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coldshrugs · 10 months

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see you in the morning

pairing: io laithe / estinien varlineau word count: 2k note: endwalker spoilers. io is not handling things well :') you'll never guess who goes to comfort her :o)

Old Sharlayan holds its breath.

Most nights, the chilly island city continues its quiet bustling straight through to morning. Scholars drift from early-evening lectures to late-night research clubs or public laboratories, babbling excitedly about the latest research, innovation, or gossip. Those with less rigid schedules wander to the nearest patch of grass or unused table at the Last Stand with a pile of books in tow. Structured or lax, their perpetual search for knowledge is the very heartbeat of the city. But tonight, the pulse has all but stopped.

The lack of bubbling chatter and foot traffic casts an eerie pall over the city. It reaches all the way down to Scholars’ Harbour, where Io sits alone, on one of the long stone piers reaching out into the sea.

Thousands of people huddle in their homes with friends and loved ones as they wait for daylight, and for the Ragnarok’s first–and only–flight.

The weight of their expectation is suffocating.

Waves murmur against the stone below, the only sound save the few foreign sailors on the next pier over, bound to their work regardless of the state of the world. Neither is loud enough to distract her racing mind.

Io pulls her knees to her chest, cursing the inability to become as small as she feels. Every soul on this star, whether they know it or not, is now her responsibility, an obligation that echoes back to a time beyond time. And she chose it. Before she even knew it was her burden to carry, she chose it. She chooses it, because who else would? Who else could bear it? Is it not enough that her loved ones must sacrifice so much due to proximity and circumstance? It has to be her, for she would not wish this on anyone else.

If only she could curl into herself completely. Tightly enough to blink out of existence, like a dark singularity.

She’d take everything else with her.

There’s no resolution in that line of thinking.

Somewhere out there, in the expanse, is the replication of a little girl with a very human soul–perhaps not fractured, as the souls of those on the Source and its shards, but something that was never allowed to be whole. Why wouldn’t annihilation be Meteion’s answer to dead world after dead world? It must seem like kindness to a being who has never experienced adversity.

Tears, injury, death: Io has suffered through–and dealt–her fair share of them all. What pain has Meteion seen that Io has not lived?

Her hands ball into fists, nails digging into her palms. She feels manic, unable to rein in the oscillation between anger, guilt, and fear. There is the urge to scream, or cry, or drop into the frigid water below and swim and swim and swim.

But a figure moves at the edge of her vision, walking briskly in her direction.

Now another feeling begs to be acknowledged. Relief? Endearment? A mixture of both at being found, and by him, perhaps.

Still, against her threadbare senses, this feels like an ambush.

Estinien says nothing as he approaches. His steps slow as if trying not to scare a wounded animal. He offers an awkward smile. Io tries to mirror it, hoping he sees a shred of warmth in the tight purse of her lips.

He is handsome in this light, in his half-laced boots and untucked shirt billowing in the chilly coastal wind. The world is ending, and she can’t help noticing his beauty. It’s ludicrous.

“Who sent you?”

His short huff resembles a laugh. “I need a motive to check on you?” When she doesn’t answer, he sighs. “Y’shtola saw you down here from the Annex. She and Thancred thought to come, but I asked them to stay. Everyone’s turning in for the night. I thought you might appreciate the less intrusive option.”

“By all means, intrude. Once the solitude is broken, it hardly matters by whom.”

His brow knits as he studies the carved stones that make up the pier. He turns, shifting his weight. She can feel him wondering if this was unwise.

“I’m sorry, that was unkind. I’m just… overwhelmed–” Io takes a deep breath, embarrassed by the confession before she makes it– “and afraid. Please don’t go.”

Estinien sways in her periphery, stepping closer before squatting beside her. He looks out into the quiet marina, carefully avoiding her half-slumped form. False privacy, but she’ll take the small mercy.

“You needed to get away. I can understand that.”

“I couldn’t breathe in there. Everyone is watching me. They look at me like I’m dying, or like I’m killing them myself.”

“For every person placing blame at your feet, ten others believe in this asinine plan. As I do.”

“You think we can do it? Truly?” she asks, looking up into the great expanse. The stars blink against the endless blue, and for once, the sight makes her feel cold instead of curious. “What if I–”

“You have to, Io.” His tone invites no debate, but there is a melancholy that matches her own. “You will figure it out no matter the cost, because you must.”

Io nods. Her eyes sting. She closes them to keep the tears at bay as long as possible. He is right, of course. Somewhere deep in her soul, the flame of her faith–in herself, in her friends, and in those who paved this way for her–burns as brightly as ever. She has to save them.

“But you will not be alone. We are with you, of course. We’ll give our all to see it through, if that’s what it takes.”

“Gambling your lives for a promise I made, for my mistakes… I can’t bear to think about losing them.” She risks a glance in Estinien’s direction, but his eyes never leave the gently rolling sea. “Or losing you.”

The barest of smiles, one of the little ones he tries to hide with a bowed head. He rubs the back of his neck, sending a cascade of loose hair over his shoulder.

Her chest clenches.

The well of affection she holds for him is muddy these days; for years, they’ve operated with platonic, amiable ease, flitting in and out of each other’s lives but always reuniting as the closest of friends. But since her time in the First, they have been nearly inseparable.

Estinien is her family, but unlike what she feels for Thancred, Urianger, or G’raha, he is not her brother. He evokes a distinct tenderness, gives life to a long-dormant, selfish hope within her heart, and he does it without trying.

“If we don’t try, all is lost.” He falls against the stone with a quiet groan and nudges her with an elbow. “This pessimism doesn’t become you. I have seen you stand against tremendous odds time and time again. I’ve heard tales of more things than I’ve seen. You may not always get it right, I may not always agree, but you do the impossible. What makes this any different?”

Io reflects on the past year (gods, has it been that long?). The burning skies, the horrible transformations, and the aether-depleted souls who will never see another lifetime on this beautiful star, all because she fell for a madman’s power play. She condemned them to this fate.

She reaches further into her memory, to the unsure adventurer stepping foot into the Waking Sands, and her induction into the inner circle of these secretive upstarts she’s grown to call family. She’s been nothing more than a curse upon them. Thancred’s aether, Y’shtola’s sight, Urianger’s conscience, Minfilia’s life. What might they have avoided without her?

Haurchefant would be alive if she had stayed out of his life.

Since the day she left Dalmasca, death and destruction have been her shadow. As ruinous and loyal as Dalamud, a black dog she pretends she can abandon if only it would forget her scent.

She watches Estinien again, silver in the moonlight. His hands are clasped, hanging between long legs that dangle close to the water below. Like the water, he looks relaxed on the surface. Like the water, there is an undercurrent only the experienced can see.

His thumb worries a circle into the palm of his other hand. His shoulders are tense, hidden by his slightly curved posture. If anyone could understand why this is different, it’s him. For all his courage, he has seen the black dog too.

“It’s different,” Io swallows, “because it’s everything.”

Estinien looks back. His stare is hard. “And so are you.”

Once more, he leaves no room for debate. He speaks as if stating the obvious, citing a fact she should already know.

Io blinks, so awestruck by his candor, she has to look away. Her tumultuous thoughts now spin in his direction, unable to focus on more than this sudden vulnerability. What does it mean that sharing these doubts with him is the most comfortable she’s felt in days? What does it mean that she aches to reach for his hand?

His eyes dart over her face, never lingering on one feature too long. There is something overly controlled about it. Lately, she has employed the same tactic when trying not to stare at his lips…

If she leaned over and kissed him, would he push her away? Could they still be friends?

A selfish hope indeed. But a small thing in her mind whispers, “maybe after…”

If there is an “after” to be had.

She releases her bundled limbs and stands, stretching to relieve the long-ignored ache in her back.

“Come on,” she beckons. “We should at least try to rest before we travel to the edge of space and time.”

Io’s tension deflates as they walk to the annex, pressed under the weight of her exhaustion. They go in comfortable silence, half an arm’s length apart. There is something between them she longs to touch, but doesn’t dare. She has the moonlight in his hair, his half-smile, and his steadfast faith in her. That is enough.

That is more than enough.

The Baldesion Annex is dark, like the rest of the city. The lobby is empty. Not an Annex attendant, not a Scion. Estinien does not share her surprise. How persuasive must he have been to ensure no one disturbed her return? Io watches him move across the room with deliberate steps. He holds open the door that leads to the nap rooms and gestures with his head for her to go ahead of him. The little smile is back.

She returns it, and this time it’s genuine.

They pass Estinien’s door. Io’s room is around the corner and down the next corridor, and he makes the full journey.

They pause at her door.

“Thank you for keeping my head on straight.”

“Someone must. You would not hesitate to do the same for me.” He shrugs. And then his hand is on her upper arm, giving a reassuring squeeze. He pulls her into his space.

Her arms thread under his, hands pressing into his back. She rests her cheek on his shoulder, breathes him in. The sharp edge of her anxiety sloughs away, lost in the steady pressure of his arms around her.

They have never hugged like this. They have never been this close.

Io closes her eyes, squeezes him more tightly, and smiles when she can feel his erratic heartbeat through the firm press of their chests. In this moment, with his hands resting at her neck and waist, with his chin against her neck, skin to skin, she cannot imagine his denial. Perhaps it isn't a stretch to assume he feels this too.

The corridor lights grow dim around them. Io pays them no mind, content to stand in the dark until morning, held by the man she yearns for, the man she never thought she would.

But she yawns, and he steps away, hands on her shoulders. Another squeeze. Another scan of her face before his grey eyes focus on hers, like he's making a final decision.

“Tomorrow,” Estinien says. The single word is a promise. Whatever happens, whatever they find, he will make sure Io gets it done.

“Tomorrow.” She nods, slipping into the room as the memory of his touch crystallizes in her mind. Her limbs are heavy as she climbs into the too-small bed, but the weight has lifted.

She can breathe.

#azia writes #io laithe #io/estinien #this had me in a chokehold #i could not stop thinking about them having a stress hug there at the end of endwalker #a moment where things *could've* started but didn't #because they're both scared of what's to come and scared of the other not fully reciprocating #then after... io is injured and getting over everything that happened in UT. it's not the time. the moment is gone #they are so patient!!! they could've kissed right here but they want to be sure! they mean too much to each other to get it wrong!#while estinien has been 100% in it since in from the cold i think this is the moment he's like 'okay it's not just me and i'm sure of that'#like they're not flirting they're not joking. that's his girl!! and he just needs to be there for her #io is still in her 'lmao i'm unlovable and this is probably in my head' phase #maybe i'll tackle that next lmao #i'm sorry i can't write a fic and leave it without a director's commentary in the tags dslafkjsald #anyway go listen to Lost by dermot kennedy bc that's the vibe here

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paris-geller-was-straightwashed · 4 months

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I am about to say something that will probably put a giant fucking target above my head, but against all good reason - I fucking hate this whole 'gaylor' trend.

let's get the facts out right now: 1. I am a non-binary dyke, in case anyone wants to play the queerphobia card 2. I've been a fan of taylor since fearless first came out when I was 11 (before some of you had probably even reached double digits) and 3. yes, this is inspired by the recent ny times article.

honestly I'm usually too much of an old man to be interested in a lot of celebrity news, even for artists I like, so I generally stay clear, but this came through my morning news feed via, bizarrely, ctv (fucking ctv thought this was NEWSWORTHY enough to put on their site which is bonkers, and if you're not canadian, ctv is a nationwide news broadcaster). and it made me livid - because this has now far beyond stretched the line of acceptable.

fucking ny times. this would be perfectly expected for rags like daily soap dish or enquirer or some other bullshit circus, where they spend all their damn days crafting celebrity stories of who's secretly pregnant and who's getting an underground divorce. ny times, in case they fucking forgot, do still have some sort of legitimacy to their name, but I guess they decided they'd run out of enough stories to now outsource to conspiracy theory level fans who's parasocial relationships with their favourite celebrity reaches deity levels. dear ny times, there is actual news still happening in the world in case you're out of ideas.

putting aside this bizarre so called attempt at 'journalism', onto the second point - which is that this. is. gross!! I've had issues with the whole 'gaylor' thing since the start. we, as a fanbase, have seen taylor ripped apart and broken down by this intrusive and harmful celeb culture that analyzes her every move for who she might be seeing, who's she interested in, which male friend could be a potential partner, etc etc, over and over, and how it's been both damaging to her and her love life as she's said. fans have even criticized the media for it and said to leave taylor alone! but now, all of a sudden, just bc you're a fan or bc you're queer or both, it's okay??? it fucking boggles my mind when so-called 'gaylor' fans gush about her and her work, always at her defense and say they care about her, and then do this 180 where they partake in a super invasive thing at her expense and don't even blink an eye??? making your own guesses by yourself is one thing, but creating a whole plot around the fact of taylor secretly being gay and pushing her to come out is a whole other ballroom of nuts.

let's get this out onto the table - she hates this. she doesn't like that you guys do this. she's already stated so and you all keep doing it. just because you're replacing the male character with a female one doesn't mean shit when you're doing the same harmful activity, just switching pronouns. you're not subverting anything, in case any of you need to be told. as a queer fan, this is embarrassing. it is such a gross over-stepping of someone's private life, and now that the goddamn ny times have posted it about it, makes the behavior even more legitimized!! while nothing excuses homophobia, if taylor eventually starts distancing herself from anything and all things queer and starts pushing back, I don't want to see any fucking one of you crying bc it'd be your own damn fault.

thirdly, even if, even if, taylor was gay - it's none of our fucking business!!! it's like all you up and completely blanked out what it was like to be closeted. if you're staying closeted, it's because you're not ready to come out!!! you don't want to or it's not a good time for you or whatever there doesn't need to be any reason for why someone doesn't want to say they're gay!!! it's hard enough trying to make that choice, and then you have the rest of the whole world posting ''''articles'''' about your sexuality, putting a million pairs of eyes on you - fuck, that'd send me back ten more layers into the closet if it happened to me! it's super rude not only to discuss someone's sexuality like it's the weather over brunch, but even worse to demand they say something about it! this is queer etiquette 101 people - you don't run around gossiping about someone's sexuality bc whatever that person decides they doesn't need your fucking input!!

basically if I could spray you all with a spray bottle I fucking would right now - nobody needs your input on their sexuality, celebrity or non! all this does is perpetrate harmful celebrity gossip that just hurts the artist you claim to love so much. taylor is a real person with a real life, she's not a storybook character to speculate over! please, I am begging you, stop this! go outside! touch grass!!

and at the risking of being meme-ified, leave taylor alone!

#taylor swift #ny times #I have had it up to HERE if you can't tell #I swear to god gaylors are the most off-the-walls people I've ever met #literally I saw someone post a pic of taylor at her birthday with a female friend holding the cake up for her #and with 100% earnestness saying 'the way she's holding this for her is so relationship-coded???' BRO IT'S A BIRTHDAY PARTY #friend: *holds up cake for taylor for her birthday*#gaylors: is this Lesbian??????#I'm about to loose my mind #now they're crying about taylor's team slamming the article WHICH THEY HAVE THE RIGHT TO #you all wanna play the homophobia card but I'm pretty sure it's less about the gay thing #and more about it being HORRIBLY INVASIVE AND WEIRD #the only thing I'll agree on is that them saying this doesn't happen to male artists was weird #it does in fact happen I'm pretty sure it's been happening to harry styles for a while now #and that's just as weird as long as we're here leave harry alone too #this has been a PSA

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