#but it plays a bit like fire emblem this time since there's no collective energy this time

[mesquitecandle]

Horny, tanky dragon on map! Its name is the Dreadnaught.

I love them already!

[demethinkstoomuch]

Learning To Read, Pt 6: F is for Faerghus

Chapters: 6/26 (7/26 on AO3) Fandom: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses, Fire Emblem Series Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Dedue Molinaro Characters: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, Dedue Molinaro, Gustave Dominic, Original Characters, Rufus Blaiddyd Additional Tags: Pre-Canon, Canon Compliant, Grief, Trauma, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Angst, Fluff, Tragedy of Duscur, Racism, Developing Feelings, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Blue Lions Route, Blue-Lions Typical Mental Illness

Summary:

A series of 26 alphabetically-titled vignettes examining the period where, in the wake of The Tragedy of Duscur, Dimitri taught Dedue to read: a time in which they learned about each other, and the rules of their relationship, perhaps more than about books.

Read on AO3!

A is For Ambiguity

B is for Book

C is for Commendation

D is for Dining

F is for Faerghus

The woman who called herself Cornelia Arnim considered this whole affair to be something of a fiasco, even if the potential for instability from the regency council was immense . But the council was giving her a headache. It was just a cold room full of sycophantic pigs snorting the air at the smell of fresh slop. They weren’t terribly interesting as puppets or tools, the newly-minted regent and his collection of cronies. They couldn’t even recognize that they were pigs, and wasn’t that just sad? None of them were grand noblemen; the room didn’t have a Fraldarius or a Gautier, or even just an equal in terms of clout. Also, at least one of them — one of the regent’s drinking buddies (which described about 2/3rds of the room), a minor noble who’d run in Rufus’ circle since his own academy days — seemed unaware of the fact that she was not there for his personal amusement.

But she smiled sweetly at him from across the table, and tried to think of how best to use him. Cornelia Arnim’s body had its advantages as a lure, at least, even if the fish weren’t the ones she was hoping for. If she needed to get anyone that way, it’d be the man himself. She’d been planning that the Agarthans would have owned Faerghus by now, using the dear ickle prince’s secret stepmother, wise and noble, stepping into the limelight for the first time. Obviously not the real thing, she was much too whiny and sentimental, depressing and depressed — and this was Cornelia’s opinion as the woman who had had to lure in Patricia. It had been stunningly easy, which had made the plan seem viable. Patricia had wanted so terribly to see her little girl again; she’d offered that wish for Cornelia to use however she liked. They’d spoken with other nobles, ones who were so wildly ambitious that they dreamt of freezing time so their precious kingdom would always be theirs. Ones so hungry they wanted to devour the land. They’d promised Patrcia she’d get what she really wanted, if she was only willing to take a little risk.

The plan had been, obviously, that Patricia would never see her little girl again. Or anyone else, for that matter. The attack from the nobles’ henchmen went off without a hitch. They’d even kept the prince alive, if only just, which would have made things easier. (Now, she wasn’t sure if it was something she wanted. He might have to be neutralized somehow, was the thing.) But after they’d walked Patricia away from the carnage and killed her in secret, that was where things went wrong. Because those moronic soldiers showed up, some detached battalion catching up a little too late. Their absurd vengeance culture rearing its head like a bunch of sharks smelling blood in the water. That pathetic Gustave had arrived too early. They hadn’t had time to get their Patricia ready for her miraculous survival, and so, Patricia simply had not survived in any form. All they had to show for it was the slaughter of an entire town and a sizable power vacuum currently being stuffed with hot air. Which wasn’t bad, necessarily, there was some quality chaos and a lot of raw material, but it was second place. But there were advantages.

Such as the scene playing out before her right now — once you tossed out the more worthless parts, like 90% of the animals littering this room. One of the more studious members of the council — it paid for anyone important to have at his command some little man with nervous energy, bookish disposition, and the patience for paperwork, and Rufus for the time being had this one — was explaining a situation. The son of a minor nobleman had been, according to contacts with official church messengers sent to observe and aid while the kingdom was in this transitional stage, found to be involved as a conspirator in the Tragedy. This was, and about half the room knew it, not remotely true.

“Your Highness,” asked the obligatory bookish man to the regent, “What would you like to do concerning Lord Lonato’s son?”

“...They say he was involved in the king, my brother’s, murder, do they?” asked Rufus, lifting his head from his hand, and sitting back upright in his chair. He was popular with women for a reason, besides his loose spending — the Blaiddyd men bred tall and prone to tapering appealingly from strong shoulder to toned waist, and Rufus had kept himself in that same shape as he’d entered into his early 40s — his face was lined slightly, marked at his eyes and the corners of his mouth with the careless smiles of an adult life lived with abandon. His hair was warmer than his brother’s or nephew’s, not cool blond that had darkened from an infant ice-white, but a vividly red-gold color that blazed thick and sunny all throughout his life. 

“That’s as they report,” answered the man. “They are, of course, offering themselves as aid in the matter of capturing him, while we’re so short-handed.”

“Let them, then. I’m sure their information is accurate.” Rufus brought his chin back down onto his hand. Of course, Cristophe Gaspard had nothing to do with any of this. About half the room knew it, and some of them were so faint of heart they looked shocked or appalled. What precious little cowards. Cornelia made a note about them for later. 

“My lord,” said one, tentatively. “Lord Lonato was once a knight in your service, was he not? As his lord...” 

The other half of the room, the half that didn’t know, looked righteous, and one of them answered first in defense of his lord.

“If Lord Lonato allowed his son to contemplate such monstrosity, then he has betrayed both his lord the archduke and his lord the king; what he ought to do is take revenge into his own hands!”

“I intend to. But not concerning Christophe.” Rufus looked only like he was shoving away a boring chore. As it was: this would let the church think they were busy with something, that was all. “We have more significant action that must be taken than to concern ourselves with him.”

“Ah, yes. Lord Kleinman has a report, Your Highness. It appears emissaries from Duscur’s council of aldermen have come to him seeking peace terms.”

“He should have sent them on to me, not a report.” Rufus glowered. “I am regent.”

“He already knows your answer though, right?” said one man with too much of a smile. He chuckled. “He’s the one dishing out the punishment. You can’t possibly go and fight yourself.”

“I can!” Rufus snarled, pounding the table with his fist. Papers and mugs of beer shook as the whole structure rattled. That was why they couldn’t just replace a Blaiddyd — even the crestless ones had surprising strength. And the ones with crests were beyond even that, monsters in human skin. Their experiments, Solon had told her, were showing real results now, but they weren’t going that well . Rufus’s strength bristled under his shirt-sleeves as the old nerve in him, one she’d have thought killed by drink and sex, reeled as it was struck. “I can, and so I must, or none will believe it of me!”

Everyone was silent until he sat back down, drained his beer and handed the tankard to a servant to have it filled again.

“His part in this measure may be great, but he must remember who has the crown’s authority if he is to receive the crown’s reward.” His cheeks were just the tiniest bit flush when he proclaimed that, the color fading slightly in the next moment.

“Ah, my lord…” said a secretary, who’d been standing by the door with a look of apprehension.”Prince Dimitri has been outside for some time now, demanding to see you. Again. Should I let him in?”

A few people made pitying noises. Rufus dug the heel of his palm into his forehead, preparing himself for what was to follow. He had been avoiding the prince’s efforts to speak to him seriously for some time now. Since the boy had gotten back up onto his feet, more or less. Cornelia had been politely helping him with that, citing the prince’s condition as a reason not to let them talk. ‘He’s been so traumatized after all, we don’t want to upset him further.’ That kind of thing.

“Very well, bring him in.” Rufus sighed. That story couldn’t go on forever, nice as it was for him not to deal with that child. His little brother’s son. 

There were probably people who hadn’t seen the prince properly since the tragedy, and they looked appalled when the drawn little figure entered the room — which was, in its own ways, comical. They had just casually tossed a young man to his death not a moment ago; now, one grave-looking boy was enough to tug at their heartstrings? He’s not even doing that badly anymore! He only trembled a little as he strode forward, as much anger as nerves. 

“Uncle, you must put a stop to this violence,” the prince proclaimed. Oh, yes. He needed to be handled, one way or another.

 ***

“You can’t do this!” “I know what I saw!” Those shouts, high and shattered with fury, had resounded from the walls behind Dedue for a long time, and more besides. Dimitri fought alone in a room where men too important to look at Dedue discussed whether Faerghus would end the retaliation against Duscur now or throw the full weight of the crown’s knights into it. Eventually, there came a wooden cracking noise like a tree collapsing and a great clatter from inside — metal, glass, wood tumbling down onto the stone. The regent’s council shouted in frustration and disgust, their words muffled until only tone remained.

The lady Cornelia had seen Dimitri out after that sound, with Dimitri clutching his left arm as a nasty bruise welled up through it, still shouting. She’d handed Dimitri over with a reminder not to get too worked up; if the arm continued to hurt, she’d have to check it for re-fracturing. 

“I understand you’re upset, Your Highness, but you will have to apologize for the table when you calm down, okay?” She’d said, patting him on the shoulder. She glanced at Dedue, cold and dismissive. Dedue glared back, but she tossed out her order without regard. “You. Keep an eye on him.”

 Dimitri hadn’t responded sensibly. He’d cried and he’d shouted, still carrying out his arguments. His apologies and shouts had given Dedue time to sit them both down on the steps, try and recover his own wits. He felt at once stunned and a gnawing cold misery: He should have known.

 Dimitri’s words had been barely coherent enough for Dedue to assemble what had gone on. They’d said Dimitri was confused. That he hadn’t seen what he said he’d seen — he hadn’t seen his father’s killers the way he thought he had. Not if he said they weren’t from Duscur. The king’s life must be paid for. So the war would not be postponed, would not be stopped, not if he could not produce names for the regent that showed the people of Duscur innocent. 

But he could not produce names. So all he could do was insist and shout and plead until he was like this, his voice worn to shreds, his arm aching, his whole being unfocused and unraveled. The blood would be spilled. That was all there was to it: what other price for a king was there?

“I don’t know who they were... Father, how can this be for you, when it has nothing to do with your killers?! How can you want innocent people to die?!” Dimitri muttered into the echoing expanse. The stairway stretched out before them, descending away from the formal council room into an open hall. The sounds of people were distant, muffled by stone walls. Dedue didn’t attempt to answer him yet. He wasn’t sure he could have. And so Dimitri went on. “...I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’ll get it right. I will. I’m....” He shut his eyes, lowering his head into his hands. “I’m sorry, Dedue.”

This was the first time Dimitri had acknowledged him, and so Dedue had to finally try and find something to say. Everything in him was squeezed tense — his shoulders, his gut, his jaw were all tight, and it was hard to find a way around it.

“It is not your war,” he answered, eventually. A sigh parted his lips. Dedue could only stare upwards at the great, vaulted ceiling. He was not used to feeling small.

 “If I’d only been calmer, would they have believed me?” Dimitri asked, the fury of his voice inward. Dedue was not sure if he entirely believed Dimitri, either. He would have liked to, but Dedue wasn’t entirely sure how to trust his mind; in moments like these, when everything was so close to the surface, it seemed like a ship tossed on the waves. Everything that day had been so confused. Instead, he shrugged. His feet descended down another step, his long legs slipping from their fold. The floor was a great way down.

“Not if they would not think about you when you are...hurt,” is what he said, his voice deliberate, stiff, quiet. He couldn’t say what he was feeling; he didn’t want to. Just let it flatten like a plain until he could build something useful on it. “Perhaps once they have had a battle, they will be tired of it. It will stop.”

“It shouldn’t be happening at all!” Dimitri answered. Obviously, but that wasn’t helpful, save spiritually. “If we could stop it before a true war breaks out, then it’d be OK!” He lifted himself back up to his feet, wincing from his arm. Dedue half-turned to watch the prince pace.”What if I ran away?”

“Where?” Dedue raised an eyebrow.

“To the border, of course! My uncle might be in charge here, but I am the crown prince… And the common soldiers and knights agitate for my father’s sake. The fools,” Dimitri’s eyes narrowed, bitter words breaking through his clenched jaw. His footfalls bounced off the stone. “But surely, they’d listen?” 

The idea had allure; it shimmered between them as a gossamer dream, intangible as light, but just as real. 

“Perhaps…” Their eyes met and held one another, hope sparking for a moment; they’d pack in the dead of night. They’d hurry there, as swiftly as they could, carried on the wind; speak with passion and valor; be heard by people who must have been, in their own ways, simply trying to do what seemed just. 

Dedue tore his eyes away from it. It hurt more than he wanted it to.

“No, you should not.” It stung to say, but the truth had sunk in.

“Why not?” Dimitri’s voice lifted, his footsteps coming to a halt.

“You are not well enough to travel alone. We would be slow and caught together.” Dimitri was much recovered now, at least physically, but a country away was too far. Dimitri knew that and sagged with a shake of his head. 

“...If we were caught, you would certainly bear the brunt of consequences as if you’d kidnapped me,” he said, to Dedue’s surprise. He hadn’t thought about what would happen to him . “I don’t want to imagine what would happen to you, or to everyone else as a result.”

“Hm. Second, even if you managed to move the soldiers and knights… If you cannot move their leaders, they will find more soldiers,” Faerghus was a rack of swords; Faerghus was a place where they said children of their high families learned to fight from the time they were born. The leaders themselves could fight best of all. So there would always be more until there was no one left. 

 “I hate this.” Dimitri’s gaze eventually broke, and he dropped himself back down onto the steps next to Dedue. It should have been a relief to hear — it prickled up against him instead, like a leg half-asleep. Tears weren’t dripping down Dimitri’s face, but they bubbled through as he spoke, his hands covering his face. When his hands dropped, slowly, they left red, scratchy trails. “I hate being so weak. People are going to die — not just soldiers, but fathers and mothers and —! Doesn’t anyone care?”

Part of Dedue was glad Dimitri cared, even if it meant watching him tearing himself to pieces like this. Part of Dedue felt Dimitri’s hands, only closing on air, grabbing him and pulling his heart, and he didn’t want that. He wanted nothing. Dedue’s teeth found his inner lip and bit down on it, unsure which part should win. It was a tiring battle. 

“You do,” he answered, unable to catch what feeling with which he meant it. The feeling in his voice wasn’t relieved, but he went on, “And I need this of you.” He reached out to grab Dimitri’s hands, take them back from the edge before they did more damage. 

“Of course,” Dimitri’s answer was more confused than confident. The hands in Dedue’s grip went slack, stopped resisting. They were limp and lost and defeated. Dedue let them retreat back to Dimitri’s lap. Dimitri had turned to watch Dedue’s face. His eyes looked clearer than they had since he’d gone in the other room — clear enough to see the way Dedue’s jaw was clenched tight and how Dedue hated it, clear enough to see the way his eyelids trembled with what he could not keep holding back. Things clicked, it seemed, and Dedue was surprised to hear Dimitri sniffle back a tear. “I’m sorry; it’s selfish of me to go on like this, when it’s so hard on you. But I refuse to surrender, and neither should you.”

“So what will you do? Will you continue to ask?” He tried to ignore the matter of himself, of how hard it was . He rested his hand on the stone, shutting his eyes and feeling its polished surface under his hand. His fingertips brushed over little pits and light flecks marring the darker shades. Dedue envied it — cold and quiet and stable; it hadn’t so much as warmed under him. It endured everything, and it felt nothing. It didn’t wonder if that place was home, even with nothing left for him but memories that toyed with comforting and hurting him. It didn’t have to remember. It didn’t clench itself, toes to teeth, when the memories of swords and fire still echoed, summoned by the flames burning miles away, summoned by the sound of knights, summoned by the knowledge that right behind him, at that moment, were men who would toss a world into that fire if it only satisfied their blood. It could simply not have those feelings when it couldn’t do anything about them. 

“If I can start by clearing the names of the people of Duscur…  Then there surely everyone will see sense. I know there are people who don’t want this — they can’t . But everyone is hurt and frightened. If they understand, then we can make peace and make things right!” He insisted, clenching his hands over the air. But he didn’t begin to scratch himself again. “I owe it to you, and everyone who died, and everyone who will die. I will… try to remember anything that could point to their true identities. I know it might not be heard at all. Fools. Fools.” Dimitri shook his head, his eyes tightening. His hands balled into white-knuckled fists, tremors running through them. Dedue pressed his hand harder onto the stone, trying to block out what was creeping in him like the first freeze. How hopeless it all was — someone who had actual courage, trying to plead for human lives with men like that.  “But I can’t stand for Faerghus’ justice to be used as nothing but a cudgel.”

And Dedue’s hand slipped off the step. His knuckles, so tense they could have burst through his skin, scraped against it. The tendons in his neck froze into place, wound like a clock whose springs went tighter and tighter, until finally — he snapped. 

“That is what it is,” he said, voice plain and simple, and finally dropping a weight. He didn’t stop, couldn’t stop. Why was he saying this? It would be easier if he didn’t. His throat tightened like it might choke him. “They do not want your words to matter, and so, they will not work. What they wish for is battle. What happens next is of no consequence to them. 

“Perhaps some it is just.” He almost tossed the words at Dimitri, whose eyes were wide and staring, wounded at not being believed even by Dedue. Then they drew nearly to a close, softly, which was worse. He must have seen how misty Dedue looked. He felt like an avalanche, moving downhill — his words came with a building momentum, inexorable.“I cannot judge. I know that Duscur is like anywhere, maybe even here… There are good and bad people. Murderers. Children. But it is all the same to them. How could it ever stop?”

 He took a long breath, found it harder than he expected; it sputtered and broke before becoming deep enough. He was not yet crying — but he understood, he would. He couldn’t stop anymore; he’d broken at last, and now he could simply keep sliding down into his own depths. Part of him wanted to stop. To keep going on with the life he’d found worth living after the people who’d made his life before were gone, pretending he’d never felt like this. He shut his hands tight. They were shaking with bottled-up feeling.

“I truly...hate it. All of it. I hate knowing what Faerghus can do, will do, has done . I hate being looked at the same as if I had killed your father myself.” But going on as if it weren’t true wouldn’t make it untrue — still. He felt like as he pulled and pulled, it just went deeper. Feelings dark as night he hadn’t named , had put aside. It wasn’t hot — it was cold, so cold. It was drowning and freezing at once. He envied the stones, he really did: stones didn’t turn themselves over and see something they hated. “I hate the way I am spoken of… They way only I could not be let by your side when you were hurt, because of them… And —”  His eyes fell on Dimitri, then, and he understood. There was nothing that feeling did not touch. He recalled the way Dimitri’s feelings could drag his own out of him, and now — now that face, lips tense, eyebrows set gravely, and eyes red-rimmed and so, so sad for him — so uninjured by all Dedue had said, save that he didn’t believe. So undefended, like Dedue could plunge in a knife.

 “...I hate how ugly I am, to feel the way I do,” Dedue croaked, unable to look at that gods-cursed face a moment longer. He couldn’t change how he felt, not anymore, but he could stop. He could turn away; it would just have to be bolted up inside of him, turning his innards black with frostbite. 

“I think you’re right to be angry,” Dimitri answered, which made it all worse. “You’re right to hate all of this...What happened that day, what’s happened since, is monstrous, and nothing else. Even if no one else sees that right now, I…” His voice was shaking. Still somehow, Dedue was the one with the knife in him when Dimitri said, “feel like that, too. I don’t mean to say they compare, but… I think your fury just.”

“Dimitri, you do not understand.” He was unable to bolt it in if Dimitri kept dragging it out — stop, just stop. “It is still uglier than that… To hate all that I hate.”

“Oh.” Dimitri’s face briefly slackened, until it somehow — worse than anything — masked itself in a bland little smile, the smile of the Prince of Faerghus. Even if it collapsed almost instantly, it had been placed. The eyebrows drawn sadly together, the smile reaching his eyes not happily, but with soft self-deprecation. ”Me.”

“...I do not know if it is hate. I do not know the right word.” He knew just the right word in his own language, and said it aloud then — a word that meant something that ground you like wheat in a mill until you were bitter and tired.

 It hung there in the air, waiting for something, but all Dimitri could do was shake his head. He couldn’t translate that one, either. Before Dimitri could say anything, Dedue held up his hand. The feeling was awake, alive, trapped under his ribs and locked up in his lungs, his neck, his closed-off teeth. The borrowed tongue fell away from him, then he returned to his own. Dimitri would have to keep up, to guess over gaps in his knowledge of the language, as Dedue so often had to with him. He couldn’t say it any other way. 

“<I am… mad at you, sometimes. Something like that, anyway. I’m mad at who you are and what you mean.

“<You are the ‘prince’ of Faerghus. And this is so important that I’m unworthy of you to everyone . You bear their name! They kill for that name, for your father’s name, for that title I barely understand! Your good name is… so precious to them. But when the time comes…>” Turning this on Dimitri hurt. But that truth also hounded him — it leapt up his closed-off throat.  He hurried over the words, not looking to see if he was understood. Dimitri did not try to stop him — good enough. “<It’s all meaningless. It’s all useless . It’s cruel to ask you to carry this, but if you can’t, then no one will. I see that, now. It’s cruel that you’re the only one there is to ask.

“<And…Sometimes, I’m mad at you because I think…>”Dedue’s feelings crested, swelling up in his chest until they pounded against him, and came out the only way they could. Hot tears pooled in his eyes and dropped smoothly down. His voice was small and hoarse, a pained whisper. “<Why me, Dimitri? Why not save someone else?>” 

The bit of Dedue that pounded against his breastbone like a maddened, captured bird wanted Dimitri to not understand. Or more; say Dedue had no right to feel that way about his savior, or to say he did the best he could, or to say there was some reason for it to be him — some divine reason, some calculated reason, some reason less or more than that even the life of a stranger could be precious. Then Dedue could be truly mad at him, truly angry, then he could admire Dimitri a little less, care for him a little less, cut Faerghus into one great bloody clump and hate it all with a chill he’d hardly known was there until this moment, when he looked it in that hollow-eyed face. 

And when the hate had wrung out of him like tears, he really could turn his heart into stone.

But Dimitri didn’t say that. Not a word of it. Instead, he frowned, his eyes gone soft teardrop blue. He almost reached out a hand, but though it hovered in the space between them for a moment, it retreated to fall back onto his lap.

“I know that, for everyone I could not save then and cannot save now, there is neither excuse nor forgiveness. It would be mad, not to hate me after how much we’ve hurt you...There’s nothing ugly about it.” Dimitri stared at the hand he had almost reached out, his expression still somewhere far away from it. The silence stretched until he looked Dedue head-on again, a sad smile pulling at the corners of his mouth as he whispered, small and hoarse,  “It’s OK.”

 Something thawed out inside him at those words, easing into the shelter they gave him.  It was OK. Nothing could make its way out of Dedue save tears. Silent, marked only by the faintest tremor that ran through him. It was OK. That black frost was still somewhere inside of him, and that was OK. Dimitri’s answer took him by the hand and warmed him, piece by piece, massaging his jaw until it let go, until his fingers and toes unclenched, until that feeling had surrendered him. All the things he’d gambled on Dimitri’s answer, all the things he’d considering throwing aside, all the rest of him came back to meet him, shocking as a spring flood — his heart, his hope, his life. 

His shoulders shook; his throat worked to make a breathless whine. Dimitri’s hand reached for him, and Dedue slumped into the touch wordlessly. Stone could never be warmed like this, not if it sat in the sun a million years.

“I won’t give up. I swear. I swear. I...I’m sorry you have to ask that. I’m so sorry.” Dimitri murmured, voice bare. And this, too, was a hurt stone couldn’t know. He had survived. They had survived, and this was all the reason that there was for it. Dimitri’s body heat was added to Dedue’s side as he, all the parts of the Prince of Faerghus that were simply Dimitri, leaned his head against Dedue’s shoulders. When Dedue didn’t shift away, a sob tore from him. He looked up through lashes only a little darker gold than the rest of him, blue summer skies streaked through with cloudy tears. He whispered something from the back of his throat. . “It really is a painful thing to wonder, isn’t it?”

 All Dedue could say for his understanding was in the way he leaned his own weight against Dimitri’s side. The smaller boy didn’t fold or crumple, but stayed, their figures leaned close to one another. His tears fell onto Dimitri’s hair as they slid down his face; Dimitri’s tears pooled against Dedue’s neck. It was regret and hurt in them, hate and frustration. They were surprisingly warm. The boys huddled on each other’s shoulder, there on the steps before the regent’s council chamber. When the adults exited, they would have to go around. The two of them wouldn’t be moved just yet. He didn’t have to move. He didn’t have to attempt to stop. For a long time, they simply wept for a world they could not change. They didn’t speak another word until all the tears had been wrung out from the bottom of Dedue’s heart, from Dimitri’s heart, from the burning plains of Duscur, miles and miles away.

[afewmarvelousthoughts]

Stay Ch. 9

Master List: @afewmarvelousthoughtsadmin

Pairing: Natasha X Reader (Female)

Summary: You have a gift, the ability to see other people’s innermost secrets. For years you used it to gather intel for the highest bidder when you take on The Widow. After she becomes more than a mark the two of you spend years stealing moments. Post snap you wait in your designated meeting place, look back on the sordid past you share with the woman you love and hope against everything that she’s still alive.

Warnings: Physical violence, crime(?), SMUT

A/N:  This is the longest chapter of Stay I’ve done but I just couldn’t bring myself to break it up into two small chapters. I’m just gonna come out and say that after the cut is just a chunk of smut, sweet sweet smut (I’m still feeling some kind of way about the smut I write but whatever it’s fun). And don’t these two deserve some smut?! 

I hope y’all are still enjoying these ladies as we kind of go on this winding journey with them. This one is so different in pace from my other stuff, that it kind of throws me a bit and I worry I’m not building enough up here. But -shrug- Oh anxiety how I love you making me question literally EVERY SINGLE GODDAMN THING I DO. 

Still I’m so happy this happens to be my last fic post of 20-GAYteen (I mean I pushed this to today just to make sure it was lol). Gay smutty and emotional. Perfect ending to a stressful year lol.

Tags are open!

@mywinterwolf  @disagreetoagree @breezy1415 @peachthatdrinkslemonade @5aftermidnight  @jeromethepsycho @daniellajocelyn @marvel-randomness @katecolleen  @yanginginthere @buckysstar

You don’t care about the money. Sure it was the biggest payout you had ever agreed to, yes the money would be a great cushion, hell you could stop working for a bit. But you had been in enough tight spots throughout your whole life that you knew when to cut and run.

Back in your hotel, you throw your things into your bag, double check the few weapons you carry, and leave out the back formulating an escape plan as you go. A car would be the best option, the airport was too risky, too visible. So you head to the closest car park and plan to jump the shittiest car you can find.

As you jimmy the door of an old Peugeot you sense someone approaching you, the vibe distinctly making you think of that Brock fuck from earlier. You spin and a knife just misses you. Grabbing your bag you run. At the edge of the lot he catches you and slams you into the brick wall you face scraping against it.

“You know,” he growls in your ear, his breath hot and damp, “Pretty girls like you really shouldn’t be out alone at night.” You push back against him testing his weight and stance and he presses harder, “This is really going to be much easier for you if you just play along.”

He can’t see the sly smile that curls your lips. This wasn’t the first man to think he could easily get the drop on you. Before you could have defended yourself well enough, but now… Thanks, Honey, you think as you kick his feet from under him and slam your elbow into his face as he falls. Just like Natasha showed you.

He is, however, tough. In an instant he’s up, nose bleeding, “Oh, I’m going to enjoy fucking you up now.”

“I bet,” you drawl you lip curling up in disgust. He lunges at you and there’s the perfect moment for you to use Natasha’s headlock. It’s as satisfying as you anticipated. You don’t have to try to knock him unconscious though. Thighs squeezing his throat you rest your hands on his head. Initially, your intention is to do to him what you had done to the merc in the warehouse, completely rupture his brain, but he slams you both onto the hood of a car before you’re able. Not before you can do just enough to render him unconscious though.  

He slides down the hood from between your legs and you try to get breath back into your lungs and fight the spinning in your head from slamming it into the car’s windshield. There wasn’t time to gather yourself though. You had to assume he wasn’t alone. Grabbing your bag you sprint toward the nearest populated street.

People seem to think it’s best to stick to the outskirts when you went on the run but really the more people around you the better your chances. Especially when dealing with someone who obviously wants to stay off the radar.

In front of a busy touristy restaurant, you note a valet. Perfect.

You felt bad about knocking the kid unconscious, and a Mercedes wasn’t exactly low-key, but right now it was run or be killed, or worse… captured.

As you drive, you try to sort through the images that sunk in from this Brock. No other personal information but his first name had come to you but you saw training that didn’t look to be U.S. military, a fleeting glimpse of an emblem that looked like an octopus, and some sort of ceremony that made you think of videos you had seen of Nazi Youth rallies. You were certain that he was still a lackey. Just a pawn sent by someone to collect you. Because he had said ‘fuck you up’ not ‘kill you.’ Those were two very different things.

Then there was the emotion you gathered from him, conviction. This was something beyond just some crime syndicate. No. That level of devotion was fanatical. He enjoyed hurting you, he was enjoying it because he thought there was some deeper purpose he was serving by doing it.

Every part of you wants to warn Natasha. Be able to tell her something to signify that things have gone very wrong with this gig. Sadly, the two of you hadn’t thought that far ahead. Right now the only thing you could do was get the hell out of Turkey, head into some nondescript European city and wait for her call.

- Post Snap -

You run your finger around the edge of your crystal tumbler, making the glass sing. While you hadn’t gone to your room you had switched to a corner booth. A few tables down a man is on his side on the bench, curled up, weeping softly.

You envy him. Other than a few stray tears weeping hadn’t come to you. Falling apart couldn’t happen, not yet. Even when you saw your team turn to fucking dust you hadn’t cried, just stared in horror. Shock maybe. Or maybe at this point in your life, you were just too broken to show quite that much emotion. Who knew?

Brock. the name rolls around in your head. Brock fucking Rumlow. If only you had gotten his last name then. Maybe if that had come to you so many things would be different… better… maybe then you wouldn’t be sitting in this hotel bar at the end of the world wondering if you were too broken to properly mourn.

Rage, red and hot begins to fill you. Not just at him but at them all… everything and everyone who seemed determined to make your life hell. You shake with the emotion, the energy from it welling inside you, making the space between your brows ache.

The bartender, leaning on the counter and staring into space, suddenly looks in your direction. Instinct telling her what her other senses can’t. That someone or something here is very… wrong. A threat she can perceive though she can’t tell what it is or why she’s feeling this. You force yourself to take a deep breath, quelling the anger inside you just a touch. She seems to relax once you’re no longer flinging your emotions into the room.

Once again you turn your thoughts back to your memories. Something to ground you so you didn’t send the room into a frenzy on accident.

Dublin, that was where you landed after Turkey. A part of you had wanted to head back to the states but that fucker was obviously American and you wanted to be close enough to get to Natasha quickly.

Thankfully, her time in the Red Room was short and you were only there for a few weeks before the message came through to meet her in Prague.

- February 2005 -

You sit at the bar of the mid-range hotel Natasha chose sipping on a Makers. You’re on edge, had been for weeks ever since your run in with Brock. All your digging had brought up nothing but dead ends and cold leads. However, three days ago, the agreed payment had been deposited into one of your accounts.

You didn’t touch it. Still weren’t sure you would. All efforts to backtrack the transaction led nowhere. Whoever that employer had been they were a ghost now. It left the worst taste in your mouth that even the Makers couldn’t drown.

You sense her before seeing her. Her aura louder than a siren. Your heart skips a few beats and a smile fills your face. Spinning on your bar stool you look to the lobby. Her sleek black trench conceals her figure and large sunglasses hide much of her face, still, she has the presence of a stunning woman. Your woman.

Natasha’s eyes light on you and it feels like you’re caught in the best kind of electrical storm. All your hair is on end your skin tingling just by her looking at you and smiling. Damn.

She nods toward the elevator and walks away. You leave a tip on the bar and follow her.

Just to be safe you don’t acknowledge one another at the elevator. Well, no more than two strangers would. Just smile and nod while looking to passersby that you’re standing in companionable silence. Nothing gives away the fact that the air between you is on fire with emotion. The doors slide open and somehow you maintain composure on the ride up.

It’s the longest elevator ride of your life. The wait as you were bleeding from that stab wound was less intense. When you finally close the door to the room nothing in the whole damn world could keep you from one another.

Immediately you press her against the wall, desperate to taste her kiss. Gripping her shoulders you press your lips to hers. It feels like the first breath you’ve taken in weeks. Her body melts into yours immediately. Reaching up you pluck the sunglasses from her face and toss them away.

Emeralds peek from beneath her lashes. The circles under her eyes only making the color all the more striking. On her right cheekbone is the ghost of a bruise. Tenderly you press a kiss to it. Without a word she opens the memory to you, a woman’s swift backhand cracking over her face. It didn’t matter. You had her now.

Pulling back your hands find hers. Gently you tug her to the bed. At the foot, you slip your fingers into the knot of the trench coat belt and undo it before sliding the garment to the floor. She takes your chin in her hand and pulls you into another kiss and you slide your hands around to the back of her skirt tugging the zipper down.

As her skirt slides down her hips you do the same, slowly sinking to your knees before her. You hook your fingers into the lace of her underwear and pull them to her ankles, holding her gaze. Her nails dig through your thick curls and scratch your scalp, sending tingles through your body as you bring your mouth to her, sucking a bit, teasing.

When the small moan of pleasure tumbles from her, you grab her hips and push her back onto the plush bed. Surrendering she tumbles back, with more grace than should be allowed, her legs tangled in her heels, skirt, and underwear dangle from the edge. Freeing her of the skirt and underwear, you slip the killer heels from her feet and run lingering kisses up her legs.

Goosebumps cover her creamy skin and her breathing is ragged. A part of you wants to tease her, drag this out, take time ridding her of blouse before having her but you’re not that strong-willed, unfortunately. Your lips press gently against her folds, tongue just barely tracing the outline of her.

“Fuck,” she sighs as her sips lift and her fingers tangle in your hair. When your tongue flicks across her clit she cries out just a little and the burning in the base of your abdomen ticks up a notch.

Yes. This is what you both need. Forget everything else. Right now there’s just this. Just the taste of her, the sound, her fingers in your hair. This was everything.

You suck at her clit, your nails digging into her thighs and she shudders with pleasure. Sliding two fingers into her you can tell she’s already on the edge, thighs shaking, breath ragged. Yes. You plunge as deep as you can, fingers curling just a touch, rolling her clit under your tongue.

“Y/N!” She cries, “Please baby. Oh, fuck!” Her hips buck up and you press them down hard with your left forearm holding her steady.

Her orgasm crashes into the both of you like a fucking hurricane. Holding your head steady her body practically convulses and you feel her walls contract against your fingers as you fuck her through it. Beyond the physical her emotions and pleasure curl into your body setting you on fire. This is very new and absolutely fucking incredible.

“Natasha,” you breathe out. You feel almost drunk as she guides you onto the bed.

Your head hits the pillow and you watch her slip the woven white blouse over her head revealing a lacy bra. You were so used to seeing her in tactical dress that it takes your breath away.

“You’re fucking beautiful you know,” you drawl taking her in. She smiles and lowers to your face kissing you deeply as her hands unbutton your jeans. Releasing the kiss she works them off you. You lean up and tear your tee off, desperate to feel her body pressed to you. Hovering over you she smiles as she presses her right thigh against your center, already slick. Your eyes flutter closed, the mix of emotions coming from her truly intoxicating.

“I say,” she whispers before kissing you, “we don’t leave this room for 24 hours.”

That was the best idea you’d heard from her yet

[esonetwork]

Timestamp #223: The Doctor's Wife

New Post has been published on https://esonetwork.com/timestamp-223-the-doctors-wife/

Timestamp #223: The Doctor's Wife

Doctor Who: The Doctor’s Wife (1 episode, s06e04, 2011)

“Where’s my thief!?”

A woman named Idris is led to a platform by “Auntie”, “Uncle”, and “Nephew”, the last of which is an Ood who drains her mind in preparation for a Time Lord’s arrival.

On the TARDIS, the Doctor, Amy, and Rory are surprised by a knock on the door. Even though they are in deep space, the shave-and-a-haircut routine reveals an emergency hypercube message for the Doctor, presumably sent by another Time Lord named the Corsair. They follow the signal contained within, dumping excess TARDIS rooms for fuel, and break through to another universe.

Almost immediately, the TARDIS goes dark. The matrix – the heart and soul of the TARDIS – has vanished. While the Doctor puzzles over where it would go, Idris awakens with an exhale of golden regeneration energy.

The travelers exit the TARDIS into a junkyard. Luckily, there’s plenty of rift energy so refueling should be easy. On the other hand, the Doctor is accosted by Idris, who presents as an insane woman calling the Time Lord her “thief”. After taking care of Idris, the Doctor turns his attention to the green-eyed Ood. After fixing the Ood’s sphere, it broadcasts a series of interwoven distress messages from various Time Lords. As Auntie and Uncle take Idris back to the House, the Doctor expresses his intrigue at the possible presence of his own people.

In the House, the asteroid is revealed to be sentient. The asteroid tells the Doctor that many TARDISes and Time Lords have come and gone, but there are no others now. The travelers explore a bit. Amy points out that the Doctor is seeking forgiveness from his people. The Doctor sends the companions back to the TARDIS in search of his sonic screwdriver. Once they arrive, the doors lock as a green mist swirls about the phone box. Meanwhile, the Doctor had his sonic the entire time. Cheeky devil.

The Doctor discovers a collection of Time Lord distress signal cubes. He realizes that Auntie and Uncle have been mended over time by the asteroid with parts of the various Time Lords, including the ouroboros-tattooed arm of the Corsair.

Knowing that Idris foretold the Doctor’s discovery, he confronts her. There he finds out that she holds the matrix. She is the personification of the TARDIS. The Doctor releases her and together they determine that House feeds on TARDISes, which it can only do if it removes the matrices first. The Doctor tries to retrieve Amy and Rory from the TARDIS, but the phone box dematerializes with the chiming of the Cloister Bell and heads back to N-Space. Unfortunately for the companions, the House has hijacked the TARDIS.

In the junkyard, Uncle and Auntie collapse as they lose their source of life. Idris herself only has a short time to live but encourages the Doctor to explore the TARDIS junkyard for a way home. When the Doctor asks what he should call her, Idris tells him (much to his chagrin) that he named her “Sexy”.

House asks why he shouldn’t just kill the humans. Rory stalls for time by suggesting that they could provide entertainment. House agrees, prompting them to run for their lives through the corridors in a series of nightmare scenarios.

As the Doctor assembles a TARDIS from spare parts, he and Idris argue. The discussion ranges from how police box doors open outward (“Pull to Open”, which actually refers to the phone compartment), how the TARDIS always takes the Doctor where he needs to go, the Time Lord’s fascination with “strays”, and how the TARDIS wanted to travel so she stole the Doctor to take her on an adventure.

With a kiss to the time rotor, the patchwork TARDIS console room dematerializes and gives chase. Idris sends “the pretty one” a set of telepathic directions to one of her old console rooms. Rory leads Amy to the archived desktop of the Ninth and Tenth Doctor’s console room. There they lower the TARDIS’s shields but are pursued by Nephew. Just in time, the patchwork console materializes in the archived console room and vaporizes the Ood, marking another one that the Doctor failed to save.

After introductions are made, Idris collapses and House muses about ways to kill the Doctor and his companions. The Doctor gives House instructions on how to get the TARDIS back to N-Space, but when House starts deleting rooms for the journey, it inadvertently invokes a failsafe that protects living things from being deleted with the rooms. As the travelers materialize in the real console room, House suggests that they should fear him since he’s killed Time Lords before and won’t hesitate to do it again.

The Doctor replies that House should fear him. He’s killed all of them.

The Doctor stalls for time as he points out the concept of trapping the matrix in a human body. The goal was to get the matrix as far as possible from the console room, but House has brought the matrix home. With her last breath, Idris releases the matrix. It swirls about and reintegrates with the TARDIS, overriding and consuming House.

As a last gift, the TARDIS speaks through Idris. She remembers the word that she’s been searching for – “alive” – and tells him the one thing she’s never been able to say: “Hello, Doctor. It’s so very very nice to meet you.” In a bright flash of light, Idris disappears, offering her final words of “I love you” to her companion.

Some time later, the Doctor installs a firewall around the matrix. Rory tells him that Idris’s final words to him were, “The only water in the forest is the river,” which she believed that they needed to know for the future. Amy and Rory ask for a new bedroom – preferably one with a double bed instead of bunk beds – since theirs was deleted. He tells them how to get there, then spends some time with the TARDIS console. He asks the ship where she wants to go, even if it’s the Eye of Orion for a little rest and relaxation.

The levers flip on their own accord. The TARDIS sets a course. Adventure awaits.

What a beautiful ride.

When I first saw this episode back in 2011, I was confused by it. The fast pace coupled with rapid-fire references lost me. This time around, however, I relished the experience. The story is well-written and plays off of each of the main characters so nicely, from the Doctor’s desire to be forgiven for his actions in the Last Great Time War to Amy and Rory’s love. The latter of which was actually sold quite well here despite my skepticism of it last season.

The core of this story is the Doctor’s relationship to the TARDIS, which is played beautifully by giving a voice to a consciousness that exists simultaneously across all time and space. The relationship is pretty much that of a married couple, and the TARDIS’s finally expressed love for her companion is one born of their mutual adventures. I love that the TARDIS has archived past console rooms – which presumably means that a blank room is simply formatted with the “desktop” file from previous iterations – and that the TARDIS already knows what rooms are coming up next.

Amusingly, Neil Gaiman has requested that the archive scene feature a classic-era console room, but the budget wasn’t available for that. So, the production team left the coral console room standing for this story. This episode was supposed to air during Series Five but was pushed to this point in time so there was quite a long production lead for it.

The Doctor’s TARDIS also is pretty explicit about the nature of other time capsules. The Time Lords have previously treated them as nothing more than machines or vehicles, but Idris refers to her dead siblings as sisters. That matches well with nautical traditions of referring to all ships as female, but also gives us insight into the culture of the TARDISes overall.

This story featured the Doctor piloting a TARDIS other than his own for the first time on screen – at this point in time, Shada had not yet been completed – and that patchwork ship was the creation of 12-year-old Susannah Leah for a Blue Peter contest, complete with safety straps on the console (hello, Timelash!). The Doctor previously traveled with only the TARDIS console in Inferno. This story was also the first one since Horror of Fang Rock to kill every character except the Doctor and the companions.

Neil Gaiman reached way back for some of the elements here. We first (and last) saw the hypercube in The War Games, last saw the TARDIS’s telepathic circuits used to mess with the companions in The Edge of Destruction, and found the Doctor rebuilding the TARDIS in both The Claws of Axos and The Horns of Nimon. Lest we forget the concept of jettisoning rooms on the TARDIS, which we’ve seen on at least three occasions (Logopolis, Castrovalva, and Paradise Towers), or the idea of tricking the villain into fixing the TARDIS (ala Frontios).

It’s obvious that he’s a fan of the show and has done his homework.

He also deliberately provided the first confirmation in the franchise mythology that Time Lords can change gender during regeneration. I covered many of the reasons why this was a brilliant and easily defensible concept when Jodie Whittaker was announced as the Thirteenth Doctor, and I still stand by it. Gaiman’s choice of the ouroboros – the snake eating its own tail, a symbol for eternity – for the Corsair’s personal emblem was a great representation of both Time Lord culture and the nature of Doctor Who.

This story is just amazing as a franchise game-changer and ode to the show’s history. To call it fantastic is an understatement, but it’s the highest choice I have.

Rating: 5/5 – “Fantastic!”

UP NEXT – Doctor Who: The Rebel Flesh and Doctor Who: The Almost People

The Timestamps Project is an adventure through the televised universe of Doctor Who, story by story, from the beginning of the franchise. For more reviews like this one, please visit the project’s page at Creative Criticality.

[vohskyfire]

Metroid: Samus Returns Review

2017 has been a great year for games. Like, a really great year.

Nintendo had the critically acclaimed Breath of the Wild, the Switch has been a massive success, Persona 5 happened, Crash Trilogy was released to the public, Fire Emblem Shadows of Valentia: Echoes was released, Fire Emblem Heroes has been received nicely, Splatoon 2 and Arms are awesome. And surprisingly, Mario + Rabbids Kingdom Battle is one of the best new games to come out from the Mario franchise. (And that's saying something since it's the Rabbids.)

Then E3 happened. While it was mostly boring, a lot of people got incredibly hyped up for Nintendo. Who came out swinging with big names for their franchises, and ONE game was dropped that shocked everyone.

Metroid Prime 4.

Metroid, which many people thought was dead, was alive again. And people were screaming in joy.

Little did we know though, that it wasn't the only Metroid to be revealed.

Another one was shown at E3 as well during that live stream, a new 2D Metroid that was the official remake from Nintendo for Metroid 2, Return of Samus. Entitled "Metroid: Samus Returns."

(And then everyone knew why that pulled a take down on AMR2, but that is NOT the subject of this review.)

Everyone immediately flipped their shit. 2 Metroid games announced, and one was coming out THIS YEAR in September. And it was clear as day to see, Metroid was alive and kicking.

Samus Returns, while having a big hand from Nintendo during the development, was developed my Mercury Steam. A company that got famous for doing Castlevania Lords of Shadow, a series that has the fans split, and before that game Clive Barker's Jericho. So it was very interesting to see this European team come to Nintendo with the idea of remaking a Metroid title.

And to me at least? Nintendo and Sakamoto picked the right team to do the job.

Without a doubt, this is the 3DS' Swan Song. The last great game on the system before Nintendo eventually pulls the plug on the greatest hand held ever to give the Switch the attention that it deserves.

Samus Returns is a fantastic game. Everything that fans of the 2D Metroids love is in this game, and it is done beautifully. Environments look crisp, character models look right at home for the 3DS, though at times they can appear to be a little jagged, are beautiful models. Graphics wise, it's probably one of the best looking 3DS games on the market. If not the best looking 3DS game to date.

Gameplay wise, Samus Returns is a, no pun intended, a return to the series' 2D giant map exploring roots from the previous entrees in the franchise. Samus can jump, roll, shoot, and collect items just like she could in the older games. So nothing has really changed all that much in terms of gameplay from the older games.

Though, there are new functions that help make the game feel a lot better than the predecessors in the 2D Metroid games.

The ability to aim in a 360 angle. The counter attack. And the Aeion abilities.

The first one is something I feel Metroid games SHOULD have had from the very beginning. Being able to aim in ANY direction is a goddamn god send. Especially when you're trying to make some of the trickier shots in this game. (TAKE NOTE, SUPER METROID YOU OVERRATED PIECE OF-) The only kind of down side is that you can't move and aim anywhere you want when you use this mode. I guess they were aiming for realism a bit that Samus can only shoot at all directions when standing still, but being able to shoot anywhere on the move would help as well. But for what it was meant to do, the 360 aiming does it well.

The next is the counter attack. Hands down, one of the best new moves in the series. And by best, I mean it can be ridiculous OP in the right moments. Whenever you counter an enemy, be it boss or regular, the counter will leave them wide open enough for you to unleash a powerful attack into them that kills them in one shot (Or if it's a Metroid, you get a cool moment of Samus just owning the fuck out of the Metroid evolution) that often gives you energy or missile ammo as an award for pulling off a successful counter. If you get really good with the Counter, you might find yourself using it way more than the actual weapons that Samus usually uses.

And finally, the Aeion abilities.

Hands down, one of the best things to be added into the series.

The Aeion abilities give Samus four unique skills that can be used by equipping them with the D-Pad and using them with the A Button. Scan (which reveals a part of the map and hidden items), Lighting Armor (reduces damage you take and hurts the enemy that hit you), Rapid Fire (WHICH KILLS EVERYTHING), and Slow Time Down (Obvious explanation is obvious) These four moves are incredibly useful and are necessarily for your survival and exploration of SR388. Now don't worry, they maybe overpowered by they require a new energy bar. The Aeion Energy Bar. This bar goes down quiet a bit if you abuse your Aeion abilities way too much. And in this game resources for your weapons and abilities are everything. There's also little robots that activate an EMP of some kind to fuck around with your ability to use the Aeion Abilities, so don't rely on them TOO much.

The overall objective of this game is pretty much what Metroid 2, and AMR2, was. Kill all the Metroids in sight. And while the ending does have a bit of a twist to it, it's a cut and paste version of the story. Nothing needed to be changed that much, and it is good to see them not change the story too much.

Bottom line though? This is easily one of the best 3DS games ever made. And it damn sure is the best 2D Metroid game ever made as well. Yes, even better than SUPER Metroid. If Mercury Steam is brought back to make Metroid Dread, or even remake Super Metroid, I would be a hundred percent down with this idea.

There's really not a lot to complain about with this game. Other than the fact that you can get lost easily, it's a solid damn good game.

9.5/10: Get it and play it/ It deserves the praise.

[burgermiester]

Grinding Renown Made Fun!*

*Grinding for Renown in Fire Emblem Awakening is never really fun.  Its tedious, and if you want to max it out it will take many, many hours. This guide is just to show you how I made it as fun as I could while still keeping it relatively fast and efficient.  Maybe you will want to try it for yourself or make a variation based on what you like. 

(also note that my method uses a lot of the DLC so if you dont have at least Lost Bloodlines 2 and Smash Brethren 2 for Dread Fighter and Bride then it probably wont work very well, but maybe you can modify it, I am not sure.  It also would probably be nice to have Lost Bloodlines 3 for Paragon and I liked having all stats +2 from Champions of Yore 3 but those 2 arent necessary)

For starters I want to be very clear that everyone knows this isnt technically the fastest way to grind renown.  The fastest way to grind renown is exactly what it says on the wiki: make a ton of money on golden gaffe then summon a weak/cheap character, pay to recruit them, then dismiss them, repeat 2000 times.  I tried doing this on a file where I was at endgame and I found it terribly boring, which in turn meant it was not the fastest way for me to grind renown since it would take me forever to find the energy to do it. 

So when deciding how I wanted to grind renown for myself I had a few objectives: fight the spotpass characters, not buy them, and make fighting them as quick as possible; minimize the number of spaces that a spotpass character could spawn when I summon them to cut down on walking around the world map; minimize the number of times that I go into the wireless menu to make it easier to multitask (basically it was harder to watch movies or tv in the background using the fastest method since its so menu heavy, so I wanted to cut that time spent down); if possible, completely eliminate the need to manage items on my units.  I solved all these issues and these are the steps of my method (the Miester Method?):

Step 0: Grind supports before you even start grinding renown. Grinding out supports is much more interesting than grinding renown.  You get new dialogue after most fights and a lot of it is interesting.  Just make sure you are grinding on spotpass characters instead of risen since spotpass fights/purchases give the most renown, that way you are maximizing your gains for when you run out of supports to grind and are ready to move onto proper renown grinding.

Step 0.1: Pray your past self really loved playing Awakening.  Just having played the game a lot normally will put you in a nice starting position.  By the time I finished support grinding gen 1 and moved on to renown grinding I was at nearly 45,000 renown, close to half of the 99,999 max.  I cant recall how much of that was support grinding on spotpass characters and how much was there from just playing a ton of Awakening, I forgot to check, but both helped. 

OK, now on to the actual steps for renown grinding.

Step 1: Start a new game.  You arent challenging yourself here so just go normal casual. 

Step 2: Play the game up until Chapter 8 (but dont play chapter 8.)�� Also beat Paralogues 1 and 3 but not 2.  This should have your world map looking like this:

The reason you want to do this is because it leaves your world map with exactly 10 empty spaces in which to summon spotpass characters.  As 10 is the maximum number of spotpass units you can summon at once, having 10 spots on the map lets you spend the least amount of time in the wireless menu.  Its also good to not allow more than 10 free spots because every extra square you add means more time wasted walking across the map.  This is why its not a good idea to do this grinding at endgame: you could be on Donnel’s island and summon a bunch of spotpass units in Valm and vice versa. 

Now, as for why I picked prologue-chapter 7 and paralogue 1 and 3 over other choices for my 10 map spots, it mostly came down to map layout.  They are all small early game chapters that take only 2-3 turns to beat on auto battle most of the time.  Paralogue 2 was much too big and would take more turns to beat and Chapter 8 is full of turn adding desert.  Remember, youll be fighting MANY battles in these maps, an extra turn or two each time translates to hundreds of extra turns in the long run.  That being said, I want to emphasize that if you havent gotten lucky getting second seals from the random shop annas, you should play chapter 8.  Chapter 8 gives you Gregor and another second seal, Gregor is especially important because hes got armsthrift without using a second seal (more on that in a bit).  I had already gotten 1 other second seal from Anna by the time I got to chapter 7 so I chose to not play chapter 8, whether or not you do is up to you.  If you choose to play chapter 8 then you need to cut either paralogue 1 or 3.  Paralogue 1 is a smaller map so will be more likely to give you a 2 turn clear over paralogue 3′s 2-3 turn clear, but paralogue 3 gives you a store with access to javelins and hand axes, two weapons that are very nice to have. 

Step 3: Build an Army.  Trust Armsthrift.   Now its time to prepare your team.  The maximum number of units youll need to field in any of these battles is 9.  If you go under 9 youll need to waste time in battle prep deselecting units, and we dont want that, so getting to 9 units is important.  To eventually get to a point where you never need to buy items for your units youll want armsthrift on your whole team.  Unfortunately theres a few hurdles to jump to make this happen since we only are at chapter 7/8.  First, we dont have our full team to pull from and second we cant buy second seals.  Naturally we will need to get as many spotpass units with armsthrift as we can, but only 5 come with armsthrift: Malice, Linus, Ike, Roy, and Ogma.  This means youll need 4 second seals to get a full armsthrift team.  Robin, Cordelia, Donnel, and spotpass characters can reclass to mercenary this way.  You will have one second seal from renown rewards meaning you need 3 more from anna shops (or only one if you choose to do chapter 8 and get Gregor and another second seal.)  Chrom is a good temporary member while you train up your team since he has an unbreakable weapon, but sadly its only 1-range which is not going to cut it since enemies will always attack him at 2 range making battles last at least 1 turn longer than they would otherwise.  As for the actual training, do Yore 3 over and over to collect all skills plus 2 for everyone and gain levels to be better prepared for Bloodlines 2 and 3 which are a bit tougher but also get better rewards (and youll be doing Bloodlines 2 a hell of a lot to get all the dread scrolls youll need to reset levels until everyone has max luck.)  Bear in mind you will need limit break to go over 50 luck, but just capping it normally or even just pushing it into the 40s then giving all your dread fighters and brides a full inventory of hand axes or javelins will make it so that your stops at the armory are few and very far between.

(optional step: if you have golden gaffe then once your units are decently strong run it 5-10 times and then never think about money again)

Step 4: Setting up the grind.  By now you are ready to fire up a couple of rounds of proper spotpass grinding.  You might want to wait until you have a full team of limit broken armsthrifters but I recommend waiting a bit, I will explain why in a sec.  So I will now give the rundown on the actual grinding that will probably become auto-pilot like for you before too long.  Open the wireless menu, go to bonus box and bonus teams and summon 10.  If your team isnt maxed out then I say pull the first 5 from one game and the first 5 from another, just to be sure you wont run into anything that kills you.  You are on casual, so its not normally a big deal if a unit dies in this process, but if its Chrom or Robin its a game over, and even if its not thats stopping for a text box which slows you down.  I recommend the shadow dragon and binding blade teams because there are no cleric/troubadour team leaders who slow things down by not killing themselves on your units and theres no armor knight leaders (and few armor knight other units) who sometimes add turns by not making it to your units as quickly in the bigger maps.  Dont save after every battle, it adds like 3 seconds each time, just do it after every cycle (10 battles).  If your units are over the 50 luck line give them their best weapons and let them go to town.  If they are under 50 then give them a full set of hand axes for dread fighters and javelins for brides and they will last dozens of cycles before you need to restock their inventory. If you are still using Chrom and/or another non armsthrift unit then make sure they are at the 9th slot on your team so they dont go into most fights.  Then just turn off and skip all animations and phases and set auto battle to blitz and auto battle every turn, forever.

Step 5:

Step 6: Break up the Monotony. This is the crux of the Miester Method.  Summoning a full set of 10 spotpass units and killing them with a very strong team will take ~8 minutes and net you 500 renown.  From 0 renown thats closing in on 24 hours of still very repetitive grinding (now you see why I recommend you grind supports first, if you can get close to 50k renown before beginning actual renown grinding youve cut that time in half).  Some people might not find level grinding to be a sufficient break in the monotony but for me leveling up in awakening, especially if your units have Paragon, is very fast and fun and rewarding.  I might even go so far as to say that building super units is the most fun part of Awakening’s gameplay.  So what I recommend is every 15 minutes or so (2 cycles of 10 spotbass battles roughly) head back to dlc land and power up somebody.  Get another dread scroll to reset the level of someone with a lot more stats to cap then run them through Bloodlines 3 solo to gain like 20 levels in 5 minutes.  Then pop back to the world map and do another cycle of spotpass renown grinding.  When enough of your units are close to max stats try and start taking on Rogues and Redeemers 3 to get limit break for everyone and start getting luck to 50.  Once they are at 50 luck you can throw your ultimate bonus box weapons like book of naga and mjolnir on them and they will never break and you wont need to mess with their inventory ever again.  Try to be going back and forth this whole time too: do a few spotpass cycles, then grab a limit break skill, back and forth.  Once everyone has limit break on them go for capping every single stat on every unit.  This will take a while because some of them really dont want to get points of magic and/or resistance.  So back and forth now between cycles of spotpass and getting more dread scrolls and resetting levels to try to get that res.  Everytime one of my units maxed all stats I gave them a forged weapon to celebrate.  I ran out of characters to cap before I finished renown grinding so I then broke up my cycles running Infinite Regalia to try and get a ragnell for Ike and a second Gradivus for my second Bride.  By the time that was done, I had less than 20k renown to go, and so I was ready to buckle down and sprint to the finish line.  That last 20k wasnt even all that bad because I felt like only now was I really in a total grind, breaking up the monotony for the majority of the experience really helped make it more fun for me. Hopefully it makes it easier for you too!

Step 7: !!!VERY IMPORTANT!!! Once you finish Renown grinding you need to beat the game on that save file or it wont carry over on new files!!!! So do that. It will be....very easy.

I dont expect it will take more than an hour. 

Once its over, congratulations! You are now W o r l d  R e n o w n!

[dzamie]

Fuckton of OC questions: Dream

Questions from @liaraliara‘s post here. Doing these for Dream, will do more for other characters eventually, whether y’all want me to or not.

Dream’s kind of a questionable character for me, because I kiiiinda stole her from another person when my imagination met a neat character in a Spyro fanfiction. I still feel guilty for taking and warping her, which is part of why everyone refers to her with her shortened name. If I hadn’t been using her for over half a decade now, I’d change her name probably to Dreamstalker, but... I’m very used to it now.

1. What’s their full name? Why was that chosen? Does it mean anything? Her full name is Mistress Dreamnorn. “Mistress” is her legal first name, though only she knows why. It’s... pretty obvious why pretty much everyone calls her Dream.

2. Do they have any titles? How did they get them? None that have been confirmed real.

3. Did they have a good childhood? What are fond memories they have of it? What’s a bad memory?  She’s very secretive about her past. Assumedly, she has several bad memories involving Holy Water, and fond memories of gardening.

4. What is their relationship with their parents? What’s a good and bad memory with them? Did they know both parents?  [data unknown]

5. Do they have any siblings? What’s their names? What is their relationship with them? Has their relationship changed since they were kids to adults? [data unknown]

6. What were they like at school? Did they enjoy it? Did they finish? What level of higher education did they reach? What subjects did they enjoy? Which did they hate? [data unknown] Though she’s a natural at ballistic mechanics, and has often times claimed to have various degrees in Physics.

7. Did they have lots of friends as a child? Did they keep any of their childhood friends into adulthood?  [data unknown]

8. Did they have pets as a child? Do they have pets as an adult? Do they like animals?  She keeps her childhood secret. She jokes that Kenneth’s her pet. She likes watching some animals, though usually gets quickly angry around bears.

9. Do animals like them? Do they get on well with animals?  Animals tend to fear her, although she’s nothing but gentle with them.

10. Do they like children? Do children like them? Do they have or want any children? What would they be like as a parent? Or as a godparent/babysitter/ect? She tries to stay away from kids for liability purposes.

11. Do they have any special diet requirements? Are they a vegetarian? Vegan? Have any allergies? As a dragon, she’s a carnivore, though she does tend a crop of carrots. For unexplained reasons, these carrots are blue. And explosive. She’s not allergic, per se, but she claims she has a nasty reaction to Christian icons, such as crosses, holy water, and churches. Nuns burst into flames around her.

12. What is their favourite food?  Steak, medium rare, side of fries.

13. What is their least favourite food? Eucharist. She’s never been seen eating it, so nobody’s entirely sure if this is a joke.

14. Do they have any specific memories of food/a restaurant/meal? Not really. 

15. Are they good at cooking? Do they enjoy it? What do others think of their cooking? So long as she keeps her carrots out of the kitchen, she’s pretty good at cooking. She does cook with them, and they have... side effects.

16. Do they collect anything? What do they do with it? Where do they keep it? She collects firearms and sex toys. Should be pretty obvious what she does with them. The guns are kept behind a variety of traps and other hazards, like most dragons’ hoards. The sex toys are in a “locked” drawer, though the lock is nonfunctional.

17. Do they like to take photos? What do they like to take photos of? Selfies? What do they do with their photos? She takes what Dzamie and HM would call “blackmail photos,” but she just uses them to tease the subject.

18. What’s their favourite genre of: books, music, tv shows, films, video games and anything else She likes adventure novels, especially with nonhuman protagonists. Not much a fan of other media.

19. What’s their least favourite genres? Historical nonfiction.

20. Do they like musicals? Music in general? What do they do when they’re favourite song comes? Not particularly. She sometimes hums along if a classical piece she likes comes on.

21. Do they have a temper? Are they patient? What are they like when they do lose their temper? Dream doesn’t get angry. She gets revenge.

22. What are their favourite insults to use? What do they insult people for? Or do they prefer to bitch behind someone’s back? She’ll just call them various animals, either in Draconic if she’s speaking Common, or Common if she’s speaking Draconic. Usually pretty harmless animals, though.

23. Do they have a good memory? Short term or long term? Are they good with names? Or faces? She’s not too good with names if she doesn’t expect to see them often, but she doesn’t forget a face. Not the best at short-term memory.

24. What is their sleeping pattern like? Do they snore? What do they like to sleep on? A soft or hard mattress? Diurnal, though tends to laze around more in the summer. She doesn’t snore, though she does drool a bit. She prefers to sleep on Dzamie, HM, Kenneth, and any acid-proof mattress, in that order. For personal safety reasons, HM and Kenneth would rather she sleep next to them rather than on them.

25. What do they find funny? Do they have a good sense of humour? Are they funny themselves? She likes lolrandumb style stuff. Not quite “t3h p3nguin of d00m” level, but YTPs and gmod videos are a favorite.

26. How do they act when they’re happy? Do they sing? Dance? Hum? Or do they hide their emotions? The tip of her tail flicks back and forth, and she tends to... bounce. In her seat or on her feet.

27. What makes them sad? Do they cry regularly? Do they cry openly or hide it? What are they like they are sad? Losing something from either hoard, or a tragic fate happening to someone she cares about - including her favorite characters from a beloved series. She sometimes cries when sad, and others tend to be quick to comfort her, either out of sympathy or just to stop the flow of highly-corrosive tears.

28. What is their biggest fear? What in general scares them? How do they act when they’re scared? Nobody knows. She can be startled, but her reaction is usually throwing an exploding carrot at whatever startled her.

29. What do they do when they find out someone else’s fear? Do they tease them? Or get very over protective? She mentally files it away in case she wants to exploit it later, but in the immediate moment tries to stop them from being scared, either by removing the source of fear or distracting/comforting them

30. Do they exercise? Regularly? Or only when forced? What do they act like pre-work out and post-work out? Twice a week, generally. Usually more stretching than most would do. Pre-workout she tends to be peppy, post-workout she’s either pumped up for some other activity or flopping on the couch and asking Dzamie for a massage.

31. Do they drink? What are they like drunk? What are they like hungover? How do they act when other people are drunk or hungover? Kind or teasing? She doesn’t really drink. Incredibly high alcohol tolerance, and it’s just not worth the cost for her to even get buzzed.

32. What do they dress like? What sorta shops do they buy clothes from? Do they wear the fashion that they like? What do they wear to sleep? Do they wear makeup? What’s their hair like? Around friends, she goes around in just her scales - comfier, and less chance of accidentally corroding a hole into clothes she likes. In public, she tends to wear shirts (tee or button-down) and short skirts or pants, depending on weather. She also has a bunch of cloaks and blankets for when it gets really cold. Her hair is straight and brown, and she usually wears it down, but puts it in a ponytail for physical activities.

33. What underwear do they wear? Boxers or briefs? Lacey? Comfy granny panties? Lacy panties. If she’s wearing some, there’s usually a rather specific and obvious reason.

34. What is their body type? How tall are they? Do they like their body? She’s a bipedal dragoness, around 5′6″ including her horns. Pretty muscular, but not very visibly so. Dream has limited shapeshifting ability, and tends to use it to mess with the size of her wings and tail. She’s comfortable in her body.

35. What’s their guilty pleasure? What is their totally unguilty pleasure? Tactical games. She thinks it clashes with her lewd, dominating gunslinger sort of thing, so she rarely indulges herself, but she’s beaten several Fire Emblem games, Advance Wars, X-COM, and a lot of Wesnoth maps. Dzamie and HM sometimes face off in Chess, Risk, or similar games, but Dream prefers not to play with them - she likes to mess with her opponents, and they concentrate more on the game and less on her cute dragony wiles. As for unguilty pleasure... there’s a reason she’s so good at rope tying and accuracy with a whip.

36. What are they good at? What hobbies do they like? Can they sing? She’s an excellent markswoman, a talented gardener, and is superb at all sorts of knot-tying. Plenty of other things, too, but those are the most frequent 3. She likes gardening, and sometimes idly fiddles with a couple short lengths of rope. She has a nice speaking voice, but isn’t very good at holding a tune.

37. Do they like to read? Are they a fast or slow reader? Do they like poetry? Fictional or non fiction? Yes, she tears through adventure series. She sometimes enjoys poetry, but doesn’t go out of her way to find it. Nonfiction is a decent sleep aid for her.

38. What do they admire in others? What talents do they wish they had? She admires confidence and stamina, and wishes she had more self-control at times.

39. Do they like letters? Or prefer emails/messaging? Email. She’d probably like sending texts, but doesn’t usually have pockets.

40. Do they like energy drinks? Coffee? Sugary food? Or can they naturally stay awake and alert? Giving Dream energy drinks or caffeine is a subtle way of saying “I don’t really care how much of this building is left standing in an hour.”

41. What’s their sexuality? What do they find attractive? Physically and mentally? What do they like/need in a relationship? Bi and promiscuous. She finds lean builds and happy personalities attractive, and gravitates towards partners she thinks would enjoy a submissive role. Likes partners who are just friends outside of physical things, and needs them to be able to cheat exhaustion or escape her on the brink of such. Well, for their sake.

42. What are their goals? What would they sacrifice anything for? What is their secret ambition? She’s pretty content, actually. Wishes she could do bdsm things with Dzamie, but he’s very clear that it unnerves him, so she doesn’t. Secret ambition is to design a gun that fires guns that fires guns.

43. Are they religious? What do they think of religion? What do they think of religious people? What do they think of non religious people? ...nuns literally burst into flame around her. Other religions have a much lesser effect on her and vice versa.

44. What is their favourite season? Type of weather? Are they good in the cold or the heat? What weather do they complain in the most? Spring. Weather starts to warm up, just about time to plant her weird carrots, she tends to have a weaker heat cycle then, and the trees stop being so depressingly bare.

45. How do other people see them? Is it similar to how they see themselves? Most people think her lewdness is almost her entire personality, and that she isn’t able to defend herself. She disagrees strongly with the first, and will readily correct people about the second.

46. Do they make a good first impression? Does their first impression reflect them accurately? How do they introduce themselves? Not really, especially since she usually mentions her full name (and her nickname. She’s not stupid.) when introducing herself.

47. How do they act in a formal occasion? What do they think of black tie wear? Do they enjoy fancy parties and love to chit chat or loathe the whole event? She’s not used to them, and tries to avoid being noticed if she has to go to one.

48. Do they enjoy any parties? If so what kind? Do they organise the party or just turn up? How do they act? What if they didn’t want to go but were dragged along by a friend? She finds parties fun, at least the types HM hosts. Tends to be pretty outgoing at them. Once went to a “reunion” type thing at the local dragonslayer’s guild as Dzamie’s plus-one. Kind of awkward until she figured out that “kill all dragons” isn’t really the guild’s motto or mindset, and ended up amusing herself and Dzamie by winning a game of strip poker despite wearing a dress and nothing else.

49. What is their most valued object? Are they sentimental? Is there something they have to take everywhere with them? Her rocket launcher, custom-made to be able to fire her blue carrots. She takes it everywhere, and uses a basic Storage spell when she can’t physically have it for some reason or another.

50. If they could only take one bag of stuff somewhere with them: what would they pack? What do they consider their essentials? I’m never gonna figure out a good answer for any of my characters. Dream would probably take a bedroll, a tinderbox, her crossbow (plus some bolts), and a bunch of blue carrot seeds. And, of course, her rocket launcher. It’s surprisingly portable.