bonyfish
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He seems in his element here, as much as he does on the battlefield. His steps are steady and sure, at home in his body. Perhaps in deference to the weather, he has exchanged the layered leather and canvas G’raha usually sees him in for a loose cotton shirt and very short denim shorts. G’raha makes a valiant effort not to stare at Zhia’a’s legs, though ostensibly it would be appropriate for him to do so.
Alone on an otherwise (mostly) deserted island, G'raha and Zhia'a have time to think about their future for perhaps the first time.
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He doubts he will ever forget what he's seen this day. Though he is young, he's no stranger to battle, to strife, to grief. Few who lived through the Calamity can claim to have been untouched by the last-- but grief, to him, has looked like his father's clenched fist and set jaw after Cartenau, like Alisaie's determination to lay their grandfather's spirit to rest with her expeditions into Dalamud's fallen fragments. Clementain's grief had been something else.
Alphinaud reassesses the Warrior of Light, in light of their experiences storming the Vault.
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Thancred had not been entirely certain Zhia’a could speak aloud, and yet it would seem he is not only quite capable of doing so, but rather voluble under the right circumstances.
Very brief snippet, exploring the relationship between my WoL Zhia'a Bajhiri and his childhood friend/occasional co-WoL Clementain Charmant. From Thancred's POV; set during early ARR.
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At the edge of the universe, the Warrior of Light clings to life by a thread. Fortunately, he has a friend who's handy with a needle. (This is a metaphor.)
A little character study/exploration of the mechanics of healing magic, featuring my WoL Zhia'a Bajhiri and his childhood friend/occasional co-WoL Clementain Charmant.
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"Keep your secrets, Exarch." The Warrior's hushed voice cracks like G'raha has never heard, longing bringing him to break when not even the consuming light could. "Tell me why you smell like home."
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(Pre-Kholusia conversation / Mt. Gulg. Technically written as a prequel part of the series, but can be read separately/standalone.)
Series
- Part 3 of Adagio
Bookmarked by bonyfish
01 Nov 2025
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"Shh. Five more minutes."
Bookmarked by bonyfish
05 Aug 2025
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A Disclaimer From Your Friendly Neighborhood Oracle:
The following is a transcript of Patrol Communications Audio written by state of the art transcription technology, IRIS (Interpretation of Recorded Intelligence Software). IRIS was created to provide easily searchable records, automatically, and eliminate the need to transcribe each patrol audio log manually. That being said, IRIS is still experimental, and may not always be entirely accurate.
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(01:25) Red Hood: (Mild static) (Out of breath, slurred) You motherfuckers. Put some fuckin-Batman: (Shaking) Red Hood-
Red Hood: Shut up. Put some fucking respect. On my name. Start fucking copying me. I just got thrown fucking. Um. 40 feet. Into a fucking uh. What's it. Ditch. I'm still fucking conscious.
Batman: Red Hood, do not move, we're en route-
Red Hood: What'll I win if I stand up.
Batman: (Loud) Do not stand up.
Series
- Part 1 of IRIS Logs
- Language:
- English
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- 7,825
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- 1/1
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Bookmarked by bonyfish
06 Jul 2025
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Dex sat up fully, crossing his feet at the ankles and giving him a wry look. “You wanna come pretend to be my boyfriend, Nurse?”
There were a lot of reasons Nursey was glad he wasn’t white. Subtle blushing ranked really high up there. “I, uh,” he started.
Dex shook his head at him. “It’s okay, I was kidding. I appreciate the suggestion but I know you weren’t offering—“
“I would,” Nursey heard himself saying. Which he’d always thought was a dumb literary convention, but here he was, words coming out of his mouth without his useless fucking brain’s influence at all. “If you actually want me to, I would.”
Series
- Part 3 of Best Laid Plans
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 23,050
- Chapters:
- 2/2
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- 1
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- 311
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Bookmarked by bonyfish
11 Jun 2025
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“I don’t know how to explain us to Sophie, is all,” Eliot says, looking down into his bowl of ice cream, smooshing his spoon around the edges until it’s more cream than ice.
Parker watches him, working through her mental Eliot-body-language-flowchart.
Bookmarked by bonyfish
15 May 2025