the last to hold on to hope that He would return. And I will hold on no more."

The man drew his blade and Meteion took a step back, arms raised as if they would do anything to defend her if he struck. [Wait! P-Please wait, there must be something worth living for, some small happiness or joy or hope or favorite food or-!]

Again, the man shook his head. "Fly away, little one. May your wings carry you to brighter worlds than this. There is nothing you seek here."

Ichor painted his neck. A body fell to the ground before the star-faring familiar with the mind of an inquisitive young girl. She fell to her knees shortly after, wailing in agony and sympathetic sorrow as the emotions of all the dead around her closed in like a whirlwind, tinting her feathers black as the void of space from end to base.

It was too much, too much for any soul to bear. World after world, star after star, nothing but sadness and anger and hatred and death and despair and-

No more. No more could she abide in useless hope. She would join the rest of her sisters singing a requiem for the universe, and serve as an envoy of despair.

Her report rang through her shared consciousness to all her sisters. It read:

"Deka-pente. Local civilization once flourished under auspices of higher power. Said power later laid waste to civilization in fit of rage. Upon revealing this to me, entity elected to self-terminate in lieu of providing answer to question. No other intelligent life-forms found."

AO3 Etiquette

It would seem a whole new kind of AO3 reader/writer is emerging and it is becoming clear not everyone quite understands how the website community works. Here is some basic guidance on how most people expect you to go about using AO3 to keep this a fun community archive that funtions correctly:

Kudos is for when the story was interesting enough to make you finish reading. If it sucked or was badly written, you probably left. If you finished - you kudos.

If you liked it, you should comment. It can be long and detailed or a literal keysmash. Writers don't care, we just love comments.

No critisism unless the author has specifically asked or agreed to hear it. Even constructive critisism is a no-no unless an author note tells you it's okay. Many people write as a fun hobby or a way to cope with, among other things, insecurity. Don't ruin that for them.

Do not comment to ask the author to write/update something else. It's tacky and off-putting and will probably have the opposite effect than the one you want.

There is no algorithm, it's an archive. Use the search and filter function to add/remove the pairings/characters/tropes etc. you want to read about and it will find you the fics that fit the bill.

For this to work, writers must tag and rate stories. This avoids readers finding the wrong things and missing the stuff they want. I don't care how cringy that trope is in your eyes - it gets tagged.

Character A/Character B means a ROMANTIC or SEXUAL relationship of some kind. Character A&Character B is PLANTONIC, like friendship or family.

Nothing is banned. This is an implicit rule because banning one thing is a slipperly slope to banning another and another, until nothing is allowed anymore. Do not expect anyone to censor for you. Because of the tags system, you are responsible for your own reading experience.

People can create new chapters and sequels/fic series any time after they "complete" a story. So it's considered perfectly normal to subscribe, even to a finished story. You can even subscribe to the author instead just to cover your bases.

Do not repost stories or change the publishing date without an extremely good reason (like a complete top to bottom rewrite). It's an archive, not social media. No one cares what's the most recent, only what fits their tag needs.

Avoid deleting a story you wrote if you hate it - orphan it so others can still enjoy it, without it being connected to you anymore.

This is a creative fanfiction archive. No essays on your insights or theories please. There are other places for that.

I KNOW there's plenty more I missed but I'm trying to cover most of the basics that people seem to be struggling with.

I invite anyone to add to this, but please explain, don't berate.

every time i see lightwarden aus i just

FFXIV Writes Day 4 - "Off the Hook"

End of ARR spoilers, messy friendship dynamics, and relational drama.

Finding himself at the epicenter of a dwindling circle of friends was, unfortunately, not a new experience for Xander. He'd been through it many times before, especially before the Calamity, before he had the courage to live as his true self. The names and faces of those old friends had faded into the fog of memory, but the hurt their abandonment and betrayal seared into his heart remained. Remained and flared as he watched Iori stalk off in the middle of the night, proclaiming that he would focus on the true threats the star was facing- the primals- rather than allow himself to become distracted by petty geopolitical maneuvering.

Xander couldn't help but take offense at the auri man's description of the Crystal Braves. Yes, the organization was in its infancy and needed a lot of refining, but the idea was born of pure intentions and was not simple, petty politics. It wasn't, Alphinaud had grander ambitions than that.

Celeste's abrupt departure just after the conclusion of NOAH's investigation into the Crystal Tower hurt even more. When Iori left, Xander had been expecting it- he'd never seen eye-to-eye with the man. But Celeste, his ally, his confidante...

All the elezen left behind was a note.

"I think it's best if I go my own way for a while. Be able to help more people that way. Sorry. -C"

No direct words of confrontation, no litany of reasons why she left. Just an apology and silence. Now, M'hana was the only one left at his side as things in the wider world kept worsening. Rumors of dragons swarming the skies above Ishgard filtered to the Scions, prompting action.

Yet, they still had moments to breathe, moments of levity. Which is why, within the crystalline wastelands Mor Dhona had become, he and his miqo'te companion had set up camp beneath the stars.

After assisting the locals with some rampaging hippogryphs, Xander wandered back towards their campsite with weary step and heavy breath. The only thing that gave him some pause was the familiar sunny chattering with which M'hana filled the air. That she was talking to someone via linkpearl was obvious, but who...?

"...Oh come on, he's really not that bad."

Xander lurched behind a convenient crystal to keep himself out of sight, his heart dropping in an icy pit to the depths of his stomach. He didn't want to assume, and yet he couldn't help the inescapable suspicion coiling around his gut that she was talking about him behind his back.

A suspicion confirmed moments later when M'hana continued, oblivious to her eavesdropper, "No, seriously, Xan is fine. I get why ye left Elly, I really do, I know he was sort of shoving ye out of yer main 'thing' for the group. And- okie, I'll admit yer right, he can be a bit of an arrogant prick just like the Leveilleur boy can, but it's not that bad hanging out with him."

His heart squeezed, an old, familiar dread settling into the marrow of his bones. Dread, followed swiftly by seething resentment. So, Celeste answers HER linkpearl calls but refuses to answer MINE. And M'hana stays in touch with her behind my back, likely PRESUMING that I wasn't like to take it well if I found out...

"..and to be honest, Celeste? I feel kind of bad for the man."

Thump.

"I mean it's pretty obvious he never had many friends growing up."

Thu-thump.

"And it cannae be easy for him right now, handling all this shite on his own. I sort of pity him, y'know?"

Dread and festering resentment seared into rage. Xander's veins and eyes both felt ablaze as that ever-familiar word, 'pity', dropped once more from the lips of someone he trusted more than any other. Pity, sympathy, oh-don't-you-just-feel-so-bad-for-them, look-I'm-a-good-person-for-befriending-them. That's what it was. That's what it always was, never that they valued him, never that they enjoyed his company, oh no. It was always pity and usefulness that drove them.

His fists clenched at his side, his teeth grinding as he tried his damnedest to keep treacherous tears from falling down his cheeks. He stalked over to their shared campfire, M'hana's blithe and cheerful wave only stoking the fires of his fury.

"So. So. You pity me, huh? Is that why you stayed?"

The Sun Seeker's smile shrank by several molars. "...ye were listening in on the linkpearl call, then?"

"Answer the question."

She rubbed the back of her neck, tousling silver hairs at her nape. "I mean, no? Kinda? Not really? Look, it's sort of complicated-"

"Do. Not. Lie. To. Me."

M'hana shrank back as he stepped towards her, brows furrowing in a pained expression as she replied, "I wasn't! I'm not. I- fuck's sake, Xan, I didnae mean it like that-"

And there it was again. The same gormless, spineless excuse. Xander could practically feel the venom in his words as he spat, "Oh, I'm so sorry to have misinterpreted you, then. Pray, tell me then, how exactly did you mean it when you told Celeste you 'felt bad for me'? That you 'pitied me'?"

M'hana worked her mouth wordlessly for several moments before settling into a defeated pout.

"What's the matter? Coeurl got your tongue, Hana? Or are you just scared to admit the truth?"

She sighed, her expression uncharacteristically serious as she rose from her seated position and set about gathering her things.

"Oh. Oh, so you're just going to leave too? Too much of a coward to even bother answering me? I suppose I shouldn't be surprised, coming from the woman who hid behind the mask of her dead husband for moons and ran away when the world needed her most after the Calamity."

M'hana's body tensed, and Xander felt a lash of regret strike against his heart for those unspeakably cruel words as soon as they left his mouth. He recoiled, expecting for her to lash out in return, to shout with all the fire and fury he deserved for such a comment.

Instead, she kept her voice level. Annoyingly serene. "Look. I tried to give ye more of a chance than the others did, all right? But ye've clearly got some stuff that needs sorting out in yer insides, and ye know what? I'm comin' to realize it en't my job to help ye with it. I'm lettin' meself off the hook. Best of luck with the Braves, Xan. Ye and Alphie are gonna need it."

And before he could say anything else, the aether around her warped to whisk her away, leaving him alone by the campfire.

"...You're 'letting yourself off the hook' from helping me?" Xander murmured, incredulous for a moment before his voice rose to an echoing scream. One that he knew had no chance of ever reaching its intended target. "Well that's FINE! I never needed you! ANY of you! Filthy, parasitical leeches, the lot of you, riding the coattails of the Warrior of Light until he was no longer of use to you! That's just fine, I'm letting all of you off the hook from ever dealing with me again! I don't need you! I don't need ANYONE!"

His last scream echoed for what had to be malms for a moment before he collapsed to his knees, burying his face in his hands and letting out the sobs he'd been holding in. Bravely as he proclaimed it, with as much cruel certainty as he spoke those words, Xander knew himself for a liar.

He couldn't do this alone. He couldn't. Not when a confrontation with the Father of Dragons laid ahead of him. And so, when he'd finally managed to wrangle his emotions back under control and obtained a fitful night's sleep, he made a quick call in to the Scions for some adventurer backup. He would need the assistance to scale the wreckage of the Agrius. He could only hope that they would prove competent enough to handle the threats before them.

it's been said before and i'm sure said better than i can phrase it. but really, really - if you like making "i'm going to kill myself" jokes, please try switching to being ironically conceited instead.

anytime something goes wrong, say things like "ah well at least i'm beautiful and charming and everyone loves me." when you forget something, try "my big huge brain is so smart and thinking about too many other very big wizardly thoughts you wouldn't even understand." when you're frustrated by one of your symptoms, start talking like you're in My Immortal. "Life has come for me but my eyes are beautiful pools of gorgeous fire and my hair is amazing. I stuck my middle finger up at life and told it to fuck off and it did."

just... try it for a month or two. try saying the most absurdly self-congratulatory shit you can think of.

i know it's tempting to make suicide or self-harm jokes. and for me at least, a decade ago (!) when someone suggested i stop making those kinds of jokes, i was kind of at a loss for what to replace them with. i wanted to make light of these moments, but genuinely (at the time) my first thought really was suicidal ideation. there was a part of me that even felt like ... i was kind of "making light" of that voice. that if i could say i want to die lol, it would help take the sting out of that genuine (albeit passive) desire. like i could turn my illness into a joke.

when i started complimenting myself instead, it felt awkward and stupid. it felt really, really ironic. what i was actually saying was nobody would ever think this stuff about me, that's what makes it so fucking funny.

but. the effect was immediate. first thing i noticed was the people around me. when i dropped a glass and said ah my skin is too beautiful and sleek the glass has swooned and broken for me, other people were suddenly overjoyed to jump in with the joke. rather than making an awkward moment, we'd both start cracking up. ah princess sleek hands, i've heard of you.

i was 19. i hadn't noticed i'd been making others tense when i said i want it all to end. i know now that it's incredibly hard to know how to walk that moment - do you talk to them about your concern? do you potentially make them uncomfortable by asking if they're okay? do you ignore the situation? do you help them pick up the glass, or do they need to do it by themselves? are they genuinely made suicidal over this small moment? and most importantly, how do you - without professional training or supplies - actually help?

most people want to help you pick up the glass in your life, they just have no fucking idea how to do it. they don't want to make anything worse. they don't want to make assumptions about you. they love you, they're scared for you - and being scared makes people kind of freeze up. it's not because they don't love you. it's because they do.

now when something bad happens, my first thought is how can i make a stupid joke about this. it isn't my brain saying you're a dumb fucking bitch. i spend more time laughing. i spend more time being gentle with myself. i spend more time feeling good.

and the thing is - what's kind of funny - is that you'd be surprised by how many people agree with you. the first time i said i'm too pretty to understand that, someone else said to be fair you're the prettiest person in this room. i promise - you really don't know how kindly your friends see you. but they love you for a reason. they sort of reverse-velveteen-rabbit you. your weird and ugly spots fade away and you just become... the love they want to give you.

go love yourself ironically. the worst thing that happens is that you end up tricking your reflection into actually loving you.

things i have seen/experienced working in a toy store:

• a customer asking me if boys like coloring

• a customer telling her daughter she can’t give out ice cream stickers for party favors because there will be boys there

• an older couple laughing about how there’s a pink toy sword because a boy would never play with a pink toy sword (because i guess boys can’t like pink and girls don’t play with toy swords. also it wasn’t even pink it was red lol)

• a customer refusing to buy a snail robot kit for his nephew because it was “too cute for a boy”

• a customer sharply reminding me she was buying a gift for a boy when i suggested play food

• a customer telling her daughter she needed to pick a different birthday card for her friend because the one she chose had a pink envelope (her friend was a boy)

• a customer asking what a boy would like for valentine’s day instead of the stuffed dogs she was getting for the girls

• a customer getting upset when my coworker used blue ribbon on a gift bag because the present was for a girl

• a customer saying a toy guitar was “too girly” for her grandson, based only on the fact that the box had a picture of a girl playing with it (the guitar was red with yellow music notes)

but yeah, trans people have some real weird ideas about gender