but i swear you were there

i started ff12

Reblog if you think asexuality is a legitimate sexuality.

I'm trying to prove something.

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post-game vaan who is ENTHUSIASTICALLY IN DENIAL THAT BALTHIER AND FRAN ARE DEAD, telling everyone “just watching the strahl til they’re home!”; he can’t fly it for fun or “balthier will be so pissed at me when he’s back”, keeping himself EXTREMELY BUSY, all so that he doesn’t have time to notice it: the dust collecting in the cockpit, the stagnancy of the private hangar where the strahl sits, anchored it’s been 8 months since the bahamut fell. nono asks him, “will you take the strahl out, kupo? she’s in need of a captain.”

“she has a captain,” vaan says as if it’s obvious, but he looks distantly at nothing, the smile on his face fragile and staged. stale. his hands run against the leather of the captain’s seat, replaying the night balthier pressed him into it and whispered his name.

nono shifts, uncomfortable. the silence between them is long. vaan’s voice is small when he finally says, in defeat, “so you believe it, too. like everyone else. i hoped you’d think better of them than that, nono.”

it’s dark in the hangar. he sees nono’s reflection behind him in the strahl’s windglass. the tiny moogle stands at the cockpit’s door and his pompom sways as he sighs. “the captain told me if anything were to ever happen to him–”

vaan’s hand slams on the console. “nothing happened to him.” nono’s ears press back against his head. he rubs the space between his beady eyes, a strangely hume gesture. “master balthier had me promise to tell you the strahl …is yours, kupo.”

“that isn’t true,” vaan says, staring at the compass sealed into the console. it has pointed Southbound ever since he landed it eight months ago. “it’s not true. it…i don’t want it.” his eyes are glassy when he turns to face the loyal mechanic. “the strahl isn’t mine. it’s his. and i’m not giving up on him.”

nono clearly looks at a loss. “my crew and i are in need of work, kupo. simply - if you will not fly the strahl, we will need to find another ship…” vaan feels nauseous and gutted, his world spinning on its axis. suddenly, he feels dizzy. his mouth his dry. the air feels stale.

 "can …can i talk with you about this later, nono? the strahl… wouldn’t be the same without you.“ 

nono hums solemenly . “it does feel different here, kupopo." 

"what do i do?” vaan finally asks, and he can’t keep his voice from cracking anymore, a whisper across glass, an orphan at the helm of a great ship, the entirety of ivalice beneath the potential of his equally great wings, but he won’t spread them without balthier. 

“fly her, kupo” nono urges, his pompom swaying. “like all pirates, your answers will come to you in the sky. when you have decided, we will be here.”

only when nono leaves the strahl and exits the hangar does vaan move. he has her console memorized, the distant echo of balthier’s gentle instruction guiding his hands across the controls. his hand is shaking when he picks up the comm device. the last time he did, he donned larsa’s voice, but he’s sitting on the throne now, and vaan feels like he’s suffocating in a casket of an airship.

“this is Strahl to Rabanastre Aerodrome. Hangar 10. Permission to take off on your mark. Westbound.” his voice carries a slight tremble to it. he’s certain he’s missed a step. done something wrong. he should’ve asked penelo to come with him. he should’ve planned this better. he–

“Rabanastre to Strahl. Good evening. You’re set to take off.” vaan stops thinking when the glossair rings hum to life. he grips the controls like a lifeline. it has been so long. the last time he took Her to the air was when he left behind the very man he is now dead-set on finding.

launched into the night sky like a comet, vaan tears through the stars. he doesn’t know where he’s going, but he’s been everywhere at this point at least once. balthier can’t hide forever. 

not from vaan, at least.

— The Asexual Manifesto, Lisa Orlando and Barbara Getz, 1972

Note the date, people:

That’s 1972

29 years before AVEN was started online,

and 47 years before the present.

And that’s only the date that Manifesto was written, so asexuals as members of a community must have existed at least some time before that.

So, no: we are not just Tumblr trenders. Get out of here with that.

supporting my asexual friends and foes by rebbloging this

It’s 50 years this month since the first version of the Asexual Manifesto was written. Aces have been writing about our experiences under this name for at least half a century. We are not an internet fad.

The Empire will know remorse.

The past that haunts: Penelo’s case

Those bright eyes, reflecting her peaceful days with her family.

Although always cheerful, Penelo too, was a victim of the war two years ago. Her brothers were killed in Nalbina. Her parents, who were trying to follow in their sons’ footsteps by supplying goods to the Dalmascan army, were killed in a skirmish. Penelo however, was not consumed by hatred nor did she feel ashamed of her situation as a war orphan. 

 Penelo knows that as long as she remembers their teachings, her family will live on in her. That is why she never stood still. For Penelo the past is not a shackle, but a force that pushes her toward the future.

FINAL FANTASY III + Concept art

someday the dream will end

taking a break from my usual brushes with Balthier and his totally-not-apprentice

extra:

anonymous request: