#Minfilia x OC

[soulesaule]

a commission from 2021 :)

[lavampira]

my homeland is in your eyes, my duty on your lips. ask anything of me, except to leave you.

[wydlads]

(count)down to dawntrail — shadowbringers.

of love that transcends time and space.

[myreia]

Sketches of Times Lost

Day Four: Reticent

minfilia cannot voice the ache that is in her heart. minfilia x female warrior of light. a realm reborn patches. written for ffxivwrites2024. rating: general. 964 words ao3 link

Evening has long since fallen when Minfilia leaves the solar.

Body aching from a day spent at her desk, she nudges the heavy door open and slips through, careful to close it soundlessly behind her. Though most of the Scions—faces new and old—will have retired to their homes for the night, there is often someone lingering in the main hall playing a game of Triple Triad or relaxing with a drink. She would hate to disturb them.

She pads down the hall, the hem of her skirt whispering against the flagstones, her footsteps echoing hollowing in her ears. It has been months and still she has not adjusted to it. Compared to their former headquarters, the Rising Stones is a veritable fortress, cold and dark and deep. Windows are few and far between, and the ones that are there give in so little light the base may as well be subterranean. She misses the bright Thanalan vistas and the fresh breeze rolling off the bay. For all its safety and security, the Rising Stones feels, at times, like a self-imposed cage.

“You’re working late.”

Her pace slows to a stop, her heart fluttering. A chair scrapes against the stone and a moment later the Warrior of Light rounds an empty table and steps out of the shadows. Aureia Malathar is much as she always is—solid and stern, her body moving with the grace of one accustomed to combat, her gaze curious and sharp. She rarely misses a thing, though gods know she is keen to keep her observations to herself.

“‘Tis not unduly late,” Minfilia says. “The final bell has not yet struck.”

Aureia’s lips quirk. “That’s late, Minfilia.”

“Then I suppose what qualifies as late is not unusual for me.”

“I… can’t argue with that.” She trails off and raises her head, her dark red eyes meeting hers. Despite her controlled expression, even she cannot hide her exhaustion. This is the not first time Minfilia has come across her late at night, often with a drink in hand. She doubts she has been sleeping well—her face is tired, the dark circles beneath her eyes more prominent than ever, the red in her black hair faded and dull. Haunted, is the word. Haunted by the ghosts of the past, by the visions of the future.

It has been this way since the Praetorium.

“Is everything all right?” Aureia asks. “You should get some rest. We all need our sleep. Our leaders most of all.”

Minfilia glances away, a flush on her cheeks. Perhaps it would be unfair of her to point out that she is scolding her for the very thing Aureia needs herself. Fools, the pair of them. Their strengths and talents may lie in very different places, but they are more similar than either of them would admit. Pushing too hard, stubborn to a fault. Incapable of regular sleep.

“I will sleep when I can,” she says evenly, already cringing within at the awkward choice of words. Why is it that she so often fails to hold a proper conversation with her? It seems she has always had this effect on her. No matter the topic of their conversation, Aureia’s presence leaves her comforted and calmed—and uncertain of every word she speaks. “I admit, I often focus better at night. I feel a clarity of mind once the sun has set, as if a weight has been lifted from my shoulders.”

“Me, too.” Aureia shifts her weight and places a hand against the back of a nearby chair, running her palm across the polished wood. “I used to tell my brother once the world sleeps, I can finally think because everyone spouting nonsense has stopped talking.”

“You… have a brother?”

“Had.” Her voice drops, quiet and strained. “He’s dead.”

“I’m sorry.”

“…thank you.” The steel in her voice speaks to something else, a secret buried deep. She exhales a breath, and it is not sadness or anger or fear or any of the deep emotional weight carried by those who lost loved ones to the Calamity. It is something else. “Look,” she continues, taking a step back. “It’s late. I should—”

Minfilia catches her hand. “Would you walk with me?” she asks in earnest. “If you cannot sleep and I cannot sleep, perhaps the fresh air of night would do both of us some good.”

Aureia eyes widen. She pauses, her hand soft and warm, her pulse beating frantically beneath the pad of Minfilia’s thumb where it rests against her wrist. For a moment, chance—hopeful, bright, and keen—opens its wondrous doors with a promise of something new. Something sweet. Something good.

She lets go.

The doors shut.

“I really need to get some sleep,” Aureia says. “I’m supposed to meet the Sons of Saint Coinach tomorrow morning.”

Minfilia nods. “Of course.”

“Goodnight, Minfilia.”

“Goodnight.”

Aureia slips away, the last of the Scions to leave for the night, and Minfilia is now alone in a dark and silent hall. She takes a step, pacing across the cobblestones, cold air prickling the back of her neck as she watches the shadows dance across the walls. The ceilings stretch high above her, wide and cold and lonely, even as the walls press in on her with their cavernous weight.

Her heart aches. There will be plenty of further opportunities to spend in Aureia’s company, and yet she cannot help but feel like something has slipped through her fingers. If she had but given voice to the secret that lies in the centre of her heart, the secret she has barely come to acknowledge herself, would she perhaps have…?

It is a question that does not have an answer. Cannot have an answer.

It is better this way.

[astrology-bf]

The Eleventh Hour

(CW: Death Mention, Depression, Spoilers for Heavensward and post-Heavensward)

Power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely.

These words are very oft repeated as if they are known fact: that no person, however good or strong of character, can resist the insidious temptation to fall into depravity the instant they are offered any semblance of authority. One need only pick up a history book for evidence of that, at least according to the view of those who hold the maxim to be true. 

The trap, however, is that this conclusion leads to the assumption that power has some fundamental evil to it and that, like any sin, it must be avoided entirely if possible and punished with self-flagellation if it must be acquired by necessity. Power, in truth, does not corrupt: it reveals . Power is an avenue by which the costs of action may be buffered or externalized, and it is simply that the people who tend to be most intent on acquiring power tend to be those same folk possessed of traits that make them likely to abuse it. That makes it all the more important that people of good character understand the necessity of acquiring at least some degree of power, lest people of bad character be left unattended with their hands on history’s wheel. As the doctor put it: power without love is reckless and abusive, and love without power is sentimental and anemic. 

The Warrior of Light was quite a powerful man indeed, to the degree that even those who weren’t Garlean had questioned his humanity at points: though he would not look it, nor did he believe himself to be so. His reserves of aether weren’t exceptional for a mage, nor was he educated at the Studium in Sharlayan. He had a knack for working out the function and intent behind a spell, that much was true, but what made Ifan stand out was the magician’s sheer ambition to master every aspect of the arcane and use it for the benefit of others and the world. Touching magic’s pinnacle was the central driver of his life, the reason why he’d even set out as an adventurer to begin with, and raw drive combined with excellent ability to visualize an outcome gave him the edge he needed to excel - the makings of the man he was today.

Ifan wasn’t sure who that man was at present, nor did he feel powerful at all. He simply sat and stared at Syrcus Tower in the distance, slightly slumped where he was atop one of the higher watchtowers of Revenant’s Toll. Strangely thankful for the bruises on his face, their throbbing as an anchor in the mire of his mind.

She was gone. Gone for good. So was he.

There had been a brief moment when he’d watched Y’shtola shimmer into view as she was rescued from the lifestream where Ifan had allowed himself to think that everything might somehow return to normal. Even if Ysayle and Haurchefant had given both their lives, Estinien had been rescued against all the odds as well. Perhaps there was a chance that he’d just wake up from everything that had happened since Nanamo had taken that first and final sip, or even further back when Lahabrea had…

He sighed.

Minfilia was gone. Ifan still remembered how she’d looked at him inside the aqueduct, when he’d begged her not to leave him: she was angry. Not at him. At how many times she’d had to send him into danger, often by himself. That’s why she’d stayed, Ifan believed, at least in part - to repay him. The guilt of that was partly why it hurt so much right now that she was… truly gone. Given herself to the Mothercrystal’s service as the Oracle of Light, now vanished to the First to rescue it from its impending end. With the Warriors of Darkness. With Ardbert.

She’d granted him and Ardbert a few moments by themselves before he’d left, gods bless her. Long enough for them to kiss and say farewell, though they didn’t speak the words that Ifan only realized after that he was brave enough to be the first to say. Ardbert was gone, along with all his friends. For good. 

The worst part of the whole thing was that Ifan couldn’t mourn for Ardbert openly, as that would need him to confess to fraternizing with someone who was previously an enemy. The other Scions might have understood, or some of them at least, but even then Ifan felt that what he and Ardbert had was something special, something private. That events of late were so chaotic as to deny him even idle time to mourn in private didn’t help things. Nor did what happened with Thancred.

To call the argument nasty would have been an understatement. They’d both been in deep, deep pain from their recent losses, and idle jabs had escalated into mutual lashing out. In anger, the rogue had brought up Haurchefant and claimed Ifan didn’t do enough to save him or Minfilia (though his words weren’t quite so civil) - Y’shtola raised her voice in an effort to end matters, but Ifan had struck first. What followed was a violent brawl that was briefly broken up by Hoary Boulder until Ifan, sharp-tongued as ever, had the final word: to mock Thancred for killing him whilst Lahabrea piloted his body. That had been enough to end it. Both men had walked away to cool their heads.

Thancred. Haurchefant. G’raha Tia, too, given Ifan currently gazed at where the man he’d been ready to commit to had sealed himself away. Perhaps that’s why he hadn’t said the words to Haurchefant, or even Ardbert. But he couldn’t blame him, as Ifan was no better - perhaps that’s why Estinien had left, as well. 

Cursed by Menphina. No, by Hydaelyn. Not even by Her, by himself. It had been his choice to heed Her call, when he’d touched that crystal underneath the Sultantree what seemed like years ago. Before then he’d been Ifan Kaleid: just a silly, smart-mouthed mage that picked adventuring to fund a path of self-study to touch the pinnacle of magic. He barely remembered what it felt like to be him. 

Not that he cared what he felt.  

"Not a good idea, that." warned Fray, standing with his arms crossed in the shadows by the watchtower’s door. 

Ifan didn’t move. "I don't care." he answered, quiet and even.

Fray huffed. "That so?" His eyes were fixed on Ifan’s back like yellow pyrelights broken up with points of pitch. 

"Aye. There's no point." said Ifan with a slow and lazy nod, still looking at the Tower.

"There's always a point." Fray countered in a dark riposte. 

Ifan closed his eyes and grit his teeth. He huffed. "And is that point worth all this? Worth having to lose everyone?" the magician asked.

"You know the answer."

Silence. The mage’s eyes cracked open slowly, face set into a frown of resignation. "...It doesn't feel like it." he said.

"How does it feel?" said Fray, as if Ifan were a toddler being taught letters. 

Ifan exhaled in annoyance. "I don't know." he growled.

"Exactly. Know the feeling." Fray lectured with a small, sharp nod.

"Enough!” Ifan exclaimed, turning his head to glare at Fray with his teeth bared. “I've had enough of your godsdamned drivel. Just shut up!" he demanded.

Fray gave no answer. Ever still and silent as a corpse.

Ifan panted for a few moments before letting out a painful gasp, almost a sob. He closed his eyes and shook his head. "Just go away. I've had enough." he pleaded.

Fray’s eyes narrowed. "Have you no ambition?" he asked. There was a strange and sudden coldness to his tone, as if a burning brand was suddenly quenched in blackened ice.

The magician shook his head and turned his gaze back to Syrcus Tower. "No. I gave that up when I became the Warrior of Light, like I gave up any shot at love. I'm just a tool, now." he lamented.

Fray simply stared at Ifan with his eyes narrowed. The sunniness within his gaze had vanished, taking on a rather sickly hue, gold verging upon green as he watched the man in white. After a long silence, the dark knight spoke again. “...That so?” Though he used his usual tone and volume, the words rang out across the space between the two of them like trumpets at a triumph.

Ifan bristled at this and snapped his head back to glare at Fray. "Why the fuck do you care?" he swore back at the man in black, his face twisted up in grief so as to betray his lack of willingness to fight.

Another silence settled for a moment before Fray straightened up. His arms uncrossed, and he met the man in white with an almost injured gaze. "Have you no love for yourself?" For the first time that they’d met, it seemed to be a question that the dark knight had no answer to. No clever scheme, no grand design. Genuine, vulnerable curiosity, watching Ifan and waiting for His Answer.

"I don't see what the fuck that has to do with anything!" snarled Ifan, before he turned his back and proceeded to ignore the man in black.

Fray closed his eyes. Six seconds passed… Then seven. Then he nodded. His eyes opened, and stared at Ifan where the man in white was seated for a moment before he turned around himself and marched away, each click of dark-forged steel upon the stones a drum beat on the march to conquest. "Exactly."

[enchantedrepose]

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ꜰᴏᴜʀ [ꜱʜᴀᴅᴏᴡʙʀɪɴɢᴇʀꜱ]

    𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓉𝑜𝓌𝓃 𝒸𝑒𝓇𝓉𝒶𝒾𝓃𝓁𝓎 𝒽𝒶𝓈 𝒸𝒽𝒶𝓃𝑔𝑒𝒹.

        ...𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝒶𝓉 𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒷𝑒𝓉𝓉𝑒𝓇.

[emc2beans]

It’s tough to get close to people in their line of work, since the threat of losing someone is always just around the corner. Minfilia x Gwynedd, oral sex, canon loss

I wrote this. It's smut lol.

Enjoy.

[the-hawkeyes]

Changed Katie's eye color a bit to make it more blue-green and lighter. Had to cheat cause the base FF doesn't allow for quite what I was looking for.

So have Katie being smooth and telling a little joke after coming back from some tasks

[unbreakable-oaths]

Au Ra August Day 26- Nostalgia

Nanamo had asked her once, after the world was saved, if she remembered the tunnels under Ul’dah.

How could she forget? That was where her and Minfilia’s last kiss was- the last place she saw her alive.

The world moved on, she moved on, but some days she still wished for those days to come again- to get one last kiss goodbye.

[final-fixation-xiv]

Final Isekai XIV

I'm the author of a ridiculously oversized (and growing) Final Fantasy XIV fic with the extremely creative name Final Isekai XIV. It follows my isekai protagonist WoL, Valhra Elst-ven, a genderfluid enby who is sent to Eorzea to save it in a world where the original WoL died at Carteneau.

In the process, they become embroiled in the plots and politics of a slightly different Eorzea - an Eorzea where a different Ascian took the lead following the Calamity, where Minfilia stepped in the shoes of the WoL for the desperate years since their fall, and where a thousand changes ripple out from there.

There is a big focus on the female characters who I wanted to see more from during the MSQ - right now, that means Y'shtola and Minfilia, both of whom are involved, to various degrees, in Val's growing wolycule, as well as Alisaie, and eventually Moebryda and Ysayle.

Rated M, with no explicit sexual content, it's a novelistic reinterpretation of a plot I love dearly but definitely don't think is unimpeachable, and as of this writing, it's broken 20 chapters and 150k words, and if any of that sounds interesting, you can check it out here~

[elveny]

25 Who said "I love you" first? For Kay/Minfy

For the Couple Questions! | Thanks, Lyn ♥

You know the tragic thing about that?

It was Minfilia. In the tunnels, when Kay refused to leave her at Hydaelyn's call. It was her last, desperate whisper to get Kay to go save herself. It worked. And for a while afterwards, Kay hated Minfilia a little bit (not really, but... there was a lot of pain and hurt). She never forgave Hydaelyn - and was immensely glad when she got to say it back to Minfilia on the First. It also was a goodbye, but at least she got to say it.

[redwayfarers]

logged into xiv for the first time in a hot second and the soft hyur ship feelings resurfaced like a tidal wave

[lavampira]

do you picture me like I picture you? am I in the frame from your point of view?

[carbuncleinawig]

"You requested to know of of my progess... Y'shtola and I have yet to make headway on the mystery of my empty mind. I meet with Thancred soon to investigate the situation of Thanalan."

"Y'shtola has a great mind, and she has my utmost trust."

"Believe in us, Aurele. Believe in yourself. You are a great boon to the Scions. Though your mind may escape you, your efforts do not go unnoticed."

"I... thank you, Minfilia."

[eemamminy-art]

fanfic ask game! 14, 15, 44 😊🧡

14. Go on, who are your BroTPs?

I dooon't know if this is something I'd call a brotp in the sense of like bro kinda vibes, but I assume by that terminology it's just like, characters I like to imagine as good friends? And the first thing that comes to mind for me is this AU my friend and I have where Emet hides Ryne away from Hydaelyn and she ends up becoming a little sister to Zenos 🥺 When I'm thinking about platonic characters that's where my mind first goes!!

For something a little less deeply obscure and uncanon though haha I like the friendship between Vrtra and Estinien, or the potential friendship anyway, and I would like to one day write a fic of Estinien helping Vrtra get through the emotional rollercoaster of 6.X patches. In his awkward, very Estinien way.

I don't know if this counts either but I love to think about all the friendships my wol has. He has a brotherly sort of relationship with Thancred and with the thaumaturge guild masters, and a very complicated friendship with Haurchefant. Minfilia was his best friend and he's still very torn up over everything that happened to her. I want to think he was pretty close with Lyse and tries to mentor Emmanellain (even though he's just as immature himself lol) too. I pretty rarely ship oc/canon with my own OCs but I love to think of their friendships and found family!!

15. Is there an obscure ship which you love?

Like… any f/f ship in ffxiv… They're all obscure 😭 Notably I really really like Fordola/Lyse, Ysayle/Heustienne, and M'naago/Kurenai to name a few off the top of my head. I also really like Hien/Yugiri but like, if Hien was a butch.

44. What ship do you feel needs more attention?

This might sound weird but I feel like the more attention a ship gets the more people get weirdly hostile toward it (for being perceived as popular, or genuinely becoming popular), or otherwise start diluting the ship down to something generic. I used to really crave seeing more works from other people about ships I like but lately I'm just kind of like, let me keep them to myself and my trusted group of friends who can be normal about things 😂

Fanfiction questions

[miqo-tales]

15. What places hold significant meaning or memories for your OC? Do they have a positive or negative association with those places?

Oh there's a few:

Limsa Lominsa, cause it's her home.

Marie's home in Gridania, which doubles as their Free Company's base.

The Chocobo Forest, cause it's more or less her second home. It's a mix of positive and negative there because she spent most of 3.x around there and had a lot of good and bad experiences.

Nabaath Areng in Amh Araeng where Minfilia stopped the Flood of Light. That's mostly negative cause she saw Ardbert's perspective of it, and that's also where Anya died.

The ruins of Amaurot. Nothing positive there.

Two in Garlemald. The first being Jullus' house, because the Echo showed her what happened to his family. The second being the spot during "In From the Cold" where you help non-tempered Garleans fight off tempered ones and it ends poorly.

S'era will never go to Vanaspati again.

And all of Ultima Thule. Another mix of good and bad.