I need someone to like. Ramble about Dycedarg beoulve at me while I listen fr fr

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I need someone to like. Ramble about Dycedarg beoulve at me while I listen fr fr
it’s a beautiful day to ominously wingman for your unwilling vessel
Very endeared by how Noelle shares food items with Kris... even if this particular one hasn't happened yet in game
my name is Susie Deltarune and my power is being oblivious as fuck
reblog to microwave them faster
so sneepy
a past that never leaves
replaying final fantasy tactics: war of the lions to confirm my hypothesis that ramza beoulve is tma and that estrogen would have saved her
i really love fft's sort of 'booky' vibes. it makes it a perfect game to play before bed
fft does this thing where if you do opt to read the rumors, ot showers you in lore and names and different noble families connected to eachother. and personally i like this particular way of handling things because while yes, this lore is interesting and gives some more background on the events of the game, the main story itself can instead be much more focused on the individual struggles of ramza and delita. basically there's a lot of parts here, but you're never forced to engage with all of it to understand the main themes
"Your brother left again last night," Mustadio tells Ramza, shaking him awake. "It concerned me."
"He does that," Ramza mumbles, pushing away Mustadio's hand. "It is too early to consider such matters. Let me rest."
"It does not bother you?" Mustadio asks, not at all perturbed by being rejected for physical contact. Ramza in the morning is a whole different beast, best left alone. As a mercenary, he decides his own schedule, and so a late morning doesn't hurt him or his work.
"D'es it bother you when the cat goes out to hunt?" Ramza asks, already halfway back into his dream. "Alma may do whatever he pleases. He's of age, and Altima will protect him if it comes down to it. For the love of all unholy, let me rest, 'Stadio."
Mustadio sighs, but leaves it. If Ramza is not worried, then there's no reason for him to be concerned. He leaves their small room, the room they've shared ever since leaving Ivalice, and heads down the steep wooden stairs to the room that Ramza has dubbed 'the hall', despite it being neither grand in size nor opulently decorated. It is comfortable, warm, and undoubtedly theirs, built to accommodate the two of them, Alma, and Alma's cat Teetee.
The door is open.
Mustadio immediately reaches for the pistol at his side (ever since Ramza was declared a heretic he's carried one, immediately strapped to himself the moment he wakes, and resting by his bed at night). There is nothing obviously wrong, and so he latches the door shut, only surveying the room thoroughly once he has the safety of the latched door behind him.
There's a previously-not-there heap in what they've dubbed Alma's nest, a bundle of blankets and pillows close to the hearth where Alma has taken to spend most of his nights as opposed to his own room upstairs.
He steps closer, gun still at the ready and safety off. The heap has a face, and a familiar one at that, and with a relieved sigh Mustadio flicks the safety back on and stows the gun into its holster.
It's Alma, asleep, or perhaps unconscious, but clearly Alma. There is blood smeared around his mouth again, which suggests that the odd spirit that's stuck around Alma since their fight against Altima has once again possessed his lover's brother's body.
"Oh, Alma," Mustadio says, crouching down and surveying him. Some of the blood still appears to be fresh. "One of these days, my concern for you will lead to my early demise."
please main tag this
uuuuuuuu cute.......... i love them.... i love your them......... your writing is spectacular as always i'm so so so happy I love love love this so much <33
screw this guy in particular . grand cross to the face
Well, chickens never did anything wrong
キミが傷つくのを見たくなかった
no way they added a dead brother to Agrias' backstory with this remake... This is so Matsuno-esque
wound dressings and bandages are lingerie for the enlightened pervert