#ffxiv shadowbringers 5.0 spoilers

[thetinyscald-blog]

Countless memories and moments I took for granted...

Gods, you grew up so fast.

[jqupohtia]

HIM

[myreia]

— v. raison d'être

It was never going to last. They knew it from the beginning, all of them. Their time in the First was temporary, fleeting. For some, that would have been enough to give pause, to keep distance. For them, it made these moments all the more precious—even when it was difficult, even when it was unfair. Ryne knows they are both proud of her. That will never change, even when they live in separate worlds. It is a bittersweet thing to say goodbye, to close one chapter and begin the next. But change is necessary, a fundamental aspect of life. There is no sense in clinging to the past when the future—with all its countless possibilities—lies ahead. There is no looking back. Only forwards.

[kulvefaggoth]

It's fucking bullshit there's not a single rain of blood during Stormblood. That means Stormblood is the only ffxiv release that lies to you.

Like. Final Fantasy XIV Online. Sure was an online game. Sucked shit so they nuked it. So then comes Final Fantasy XIV: A Realm Reborn. The game was rebuilt that realm sure was reborn. Both in the meta and also in the text.

Now Final Fantasy XIV: Heavensward. There's like two floating continents we go to the alliance raids were about sky pirates litcherally the expansion that added flight as a mechanic. We sure fucking went Heavensward.

Final Fantasy XIV: Shadowbringers. Your quest is literally shadowbringing. You banish the eternal light and bring back the night. Technically you're the only one really shadowbringing but your friends are helping so they're shadowbringers too.

Final Fantasy XIV: Endwalker. Hey remember that quest. Yeah that quest. At the literal end of the expansion. Where you're forced to walk. Not run. Not fly. You HAVE to walk to the end. You get a status called endwalker. The quest you get after that is the final quest. Endwalker. They were not fucking subtle about that.

So i find that it's total BULLSHIT that Final Fantasy XIV: Stormblood only has a metaphorical storm of fucking blood. "Ooooh a war is kinda like a storm of blood shed" don't come to me with that crap. You're the people who made the flight expansion be named "expansion where you literally go to the sky". Was it too much trouble have ONE scene with red rain? At least a little river of blood? I thought you guys were professionals but apparently i'm dealing with the fucking syrcus CIRCUS here. Unbelievable...

[opteekaal]

My contributions for the G'raha Zine. I've censored the one for the NSFW part of the Zine but still it's under the cut just in case.

[storms-path]

Amaurot, The Dead Ends and Conviction

I’ve been thinking a bit lately about the final dungeons of Shadowbringers and Endwalker, and how they’re ultimately a last, desperate attempt on each expansion’s villain to convince you of the righteousness of their cause.

Amaurot is a story of a world gone mad. A story of the immense and horrifying efforts that its inhabitants went to in order to save it, and (left unsaid) the story of the scars it left on the survivors and their inability to escape them. In revealing all of this to you, Emet-Selch is baring his soul and sole motivation to you, showing you the infinite depths of his sincerity in his desire to bring back his people.

But this is also his final attempt to get through to you, to make you understand just why you should give up and let him win. Surely your feeble attempts at rising above your mediocrity cannot compare to the greatness of the ancients! Surely you now understand just how vital it is that you relinquish your people to help him save his own! It’s a cheap, hollow ploy, a final dagger to level at you as he finally runs out of cards to play. But it won’t stop you.

Meteion, on the other hand, has seen it all before. Time and time again. Hers is not an attempt to sway you into saving anything, quite the opposite. She knows deep in her soul that every civilisation is doomed from the start to crumble into dust or self-destruct. The universe is a graveyard, screaming proof of her argument with a chorus of dead worlds. Why bother fighting at all? Why give your all when you’ll only be met with silence and wasted energy?

But already you’ve seen the cracks in her mask. Your friends and allies gave their very souls to prove otherwise, to convince you to keep walking despite the odds. And the very man who once tried to break your spirit and soul came to your aid and rekindled the hope in your breast and in hers. Her once unshakeable conviction is wavering, and the Dead Ends are her scrambling to put the mask back in its place, to convince herself and you that hers is the only way. End the cycle of suffering once and for all, join her in the song that will end life itself. But that song is not yours to sing.

The parallels are fairly obvious. Two antagonists pushed to the brink, their once invincible conviction suddenly tested and found wanting, making one last effort to make you stop. But neither one understands what pushes the Warrior of Light forward. Neither one can accept the need in your heart to stand tall and walk on. For those you have lost. For those you can yet save.

[picaroroboto]

i'm just being a little wierd about the Exarch's crystal arm. well my tank main WoL really lives and breathes chivalric devotion so why shouldn't he get a hand kiss scene with the liege he serves

[exploringcastleoblivion]

Junelezen 2024 - Day 14: Waystop

Stopping by the Watcher's Palace on the way to Bestways Burrow

[amememightywarrior]

I HAVE A POLL FOR YOU

[alastryd]

somehow he’s gotten even angrier, godbless

[pangolinheart]

FFXIVWrite 2023 DAY 21 - GRAVE

Tesleen's death was difficult for everyone at the Inn at Journey's Head, and it was especially difficult for Alisaie. Despite feeling shaken herself, Rhiki takes it upon herself to do something for both of her friends.

(I can't take any credit for this one! It was a suggestion by several people in the FFXIV OC Swap Discord channel! I really appreciate all of the help!)

Rating: Teen Genre: Angst, hurt/comfort Characters: Alisaie Leveilleur, Warrior of Light (Z'rhiki Irhi) Word Count: 2,124 Content Warnings: Mentions of character death, mentions of body horror

Z’rhiki’s face was damp. It was damp with sweat, from the perpetual heat of the day as Mord Souq’s unforgiving, ever-present sun loomed overhead; with condensation, rising out of the cauldron as steam and clinging to her face as she hovered over it; and with tears, still slipping down her cheeks. Frustrated, she groped blindly beside her for the dishrag. Finally catching it in her fingers after a few probing attempts, she used it for what felt like the twentieth time to violently scrub the moisture from her face until her skin burned from the friction. Sniffling, she discarded the scrap of cloth once more and leaned back over the pot to check its contents. Good color, good aroma, good consistency. After another similarly disorganized scrabble for her ladle, she dipped it into the stew and brought it back up to taste. She hoped the saltiness came from the added ingredients and wasn't just the residual taste of her own tears, but if it did, it was perfect. She carefully removed it from the cookfire and began the process of cleaning up her culinarian accoutrements. She focused on breathing deeply and allowed the methodical motions of wiping and re-packing her items, then of portioning out the stew, to calm her so that she could keep her composure upon returning to the Inn.

With her supplies stored, the waste discarded, and the stew in thermoses lining her satchel, there was nothing to do but begin the short trek back.

It took her a few minutes to locate Alisaie after reaching the camp and setting aside her gear. She found her off to the side, in the shade of one of the massive stone crags that sheltered the camp. She was sitting with her knees hugged loosely to her chest, staring plaintively at the sandy ground in front of her but somehow giving the impression that she was looking at something much further away. Her eyes were rimmed with red, and Rhiki could see the salty trails of drying tears. She was sure her own face looked not much better, skin stinging and irritated from both the blazing sun and her incessant rubbing. Alisaie was no longer crying (and might deny that she ever had been, despite the obvious evidence), but the distant stare wasn’t much of an improvement.

Rhiki crouched down beside her. She reached out and gently touched the girl’s shoulder, causing Alisaie to at last tear her eyes away from the sand and look up at her.

“How are you holding up?” Rhiki asked softly.

Alisaie must have suddenly remembered the tearstains on her face because she reached up to wipe them away with one of her sleeves. “I’m… I’m alright." She inhaled shakily. "I checked on the patients, I helped gather and wash linens, I changed sheets and bandages, I sorted the larder, I carried supplies, I chased off some scissorjaws – I’ve done everything there is to do!” Cracks were forming in her voice as she spoke, “And it’s still not enough! Not even close! How can it ever be, when…”

Rhiki nodded, understanding. The grief was always easier when there was something to do. It was always there, lurking in the periphery, but at least if you were busy you could keep it at a distance. When there was nothing left to do, though, it would catch right back up to you. Alisaie had been in a frenzy, doing chores and running errands, ever since they had arrived back at the Inn at Journey’s Head to deliver the news of what had ultimately become of Tesleen – that her soul had been set free, and that the eater that consumed her would no longer tarnish her memory. It was partly to keep busy, Rhiki knew; focusing on the ways she could help so that she didn’t have to think about all the ways she couldn’t. But she suspected it was also Alisaie’s way of making up for Tesleen’s absence. Tesleen had always been hard at work around the Inn, performing whatever tasks were asked of her with a smile. Neither of them could replicate the glow her presence brought to the camp, but perhaps they could lighten the workload, at least for a time.

They couldn’t stay forever, though, and Rhiki had known that, at her frenetic pace, Alisaie would sooner or later run out of duties to perform. In anticipation of that, she had assigned herself a duty. It was small, but she hoped that it might ease Alisaie’s heart a bit. Her friend cared so much, and hurt all the more for it. But she never let the hurt stop her from caring. She deserved to have someone care for her every once in a while.

“C’mon,” She said, giving Alisaie’s shoulder a pat. “I’ve got something to show you.”

“Can it wait? I’m not really in the mood.” Rhiki could understand that. She was exhausted; they both were. She was weary and heartsick and fraying at the edges. Which was why it couldn’t wait.

That, and the stew would get cold.

Rhiki shook her head. “No, it can’t. But it won’t take long, I promise.”

Alisaie regarded her warily, but seemed to recognize the earnestness in Rhiki’s voice and in her eyes, and sighed. “Alright, then. What is it you have to show me?”

Rhiki stood and extended a hand to Alisaie, helping her to her feet. She led her by that hand out of the encampment and around the Inn’s outer edge. The sun still raged overhead, the heat making the air around them shimmer and warp. Even with the loosely-packed sand slowing their progress, though, it was not a long walk.

Soon, they reached a peaceful stretch of sand from which one could clearly see the standing stones that formed the walls of the Inn. Rhiki slowed, then stopped, and Alisaie stopped with her. She released Alisaie’s hand, and looked at the girl as the girl looked at her meager creation.

“Rhiki, what have you…” Alisaie trailed off. Rhiki was immediately self-conscious about the jagged, flat-faced stone she had salvaged from one of the nearby Nabaath ruins. Oh gods. This had been a foolish idea, she thought. She had totally overstepped, and hadn't even done a very good job. Why had she ever thought she should show this to anyone, let alone Alisaie?

It was just a piece of crumbling wall, but it was the nicest piece she could find, with one of its surfaces still smooth enough to carve on. She had spent hours trying to chisel a message into it, which had left her pouring sweat, with cracked palms and a sharp ache in her back. She had made her very best effort but, not having the proper tools for engraving stone on hand, her inscription had ended up rather crude, with its letters inconsistently sized and spaced. Though it was hardly a masterpiece, she was happy it was at least legible. Alisaie confirmed this when she said:

“This is for Tesleen, isn’t it?”

Her eyes followed the path of the chisel across the stone’s face.

TESLEEN

WE ALL DESERVE HAPPINESS, WHEREVER WE CAN FIND IT

Rhiki nodded reluctantly. It was for Tesleen, the kind and caring soul who had made them stew on Rhiki’s first night in Ahm Arang. Who had brought comfort to so many in the last days, even the last moments of their lives. Who opened her heart to the patients of the Inn with the full knowledge that at the end of their stay she would have to help them embark on the next leg of their journey. Who would see them off with a smile and the taste of their favorite food.

It was for Tesleen, but it was also for Alisaie. Her dear friend. The girl who strove with all of her might to make a difference, even a small one. The girl who tried, and tried, and tried, and kept trying when others lost hope – because even if it was hopeless, it was still better to try. The girl who cared so much it hurt. The girl who had grabbed her hands in front of the Aftcastle in Limsa Lominsa and begged Rhiki not to leave her alone.

They both deserved so much better than a chipped hunk of stone with a sloppily carved message in the middle of the godsforsaken desert. They deserved better than anything she would ever be able to give them. But at least she could give them this, what little it was.

“I-I know it’s not very good! I tried really hard, but you know my handwriting is terrible, even on parchment! I know that she should have something nicer – and maybe one day, when we fix all of this, we can make something better!” She could feel her words start to catch in her throat. “I know it’s not a proper grave, but one of the other carers - Willfort, I think – said that she cared about this sort of thing – about giving people the chance to say their goodbyes. So I just thought….”

She could feel the hot tears starting to form under her eyes. Alisaie had her face turned away, towards the stone, but suddenly Rhiki saw her shoulders begin to shake. She grabbed Rhiki’s hand again and squeezed. Her long braid jerked back and forth as she shook her head fervently. “No, no it’s not- I just- I…” Alisaie took a deep breath and tried again, this time looking into Rhiki’s eyes, tears already sliding from the corners of her own, “I think she would like it.”

Rhiki grabbed Alisaie and pulled her into a firm hug, feeling her shudder as she tried and failed to contain a sob. She held her there, and after a moment Alisaie returned the hug. She buried her face against Rhiki to hide tears that now fell freely, and Rhiki reached up with one hand to stroke her hair soothingly, though she had to sniff to force back her own weeping. She wasn’t sure how long they stood there, only that she didn’t let go until Alisaie finally stilled, and eventually pulled away on her own. She looked like she was about to say something, but Rhiki spoke first.

“Here, I- It’s not just the stone. There’s something else.” She dropped her hands from where they had come to rest on Alisaie’s shoulders to open the flap of her satchel and pull out one of the metal thermoses she had stored there. Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she carefully unscrewed the lid and placed the open container at the base of Tesleen’s memorial.

Alisaie was sniffling so much Rhiki doubted she could really smell anything, but she had obviously gotten a glimpse of the contents, because she almost laughed.

“Is that… stew?!”

Rhiki nodded again. “Yeah.”

“Rhiki do you have any idea how hot it is out here in the sun?” Alisaie’s voice teetered between laughter and more crying.

“I know!” Rhiki said, “But… I don’t know what Tesleen’s favorite food was. And this was what the three of us ate together when I first arrived… though it is a lot cooler in the shade…” She shook her head. “It’s a bit late now but… that’s what they do here, right? Send people on their way with the taste of happier days?”

This time it was Alisaie’s turn to nod, and her eyes welled up again as though she was about to lapse back into sobs.

“I brought some for us, too,” Rhiki continued hastily, fishing the additional thermoses out of the bag. “So, you know, we could share it. But you’re right, it’s scorching out here, so maybe we should just take it back to-“

Alisaie seized the soup and wrested it from her grip before she could finish. “No! I- I mean, you made it for us to share, didn’t you? So, l-let’s have a little of it here, shall we?”

“Okay.” Rhiki relented and took up her own container. “I, uh, forgot to bring forks or spoons, so you’ll just kinda have to….” She mimed tipping the thermos up as if to drink from it, and Alisaie laughed, though still had to pause to sniff the mucus from her sinuses. She did as Rhiki had indicated and tipped some of the stew into her mouth.

“Is it good?” Rhiki asked before she had even had enough time to chew, and had to wait for a reply.

After swallowing, Alisaie glanced back at her. “It’s great,” she said, taking a deep, quivering breath. “It’s perfect. All of it. Thank you Rhiki. Really, Thank you.”

Rhiki smiled fondly at her “It’s the least I could do. For either of you.”

[starrysnowdrop]

The girl who was named after the ocean travels to the bottom of the ocean and sees all its wonders up close and personal. 🌊🐬

[kcucretsulf]

Tesleen, the Forgiven

Holminster Switch - Level 71 Dungeon - Patch 5.0 Shadowbringers

[duskmother]

To The First

[raelly-writing]

Heartsick (Thancred/WoL, 5.0)

Short thing. I've wanted to revisit this idea for a while, but struggled with the weirdness that is writing dreams.

----

Pale moonlight spilled into the room, casting her in its soft glow.

“To good friends,” Viana said as she raised a wine glass to him.

Was that what they were?

Something in his heart tugged at the notion, a foolish longing for that which lay beyond him. How easily his resolution to not admit to what lay deep in his heart became muddled with a simple touch - his hand brushing over hers, bare skin against skin, as he took the glass from her.

"To good friends," he echoed.

Twelve, she looked ethereal bathed in the moonlight. Or was it the light of the mother crystal that had wrapped itself around Her champion like the finest of silken dresses?

Unprotected. Vulnerable. Relaxed.

Marred by the closely guarded sorrow he saw in her smile and eyes.

It mirrored what he hid in his own heart. Wonder if she too felt the bitter taste of regret on her tongue?

For those they have lost…

“I miss you,” he rasped out.

Viana tilted her head to the side, a rueful smile on her lips. “Then why did you leave me?”

An invisible force pulled at him, threatening to tear him away from her once more. Quickly, he reached out for her, drawing her closer as the stars danced around them, crowning her head. “I had no choice,” he whispered. “But you found me. You always seem to.”

She laughed softly as she slipped her arms over his shoulders, stardust twinkling in her dark green eyes. The sounds of the victory celebrations below them faded away - nothing else mattered than them, here and now.

Always drawn to her light, like a hapless moth to flame. Leaning forward, he heeded that call and slanted his lips over hers. There was no taste of bitter regret lingering on her lips, only the sweet satisfaction of her soft sigh of contentment as they together fell back against the rooftop, hidden from the view of the people below. Moonlight silks slipped between his fingers as he bared her body to his questing hands, and by the gods, in his arms she was as though made of fire.

He lost himself in her and her warmth, the divine light of her blessing burning away the black ice in his heart, leaving him adrift with just her amidst a sea of stars-

________

Thancred jerked upright, one hand shooting out to his side to grasp the familiar hilt of his gunblade.

No threat met his vigilant gaze - not even the flutter of wings from a retreating pixie. In the serene stillness of the Bookman’s Shelves he could hear the distant tinkling laughter of the winged menaces, most likely up to mischief somewhere else in the manor.

Sighing, he fell back against the bed and stared blankly up at the roof. He was in the guestroom of Urianger’s home. Il Mheg. The First.

Far away from the Source.

Thancred clenched his jaw as he screwed his eyes shut, but it did nothing to dispel the lingering fragments of the dream. A stubborn, familiar longing ached in his heart. 

Four years had passed since he last saw her, and still he could perfectly recall that brief smile they’d exchanged, right before the Exarch’s call had hit them. One moment he’d been there, and the next…

Unlike his dream self, he did taste the bitter regret on his tongue as the memory inevitably brought others to the surface - of quiet moments they’d spent together, her wry chuckles and dry quips to his habitual flirting, the intense look in her eyes when they were in the midst of sparring… Those memories were more soft around the edges, but no less dear to him. Despite it, his heart was a knot of conflicting emotions he did not want to untangle and examine further. Exhaling slowly, he rubbed his hand over his face.

It was just homesickness. And concern for a dear friend that had been left alone amidst a raging war.

Nothing more.

His heart and dreams be damned.

“That’s what is for the best, after all,” he murmured into the silence of his room.

[smallest-turtle]

WAIT WHAT HAPPENS TO MAGGIE IN THE DARK END LIKE- WHO DID MAGGIE GET PASSED DOWN TO MY PET MAGITEC REAPER MAGGIE