#they are so beautiful but grow so close and are such an emblem of the smoky & appalachian mountains

[windandwater]

And the flowers I knew, In the fields where I grew, Were content to be lost in the crowd. They were common and close, I had no room for growth, And I wanted so much to branch out.

--Dolly Parton, Linda Rondstadt, Emmylou Harris, “Wildflowers”

(x) (do not remove caption or source)

[mystictf]

A Night To Remember

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

2893 words.

In the heart of Brooklyn during the early 1940s, the world was caught in a tumultuous dance, as nations clashed and destinies were forged in the fires of conflict. Yet, even in such times, life managed to etch out moments of beauty, gentleness, and a burgeoning love. For James Buchanan Barnes - known to his friends as Bucky - and his close friend, you, this story began under the warm, flickering lights of a Brooklyn evening before shadows would lengthen into war.

Bucky Barnes, with his easy smile and affable nature, was the emblem of youthful vigour, a neighbourhood favourite who seemed to carry the sunlight with him. You, on the other hand, were the kind of person whose quiet strength and perceptive eyes often went unnoticed at first, but once seen, left an indelible impression. You and Bucky had known each other for years, your paths crossing in that comfortable rhythm of familiar companionship. But tonight was different - it was a night set apart. The evening began in the hustle and bustle of the Brooklyn streets, just as the shops were dimming their lights and the hum of daily life gave way to the sounds of laughter and music spilling out from neighbourhood doors. Bucky arrived at your modest apartment, a spring of wildflowers clasped in his hand, excitement dancing in his eyes. “You’re a sight for sore eyes, Bucky Barnes,” you teased, your eyes shimmering as they met his at the threshold. You had dressed with extra care - perhaps a little self-consciously - choosing a dress that was both modest and flattering, its fabric catching the warm light in a way that enhanced your natural grace. “I could say the same to you,” Bucky grinned, offering the small bouquet with a slightly theatrical bow. “For you, milady.”

You walked together, arms brushing now and then, to a nearby diner. The promise of warmth and good company made your steps light. Seated across from each other in a vinyl booth, you talked with ease as the world outside slowly gave itself over to the evening. Across the table, Bucky leaned in slightly, his voice becoming more earnest. “I’ve been thinking,” he began, “once… once I ship out, I won’t have this. The easy nights, the laughter, the…” He seemed to search for the right words, glancing at you with a vulnerability that was rare to see from him, someone usually so composed. “The people who matter.” You swallowed, your heart catching on the implications of his words. “Bucky, you’ll come back,” you said quietly, but with conviction. “You’ll come back, and we’ll make sure to create a thousand nights like this.” He looked at you intently, his expression softening, “I’d like that.”

With your meal completed, the two of you made your way to the dance hall, the sounds of a live band greeting you as you approached. The hall was alive with people shedding the day’s concerns in favour of song and rhythm - an echo of the relentless hope that pulsed through the city, no matter the storm on the horizon. The band was in full swing, and couples whirled around you both in a joyful blur. Bucky held out his hand, his blue eyes holding a question and a promise. “Dance with me?” You nodded, smiling, placing your hand in his. You both joined the throng on the polished wooden floor, the music washing over you like a buoyant wave. Bucky was a natural dancer, his movements sure and graceful, and together, you found an easy rhythm, an unspoken language. The world faded, leaving only the music and the two of you. Bucky spun you around, your laughter bright and clear as the two of you lost yourselves in the dance. Each step, each turn, became an affirmation of the unspoken bond growing between you - a fragile, beautiful thing nurtured in stolen moments. As the band struck up a slower tune, Bucky drew you closer, your movements slowing into something more intimate. You rested your head against his shoulder, closing your eyes and allowing yourself to savour the nearness, the warmth of him. “Tell me something,” you breathed, your voice barely carrying over the song. “Something you’ll miss the most.” Bucky was quiet for a moment, as if considering the weight of your present amidst the uncertainty of the future. “This,” he finally said, his voice carrying a subtle, wistful undertone, “dancing with you.” Your heart skipped, warmth blooming in your chest, and you tightened your hold slightly. “When you’re back,” you murmured, “promise me another dance? And maybe a thousand more after.” Bucky pulled back slightly, meeting your eyes with a sincerity that made your heart ache. “I promise.” His words were a gentle vow, a tether to your future. The music faded into the background, less of a presence than a feeling, a texture running through the space around you and binding the two of you together in that moment. As the band played on, time seemed to stretch and condense, suspending you both in a world of your own. The others around you blurred into insignificance, leaving you and Bucky in the centre of a vast, pulsating universe composed solely of shared hopes and unspoken dreams.

Eventually, the music slowed, coming to a close with the gentle hum of the band. Reluctantly, you stepped apart, but something ineffable lingered between you both - a promise of more than just another dance. Outside the dance hall, the evening air was cool against your flushed cheeks, and the stars above twinkled as silent witnesses to your budding romance. Bucky, with his arm companionably around your shoulders, guided you along the sidewalk, neither one of you eager to end the night. “Bucky,” you began softly, your voice a delicate thread against the backdrop of distant city sounds. “I want you to know how much tonight meant to me.” You paused, looking up at him, searching his face as if to imprint the memory into your mind. “It meant the world to me too, Y/N,” he replied, sincerity woven through every word. “You mean the world to me.” You both continued to walk, your hearts buoyed by the evening’s perfect simplicity. Bucky’s thoughts were a mixture of anticipation and a whisper of fear for what was to come. The war was a daunting spectre on the horizon, a reality set to reshape both of your lives - and yet, nestled within it was this single night of joy that spurred him forward.

As you reached your doorstep, the streetlamp above casting a gentle glow around you both, Bucky took a step closer, gathering his courage in the face of the uncertain future. “I won’t say goodbye,” he murmured, his hand reaching out to gently tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear. “Only ’see you soon’. And I’ll be counting every day till I’m back.” You nodded, your voice steady even as emotion thickened it. “I’ll be waiting and writing letters even if I know you might not get them right away. When you’re far away, read them and remember that there’s someone here thinking about you.” Bucky smiled at that, the notion easing something tense within him. He leaned in then, pressed a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead - an unspoken vow, with the night air as your witness, before drawing back. “I promise I’ll come back,” he said, a determined edge threading through his words. “We’ll have that dance, and many more.” You nodded, offering him a smile filled with all the conviction and hope you could muster. “I’ll hold you to that promise, James Buchanan Barnes.” With one last lingering look, Bucky turned to leave, each step carrying him closer to the departure that awaited. But he left behind something no war could take away - the beginning of something precious, nurtured in the quiet spaces of dance and laughter. 

In the days that followed, as Bucky prepared to ship out, you both held onto the memory of your night together as a keepsake against what was to come. And while the world around you both seemed poised on the brink of irrevocable change, your hearts held firm with the knowledge that love, first kindled in the simplest of evenings and sealed with a dance, was both your anchor and your guiding light home. When the world felt a little less bright, you would turn to those memories, letting the warmth and hope carry you through. And as the echoes of music played in your mind, you knew with certainty as deep as the endless sky that one day, Bucky would return to dance with you once more under the starlit Brooklyn skies. 

The roar of engines filled Bucky’s ears as the transport plane shook with turbulence, flying high above a land so foreign and yet so beautiful under the sweeping vistas of a European sky. This was far from the Brooklyn streets he knew like the back of his hand - a world away from the warmth of home and lingering embrace of you as you shared that bittersweet farewell. Days blurred into weeks, and weeks blurred into months. War had a way of compressing time into a relentless cycle of missions and manoeuvres. Yet, amidst the chaos of conflict and the camaraderie shared with his fellow soldiers, Bucky found solace in the memories of that one perfect night.

When the sky exploded with artillery and the ground trembled under the weight of battle, Bucky closed his eyes for a heartbeat and let the rhythm of a remembered dance guide him through. In quiet moments, when the world seemed impossibly vast and the horizon insurmountable, he would pull your letters from his jacket pocket, smoothing the well-worn paper to read your words by firelight or the flickering beam of a flashlight. Each letter was a lifeline, with words of everyday musings, hopeful reflections, and steadfast affection, giving him strength. He pictured you writing them, your face illuminated by lamplight, and imagined the melody in your voice as you crafted each sentence - a symphony of warmth that accompanied him in the trenches. One night, beneath a canopy of stars that looked remarkably like those above Brooklyn, Bucky lay in his bunk, surrounded by the soft snores of sleeping men. With a letter unfolded in his hands, he traced your handwriting with the tip of his finger. Your latest had told stories of things big and small - the neighbourhood's resilience, your own pursuits, and little notes on the nights you’d spent dancing alone, awaiting his return. He smiled faintly, the edges of his worries dulling with each word. You spoke of a new dance that you had learned, your descriptions vivid enough that he could almost see you twirling around the small space of your living room. “Save that one for me,” he whispered to the empty air, a promise as steady and sure as when you’d last met. “You’ll have to teach me first.”

The duty to return, to keep the promise he made, weighed heavily but encouragingly on his shoulders. It fueled his resolve with each mission, each long march through foreign fields, and each night spent under the open sky. His determination, a silent vow kept alive by the memory of your touch, was more potent than the rationed meals or iron discipline keeping him on his feet. In moments of camaraderie with his fellow soldiers, when quiet confessions were exchanged around impromptu fires, Bucky would speak of you - your last dance, your letters, your plans for the future. His stories painted a tapestry of life beyond the battlefield, a beacon that drew others in with tales of love and hope. And so, as the months wore on and the seasons changed, Bucky moved through the war with a heart anchored by the promise of returning home. Your letters continued to be his guiding star, the constant reminder of all he fought for - the life that you would build together once the world righted itself once more. 

War tested every limit of endurance yet inspired him with a newfound appreciation for life’s cherished moments. The memory of your laughter, the softness of your eyes meeting his, and the dance that played on in his mind with every step kept hope alive in the darkest hours. He knew, deep in his soul, that he had to make it back. For himself, for his brothers-in-arms, and most importantly, for you - the promise of a thousand dances waiting to unfold beneath the Brooklyn sky.

The train's rhythmic clatter over the tracks was a reassuring sound, one that seemed to resonate with the beating of Bucky’s own heart. As the city skyline of New York began to emerge on the horizon, he felt a mix of anticipation and nerves fusing together within him. This was it - the moment he had envisioned and longed for through the countless days and nights overseas. He stepped off the train into a bustling station, the sounds and smells reminding him of all that he had missed: the vibrant hum of life, the familiarity of the everyday lives being lived around him. There was an energy in the air, one that promised healing and new beginnings. Bucky shouldered his pack, its weight now lighter somehow, and made his way through the crowded streets. He wore his uniform, which drew nods of acknowledgement and met old acquaintances who shared similar war-drawn lines on their faces. Yet, despite the shared experiences, all he could focus on was the thought of seeing you again. 

Brooklyn unfolded around him, every corner infused with memory. It was the same yet different - a city that had held its ground as the world changed. Finally, he arrived on your street, flanked by familiar row houses and the leafy trees he remembered so well. With each step, the air felt thicker, charged with emotion. As he approached your building, he paused, taking a moment to steady himself, inhaling deeply. He rolled his shoulders back, smoothing his hair with a hand that trembled slightly. This was a homecoming long overdue - not just to his hometown but to the person who had anchored him through every storm. He knocked, the sound echoing loudly in the quiet evening. Moments stretched infinitely, each second weighted with the anticipation of reconnection. Then, the door opened, and there you were - standing before him, more beautiful than even his most cherished memory. 

For a heartbeat, you both simply looked at one another, absorbing years in the space of a glance. Then, you stepped forward, and before Bucky could even speak, you pulled him into a tight embrace. “Bucky,” you murmured, your voice thick with emotion. He closed his eyes, wrapping his arms around you, the feeling of you more comforting than anything he had imagined. “Y/N,” he replied softly, pulling back slightly to look at you, his eyes sweeping over your features as if imprinting them anew. “I promised I’d come back.” You smiled, that same brilliant smile that had illuminated countless nights for him. “And I knew you would.” You both stood there on the threshold, a connection both delicate and strong knitting you both back together. The unvoiced promise of your shared letters and dreams seemed to hum in the space around you.

Inside, familiar comforts surrounded you both. The apartment was filled with subtle changes and little touches that spoke of your life while he had been gone. You sat together, sharing stories and laughter, filling in the gaps time had etched with renewed warmth and understanding. As the evening wore on, Bucky’s gaze fell on the phonograph in the corner. He smiled, a memory sparking to life. “Remember that dance you promised to teach me?” Your eyes sparkled with mischief and affection. “I hope you’re ready to learn, Buck.” You stood, offering him your hand, which he took with a surness that had grown from your shared past. With gentle elegance, you placed the needle on the record. The room filled with music, and you led him in a dance like no other - you were in sync, moving effortlessly together, the rest of the world fading into insignificance. Bucky followed your lead at first, stepping carefully until the rhythm became part of him, allowing himself to be carried by the moment. You danced through the room, and it was as if every letter, every hope, and every dream that you both shared was manifesting here, now. He twirled you around, your laughter bright and freeing, and in that dance, the weight of distant battlefields began to fall away. Here, with you, he found his peace, his heart beating in time with the pulse of the city outside, resonating with the promise of a future that you would both build together. 

Under the dimmed glow of the room, your movements eventually slowed until Bucky found himself holding you close, allowing the moment to seep into his very bones. Whatever lay ahead, he knew was the beginning - a continuation of the dance that had started long ago beneath a different sky, renewed with hope and the unbreakable bond that you shared. “Here’s to a thousand dances,” Bucky whispered softly, sealing the vow with another promise that would lead you both into your shared tomorrow. And in that quiet embrace, you both found closure and beginning, inextricably interwoven in the warmth of Brooklyn’s gentle night.

[partycatty]

Hear me out bi han with a figure skating reader?..

YAS i actually have two other requests for the same thing! u guys r so cute i love ur lil ideas :))

bi-han > foolish

how it goes when you're an elegant skater and he's a stoic ninja!

warnings: u almost die, controversial bi-han character writing?

notes: this reads like a barbie movie it's a little corny, also i imagine his frost/ice shoots out like elsa LMFAO like all beautiful n shit when he's not trying to spear someone w an icicle

masterlist <3

•when i say bi-han is absolutely horrible at verbalizing his romantic thoughts, i promise with my entire being that i mean it.

•so it comes to nobody's surprise when all bi-han can do is watch you as you glide across the ice like a gorgeous fairy, eyes closed and completely encapsulated in the movement. he was supposed to be scouring the land for raiden and kung lao to confirm their whereabouts, but he stopped when he heard your pretty humming and scraping of ice. all he could do was stand atop a roof and observe you quietly, suddenly feeling a little warm, which was completely out of character for the cryomancer.

•your skates were handmade and your movements weren't professional. you learned through VHS tapes and magazines growing up, and you wanted nothing more than to leave fengjian and make it big in the olympics.

•each time he returns to fengjian to spy on the farmers and report back to liu kang, he's sure to stray from the path when nobody is looking, and checks on the frozen pond to see if you're skating. something about it entrances him. perhaps it's because he uses his ice for dominance and strength, while you submit your entire life to the deadly pond in such a beautiful display of grace.

•it takes him several visits to actually approach you, and it was entirely unintentional. you had actually fallen into a thin patch of ice, your leg trapped in a jagged part and effectively sucking your leg into the freezing water. he leapt from the rooftop and revealed himself to you. while he may not be the best at encouraging words, he's great at barking commands. so, in his all-ice-knowing voice, he tells you how to save yourself step by step, since you seemed entirely clueless about this incredibly important survival skill.

•your nerves got the better of you as you cry out and squirm, and the ice cracked even more. bi-han let out a growl of frustration with the situation before stomping across the ice to you. you wanted to shout out and tell him to stand back or he'd make it worse, but the words get caught in your throat when, with each step, his footsteps spawned large swirling waves of frosty ice, effectively repairing the cracks around you.

•bi-han doesn't outstretch an arm, he just stands menacingly - and silently - over you as you whimper in pain. saving yourself, you use his thick arm as leverage and hoist yourself out of the water, and he barely flinches at your soggy weight.

•"you... you did that," you say incredulously and out of breath, pointing at the intricate patterns along the ice top. bi-han's eyes follow your point and he exhales before turning back to you. "with the ice... how?"

•"you were foolish," he replies coldly, though you sense a morbidly caring tone in his voice. "stay near the shore. you'll lose that leg if you're not careful. no more skating then."

•your hand is on his chest as you regain your balance, and your eyes fall to the emblem on his uniform.

•"how did you know i was skating?" you ask, with a smirk teasing your lips. bi-han tenses up at your question, looking away momentarily. he would literally rather die than admit he was staring at you, and you sense that, so you move back to the emblem.

•"you are in a clan," you mutter, reaching to trace it. "what are ninjas doing in fengjian?"

•instinctively, he snatches up your wrist and holds it in the air, warning you silently not to touch it. but even so, bi-han's lips part for a moment, his eagerness to speak to you overtaking his stoicism. he covers his mouth and furrows his brows. something about your gentleness, your kindness, causes him to desire to match it. your sweet eyes looking into his, you tilt your head and he nearly collapses.

•he decides not to answer your question, and you assume whatever it is is a private matter. perhaps the whispers in madam bo's restaurant might offer an explanation later.

•"well... thank you," you thank him gently, with your arm still in his grip. it's evident that... he doesn't scare you. in fact, you're fascinated by this man. everyone knows everyone, so who could this big yummy scoop of ice cream be??

•"don't thank me yet," he replies, eyes looking down at the ice and back to the shore. "with me. come."

•you do an awkward combination of skating and walking beside bi-han as he leads you back to the snowy shore. his hand rests on your back, full palm taking up a great amount of space on your back. you shudder at the thought.

•"may i thank you now?" you ask with gentle playfulness, smiling up at the ninja before bowing out of respect. "you saved my life, sir. the least you can do is tell me your name."

•"bi-han," he finally replies, his lips in a firm line. "don't make me save you again. be smart. be vigilant."

•his lecture halts when he hears his brothers call for his name in the echoey distance. he shares one last glance with you before walking off into the village alleys, and you're utterly dumbfounded. did that actually happen, or was that a weird hypothermic hallucination? do those even happen?

•before the lin kuei end their exploration of your village, bi-han decides to leave one last lesson for you at your doorstep. how he even knew where you lived baffled you. but, the uneasiness went away when you opened the hastily put together box, and see a brand new pair of ice skates, the blades frosted with the same beautiful pattern you saw on the ice that day.

•never again did you get near the thin points of the icy pond. and, every winter after that, you can't help but feel a pair of eyes on you in the distance as you improve your flips and pivots using your gorgeous skates. and you're pretty sure the lin kuei's business in the village ended quite some time ago...

[badass-queer-couples-battle]

Sword gays showdown preliminaries

Propaganda:

For Sora:

the keyblade is probably on thin ice but it IS *used* like a sword so... it's close enough probably? anyways soriku are very gay and in love with each other. like the whole series is about them and their relationship. there's a six-hour video essay on why riku is gay (for sora) and about how that's the whole theme of the series

For Petra:

Petra is good at all bladed weapons, but especially swords!! She's a Princess of Brigid, a foreign nation colonized by the fathers of her classmates and she attends school as a political hostage. She's determined to grow strong and become one of the best swordsmen out there in order to lead her country and negotiate for her people's freedom! She's also got this wonderful romance with a orphan-turned-songstress where they so undying live each other and pledge to see their future together...it's beautiful. She's also just so talented and hard-working. 

[elluia]

My 2023 fanfic recs [1/5]

This is a multi-part series, with a countdown to the New Year!

Navigation

The best of Ike x Soren fanfics YOU ARE HERE

The best of Fire Emblem fanfics (Genealogy, Three Houses, Engage, Heroes)

The best of misc. series (Omori, Long Live The Queen, Stardew Valley)

The Spicy™ best-of (bonk)

My 2023 works recap (Fódlan and Tellius)

Let’s start with the best of Ike x Soren fanfics! To everyone’s surprise, FE blessed us with a lot of Soren content this year (an alt in January in Heroes, a DLC Emblem in Engage, and we finally won CYL!), and I am SO PROUD of the fandom for all the beautiful fanworks and projects I’ve seen come of it 💙 (I’ve finally received my copy of The Devoted zine 🥰)

A long list below the cut (with links!), and that's far from everything ✨ My eternal respect and gratitude to all the creators who made my year 💖

📚 Fanfics

Daylight by Traincat

This is peak shipping. Their entire journey, told through meals as they grow closer. 10/10, would cry again.

Prince of Shadowed Winds by Theia_Eos

An absolutely incredible Prince of Daein!Soren AU. Amazing use of the lore, perfect understanding of the characters, and still very close and respectful of canon. I can’t wait for the retelling of Radiant Dawn! (I’ll admit, I can’t bring myself to read the last two chapters and “end” for now T_T)

Radiance in Elyos by Azure_Aeraki

Incredible plot and storytelling from Emblem Soren’s perspective, and his hope to meet the Emblem Ike of the world he suddenly found himself in. And incredibly engaging story, get it?

Birdhouse in Your Soul by Aisene

The first fanfic I read in this fandom was from Aisene, is it really a surprise that I love her latest work? In this story, Bird!Yune follows Soren instead of Micaiah, and their bond is both hilarious and heartwarming at once.

Flowers Fall by Measured

Happy ending Hanahaki disease in 2023? Yes, please!

My life for yours by emblem_oracle

Also one of my long-time favourite writers for this ship. Soren takes what could have been a mortal blow for Ike, and this leads to… read it and find out?

Lonely Nightmare by SuperDuperStarry

Add Ranulf for the most wholesome of relationships? Don’t let the title fool you, it ends up really sweet!

And the story's all over you by Toothpaste_Fresh

Last but not least, a short angsty fic, and I won’t spoil it for you.

🎬 Video

I had to. It's perfection.

📝 My contributions

I’ll count them here rather than the FE part of this recap, because the ship is very much implied, they’re just not together yet 😉

A Cutting Truth

In the long summer spent in Begnion, the newly formed Crimea Liberation Army hones its skill before marching on Daein. Among them, the staff officer of the Greil Mercenaries makes a baffling choice. To be promoted as sage, Soren picks up a knife.

A look into Soren’s psyche through the second half of Path of Radiance.

The Strong Survive

A (canon-compliant) retelling of PoR’s Endgame, where Mad King Ashnard touches the medallion, and recognizes Soren. And what better way to make up for lost time than a duel to the death? After all… Only one Daein royal may survive.

Stay tuned for the FE fic recs tomorrow!

[miirshroom]

Test for Echo, Freud, and Elden Ring (Shadow of the Erdtree)

Thinking about how not all examples of fantasy stories come from books or film, sometimes they are found in song. Thinking about the lyricism of Canadian Progressive Rock band Rush.

If it wasn't obvious - the Shadowlands is a Freudian nightmare. The surrealism of Salvadore Dali was heavily influenced by Freudian psychoanalysis and the cocoon of the empyrean is staged to resemble Dali's work Geopoliticus Child Watching the Birth of the New Man.

Recently released Armored Core VI: Fires of Rubicon directly has an AC pilot named "Freud" whose emblem is a hand emerging from shadow holding a key (AC unit called "Locksmith").

And as it turns out, Neil Peart - lyricist for Rush - also was drawing inspirations from Freud while writing songs for Test for Echo (1996).

"I've always been curious about all religions, and the Totem idea came from the Freud book 'Totem And Taboo', which I ran across at the Chalet studio where we were working just in the bookshelf in the living room. I had been kind of rediscovering Freud by way of Jung and getting to understand the really deep stuff he was dealing with as opposed to some of the pop psychology that we were fed growing up, and I thought Totem And Taboo was such a beautiful title because it's what we fear and what we worship. Totem being what we worship and Taboo being what we fear. What a beautiful, embracing metaphor. At one time, the song Resist was called 'Taboo' because I wanted to have the two little set pieces of what we fear, and in 'Totem' I was just trying to appropriate all religions because that's what I found looking around at different religions and different systems, is that they all have something good. So I thought why not have them all? The 'Buddha smile' is a nice thing, and I'd like to have 12 Apostles...it's all great. It was really just a kind of tongue and cheek, all the good things of different religions." Neil Peart, Jam! Showbiz, October 16, 1996

The lyrics to the songs can be found here: https://www.rush.com/albums/test-for-echo/

It's a fantasy that people of all religions and esoteric beliefs would get together to craft their perfect god to fear and worship. Fortunately, Elden Ring is a fantasy. From the song "Totem", how many of the faith systems here can you spot represented somewhere in the game?:

I’ve got twelve disciples and a Buddha smile The Garden of Allah – Viking Valhalla A miracle once in a while I’ve got a pantheon of animals in a pagan soul Vishnu and Gaia – Aztec and Maya Dance around my totem pole I believe in what I see I believe in what I hear I believe that what I’m feeling Changes how the world appears Angels and demons dancing in my head Lunatics and monsters underneath my bed Media messiahs preying on my fears Pop culture prophets playing in my ears I’ve got celestial mechanics To synchronize my stars Seasonal migrations – daily variations World of the unlikely and bizarre I’ve got idols and icons, unspoken holy vows Thoughts to keep well-hidden – sacred and forbidden Free to browse among the holy cows That’s why I believe Angels and demons inside of me Saviors and Satans all around me Sweet chariot, swing low, coming for me

And then there's Resist, which has some Miquellian themes:

I can learn to resist Anything but temptation I can learn to co-exist With anything but pain I can learn to compromise Anything but my desires I can learn to get along With all the things I can’t explain I can learn to resist Anything but frustration I can learn to persist With anything but aiming low I can learn to close my eyes To anything but injustice I can learn to get along With all the things I don’t know

But neither of these songs were the tip off for why I thought to look more closely at this album. It was the Crucible Knights and Bloodhound Knights. They've always had the odd quirk of being named for geological periods. That's a lyric from the song Dog Years:

I’d rather be a tortoise from Galapagos Or a span of geological time Than be living in these dog years

Ironic that the tortoises in Elden Ring have no text option allowing them to be labelled appropriately, so the community has decreed them "dog".

There are other songs from this album that I can see represented in Elden Ring. The title song Test for Echo is about how people yearn for connection, but what the mass media landscape delivers is sensationalism and acts of violence around the world. In 30 years this hasn't really improved. A picture of an inunnguaq was selected for the album cover from fascination for the way that the simple stone structure provides evidence of the existence of other humans having travelled before through a desolate landscape. And as I have mentioned before, Radagon's story has hints of Narcissus and Echo.

This is bookended by the final song on the album Carve Away the Stone. The song suggests that like the Greek Sisyphus, all people are eternally rolling their own stones up a hill in the form of emotional baggage or other trauma. But people aren't static like a character from a story - they don't need to carry that weight forever. If you have the opportunity to shape your own destiny, why not take it? This would be related to the way that both Marika and Radagon appear to be carved of stone.

There's also the largely instrumental song that is second to last on the album and titled Limbo. It's implied to be vampire themed by one of the few vocal cut-ins being in a goofy vampire voice ("Whatever happened to my Transylvania twist?"). So like, Messmer the Impaler in the limbo-coded Shadowlands. His allusions to vampirism firstly being an epithet invoking Vlad the Impaler and also he has only false/closed eyes so he can't self reflect (one of the superstitions of vampires being that their reflection won't show up in a mirror because the mirrors in those days were polished silver). The archetype of the vampire in the Shadow is Jungian stuff and like I said - Neil Peart was thinking about depth psychology while writing this album.

For the rest of the songs the potential connections are more vague ("Time and motion / Flesh and blood and fire / Lives connect in webs of gold and razor wire" - Time and Motion) ("Gravity and distance / Change the passage of light / Gravity and distance / Change the color of right" - The Color of Right).

This isn't the only Rush album that I find possibly to have had some influence on the Radagon/Miquella/Mohg portion of Elden Ring. There's also the album 2112 (1976) back in Rush's earlier fantasy/sci-fi era, which introduces the Priests of the Temples of Syrinx - a kind of thought police represented by a red star - and mentions twin moons being in the sky. It was Rush's breakthrough album in America, followed the next year by A Farewell to Kings (1977), for which the notable songs include A Farewell to Kings, Xanadu, and Closer to the Heart. Also the album cover shows a puppet king slumped on a throne in front of a crumbling building. But again like with Test for Echo, one could imagine how all songs on the album might be combined to create an overall sense of time period.

I'm not making a case for FromSoft promoting Freudian pseudopsychology, for the record. All this psychoanalysis stuff is in the Shadowlands and nobody in the Lands Between cares about what's in the Shadowlands. It's in the past, dead and buried. You can no more decide the course of the future by replicating the past than you can create a sustainable global economy by learning economics through playing Elden Ring.

[onyxedskies]

“I can’t stop thinking about you”

hehe

sorry about the delay i've been tired

also are you proud of me this isn't in a modern au

pairing: marth x m!alear

word count: 441

Marth was staring at him.

Alear was pretending not to notice–if nothing else, after all, he really did have to get through these financial reports at a semi-reasonable hour–but the longer it went on, the harder it was. Alear was tired, and he really just wanted to go into his emblem form and cuddle up with Marth, but Vander said that these needed to get done so he really wanted to at least try.

It wasn't working very well.

Alear was this close to giving up, and then Marth wrapped his arms around him. And, well, Alear was just a mortal. (Probably.)

"I can't stop thinking about you," Marth said, and Alear felt a blush crawl up his neck. "You're working too hard. Come to bed?"

"I have to finish this," Alear said, though the call of sleep was getting stronger by the minute and his protest sounded weak to his own ears.

"It will be there in the morning, darling," Marth said, voice dripping with affection. Alear melted a little bit, relaxing further into Marth's hold.

"You're a bad influence," Alear teased, but he tilted his head so he could press a kiss to Marth's jaw anyway. Marth's smile was so bright it nearly blinded him.

"You love it," Marth said.

"I do," Alear conceded. He then smiled. "Just like I love you."

That got a dusting of pink to crawl up Marth's cheeks, just as Alear had planned. Marth settled with burying his face in Alear's shoulder, and Alear laughed.

"I love your laugh," Marth murmured, still audible despite Alear's shoulder muffling him. Alear felt his blush grow.

He glanced at his work, sighing when the words kept swimming on the page. One look out the window told him it was some early hour of the morning.

The reports could wait one more day, Alear decided.

Wordlessly, Alear shifted into his emblem form. He didn't have to know that Marth was grinning; they could feel each other better, this way, feel the kisses and hugs and warmth generated by whatever plane of existence their bodies seemed to reside in.

Alear floated over to the bed, Marth trailing behind him (still clinging to him, of course). They got settled, facing each other, and Marth began to pepper Alear's face with kisses.

"I love you," he murmured. "My lovely, lovely little dragon. My beautiful darling. My love."

Alear's face burned with the compliments, and he leaned forward to bury his face into Marth's shoulder as he continued to spew them. Marth tightened his grip around him, and Alear smiled, closing his eyes.

Yeah. This was better than financial reports. Much better.

[missiletoe]

🚨it's that time of day again!! 🚨 fill #1 for the yuri shipping olympics bonus round 3 - flowers!!

Prompt: camellia - "my destiny is in your hands" Word Count: 1248

---------------------------------------------------------------------

“Please help me!” Kitty begs, hands clasped together. She knows what she must look like–dirt smudged on her robes and twigs tangled up in her hair. She’s a Category 5 on the hurricane scale but she’s desperate–beyond desperate. She passed desperation three hours ago when she transcended to a new level of being. “Professor Lee is going to fail me if I can’t find this stupid flower for this stupid spell and it’s due tomorrow and I’ve spent the whole afternoon searching the forest and I still can’t find it so will you please help me look?”

Yuri blinks at her, a spellbook propped open in her hands.

“Sorry, what?” she asks blankly. Kitty sucks in a breath and tries again. The little Alex on her shoulder reminds her that Not everyone’s on Kitty time. And that her assignment is still due in 8 hours. Great.

“I need to find a stupid flower to pass Professor Lee’s stupid assignment. Please help me.” She doesn’t get on her knees but it’s a close thing.

“Oh!” Yuri laughs, snapping the book shut. She hops off the desk and Kitty watches her cross the length of the room. “Right–the assignment for Magical History. First of all, it’s not a stupid flower. It’s the school’s emblem and no wonder you’re having trouble finding one–the whole forest’s probably been picked clean at this point.”

Kitty groans and slumps against the wall. Yuri and her are friends–are they friends? Yuri keeps dragging her on these outings when she’s bored, despite having a friend group larger than Kitty’s student debt but she’s never said no to one of Kitty’s favors and she’s saved her ass more than twice. Regardless, Yuri and her are… mutual acquaintances at the least but sometimes Kitty forgets her tendency to be unmercifully blunt. She’s speared through the heart by Yuri’s honesty.

“But you’re in luck! I happen to know a secret spot where a couple grow.”

Yuri takes a step into the sunlight and Kitty lingers in the doorway, uncertain if she’s meant to follow.

“Does this mean that you’ll help me?” she asks, squinting. The outline of her frame is glowing and Kitty can’t tell if it’s a trick of the light or a spell. The spell of love, the unhelpful Minho on her shoulder pipes up and she mentally flicks him to the ground.

She’s not in love with the prettiest girl in school. Actually, scratch that–who isn’t? Everyone’s a little bit in love with the prettiest girl in school–it’s only natural. Everyone thinks Yuri’s beautiful and Kitty’s no exception. Yeah, she’s fine. Everything is fine.

“Of course, silly!” Yuri laughs. She grabs Kitty’s wrist when she’s not satisfied with the pace and Kitty almost trips over her own two feet. “We’re friends after all!”

Ah. So Yuri does consider them friends.

“Yep, friends,” Kitty smiles, nodding, because don’t all friends daydream of kissing each other behind the school? It must be a natural reaction to the close proximity.

“Why’d you wait so long to start on Professor Lee’s assignment? They’re always absurdly difficult.”

“Ughhhhhh,” Kitty groans at the reminder, using her free hand to smother her face. “It wasn’t my choice! I’m so behind after transferring and I’ve been busy doing make-up exams and late assignments that this homework completely snuck up on me. Everything at KISS has been so… different compared to back home. You know, I used to be considered something of a genius in my town.”

“Were you now?”

“Hey, stop smiling! It’s true! You should ask my sisters when they come,” Kitty grumbles. She fights to keep the frown screwed onto her face but Yuri’s responding giggle may as well be a white flag. It’s a battle that she’s destined to always lose.

“Well, Kitty, I’d say you’re doing much better than when you first came. No desks have been blown up recently, no wands broken, no–”

“No! Don’t say it!”

“No frogs eaten either!” Yuri tacks on gleefully and Kitty feels her heart squeeze inside her chest. “I’d say you have a pretty good track record for the week.”

“Thanks, but it’s about to get spoiled unless I find this stupid–” Yuri raises one warning eyebrow. “Sorry, very-noble-and-cool-flower-that-represents-the-pride-and-future-of-KISS-Arcane-Academy. Better?”

“Much,” Yuri replies, tipping her head to smile. Kitty turns her face away, cheeks flushed.

“Where are you taking us, anyways?” she asks in a desperate attempt to change the subject before she combusts.

“My mother’s garden,” Yuri replies. She’s swinging their hands in time with their steps and Kitty finds it cute. Agh, no, she means logical!

“Wait. You want us to steal flowers from the principal’s garden?” Kitty’s heels dig into the dirt but Yuri yanks her forward.

“Oh come on, she has like a hundred! She won’t miss one and besides–it’s to help her student learn. She’d be all over that… probably slap it in a brochure too, actually.” Yuri tugs her another two steps forwards. “Besides, you don’t want to fail, right?”

Kitty works her lip between her teeth.

“You sure she won’t get mad?”

“Positive,” Yuri replies and Kitty’s heartbeat levels to something vaguely resembling normal. “As long as she doesn’t find out it was you.” Scratch that–she needs a healer on the scene, stat.

“I hope Principal Lim knows that I wouldn’t do this unless I didn’t have any other options,” Kitty mutters, swallowing past the lump in her throat. They’re crossing a stream now and Yuri wades into the water to hold her hand across the wooden plank.

“What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her,” Yuri replies with concerning ease. Kitty wonders how many other of Principal Lim’s belongings have gone mysteriously missing over the years. She swears (again) to never get on Yuri’s bad side.

“Okay, we’re here,” Yuri says, pulling at the latch of a wooden fence. It stands alone in the field, nothing but miles and miles of empty grass behind it.

“Are you sure–”

“Shh, I need to focus.” Yuri runs her thumb hard across the tip until it draws blood and the gate squeaks loudly before it swings open to reveal a garden behind it, like a little pocket dimension that they duck into. There’s a neatly trimmed rosebush tucked in the corner and an apple tree stretching up above the flowers. The leaves are laced with tiny lights.

“She must have been taking care of this place for a while,” Kitty says, bending down to inspect a row of tulips. They span all the colors of the rainbows–oranges ones for a telepathy spell, tall, yellow ones for the transformation spells, light purple ones for illusions.

“Must have,” Yuri replies and uproots a flower without a second thought. Kitty shrieks in sympathy.

“Here,” Yuri says, holding it out to her. Kitty reaches for it cautiously like the stem is on fire. She feels like Eve in the garden taking a forbidden fruit. “It’s for you.”

The pink flower Yuri hands her is beautiful. It has cascades of petals in endless rings around the center and it smells sweet when she lifts it up to her nose. However, what it is not is the purple weird shrub-looking thing that the school uses as its emblem.

“This isn’t the flower for my assignment,” Kitty says slowly. Yuri stares at her wordlessly before smiling.

“I know!” Kitty blinks.

“W-Well then, what is this?” Yuri’s turned around by this point but she pauses to toss a smile over her shoulder.

“You’re a genius–figure it out!”

[hildathesaint]

Hilda's herborium: Rose

Scientific name: genus Rosa with about 360 species

Country of Origin: China

Magical Qualities:

Enhances female intuition

Psychic work and dream work

Protection (having a rose with thorns helps with this)

Luck

Avoidance of conflict

Beauty

Confidence

Sexuality

Truth

Description

Rosa rubiginosa is the scientific name for rose. Roses belong to the Rosaceae family, and there are about 360 species in the genus Rosa. Erect bushes with stems are their defining characteristics.

Roses come in a variety of colours, such as red, white, yellow, blue, and many others. Roses are prized for their vivid colour, intricate petal arrangement, and fragrant scent. It also serves a functional purpose of slope stabilisation. The size of rose differs depending on the species. Roses are simple to grow since they are easily hybridised.

The majority of rose species are from Asia, while some are from Europe, North America, and other places.

Folklore

Roses have an extremely long history, with fossil evidence showing their existence over 35 million years ago. Around 5000 years ago, cultivation of roses is thought to have begun in China although it was only in the late 18th century that this type of rose made it to Europe. The cultivated roses from China were prized for their ability to bloom repeatedly each year and these cultivations ended up forming the base for most of the roses we see today after they were bred with hardy native roses.

Because of its bitter-sweet paradox of thorns and sweet smelling blooms, the rose earned its romantic associations. Love is both bitter and sweet, making the rose a perfect representation of it. The Greeks believed red roses were dyed by the blood of Aphrodite, Goddess of Love, after she cut her foot while running to attend the wounds of Adonis. Other myths suggest Cupid, God of Love, splashed white roses with his nectar thus turning them red. Either way, red too has strong associations with love and romance. Cleopatra strew roses across her room when she was with her lovers so they thought of her whenever they smelled one. Roses are commonly worn or used to during love spells to increase the power of the spell. Rose water and petals can be added to love baths to attract love and romance, while rose hips can be strung into a necklace to attract love. It is said that you can also take three (or more) green rose leaves and write the name of your lovers on each. The one that stays the green the longest is said to be the one.

Rose is also a plant of valor and protection. During the War of the Roses, both houses, Lancaster and York, adopted red and white roses to represent their houses. The red rose ended up later becoming the emblem of England. Rose petals and hips can be carried as a personal protective charms. In fact, they were often included in posies to ward off the Black plague. Rose petals around the home can calm personal stress and soothe household problems as well.

Quotes about roses

“A rose dreams of enjoying the company of bees, but none appears. The sun asks: ‘Aren’t you tired of waiting?’ ‘Yes,’ answers the rose, ‘but if I close my petals, I will wither and die.’” – Paulo Coelho

“The rose is a rose from the time it is a seed to the time it dies. Within it, at all times, it contains its whole potential. It seems to be constantly in the process of change: Yet at each state, at each moment, it is perfectly all right as it is.” – Paulo Coelho

“If I had a rose for every time I thought of you, I’d be picking roses for a lifetime.” – Swedish Proverb

“Roses fall, but the thorns remain.” – Dutch Proverb

“A single rose can be my garden… a single friend, my world.” – Leo Buscaglia

“How cunningly nature hides every wrinkle of her inconceivable antiquity under roses and violets and morning dew!” -Ralph Waldo Emerson

“When you have only two pennies left in the world, buy a loaf of bread with one, and a rose with the other.” -Chinese Proverb

[sandrockianblues]

Hey, I was wondering how do you feel about Logan and Haru’s relationship?

I wasn’t expecting an ask after my post so fast lol, hi

Logan and Haru honestly radiate brother energy to me.

I know that’s not what a lot of people will wanna hear, but it's my own opinion and if someone can’t handle that, they need to accept that not everyone sees the same thing as them. This post is just gonna be me elaborating on why and also how I perceive the two.

Before I get accused of ignorance or anything worse than that- I do have gay family members, I was in a major that was filled with predominantly gay or bi men (honestly a surprise to me for some reason, and I had close friends growing up during my grade school years who never had an issue expressing themselves or hiding who they were (we grew up in a more accepting community).

The ship between the boys is neat, but I don’t ship it, just like how I wouldn’t let myself ship Mi-An and Elsie, but I can see the ship after Elsie’s character growth. Or how I’d actually love to see Amirah with Grace.

I ship based primarily upon if they’d fit together psychologically and what their dynamics scream to me. I don’t like to randomly throw characters together just because it’s new or A looks like this and B is the opposite. I don’t believe looks make a relationship- they can make a trope, but a trope only works if characters actually mesh well together. It’s a common misconception I’ve seen over the years.

But in the case of Logan and Haru- they scream found family and brothers to me.

Coming from someone who has witnessed or experienced found family, it’s actually something beautiful and profound. My uncle isn’t really my uncle, my abuelo’s family took him in when he was laboring away as a kid and sleeping in a cargo shipping container. My sister-in-law didn’t click well with her own family but is perfect in ours and she is one of us. My dad’s friend grew up being babysat by a woman across the street and that whole family essentially became hers despite having a sister and parents of her own.

Found family does exist- and it’s often a concept not considered.

Tbh, the two of them remind me of Sylvain and Felix from Fire Emblem: Three House. Which is another case I think is found family/brother bond over romantic.

While Haru does seem to understand Logan and he seems like the balance to him- that’s often a case for siblings. Siblings can be opposites. My sister and I are, my brother and I are- and my brother and sister are the same as one another.

I don’t think Haru could stand dating Logan’s ass BECAUSE he knows him. There’s nothing wrong with Logan, but something in their dynamic hints that Logan can be a bit annoying. I hc him as pestering Haru when he’s bored while Haru is trying to work on something.

And while Logan appreciates Haru helping to guide him, that he makes up for the areas Logan lacks in and vice versa, I can see Logan getting into a tiffy with some of his issues as well. Not like a relationship style of learning to accept one another’s flaws and areas they lack in, more like I can see the two annihilating the shit out of one another in a ruthless sibling like way. And it’d be hilarious and they’d forgive one another because they know they’ll do it again. There’s acceptance and accountability held between the two.

I think the softness they have with one another stems from grief, but also their personalities.

Logan, while blunt and to the point, is caring and protective of those he sees as family. It’s evident in his lines and voice that there’s shifts the more you progress with him unlike some characters (no disrespect to them). Logan is a survivalist who knows he has to accept his own shortcomings and ask for help when he can’t do it himself- because how else will he achieve what he needs done? He’s cocky, but he’s honest and knows he needs humility to stay alive.

I do not believe his gentle demeanor towards his friend is anything romantically coded. He seems to speak like that to some others as well in Act III from what I’ve seen so far.

As for the concept of them being Andy’s parents- while it’s evident that Logan is Andy’s father figure despite the man being young, Haru and Andy seem like siblings as well to me. They honestly give off the vibes of the brothers from Big Hero 6.

Both are incredibly intelligent, both have a similar personality to that of the character they correspond to in the movie, and one leaves so the other can achieve things by himself. Just, in this case, Haru isn’t gonna be in an explosion like the brother was. Haru helped hone in on Andy’s brewing intelligence, but it’s obvious to both men that Andy needs proper schooling as well and to grow up as a kid. Andy cannot follow in either of their shadows, Andy cannot become the next Haru. Haru even radiates big brother energy and is less guiding in Andy’s life like Logan is (I.e. when he tries to do what’s best for him and his safety).

So, in conclusion, I think Logan and Haru are that of found family and brothers. I don’t read any romantic connotations from them or hints of it. And while Logan serves the role of Andy’s father, Haru seems to be that of the big brother. Any “hints” of them being that way, to me, is just this heavy set of shared guilt and burdens between the two of them. I think their need to protect Sandrock and avenge Howlett, as well as taking in Andy, helped to alleviate them in a way, but it’s a dark moment in their lives that is gonna be between the two of them.

I have some friends within this fandom who ship the two, and that’s honestly more than fine. We all see and perceive things a different way. I respect them and thankfully, I receive it back. I worry for this ship to become similar within the fanbase akin to Felix x Sylvain or Dean x Castiel in terms of fans arguing with one another, and I know it’ll occur either way because some are strongly for the ship, and some are vehemently against it. My only hope is that it doesn’t reach that level and we can respect one another’s opinions.

[ilu-icey]

Fire Emblem Engage Cross-Swap AU

Omigosh, it's happening.

So, Cross-Swap. Also known as "we swapped Firene and Elusia, and Brodia and Solm, among other things".

Let's start with the introductions: the Royals! Here they are all together:

(order: same as intro song, so Firene - Brodia - Solm - Elusia)

And now, for more individual details under the cut:

Ivy: "Calming Rose"

A reserved, soft-spoken princess of Firene than can often be found in the gardens, a cup of tea in one hand and a novel in the other. Losing her mother the day that her sister was born left her battling anxiety and the fear of abandonment for a large portion of her childhood. However, through trips to visit the sleeping Divine Dragon in Lythos, she could find solace in a friend that would listen to her fears, never judge her, and remain ever by her side. While still plagued by ghosts of the past, time and therapy have allowed her to tame some of her fears, and she endeavors to grow into the image of the unshakeable, ever-benevolent ruler that her people see in her.

As for her retainers, I imagine Zelkov could have been an assassin before going into medicine (friendly reminder that we have Jean in base game from Firene), and Kagetsu... honestly it's still in development, but he could come from the islands where the Divine Paralogues happen.

Hortensia: "Budding Charm"

The second princess of Firene, and while cheerful and sociable at times, she can also appear oddly demure and analytical depending on the situation. While she never had the chance to know her mother personally, many people take every chance to remind her just how much she resembles her. Even with her father stepping up to fight constant battles of comparisons throughout her life, she still finds herself torn between her enjoyment of cute and artsy things and her desire to be recognized as her own person, and struggles with self-acceptance and finding who she is or should be. Dislikes conflicts and arguments, and always doing her best to encourage others to pursue their passions and cheer them up like she tried to do for her sister for so many years.

Goldmary is going to have a FIELD DAY in Firene (she loves chores, for context). Probably Rosado as well (all those beautiful flowers to paint...) Now as for how they met... to be determined.

Timerra: "Humbling Force"

The crown princess of the Queendom of Bordia and an advocate for diplomacy and change in a stubborn, unchanging country. Used to skip training when she was young to roam the streets and look for people to help, only to be faced with closed doors and a home that consistently found her to be too weak for their liking. Though naturally very strong, she cannot escape the impression left by her "irresponsibility", and remains in the constant loop of trying to prove herself and still never being enough for the court. Hardened and unerringly dutiful on the surface, but she still adores singing, shopping, and exploring the mountainscape on horseback, sometimes sneaking out on fishing and camping trips with her brother and proceeding to scare away the fish with their constant laughter.

Merrin could be a noble who got her way into knighthood by escaping her duties and meeting Timerra one day. Panette definitely won the tournament to become her retainer. She did so by busting her way out of the streets despite her... parents... for her and her brother's sake.

Fogado: "Magnetic Militant"

The silver tongued, strategic minded prince of Brodia that believes in his sister's ideals more than anyone. Through constant, covert endeavors to train his body, sharpen his tongue, and support his sister, the court was often pleased by his prowess and began to favor him over his sister and flooded the two with constant comparisons. And now, caught between trying to shake off their disappointment in her and keep his hold on the court, he feels lost and can't find where to turn, though getting him to drop his act and admit it is a game all on its own. Still, their bond remains unbreakable, if not growing stronger, with both knowing just how hard the other works and laughing off as much of their troubles as they can manage.

Bunet became a retainer in the same tournament as Panette (yes, he lost against her), as the Sibbies are extremely close age-wise. Perhaps as a way to help his family after his village was raided by bandits? Would make a nice parallel to Saphir. Pandreo was found and got out of his terrible situation via Panette and the Sibbies. He's grateful for all of them, while his horrendous strength is not helping him in the court.

Alfred: "Snowy Hope"

Elusia's bubbly and ever-optimistic crown prince, and the kingdom's beloved "beacon of light". Chronic illness forced him to spend most of his childhood indoors and away from the harsh weather of the land, leaving him with a weak constitution, but ample time to study and perfect his magic. With his sister's research, a magical "medicine" could be used to improve his quality of life, but never quite curing his illness. Because of this, his family still proposes the Fell Dragon's "miracle" to permanently extend his life, and pushing against this, he chooses to secretly worship the Divine and make the most of the life he has. Dedicated to his country and pure of heart to a fault, one may consistently find him soaring the skies on his pegasus, visiting his people, captivating children with his magic tricks, and rescuing any and all who need help despite the toll it takes on him.

He'd be a Pegasus Mage Knight of sorts, being able to use Lances, Tomes, and Staves upon promotion. Glass Cannon type, keep him far away from archers.

Etie could be a member of the Elusian court! Appointed to Alfred instead of Céline like in base game, but now she can throw hands. And break archers for her liege's sake while at it. Boucheron... perhaps there could be something like the Village of the Fair Folk, but for hunky people? Either way, snow and forests are not helping if his sense of direction is still horrendous.

Céline: "Icy Guardian"

Described by others as calculating and almost cruel, but rather sentimental and compassionate underneath her icey façade. Though only the half-sister to the crown prince, she lives with the expectation of taking the throne for herself one day and does everything in her power to see that it will never happen. Balancing political ambition, magical research, and physical training with her wyvern has left her with many sleepless nights and contending with far more nightmares. Though she fears the potential outcomes of war, and perhaps developed a slight vendetta against archers, she believes that the Fell Dragon can help her land and family where the Divine could not. Enjoys art and painting, capturing the fleeting moments of the world's beauty and the memories of her brother and friends before they might dull and fade.

I imagine she could work well in a similar class from Zelestia, as in a wyvern rider with access to Swords and Tomes.

Don't have much on Chloé and Louis, while they could have met at the Academy like Hortensia with Rosado and Goldmary in base game. Mintavia and I joked that Chloé is responsible for 99% of the trinkets in Alfred's hidden Divine shrine. She just picked stuff she found interesting during her flights with the siblings, and he gladly took them.

Diamant: "Sand's Scion"

Solm's steadfast and amicable crown prince and regarded by his people as practically perfect. Incredibly versed in negotiating and diplomacy, which may or may not stem from growing up too quickly and being forced to calm a few heated arguments between his father and the neighboring king of Firene. Though he adores traveling and the stories and banter with his friends that come with it, his father's impulsive travels to fix their bandit issues have left him as the main person to take care of politics and the "King of Solm'' in every way except in title. Still, when he is able to leave, folks say that his laughter can be heard from all across the desert, described by some as the "Racket of Solm".

He met Jade in one of his rare travels, then Amber in another. Jade is still mostly a writer, but also a keeper of precious things (she has been tasked with safekeeping the Emblem Ring once or twice). Amber loves camels now. He's still as interested in legends, and as clumsy and able to get into trouble as ever, though.

Alcryst: "Desert Shade"

A perceptive, unbelievably friendly young man that, while highly regarded, often has to hide his identity as the second prince of Solm. A comforting presence in the harsh desert, he's always willing to lend an ear to other's issues, but attempting to do the same for him and his own feelings will leave one entirely empty-handed. However, any bandit that has had the misfortune of crossing his path can attest to how quickly that friendly face can drop when danger threatens those around him, especially his family. Constantly roaming the desert with his retainers to both lend a hand to those in need and gathering valuable intel about the entire continent, keeping his homeland safe and preventing threats from setting foot inside their borders. And with his reports come many, many stories and a solid excuse to return home every once in a while and visit with his brother.

Bow Wolf Knight? Bow Wolf Knight. With Daggers, of course.

Citrinne is still his cousin, and nothing in the world could separate them. She doubles as his confidant, and is the most attuned to how he really is under the surface. Lapis was met after a bandit raid on a village near her home, as she helped with the reconstruction efforts with her strength and ability to make stuff out of scraps. Perhaps one day she will discover more about her liege.

Naturally, more could come as Mint, Luna and I decide on the classes of the Royals that still need to be determined, get more details on the retainers that still need exploring, and as we explore another important swap in the AU. Stay tuned!

[gladdyator18]

Fooled by a Snore - TickleTober2023 Day 29 (Wake Up!)

This is for the lovely and amazing @giggly-squiggily for helping me throughout my Fire Emblem OC phase! Hope you like it!

Summary: When Henry sees Ashton napping in a nearby flower field, he decides to give him a little wake-up call. However, it doesn't go as planned when Ashton turns the tables.

Word Count: 1578

"Welcome, Lady Allison," said Countess Melody with a bow, "And welcome to your sons. It is an honor to have House Leiado visit us."

It was early autumn, and House Leiado decided to visit House Galileus. Lady Allison Leiado and Countess Melody Galileus have been best friends since childhood, and they rarely ever get to see each other, so when Lady Allison found a window of time to visit her friend, she didn't hesitate to see her, and the Countess couldn't be happier. Lady Allison knew Hunter and Henry were good friends with Ashton, so she brought them along to catch up.

"Oh, Melly, no need to be so formal," Lady Allison said, waving a lazy hand, "We're childhood friends, are we not?"

The Countess looked up from her bow and grinned.

"That we are, Ally," she said, "Ashton is… somewhere around the castle. Your sons are more than welcome to search for him."

The Leiado Twins thanked the noblewoman before leaving their mother's side, the chipper voices of the two women fading as they walked away.

"So, where do you think ol' Ash is hiding?" Henry asked.

"Some place to not be disturbed by you." Hunter said, a smug grin growing.

Henry scoffed before flipping off his brother. As the brothers continued their mini search for the nobleman, Hunter yawned before leaning against a nearby pillar.

"This is getting boring," Hunter said as he straightened his posture, "You can go look for Ashton; I'm gonna go take a nap in the living room,"

"Aw, c'mon, bro," Henry whined, "Just a few more minutes?"

"Nope. Tell Ash I said hi when you find him."

The blue-haired nobleman turned on his heel and gave a lazy salute to his twin as he walked away. Henry sighed as he smoothed his hair back.

"Well, if you want something done, you gotta do it yourself." Henry muttered.

The orange-hair nobleman straightened his posture before continuing his search for the heir of House Galileus. When Henry took an unfamiliar turn, he stood before a beautiful garden, flowers of every rainbow's hue dancing in the delicate breeze, large hedges in the shape of pegasi, and a fountain in the middle. Henry smiled as he strolled through the castle garden, lightly caressing the cluster of flowers.

"Hunter is so missing out." Henry chuckled.

As Henry roamed the garden, he saw a small flower field with rolling hills and small yellow and pink flowers a few meters away. Lying in the flowers was House Galileus's heir, staring up at the clear blue sky. Henry grinned before jogging over to the other nobleman.

"Hey! Ash!" Henry called out.

The young heir glanced over at the sound of his name. When he saw Henry jogging over, he sighed.

"Well, there goes my peace and quiet…" he mumbled.

As Henry drew near, Ashton grinned as a devious idea came to mind. Shifting slightly, Ashton closed his eyes and remained still. When Henry was next to him, he saw that he was "sleeping."

"Ash?" Henry asked, lightly tapping the other's shoulder, "Ashton?"

Henry poked his cheek; no response.

"Ashton Cromwell Galileus!" Henry shouted.

Ashton bit the inside of his cheek, trying his hardest not to smile. Henry groaned before sitting beside the "sleeping" nobleman.

"Is he really out cold?" Henry asked aloud.

When Ashton heard that, he let out a few soft snores as he shifted in his "sleep." Henry chuckled as he glanced down at the "sleeping" nobleman, smirking when an idea came to mind. When Henry scooted closer to Ashton, he poked it. Giving what the orange-haired noble wanted, Ashton flinched a little. Henry grinned before poking his side again, trailing it over his belly. Ashton shifted in his "sleep" with a smile growing on his face.

"Wake up, Ash." Henry said in a sing-song voice.

Ashton chuckled before turning on his side, feeling his devious grin grow. Feeling impish, Henry chuckled as he straddled Ashton. Henry raised his hands and positioned them to the other noble's sides.

"Time for a little wake-up call." Henry said.

"I agree." Ashton said.

Henry's stomach flipped when he saw Ashton's piercing teal-green eyes staring at him.

"Hey, Hen." Ashton said.

Before Henry could react, Ashton grabbed the other's wrists and flipped them over. With little to no effort, Ashton was now straddling a very shocked and confused Henry.

"A-Ash!? You were awake this whole time?" Henry asked.

"Obviously," Ashton said, "What kind of fool do you take me for?"

When Henry tried to free his wrists, Ashton's grip tightened.

"So, what were you trying to do to wake me up?" Ashton asked, smirking at the fear in the other's ruby eyes.

"N-Nothing, I-I swear," Henry stammered, "W-Well, granted, you weren't asleep to begin with, so…"

"Really? Is that your excuse?"

Holding the other's wrist with one hand, Ashton placed his free hand on Henry's side, chuckling when the other jerked hard.

"You know retribution needs to happen, right, Leiado?" Ashton questioned.

"It really doesn't." Henry chuckled.

Ashton grinned before tweaking the other's side, making the orange-haired nobleman yelp.

"Oh, this is gonna be fun." Ashton chuckled.

Before Henry could protest, the younger nobleman was thrown into a fit of giggles as the other tickled his sides.

"Ahahahahash, nahahahaa!" Henry giggled, "Not fahahahair!"

"Oh, but it was fair when you did this to me, huh?" Ashton asked.

"I wahahahas only poking yohohohou! Not tihihihihickling yohohou!"

"But when you straddled me, is this not what you were going to do to me?"

Henry couldn't object to that, for it was true. Ashton hummed in satisfaction as he released the other's wrists to use both hands on Henry's sides. Henry squealed

"Hahahahahehehe! You're such a jeheheheheherk!" Henry giggled, "Stohohohohohop!"

"Oh, I'm the jerk? Is that right, Leiado?" Ashton asked.

When Ashton moved his hands to the other's hips, Henry gave a small buck as he tried to push away the other's hands.

"Nahahahaha! Ashtohohohohohon, plehehehease!" Henry cried.

"You know, this is sort of a wake-up call, for you, that is," Ashton said, "A wake-up call to remind you that you will never gain the upper hand against me,"

"Ohohohoho, you suhuhuhuhuck!"

"I beg your pardon?"

Ashton stilled his hands from squeezing the other's hips, watching with patient eyes as Henry panted slightly.

"I… Ihihi said… you suhuhuck…" Henry said, giggling slightly.

Ashton gave the orange-haired noble a playfully dangerous look as he leaned closer, their noses almost touching.

"You're dead, Leiado…" Ashton growled in the other's ear.

Before the other could protest, Henry let out a scream-like laugh as he kicked out his legs. Henry squirmed as he tried to push Ashton's hands out of his armpits.

"AAAAAHAHAHAHAHAA! AAAHAHAHAHASH!" Henry cried, "STAAHAHAHAP! NOT THEHEHEHERE!"

"Oh, not here?" Ashton asked, using two fingers to massage into the sensitive spot.

Henry let out a snort before dissolving into hysterical laughter.

"ASH, PLEHEHEHEHASE! STAAAAHAHAP!" Henry laughed.

"Take back what you said, and I will." Ashton said calmly.

"OKAY, OKAHAHAHAY! YOU DON'T SUHUHUHUHUCK! YOU DOHOHOHON'T SUHUHUHUHUCK!"

Ashton grinned and nodded before dropping his hands down to Henry's ribs, eliciting a snort and a wheeze from the orange-haired noble.

"YOU SAID YOU'D STAHAAAAAHAHAHAP! HEHEHEHAAHAHA!" Henry cried.

"Yeah, I'd stop tickling your armpits if you'd take back what you said," Ashton said, "Now, I'll stop if you apologize for bothering me."

Henry felt tears of mirth dotting the corners of his eyes as his laughter rang throughout the rolling fields.

"ASH, PLEHEHEHEEEEE!" Henry wheezed.

"Apologize, Leiado." Ashton said.

Henry snorted as he tried to grab the other's wrists, but Ashton's hands easily escaped his grip.

"If and when you apologize, I'll stop." Ashton said.

Ashton growled through his laughter as his legs drummed against the shamrock-colored grass, not wanting to give in to the heir's demands, but when Ashton hit a sensitive spot near the top rib, Henry lost it.

"OKAY, OKAHAHAHAHAHAY! I'M SAHAHAAAAA!" Henry cried, "I'M SOHOHORRYHYHYHY! SO VEHEHEHEHERY SOHOHOHORRHYHYHY!"

Ashton nodded before pulling his hands away, leaving a breathless Henry beneath him.

"Now you know better than to mess with me." Ashton said.

"Now I know… not to trust you… when you're sleeping." Henry panted.

The heir chuckled before climbing off the nobleman and helping him sit up.

"I will say that was pretty fun," Henry said, "I didn't know you could be so ruthless."

"Oh, believe me, I could be a lot worse," Ashton commented, "Just be lucky I didn't use my magic against you; I could've had you in tears in seconds."

The thought of Ashton's magic doing the tickling made Henry shudder and giggle.

"T-Thahat'd be interehehesting." Henry said.

Ashton chuckled before laying back on the grass and staring at the sky.

"Oh, I almost forgot," Henry said suddenly, "Hunter says hi,"

"Is he not here?" Ashton asked.

"He's here; he just got bored looking for you."

"Is that so?"

The heir sat up and gave the nobleman a knowing look.

"Well, why don't we pay him a visit and show him the error of his ways for not being as persistent as you," Ashton suggested.

"Now we're talking!" Henry said, a devious grin growing on his face, "He said he was gonna take a nap, so it looks like another wake-up call is needed."

"Indeed."

The two noblemen stood up before jogging back to the castle in search of Hunter. That boy has no idea what he's in for. Let's say when Henry and Ashton found him, Hunter had a very rude awakening.

[haynahkho]

her smile

characters: mitama and soleil (fire emblem fates)

pairing: mitama/soleil (f/f)

wc: ~1k

Unable to find the perfect words for her haiku, Mitama looks to Soleil for help.

The afternoon sun dipped low in the sky, casting a golden hue over the bustling courtyard of the campus. Students milled about, laughter and chatter filling the air as they rushed to their after-school activities. Among them was Soleil, whose laughter echoed like music. She was a force of nature, her energy infectious and her spirit unyielding.

Beside her walked Mitama. With her rose-colored hair cascading in a loose tie, Mitama could not help but bask Soleil’s vibrant presence.

“Did you see that spike during practice today? It was epic!” Soleil exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with excitement as they walked toward the station.

Mitama smiled, her heart warming at Soleil's enthusiasm. “You were really in your element. The crowd loved it.”

Soleil chuckled, playfully nudging Mitama with her shoulder. “You know, I think they love me more than they love volleyball.”

“Quite the confident captain,” Mitama teased, her voice light but her mind elsewhere. She was trying to focus on the haiku she had been crafting, the words swirling in her head like a flurry of leaves caught in the wind.

They reached a quiet spot beneath a cherry blossom tree, petals drifting gently around them. Mitama paused, pulling out her notebook. “Speaking of confidence, I’ve been working on a haiku. It’s about you, actually.”

Soleil’s eyes widened with interest. “Oh? Let's hear it!”

Mitama took a deep breath, excitement bubbling in her chest. “Alright, here it goes: Graceful as the breeze, / A shining star in the night. But the last line… I’m stuck.”

She glanced at Soleil, her heart pounding. She had written many haikus, but for some odd reason, this one was difficult to complete. The way the words danced in her mind was different, as if they were waiting for the right moment to land perfectly on the page.

Soleil tilted her head, curiosity evident in her bright eyes. “What do you have so far?”

Mitama reiterated the first two lines, her voice soft yet clear. “Graceful as the breeze, / A shining star in the night…”

“Those are beautiful!” Soleil exclaimed. “But what’s the theme for the last line?”

“I want it to capture how you inspire everyone around you,” Mitama confessed, her cheeks flushing. “But I can’t find the right words to tie it all together.”

Soleil leaned against the trunk of the tree, a thoughtful expression on her face. “Inspire… Hmm. What about something like… ‘You lift us all high?’”

Mitama considered it, her heart fluttering. “That’s close! But I want it to have that gentle touch, something more… poetic.”

Soleil’s brow furrowed in concentration. “Okay, how about ‘With your smile…. something’?”

An idea sparked in Mitama's mind as her eyes sparkled with excitement. “That’s perfect! It flows beautifully!” She quickly scribbled the line down, her heart racing. “Let’s see it all together!”

“Alright,” Soleil encouraged though confused, clapping her hands together. “Go for it!”

Mitama read it aloud, her voice growing stronger with each word. “Graceful as the breeze, / A shining star in the night, / With your smile, I soar.”

As the last word lingered in the air, Mitama felt a warmth blossom in her chest. Soleil’s presence had a way of lighting up the world around her, and now she felt it reflected in her own words.

“That’s amazing!” Soleil beamed, her eyes gleaming with admiration. “You really captured me, you know?”

Mitama’s cheeks flushed. “It’s not just you. It’s how you make everyone feel. You have this… light.”

Soleil tilted her head, a soft smile forming on her lips. “You’re pretty amazing yourself, Mitama. I love how you see the world. You have this unique perspective that makes everything seem a bit more beautiful.”

Mitama’s heart raced. “Thank you. That means a lot coming from you.” She fiddled with her notebook, a mix of nervousness and delight bubbling within her.

The train pulled into the station, its doors sliding open with a hiss. They stepped aboard, finding a spot by the window. As they settled in, Mitama looked out at the passing scenery, her mind still buzzing with inspiration.

As the train rattled along the tracks, Mitama began to jot down ideas, the rhythm of the train matching the rhythm of her thoughts. With every word, she felt a deeper connection to Soleil—her laughter, her warmth, the way she saw the world.

For Mitama, the perfect haiku wasn’t just about capturing a moment; it was about the emotions that surged through her whenever she was near Soleil. And with each line, each word, she felt herself falling deeper into the beauty of their friendship, a story written not just in syllables, but in shared dreams and whispered laughter.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, Mitama glanced at Soleil, who was watching the fading light with a thoughtful expression. In that moment, she knew that the lines of her haikus would always find their way back to the light Soleil brought into her life.

And with that thought, she smiled, ready to embrace whatever inspiration the next moment would bring.

[ally-notebook]

Boucheron

Bonus!:

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You can find close ups and better quality pictures on the wiki!

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[ID: Five screenshots of Boucheron from Fire Emblem: Engage from his pages in the ally notebook. There is a sixth screenshot of the Divine Dragon standing over the momentos drawer. In the first screenshot, there is a polaroid of Boucheron on the left page, his left hand on his hip, head tilted with a smile. He wears his signature armor, white plates of steel over oranges and bluish greens. The page on the right reads:

'Boucheron. Initial Class: Axe Fighter. Birthday: May 11th. Basic Info: Royal Knight of Firene. He arrived at Lythos Castle on the night it was attacked, along with Prince Alfred and his fellow retainer, Etie.'

The second screenshot is of the next few pages of the ally notebook, On the left page, there is a polaroid of Boucheron in battle, running for an enemy with his axe. His eyebrows tip downward, focus written on his face. The page on the right reads:

'Likes: reading, fishing, walks, well-marked hiking paths, nature, stories with happy endings. Dislikes: precise work, scary stories, unmarked paths, stories with sad endings.'

In the third screenshot, there's another polaroid of Etie, this time wearing the Blue-Sky Vest from the clothing vendor in the game. The outfit consists of a beautiful sky blue vest and billowing white sleeves with ruffles, as well as jeweled detailing around the chest and down the buttons. Two silver roses are pinned to the left side of the chest with green leaves to match. His eyes are closed, one corner of his mouth turned up in a sort of laugh. His left hand is raised as if to say "oh, stop it". He stands against a right blue sky, the green hills of Firene behind him. The page on the right of it reads:

'Hobbies: outdoor reading. Talents: manual labor. Background: The second son of a Firenese count from a town known for its waters. Has one older brother. He's known Prince Alfred since they were young.'

In the fourth screenshot, there is a polaroid of Boucheron hunched over a book, tears falling from his eyes. The page on the right reads:

'Height: 6'3. Ring Size: 10.25 | U. Personality: Compassionate, sensitive, and quick to cry Often traveled by carriage growing up, so his sense of direction is weak. The most tolerant person in the army.'

In the fifth screenshot, there's another polaroid of Boucheron on the left page. He sits in a forest, resting on a stump of a tree long gone, gently holding the Divine Dragon's hand in his own. The Pact Ring sparkles blue on his right ring finger where his glove has been removed. There is a light blush on his face. The page next to it reads:

'Life with Boucheron. He always has a sympathetic ear for the Divine Dragon and remains supportive. He only wears the Pact Ring on very special occasions so as to not tear up at the sight of it.'

The sixth and final screenshot is of the Divine Dragon standing over the momentos drawer, looking at the gift that Boucheron has given them, a book with a beige cover with a picture of a clearing with a blue sky above it. A textbox is displayed on screen, it reads:

'Boucheron gave me this precious gift, one of his favorite books, to show me what I meant to him.'

End ID.]

[arakawa-division]

"I'd rather regret the risks that didn't work out than the chances I didn't take at all." - Simone Biles

Introduction

Alexis "Lexi" Ward is the leader of the Arakawa Division rap battle team, Sounds of Silence. She is known far and wide by her moniker, Agent X. An operative from America, and one of the best members to don their uniform, Alexis takes her position as an agent for the Agency very seriously. And with the influence and threat of Chuohku steadily growing larger and larger by the day, she was personally chosen by the director of her team to stem their threat before it grows too large to control.

Alexis is a beautiful American woman with short red hair that goes past her neck and bangs that sometimes fall into her light-brown eyes. She stands at six feet and weighs 147 lb. She has a C-sized chest, long hips, and a somewhat slim waist.

When she isn't working, Alexis dresses casually wearing a sleeveless black crop top, blue jeans with star prints, an oversized brown leather belt, and low-heeled brown sandals. She has a pair of blue sunglasses, either on top of her head or on her face. Lastly, she has a black collar around her neck.

When she is on the job, Alexis wears a uniform typical of the Agency. It consists of a white buttoned dress shirt, a pair of black slacks, some black dress socks and shoes, a matching-colored tie, and a suit jacket. She's discarded her sunglasses for a pair of reading glasses, giving her a more professional look. She's also tied up her hair in the back, giving her a bun. She also has a pair of dog tags around her neck. Lastly, an emblem is implanted on her dress shirt, which shows her affiliation to the U.S. and her organization.

Name Meaning

Alexis - A name of Greek origin. It means, "defender" or "helper".

Lexi - A name of Greek origin, derived from the name "Alexis". It means, "man's defender".

Ward - A name of English origin. It means, "guardian" or "watchman".

Aliases:

"Alex"/"Lexi"- (Her close friends and family)

"Red", Lady, Sexy, Beautiful, etc.

Agent Ward

"The Crimson Agent"

Auntie - Her nephew

Biographical Info

Gender - Female

Age - 34

Birthday - February 8th

Ethnicity - American

Hair Color - Velvet Red

Eye Color - Light Brown

Height - 182 cm (6'0")

Weight - 67 kg (147 lb.)

Star Sign - Aquarius

Piercings - N/A

Markings - Faded scars on her arms and legs.

Tattoo of the date '9/21' on her lower left hip.

Family -

Father (Deceased)

Mother

Brother (Deceased)

Sister

Niece

Voiced By - Dessa (Rapping)

Fun Facts

MC Name - Agent X

Occupation - Photographer/CIA Operative

Division - Arakawa

Team - Sounds of Silence

Position - 1st Member/Leader

Favorite Food - Beef Broth Rice

Least Favorite Food - Pork and Beans

Likes - Photography, sunny days, music ballads, baseball, dogs, riding her motorcycle, her job, her dog tags, shopping, and reading

Dislikes - Cloudy days, ashy skin, cats, her father and brother's killer terrorists, threats to her country, waking up late, perverts, sad memories and cigarette smoke

Hypnosis Microphone

Alexis's Microphone takes the form of a black earpiece headset, which goes into her ears. It is similar to what security guards wear while on the job.

Her Speaker takes the form of three American flags on poles, blowing in the wind. Instead of the aluminum balls usually displayed atop each pole, they are replaced with speakers. Atop the pole in the middle sits a bald eagle.

Her rap ability, Build Me Up, allows Alexis to increase her attack, defense, and stamina the more that her team or her opponents use their abilities. Unlike her teammates, her ability is always active.

Alexis's rap themes center on her love for her job, her family and her country. She speaks about how America has prevailed and persevered throughout its 200+ year-old history and how it will continue to do so. On serious topics, she raps about her hatred for enemies of America, and her wish to find the man behind her father and brother's murders. She will also sometimes rap about her love for the outdoors, knowledge and taking pictures.

Personality

Despite how she appears, Alexis is a nice, friendly woman outside of her uniform who is kind to everyone. When she is not working, she enjoys spending her time outside in nature, taking photos with her Sony a7 IV. She dislikes being cooped up in one place, which is why she loves her cover job as a photographer, as it allows her to go to new places and see new sights. She loves the pictures she takes, considering them priceless treasures.

Alexis is also a lover of fine clothes, enjoying going shopping with her friends. She also enjoys reading in her spare time and is an avid fan of women's magazines and fashion blogs. She also enjoys engaging in idle talk with her friends at times. However, she has stated that she doesn't like gossip, and will not participate in it no matter who it is about, as she finds the thought and idea of talking about someone behind their back to be disgusting. Besides that, Alexis is just a normal woman you'd find everywhere. She affirms to the belief that 'my job does not make me.'

However, once it is time for her to get to work, Alexis becomes an entirely different person, dedicated solely to the perfection of her job, and the absolute completion of her mission, whatever it may be. She is well-trained in firearms and intelligence and has been noted by her superiors for her quick thinking and ability to come up with plans on short notice. And though she has been reprimanded for disobeying orders on occasion, her work and accomplishments are always enough to keep her from being punished.

She is firmly loyal to her country, even if she doesn't always agree with the policies put in place by those in charge. She has stated that if she has to give her life to defend it, then she gladly will. She believes that this is the ultimate show of loyalty she can give to the U.S. The real reason for this is due to the fact that both her father and older brother gave their lives to protect the former president. She now strives to live as well and as best as she can to honor their memories.

Background

*Coming soon*

Trivia

She knows FBI Agent, Kyler Aaron, due to the fact that the CIA and FBI often cooperated on missions. She often teases him because he once made a mistake on a mission, requiring her to save him. She's held it above his head since then.

Her answer when asked where she's from is always, 'Langley, Virginia.'

Though she loves her country, she doesn't really care much for the people in charge; particularly, Byron Douglas, the current president of the U.S.

The dog tags she wears belonged to her father and brother. She wears them in honor of their memory and service.

Though she came to Japan in order to keep an eye on Chuohku, her real reason is to find the person responsible for her father and brother's murders. The only clue she has on the killer is that 'the killer is currently incarcerated in Japan and has a reputation as a former hitman...'

[merryfortune]

Every Rose Has Its Thorns

Written for the 100ships Challenge on Dreamwidth

Prompt :#59 Rose

Title: Every Rose Has Its Thorns

Ship: Dorothea/Manuela 

Fandom: Fire Emblem Three Houses

Word Count: 3,690

Rating: T

Tags: Student/Teacher Relationship, Age Difference, Crushes, Unrequited Pining, Kissing, Academy Phase, Crimson Flowers

   The assignment was deceptively simple, Dorothea realised now in horror.

   Professor Byleth had assigned the class a task to teach them magic - and to teach them to appreciate how beautiful and complex magic was at all. How enchantment worked and how with just a flick of a wrist, they controlled the elements. Of which, when it came to magic, regardless of it it followed the convention of Reason or Faith, there were obvious elemental types belonging to either category. Those elements being ice, light, dark, wind, fire, and thunder.

   However, there was also the oft ignored type of anima. 

   Anima was just there, or so Professor Byleth described. Anima was the rhythm of the natural world like the seasons, or the beauty of the moon and the sound of waterfalls. Anima was the name given to the little gifts from the Goddess, or so the religious amongst them would say but since Professor Byleth was very much, not that led to the assignment.

   Professor Byleth asked the class if they could tap into the mundane anima that they saw within the world and create a new spell from it. 

   The spell didn’t have to be something like Meteor, Professor Byleth said and so gave the example of simply learning how to enchant a teacup so its contents would never grow lukewarm. Discussion throughout the classroom also yielded some ideas in vein of what Professor Byleth was trying to convey.

   Lindhardt came up with an idea of a pillow which was always cold. Ferdinand wondered if it were possible to lead a horse to water using this form magic. And Bernie wondered if she could use it to make a form of invisible ink. Professor Byleth applauded all their creativity and said that the homework would no doubt be a delight to mark at the end of the month.

   With all that as inspiration, Dorothea came up with her own idea: she would create a spell which would manipulate when roses bloomed. Seemed easy enough.

  (Wrong)

   She felt drawn to the idea of utilising anima magic and since she was never too far from the rose gardens, of course the fancy tickled. So tada. With a little bit of elbow grease and borrowing some recommendations from the bookworms in the other classes - namely Lysithea and Annette - Dorothea was well on her way to crafting her spell.

   It took her three weeks of research but she did it.

   She dubbed the resulting spell “Virgo” and upon testing it, it worked.

   In the privacy of her room in the dormitories, Dorothea had her set-up ready. She had a vase slender enough to fit only one rose and Dorothea had selected the most premature rose she could find from amongst the bushes. A rosebud days old and shy, the colouration of the petals was a scant peach. Dorothea was certain that with her spell, this rose would bloom and darken in colour.

   Only one way to find out.

   With the assignment due next week, Dorothea was nervous. She really didn’t have the time to scrap this project and start over if it was a failure. She sat in her seat, straight-backed and exhaled nervously. She concentrated on the rose then spoke.

   “Virgo.”

   The name of the spell tingled on her lips as excitement followed the sensation. She watched, eyes widening in gleeful disbelief, was the rose began to mature and bloom. The colour deepened to a warm pink as the rosebud opened, flowering, as Dorothea’s heart raced.

   She squealed, lost in her success. 

   Dorothea plucked the rose from the vase and held it close to her breast. She inhaled its divine scent and savoured the softness of its petals as she nuzzled against it. Anyone would be fortunate to receive it as a gift, a perfect specimen of its species, and anyone would be fortunate to receive it as a gift from Dorothea.

   Though she had no illusions of getting lost in the fleeting reverie.

   Her crush was ill-advised though it would be a dream, nonetheless, to gift that person with roses. The Goddess knows she deserved them and every accolade. In her youth, she was showered with roses in endless flurries at the end of her awe-inducing shows. She would have received plenty of bouquets in her time and so, another rose from an adoring fan would not be special - even if that fan was Dorothea.

   Her feelings would always be cut short and dismissed, Dorothea was well aware.

   Yes, that person Dorothea was thinking of as she held this rose was none other than Manuela Casagranda.

   Dorothea sighed dreamily as she indulged this peculiar and romantic reverie. One in which she was the heroine and Manuela was her love interest, how she had admired her from afar and did her best to blossom into a young woman befitting the diva’s legacy. She was the next generation but she did not believe that the emblem of the near past, of fame and glory turned dulled, could slip through her fingers so quickly. 

   To her, Manuela was very much still in her prime and if only Dorothea could convince her of her worth and beauty that she had at present, not just her glorious and illustrious past. 

   Perhaps a rose would suffice. More likely than not, it would not.

   Dorothea opened her eyes and she inhaled that lovely smell of a fully bloomed rose. Her skin prickled as she had more than just a heart palpitation of the sensations of her crush. She, akin to the rose she was holding, became adorned with thorns.

   Small, tiny thorns, over and up and around her slender arms.

   Dorothea squeaked in horror as she felt it, how they rose from her skin not that differently to hair. She dropped the rose in her fright as she tried to fathom how such a thing could occur, the green-black, hooked pricks of what were undeniably thorns. 

   Her eyes went wide and her heart raced. Dorothea tried to pluck them off herself but they were too sharp. A pearl of blood welled up, round and shiny, on her pointer finger and her heart stopped. That was more than enough to send her into a fit over this.

   Having just pricked from merely attempting a removal of these vile thorns from off her flesh, Dorothea desperately looked around, the rose on the cobblestone pavers of her floor utterly forgotten. Even trampled as she tried to find gloves, tweezers, shears, anything! Surely she had something stashed in her room to help.

   A frantic search did, in fact, yield tweezers.

   Her fingers went fuzzily numb as she carefully removed the thorns one by one from off her arm. There were dozens of them and she collected them on her table, a bead of sweat on her brow as she prayed to the Goddess that this was one time deal. A self-inflicted curse, a fluke, anything. 

   She stared at her pile of now removed thorns. The sight of them disgusted her. Thus, she was quick to get rid of them and throw herself at study. There had to be a way to fix this, even so close to her assignment.

   She didn’t care what it took. Just long as it got her top marks in her assignment. 

   There was no turning back to close to the due date, after all.

   She became convinced that she hadn’t studied properly. That she had missed something. That the manifestation and enchantment had been off somehow. It was just meant to be a small, simple thing but she became so reviled by it, she had to fix it immediately.

   After all, once was an accident and twice was a pattern, isn’t that how it went? Dorothea wasn’t too sure, she wasn’t some scientist like Hanneman or any of the proteges who took after him but she did try again after hitting the books some more. This time, the day before the assignment was due. She tried again and voila.

   No thorns.

   Just a pretty flower where there had been a bud before.

   Crisis averted.

   Or so Dorothea thought.

   Pre-class nerves had Dorothea jittering. Even though she was no stranger to stage fright, this was something else since she had the mixed results from her experiment in the back of her mind. But she was determined - convinced - the second attempt was the real one, not the first one. Nevertheless, she spoke stiltedly through polite small talk with her fellow students as they waited one by one for Professor Byleth to test them. Solo style, just like they would if they were to take a proficiency test to change classes.

   Then Professor Byleth called her name and Dorothea put on her most grandiose smile. She had this. She flicked her hair off her shoulder and forcibly eliminated all nerves from within her.

   “Greetings, Professor.”

   “Dorothea.” Professor Byleth returned her unusually jovial salutations and then arched an eyebrow. “What are you going to present to me for the assignment?”

   “A rose, of course.”

   Dorothea winked at Professor Byleth, who rolled their eyes and simply wrote down “rose” since that was all the information Dorothea had given them so far.

   “Begin when you like.” Professor Byleth told Dorothea once preparations were complete.

   “Thank you, professor.” Dorothea replied and whew.

   She felt nervous again. Even though she was satisfied with her practice. It was fine. It was totally and completely fine. She forcibly shut down thoughts that meandered anywhere near the malfunctions of her spell. She was confident nothing would go wrong as she set up her exhibition.

   Dorothea glanced around the room. The familiar four walls, the boring study materials, the door ajar. She exhaled with confidence as she placed her rose then stepped back.

   She closed her eyes. She visualised the blooming of the red rose, the bud that was swathed tightly in its petals. 

   “Virgo.” Dorothea said and invoked her homebrewed incantation once more.

   For the final time. 

   Thinking that felt good. It emptied her mind and when she opened, the first thing she saw was…

   Manuela.

   She looked past where she had set down her rose in a vase to the hallway. She could only see a snippet of it but she would know that dress anywhere and the accompanying sound of high heels.

   Virgo. Her spell worked but a little too well. The flower bloomed as it should but her arms became spurred with countless, green thorns. She could feel them grow and prick her skin, it was a nauseating feeling, Dorothea thought as she was subject to these horrors once more.

   “Uh, Dorothea…?” Professor Byleth prompted her. “I think it's a good idea if you go see Manuela after class.”

   Dorothea stiffened as she looked over her arms in horror. Sure enough, she had sprouted countless thorns up and down her arms. She could heard the other students outside begin to whisper. Her cheeks burn.

   “And my grade professor?” Dorothea asked, cuttingly, anything to change the subject.

   “Pass. With flying colours, congratulations.” Professor Byleth said. “Now, you are dismissed.”

   “Thank you, professor.” Dorothea said and she could not flee the classroom soon enough.

   She felt embarrassment burn her up from the inside out. Her arms erupted with more spines the more she rotated the awkward moment in which her spell went awry more and more in her mind. She stomped off, in a hurry, down the halls and let her peers speculate.

   She barged into the infirmary with tears in her eyes, “Manuela, I need help.” she announced.

   Manuela could have jumped out of her skin but she was quick to act. She was nothing if not professional when she was alert and sober. Even if she hadn’t been expecting a student. It was fortunate that she had been headed back from a stock re-supply at the markets when she had walked past Professor Byleth’s classroom enroute to her infirmary.

   “With what- oh.” Manuela’s expression went from one extreme, confusion,  to the opposite, of complete benevolence.

   She directed Dorothea to a bed and Dorothea accepted. It looked soft and like the perfect place to sulk whilst Manuela got ready to treat her patient. Thorns! How very unusual yet quite fitting for a splendid rose like Dorothea, how very curious.

   And just one in quite a lot string of incidents, actually.

   Manuela sighed as she fussed around, “I’m not surprised to see you in my infirmary, Dorothea. Seems a lot of the Black Eagles have made it into my midsts as of late. I’ll have to have a word with Professor Byleth about this assignment…”

   “Y-Yeah…” Dorothea quietly agreed, chewing on the syllables of her slang.

   She felt like a child. A silly, stupid child and she hated it. She tucked her knees under her chin as she sat in the bed, upright in the foetal position, back to the wall. Her arms were taut as she hugged herself, the spines of the thorns on prominent display as her skin prickled around them in embarrassment.

   “I’ve seen Caspar, Ferdinand, Linhardt, and even Bernadetta recently.” Manuela nattered. “So, suffice to say, this experiment is a failure.”

   She continued to busy herself with choosing ingredients for the salve she wanted to make. Dorothea watched, her cheeks hot. This was not where she wanted to be right now. She’d had her fair share of doctor-patient fantasies involving Manuela and they most certainly did not involve being in actual pain.

   “There we go, not long now, I’m almost ready, thank you for your patience, Dorothea.” Manuela said as she began to grind something into a paste using her mortar and pestle.

   “No problem.” Dorothea replied through gritted teeth. She winced every time there was a loud sound.

   Manuela turned around and tada. She had a freshly made… something. Dorothea couldn’t begin to identify it - eye of newt, perhaps? - but it smelt foul and had to be applied directly to her arms, that much was for sure.

   “It’ll only sting a bit.” Manuela lied.

   Dorothea hazarded a smile and allowed herself to be painted with the goop. She opened up, sat properly on the bed rather than like a petulant egg then offered her arm up to Manuela. She was at the ready with a brush as she held the mortar in her other hand.

   Inside the mortar was the salve. It was somewhere between grey and green in colour with a crunchy look to it. Manuela gave it a final swish with her brush and then applied it to Dorothea. It was cold the way peppermint was cold, with a spicy twinge beneath that frozen snap. It left a burning after-effect in its downward wake as Manuela painted her but Dorothea didn’t complain. She had experienced worse than a little sting.

   “You're handling this well.” Manuela observed and she glanced up at Dorothea who bore the stormy pout of an adolescent younger than she was. Manuela sighed. “Which leads me to believe that this is not your first time discovering this side effect of your spell.”

   There was a pause before Dorothea finally nodded and admitted, “Yes, this isn’t the first time.”

   “I thought so.” Manuela replied, understanding. Her brushwork was immaculate, swooping in and out around the various thorns.

   “Plucking them out didn’t work, quite clearly.” Dorothea cursed herself.

   “It happens.” Manuela consoled her. “Did you at least get a good grade, was it worth it?”

   “I did actually.” Dorothea replied, perking up slightly. Though that only answered half of Manuela’s question.

   Manuela hummed thoughtfully and Dorothea let her finish. 

   She used up all the paste that she had made. She used half of it on Dorothea’s first arm and the other half on the second. Manuela was delicate as she made sure that not an inch of Dorothea’s skin was bare by the end of it. Though the paste did dry in and magically disappear afterwards, taking the thorns with them. The thorns shrivelled up and fell away before disintegrating.

   “There we go.” Manuela said at the end of a job well done.

   It had even begun to put a smile on Dorothea’s lips again, “Thank you, Manuela.”

   “You're welcome.” Manuela replied.

   Dorothea flashed a smile and she began to get restless. She had been fondled up and down her arms by Manuela for the past half an hour or so, and she was still feeling overly dramatic over the error of her spell so she was ready to go. She tried to get up but Manuela reached out and stopped her. Gently. So that her fingers slipped over Dorothea’s smooth, dinless arms. Neither hair nor thorn on them, now.

   Just the crinkle of the paste.

   “Hold it, missy.” Manuela warned her.

   “What?” Dorothea asked.

   Manuela frowned, “Don’t sass me.” she scolded Dorothea. “My word, something has gotten into you today. I suspect it's more than just your homework.”

   “Sorry…” Dorothea mumbled.

   “I need to know for future reference, should another student’s spell go awry like this… What was the trigger?” Manuela asked. “I can take a few educated guesses but I would like to confirm my hunch.”

   Dorothea felt a flicker of lightning through her: the retribution of the Goddess, she would think. It made her stiffen and her heart stop. And Manuela noticed all of her micro-reactions.

   “Well, you know… The usual stressors.” Dorothea replied, inelegantly dancing around the truth but not outright lying.

   “Uh-huh…” Manuela chewed on her reply.

   “Roses are, of course, quite symbolically loaded.” Dorothea replied. 

   Manuela’s brown eyes were discerning. Her countenance turned severe. She was always in opposition of Dorothea as a figure of authority and yet, that’s what Dorothea found attractive. Right up until she was reminded that she was just a subject below Manuela, feelings entirely one-sided. Her mouth dried and she absent-mindedly scratched her arms, still feeling where the paste was and where the thorns had once grown.

   She could almost feel them grow once more but Manuela’s balm was too good for her. She was cured now.

   “It might be that thinking about a certain someone… The ideas get crossed and the spell backfires.” Dorothea explained.

   Her voice trailed off and Manuela’s expression softened. She smiled, delighted. Though delighted like only a gossip could be delighted.

   “Well?” Manuela asked. “Who’s the lucky guy?” Then she blinked, embarrassed because she had put her foot in her mouth. “Or… girl. I know you are, uh, inclined both ways.”

   Dorothea felt her stomach squirm and her palms sweat. This was not how she had imagined this moment going. Sure, it happened in the infirmary sometimes in her daydreams and other times, it did involve plentiful amounts of roses but this reality was far too awkward and flat.

   Yet confess was exactly what she did.

   “You.” Dorothea murmured.

   “Uh… pardon?” Manuela malfunctioned. “Come again?”

   “I said. You.” Dorothea kept her voice down but her repetition was louder than a murmur.

   Repeating her confession out loud, however, still did not compute with Manuela as Dorothea found herself blushing rose red. Her heart was beating hard and fast, like she had just completed a solo for an audience of a thousand and yet. It was just Manuela who was somewhere between refusing to listen and refusing to believe that it were possible for someone like Dorothea to hold a candle for her.

   But it was.

   It really was.

   Dorothea admired Manuela with all her heart and soul. Her beautiful voice, her quaffed hair, her angular cheekbones, the way she felt like home no matter the scene or stage, whether it was the opera or the academy or the infirmary. She truly meant the world and more to Dorothea. How was she to not fall in love with such a woman, a force of nature if only she could see?

   “Please.” Dorothea insisted with eyes which were welling up with tears.

   “I know.” Manuela sighed wearily. “I would be lying if I said I hadn’t been there, done that. Pined for someone older than me and trust me, my sweet, it is a path that doesn’t end well for either of them.”

   She reached out her hand and caressed Dorothea’s face. She felt sparks in the pads of Manuela’s fingertips. She was so soft and gentle and ultimately, bittersweet. As was the expression which tugged on Manuela’s made-up face. Dorothea remained pleading and petulant, however, resistant to the wisdom that Manuela felt and was trying to bestow upon her as the closest reward she could get for bravely confessing her feelings.

   “I’m sorry,” Manuela told her, “I don’t feel the same way but just know, you would be good fortune to anyone to have, rich or poor, old or young, male or female. Please, my dear, keep looking, you will find someone who deserves you.”

   Manuela leaned in and pressed a familial kiss onto the middle of Dorothea’s forehead. Through her lips and lipstick, Manuela could feel the throb of Dorothea’s pulse and practically taste all the thoughts running through her head. She held Dorothea’s face steady.

  “I understand, Professor.” Dorothea replied brusquely, her heart broken.

   “I’m glad,” Manuela whispered as she pulled back, she felt a ribbon of Dorothea’s tears slide down over her hand as she cupped Dorothea’s cheek, “now be good, stay out of mischief, and keep on top of your studies. I don’t want to see any more thorns marring you.”

   “Understood.” Dorothea said.

   She shifted and squirmed, and Manuela kept her hand in place until Dorothea finally slipped away. The warmth of her was fleeting, turning to cold. Even Dorothea could feel the ice that she was exuding and as she stood up, she rubbed her hands up and down her arms.  As though she, too, were cold. Her bare arms felt cakey underneath her palms but it was just the after sensation. The paste that it had absorbed yet smooth as no longer was she prickly with thorns.

   “See you later, Dorothea.” Manuela called out to her as she began to leave.

   Dorothea turned around, at least briefly, to nod in acknowledgement of Manuela telling her goodbye but that was it. She excused herself wordlessly, feeling like a trampled rose.