iiinova — where your digital self keeps evolving

Darren Xirias (7.56 spoilers) @darrenxirias.bsky.social · 20h

Pre-Stormblood, with immediate suspicion - his mother is in Doma, how do they even know her, are they an Imperial spy? Post-Stormblood, he takes it as a compliment - his mom is both strong-willed and held the family aloft by her lonesome during the occupation, and he admires her a lot #darrenqotd

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Darren Xirias (7.56 spoilers) @darrenxirias.bsky.social · 21h

Pro Quest Results on Fai! R1 : Fang W / Two Art of Phoenix back to back won me the gale R2 : Oscillio W / He drew all dreacts early, allowing me to take the lead in HP R3 : Jarl L / got deckchecked and IP2ed, couldn’t claw back the advantage R4 : Dori L / didn’t block enough on key turns #fabrecap

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Darren Xirias (7.56 spoilers) @darrenxirias.bsky.social · 10/10/2026

Darren is easy to tolerate, and easier to like! That goes with being a compulsive helper who jokes around and feels at ease with everyone! …To love, though? Let’s just say he is a hard man to really know, and he can have some *concerning* tendencies (don’t ask why he always *needs* to help)

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Matt Byles @mattbyles.bsky.social · 08/10/2026

#starfoxtober #starfox - Panic Every single night, you're sure he'll be gone by morning.

Fox McCloud and Falco Lombardi share a rare, quiet and vulnerable moment together. But it's still not enough

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TrueScorn (comms closed) @truescorn.bsky.social · 10/10/2026

Because some things need to be said all at once.

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Moen ✍️ FFxivWrite Host! @moen-moen-ffxiv.bsky.social · 07/10/2026

#FFxivWrite2026 participation prize winners have been randomly selected ✨ and my no-ai audit is in progress!! In the meantime, I’m wondering: how long have y’all been doing FFxivWrite? Is this your 1st year? 3rd? 10th??

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Ninon Gaufrette🔥French Correction ⚒️☕ 🔎🖍️ @ninonchapo.bsky.social · 07/10/2026

Une autre pancarte de manif.

En noir, rouge et le dernier mot en vert :
La voilà ta
République en
Marché Connard.

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Rivière Renais @rivirenais.bsky.social · 06/10/2026

"We need each other, Rivi. I need you. Not as the savior of the star, as... you." Art to accompany this short fic I hashed out last night, set after both my last one and the most recent patch in general. #riviart #rivific

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Solaire 🔜 GATEway FATE 🐏 @solairelunaire.bsky.social · 06/10/2026

i got tired of digging through bookmarks/DMs to keep track of #ffxiv fandom prompt weeks...so here's a simple tracker/calendar i made to keep them all in one place. folks can also use the link in the description to submit new listings! poiesis.notion.site/3f01ae36ea10... #solairerefs

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Di [Comms OPEN] @dracodiezzel.bsky.social · 05/10/2026

Commission for @dcuttles.bsky.social #commission

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brooke! @rookiebe.bsky.social · 06/11/2024

Is that a the office reference in 2024 #ffxiv #comic #nimnai

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Sen the donkey @sengrisane.bsky.social · 13/04/2026

Sorted my thoughts about censorship, so I can stop thinking about it.

Infograph about censorship. It compares it to magnets.

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⚗️ Spook Knight Pickles 🧪 @pickles4nickles.bsky.social · 05/10/2026

OCTOBER MEANS IT'S TIME FOR SEASONALLY APPROPRIATE CAT-BAT-BUG GOTH DAD YAOI #hollowknight #pickleart

Grimm cradling Brumm like a sack of potatoes. Grimm has the expression of a pleased cat and his cape thingy is flared out. Brumm is a bit shy about it as he holds onto Grimm's arm that's wrapped around his chest. There's decorative flames at the bottom.

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Trusty! 🐍 @trustyalt.bsky.social · 04/10/2026

lets rocking with mama 💕

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Darren Xirias (7.56 spoilers) @darrenxirias.bsky.social · 03/10/2026

Darren has several katanas he swaps depending on the setting and the context, from utilitarian to fancy to his family heirloom blade, but he always carries a small handgun, a habit he kept from his Garlean cadet days. #darrenqotd

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Michaël Zemmour @michaelzemmour.cpesr.fr · 29/09/2026

La répression violente du mouvement lycéen est indigne, dangereuse et doit cesser. C'est irresponsable de prendre le risque de blesser des mineurs pour lever un blocage. Les lycées bloqués ne feront jamais perdre aux jeunes autant d'heure de cours que les classes sans profs qu'ils dénoncent.

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Sparky! @sparkyferrum.bsky.social · 01/10/2026

look at my leader… we’re getting lost on 2F #pokemon #pikachu #art #pmd

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Solaire 🔜 GATEway FATE 🐏 @solairelunaire.bsky.social · 01/10/2026

day 30 - vestige (CW: choking / breathplay ) last but never least, it's never an xivwrite for me without rancid yves/zenos tension (thanks to fray this time)! thanks so much to everyone who's checked out my works this month 🙏 ellipsus.com/read/6Tyuy6S... #nsfw | #solairewrites | #ffxivwrite2026

The sky of Solution Nine is a placid and cheerful blue—the same exact hue as it appeared ten hours, ten days, or ten years prior. The onslaught of electrope projections hovering over the streets of True Vue change with such rapid speed that no single image or slogan comes to mind when Yves tries to recall their purpose. The only exception are the Arcadion's advertisements bearing his own face, which only serve to make him wilt from sheer embarrassment.

From the height of his hotel room's window, the people walking the streets are no more than flecks of seafoam drowning in the city's sea of lights. Yves turns from the view with the taste of bile to keep him company. His hand stretches up to the window frame out of habit, before he stops to march across the small room instead. No manual shutters or drapes were to be found in any of these buildings: a sentry at the front desk had explained how every possible function of the room was to be accessed through a singular electrope remote.

It takes him five attempts between cycling through various combinations of buttons to cover the blinding window with a metal screen. His scowl deepens. The entire exercise is enough to make him consider returning to the Backroom in exasperation. The spare beds in Oblivion's headquarters were serviceable, and the building was quiet—but with only short, thin dividers separating each makeshift room, he could never truly lower his guard. This hotel in the Recreation Zone was private, even if the permanent glow of electrope lighting in every nook and corner was exhausting. He sits on the edge of the bed and rubs his thumb over the smooth, rounded gemstone at the center of his makeshift necklace.

"You know, you've touched his pendant for the twenty-fourth time today."

Yves doesn't need to look up from the floor to recognize Fray's presence as he materializes. "What sort of greeting is that?" Yves mutters.

"Tch. An honest one. I'm surprised Krile hasn't said anything about it, given her experiences and the effects of her Echo..."

His exhalation sounds sharper than he intends. "I am sure she has more important things to worry about. Taking care of the rest of this damned city, to start with."

Fray laughs and moves to sit beside him, making the mattress dip under a conjured impression of weight. "Oh, and what of you? Don't tell me you intend to spend your precious spare time worrying about the Alexandrians as well." The fact that Fray has opted to appear without his helmet, and therefore looks like a mirror image of Yves's own bleary-eyed face, is a poor omen. "Or is worry not the right word for what we feel about them at this moment?"

Yves is painfully aware of his throat as it swallows. He cannot help but shift the leather band of the necklace higher on his neck, and Fray's golden eyes stare at the movement in turn. "What I feel is irrelevant to what has to be done. And why ask questions you already know the answer to?"

Fray's face twists into a sneer. "You watch an entire city of grown adults wailing like newborn babes at the prospect of even a moment's awareness of what you bear—of what we must always remember—in every waking hour, endure as the only satisfying challenge of your abilities renders you a public carnival act for their very entertainment, and you call your reaction irrelevant?" He seizes the collar of Yves's tunic, the tips of his armored hands digging in below the collarbones. Even through gritted teeth, his breath is close enough to scald Yves's lips.

None of the anger or disgust in Yves truly belongs to Fray, yet he gladly swallows the poison down for them both. If Fray wishes to bruise or scar or maim him in turn it is his birthright. "They deserve better regardless," Yves whispers. Even as the words leave his mouth they seem immaterial, just as the sky, the lights, and the people here have always been.

One of Fray's hands slips upward and presses upon the amethyst over the center of his throat. It is only enough force to serve as a warning, but it still kindles heat deep within Yves's core like a flint against steel. "And what of us? What do we deserve?"

"F-Fray..." The pressure makes it harder for him to speak. Harder to think. Good.

"Of course, only now do you begin to enjoy yourself." As scathing as Fray's tone sounds, his face cannot hide the craving that both of them harbor in this moment. "Is it because you like to imagine his hands on your neck whenever I touch this little trophy he gave you?"

Yves's breaths grow quicker while Fray groans with vicarious pleasure. "You still recall how it felt to find satisfaction in each other, how vivid and real every moment became with him," Fray says, and he shoves Yves down onto the mattress at last. "This vestige of him alone is worth more than any laurels or praise that this city could grant you, hm?"

"Mmh!" A pathetic whine escapes from Yves's constricted throat. Fray's armored form looms over him, shrouding him from the unnatural glow of the room's cold lights, but he needs more. He needs to be engulfed, to be suffocated, to be consumed. His feeble attempts to arch against Fray’s body could never spark that conflagration, any more than a raindrop could start a flood.

"I do not care if I already know the answer. Speak. Beg for it properly," Fray snaps.

To stare at his own mirror image as he pleads is too cruel. Yves closes his eyes first and breathes as deep as he can through his nose. When his lips part and breath becomes air, the abyss within him and his own voice cry out in unison. Fray severs his vision as easily as if he were snuffing out a candle. The nauseating flickering of electrope is finally erased from sight, and Yves sinks into the dark.

As he falls, the hand on his throat tightens and shifts around him, until the sensation of leather and warm, bare fingertips eclipses his stuttering pulse.

"I am here, my friend."

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Jonathan Veiga @jonv.bsky.social · 01/10/2026

Update on the Scamp animation, add more character to him, and plan to render him out with his fur in Unreal, so stay tuned!

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AerialSquid - GATEway FATE bound! @aerialsquid.bsky.social · 01/10/2026

#FFXIVwrite2026 Day 30: Vestige We close on the afterglow of Thancred's religious experience.

Thancred felt drained of more than his bodily fluids by the time they were finished. He basked in Urianger's soft glow, hair tossled across the pillow. This close, he could sense when the pace of Urianger's soft breath shifted, when a gentle bask in the afterglow turned to anxiety. He watched the tilt of Urianger's eyeballs as they slowly lingered aross the bite mark Thancred could feel pleasantly throbbing on his neck."So," Thancred said, feeling he might as well break the ice quickly. "Bahamut. Is that your proper name?"

Urianger sighed the delicate sigh of a man regretting the loss of a brief moment of peace. "No. The moniker is not mine, but his. The entity to which mine life is bound."

"That sounds…complicated," Thancred said placidly. The art of a great listener came in hearing the most absolutely unhinged statements and reacting as if you'd been told the morrow's weather prediction. Thancred was a fantastic listener.

Urianger shifted, bringing his sharp nose against the curve of Thancred's shoulder. "Aye, quite so. T'is a connection I have held since my youth, since a chance encounter with a device found in a New Sharleyan archeological site."

Thancred sleepily followed along with Urianger's description of the dig site and its contents. Something about the Allagans studying tempering and draconic magics under controlled situations using small-scale modeling. Urianger's elegantly woven words seemed to duck and weave around the main issue.

Thancred interrupted the flow with a delicate touch to Urianger's right ear. The elezen quivered as Thancred's fingers drew up the length to softly pinch the tip.

"A primal," he whispered, saying the words that Urianger had been most purposefully avoiding. The words that meant a force that warped nature itself and corrupted all who came near it, save for those personally guarded by Hydaelyn's blessing. "This Bahamut is a primal."

"A-aye, but not of the sort we seek to thwart!" Urianger said hurriedly. It was cute, how the brightness of his eyes seemed to shift with his emotions, soft and gentle in the afterglow of sex and flaring bright with panic. "One summoned in a deliberately weakened state, so weak he cannot even manifest physical form unaided. A vestige of a being, raised from the memories of captured dragons crying out for safety and vengeance, wounded creatures baying for their father's succor. All…long dead, I am sure." His face turned side further, the glow muffled by the pillows.

Thancred resettled himself one arm around Urianger's lanky form. "Who else knows?"

"Master Louisoix and a few of his comrades, all sworn to secrecy. Mine adopted family, of course, t'would be impossible to hide such a condition from them. Few others beyond this, who did not witness mine troublesome first days as Bahamut's host."

"I see. So how did that go, then?"

Urianger breathed out slowly. "Once he had acertained the nature of mine situation, Master Louisoix didst have the kindness to put me into a alchemical stupor, that I might not rend mine comrades with fangs and talons which I didst not understand I lacked. In that stupor, contained and bound, Bahamut and I did reconcile to each other. Meditation and study, too, did quiet his rage within me. Mine daily sup provides sufficient aether for his purposes, that he does not drain from the land itself, and his rage doth not drive me to violence as once it did. Our bond hath now become that of cooperation, not of parasitism."

Thancred ran his fingers down Urianger's lanky arm, listening to Urianger describe the way his arcane abilities were enhanced by Bahamut's aide. Even as elezen went Urianger was on the thinner side under those robes, and pale as milk from staying indoors too long. Not Thancred's usual type at all. He liked powerful people.

But then, power came in different shapes. Some of those shapes had wings.

"After a time, I came to find the presence comforting," Urianger admitted, almost embarassed. "And in truth, such a being represents knowledge and culture long lost to this world, pale reflection though he is of the Bahamut who once lived and breathed. I now find I would be loathe to have his presence expunged from me, were such a thing even possible so many years later."

"Does he speak to you?"

"Not always in words, but…yes, of a fashion."

"Hm. What's he think of me?"

Urianger lifted his head, clearly not expecting the question. "Of thee?"

"Aye."

"Mmm." Urianger tilted his head thoughtfully. Thancred wondered if he was simply thinking or listening to the roaring voice of his inner dragon. Perhaps by now the two were impossible to distinguish.

"At first, a troublesome gnat. Then a threat, for he knoweth well the consequences should our bond become publicly known. But then you did speak kind words to me, and come to me with such tenderness." A gentle smile drifted across Urianger's face. "And though Bahamut may sustain his survival from mere bread and apples, his nature remains. Thine words were the closest to worship that he hath sensed in an age. I suppose I must apologize for mine enthusiasm in leaping upon thee so hastily. Your honeyed words stirred his hunger for praise most unbearably."

"So that was all Bahamut, then? Poor you, just along for the ride?" Thancred teased.

Urianger flushed sunset-red, from his high cheekbones along the ridge of his long ears. "Our interests were…convergent," he muttered into the pillow. "Mine apologies for thine bruises, I shall heal then anon."

"No, no, you can leave them. It's not every day I get a hickey from my god."

The lamp-bright flaring of Urianger's golden eyes at the deliberately-chosen phrasing of 'my god', the way the long fingers on Thancred's side suddenly clenched into the shape of talons, the sharp tang of his ambient aether against Thancred's tongue, all said Thancred wasn't getting out of here without another round of devotionals.

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Darren Xirias (7.56 spoilers) @darrenxirias.bsky.social · 01/10/2026

🧵And this is it! FFXIV Write 2026 is over, and I had a blast. For those who wish to read from start to finish, you can find it here : archiveofourown.org/works/918154... Main theme this year was my obsession with the WoL/Zoraal Ja ship, so if that sounds like your cup of tea, feel free to dive in!

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Darren Xirias (7.56 spoilers) @darrenxirias.bsky.social · 01/10/2026

My favorite part was sticking to a theme this year (shippingnmy WoL with a game character) and managing to make it enticing all the way! Also, it’s always a joy to see my friends and fellow authors pump out hits after hits ^^

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Darren Xirias (7.56 spoilers) @darrenxirias.bsky.social · 30/09/2026

Aaaaand that’s a wrap! 30 days of FFXIVWrite, 30 chapters. I am so tired, but also so glad I managed to finish this year. I’ll do a recap and thanks skeet tomorrow !

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poly! as seen in episode 17 @puropoly.bsky.social · 30/09/2026

for TheSwampyGildan on twt

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Daarclaw 𓅡 @daarclaw.bsky.social · 29/09/2026

You can count on Vassago #HelluvaBoss #Vassago #Stolas #fanart

Fanart collage of Vassago from Helluva Boss. Includes the Spanish phrase "Cuenta conmigo" ("Count on me") and also features Stolas.

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Darren Xirias (7.56 spoilers) @darrenxirias.bsky.social · 30/09/2026

Day 29: Layer Some Zoraal Ja angst, alongside some of my WoL’s somewhat extreme ideas on how to handle it archiveofourown.org/works/918154... #DarrenWrites #FFXIV2026

“…The King of Resolve dream, or the banishment dream?” asked the Hyur, not looking at Zoraal Ja. The Mamool Ja was grateful for it.

“The King of Resolve,” he replied, the image still vivid even though the exact details escaped him. “I was facing you atop the Everkeep, in the place of my loathsome copy.”

“And then?” asked the Hyur, coming back with the kettle, pouring down immediately in their cups. He remained curr, even, clinical.

“You know what happens next,” replied the Mamool Ja, nostrils flaring.

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AerialSquid - GATEway FATE bound! @aerialsquid.bsky.social · 29/09/2026

#FFXIVwrite2026 Day 28: On Thin Ice Okay back to ThanUri weirdness AU.

Most people were extremely bad at telling when someone is interested in them, especially Sharleyans. Thancred knew, because someone had published a paper studying it, which is possibly the most Sharleyan thing ever. Not Thancred, though — Thancred had made a practice of being able to tell.

"Is this what you've been nervous about? I was starting to think maybe you didn't like me."

"Nay…nay, t'is not…" Urianger shivered when Thancred pressed a stray wisp of hair up behind his ear. He let his hand linger there, casually pressing back Urianger's hood as if he'd barely meant to do so.

"There we go. You know, you really have a pretty face when it's not all covered up. I was hoping you realized I wanted to see more of it."

A delicate hooking of his thumb under the band and the goggles were pulled upward, baring that gorgeous yellow glow. This time Thancred was braced for the sight. He kept his face set, pleasant, smiling, as if it were the most natural thing in the world to have eyes that shone like the sun rising over the ocean.

"Aren't you gorgeous," he whispered. He rises up on his tiptoes, leaning out to let his lips press to Urianger's thin, trembling mouth. The stream of sparkling gold he'd seen through the sensors hovers in his mind, and he fancies he can even taste the stream of strange aether upon his tongue when their lips make contact. His imagination, surely.

Urianger's lips moved. Under his breath, Thancred caught snippets of words in a language he'd never heard before, and he'd heard quite a few in his time. And yet, somehow, he understood it.

If he desires, let the worshipper pray.

Thancred's back hits the wall before he realizes he's even been moved. The bookworm elezen must be stronger than he looks. And maybe some of this was a a game, a way to manipulate, but that doesn't mean that Urianger's not a very pretty elezen and that Thancred's not someone who finds danger exciting even if the only sign there is danger is a strange, mouselike sense of panic stirring somewhere in his hindbrain. The animal in him says run, and that only makes the man in him want to delve further. He doesn't know. He needs to know. He'll set himself alight in that golden gaze if it means he can finally understand it.

"If t'wouldst sate thine desires, will thou cease prying into mine affairs? Thou mayest find me not what thou expect." There's a growl behind Uriange'rs pleasant voice that sends Thancred's arousal skyrocketing.

"So far, you've been just perfect," Thancred gasps. His hands are already going to his trousers.

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Maddie COMMS OPEN @madelezabeth.bsky.social · 28/09/2026

Why not both? 😈 #helluvaboss #stolitz #vassago

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Darren Xirias (7.56 spoilers) @darrenxirias.bsky.social · 28/09/2026

Day 28: On Thin Ice Admiral Bloefhiswyn is an understanding woman. She’s had some trouble accepting Tural’s prince was swept off his feet by her subordinate, however. archiveofourown.org/works/918154... #DarrenWrites #FFXIVWrite2026

“Captain Xirias,” she told him, watching him squirm in his seat. “I remember telling you to assess the situation in Tural, and take appropriate measures to prevent any threat from coming to our shores.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Does this look like an appropriate measure?” she told him, pointedly, evenly, even as her head tilted towards her other guest of the hour. “To my understanding, I did not order you to bring back the heir to the throne as your paramour.”

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Darren Xirias (7.56 spoilers) @darrenxirias.bsky.social · 27/09/2026

Day 27: Free Day I mentioned Darren and Zoraal Ja’s love language was bickering. Today, I deliver on that promise. archiveofourown.org/works/918154... #DarrenWrites #FFXIVWrite2026

“You!” he shouted, pointing at Zoraal Ja, and the Mamool Ja straightened up in fright. “Did you eat my last yōkan?”

“Gods, not this again,” sighed Bakool Ja Ja, both siblings at once.

“…Yes,” admitted Zoraal Ja, and Darren’s rage exploded.

“I baked them for me, you inconsiderate prick!” he snarled.

“Then perhaps you should not have left it out in the open!” countered Zoraal Ja. “What was I supposed to do, divinate it was yours?”

Bakool Ja Ja silently left the quarters, willing to be anywhere but here at the moment.

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Darren Xirias (7.56 spoilers) @darrenxirias.bsky.social · 26/09/2026

Day 26: Susurrus Words whispered in the dark can sometimes shed the most light on one’s inner thoughts archiveofourown.org/works/918154... #DarrenWrites #FFXIVWrite2026

For a man as boisterous as his lover was, he could be frightfully quiet when he wanted to be. This, he had learned early on, when after a night spent in each other’s embrace, the Hyur, in a daze, would often ask him questions with a whisper, as if saying them louder than that would break the sanctity of the moment.

For Zoraal Ja had realised, Darren easily gave away his body when the need took him, but his heart? His heart was something he was quite more hesitant about giving.

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Flesh and Blood TCG @fabtcg.com · 26/09/2026

Unbound Viserai traverses i’Arathael, searching for the keys to freedom through memory… Read and Listen: buff.ly/SOIatQX

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Darren Xirias (7.56 spoilers) @darrenxirias.bsky.social · 26/09/2026

Day 25: Cynosure Crimson Storm always puts on a show in the ring, and people can’t help but watch archiveofourown.org/works/918154... #DarrenWrites #FFXIVWrite2026

"What a fight folks! Crimson Storm is showing the crowd again how he became the grand champion!”

Metem’s voice carried through the stadium, overcoming even the clamour of the roaring crowd. Down in the ring, Darren was, clad in a crimson-coloured samurai armour of old, utterly impractical, and a statement of style he felt compelled to follow ever since he had first taken down the Tyrant in it.

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AerialSquid - GATEway FATE bound! @aerialsquid.bsky.social · 25/09/2026

#FFXIVwrite2026 Day 25: Cynosure "One that serves to direct or guide" www.tumblr.com/aerialsquid/...

The Blessed Siblings listened to the sound of boots on gravel fade into the shadows. "Please let him go," the Mighty whispered to whatever in the darkness might be listening. "He has done nothing wrong. He has been annoying. It's all right to be annoying. But he has done no crimes."

"We have, brother."

"I know. I know."

The rock edges digging into his back felt like the fangs of a viper buried in his scales. Bakool Ja Ja ignored it, continuing to brace on his hands and knees. He wondered if the souls of the lost children were standing above him, hopping up and down to worsen the burden on his shoulders.

"Perhaps this is right," the Mystic whispered. "To be buried with our brothers who died to bring us into the world. To return to the place we should have always been." His tongue flicked out to brush at the Mighty's cheek, the only contact they could make.

There was a time they'd have welcomed this oblivion. A time when the pressures of his station were already crushing him to death, and then when abandoning them left him adrift. There was a reason he always went to the Skydeep Cenote to cry. At times it had been so bad he'd fantasized about the vengenceful souls of his stillborn brothers coming to drag him into the water with them, like the mistake he was.

Now he had a job, and friends, and a purpose, and a lover. He had a reason to want to return to the world of trees and sunlight above. Perhaps that made this the best punishment. It had to wait until there was something there to lose.

The Mighty let out a long sigh. "I have regrets, brother. Enough to drown in. But I do not regret being with you. Not for a moment."

"We are two souls intertwined. May it be so in the next life, too."

"Yes. But next time around, I'd like to be the smart one."

Bakool Ja Ja's arms shuddered. His chest heaved as he tried to catch himself but his arms slowly bent and folded beneath him. Beneath the weight of the earth Bakool Ja Ja was slowly forced to the ground, inch by helpless inch.

With a final, wavering exhale, the body the two pair had shared for a lifetime finally collapsed — just as the sound of a gunshot echoed back down through the rocks.

Water dripped onto Koana's face as he stumbled blindly through the narrow, half-collapsed tunnel. His bundled coat with the broken jar were still tucked under one arm. The only thing keeping him from dropping it was force of momentum, and a panic that blotted out all logical thought from his mind.

Everything was physics. Cause, effect, pressure, friction, balance and counterbalance. There had to be a way to fix this. Move the weight somewhere else, a lever, an inclined plane, a fulcrum. But he couldn't bloody see. With his aetherotransformer at full charge it provided a little light, barely enough to see a few fulms in front of his face, and all he could see were rocks and shadows.

"Leverage, I need leverage, I need to move the weight…have to…" His frantic hands were scraping themselves raw against the rough stone.

The rushing muffled sound in Koana's ears grew louder. Hard enough to think through the panic but the whispering made it impossible. Koana shook his head, clapped his hands over his ears, and it did nothing to blot the noise out. If it was the sound of running water, the tunnel must be on the verge of flooding.

With no other sounds to cover them Koana found himself finding the shape of words in their chaos, like a shrill child's voice clamouring for his attention.

—ver—

—save—

—ere over—

—ook he—

—look, loo—

With barely any light at all his eyes were playing tricks on him, making it seem as if glowing blots were dancing before his eyes. Koana stared helplessly into the darkness. The stones shifted again, collapsing the pile in further, pulling a helpless whimper from Koana's throat. His knees were scraped and his boots were wet. He had an advanced degree and a gun and nothing else.

Koana whirled, hands pressing in tighter against his head, his mind whirling with calculations holding too many unknown variables. That damnable noise rose into an emphatic wail resounding in his ears, a plainative shout that made his inner ears ring.

Look over here, housecat!

By reflex, Koana's head jerked towards the sound. His eyes frantically searching found themselves following one of the optical illusions bouncing along the ceiling. It almost seemed to be lighting up the spot on its own, though Koana couldn't see anything around it.

A trick of the mind. Wind and water and optical nerves and lightwaves and adrenaline and panic. Nothing you would make a sensible judgement with.

Charge flowed into Koana's firearm from his palm. With his eyes fixed on the dancing blot, Koana snapped his arm up, aimed, and pulled the trigger.

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Nawak @nawak.bsky.social · 25/09/2026

Pangram

Mème qui montre une palette de couleur de peau avec un dégradé du blanc vers le noir. Annotation « Flaubert » pour blanc et « IA » pour noir.

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Solaire 🔜 GATEway FATE 🐏 @solairelunaire.bsky.social · 25/09/2026

day 24 - drift the kid yves torment nexus, continued again from day 13 (bsky.app/profile/sola...). CW: cursed gridanian childhood emotional trauma, harm to animals, themes of animal death ellipsus.com/read/Vyh3rZJ... #solairewrites | #ffxivwrite2026 | #yveslore

There should have been something Yves could say to Father to make him stop, if only he were more clever, more strong, more like the sylphs of Little Solace or the robins nesting in the trees above. But he had pleaded for the summer to never end, and still winter came. He had pleaded for the elementals to say just one word to him, and still they remained silent. No one else was here except for Fig, whose glossy black eyes widened in alarm when Father lurched towards him.

The chubby ram could never hope to outrun a man who tracked and chased antelope for a living. His father yanked the sheep to the ground by the scruffy wool of his neck and rolled him on his side. With every bleat, a vice squeezed tighter around Yves's head.

"I..."

Fig's bony little legs flailed in the air.

"I don't." Yves could hardly hear himself over the grunts of the karakul, while his father pinned it down with a knee astride the body.

Father's hand wrapped around Fig's curled horn with the same firm confidence as he would pick up any chisel or axe. Its width fit perfectly in his tensed palm.

"Please!"

Only when Father's masked face tilted towards him did Yves realize he'd spoken aloud instead of mouthing his silent prayers. "What is it?"

"W-what if we go to the rites this month and it's not enough?" The ground beneath him seemed fuzzy and indistinct, as if he were staring through a heat haze. "I don't want to look—I don't want the elementals to be mad at me, they'll hate me even more. I don't want to do this any longer...!" Yves's eyes clamped shut. His body tensed and shrunk and he wanted to keep shrinking until the sound of his father's voice was as vast and meaningless as thunder. He braced himself and kept bracing.

But instead of the lash of words he expected, Father laughed. It was how the Guardian Tree might laugh, if trees could laugh—a low, groaning chuckle that raised in pitch as he let out more dry wheezes. Yves had never realized that Father could even make such a noise when the closest he ever came to laughter was letting out a few exhaled chuffs in conversations with other woodcutters.

Yves blinked and he was still there, stooped over Fig's fluttering belly, looking up beyond the sky. When his shoulders stopped shuddering, Father twisted to face Yves again.

"Do you think I wanted to do this at your age, boy? Do you believe that you or I have a choice?"

It had not truly occurred to Yves that there was a time that Father did not look or sound or act like he had for all of Yves’s short life. It had also not occurred to him that Father could have wanted not to look or sound or act like Father does, and still ended up this way.

When Yves could not answer, the man hunched over Fig's head once more and pulled it back by the horn. The way that Father’s right hand drifted over the grey skin of the sheep’s neck was gentle yet searching, fingertips sweeping for an unseen point.

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Zen 💫 @hallans.bsky.social · 25/09/2026

06. Training ✨️👑 A heartwarming sight #WolcadionWeek2026 #gpose

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Benjamin Brillaud @notabenemovies.bsky.social · 25/09/2026

Putain on marche vraiment sur la tête. Y'a zéro preuve à part un site de détection de merde et des accusations lancées par des sites douteux... Y'a quelques semaines j'étais avec John Howe (oui je me la pète) qui m'a montré qu'une de ses illustrations a été identifié 100% IA par ce genre de site...

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Darren Xirias (7.56 spoilers) @darrenxirias.bsky.social · 25/09/2026

Day 24: Drift The Wanderer’s own are always blessed to roam archiveofourown.org/works/918154... #FFXIVWrite2026 #DarrenWrites

And so it was that Zoraal Ja was drifting from job to job, from Camp Bronze Lake to the slopes of O’Ghomoro, from Costa del Sol to the Morabi Drydocks, and from Limsa Lominsa itself to the furthest reaches of the Sahagin breeding pools, his work took him across the whole land.

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Kittcat @sirkittcat.bsky.social · 24/09/2026

🐲 The dragon and the flower 💐 Magnus the Tyrantrum and Luna the Roserade - Both with the aspiration to learn ballet. An odd dream for such a big tough Pokemon, but why should appearance limit one's expression? #art #pokemon #pokemonart #pmd #tyrantrum #roserade #fanfic #oc

A Tyrantrum and a Roserade practicing a ballet routine together.

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AerialSquid - GATEway FATE bound! @aerialsquid.bsky.social · 25/09/2026

#FFXIVwrite2026 Day 24: Drift I promise I'm doing more with this one tomorrow. Nobody is allowed to get mad at me.

"Okay. We move slowly and—"

"Go," the Mighty grunted. "Before it all comes down. We are so close. Go!"

"You first, we need your strength to clear the rubble." Koana tugged at Bakool Ja Ja's arm, only to feel the Mighty nipping at his shoulder to make him stop.

"I can't," the Mighty said. His breathing was haggard. "Find the way by feel. You are a smart man."

"Why?"

A soft pair of laughters, one gentle and one rough. "Because," said the Mystic, "My brother and I are the only thing holding the roof up."

Koana's next words were a soft, helpless squeak in the darkness. All logic was obliterated in the wake of the fear clutching at his throat, tearing bloody shreds through his ribcage. Words tried to come out, plans, promises, and they became knotted together before they could exit his mouth.

The two heads bowed low and pressed Koana between them, nuzzling roughly along the length of his body. Koana grabbed them by the headdresses and dug in his fingers. He could feel the tiny cavern made by Bakool Ja Ja's body, hunched over on hands and knees to give Koana space to move, and the trembling of every muscle desperately pressing upward.

"I'm not leaving you behind!"

"I can't hold it for long. You need to get clear. Please," the Mystic whispered.

"Please," his brother chimed in. "Your sister needs you. Your people need you. Our people need you."

"Our people! You have to come with me, you have to help me see this through! I won't let this happen, I won't lose you! Not now!" Not again, not when he'd lost so many, the numbers weren't adding up, it didn't make sense, it wasn't fair!

"Go, Vow Koana."

"I need you," he said. A flat, useless thing. He was never the best at speeches.

"We know."

Koana shuddered. His eyes closed, his tail puffed, his ears flattened. Quick as wind he pressed a kiss to each forehead. And then, painfully, he tore himself away from the sensation of skin against scale, and reached out for the tunnel ahead.

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Marc Knelsen @marcknelsen.art · 25/09/2026

Some companions to assist Link~

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absolem @absolem0.bsky.social · 24/09/2026

Finished piece for Silmarwen☀️ #ffxiv

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🍰 @jofy892.bsky.social · 24/09/2026

finally been playing the ninja job questline and to no one's surprise i absolutely love this dude #ffxiv

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Darren Xirias (7.56 spoilers) @darrenxirias.bsky.social · 24/09/2026

Day 23: Egress Cutting it a bit close for today, just like our favorite duo! What’s a good heist without a last-minute escape? archiveofourown.org/works/918154... #DarrenWrites #FFXIVWrite2026

It was a quiet evening in the city of Kugane, rain falling down in a light drizzle, the people having for the most part retreated to the safety of their own abodes.

“After them! Don’t let them escape!”

Well, it should have been a quiet evening in Kugane. Alas, as was often the case when the Warrior of Light and his partner in life and in crime were involved, the situation had grown a mite more complicated.

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Darren Xirias (7.56 spoilers) @darrenxirias.bsky.social · 23/09/2026

Day 22: Train Koana needs to handle train-related paperwork. Bakool Ja Ja decides to help archiveofourown.org/works/918154... #DarrenWrites #FFXIVWrite2026

“Have you even moved from this spot since morning?”

The Mighty’s voice echoed through his office, Bakool Ja Ja’s twin heads entering to assess the situation. The twins obviously found it wanting, for they entered the room in full, tutting at Koana the gall of them.

“Bakool Ja Ja,” Koana asked in a tone he hoped was threatening but knew was more like a dead man’s groan. “I am not in the mood right now.”

“We can see that,” snarked the Mystic. “The fine people of the railways making you tear your hair out again?”

“Yes,” whined the Hhetsarro. He bumped his head over his desk, a wail of true, profound sorrow rising unbidden. “The Alexandrian side is a damn mess. They built roads in the middle of a vilekin’s nest, the insane fools!”

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AerialSquid - GATEway FATE bound! @aerialsquid.bsky.social · 24/09/2026

#FFXIVwrite2026 Day 23: Egress Bakool Ja Ja and Koana hunt for one kind of egress, and are on the verge of finding a second less pleasant kind. aerialsquid.tumblr.com/post/8286506...

Koana didn't know much about spirits, or caves, but he knew structural engineering. Sharleyan had given him a proper well-rounded education but he'd focused specifically on infrastrucutre, and that meant knowing at least the basics of how things got built. You had to understand a room to know how to build a house, and a house to understand how to build a city, and so on.

He knew that water ran downhill, and that a mine generally started at the top and went down from there. So if you went back uphill, you'd likely be heading towards the egress.

They encountered more sentries as they plowed forward, in varying stages of disrepair. It was a miracle of Yok Huy engineering that they even still functioned after so long without maintenance. Bakool Ja Ja didn't seem to share his appreciation, and did his best to disassemble them to a permanent end while Koana took pot shots from the corner.

The broken jar was a heavy, sharp weight inside the makeshift bag made from wrapping his coat into a bindle. Koana tried to ignore it. The echoing whispers of wind and running water he also tried to ignore, even as they seemed to almost form words when they bounced off the mine shaft walls. All he had to do was keep a steady head, and eyes forward, and he would surely force the world to succumb to his superior power of will.

"A light!"

"Don't look—"

"It's daylight! Look!"

Koana raced ahead to the narrow crack, barely wider than his hand, that let in a shaft of dim, blue-shaded light from the forest above. After nothing but darkness and the dim purple glow of electrope, the sight of daylight was a treasure. It was still far too narrow to climb through, but by the length and angles, they couldn't be more than a few dozen feet below ground.

Koana slid his firearm's muzzle up into the crack, angled, and shot off another flare. "We wait about a third of a bell, then we press onward," he said, turning back to Bakool Ja Ja. "If the ceiling's cracking this much this area's likely unstable, we don't want to stay too long. But we're close, we must be!"

The blue glow of the shaft of light washed over the sight of two heads letting their jaws untense in relief, one pair of broad shoulders slowly sinking. And then, a shadow, its silhouette impossible to make out from this angle, flickering back and forth across the beam of light, before it was abruptly extinguished. Clods of dirt dropped down the crack, sprinkling across Koana's head.

"What happened?" Bakool Ja Ja asked, craning his neck upward to peer in the shaft.

Koana felt tension rising in his gut, a panic he couldn't identify. The weight in his arms felt heavier than ever. "Perhaps a branch fell, or an animal passed by. Or something. We should move. But we're on the right track, I'm sure of it. If the angle we've ascended on continues, the length to the eventual surface should be—"

He talked, so that he didn't have to stay in the silence with his worries. It meant that he missed the sound of the first pebbles cracking and falling from the mine shaft wall.

And by the time the sound of falling rocks was loud enough to drown out his voice, it was already far too late.

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AerialSquid - GATEway FATE bound! @aerialsquid.bsky.social · 24/09/2026

#FFXIVwrite2026 Day 22: Train "Dolma" meets Martyn's besties. aerialsquid.tumblr.com/post/8285608...

Martyn could sleep just about anywhere. The hold of a ship, the back of a cart, the ore car of a mining train, the floor of a stable, sitting upright in a chair in the employees-only section of a crowded teahouse. Even with that, he didn’t find himself particularly rested when he woke up the next morning, still clenched tightly in Dollmaker’s arms. It had returned to Dolma’s body at some point in the night and climbed back into the bed, lying fully clothed on top of the blankets.

He begged use of the privy to get Dollmaker to release him and stumbled outside, squinting into the bright sunlight reflecting off the ocean waves directly into his personal eyeballs.

Relief came when two large forms moved to shade him from the deadly glare, only to vanish when Martyn realized who the two forms were. Frameworks of wood and leather curved in a false frill that framed thick faces with conical eyes roaming in two directions at once, set in scaly blue-purple hide. The lizard-like faces of ‘Wayward Gaheel Ja and 'Maudlin’ Latool Ja stared down at Martyn, and Martyn felt the desire to go walk into the ocean.

“You two! My good lads! What brings you out here?” Martyn asked, as if there was any possible reason they’d be here besides him. The merchants setting up their morning stalls were staring, and every guard with a blade had their eyes trained on the pair. Mamool Ja were a rare sight outside of La Noscea, and over there they were primarily mercenaries. Your average Eorzean wouldn’t know that two Boonewa traveling without Hoobigo or Doppro companions, without armor, and wearing this specific kind of frill, was the equivalent of two gangly scholars in spectacles.

“Royce said you had a big shipment to bring in,” Latool Ja said. “200 boxes seemed like a lot to bring in by yourself. We came up to help carry it.

"No, it’s 200 books, not 200 boxes - what would I do with that many spellbooks?”

Gaheel Ja shrugged. His tongue flicked out a finger’s length and smacked back into his mouth again. “When do we understand why you do things?”

“Well, you wasted a trip.”

A small, cool hand grabbed at the back of Martyn’s sleeve. Martyn turned, narrowly missing seeing the nostrils of the two Mamool Ja flare and their lips flinch back from their teeth in unison.

“Oh! These are your friends, yes? The Mamool ones? I saw them during your last fight,” Dollmaker chirped.

Tired as he was, the stiff smile was quick to snap to Martyn’s face. “Yes, these are my dear assistants from Tural. Wayward Gaheel Ja and Maudlin Latool Ja.”

“How lovely to meet you!”

Dollmaker lifted her skirts and curtsied formally. Both Mamool Ja were viewing her with suspicion, both sets of eyes entirely focused on her. With some effort, Latool Ja also forced a smile and gentle bow, with Gaheel Ja following reluctant suit.

“You didn’t tell me they were a couple,” Dollmaker said in an adoring hushed voice.

“They’re - the Ja is just what goes at the end of a person’s name, they aren’t sharing a surname.”

“Ohh, I see. And what is it you’re maudlin about, Latool Ja?”

“Nothing of consequence, nothing of consequence,” Martyn cut in again, before Latool Ja could answer. “Here, why don’t we get some breakfast. You eaten, lads? My treat, let’s get you something. Small, obviously.”

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