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This is the best out of context spolier

WOL shower thoughts

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Dealing with trauma

Rewriting history

Romanticize

Not to vague about something here, but wow, there are a million different reasons for telling stories. Why are popular tumblr blogs/posts acting like the only reason is self-projection? Um, no???

This also might explain why some people get so fucking caught up in storylines and ships and get pissed if it doesn’t go their way. Sorry, you’re not the story, you are in fact separate from the story, and it is okay for things to happen that you don’t agree with.

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Here's a better one!...

;

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I hate this. I HATE HOW TRUE THIS IS!

Problems only writers understand

Having very chaotic notes on your phone

Having secret files that you will NEVER let anyone ever see

WHAT THAT WORD THAT MEANS THAT THING????

Why cant I think of a name?

Writing 10k words in a day then never again

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zenos is the funniest ffxiv character because he was given a second chance at life with no expectations, royal duties or imposed burdens, free to lead a perhaps self-fulfilling future by making different, wiser decisions after discovering the euphoria the world can actually offer after all, and he said lol fuck that actually ! hijacked an elezen, stole a hilariously small copter, then proceeded to do the exact same things but worse. dopamine deficient king

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Yep, angst and emotional damage taste good today.☕️

What, you thought ancient beings like us incapable of crying?

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It's really good! The dialog even fits the style of FF14; when I try to do that, it feels clunky or off. 😅

Wish you luck on finishing it!

WIP Wednesday Thursday

Tagged by the ever-wonderful @lookbluesoup. Thank you so much!! I'm not sure who to tag myself, but if you'd like to join in, please feel free!!

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“You need to rest.”

F’ystran’s heart lurched at the look F’yllis fixed him with, the predator-still glare of a creature going mad in creeping increments but holding on with a wounded grit. Her pupils were slit razor-thin, as though the Light shone pin-pointed into them—the pain of that alone must have been unbearable. He wondered if the spectacles did anything at all.

She had been smiling not so long ago. Weary, but moving at her usual pace, flitting between conversation with the others before she retired. He had sensed something was amiss when she did not notice him pass her by and he saw her face fall into something agonized.

“I’ve grown tired of hearing that,” she said, voice measured and low from her place at the table. She had heard him enter her suite—he knew by a flick of her ear—but a half a bell had passed with no word nor movement from her beyond the slow rise and fall of breaths so faint they would be better suited to the dying. Even her tail, usually so animated, lay curled over her lap, still and obedient.

“You would hear it less if you heeded it.”

“There is no time for it.”

“You’ve time right now.”

Her brow pinched, but it was the only obvious sign of displeasure. Everything else was static, wound tight. He frowned deep in her stead, making his way to the table and leaning the back of his legs against it to look her closer.

From here, he could see the marble pallor to her skin, light, living desert tinge to it gone quartz-pale. The flecked edges of rose-gold in her hair were unnaturally bright, roots just a shade lighter and more shining than the dusty grey of the rest of it.

“Y’shtola—”

“Shtola has already told me the same. And Ryne. Urianger as well. And Thancred. And the twins.” When he opened his mouth again to speak, she pressed on, a little firmer. “Yes, the Exarch has beaten you to it as well. How that must agitate you.”

He blinked at the uncommon bite of coldness, and she must have seen it because she sighed, a hard expulsion of breath that misted out of her mouth like winter steam despite the warmth of the room.

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Nothing like playing charades with my phone to figure out what the hell I'm trying to spell.

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"Uh." Elise breathlessly studders; as the owner leans up, a deep chuckle rumbles. "Say no, I'll walk away." His breath tickles her cheek and warms her ear. When the owner leans back, Elise's brown eyes begin their slow sojourn, drinking in his appearance. Hair of cotton bolls frames his angler, hollow face while barely touching his shoulders. Long and Pointy ears, a signature of the Elezen, sprout from the side of his head; golden cuffs are clamped onto them. Those softly shaped brows lowers, sharpening those upturned eyes. His hands— markless and smooth: a sign of ignorance of hardship, and those fingers... Elise stared at those fingers. No rings are married to them, and the nails are trimmed and clean. As Elise bites her lip, there's an ache in her heart. He looks like Haurchefant— not in a glaringly obvious way, but if she were to squint, his image would eclipse with Haurchefant. Now that she thinks about it, the owner's voice sounds like his, too. The ooze of glee laced with a devilish playfulness; Elise takes a deep breath as she remembers how much of a drug that man was. "Tell me your name."

Another update/update! I actually wrote a couple of paragraphs that I really, really like. This section being one of them.

I'm croasing my fingers that tonight is the night that I get this finished!..

WELP! Time to put Golden Hour and Habits (covered by Rain Pariss) on loop!

“Excellent.” Even though a smile slips back in-place, the boy’s voice doesn’t reflect it. Long with a sigh, it’s still just a whisper. “Where is she—” “I can’t say, Alphinaud.” Slowly she shakes her head with her sad eyes, “I won’t.” He takes a step back. Shock is written ever so clearly on his face: those sapphire eyes widen and his jaw slacks. No is still one of those things that crawl under his moonlight skin. Wearing those black, fingerless gloves, he huffs in his hand and straightens back up; once he smooths out the shock on his face, he speaks. “Why?” “Oh, I want to— I really do… But, if I do, you will go there.” There’s a spark in Tatatru’s wine eyes. It fades too quickly for Alphinaud to pick it apart; she wobbles closer to his legs and lightly pats it. “And it’s no place for a child.” A child— the words, like a stowaway dagger, repeatedly plunges into Alphinaud’s chest. Before, he would lash out. Before, he would throw back-handed comments at those that would dare to use his age as an excuse… but this isn’t before. This is after the near extinction of the Scions. This is after the three of them were framed for the so-called murder of Ul’dah’s sultana. He has grown since before: a tad bit humbler, he likes to think.

I just wanted to share a snippet of a one-shot I worked on last night. I'll give a update when I'm finish and post it on Ao3— other than that, I hope y'all are having a fantastic day!

The inspo came from Rain Pariss's cover of Habits. It'll make more sense later on when I put all of it out, promise. =]

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Hey— Did Anyone Figure Out How Sadu was Able To Tell Who Had Whos' Soul??

Ok, ok— incase you're drawing a blank (this happened in Stormblood), I'll give you a quick run-down.

Sadu of the Dotharl is the leader of Dothral, a tribe within Azim Steppe. When you meet the tribe, you learn how vicious and reckless they are.

Death— that is another thing that makes them stand out: they do not fear it. They belive in reincarnation. Heck, they even go as far as using their past live's name.

Once a new member is born, the leader of Dothral— Sadu— is in-charge of recognizing those reincarnations. She claims that there is a way to tell.

Yet, she never actually shows you... Now that we're all caught up, let me tell you how dumb I feel!

When this happens in Stormblood, I just shurg off, thinking, "oh. This is just a world building thing." BUT NO.

There's a possibility that Sadu has the very same abilities that the Ancient had. The ability to see a person's soul.

Idk if anyone else caught onto that, but I sure in the hell didn't!

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“Hello there, stranger.” As the couch dips, the man says, “you’ve been coming here often, haven’t you.” That should make Elise’s stomach turn, but it doesn’t. “So what that I have—” her voice croaks “—I pay.” She still gazes at the mountains of deprived sex; the Miqo’te catches her. She doesn’t pull away, nor does she glare. No, a smirk spreads on those deliciously shiny lips, and her hand slips between their bodies, grabbing him. “You’re offended. Apologies, it wasn’t my intentions to do so.” A frown creases Elise’s face. “I only wished to inquire a little about—” something soft touches her arm. Shoving herself up, she yanks her arm away. “Don’t touch me!” Her hiss is drowned out by the waves and waves of whines, but the man slowly retracts his gloved hand. A corner of his lip perks up. “My, my— I only seem to vex you; I’m such a terrible host.” Elise narrows her eyes. An unsavory snigger slithers from him before waving a finger. 

Another update! Currently, the one-shot is 4 pages; to be honest, I thought this was going to be short.

My story had other plans 😅

I do want to say that it's getting to the middle-ish now! Anyway, here's another snapshot. Also, have a nice night y'all!

“Excellent.” Even though a smile slips back in-place, the boy’s voice doesn’t reflect it. Long with a sigh, it’s still just a whisper. “Where is she—” “I can’t say, Alphinaud.” Slowly she shakes her head with her sad eyes, “I won’t.” He takes a step back. Shock is written ever so clearly on his face: those sapphire eyes widen and his jaw slacks. No is still one of those things that crawl under his moonlight skin. Wearing those black, fingerless gloves, he huffs in his hand and straightens back up; once he smooths out the shock on his face, he speaks. “Why?” “Oh, I want to— I really do… But, if I do, you will go there.” There’s a spark in Tatatru’s wine eyes. It fades too quickly for Alphinaud to pick it apart; she wobbles closer to his legs and lightly pats it. “And it’s no place for a child.” A child— the words, like a stowaway dagger, repeatedly plunges into Alphinaud’s chest. Before, he would lash out. Before, he would throw back-handed comments at those that would dare to use his age as an excuse… but this isn’t before. This is after the near extinction of the Scions. This is after the three of them were framed for the so-called murder of Ul’dah’s sultana. He has grown since before: a tad bit humbler, he likes to think.

I just wanted to share a snippet of a one-shot I worked on last night. I'll give a update when I'm finish and post it on Ao3— other than that, I hope y'all are having a fantastic day!

The inspo came from Rain Pariss's cover of Habits. It'll make more sense later on when I put all of it out, promise. =]

[sheluma]

“Excellent.” Even though a smile slips back in-place, the boy’s voice doesn’t reflect it. Long with a sigh, it’s still just a whisper. “Where is she—” “I can’t say, Alphinaud.” Slowly she shakes her head with her sad eyes, “I won’t.” He takes a step back. Shock is written ever so clearly on his face: those sapphire eyes widen and his jaw slacks. No is still one of those things that crawl under his moonlight skin. Wearing those black, fingerless gloves, he huffs in his hand and straightens back up; once he smooths out the shock on his face, he speaks. “Why?” “Oh, I want to— I really do… But, if I do, you will go there.” There’s a spark in Tatatru’s wine eyes. It fades too quickly for Alphinaud to pick it apart; she wobbles closer to his legs and lightly pats it. “And it’s no place for a child.” A child— the words, like a stowaway dagger, repeatedly plunges into Alphinaud’s chest. Before, he would lash out. Before, he would throw back-handed comments at those that would dare to use his age as an excuse… but this isn’t before. This is after the near extinction of the Scions. This is after the three of them were framed for the so-called murder of Ul’dah’s sultana. He has grown since before: a tad bit humbler, he likes to think.

I just wanted to share a snippet of a one-shot I worked on last night. I'll give a update when I'm finish and post it on Ao3— other than that, I hope y'all are having a fantastic day!

The inspo came from Rain Pariss's cover of Habits. It'll make more sense later on when I put all of it out, promise. =]

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To say Conuselo’s transition to Crotus Penn was smooth sailing would be a lie. Not the biggest of her lies, but a lie nonetheless… Anyway, it’s not because of how small and cramped her new office is or how Crotus’s files aren’t digitalized. No, no— most of the blame can be placed on the residents. Her assumption about them being a pack is more or less correct; however, it doesn’t feel right to call them that. When someone says pack, you automatically think of wolves. Ferocious beasts that scheme to take you down the moment you turn your back. The residents aren’t a dog to beat off, no. Perhaps a flock would be a better terminology: like sheep, it’s uncommon to just see a resident alone, literally and figuratively. With that mentality, it has been challenging for Consuelo to open them up during sessions. Three— that’s how many patients she talked to, and they all ended the same way: crickets. Only the one-sided conversation and breathing of the patients are recorded. It’s both pitiful and teeth-grindingly annoying, yet she knows she can’t rush for results. Scaring a sheep will only turn the flock against her.

I just wanted share the begin of a draft I'm working on for my fanfic. I really, really happen with how it kicks off... however.

I'm worried that it's too boring; can I get some opinions from fellow writers and readers alike?

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See, this is why I love FF14: there's always more lore to learn.

hey. ffxiv lore question that's very serious and very important

why do chocobos even exist on the first

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Writing Legend and Folklore

                Unlike mythology, legends are more rooted in historical events and may even have recorded, proven details. Your legend will likely feature real humans as characters experiencing something that happened in a real place in your world. The fun things about legends is that often the truth of the past has been twisted and changed over time. While it’s important for you as the writer to know the absolute truth about your history, your characters may never learn the truth behind the legend, or may trade slightly different alternate stories.

                Legends reflect the values or fears of a society. Much of Folklore comes from parents intending to shield their children from danger—whether going out at night and getting snatched by the boogeyman, or wandering too close to the rapids and being dragged in by a dangerous Kelpie. So start with a real value or danger, and begin to embellish.

                Maybe in your world society really values compassion. A tale may start out with someone hoarding resources and ignoring those in need which then manifests a shadow monster that gobbles both them and their riches right up! Name the monster, and you have a campfire-worthy folk tale for your characters to tell late into the night.

                Or, if your legend has no moral or lesson, it may feature something unexplainable that happened to real people. Stories you hear of disappearing cities or villages come from this place—people witnessing something or experiencing something they can’t explain, and creating a story to explain it anyway.

                The original teller of this story, or the original source, should be difficult if not impossible to track down, to make sure it remains shrouded in mystery.

                Does your world feature any legends or folktales? Let me know!

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Mood.

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