#tiny Alea is tiny

[sneakersnacks]

Come Back Safe to Me

Authors Note: Hello everyone! First post on here. There isn't any use on Y/N or anything like that. I'm not sure where this story will eventually go, I am kind of writing this because I also have scenarios pop up into my head and I always feel better writing them down.

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

tw: GSW's, Guns, Military scenarios

“Sir I know for a fact she shouldn't lead this mission on her own.” Ghost said with a stern voice, almost slamming his hands on Price's desk.

“Ghost, she's more than capable of doing this, why are you set on her not leaving base without you?” Price retorted back, lifting up his eyebrow with the end of the sentence. 

They didn't know this, but you were on the other side of the door, listening to their conversation. Did Ghost not trust you? Did he not believe in your skills as a soldier? Just last week you were the only to actually hit high marks in training, that should be enough proof. You have been on countless missions with him, all of them successful. He was always by my side but the one time he isn't he doesn't believe in my capabilities? Pushing those thoughts to the side you lightly tap on the door. 

“Come in.” Price says

You enter and meet Ghost's gaze before you look at Captain Price, “Sorry to intrude Cap, I just wanted to check in before I set off with the team.” you say, trying not to notice the stare Ghost is giving you, if looks could kill, you would be dead by now.

“Ah yes, Crow, everything is all set in order, I wish you luck on your mission. Come back safe.” he says.

“Of course Sir.” You give a light nod and exit the tiny office. You close the door behind you and start walking down the hallway. You hear Price's door open and slam shut with heavy footsteps coming after you.  You know its Ghost, just the looming presence in the hallway gives you chills up your spine. 

“Crow.” he says from behind you.

You stop and turn on your heel, looking up at him with a stone look, “What.” is all you say, you can tell that this response catches him by surprise. “Are you here to tell me that I am not fit to lead this mission?” 

You see his eyes narrow and a glint of guilt flashes in his eyes, “Crow…” his voice is soft when he says your callsign.

“If you didn't believe in my skills as a leader or even just a soldier in general you should've told me from the beginning, don't give me false hope and make me doubt my own skills.” You say, your index finger jabbing at his chest. He just looks down at you, he didn't mean to make you angry, you weren't supposed to hear him say those things. He wanted you to be safe, how was he supposed to make sure you were safe if he wasn't there with you? He needed to protect you, he knew you could easily protect yourself but he just needed to be there with you. He couldn't lose you. He let you continue to be angry and rant at him but couldn't take it anymore and grabbed your hand before you could poke him in the chest for the second time. 

“Crow, please, believe me when I say you are capable of doing anything.” he squeezes your hand in his, his rough tactical glove almost scratching your skin, it didn’t bother you though. “I… just can't lose you.” he says, his voice soft. 

It's now your turn to be caught off guard, you look up directly into his eyes and he looks down at you like he was looking into your soul, “Ghost I-” you start to say before you hear a pair of footsteps come around the corner, Ghost quickly drops your hand and you get sad as you feel the warmth leave you.

“Lieutenant Crow.” Someone says from down the hallway, you turn around even though every cell in your body just wants to stay close to Ghost.

“Yes Alea?” 

“Pol and Gate are ready and heli will be good to go in about five minutes.” she states, you can see hee glance at Ghost but then give you her full attention. 

“Of course, thank you Alea, I will be right behind you.” You say, giving her a nod, she returns it and walks away from Ghost and yourself. You turn to face Ghost again, “I will be fine, I promise.” 

“Don't make promises you can't keep” his voice was low and not above a whisper. You reach up and touch his cheek, the fabric from his mask blocks you from touching his skin but even so the warmth he gives off radiates through the mask. He leans into your hand, closing his eyes. 

“Ghost, I don't make the promise if I can't keep the promise. It's a simple mission, in and out. You know how these things are.” You say, he slowly opens his eyes to meet yours and grabs your hand pressed on his face. 

“Aye, but I won't be there with you. I trust you, I just have never been worried about someone like this before, this is new to me.” He confesses and your heart flutters. “Come back safe to me.” is all he says and releases your hand, he turns around and walks down the hallway away from you. 

You are left there standing in the hallway, your mind racing and trying to process everything that just happened. You always had secret feelings for Ghost, that was apparent but you always told yourself to keep things very professional with him. He was part of the task force with you and emotions didn't need to get involved. Ghost always had his usual cold stone demeanor, you assumed there was nothing there on his end. He gave you the same amount of affection as he did with Soap, nothing but playful banter here and there but nothing came before missions. Even on our off time he would hang in the background when the task force would hang out. 

You start walking from the building and onto the heli, you see Pol, Alea, and Gate all strapped in ready to go. You grab your pack from the side and put it by your feet and buckle in. 

“Is everyone ready?” You say to your team. They all nod and give a sturdy ‘Yes Ma’am’. The door shuts and you feel the heli lift off the ground. “The mission should be rather simple,” you say trying to be loud enough so they can hear you, “We collect intel, possibly get a few things then we leave. In and out.” 

“In and out,” Pol says with a smile on his face. You give a smile back and try not to think about being above the ground, no matter how many times your were in planes or helicopters you hated the feeling of not being on solid ground.

The moon hung low in the night sky, casting an eerie silver glow over the desolate terrain as the small team of operatives moved stealthily towards their objective. The base was a mere twelve clicks away from their drop-off point, nestled deep within enemy territory. The mission was simple: gather critical intel without alerting the hostiles to their presence. You led the way, your sharp eyes scanning the darkness for any sign of danger. Beside you, Sergeant Alea maintained radio silence, her fingers deftly adjusting the settings on her portable communications device.

Private Pol and Gate, both seasoned soldiers, followed closely behind, their movements synchronized with military precision. The crunch of gravel beneath their boots seemed to echo louder in the silence, each step a reminder of the perilous nature of their mission.

The team reached a vantage point overlooking the enemy base, the cold wind ruffling their uniforms as they huddled together, peering through their night-vision goggles. In the distance, the enemy base sprawled like a hive of activity, unaware of the impending threat.

Your voice was barely a whisper as you addressed the team. "Stay sharp, everyone. We need those visuals on the base, but we can't afford to be seen."

Sergeant Alea nodded in acknowledgement, her fingers dancing over the communication device once more, relaying critical information back to their command center. The intel they gathered could change the course of the entire operation.

Minutes turned into hours as they continued their surveillance, your eyes never wavering from the base. The tension in the air was palpable, and even the wind seemed to hold its breath. Pol and Gate pushed a bit forward, while you and Alea stayed a bit behind. Your point of vision being able to see almost everything. Alea scribbles down times and notes when trucks would pull in and out of the compound.

"Lieutenant." Pol said over the comms, "We see a group of five coming out of the base, seems to be a patrol group, they are coming a little bit too close for comfort." he states.

Your heart raced as you scanned the approaching patrol through your night-vision goggles. They were closing in fast, and it was clear that their cover was about to be compromised. Without hesitation, you barked out orders. "Pol, Gate, fall back and find cover. Alea, keep relaying that information. I'll distract them and draw their attention away."

Pol and Gate retreated silently, fading into the darkness as Alea continued her vital work.

You stepped out from your hiding spot, your heart pounding in your chest. The patrol drew nearer, their flashlights cutting through the night. With practiced ease, you aimed your silenced pistol and took a deep breath, ready to create a diversion.

But just as you were about to squeeze the trigger, a sudden burst of gunfire erupted from the shadows. Bullets whizzed past you, and you felt a searing pain in your side. You stumbled backward, instinctively returning fire as best you could.

The patrol was caught off guard, their attention diverted from your team members. In the chaos, you managed to take down one of the enemy soldiers, but the pain in your side was overwhelming.

As the firefight raged on, you felt yourself growing weaker. It was then that you saw Pol, his eyes wide with fear and determination, rushing towards you. With all the strength you could muster, you tried to shout a warning, but it was too late.

A bullet meant for you found its mark, and you crumpled to the ground. Through the haze of pain and darkness, you could see Pol, his face contorted with grief, kneeling by your side. He grabs the back of your collar and drags you away from the flying bullets.

"Lieutenant I am so sorry, where did you get hit?" He is panicking right now. You take a deep breath and pull up your shirt that was tucked in. A bullet wound on your right side and another one through your shoulder. Pol saw both bullet wounds and his face paled. That was never a good sign. You here footsteps rushing towards us and Gate appears Pol.

"We have to go now!" He shouts, the both of them pull you up your arms slung over their shoulders. Alea was only a few feet away and you could see her on comms asking for evac.

"Lieutenant Crow has been shot! Get us out of here now, we are making our way to evac point!" She shouts into the mouth piece. "Crow you better fucking stay with us." She tells you as the three of you meet her.

Your eyes felt heavy and your body was numb from the adrenaline. Your feet barely kept you up and it seemed as if Pol and Gate were just dragging you at this point. Certain thoughts flashed through your head but one of them just kept coming up, "Come back safe to me". Fuck, why did this have to happen. You thought of Ghosts calm and collected eyes just turning into panic as he got the news that you were hurt. Probably dead. You were losing a lot of blood, you could feel it soak into your shirt.

Your squad made it back to the evac point, barley, but you made it. Pol lifted you into the heli and set you down on the floor of it. Alea got right to work and started to examine your wounds. Two GSW's both a clean enter and exit. You grabbed Alea's arm and for a second she stopped what she was doing to look at you, "If I dont make it-" you start out but she cuts you off, "Crow you are going to make it, knock that bullshit off" she snaps at you. continuing to bandage you up as best as she could.

"You gotta tell Pol this isn't his fault," you start "but also, you have to let Ghost know I'm sorry." She doesn't look at you at first but you yank her arm so she meets your eyes. She sees the seriousness in them and nods her head.

Your eyes are getting heavier and heavier by the minute. You take a shaky breath in and exhale as calmly as you can. The last thing you remember is Ghosts words in your head, "Come back safe to me."

*Authors Note: There will most likely be a part two lol ill just have to see where I want take this, if you read this I really hope you enjoyed it :)*

[dicefolk]

From Tiny Ghoul and Leap Studios, welcome to the world of DICEFOLK!

You play as Alea, a member of the Dicefolk clan, who uses powerful dice artifacts to train and command mystical creatures known as "Chimera."

Use these powers to build a team and fight rogue monsters that threaten the land, while uncovering the mysteries at the heart of this world.

Want to learn more? Head over to Steam and wishlist!

[sadmajima]

A sleepless kid - chapter 1

Also on Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/59287375

The events take place before Kokuto joining Univeil, and meeting Kisa even. At least at the moment. It might go up to the moment when he joins Univeil in future chapters.

TW: Mentions of death (not the main character), alcohol and tobacco.

—————

“I am human, just like you,” said the little cow with a sad smile.

The young boy opened his eyes and gasped. Another strange dream. He felt a faint light near his feet. He forgot to turn off his computer again, didn’t he? Did he save his school assignment before crawling to bed? Shit. He threw away his sheets, sat in his tiny bed, tapped on his bedstand. Knocking a book or two (there you were, Kafka), he finally grabbed his large, round glasses and put them on his turned-up nose.

The light was not coming from his computer’s screen, but from beneath the bedroom’s door. Someone was awake. Oh no. His mom was going to be pissed again. He looked around for his alarm clock, saw nothing, besides what could be considered a physical representation of his way of thinking about things – a gigantic mess. He stood up, put his trembling fingers on the door’s knob, then stopped.

He felt dizzy, noxious. Was he awake? Why was this so hard to open this door?

Then a thump. From the living room. A burglar?! He did take a few karate lessons some time ago, but he was only good at dodging, not fighting. Maybe he could grab a weapon? None of his plushes would do. Where were his theater props? Probably somewhere… somewhere… deep in the mess.

Better idea! He could scare the burglar away. Surprise tactics. The infamous dog’s growl he practiced at school would finally be put to a good use. He would save his home with the power of drama! Alea jacta est!

The boy slowly opened the door, ran into the living room and bared his teeth--

“What the f—Kokuto! Shh--!”

“Dad…?”

The boy gulped his growl and slowly relaxed his arched fingers – seconds ago he was convinced that was the most menacing pose he could do in this situation. Yet in front of him, a tall man wearing a dark coat was slowly limping toward the front door. He sat on a step and grabbed a pair of brown shoes.

“You okay, dad?” The boy asked in a raspy voice.

“You’ll wake up your mother,” the man grumbled, vaguely waving him to shut up while massaging one of his knees. As he caught Kokuto’s look: “Beware the coffee table. A dangerous hazard for any being that has the misfortune of having joints, limbs and nerves.”

A vague smile floated on the man’s dry lips. He stood up and looked absentmindedly at his hands for a brief moment.

“Where are you going, dad?” was what the young Kokuto meant to ask. But noticing his father’s feverish eyes; the small hole of a cigarette’s burn on his sleeve; a whiff of cheap alcohol as the man haphazardly started to move; his slight limping as he opened the door and left without a word, nor his favorite blue beret; the boy remained silent, for once. He muffled the growl that would shatter him apart if he dared to let it out. With his eyes and lips sealed, he fell on a couch. Never to sleep again.

[championsofthegate]

@shadovan asked: He settled in front of Alea, legs criss-crossed and with a bottle of deep purple nail polish in his hand in a tiny little glass vial. His own were already delicately painted and it seemed he was now eager to practice his polishing skills on someone else. "May I?" The lich asked with a wide grin, holding out his hand for hers.

Alea stared at him for a moment. Of all the things she'd expected the lich to ask when he approached, none of them were about her nails. Or whether he could... do whatever it was he was planning to do to them. Polish them? Was that what it was?

She eyed the glass vial warily, but sat down, offering her hand out. "Purple isn't really my color, you know." And her nails were practically claws at this point, coated in a layer of blood and grim. But that was neither here nor there, really.

[snow-system-wol]

S'ria and G'raha are allowed one night after a very long day to try to recover -- and S'ria ends up taking the chance to talk through a bit of it, particularly about Quintus.

Ao3

(tw for discussion of suicide -- alea iacta est aftermath)

As much as S'ria did want the refugees to be moved to camp as soon as possible, he was deeply grateful that he could finally end this day early. It was already late at night, even colder, and with little visibility – trekking with these weak and injured individuals should wait until the sun rose again. They were at least able to leave enough ceruleum to keep the heaters running at full blast again, some food, and could begin administering preliminary medical aid immediately.

S'ria being able to just teleport immediately back to Camp Broken Glass and rest was a blessing, though it was unfortunate the aetheryte would not work to transport the people here without attunement first. He'd return in the morning, of course, to see to their safety.

It'd just been… far too long of a day since arriving at Camp Broken Glass, and he was just hoping to fall into some citizen's abandoned bed and pray that his bones hurt less in the morning.

G'raha had expressed some sort of very soft-hearted guilt at the idea that those had been people's homes – S'ria could understand the sympathy, but it wasn't as though they were doing anything worse than taking shelter (and even doing some repairs.) Should these villagers return safely someday, they would find their homes intact and none the worse for someone having slept there.

S'ria's anticipation towards having a half decent bed instead of sleeping mere ilms above frozen ground was dwarfed by the relief upon an Ishgardian machinist happily informing him that heating in at least half the buildings had been restored. S'ria was not a religious man, but he wanted to thank at least some higher power for that mercy.

G'raha hovered nervously near him as he got food and began to wind down for the night, as outside began to fully empty except for the night watch, and S'ria began to wonder what additional thing may be occupying him. S'ria finally placed it as “uncertainty” and smiled at how simple and mundane of an issue that was compared to everything else today.

“That sleeping arrangement from the tents is still an option, if that's what you're dwelling on.”

G'raha startled. “Wicked white, was it that obvious? I – with the heaters working, I did not wish to assume...”

“The heating will keep me from freezing, but all things considered, I'd like to be warm.” 

G'raha finally relaxed his shoulders. “Full glad am I to donate my services as a space heater, then.”

Huddling by the fire was so cozy that S'ria almost didn't want to brave the cold journey to travel inside and wait for the room to warm up. Still, it was necessary.

The building they'd been directed to was a tiny two-room place, with a warm fire burning in the hearth – as well as two twins flopped across a couch and one Thancred occupying the floor. S'ria had more than a light enough step to sneak past, but G'raha luckily managed to avoid disturbing them as well.

The bedroom was (predictably but unfortunately) barely warmed by the fire in the other room. S'ria turned on the ceruleum heater in there immediately, huddling on the floor by it and waiting for the warmth to begin radiating. G'raha sat down next to him, weathering the short wait together.

“I am sorry. While none of it has been firsthand from your mouth, all I've heard sounds as though today has been… very unkind to you.”

S'ria made a noncommittal noise of acknowledgement and leaned into G'raha's shoulder, sitting in silence for some time longer. 

Eventually S'ria turned towards him, cupping his face in gloved hands. He tried not to let his body's shivering shake G'raha as well.

“Is it okay for me to…? I-I don't want it to go anywhere, though.”

G'raha closed his eyes in an affectionate blink. “‘Tis always okay – and it does not have to.”

S'ria relaxed and leaned to kiss him, G'raha's lips feeling just slightly warmer than his own. S'ria had always thought he ran a bit cooler than the average person, but it was nice to have proof. It was a pleasant enough way to occupy himself while he waited for the heater to fully kick on, the layers they both still wore a comfortable barrier for S'ria. A part of him worried about this, kissing G'raha somewhat less than chastely with the intent to crawl into bed together after – but he did trust G'raha.

(And besides, should that trust ever be shattered, Thancred was a light sleeper.)

S'ria pulled away and the room was finally warm. He stripped out of his boots and coat and crawled into the bed. The sheets were still cold, but that should hopefully pass quickly. He zoned out for a short while until his reverie was broken by the feel of the bed dipping under G'raha's weight. There was a very brief moment of panic at that sensation. Pulling G'raha against his chest, though, reminding his senses that none of the scents are right for whatever was scaring him – S'ria was able to get past the worst of that feeling.

S'ria was very exhausted, the fear he'd just felt was mostly abated, and the warmth of molding himself to G'raha's back was settling in… and yet, sleep felt malms away. His heartbeat just wouldn't quite settle – not pounding but never reaching calm – and he wondered if G'raha could feel it against his spine. Despite just finally getting warm, he had the twitchiest impulse to go run laps around camp before trying to lie down again. He made an effort to stay still for a while, before G'raha spoke up.

“You are…still awake. Is there aught that I can do?”

S'ria flinched as if he'd been caught. “Am I keeping you up? My mind is just a bit busy.”

“I would not be surprised, today seemed painful for you.”

S'ria chuckled humorlessly. “You'd think it'd be one of the worse things eating at me but, no – it's about Quintus… I want to feel glad that he's dead, but I don't.”

“If you feel the urge to mourn him or simply just do not rejoice in his death – there is nothing wrong with that.”

S'ria stilled and then slowly shook his head, ruffling the back of G'raha's hair with the movement. “That's…not the way I mean it. I fear I may be a much worse person than you are assuming.”

“I very highly doubt any of your thoughts will lead me to that conclusion – but you may speak, if you'd like me to confirm or deny that judgment?”

S'ria's arms tightened around G'raha's chest. He was silent in hesitation for a while, but once the words began to flow, they did so unimpeded.

“I'm not upset that Quintus committed suicide, I'm angry at him for why he did. The things Garlean soldiers do, once the dust has settled and the adrenaline and powertrip is still in their system – that is indignity and humiliation, not whatever he was experiencing.”

S'ria made a conscious effort to relax instead of squeezing G'raha too hard and continued.

“And to receive the barest hint of that which he's inflicted, a far kinder truce than they've ever offered, that's too much? His damn pride couldn't take even that? He spoke of collaring me and dared to make this about dignity?” The words were spat out and S'ria could feel a brief anger ripple through G'raha's frame as S'ria mentioned the collars. It made him feel just the tiniest bit validated. “I need to live with my shame, have remained alive despite the constant memories and reminders and fear, and then–then he thinks it's all well and good to die at the first hint of – !”

S'ria made an uncomfortable wheezy exhale, drastically lowering his voice before he could wake someone. “See? It's bad.”

G'raha brought his arms up to lay his hands over S'ria's, taking some time to consider his response.

“None of that makes you a bad person. It is unfair, all of it – and your thoughts alone can hardly do any harm just from thinking them either.” He gently squeezed S'ria's hands and added, quietly, “and I'm very glad that you're still alive.”

Whatever response G'raha might have received died under the weight of that near-desperate addition. S'ria curled more closely around G'raha's back, shifting to press his face into his neck. The first hitching sob was muffled into fabric, as were the next few, but it was impossible to mistake the sound for anything else.

S'ria wanted to be doing almost anything except starting to cry while cuddled up against G'raha. If he drew away, though, G'raha could look at him in the dim lighting, and that would be too much. If he stayed like this, hiding his face, maybe they could both pretend it wasn't happening.

The worst part was that it felt good despite it all. Much-needed, if nothing else. The bitterness and anger quickly burned off of him for at least a time. Nearly the same moment the tears finally tapered off, S'ria fell into a restful and dreamless sleep.

[celestialheal]

👌❤️ (//I offer up everyone for platonic or romance or whatever lmao)

𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐉𝐈𝐒   ―――   🇦​​🇨​​🇨​​🇪​​🇵​​🇹​​🇮​​🇳​​🇬

you shouldn't tempt me with a good time, than, i will take it. let me give you my thoughts, one by one, okay?

alya : instant BFFs. she's a sage AND a rogue? and they like to please people? they will get along fantastically. nienna admires greatly anyone with high dexterity, as her clumsiness has been the reason she's been ridiculed all her life. but above all she likes people she can learn from, and i think alya could be open to sharing what they know.

rosemary : would also be a fast friend, she loves and appreciates entertainments and would constantly praise her for her powers. she actually could develop a tiny little crush on her.

alea : most likely the one she'd be most distant towards and at the same time, the one she'd worry the most. she doesn't really like the aggressive, mean streak they have, but she would try her best to be understanding and caring towards her nonetheless. nienna is a very loyal person once you've earned her trust, so if alea can/wants to fight her past, nienna will be with her all the way... if they embrace the darkness, though, she might become antagonistic.

gale : BIIG crush on gale, who are we kidding. he's charming, he's witty, he's knowledgeable, nienna is probably smitten to the point she'd listen to him read the baldurs mouth's print of the day and find it fascinating. would she ever tell him she feels this way? heavens, no. his presence on her life is far more important than her stupid feelings, she doesn't want to jeopardize what could be a great friendship. so watch her pinning in the background.

shadowheart : similar to alea, i think nienna doesn't know what to do of shadowheart, but wants to help her nonetheless. she doesn't mind she's a sharran, but she's a little appalled by the idea she knows torture techniques so well. she doesn't mind the lack of memory but she's taken aback by her lack of curiosity towards her past. is a whole bag of mixed feelings, but she'll does her best to soothe any pain the cleric may have.

[hyperfixationstation1]

I put a tiny version myself in a test tube and hold myself to the light. I am helpless to stop. I shake the vial, swirling it around and around and around, isolating myself to see myself in a contained space. I add no reactants. It’s only me. Around and around and around and around.

A loud, childish voice speaks behind me, “Ay-lee-ah-tore-rick.”

I turn around. It’s a small girl. 8 years old. Saturday dress covered in dirt around the hem. Horrible, tangled hair. Big eyes. Big toothy smile. Her clothes are ill-fitting. She’s a bit too fat. A bit too tall.

“I’m sorr-”

“Aleatoric!” She screams. “Aleatoric! ALEA-ALEA- ALEATORIC.”

I look at her, this whirlwind of a person. I want to say I don’t understand.

But I do.

“Aleatoric,” I repeat, smiling down at her.

She reaches up for the vial. I hand it to her. What else can I do? The subject is unmoving. Beaten to death. She looks into it, squinting to make sense of the small battered version of me, and frowns. “Why?”

I look at her, this eight year old, but I don’t have an answer. Not yet at least. So I look away and grab a green marker from my basket of half-used supplies and on the board next to my bed, I write the word “Aleatoric” underneath “Austerity” overlapping “Superfluity” and diagonal to “Infinitum”.

[uupiic]

More of Alea the Tiny, with Hodi, this time as heavenly choir in Kauf Hauptmann und Maid.

From “Die Letzte Schlacht”, 29/01/2021

*photoshop wouldn’t cooperate, so have one coloured and one B&W *shrug*

[solaetis-moved-blog]

i could just icon diarmuid for hou yi and no one will know the difference

[la-principessa-della-squadra]

💌Valentine's Day special!💌

La Squadra wants to take you out on a date! fem!reader

TW: Curses, Blasphemy, Striscia la notizia, Slurs

Valentine's Day, Naples

19:30 (6:30 p.m)

The headquarters are strangely silent. Bizarre. There's tension in the air, it's just like mission time, everyone's waiting for the enemy's slip up.

19:45 (6:45 p.m.)

The bathroom door on the second floor slightly opens. Pesci nervously checks out the surroundings. There's no one around. Even the hallway's mirror is clean. With a sigh of relief, the man carefully slips out of the bathroom, slowly closing the door on his way back. Before He can take another step, a familiar voice interrupts the quiet hallway.

"Pesci."

Prosciutto suddenly appears behind Pesci'back, startling him.

"AH!! Cazzo Fra', mi hai fatto prendere un colpo, c-che c'è, Prosciutto?"

(AH!!! Damn Fra', you scared the shit out of me, w-what's up, Prosciutto?)

Prosciutto slowly traps the poor guy against the door by menacingly getting closer to him.

"Come mai ti stai preparando? Esci con qualcuno?"

(Why did you get so dressed up for? Do you have a date with someone?)

Alea acta est. The die is cast. Prosciutto can spot a lie from a mile, so telling the truth is the only way around.Pesci is so upset that he's becoming part of the wooden door.

"In effetti teng' un appuntamento! Emh... Più o meno...S-Spero mi dica di sì..."

(I actually have a date! Um... Sort of...I-hope She'll say yes....)

By nervously looking down, Pesci notices that his Fra' his wearing his jimmy Choo's loafers with argyle socks... He only wears them when He's going out with a woman!

"Oh, ora è tutto chiaro. Buona fortuna allora...vai pure-"

(Oh, I see...Good luck then, you can go-)

Before Prosciutto can finish his sentence, Pesci frees himself detaching his body from the door while heading for the stairs.

"Emm.. grazie,frà..."

The guy is almost free, but suddenly a clock of a gun freezes his body. Pesci can literally feel the cold metal pushing into his neck.

"Pesci, Pesci, Pesci non mi hai lasciato finire-"

(Pesci, Pesci, Pesci, you didn't let me finish)

Prosciutto smiles.

" ...vai pure a casetta tua, caro il mio mammone, questa sera la signorina viene a cena con me. So benissimo che vuoi chiedere alla nuova arrivata di uscire...ma vedi, lei non è cosa per te..."

(...you can go back to your room, my dear mammone, the girl is having dinner with me this evening. and yes, I know you were trying to ask the new girl out...But You see, You're not her type.She's too good for you.)

He's trying to destroy his friend confidence. He's actually never been so mean but He's crazy about you and of course He's not the kind of guy who shares...

" ...Il 'buona fortuna' era per le tue minuscole cervella'.Una cazzata e te le faccio saltare."

(...The 'good luck' was for your tiny brains.One sudden move and I'll blow them out.)

Pesci quickly raises both of his hands as he feels a cold gun slide pressing between his neck and nape.

"FRÀTM MA SI USCIT' PAZZ?!"

(FRÀ Have you gone CRAZY?!)

"Zitto cocco di mamma. Ringrazia che non stia usando Grateful Death"

(Shut it mama's boy. You should feel Grateful that I'm not using my stand to knock you out.)

The situation is about to escalate to the worst when all of a sudden, the two gangsters hear a familiar whistling. Someone's coming from the stairs, merrily whistling "La donna è mobile" by Giuseppe Verdi. It's Formaggio! The man is hiding what looks like a heart shape box of Baci Perugina and a bottle of Falanghina wine under his right arm as he enters the hallway with nonchalance, pretending those two aren't even there.

" 'Sera"

" 'Sera...Oh aspetta un momento, FORMAGGIO DOVE PENSI DI ANDARE?!."

('Sera, Hey hold on a second, FORMAGGIO WHERE DO YOU THINK YOU'RE GOING?!)

"Mecojoni…"

Formaggio immediately sprints to the stairs leading to the attic, where your room is located. His plan was to show up to your room with chocolate and wine, so the two of you could get drunk and possibly fuck. Unfortunately for him, his plans quickly go up in smoke. But before he can even set his foot on the first stair-step, Formaggio is tackled by Prosciutto and Pesci. Luckily, the bottle doesn't break, but the Box gets crushed by Formaggio's own body.

"AARGH!Levatevi di dosso 'a infami froc*aroli!! Prosciutto io te sdrumo!! Te- AO!! LEVATE! T’arivorto come ‘n pedalino PORCODD*O! Me stai a sgara’ li cojoni!!LEVATE!"

(AARGH! Get off me you thirsty fagg*ts!!! Prosciutto I'm going to destroy you! I'm-AO!! GET OFF ME! I'll skin you alive PORCODD*O!You're pissing me off! GET UP!)

"OHI Pesci! Tienilo fermo!"

(Ohi Pesci,hold him!)

"Ci sto provando, Fra'!"

(I'm trying,Fra'!)

Formaggio starts loudly protesting in roman slang and tries to kick the two guys off. In a fit of exasperation, His left hand is about to reach the bottle of Falanghina that rolled a few meters away. Before he can actually grab the wine, a pair of red sneakers step right near his head. Ghiaccio's exited his bedroom, and He doesn't seem in a good mood.

"Formaggio..."

he growls

"Adexo mi spiegate perché, Cancaro di quel D*O, STATE IN MEZZO AL CORRIDOIO A INGROPPARVI A VICENDA!?DIOCANE ! NON C'È MAI PACE IN QUESTO BUCO DI MERDA!STATE SEMPRE A FARE BORDELLO!DIOPOMPELMO"

(Care to explain why YOU FUCKING 'TARDS ARE TRYING TO FINGER EACH OTHER IN THE MIDDLE OF THE HALLWAY?! D*O CANE! THERE'S NEVER PEACE IN THIS SHITHOLE!).

Prosciutto gets up, not cause Ghiaccio told them to, but because his Gucci suit is wrinkling. Formaggio has now the occasion to shake Pesci off his back and stand up again.

"State a pattina’ sur filo der vaffanculo. Guardate come mi avete ridotto la scatola di cioccolatini!"

(You're on thin ice. Just look at what you've done to my box of chocolates!)

He counters while picking up the heart-shaped box, it looks like someone ran over it with their car.

"Quanto baccano per una festa così mediocre"

(So much fuss for such a mediocre celebration)

The tall figure of illuso leaned over the giant hallway mirror. With a sly smile, Illuso approaches the small group, observing them almost with a sense of superiority. All He need is his charme to make you falla at his feet. At least, this is what He thinks...

"Comunque I Ferrero Rochet sono più bboni dei Baci Perugina"

(Ferrero Rocher are better than Baci Perugina)

"Ah. Ora siamo anche degli esperti di cioccolatini!Mio Maître chocolatier del cazzo!"

(Ah. Now we're also chocolate experts! My fucking Maître chocolatier!))

"Guarda che ti hanno fatto un favore.Ma dove vorresti andare con quella robaccia da due soldi? Che poraccio."

(They did you a favor. What do you think you're doing with that cheap junk? Such a lack of taste.)

"Illuso.Te do ‘na pizza che t’arestano pe’ vagabondaggio!!!"

(Illuso. If You don't shut up, I AM gonna smack the taste out of your mouth!!)

"OH MA PORCAMAD*NNA CHE COSA TI HO APPENA DETO,FORMAGGIO?!"

(OH PORCAMD*NNA, WHAT THE FUCK DID I JUST TOLD YOU FORMAGGIO!?)

"Non urlare, deficente."

(Stop screaming, you stupid.)

counters Prosciutto while checking his hair in the same mirror Illuso used.

"Scusa Ghiaccio, Che cos'hai in mano?"

(Sorry Ghiaccio, What's that thing you're holding?)

Asks Pesci, interrupting the trio and pointing at the man's hand. Ghiaccio goes silent. He's clearly holding what looks like a love letter squeezed between his fist.

"...Bolletta dell'Enel."

(...Light bill.)

And Ghiaccio Lied.

"Oh ma davvero?Non ti avevano bandito dalle Poste Italiane di Napoli dopo che hai preso a calci la torretta Spid? E da quando la bolletta dell'Enel è piena di cuoricini?"

(Oh really? Weren't you banned from the Naples Post Office after you kicked their ATM ? And since when are there tiny hearts on the light bill?)

Finally Ghiaccio comes clean

"E VA BENE! È una lettera per voi sapete chi, l'ho scritta di mio pugno e-"

( ALRIGHT FINE! It's a letter for you know who, I wrote it myself and...)

Illuso cuts him immediately:

"-HAHAHAH! Una lettera?! E chi sei? Mio nonno in guerra??"

( -HAHAH! A letter?! Who do you think you are? My grandpa during the war?!)

" 'TASI MONA CHE TE DAGO UNA SMEMENA DIOCAN! Io e lei siamo estremamente compatibili! LO AMERA' '"

(SHUT UP YOU IDIOT, SOONER OR LATER YOU'RE GONNA CATCH THESE HANDS, DIOCAN! We're the perfect match! She will LOVE it! )

"compatibili?"

(The perfect...match?)

Suddenly, the door on their left creaks, opening with exasperating slowness. Melone is plunged into darkness, his face lit only by his languid laptop.

"Non penso proprio, bischeri. Sehondo ir mio Baby Face, io e la cittina siamo compatibili al 97% ma stasera ho intenzione di trascinarla nel mio letto e di provare ogni posizione possibile!! ANDRÀ DI MORTO BENE!"

(You guys are so naive. According to my Baby Face, the new girl and I have a solid 97% chance to be compatible. But tonight is the night, I am going to drag her into my bed and try every sexual position possible to see if the percentage gets higher!!! DI MOLTO!)

"Il mostro di Firenze, Signori."

(Gentlemens, The Monster of Florence)

Remarks Prosciutto in disgust and Ghiaccio immediately follows:

"TU NON STAI BENE CAZZO. CURATI."

(YOU'RE FUCKING INSANE, GET SOME HELP, MELONE!)

"A zorro, ariccojte ‘a sciabbola, che neanche tu fai 100"

(Calm down Ghiaccio, You're not 100% sane either.)

counters Formaggio while wheezing.

"Andateci piano, picciriddi."

(Quiet,children.)

"We,Parli tu Forma? Ma figurati se la nuova ragazza vuole anche solo avvicinarsi a un pirla come te"

(You're one who's talking, Forma? The new girl doesn't even want to get close to a jerk like you.)

" Devi solo che abbozzà, che quando parli sembri er cazzo de Gabibbo!!"

((Try me bitch, You're nothing but a cheapskate, You didn't even got her a present!)

"A chi hai dato del Genovese Brutto pezzo di merda?!"

(Who did you call cheapskate you piece of shit?!)

"Di morto bene~ Boia deh, ora son guai."

(Di molto~ You can start the catfight!"

" TASI MELONE. TANTO SAPPIAMO TUTTI CHE SEI UN PISANO DI MERDA.MI SON ROTTO IL CAZZO IO VADO SU"

(SHUT YOUR MOUTH MELONE, IT'S ALL YOUR FAULT! THAT'S IT. I'M GOING UPSTAIRS!!)

"OH. Non pensarci nemmeno, minchione!!"

(OH. Don't you even think about it, bitch!!)

The entire gang tries to rush up the stairs, all at once, squirming and frantically attempting to block each other's way, until...

"Uagliò..Sento dei passi"

(Guys...I hear footsteps...)

"Sta scendendo..." For some reason, Prosciutto is not so sure. However, He's still hearing the footsteps.

( She' s on her way down..)

"Giù, giù, giù! Fate come se niente fosse!"

(Back off! Back off! Back off!!Quickly! Act like nothing happened )

All the men display themselves along the hallway as if they were on the cover of Vogue Italia. As they are posing like professional models, the footsteps get closer.

"Stiamo a fare comunella come le scolarette nei bagni?"

( Mumbling and Cackling like schoolgirls in a bathroom?)

Risotto emerges from the shadows, holding a bouquet of black roses almost as big as he is. The tension is palpable. Before anyone else can actually say a single thing, Risotto cuts it short:

" La picciotta ha già un appuntamento stasera."

(She's already on a date with someone else.)

#E CON CHI??!#

#WITH WHO??!#

20:02 (08:02 p.m)

Meanwhile in a romantic restaurant called "Renzo e Lucia", a man with a black bob cut and eyes as blue as the sea, is merrily chatting with you as he holds your hand.

Bruno: Che cosa ti va mangiare, amore?

(What would like to eat, amore?)

[echodrops]

Finally Finished Endwalker

I was delayed a lot by work, but I finally managed to finish Endwalker and boy do I have Thoughts™.

Under the read more to hide spoilers, but if you’re on mobile and the read more didn’t work, please be aware the rest of this post is full to brim with

Endwalker spoilers!

Things I Loved:

1. That entire sequence in Garlemald hit like a truck. Watching Jullus recognize the trauma he had experienced was deeply moving. “Alea Iacta Est” was one of the most atmospheric and stage-setting quests in the game.

2. The humor sprinkled in throughout that kept the otherwise ridiculously dark storyline from becoming too overwhelming. Finding out Estinien is actually terrible with money, that Urianger curls into a ball when he feels sick, and that Alphinaud has fanboys was all so emotionally relieving after the literal crushing despair of the plot’s main events.

3. Vrtra. Just... Everything about Vrtra, especially his relationship with Estinien. Watching Estinien play big brother to a fifty-ton dragon with self-esteem issues is just so heartwarming and fantastic. I absolutely love the way dragons are handled in FFXIV--they both fulfill that ancient dragon lore itch, of the towering beast that ferociously guards its hoard (in Vrtra’s case, the hoard is people), but the FFXIV dragons are also all incredibly unique characters with decidedly human personalities, challenges, and feelings. Seeing Estinien find such respect and care for the First Brood continues to delight over and over again.

4. Lunatender... Lunatender...

5. The character interactions were absolutely what makes Endwalker. FFXIV in general would not receive nearly as much acclaim if it weren’t for the genuine love that goes into the writing of each character and their interactions with others. Alphinaud proving himself to his father, Urianger finding closure for Moenbryda’s death through her parents, sharing stories of joy with Venat on the wall in Elpis, Emet-Selch’s utter refusal to be seen as emotionally vulnerable... Every moment of the story was overflowing with the writers’ love for their characters, and the tiny interactions between these figures who we have known and cared for for so long elevate Endwalker into something truly magical. I cried like seven times, I don’t know about you.

6. Azem. The concept of Azem in general. The absolute care and attention that went into building the concept of Azem and tying it directly into the player’s literal journey from a level one newbie adventurer to a god-slaying Warrior of Light is just incredible. Every time the idea of traveling, drinking in the wonders of the world, and the hint of adventures still left to be enjoyed comes up in the story, the profound feeling of love this triggers in the player is nothing short of masterfully done. Being “the Traveler” is simply wonderful, both in the game and as a concept applied to the real-life players. Venat being the previous Azem was a super clever way to make players immediately care for her.

7. Related to this, the cultural influences on each zone truly give the game a global feeling. Experiencing India in Thavnair and revolutionary Russia in Garlemald (this last one surprised me; always thought it had a more Roman vibe), the ancient Greece of Elpis, and the hilariously British feel to Sharlayan creates the sense that the world of Etheirys is as wide and varied as our own. Zones are good stuff in this expansion. Ultima Thule left such an impression on me, I’m still thinking about it now.

8. The music. I don’t even need to say anything else. I resented every quest sound and battle sound effect in the last zone for interrupting my listening experience.

9. The new side characters. They really nailed it with the side characters this time around. Erenville’s push to unionize the gleaners was fantastic, Loifa getting clowned on in his own quest line was endearing, Matsya’s struggle in the jungle, Ahewann’s sacrifice... Incredibly well done side characters throughout. Hythlodaeus is single-handedly the best ancient.

10. There is a lot of underlying allusion and connotation to unpack with Meteion, especially in terms of stories like “the bluebird of happiness” and the--I’m sure--intentional references to alchemy through the concept of the “Bird of Hermes.” Although I didn’t quite think that this story had the depth of allusion that Shadowbringers did, it’s not without its Easter egg bonuses for those who are well-versed in literature.

11. Endwalker selected a “moral of the story” and ran with it. This expansion had a point worth making about life and finding joy in our experiences even though we all also experience suffering. It is a valuable and timely message that undoubtedly hit many, many players very hard.

Things I Disliked:

Hoo boy. Where to start. Listen. If you take Endwalker at its surface level, it is the pinnacle of classical JRPG. It absolutely feels like being back in the 90s, playing FF6, FF7, FF9, etc., the games that reshaped your very understanding of JRPG and 90s’ video games in the first place. It has all the hallmarks of truly classic Final Fantasy through and through: quirky party members, the bizarre mash up of technology and magic that just somehow works in concept, the weird jokes, your party members following along behind you like ducklings, random mini games that appear without warning, the bosses that literally stepped out of Yoshitaka Amano artwork, the spectacular, over-the-top battles with planets being thrown around, and most notably... a high-stakes story line that makes absolutely no sense if you think about it too hard.  

I loved everything about Endwalker except the actual plot. On an individual level, the dialogue of the characters was masterfully written. Everything had an incredible emotional impact. But it’s putting it gently to say the plot was a mess.

Fandaniel wants to kill everyone because he’s actually Amon, who wants to kill everyone because he enabled the collapse of his own society, because he’s actually Hermes who accidentally initiated the downfall of his society and killed everyone because he’s a member of PETA--

The elder primal, Lord of Darkness Incarnate you were looking forward to fighting for eight years is nothing but a husk to be possessed by said ancient clown and your character will kill him 1/4 of the way through the story as if he were nothing more than a stepping stone only to realize you done fucked up and now the deaths of thousands of people are on your hands--and at no point in the story will anyone ever say “Man it probably would have been better for you to not stand there and watch dumbly while Fandaniel possessed Zodiark, WoL. You could have interrupted his monologue at any moment. Thanks for kickstarting the Final Days again, bro.”

Half way through your story, the narrative will be high-jacked by a bunch of talking rabbits, who, while cute, also serve as a walking deus ex machina plot device to dump anything you could possibly need for the rest of the story directly into your character’s pocket, all while no explanation for their existence--which breaks several previously established rules of the game’s world-building--is ever given.

And then we get the fucking time travel. Let’s actually just put aside the frustrating idea that this entire scene contradicts the pre-established rules of time travel in FFXIV (that you can, in fact, change the past, and doing so just creates splinter timelines). Did I love going to Elpis and seeing Emet-Selch, Hythlodaeus (truly a joy), and learning about Venat? FOR SURE. Did Hermes pose an interesting moral dilemma in his love for all creatures great and small? Definitely. Does any of the rest of it make sense with the rules FFXIV established earlier? Not in the slightest.

It was literally laid out in previous works that things created with creation magic do not have souls. They can acquire souls by accident, spontaneously at the time of creation, or their off-spring can eventually acquire souls if they adhere to the natural order of the world. So why does no one fucking bat an eyelash at Meteion? Where did her soul come from? Is Hermes really so constantly overwrought by the deaths of subjects that, for the most part, shouldn’t even have souls?

Then we get the memory wipe nonsense with Kairos, which, honestly, while another painfully obvious plot device, would at least have made the entire fact that we went back in time to Elpis no longer a plothole-inducing nightmare... But Venat isn’t caught in the memory wipe.

Venat isn’t caught in the memory wipe. Which means she knows everything. She knows Meteion is the cause of the Final Days, she knows what is coming with Zodiark and Hydaelyn, she knows the future of mankind...

And she does nothing to stop any of it.

She lets the apocalypse happen. She lets Zodiark happen. She makes the Sundering happen.

“Oh but Echo,” I hear you saying, “the Convocation wouldn’t have believed her so she had no way to stop the Final Days from happening.” Absolute nonsense. HERMES KNOWS ABOUT DYNAMIS. You’re really going to tell me that Elidibus wouldn’t have at least listened and considered what she had to say? That Azem--who was still on the Convocation at the time--wouldn’t have sided with her if she told them an alien entity was attacking their planet? Absolute nonsense through and through.

“Oh but Echo, she had to let Zodiark happen because there was no way to shield the planet from Meteion’s Dynamis without him.” The story is really trying to tell me that people who can create entire living beings from thin air could not have come up with a better plan to shield their planet than CREATING A GOD if they were given proper warning and actually knew what was attacking them? More nonsense.

“Oh but Echo, she had to Sunder the Ancients because she needed people who could deal with despair and manipulate Dynamis to defeat Meteion.” Again, is the story really trying to tell us that there was no other way than BREAKING REALITY to develop beings capable of manipulating Dynamis? HERMES CREATED METEION. My head hurts, guys.

“Oh but Echo, Venat had to Sunder everyone because they were seeking perfection and seeking perfection is what leads to the stagnation of civilizations! They would have been their own downfall if she let them stay that course!” The story doubles down on this idea that “perfection leads to stagnation” so many times over the course of the latter zones that it’s actually painful, but it’s portrayed in such a stupidly black and white way that it breaks immersion in an otherwise fairly politically realistic story. Are you really trying to tell me that every single society in the universe that ever achieved health and prosperity eventually devoured itself from the inside out because of unflagging extremist values and that none of them ever managed to just... modulate themselves and tend toward mediocrity again? None of them ever managed to change course?

There was really no other way to prevent cultural stagnation than breaking people’s souls into tiny pieces and inventing the concepts of war, famine, disease, suffering, and violent death? No incremental social change? Ancients can create gods but can’t create the concept of activism? My head really, really hurts.

“Oh but Echo, Venat had to do all those things because she knew the WoL was from the future and she had to protect the WoL’s timeline and people too.”

Yes, the people she created by fucking up so badly in the past.

Being more serious, the real issue with Venat’s actions after Elpis is that they have nothing to do with her genuine character. None of the choices are organic. Instead, they are all done in service to the plot. The Final Days needs to happen, Zodiark needs to happen, Hydaelyn needs to happen, and the Sundering needs to happen all because the pre-established plot demands that they do. Venat’s choices after Elpis don’t happen because they are genuinely how a person in her role and with her personality would actually act--they’re just what the plot NEEDS her to do. She becomes nothing more than a sock puppet for the story rather than actually having any agency of her own. Couple all this with the retcon to Hydaelyn’s motivations that happened with Shadowbringers, and we have the recipe for truly bungled character.

And the stupidest thing is that none of these questions needed to exist--if Venat had been caught in Kairos’s memory wipe too, we would have had no doubts about her motivations and would have just said “She did all those things because she didn’t remember the future; she was only trying to stop Zodiark. She didn’t know about Meteion and had no idea they could have stopped her themselves all along...” etc. If she had just forgotten like Emet-Selch and Hythlodaeus, there would have been no issue, so why???

And that bungling occurs at all levels, introducing as many plot holes as there are shards of the star. Where did the Loporitts get their souls? How do the Loporitts have creation magic? Why would Hydaelyn tell the Sharlayans to build a spaceship when the Ancients KNOW HOW TO CREATE TELEPORTERS? How did Hydaelyn “Send Fandaniel far away”--HE CAN TELEPORT!! Why turn the moon into your escape device when it also houses Zodiark? Oh no, our memory has been wiped by this mysterious Kairos “explosion”! It sure would be convenient if we had a magical power that let us view memories left behind, imprinted on each location... Yeah, too bad that doesn’t exist, right?

Then we get to the main message of the expansion: life is hard, but you can’t give in to despair. Totally fine. Great message even, very meaningful and relevant to our time. But then the story applies this message seemingly randomly.

If it had just been a straightforward: we’re all mortal, death is inevitable, but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t make the most of life, it would have made perfect sense. The problem is that they also had the dimension of having the utopian world of the Ancients. So they had to figure out how to justify the downfall from utopia to painful mortality, and then still give people the message that life was worth living. Their solution to this conundrum was to suggest that the downfall of civilizations that seek perfection is inevitable, and that the act of seeking perfection is itself what causes cultures to collapse, and therefore mortality and failure is necessary for society to keep on persisting.

But then they’re all over the place with this idea. The dragons were literally doing nothing, just living their lives, and death came for them anyway. Sure the ancients might have been on the path to stagnation, but it wasn’t stagnation that wiped out their society; it was entirely by random chance that Meteion happened to experience what she did and happened to be able to control Dynamis the way she could. Seek perfection and you die. Don’t seek perfection and... you still die.

If any society that strives to eliminate war and famine is doomed for a downfall, then what has been the purpose of all our Warrior of Light’s peacekeeping and nation-uniting actions up to this point? We’ve spent five games’ worth of time and effort now trying to eliminate Etheirys’s wars, heal the sick, fight for freedoms--only to now hear that the only reward of the very course we’ve whole-heartedly committed our characters to for eight years now might be the eventual fall of our planet?

The ultimate point of the story is that nihility is terrible and mankind’s greatest strength is his ability to hold on to hope and not give up despite facing endless suffering. That living and pursuing your dreams in life is essential to continuing to lift yourself from the dust again and again... But also, don’t pursue your dreams too hard because if you succeed in achieving all your dreams, YOU’LL KILL YOUR ENTIRE SOCIETY.

In trying to make a powerful statement against nihility but also using fantasy races of immortals as their examples, the plot becomes an ouroboros that eats itself: The more your character strives to help people, end wars, unite countries, and make the world a better place, the closer Etheirys comes to perfection--and therefore, apparently, to total fucking annihilation.

Endwalker tried to tie too many disparate plot threads and references together to really create the sensation of a finale, but in trying to tie so many threads together, they created a tangle that will unravel if you think at it too hard.

And just... the tension was never where it needed to be in the last half of the story! How were we supposed to be afraid for the scions sacrificing themselves in Ultima Thule KNOWING that Hydaelyn had just specifically given us the power to bring them back from that exact thing??? When base Shadowbringers was ending, I was completely on the edge of my seat, wondering what would happen, how we’d overcome both Hades and the light, how we’d get back up to do the fight, how our character would get out of the recreation of the Final Days... And when Ardbert handed us his axe and G’raha summoned champions from beyond the rift, it was like watching the puzzle pieces all fall perfectly into place. The feeling of satisfaction was immense. Watching all the NPCs gather in Sharlayan was nice, but there was never any doubt or concern for that obvious outcome. There were no stakes because everything was telegraphed so blatantly. The creation magic, the personal teleporter... Ultima Thule’s plot got the wind taken out of its sails because it was supposed to be about our character “holding on to hope and not giving into despair,” but because it was blatantly obvious that no one was in any actual danger and all the scions sacrificing themselves would be immediately undone in the end, the story in Ultima Thule gives us nothing to despair over and nothing we would desperately need to hope for either. It was disappointing to not get to experience those feelings fully because the plot devices were simply way too obvious.

Anyway, look, I can’t think about the plot for much longer or I’ll get brain cancer, so let me just talk about something else:

The pacing of the story varies wildly, and the order in which you start the MSQ really impacts the flow of the beginning of the expansion.

Splitting players in to two different zones makes sense to reduce the load of players in opening areas. Doing this in Shadowbringers worked well because whether you picked Alisaie or Alphinaud, you got a similar brief experience and then were able to move into the first dungeon without a noticeable delay. However, in Endwalker, if you choose to start in Thavnair instead of Sharlayan, the pacing of the expansion’s opening is utterly destroyed. Dealing with the drama of Nidhana being kidnapped and Fandaniel being there tormenting you in the tower... only to then leave and do a bunch of joke quests about reading books and turning into frogs to stealth past your adopted kids’ dad literally sucks all tension out of the opening before the first dungeon. And, in general, the push to the first dungeon is way too long--literally twice the number of quests it took to get the first dungeon in Shadowbringers, with twice as many cutscenes and significantly fewer battles. Unless you start in Sharlayan, the pace of the opening before reaching the first dungeon is terrible.

And the same thing happens again on the moon. The Loporitts are cute, but you’ve literally just been told that your actions straight up RESTARTED THE APOCALYPSE. Trying out blue carrots and taking a bunny on a walk ring as nothing more than hollow diversions from an already tenuously held together plot line. I like the Loporitts, but having to spend all that time exploring the moon base was a disaster in terms of maintaining the natural progression of the story.

My only other truly major gripe was the villains. After writing such a fantastic villain in Emet-Selch, seeing this expansion’s meandering villains was such a let down. Anima was completely over-hyped and underdeveloped in the story; there should have been so much more to that reveal. The horror of hacking your own father up to use his limbs to create mindless slaves to the empire via propaganda is interesting, but the radio aspect under-utilized--if the radio had been the medium through which Varis’s tempering was spread, I think that would have been much more interesting.

Zenos had zero actual role in the plot except as a deus ex machina at the end; he was just... there. No contributions to 9/10ths of the story, just... there. At the beginning, I thought we might actually get some kind of character growth out of him, but even all the way to the end of the story, he is never able to bridge the gap between himself and others. All the way to the final scene, he never understands the Warrior of Light. He still just asserts his own version of events into every line of his dialogue, and that’s... sad. It’s sad to see a character that could have been really interesting just flounder in a plot that is SO RELEVANT to his (obviously nihilistic) character and yet gives him absolutely nothing to do. There is no way you can convince me “Zenos learns life has meaning after meeting Meteion, the embodiment of despair” wouldn’t have been an infinitely more logical plot for his character. And there’s so much they just never explained... Why become a reaper? Why does he get such a unique voidsent avatar? Why did he dream of the Final Days? I can only assume he isn’t really dead and will be coming back to have more of a role in the future, so they’re leaving questions unanswered for now, but it was not satisfying.

Fandaniel being Amon was interesting but also criminally under-developed. We should have gotten much more extended flashbacks to the Allagans to really highlight the comparison between the Allagans and the Ancients and to show Amon‘s struggles with the dreams of horror of Hermes’ past. To really understand his motivations and his reason for choosing to cling to “Amon” specifically instead of Hermes, we needed much more of Amon himself.

And don’t get me started on Hermes. Just... don’t. Did I sniffle a little watching him say goodbye to the liokanes that had to be returned to concepts? Yes. Did the ending voiceover of granting Meteion the Elpis flowers in Ultima Thule hit me hard? Yes. Does anything else about this character make sense? No.

His point that the Ancients are callous towards their creations would feel a lot more relevant if it wasn’t a last second retcon that the Ancients could even create things with souls in them. Since it was previously established that their creations don’t contain souls, his bleeding heart just comes across as a bit bizarre. There’s also no explanation for why he--and he alone!--seems to have this bleeding heart, when all the others are ambivalent. It’s even kind of vaguely implied that due to having so much aether, the ancients can’t interact with Dynamis easily, and therefore you might think their feelings are more muted than humans’ would be--but not Hermes. For no reason that the story ever bothers to explain, he just really, really, really cares.

He cares so much that he hears one report’s worth of terrible news and decides... to kill everyone. Including his precious animals.

Hermes: Death is NOT beautiful.

Hermes, ten seconds later: I’LL SEND US ALL INTO OBLIVION.

This character is the literal definition of “That escalated quickly.” Even if he was faced with despair on a cosmic level, the absolute and ultimate futility of life, is that really enough to make such a gentle and peaceful man actively decide to kill everyone?

The jump from 0 to 100 happened too fast and without sufficient development to make it genuinely believable.

And what’s this fucking shit with retconning tempering to be “just something the Ascians threw in”? If Zodiark wasn’t tempering people, then that meant he was literally just doing his fucking job, bothering no one, being a savior... and Hydaelyn beat the shit out of him and imprisoned him for 12,000 years for ENTIRELY NO REASON. What a horrible life for a being to have. To be honest, this idea right here is probably the worst thing Endwalker had to offer, and I hope they fix it in the future, because retconning tempering that hard just invalidates so much of the previous story that it’s actually offensive to my sensibilities.

What do I even say about Meteion? I liked her? I felt terrible for her? Her boss design was cool and very classic Final Fantasy, but... at the end of the day, she was just disappointing compared to the theories I had been formulating in my head about what the “Sound” from beneath the earth might be for the two years since Shadowbringers. I really believed we would be dealing with some cosmic invader that feasted upon living planets to gorge itself, etc. Finding out that the cause of the Final Days was instead just a single misguided familiar invented by a single misguided Ancient tuned the scale of hype down a lot.

Not going to lie, but between the idea of a sound from under the earth and the previews of Elpis looking so much like Zeal, plus the announcement of the Chrono Cross remake, I was really, really hoping they’d be linking in some Chrono Trigger/Chrono Cross material in the story, and I was SO GAME for the “sound” to end up actually being Lavos.

Sighhhhhhh.

Anyway, this is already so stupidly long, but speaking of missed opportunities, there were three other things that I really wished we had gotten instead:

1. The final dungeon shouldn’t have been random other worlds; it should have been glimpses into the calamities that destroyed the other shards. All they had to do was throw in some line for Meteion like: "Hydaelyn tried to sunder Etheirys to protect its people from me, but no heart is shielded from dynamis. I am wherever hopelessness lives, even inside your palest reflections--" And then BAM, the dungeon opens and it’s the previous shards experiencing the calamities of wind, water, earth, lightning, etc. That would have been so much more meaningful (and a better way to close out on the shard/calamity plot) than just random collapsing planets.

2. Why do Hydaelyn and Zodiark look nothing like their statues and previous hints we’ve gotten of them? I understand they wanted to match the Amano artwork but the Amano artwork doesn’t match the story. Whyyyyyy?

3. I will never forgive Square Enix for not ending the last cutscene with the question “Where will you go, Warrior of Light?” and giving us the dialogue option “Wither the wild rose blooms.” HOW COULD YOU MISS THE EASIEST FUCKING CALLBACK, HOW--!!!

(Oh and also, one last gripe I just recalled... there were way too many follow missions at the beginning of the story. I actually liked traveling and chatting with the characters when the quests were meaningful, but some of these quests just existed specifically to show off the devs’ cool new thing. I get that they were excited but it was excessive at the start. Just saying.)

Anyway, overall, Endwalker gets a solid 7/10 from me. I cried like seven times. (It gets one point for every time it made me cry.) The character work and interactions were beyond words incredible. The music, atmosphere, zones, and battles were stunning. But the story was just so full of plotholes and underdeveloped villains, so many places where the characters were ramrodded into stupid actions simply to forward the very specific moral message the developers were trying to send the players, that I can’t forgive it.

Did I like Endwalker? Yes. But is it an example of good storytelling? No.

I’ll just be over here enjoying the little things in life, I guess...

(It’s me. I’m the little thing.)

[kvarenje]

A rare cryptid sighting (And also my hawkfish Ace)

[writeblrfantasy]

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pax said he liked my clothing descriptions and i haven't been able stop thinking about that so i put together this compilation!! from acogs, brenin, oots, a short from gkbk i'm working on, and the farlingverse. i hope you love all of these because i'm super proud of all of them <3<3

taglists and ts under the cut

Katya is dressed in a brilliant red velvet gown whose floor length skirt trails behind her. Gold is embroidered onto the hem of the skirt and the bodice, supported by a thin red strap that curves around her neck. Her orange hair covers her shoulders in loose curls, two parts on either side pulled back from her face and secured with a ribbon on her head like always. She wears no jewelry on her pale, freckled skin, and the neckline of the gown teases her breasts.

In a few minutes, one huge golden ring will sit on her right middle finger. Nikolai pictures it now.

Beautiful and mighty, she’s sitting on the old throne of the temple, from when this was the palace and Aspiania was the capital. The fingers of her left hand curl over the white armrests, and she leans her head back onto the red cushion there. Green eyes dulled behind the wire frames of her spectacles have the power to freeze an empire, a whole world.

Nikolai is more interested in the drawn golden sword in her right hand.

~

Esme is wearing custom made robes in a beautiful mix of red, dark blue, and purple, with a sash and hems of shimmering gold. Embroidery of the sun and moon decorate patches in tiny patterns, stars covering every inch of them.

In traditional Tan style, they wrap around his shoulders and tie at his waist with the knot in the back, the sleeves loose and flared out at the wrists. They go down to his feet, covered in polished black boots. His black hair is sparkled with gold dust, but it’s forever too long and strands fall into his eyes.

He grins when he sees Laurent across the temple for the first time, dopey eyed, as Laurent’s soul evaporates from his body. It’s a remarkable testament to his self-restraint that he doesn’t cross the temple in three strides and tackle Esme to the ground.

~

Feryn looks truly like an angel, or a god, or grace incarnate. No veil covers her head, but her white hair hangs loose round her face. Cygnus was expecting curls, or a braid with flowers, or an updo with a diamond circlet wrapping her hair. But the reality is plain. And it’s beautiful.

She’s wearing cosmetics, he’s sure, but he can’t see them well. Her brown eyes just look a little brighter than normal, her lashes a little longer, her cheeks a little fuller. She smiles at him with warm eyes and pink lips.

Her gown is something he’s been looking forward to seeing and endlessly imagining ever since she and Lian got engaged. Like her hair, it’s much simpler than expected. The fabric is shiny like satin, the straps thin and the bodice plain like the gown Evan wore to her bridal shower.

Unlike Evan’s, the neckline dips, and the skirt of Feryn’s dress is slim. Feryn must be wearing shoes with tall heels, because Cygnus knows she isn’t naturally this tall. Or perhaps it’s just her posture, the straight back, the easy, content way she holds herself.

~

Feryn, who asked Cygnus to trust her when he asked what he would be wearing at the play, dresses him in bright red silk robes with drapes over the shoulders that blow out behind him. She says she had them made especially for tonight. Cygnus is rendered speechless, reminded of the luxury he lives as king. Feryn seems only pleased.

The shoulders and collar are decorated in sapphires and embroidered in gold. The robes don’t allow trousers to show that much, so he wears plain black. Feryn chooses polished black shoes with gold trim, and a red and gold clip for his hair.

When he looks in the mirror, he thinks he’s dressed for the most pristine play in the whole country, not Cherie’s little central company.

~

“Valerie—” Ruby begins, words dying in her throat as Cygnus holds up a hand. A rich sapphire ring adorns on his hand, and that’s not the only finery he’s wearing. His silk jacket of dark green is bejeweled with glittering gems and delicate piping. His boots are shinier than she’s ever seen them, and with his purple cloak and combed hair, he’s obviously going to meet someone important.

~

Like every other lady in the castle, Ruby allows Feryn to force her into nice clothes. She refuses the robes Feryn brought out, heavy red velvet, and chooses instead black breeches, a fine shirt, and an ornate jacket. The jacket is dull green, trimmed in gold and fastened with gleaming buttons. Ruby pulls on a new pair of black boots and actually gives some thought to her hair, after a moment permitting Feryn to braid it down her back. It’s all tedious to her, but she’ll endure it to keep poor Cygnus company.

~

“Come in,” came Alea’s voice at my first knock. I opened the door, watching Moureen muttering and fussing over Alea’s dress. The mix of sea greens and blues complimented her beautiful hair, some curls braided into a crown around her head, the rest lying around her shoulders. I couldn’t hold back a grin.

“What?” she asked.

“You look beautiful. I have something for you,” I said, bringing forth the box from behind my back and thrusting it into her hands. I motioned for her to open it.

“Oh, Bren, you didn’t have to—” She opened it, her mouth falling open. “Oh, my—” Alea turned and set the box down, picking up the jade and sapphire teardrop earrings that I’d bought her in the shop. It must’ve been the gods’ will for the dress and earrings to match perfectly, making her green eyes stand out. She looked every bit the duchess, every bit a queen.

~

Alea was in a stunning gold ballgown that glittered and shone when she moved. The skirt was embellished with pearls and diamonds, dripping and glittering. Her hair was up, a white flower hairpin keeping it out of her eyes. She smiled, and her green eyes looked even more beautiful than ever. I told her so. She laughed like she didn’t believe me.

~

More footsteps came to the door. I glanced up at Moureen, who was coming in with my freshly shined shoes. Thales hovered in the doorway in front of Lakus. I looked him over, taking in his bright blue jacket, adorned with gold trim and beading. The finished jacket looked much better now than it had during yesterday’s boring afternoon in the store. I found myself catching my breath.

He gave me a small smile. “You look good. The green, uh, looks good.”

I did something with my hands. “Thanks, I guess.” My jacket was well done. Light green and silver, pearl buttons and dark stitching. I chose the silver just to get on Lakus’s nerves, since I knew Danda couldn’t care less about whether people wore gold or not.

Lakus, by contrast, had bright, gaudy orange on. There was so much gold on him I could feel the money, and I grimaced, looking away from him after a glance.

~

Cerrick doesn’t recognize anyone else in the purples, reds, yellows, but he sees his man in the center of the pack in bright blue and green armor, cloak fluttering out behind him. his horse is gray, mottled with black spots, shorter than the rest. His sword is gleaming in his right hand, black gloves clutching the hilt like one born to it. His braid sticks out of his polished blue helmet, shining in the sun. Cerrick doesn’t care if Olin laughs at him for his reaction, he still curses softly under his breath.

Njord is beautiful.

The knights run a few casual circles around the stadium, waving to the crowd. Cerrick watches the crowd hand their knight of choice bracelets, charms, wreaths with fresh flowers braided into them.

acogs taglist (lmk to be added/removed) @magic-is-something-we-create @inkflight @spencer-nyx @writing-is-a-martial-art @ashen-crest @wisteria-eventide @nikkywrites @denkis-phone-charger @myhusbandsasemni @lynolord @ettawritesnstudies @golden-apple-s-blog @chazzawrites @pen-of-roses @47crayons @wickerring @sleepy-night-child @florraisons @faithfire @croctears @inkovert @kait-writes

fv taglist (lmk to be added/removed): @mel-writes-with-her-dragons @magic-is-something-we-create @47crayons @idk-bout-tonight

oots taglist (lmk to be added/removed) @willowiswriting @ninazeniks @magic-is-something-we-create @myhusbandsasemni @ren-c-leyn @justwriteyoudummy @47crayons @yejidoesthings @ettawritesnstudies @faithfire @a-forgotten-dusk @talesfromaurea @ashen-crest

general taglist: @magic-is-something-we-create @myhusbandsasemni @wickerring @directionoftime @47crayons @familiarvillain

gkbk taglist: (lmk to be added/removed) @magic-is-something-we-create @idk-bout-tonight @ren-c-leyn @crystallized-ink @hysteriwah @denkis-boyfriend @ashen-crest @aconfusedomni @myhusbandsasemni​ @oshaaru​ @metanoiamorii @47crayons

[mystery-star]

Accio Imagine - George Weasley Masterlist (Per January 2023)

Please do not repost my work on other sites or platforms!

Imagines

Broken up

Merry Christmas [Smut]

Nightmare

Burden

Like Father like Son

Valentine

Rivalry

Do you trust me?

To pretend

Happy Birthday

The Dream

Thievery

All good things come in Threes

Letters to you

Some Game

Mine

Little Mishap

Secret Santa

A Weasley Christmas (Part 1) (Part 2 for Fred)

Taken for granted

Tiny

Falling for you

Drunk

Alea iacta est [Prompt request]

Busted [Prompt request]

Restless [Prompt request]

Hopeless [Prompt request]

Ban [Prompt request]

Silly [Prompt request]

Bickering and Teasing [Prompt request]

Camilla

Unplanned

A special Gift [Smut]

To care

In a Nutshell

Hidden fun [Smut]

More than words [Request]

Lost of Love [Request]

Soft and Cuddly

Beastly Good [Request]

Wet-on-wet [Smut]

Harmless Flirt?

Flower-Child [Request]

One doesn’t count [Request]

Harassment [Smut]

Had I known [Request]

Forbidden Love [Request]

Double Trouble

Halt [Request]

Powder Snow

Series

The Petrified Series

Petrified (Part 1)

Guardian (Part 2)

Two-faced Woman (Part 3)

Fighter (Part 4)

Anxious (Part 5)

-

In Good and Bad Times

In good Times… (Part 1)  

…And bad Times (Part 2)

-

Twenty Years

Part 1 | Part 2

-

Pure Envy

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

-

Little big Surprise

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

-

Only Human

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

-

Ten Reasons

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 |  Part 6 | Part 7

-

A Little Secret

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

-

Sweet Dreams

Part 1 | Part 2

-

Love finds a Way

Part 1 | Part 2

-

Misunderstood

Part 1 | Part 2

-

Decisions

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 

-

My Little Brother

Part 1 | Part 2

-

Blood Purity

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

-

The Way to a Man’s Heart (Middle Ages AU)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

-

Hot Cocoa

Part 1 | Part 2

Bigger Series

How to keep a Secret

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21 | Bonus Chapter 1 | Bonus Chapter 2

-

Prince Charming (Middle Ages AU)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 (Smut) | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 |  Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21 | Part 22 | Part 23 | Part 24 | Part 25 | Part 26 | Part 27 | Part 28 | Part 29 | Part 30

-----

Return to the Masterlist Masterpost

[jackzillanyanut8008]

Owl House AU Part: 10

(A time stamp card shows up saying 30 years earlier, the scene opens with Alvaro and Camilla boarding a ship)

Alvaro: All set babe?

(Camilla looks at Eda, Lilith, Alador, Odalia, and many other characters waving goodbye)

Camilla: Si, lets go

Alvaro: Goodbye Everyone, I hope we’ll all meet again!

(As the 2 lovers board the ship Alvaro begins to narrate)

Narrator: We traveled all over the demon realm, drew maps, and even learned about different types of magic, and one day...

(Al and Camilla are in a tavern as a tall buff guy storms in, he had a large white beard and eye, he reeked so much it made Alvaro gag)

Big guy: You want something tiny?

Alvaro: Yeah, I saw a bathhouse a couple blocks from here, why don’t you make an appointment

(Camilla bumps his shoulder, giving Al a “Don’t mess with this guy” look)

Big guy: Why you little!

???: Bjorn No!

(The 3 look to see a beautiful young woman entering the bar, she had long red hair, a Scottish accent, and a green cloak that shown like emeralds, as she walked through the bar, bandits and delinquents start whistling and howling)

???: Sorry about that, Bjorn here is a stubborn as an ox

(The giant scoffs and begins to drink)

???: My name is Alea, I’m an Elf

Alvaro: Huh, I heard all elves were enslaved by Belos and his allies 

Alea: Unfortunately, yes, I’m one of a small group of people who have escaped that tyrants wrath

Alvaro: I watched as his goons torched my village, and took me from my mom and dad

(The 2 newcomers look to each other then to Alvaro)

Alvaro: It’s funny really, I can remember all the bad stuff about that place but never a single detail about my mom or dad...

Alea: I’m sure your parents would be proud of you

Alvaro: thanks 

Camilla: Anyways, lets bounce Al, I hear they got a new meat dealer here who sells dragon tails for half as much as back home 

Alvaro: Get Outta Here!!

(The 2 race out of the bar and into the street)

Bjorn: He will find out eventually Alea, even you know that

Alea: Let him enjoy this, he probably won’t have a second chance at this...

[snow-system-wol]

Built in extra night in between the events of Alea Iacta Est and those of In From the Cold, to give S'ria a moment to process what all has happened that day.

Warnings for discussion of suicide and, of course, 6.0 spoilers (specifically for quests up to Alea Iacta Est).

As much as S'ria did want the refugees to be moved to camp as soon as possible, he was deeply grateful that he could finally end this day early. It was already late at night, even colder, and with little visibility – trekking with these weak and injured individuals should wait until the sun rose again. They were at least able to leave enough ceruleum to keep the heaters running at full blast again, some food, and could begin administering preliminary medical aid immediately.

S'ria being able to just teleport immediately back to Camp Broken Glass and rest was a blessing, though it was unfortunate the aetheryte would not work to transport the people here without attunement first. He'd return in the morning, of course, to see to their safety.

It'd just been… far too long of a day since arriving at Camp Broken Glass, and he was just hoping to fall into some citizen's abandoned bed and pray that his bones hurt less in the morning. G'raha had expressed some sort of very soft-hearted guilt at the idea that those had been people's homes – S'ria could understand the sympathy, but it wasn't as though they were doing anything worse than taking shelter (and even doing some repairs.) Should these villagers return safely someday, they would find their homes intact and none the worse for someone having slept there.

S'ria's anticipation towards having a half decent bed instead of sleeping mere ilms above frozen ground was dwarfed by the relief upon an Ishgardian machinist happily informing him that heating in at least half the buildings had been restored. S'ria was not a religious man, but he wanted to thank at least some higher power for that mercy.

G'raha hovered nervously near him as he got food and began to wind down for the night, as outside began to fully empty except for the night watch, and S'ria began to wonder what additional thing may be occupying him. S'ria finally placed it as “uncertainty” and smiled at how simple and mundane of an issue that was compared to everything else today.

“That sleeping arrangement from the tents is still an option, if that's what you're dwelling on.”

G'raha startled. “Wicked white, was it that obvious? I – with the heaters working, I did not wish to assume...”

“The heating will keep me from freezing, but all things considered, I'd like to be warm.” 

G'raha finally relaxed his shoulders. “Full glad am I to donate my services as a space heater, then.”

Huddling by the fire was so cozy that S'ria almost didn't want to brave the cold journey to travel inside and wait for the room to warm up. Still, it was necessary.

The building they'd been directed to was a tiny two-room place, with a warm fire burning in the hearth – as well as two twins flopped across a couch and one Thancred occupying the floor. S'ria had more than a light enough step to sneak past, but G'raha luckily managed to avoid disturbing them as well.

The bedroom was (predictably but unfortunately) barely warmed by the fire in the other room. S'ria turned on the ceruleum heater in there immediately, huddling on the floor by it and waiting for the warmth to begin radiating. G'raha sat down next to him, weathering the short wait together.

“I am sorry. While none of it has been firsthand from your mouth, all I've heard sounds as though today has been… very unkind to you.”

S'ria made a noncommittal noise of acknowledgement and leaned into G'raha's shoulder, sitting in silence for some time longer. 

Eventually S'ria turned towards him, cupping his face in gloved hands. He tried not to let his body's shivering shake G'raha as well.

“Is it okay for me to…? I-I don't want it to go anywhere, though.”

G'raha closed his eyes in an affectionate blink. “‘Tis always okay – and it does not have to.”

S'ria relaxed and leaned to kiss him, G'raha's lips feeling just slightly warmer than his own. S'ria had always thought he ran a bit cooler than the average person, but it was nice to have proof. It was a pleasant enough way to occupy himself while he waited for the heater to fully kick on, the layers they both still wore a comfortable barrier for S'ria. A part of him worried about this, kissing G'raha somewhat less than chastely with the intent to crawl into bed together after – but he did trust G'raha.

(And besides, should that trust ever be shattered, Thancred was a light sleeper.)

S'ria pulled away and the room was finally warm. He stripped out of his boots and coat and crawled into the bed. The sheets were still cold, but that should hopefully pass quickly. He zoned out for a short while until his reverie was broken by the feel of the bed dipping under G'raha's weight. There was a very brief moment of panic at that sensation. Pulling G'raha against his chest, though, reminding his senses that none of the scents are right for whatever was scaring him – S'ria was able to get past the worst of that feeling.

S'ria was very exhausted, the fear he'd just felt was mostly abated, and the warmth of molding himself to G'raha's back was settling in… and yet, sleep felt malms away. His heartbeat just wouldn't quite settle – not pounding but never reaching calm – and he wondered if G'raha could feel it against his spine. Despite just finally getting warm, he had the twitchiest impulse to go run laps around camp before trying to lie down again. He made an effort to stay still for a while, before G'raha spoke up.

“You are…still awake. Is there aught that I can do?”

S'ria flinched as if he'd been caught. “Am I keeping you up? My mind is just a bit busy.”

“I would not be surprised, today seemed painful for you.”

S'ria chuckled humorlessly. “You'd think it'd be one of the worse things eating at me but, no – it's about Quintus… I want to feel glad that he's dead, but I don't.”

“If you feel the urge to mourn him or simply just do not rejoice in his death – there is nothing wrong with that.”

S'ria stilled and then slowly shook his head, ruffling the back of G'raha's hair with the movement. “That's…not the way I mean it. I fear I may be a much worse person than you are assuming.”

“I very highly doubt any of your thoughts will lead me to that conclusion – but you may speak, if you'd like me to confirm or deny that judgment?”

S'ria's arms tightened around G'raha's chest. He was silent in hesitation for a while, but once the words began to flow, they did so unimpeded.

“I'm not upset that Quintus committed suicide, I'm angry at him for why he did. The things Garlean soldiers do, once the dust has settled and the adrenaline and powertrip is still in their system – that is indignity and humiliation, not whatever he was experiencing.” S'ria made a conscious effort to relax instead of squeezing G'raha too hard and continued.

“And to receive the barest hint of that which he's inflicted, a far kinder truce than they've ever offered, that's too much? His damn pride couldn't take even that? He spoke of collaring me and dared to make this about dignity?” The words were spat out and S'ria could feel a brief anger ripple through G'raha's frame as S'ria mentioned the collars. It made him feel just the tiniest bit validated. “I need to live with my shame, have remained alive despite the suffering of it all, and then–then he thinks it's all well and good to die at the first hint of – !”

S'ria made an uncomfortable wheezy exhale, drastically lowering his voice before he could wake someone. “See? It's bad.”

G'raha brought his arms up to lay his hands over S'ria's, taking some time to consider his response.

“None of that makes you a bad person. It is unfair, all of it – and your thoughts alone can hardly do any harm just from thinking them either.” He gently squeezed S'ria's hands and added, quietly, “and I'm very glad that you've remained alive.”

Whatever response G'raha might have received died under the weight of that near-desperate addition. S'ria curled more closely around G'raha's back, shifting to press his face into his neck. The first hitching sob was muffled into fabric, as were the next few, but it was impossible to mistake the sound for anything else. S'ria wanted to be doing almost anything except starting to cry while cuddled up against G'raha. If he drew away, though, G'raha could look at him in the dim lighting, and that would be too much. If he stayed like this, hiding his face, maybe they could both pretend it wasn't happening.

The worst part was that it felt good despite it all. Much-needed, if nothing else. The bitterness and anger quickly burned off of him for at least a time. Nearly the same moment the tears finally tapered off, S'ria fell into a restful and dreamless sleep.