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One of them is fake

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you know, that cutscene

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what urianger was really doing on the moon

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“Come back to us!”

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so. pandaemonium huh

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When you accidentally get promoted to head of state

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Self indulgent fanfiction with my avatar I’d intended to enter into a FFXIV writing challenge but took too long to finish 2, electric boogaloo

     Alphinaud had, for some godsforsaken reason, wanted to prove that he did in fact have enough upper body strength to move his own luggage out of the boat they'd shared to the island without assistance. The boy wrenched his back almost immediately, crumbling faster than an Ascian-sabotaged civilization. His camping companions - the former Azure Dragoon and the now almost repulsively famous Warrior of Light - then betrayed their suffering invalid friend and ditched him to meddle in all manner of their host's farming work that the boy was too distracted by his wrenched back to point out didn't make for much of a "vacation"; they were too accustomed to nonstop crisis to relax. Meteor’s vieran brother-in-arms Felix quickly gave up trying to stop them, instead electing simply to hang back and hand out snacks as needed. For the compromised elezen child he brewed a tea tonic meant to help with muscle pain. Alphinaud took a few sips of it and flopped down under the cover of his host's forest hut for a nap that lasted several hours - one never knew how one would react to vieran herbal remedies.

     A cacophony of frustrated bleating finally snapped him awake. The tea now sat cold and bitter, forgotten for too long on the top step of his host's beach side work shop, and reheated periodically by well intended mammets until the contents had steeped into the spitting image of recently stirred swamp water. Noticing how much the sun had moved during his medicine induced coma, Alphinaud had little doubt that drinking it at its current potency would likely end with him promptly rejoined to the lifestream, and he got up - noting with relief how much more easily his back moved - to find a discreet place to dump it. A loud whoop to his right sent him scurrying back up the steps of the hut. He watched Meteor zip past flanked by Felix's three sons, all with a protesting sheep under each arm, thundering up the hill towards the animal pen and Felix following slowly behind them, calling them hooligans. Mystified, he followed the viera patriarch up the dirt road to see Estinien with shears in one hand and mired in a fussy clump of recently contained sheep, to which the "hooligans" quickly added their recovered runaways before scooping up some recently filled bags of wool and jetting off back down the hill towards the mammet workshop.

I have to still be asleep, he thought.

"Close your mouth before something builds a nest in it, child. How fare you?"

He turned to see Felix settling in to a hastily assembled work station at the edge of the field, packing all the shorn wool into fresh sacks he had brought up with him from the workshop. He beckoned him over.

"I forget how potent those herbs can be, I apologize. But a growing boy needs the rest, I suppose."

Alphinaud nodded absently, his eyes locked on Estinien's work. The dragoon nudged his head slightly in the boy's direction in acknowledgement of his presence without pausing, gaze narrowing pensively. Go on, I dare you, it said - make a smart comment. Not deeming further potential injury worth the temporary satisfaction of teasing his cantankerous friend, Alphinaud simply smiled and waved in return. He’d thought Meteor had been joking when he mentioned the dragoon’s shepherding experience.

"You have quite the little enterprise here. Where, may I ask, did they all come from, and where is all this going?" He motioned around at the milling beasts and ever growing stack of wool sheets.

"The sheep escaped a shipwreck, as I understand it, and have been living here with no one to care for them for some time - I got them along with the island, as no one had come to claim them. They are not wild, and must be shorn lest the wool grow out of control. It was -" he hauled another hefty sheet of wool up from the ground where Estinien had lobbed it over his shoulder, "far past that point, as you can see. They were struggling to even move. The mammets will wash what is here. That Fortamps boy seemed convinced Francel would be, ah... 'drooling over the prospect' of purchasing some."

"That stands to reason. Anything to keep warm in Ishgard would be a godssend. Or even Garlemald..." Both fell silent for a beat at mention of Eorzea's former national nemesis, still slowly clawing it's way back from crisis. Vacation, we are on vacation, leave it alone - Alphinaud shook himself and forced a smile.

"And what has our Emmanelain been up to lately?"

"Costa del Sol. Said he was 'networking' for Francel. Might even have actually been doing so with Lord Charlemend along. Just in time for Moonfire Fair."

Count Charlemend Durendaire was as heartwarmingly fervent in his desire to revitalize his home kingdom as he was fervently filled to disciplined bursting with traditional Ishgardian distaste for any flavor of debauchery. Imagining that honorable personage and his craggy, purse-lipped frown surrounded by half-naked grog gorged beach-goers clambering all over (and mostly falling off of) the traditional Moonfire obstacle course - oh, what would Halone think? To say nothing of what Felix and Meteor had been wearing when they went. Which was to say, not very much, and what was there had been very form-fitting, and likely to send Charlemend into an apoplectic fit were he to espy two heroes of the Dragonsong War wandering around in such.

"Oh my, I'm sure the good Count found that quite stimulating. I can't imagine he approved of seeing you two there in your skivvies."

"His reaction surprised me a bit, in fact."

"Oh?"

"Yes, he said I was a... I think I've heard young folk call it being a 'snack'" The Viera mumbled, still mostly focused on the wool.

Alphinaud's eyebrows flitted up into the bushy cover of his bangs like a pair of startled birds. "Wh-come again?" That couldn't be right - maybe he'd misunderstood some slang?

"Well, he, ah... compared me to food, I think. Called me something, you know - those little fried dumpling things. A... coquette?"

Alphinaud spun his gaze over the fence at a wheezy teakettle sound from the sheep pen. Estinien's relentless shearing had pulled to an abrupt halt, his shoulders bobbing slightly, and the boy realized that quietly piercing noise was coming out of him. The half shaved sheep he'd been working on tried taking advantage of the distraction to wriggle away but its lanky captor dragged it back and straddled it, bringing his face into the pair's view while he tried to get the animal back under control. He'd pursed his lips firmly against whatever fit had overtaken him, his ear-tips bright red with the effort.

"Aye, Ishgard's certainly fried a fair share of 'coquettes' in its time," He snorted out. Then, slightly under his breath, "Or tossed them down the Witchdrop."

"Estinien!"

"That's a waste of food," Felix rumbled disapprovingly.

This time the sheep got away.

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wait hold on

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Major artblock, have baby kavat instead

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Happy FFXIV's 9th anniversary! ✨

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Yellow headed day gecko

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spirit hunter 3 script leaked, this is the whole game. old man jokes.

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And Noa, having not quite as much fun for completely different reasons