#warrior of light/lyna

[suites]

getting grandma’d at the ripe old age of 24

[haunted-xander]

tbh one of, if not my absolute favorite part about ffxiv, is the small little moments/sections where nothing super big or like. Plot Important happens, but that give both the characters and us, the players, some much appreciated down-time to just. Feel things. And to process what's happened and what's going on or to just. Let us exist, in the moment. In a much more grounded and human way than when there's Big And Important Things happening.

The biggest(imo) and earliest example of this is right after the Waking Sands get raided in ARR, and WoL turns to the church for guidance. The entire section of us helping them gather and bury our fallen comrades, and especially bringing Noraxia home to Little Solace so she can be laid to rest in her homeland, by her own people and in their own cultural ways, was so so important to me.

Because it wasn't just replacable allies cast aside for shock value anymore, it was real. These deaths were real and meant something. I got to actually process what just happened, and I got to watch Banana go through it right with me. And not only did it make it feel real, it also gave me a sense of closure. These people, these friends, are dead, but they also got to be treated with the respect they deserve and laid to rest properly.

And that, more than anything else, made me want to save the world. It's grounded and grounding. This world, and these people, meant something to me, the player.

And there's tons of stuff like that throughout the game, especially in shadowbringers and endwalker.

In shb we have, for example, Lyna venting her anger and frustration after the sin eater attack in Lakeland. She's on her knees yelling on the verge of tears while punching the ground, so furious at her helplessness and powerlessness, at everyone having come so far yet set back because some megalomaniacal tyrant deemed it so.

In ew we have Urianger being approached by Moenbryda's parents, who confront him about not confiding in them about his grief. When Bloewyda starts to scold him, he of course reacts guiltily, believing they blame him, only for him to be completely caught off guard when she instead goes in to hug him, telling him he should have let them grieve with him. And he just. Breaks down. He's been holding these feelings, this grief inside him all this time, and now that he is not only told it's okay to let it out, but by her very own parents at that, he just can't keep it in anymore. He cries for Moenbryda, right then and there, being held lovingly by her family.

And the thing is, these scenes aren't necessary, strictly speaking. The plot at large could go on without them, the events that happen around them are not changed by these moments in any way.

But still, they are so so important, to the world, to the characters, to the players. Everything feels real and impactful now, every death means something, every tragedy, every person, feels real.

And that, to me, is what makes this story so special.

[improvised-finish]

(Count)Down to Dawntrail - Shadowbringers

Lehon'a finally managed to figure herself out while on the First. After spending many days and nights agonizing about it alone, she eventually confided in Y'shtola, who in turn helped her explain things to the rest of the Scions & colleagues in Norvrandt. Despite not yet changing her appearance completely, she opted to change her hairstyle to mark some sort of difference that people could see. On top of that, she finally got over her nerves about taking Lyna up on her offer to teach Lehon'a the art of war dancing, so we've got some shots of the two hard at work training in Kholusia during some downtime. The events above (that lead up to the dancer training, anyway) are recounted in Mirror, the fic I mentioned yesterday but will shill again cause I'm very proud of it. :3

I'm really happy with these, especially given that I chose to completely retake them. I'd originally taken these with her post-Fantasia model, and then someone in Seafloor said something that just kinda stuck me about wanting to see the transition unfold, and I realized that I'd kinda copped out by jumping over it. So I went back, swapped out the body models and found a hairstyle I could wrangle, and the rest is history! I think these better illustrate the gradual nature of something like this over a longer period, and as a trans person who is not yet on hrt but would like to be, it's more validating than I initially thought, seeing something like this.

[halybs]

bunby kiss

[theshotsheardacrossworlds]

FebHyurary Day 9: Trust

"So there's this wonderful system called Trust...wait a second, HI LYNA! Oh, and it's the Exarch...okay..."

[ridleykemp]

"Matchmaker, Matchmaker" in Eorzean

My Eorzean alter-ego is single. Which NPCs would potentially make good partners. Let's take a look!

In which we try to find a suitable NPC partner for my FFXIV Warrior of Light. This is some niche stuff here. My WoL, a white mage who has defeated the Garlean invasion of the Eorzean alliance, accomplished some extremely political stuff in Ishgard that I won’t describe in detail as it gets very spoiler-y, fought for both Ala Mhigan and Doman independence, fought back against the flood of the…

[tinygamertris]

Urianger is absolutely a great singer, and prefers really heartfelt ballads. (Wol never stood a chance, Urianger was already making him Realise Things and then singing voice help.)

Alphinaud and Alisaie are both excellent singers - like Fourchenalt wouldn't have them in lessons as children! - but have very very different tastes in music... And not how you think! Alisaie actually loves opera and operettas, with all that intense emotion sung to shake the rafters. Alphinaud pretends he likes classical, but really he likes anything cheerful and bouncy that makes him feel light.

Thancred is a trained bard and is decent... but he's also half-Hyur half-alcohol quite often throughout the game and when he's been drinking he a. WANTS TO SING LOUD and b. absolutely should not be allowed to.

Y'shtola does not sing. Nobody knows if it's because she's really bad at it or just doesn't like it. Nobody is brave enough to ask.

G'raha has reduced people to tears with his voice a few times. He's banned from singing anything sad when the Scions are together; anything else is fair game though. (Theo was already head over heels but that singing voice, god. It's unfair is what it is!)

Tataru is one of those people who isn't bad or good, just very enthusiastic. She's definitely one of the more fun Scions to do karaoke with, she has so much fun it's very hard not to get sucked in.

Krile is not a great singer. She could be, but she's somehow convinced herself that she's a soprano when she ought to be trying for alto instead. Wol tried to help her once, but only once. He doesn't talk about what happened, but he flinches if Krile looks at him sharply.

Estinien does not sing. Never. Never ever ever. He has never once been heard teaching Alphinaud Ishgardian army drinking songs and anyone who says otherwise is lying!

Wol Garlond trained as a bard himself, and is a pretty good singer. He's much much better with a violin though, and a rapidly improving guitarist. Strings seem to be his jam.

Theodore McCoy is not a bard. For good reason. The lad adores music but has a terrible singing voice and his various smithing (and weaving and alchemy and kitchen burns and...) calluses make learning an instrument very difficult. He loves to listen though.

Bonus: Ryne could become a bard, but getting a soul crystal and/or moogle to help her is proving extremely difficult. Gaia is like Thancred in that she loves to sing loud when she's been sneaking a drink and should be stopped at all costs. Lyna learned on G'raha's knee and surprises everyone with her talent.

Y’all seemed to really like my headcanon poll earlier (the drinking age one)! This isn’t a poll, but I want to hear people’s headcanons on this:

The Scions are having a karaoke party. Who can sing? Who can’t? What songs do they choose?

I’ll start with some known details: Thancred and G’raha are both trained bards, and according to Encyclopedia Eorzea, G’raha has a fantastic singing voice. I could definitely see either of these guys showing off!

Alphinaud is probably decent but not great. For all his confidence giving speeches I think he’d be a little nervous singing. Alisaie on the other hand is both a better singer than her brother and would be more confident on stage.

Y’shtola would probably refuse to participate. Or she might be surprisingly good.

Estinien would absolutely refuse. If pressed he might pick a song with minimal effort… like “Tequila.”

Urianger would probably be a surprisingly good singer, which would shock most of the Scions.

Tataru isn’t great, but she doesn’t care! She’s the most confident of all the Scions regardless of her talent and would probably goad people into duets or group songs.

Krile is either decent or surprisingly good, I’m not sure.

My WoL, Katina, is decent-ish and shares Tataru’s enthusiasm. She’d probably join Tataru and drag Alisaie along for some girl rock songs.

What do y’all think? Agree? Disagree? How would your WoLs do? Comment or reblog with your headcanons!

[headcanons-n-shit]

Hi! I love love love you writing! (I've been here all morning, my chores are not getting done lol) Can we get the boys (tm) reacting to/taking care of a WoL who's sick? Like something that requires them to stay in bed and actually rest, something I imagine most WoL's aren't very good at lol maybe a lost, scratchy voice or something too pls <3

Look at these boys, taking care of their poor little meow meow lmao

ff14 boys (tm) taking care of a sick WoL:

Thancred needles you gleefully, but it's playful. What isn't playful is the way he's handling you. Damn but you always forget how strong he is. Easily lifting you off your staggering feet and into bed, from your bed to a bath and back. propping you up with one arm to tip medicine down your throat. A strong, weathered hand checking your temperature, patting your cheek, brushing your hair back so he can lay a cool cloth across your forehead.

In that hazy space between sleep and awake, you think you might even hear him singing to you, low and sweet. It's. Probably just the fever though.

Urianger isn't going to say that he warned you, but. Well. He did kind of warn you.

He doesn't rub it in, either. No, instead he's almost infuriatingly patient with you. When he's easing you into taking foul-tasting medicines, when he's bundling you up in blankets, when he's feeding you soups without letting you so much as lift a finger. He even reads to you-- mostly just dry historical texts that have you dozing off within minutes. It's the best rest you've ever had in your life, and you wake up feeling more alive than ever.

And THEN he will tell you that he warned you :)

G'raha seems like the kind of person who might panic and run around like a chicken with his head cut off. And he might have been, at one point. But he's an older soul now, with experience with a much tougher patient than you: a young Lyna.

He's kind, and gentle, but firm. Yes, you do need to stay in bed. No, you cannot get up. No, he is not going to bring your paperwork or needlework to your bed for you, but he will happily fetch a book for you to read, the new Heavensward memoir perhaps? Yes, you have to take the medicine, but yes you can also have a hot cocoa to chase the taste away.

Estinien stares at you where you're leaning on your lance. You stare at him. He raises an eyebrow. You look away. You can't even give a good excuse-- your voice went out about an hour ago, and you don't have the energy to croak words out around the frog in your throat.

He sighs, scoops you up despite your largely-mute protests, and carries your sorry ass back to the Forgotten Knight. He's no healer, but he remembers the very basics: a roaring fire, hot soup, soothing tea, and rest. It's hard for him, too, he'll freely admit. It feels like there's so much to do, and resting feels like a waste of time.

But if you keep working a damaged muscle, you'll just hurt it further, he reminds you, and helps you with your first few bites of soup. You have to rest, so that, at least if you don't come out the other side stronger, you come out the other side alive.

Aymeric seems calm and composed, but he is 100% internally a screaming chicken. He's already called on the best chirurgeons who would answer, gotten you the best of the medicines they recommended, helped his cooks prepare your favorite meal. All that is left is to wait, and. Aymeric is a strategist, he's good at the long game, but.

He lingers in the door to your room. In your comfy bed, all bundled up in warm blankets, you look so. small. Not the Warrior of Light, not his stalwart friend, but just. A person. Who gets sick. Who he might lose. And that. Scares him. More than a little.

You lift your head and blearily blink at him, and then your chapped mouth pulls into a smile. You pat the edge of your bed next to you for him to sit.

"Tell me about your day?" you croak.

And he takes your hand, and he does.

Haurchefant shakes his head fondly as he moves to help you off the floor where you've fallen.

There was a short period of time when he was really, truly worried for you. When you had just woken up into the new reality of your life, your blank eyes staring at the space where you arm had once been. It's hard, he understands, for a warrior to lose so much of what had once defined them.

But you've still got your fire, to his relief and his chagrin, spitting and cursing and wiggling as he settles you back into bed and flops his entire not-insignificant weight on top of you.

"Hush, now," he says, his mouth right next to your ear, one hand coming up to curl, warm and heavy, around the back of your neck. You're still running a fever, he notes idly, but it's certainly better than it was before. "I think we've earned a spell of rest, don't you?"

Sidurgu freezes at the first cough that rattles through your chest. The memories rise horrifying and unbidden, of coughs that echo in armor, of shaking hands and failing strength and nights hungry, trembling, curled around each other in a desperate bid of warmth, terrified of falling asleep because he doesn't want to wake up to a frozen corpse next to him. And Fray lived, sure, but the cold in their bones never did leave them, not until the day they--

But this is now, he reminds himself, and you are not Fray. There is gil for medicine AND for food, and even for a warm place to sleep. There is Rielle, diligently studying her conjury and happy for a real, live patient to practice on, falling asleep against your chest not because she exhausted herself, but because the hour grew late and she, bored.

How terrifying it is for a Dark Knight to know peace, he thinks as he carefully repositions her so that she is not putting so much weight on your sick lungs. As he brushes your hair from your forehead and places a single kiss there before replacing the cold compress.

How terrifying, and how wonderful.

BONUS

Erenville has this way about him that is undeniably guilt-inducing. The kind of demeanor that reminds you of clucking mothers and worried-looking fathers, all with his hands on his hips and a single eyebrow raised, and you don't even have the voice to argue with him as he takes you by the hand and half-drags you back to his room.

In a city full of scholars, doctors, and healers, he gripes, and you couldn't find your way to any of them? What if you had gotten hurt? or accidentally gotten someone else sick? or spread something to the delicate denizens of labyrinthos?

But you can sense the very real concern for you, beneath his scathing tone. In the way he keeps one hand on your chest to feel your breathing, the other on your wrist to monitor your pulse. The way he takes you to his home-- not the shoddy room the forum gives to any gleaner, but to the one he's build in the Golmorean section of labyrinthos-- and keeps you there until you get better.

[kootiepatra]

#FFxivWrite2024 - Day 23: On Cloud Nine

The Crystal Exarch was a patient man. He had grown to be. He had no other choice. 

Yet even still, he felt himself becoming restless. He rocked back and forth on his heels. He drummed his fingers against his staff. He could not pull his eyes away from the towering crystalline mirror before him—even though at present, all that was displayed upon it was a dim, gray circle, flickering in and out of focus. It was a tenuous connection, but it was something.

It had been days since he had finally made contact with the Warrior of Light. 

While of course there was no “day” or “night” as such to judge it by, the Crystal Tower had its own devices for marking the passage of time. And the Exarch had watched every single hour elapse as they happened. He could do naught else.

Lyna was doing a fine job of limiting which visitors were allowed to call upon him, but, of course, some business was too urgent to ignore. With what scant few meetings were unavoidable, he found himself barely present, glancing back at the mirror frequently, probing the rift with his aetheric senses between every exchanged word. When business concluded, he resumed his post, keeping vigilant watch at the nothingness.

Surely, she should have found the beacon by now, yes?

He reminded himself that she would require time. 

Cringing to himself, he considered that she probably even required time to wake up. After his numerous near-misses had summoned her companions, his latest attempt had succeeded in finding her… but only her consciousness. Thank the gods, he had been able to return her to her own body, but he could only guess at what her recovery from such an ordeal might require.

In the moment of that encounter, he had been forced to improvise. He needed to both figure out how to more precisely find her, and to convince her to stop resisting his call. He could not risk bringing her to the First in an incomplete state—what he planned to ask of her would require her whole being. And besides… Norvrandt was running out of time. 

He could not keep failing like this.

He concocted the idea of the beacon mid-conversation with her. While traversing the rift was unimaginably complex, and rife with risk besides, sending something—something small, something inanimate—should be within his means to achieve. It would give him a simple target, one he knew intimately. The beacon would be easy for him to find. And thus, so would anyone who took hold of it.

And if the Warrior of Light went and sought it out, then it would mean she was agreeing to meet him. Something in her will would be reaching out to his. That should be enough to bridge the gap he himself had been unable to surmount thus far. 

But since he had come up with the idea in the very short time he had with her, he could only offer to her the vague concept of “a beacon” and a location. It was up to him, after he had already sent her back, to determine what that should be. After scouring his quarters in the tower for something, anything, that would look like “a beacon” and not “a random Allagan artifact”, he had settled on the medallion of the Ironworks. He figured it would look immediately recognizable, but clearly out of place, hopefully warranting closer inspection.

He could only pray it was obvious enough. 

He glanced at the tower’s internal chronometer again. Another hour had gone by. With the Source’s timeline in near-equivalence to his own, the waiting felt that much more agonizing. He wondered if this was going to work. He wondered how long he could afford to give her before he had to try to summon her again, with the aid of the beacon or without it. He wondered if he had accidentally teleported the blasted thing into a wall.

What would he even do if she…

Hold on a moment.

The image on the mirror flickered. Of course it did; it had been for days. But something seemed different. Distant as it was, the beacon only allowed him the smallest and dimmest glance into the Source, but he thought he saw—was that motion?

He poured all of his concentration into the mirror, straining for anything to tell him more. Had someone found it? Was it who he hoped it was? He heard voices, distant and muffled. He could not make out words. But it struck a bell of recognition from something far, far in his past. Come on, come on…

And then he heard her.

She was there.

He began a quiet, frantic spell, trying to grasp the beacon itself, trying to sense its surroundings more thoroughly. He detected a warmth. Then he detected a presence. Sigils and arcane formulae spun into visibility before him in the Ocular, patterns of light floating in space, describing the beacon’s surrounds. Most of it was an indistinct, muddied mess, too far outside of his recent efforts to clearly register anything legible. But there. Bright and in the center. That was what he had been trying to lock onto through the rift these five years.

“Now… now I have you,” he gasped, as he reached out to that aetheric signature. He grabbed hold of it. A surge of power rushed through him as the magic connected.

Gods, but her will was strong. He tugged, but was unable to pull. He felt her wresting herself away from his grasp—on instinct, he had to assume. She would not have the beacon if she was not willing to answer him. Those muffled voices he had heard all began speaking at once, sounding concerned. 

Talk her through it, G’raha. Help her not to panic.

“Stay with me,” he begged her. “Focus on my voice!”

He had no idea how long this window of opportunity would last. He felt the resistance tentatively relaxing. He had no time to lose. He went straight to the incantation.

Let expanse contract, eon become instant… throw wide the gates, that we may pass!

He cried aloud as he pulled with all of his strength, trying to achieve what he had yet been unable to do: bring an entire person through the unrelenting barrier of the rift.

The interior of the Ocular flashed. A rush of aether.

Then it was quiet.

Panting for breath, he drew the arcane sigils back into the air, and reached out to the Source once more. He found the beacon there… but not the Warrior of Light’s aetheric signature. He dismissed the spell, and began anew, casting his senses into the rift. Please be there, please be… THERE. She was on her way.

“YES!!” he shouted aloud, quite against his better judgment. He briefly thanked the gods that the Crystal Tower walls were so thick. He could scarcely see straight—partly from the exertion, but mostly from the relieved joy. It had worked! After so much waiting, and the sacrifices of so many people, it was happening. He barely knew what to do with himself. He paced eager circles in front of the mirror. He allowed himself another shout of triumph, which echoed around the circular crystal of the Ocular as he shook his fists in the air.

“We have done it, my friends,” he whispered to a generation far in the future and on a different world. “There is hope yet.”

Dear gods. It had worked!

He pulled his cowl low over his face and fought to catch his breath—a difficult task, given how his heart was racing. The thrill of success mingled with a boyish joy for soon being reunited with his long-time hero. He had imagined that starstruck part of him to have long since gone dormant, but no, here it was, giving him butterflies and causing him nearly to forget himself. 

This is not a reunion; it is a first meeting. You are not G’raha Tia; you are the Crystal Exarch. She is not your hero; she is THE hero, the hero of the Source, and that is why you have summoned her. You must stay calm. You must reveal nothing. Pull yourself together.

He exhaled several slow, deep breaths, readied his staff, and assumed the posture of a dignitary. He was grateful that the journey through the rift took some time. It gave him a moment to collect himself. This was good. He was ready. He waited for her to appear before him.

…And waited for her.

…And waited, with increasing concern.

He searched the rift with his magic once more, and did not find her. He reached out to the beacon, and only found that gray nothingness once more. Trying not to panic, he spun around to the mirror and began searching his own plane. THANK THE GODS. There she was, clearly displayed, slowly peeling herself off the ground, looking as if she was shaking off a massive headache—and surrounded entirely by lavender trees.

Oh no.

Still coasting on the adrenaline, the Crystal Exarch spun on his heels, and sprinted for the door.

[mosthuggableffxiv]

As Promised: The G'raha Essay

Full text below

While initially pretty annoying in his debut questline of the Crystal Tower raids, G'raha Tia has proved himself to be the person in all 14 shards most devoted to the Warrior of Light. Not only was he willing to throw away his life in the present to protect the world from misuse of the Crystal Tower, but he then spent 100 years slowly and PAINFULLY turning into crystal and fusing with the Tower just to yank the Warrior of Light across dimensions to save both their life and the future of both the Source and the First.

We know from patch 5.3 that the crystallisation process is incredibly painful and draining on G'raha's body, and the poor thing is literally crying out in pain during some of those cutscenes. When we first encounter him at the start of 5.0 his entire right arm has already crystallised. Moreover, I'd like to draw attention to the fact that the crystallisation by this point is already encroaching into his face, and one can only imagine that the pain from that must have been unbearable. We can therefore deduce that G'raha Tia has spent a hundred years slowly and periodically experiencing the pure agony of his body literally turning to crystal while he attempted to transport the Warrior of Light across the Rift. Furthermore, as we have seen in the MSQ, drawing upon the aether of the Tower guarantees a burst of the crystallisation process, which means that every time he pulled a scion across the rift, including the WoL, he experienced indescribable pain.

Not only can we reflect upon the physical pain he has undergone for us, but he must have also gone through incredible emotional pain. Firstly, the horror of waking up in a world post eighth calamity, where everyone he knew is dead, but also discovering the horrific fate that had taken the WoL. That alone would be enough to break most people, but not G'raha Tia. This man then went on to survive in this post-apocalyptic hellscape, which we know was a world akin to the nightmarish landscape of the Fallout series, which can only have added to his trauma, but also managed to discover a way to change history and prevent those horrors from ever happening.

Moreso, upon arriving in the First, he not only survived another nightmare-fuel world full of sin eaters, but managed to build an entire city and community, all while spending A HUNDRED YEARS preparing for his own death just to save the WoL's life. How many people would be capable of doing that? Especially when they knew their plan did not even have a guarantee of success?

This man must have lost countless friends and loved ones spending an entire century building and leading the Crystarium. We know from how he took in Lyna that he did not isolate himself, and made himself beloved by the city's people. The emotional toll that each death and loss over a century must have taken is incredible. And if his plan had gone as intended, he would have done all this without his name or true identity being known or remembered for it, even by the person he was trying most of all to save.

And then, when his true name was called at the end, and his identity revealed, he cried. He has shown time and again that he allows himself to show emotional vulnerability; even after spending a century working in secret and suffering so much, he still was not afraid to cry. And not just then, but at the end of 5.0 and 6.0 as well. He bravely shows the WoL his whole self, rather than hide anymore.

After returning to the Source, we see a change in G'raha Tia that has only convinced me even more that he is the most huggable character in FFXIV. With a new, and unexpected, life ahead of him, we see a playfulness in G'raha that had been dampened before. We see adorable ear wiggles, and him allowing himself to fanboy and get excitable. We see him has cheeseburger... and it is glorious. It is so unabashedly cute, that even if we discounted all of the above he would still be the most huggable character in all of FFXIV. His little arm rub when he's nervous or embarrassed is too freaking cute.

In conclusion, G'raha Tia has faced unimaginable emotion and physical pain for over a century to save the future and the Warrior of Light. He survived immense trauma and still remains able to show his vulnerability and emotions, and look damn cute while at it too. Plus, fluffy ears and tail. I rest my case.

[azems-familiar]

Please please plea s PLEASE 3 for the “non-sexual intimacy” prompts 

"Helping each other wash up in the shower; back massages under the running water to help relieve the other's tension."

well. i took some liberties with this one dfkgjhdjh BUT it's still bathing together so it counts. emetraha, 6.3k

-

The Crystarium seems quiet with the absence of the Scions and the Warriors of Darkness. Emet-Selch could have followed them to Amh Araeng, in their hunt for its Lightwarden, but its proximity to the frozen Flood sets his teeth on edge and leaves him feeling as though a thousand thousand needles are stabbing through his skin - not only is it uncomfortable, but it requires much more focus than he prefers to keep himself together under such persistent onslaught. He wishes to observe these potential allies of his, yes, but not that badly - and it is difficult to feel as though he desperately needs to when Corrain and Lelesu both seem to be listening to him. Their interest in the past, in him, their similarities to the people he remembers…he cannot help but see them and feel a spark of hope. Hope that they will finally understand, that they will join hands with him, that they will remember, that all of this will not be for naught.

If they can make the choice the Exarch - Raha, as he has asked to be called - cannot, then perhaps a victory here will not ache quite so fiercely as he has begun to fear it might.

But he would rather not consider that for now. He is well-aware of the foolishness of his decision to give in to the softness, well-aware of the potential for pain, but he has not forgotten his duty and so none of it matters. 

Emet-Selch sighs, shaking his head. He had woken up alone, earlier this morning, and Raha had not returned by the time he’d finished eating and had gotten bored waiting - and a brief inspection of the Tower had not turned up any sign of the man, nor had asking Lyna when he’d finally dragged himself out to the city proper to go look. It has been raining off and on for the past two days, but while the sky above is thick with clouds the weather seems to be turning, glimpses of blue sky off in the distance and a light breeze heavy with petrichor in the air. The Exedra is damp beneath his boots, rainwater creeping into the designs on its wide tiles and leaving puddles he has to carefully pick his way around - an act that has garnered him no few amused looks from the city’s citizens, which he mostly ignores or waves off. Though he could simply snap himself dry with a quick spell should he accidentally stumble into one, he would prefer to avoid the situation entirely, and he does not particularly care if they think he looks like a fool in so doing.

Read On AO3

[haunted-xander]

Old ffxiv doodles bc why not

[improvised-finish]

The Pedestal

So I mentioned a long time ago that I was working on a G'raha POV fic set during Shadowbringers. It isn't 100% done, but there's enough finished that I wanted to make it publicly available! I plan to continue it through the end of the main Shadowbringers arc (around 5.3), but right now it goes up to right before Mt. Gulg.

Anyway! This one deals with our catboy figuring some things out about himself and about his feelings for Lehon'a, and also acts as another vantage point for me to write about Lehon'a's transition from.

If you'd like to give it a read, the link to the fic on Ao3 is below; if you'd prefer a Google Doc, just shoot me a message!

(Not going to post the full fic text here, cause it's around 7k words and I don't feel like it would be a great reading experience here, tbh)

[myreia]

✦ multifandom | oc writing & fanfic | screenshots

final fantasy, dragon age, fire emblem: three houses, baldur’s gate, elden ring, hades, cosmere, the occasional star wars, & a few other interests.

ON HIATUS until i play dragon age, will only be here to update fanfic - my queue is going!

• ao3 • writing masterlist • writing tag • oc tag • oc art • fic recs

✦ ffxiv

—aureia malathar [she/her] | character tag

warrior of light. ex-garlean operative. combat specialist. mage. either making up for the past or burying her trauma six fulms deep, there is no in-between.

• expacs are tagged by expac name (not consistent, but I try!) • this blog is not spoiler free for a realm reborn to endwalker • no dawntrail spoilers or news, please and thank you!

—projects

• gpose tag • febhyurary 2024 • wolcred week 2024 • level 90 compendium

• ffxivwrites 2024: sketches of times lost — collection, many ships, many genres, see table of contents for ratings & tags (includes f/f, m/f & gen fics) — tumblr tag | masterpost

—recent fics

• the heart's a withered fortress — wolcred (pre-relationship), ryne, lyna | shadowbringers | hurt/comfort, angst | teen | 4 chapters | wip [updates on thursdays] • familiar shores — tansui x wol | romance, fluff | 2,456 words [complete] [gift for @/thevikingwoman] • anthesis — wolcred | post-msq future | romance, fluff, smut | explicit | 6,022 words [complete] • desiderium — wolcred | early endwalker | romance, mild hurt/comfort | explicit | 5 chapters | 16,837 words [complete] • as we move forwards — wolcred | post-endwalker | hurt/comfort | mature | 2 chapters | 8,140 words [complete] • castaway — wolcred (pre-relationship), minfilia, yda | a realm reborn | drama/angst/friendships | teen | 3 chapters | 7,164 words [complete]

• 18+ only. may occasionally be explicit • my pronouns are she/they • answered asks are under answered! • feel free to interact/collab (even if we're not mutuals!), I love hearing from people <3 • mutuals can message me for my discord <3 • if you need something tagged, please let me know!

[genderdotcom]

ffxivwrite2024 day 1: steer

the warrior of light learns to dance. (shb)

“Not to be rude, Captain, but-”

“Just Lyna. Please.”

“-But are you sure you’re not pranking me?”

The Captain of the Crystarium Guard leans back and regards the Warrior of Light, now Warrior of Darkness, with a craftsman’s squinted eye. 

“Lift your head.”

She complies, but the movement makes her forget her arms, and moving her arms makes her forget she’s balancing on the tips of her toes, so all that prevents her from tumbling to the ground is the practice salle’s handrails.

“Bugger me. Thought I’d be better at this.”

“We’ve only just started.” Lyna notes, motioning for her to attempt the pirouette again. “To the right, this time. Pick up the right. Now, what do you mean by ‘pranking you’? You asked me for training, if you recall.”

“Well-” Her next attempt is somewhat better, taking her halfway across the room in a whirlwind of limbs before she falters. “I’ve seen you fight before, and you don’t just spin around the place. You throw those weapons of yours and don’t much look like you’re dancing-”

“Head up. Keep spotting.” For such an accomplished hero, she’s rather uncoordinated, Lyna thinks, and raises a hand to cover her smile. “Let me put it this way. You are a prodigious fighter. Has there never been a moment where you and your opponent were so in sync, you felt as if you were dancing?”

It’s lucky that her first thought is not of Zenos- it hasn’t usually been, of late- as it spares the nearby walls from threat of punching.

She thinks of Lyse. The spar they’d had in the giant stone palm of Rhalgr, almost breathing in sync, spinning and feinting and moving closer and closer together, Fickle with her daggers and Lyse with her fists, like the two of them were halves of a whole. A heady, fizzing feeling.

Lyna must see something in her expression, because she steps back and waits.

The feeling guides her forward. It burns in her limbs, it quickens her heart- this time, her feet don’t steer her wrong. She spins across the floor, once, twice, thrice, and laughs out loud.

[nights-at-crystarium]

Fragments - episodes 15-18 author notes

Shall we sit back and go over the recent episodes together? C:

You can find similar breakdown posts on older episodes in my pinned!

Obligatory ShB spoiler warning.

Any theme song enjoyers? I associate this song with this moment, and generally with Exarch’s longing and excitement that can’t be shown. “And in my usual voice, I say, there you are”.

Go away grandpa, you crashed an otherwise perfect party :’>

Had this followed the msq more closely, i.e. had Feo Ul not been the first to find Vivi, or had it happened in an environment more familiar to him, he might've asked Exarch if he's shy, or just ugly. Kinda like if you’re a bully in your school, you might still wanna keep a low profile in a new school.

Vivi treads lightly in a new world, at least tries to. He doesn't yet know how thick or thin is the ice under his feet.

Exarch doesn’t know about the tree since he was busy waiting for Vivi in the Ocular, having just finished the summoning spell, tense and giddy, hood up and all. Minutes passed, nothing happened, then Exarch started getting antsy and finally turned on his tv to find Vivi in Lakeland.

“Hey it could’ve been your spine” I hope is clear: as in Vivi could’ve landed on Lyna instead of the aforementioned tree, not a threat to snap her spine in a fight. He knows better than taunting random people.. Moreover, people stronger than him x’D

Artist achievement unlocked: managed to make a hooded person look expressive. IN THE BACK VIEW.

SPROUT?!

He’s more cute than he deserves to be here and you’ll perceive him.

Being at the end of the episode, “we’re friends, yes” is the first and only line almost nonchalantly tossed to Vivi! Exarch wanted to buy time and observe him, how he’s changed, how’s best to approach him now.

..And Vivi needs rest and new clothes, he spent AN ENTIRE DAY in one outfit. We've seen him around several people so far, and, while he's always genuine, he's the most himself with Exarch, even at this early stage.

But yeah, he’s jaded, regrets many choices in his life and wants his money back.

Vivi's tailored for this ship. Before I even knew that I wanted to write a comic of this size, I asked myself, what condition does he need to be in at the beginning of ShB for the chemistry to happen? The answer was, well, "terrible". I’ve got the juicy deets, but you’d have to be patient and keep an eye out for more flashbacks sprinkled in throughout the story.

What matters now is that, finally, both of them are sufficiently tired to start noticing something else than gremlins in each other.

Have fun living with the knowledge that there’s no face where it’s supposed to be :>

Exarch has a way with the fae: don't flinch, offer them something nice. He offers rest to Vivi without hesitation, as soon as he sees his emotionally battered state. And, oh, he’s still an archer, landing that perfect shot first try. This here is a genuine spark of interest, surprise and gratitude in Vivi’s eyes.

I went balls deep with the visual subtext here. Despite being shown up close, Vivi’s broody face takes on a secondary role as his mind literally closes in on Exarch in that moment, on the mystery man that’s suddenly so unlike the rest. Even if he’s yet another quest-giver, even if shit’s on fire, he allows Vivi to go? Rest? Have some time for himself???? Exarch is, or is about to become, his only light in the darkness :3c

Exarch’s stiff posture is also intended here. He must’ve rehearsed this scene sooooooooo many times, he was prepared for hostility, interrogation, tantrums, but this Warrior’s indifferent and just wants to leave?

Magical boy de-transformation! Headcanon time, two of them even.

Firstly, the Tower can register living presence in its vicinity, a passive ability which Exarch can casually tap into. Being aware of an entire city’s population is, mildly put, overwhelming, thus he’s learned to shrink the “radar” area down to his Ocular, or wherever he’s at the moment and whenever he actually needs it. He feels that Vivi’s indeed left, therefore he can safely remove the hood.

Secondly, the hood shadow’s magicked. The panel above demonstrates how it’d look naturally, if it were a normal shadow. But he casts a pitch black glamour that also extends to his hair.

Just a cool crystal flare that I feel like showing off :>

None of you would believe me now if I said this isn't a horny scene? Although this looks lewd, for someone who’d spent a century clinging to memories and tales the lingering scent is just another confirmation that all of this's real. He can't even touch the WoL (or so he thinks), the scent could be the most he ever gets. Bearing in mind the stress of the day, I genuinely don’t think that he’s in the mood here. But no worries, he’ll get plenty of horny opportunities later on :>

The subtle characterization in the way he opens a door to a supposedly empty, still unknown room.

An unironically normal reaction to the Light, and shadowbringing \o/

This. This goes into my personal collection of the best vivifaces I’ve drawn.

He’s quick to react to a threat (?) popping out of nowhere in a supposedly safe room.

GOMU GOMU NOOOOOOO-

I know the arm’s too long, but I like to incorporate some animation princliples :>

The Champion of Eorzea uses a stick to cure a 100 years old depression, ca. 2023, colorized.

Vivi didn't mean to pierce him, actually. While the space's more than enough for living, it's still cramped for fighting as a dragoon, and he simply misjudged the distance while spinning around and lunging at the source of that eerie voice. There’s also an ooc explanation: I couldn’t quite align all of this in one frame, and thought hey, Ardbert’s a ghost, it’s okay to pierce him!

Both are quick to handwave the fact, and let’s be honest, self-defense of that sort must be a mundane thing for a WoL.There’s more important stuff to discuss. Both are desperate to vent to someone they could trust. They may disagree on things, but generally they vibe pretty well with Ardbert.

A lil shoutout to @agent-jaselin​ for commenting this under the respective episode. I almost forgot to point it out while making this post. Vivi tries to see if he can relate to another WoL, if his struggles are valid, or if he’s overreacting to a typical hero life. Ardbert had a whole friend group adventuring alongside him, the Scions don’t measure up unfortunately, on top of that Vivi (emotionally) stays the fuck away from anyone post-ARR for their own protection (and his own if he ends up losing someone else), so it’s not quite the same experience for him.

One of the few redeeming qualities: Vivi keeps his word. This's gonna be relevant in like 2025 :'>

He baby, THAT’S his problem.

From pointing his spear at him to comfortably undressing and falling asleep in his vicinity. Ardbert's possibly the first man to be asked to stay and not get laid by Vivi :’>

While the Crystarium and its people seem nice, it’s still Vivi’s first day (one loooooong day since the beginning of chapter 2) in a brand new world, and Ardbert’s the only somewhat familiar person here. A ghost? Even better. The supernatural’s easier to deal with and is less likely to backstab you.

The sweet-voiced hooded guy says that it’s okay, that he’s safe here.... Yeah that on itself is a flag for our mr doubter. He’s grown reasonably paranoid since ARR, (almost) everything he does has a nice cynical-flavored logic to it.

While this’s a wolgraha comic, it’d be bland without support characters. Ardbert doesn’t play a massive role in this particular story, still you’ll keep seeing him here and there.

The next several episodes focus on the main two and Feo Ul, they’ll claw their way in even if they were left out x’D