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TRAICIO: an indie, private & selective multimuse roleplay blog for characters from the Fire Emblem Series, including Engage, SoV, Cipher & Awakening. Written by Aster ( 23, he/him )

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me, about to add to my muse list when i realise it needs tidying: ah. uh. um. hm.

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I need you. Alear can’t help the thought that enters their mind. No, not now; that isn’t what Diamant needs. Diamant needs something solid, something to hold onto as the rapids of life threaten to swallow him. They could do that. They could be strong for him.

“I know. I know the toll this war takes on you.” On Diamant in particular, who fights against his home and his own people. His father, in particular. They won’t ever mention his father, not without Diamant bringing it up first.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked you to switch sides for me.” But then, could they have fought him? Put against him on the battlefield, would they have been able to kill him? No. It was a selfish request. They’ve put Diamant in an awful position, choosing between Alear and Brodia. “But I can’t lose you.” It’s a fear they can’t shake.

They’d understand if he left tomorrow, even if it hurt. They turn around, pressing their back to Diamant’s torso. They want to be close to him too, to feel his skin against their own. It’s comforting. They could fall asleep against him right now, wrapped in the warmth of the water and the sweet-smelling bath salts.

Diamant looks tired, that sort of bone-weary exhaustion that is barely holding him up. Of course, Alear worries. As always, he's working far too hard. As always, there's no stopping him. All Alear can do is be there for him.

"I can help you not think about it." Because he deserves a rest. He deserves to pretend there is no world outside of the warm bubble they've created together, just for a little while. They both do, really.

"I could give you a massage," Alear says. They're no expert, and it's not solely an excuse to touch him. He looks like he needs it. He looks like he needs far more than that, but proper rest is so hard to come by these days. There's room for little else beyond the war efforts and perhaps falling asleep afterwards. Yet they still found time for each other, somehow.

"Tell me what you need, Diamant, and I'll do it." More than anything, they just want to help.

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peeks in?

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as we go into the new year, i'm also going to make changes

first change? i'm culling some of my muse list and re-implementing the secret menu. the secret menu is for close friends only. basically if we talk regularly, you can ask for anyone on the secret menu. if we already have threads with someone from the secret menu, we're good to carry on! (i should tidy it. i do not care to. lol)

secondly, i have officially added Will, Louis and Basilio to the main menu. perhaps others on the secret menu. we'll see how long they last because i'm already annoying and picky about this game, sorry! (maybe i should stick to fic. heh.)

i am determined to make indie work. i will keep trying to make indie work for me. even if that means writing with just 4 people, i do not care, so long as writing is finally happening. i'm gonna be choosier with people. it's a slog to log in when people don't reply to threads ever. LOL

anyway that's all! happy new year my friends

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He's surprised Yuri doesn't back down. Claude realises now that he shouldn't be surprised; he walked right into Yuri's trap. He can't imagine what kind of ploy this is. He doesn't know what Yuri wants, what he truly wants. Maybe all he wants is a kiss. Maybe all he wants is one night together. Maybe he wants everything.

Claude feels like he's playing with a losing hand. That's never stopped him from playing before, however. And right now, he wants to play.

How far will they go, he wonders. How far can Claude push? How far does he want to push? Yuri certainly doesn't seem to hesitate. Claude's overthinking will be the death of him.

He's glad the library is deserted at the moment; he'd rather not explain what he wants to do to Yuri. His arms move to snake around Yuri's body, until he has a good enough grip on him to flip their positions. Now, Yuri is pressed against the table. He pulls away from the kiss, just for a moment, to whisper.

"There, isn't this much better?" Now he's really expecting Yuri to squirm away.

They're so close now, and there's no choice but to make a bold move: Leave or give in. Shut him down, or give in to the game they've been playing with each other for ages now. Yuri knows what he'd prefer, but he isn't in the habit for forcing people to do something they aren't comfortable with - well, except the people he's killed, they were likely not comfortable with their lives ending prematurely. So he waits, eyes half lidded while he watches the gears turn in Claude's head.

And yes, he had hoped for this, even if he would have played it off as nothing had Claude pushed him away. He doesn't, though, he grabs Yuri's hips and finally lets their lips touch, and it's enough to know that Claude gave in first. It's a small win, barely a win, but Yuri takes his wins where he can, especially when the other player is something as clever as Claude.

He's almost sly in how he kisses him, a fluid motion from the brush of lips to the parting of them, years of training in this department helping him know how to make smooth work of something as simple as a kiss.

But maybe it isn't quite so simple. Yuri's had enough intimate partners to know when it's meaningless and when it isn't - it always is, it's always about power and control and getting what you want - but there's something he rather enjoys about the slide of Claude's lips against his own, and not just because it physically feels good.

He can't think about that, though, decided he'll never think about it, and instead presses in close, their bodies flush, waiting to see how this plays out.

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It's getting increasingly hard to log in here orz

You know what's demoralising? Putting in effort to plot stuff (which if you know me, it's a struggle to get my ideas out there to another human being and not to the void). Writing stuff. And then constantly not getting a reply to those threads or whatever. I'm not saying just once or twice because that's fine, but I mean all the time. Always. I am tired of it

For the people who do actually reply to threads. Thank you. You're the only reasons I still log into this account because I am so fucking sick of writing at people rather than with people

I'm gonna keep trying to get the replies to threads I owe out BC. Well. I know people actually wanna write with me. I'm patient when it comes to replies but I can't handle consistently not getting replies ever. I've hit my limit on how many times I can let my writing go ignored

And this is why I prefer my group BC damn it all even if replying there makes me anxious (BC conveying my ideas to another human being is terrifying), at least people are interested in writing with other people and other people's characters rather than writing at a brick wall

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Does anyone else feel massive amounts of shame and embarrassment when asked to share like character thoughts or hcs or hell even plot ideas or is it just me haha 😳

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comes in. kicks down the door

THE FUCK YOU MEAN CYNTHIA IS CANONICALLY A CHICK MAGNET AND I'VE NEVER NOTICED THIS BEFORE

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rereading old Claude posts (circa 2022) like.... damn he's a funny guy who wrote this (me i did)

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If I had a nickel for every time I assigned a very specific album to some gay ass archer boy I'd have two nickels which isn't much but it's weird it happened twice

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Sometimes I think of my silly awakening second gen oc and I just

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"I wish we'd have more time." (Robin @ Chrom, before that final battle when she's dead set on sacrificing herself 8D)

for some meme idr lmao

After speaking to Naga, Chrom and Robin sat together in silence for a while. Chrom doesn’t know what to say. He knows what Robin wants to do. Chrom is being selfish. He doesn’t want her to sacrifice herself. He knows, were the positions reversed, that he would lay down his life for Ylisse. For his home. For everyone he loves.

He can’t ask Robin to do that. He can’t ask her to even take that chance. He knows she won’t listen, so he doesn’t say anything. He sits, elbows on his knees, hands loosely clasped together. He wants to beg her not to do this, he wants to ask her to leave it to him: after all, as the Exalt, is this not his job? Isn’t he supposed to perform the difficult tasks for the home and people he adores? Before he can, she speaks.

“And we will.” His hands tighten their grip. “I won’t let you do this. I won’t let you die, Robin. Too many people have died already; I won’t count you among the dead.” He doesn’t know how he’ll do it. Perhaps he can get Frederick to grab her when the time comes. He needs to be faster than her. Smarter. To outwit the tactician - heh, what a feat that would be.

“When this is over, we will have all the time in the world. I promise you.” This is a promise Chrom will keep, no matter what it takes.

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It's late when Lucina begins grabbing the pillows and blankets from her and Cynthia's bed before the other woman can settle into it. "C'mon, let's go sit by the tree downstairs for a bit." She speaks quietly, as if anyone can hear her through the stone walls, but there's something exciting about the conspiratorial nature of something so simple and entirely nothing that would break any rules.

Arms laden with blankets, she stops by the linen closet to snag a few more - just because they've slept in uncomfortable places before doesn't mean they have to make the floor of the main hall uncomfortable - before setting off downstairs with Cynthia close by. "Do you want to see if a cook is still up to make us cocoa?" She's never made it herself before, given that such ingredients were difficult to find in their future and that she's never learned since coming here. Perhaps that's ridiculous, and perhaps she should learn now that they have the time and energy to spare for it.

But that can wait. Tonight, she wants to spend time with Cynthia downstairs, a different sort of camping than usual. A fire in a hearth, comfortable bedding, and no monsters to worry about.

Cynthia was about to settle onto the pillows when it was snatched under her. “Oof,” she huffs as her head hits the mattress. It takes her a second, in her disoriented state, to understand what Lucina is asking of her. “Oh, uh, sure?” So maybe she’s a little lost on why, but hey, Lucina wants to do something dumb. Cynthia loves dumb stuff. She’s gone along with plenty of Cynthia’s dumb ideas, so Cynthia’s happy to go along with it.

She decides to help Lucina grab more pillows and blankets - it’s not because Lucina isn’t strong enough, but rather because the more the better, right? She’s still a little confused, but she goes along with it.

“I’m always up for cocoa,” she says. Something warm to hold onto by the fire? Of course she’s going to say yes.

This whole thing feels quite indulgent; they’ve spent so long living in squalor. Thick blankets, soft pillows, and hot cocoa - these are luxuries they couldn’t even dream of during the darkest time of their lives. It’s surreal to think about it. They can have their happily ever after together. It’s the stuff girls like her dream about, and that dream is now a reality.

Or maybe Cynthia is being silly.

She arranges the pillows and blankets by the hearth. From here, one could look at the Christmas tree, covered head to toe in garlands, tinsel, and baubles. It’s just the start of a happier time for them, a sign of things to come. It brings her peace to look at it. Maybe the worst really is over.

Once they get their cocoa, they settle into the mess of pillows and blankets. Cynthia leans her head on Lucina’s shoulder, mug in hand. It’s warm and comfortable, and she never wants to leave the space they’ve created. She never wants to leave the warmth, and the comfort. She wants to stay with Lucina, no matter what. This better life, this better world, that they’ve created together.

“This is nice,” she mumbles. “But I don’t think I’m gonna get up in the morning.”

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Lorenz's hands are warm as they smooth down her sides and hips, peeling away what few layers remain covering her. Despite the heat she feels in her cheeks, against his palms, and in the air between them, a shiver runs down her spine as she seeks to cover herself from his eyes, flushing deeply as she tries to hide her hardening nipples, and the dark patch of hair between her legs. She doesn't have enough hands, though, and, in truth, she doesn't want to turn back from here.

He has been nothing but patient and kind with her, ensuring she knows that he means what he says when he calls her beautiful and intelligent and fascinating. He doesn't demean her, he isn't trying to lull her into a false sense of security; he has only ever been honest. It's why she trusts him to be with her like this - even if tears sting her eyes simply from how hard she is blushing.

With gentle touches from him, she lowers her hands and lets him see her entirely. Naked. Nothing hidden from him. Scars from battle have seared her skin and left raised white lines in their wake, small ones amidst a couple of larger ones that snake from her stomach to her hip and down her leg. They are leftovers from the war, but she wonders if he would find them hideous, if he has managed to keep his own flesh from being so injured.

And yet, if he cares, she has come to learn that he would not deserve her affection nor her attention. It's something she is still trying to internalize, but he has helped her to realize better her self-worth. And so, she takes his wrist between her fingers and brings it to rest upon her breast, the mere action causing her to tremble, still only from embarrassment. She wants this, though. She wants him. And so, she lowers her last remaining defenses and gives herself to him.

Lorenz wants this so terribly, so deeply, but he would never force her to do this with him. If she has any desire to further their relationship, it should be on her terms, no matter how much he needs her. He can be patient for her, and he will be, for as long as she needs.

When they begin, he expects Marianne to stop. As disappointed as he would be, he won't press her. She covers herself, and he braces himself for gentle rejection. He can swallow his frustration for her, assure her it's alright, and he can excuse himself later to take care of business.

But she doesn't back down. She pushes forward, and Lorenz can see Marianne - all of Marianne. He gasps softly, marvelling at her flesh. She's beautiful. Her body is a canvas, marked by the life she's lived. It's a reminder that the war affected her, too. She had fought, too. Try as he may, Lorenz's skin is also scarred; he will tell anyone else that his skin is unmarred, but Marianne will see the truth.

He can’t help but marvel at her. She’s beautiful, not only physically, but her spirit, too. She’s brave enough to finally, finally let go for him. Yet as much as he has thought about this and fantasised about this, he finds himself frozen, transfixed by her. It’s Marinne who takes charge. It’s Marianne who takes his hand and allows him to touch her. Her skin is warm and soft, and he squeezes it gently. It feels just as he had always imagined.

“Marianne,” he whispers, brushing his thumb over her hardened nipple. He wishes he could write a poem even half as wonderful as she is; he will never find the words to properly describe her or this moment.

His other hand traces down her side, down to her leg, and stops at her upper thigh. He’s lost in all the possibilities, all the things he wants to do for her. He plants a kiss to her clavicle, before planting soft kisses in a trail, moving lower and lower down her torso.

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👤 To Cynthia, the bright and valiant hero removed from her own time! Thoughts on Captain Grump, a.k.a. Alpin?

Send me 👤+ a character name for my muse’s opinion on that character ; accepting

Cynthia feels weirdly naked without her armour. However, what kind of pegasus knight goes out to fight without the light gleaming just right from her armour? Not Cynthia, that’s for sure. She wipes away grime, humming as she goes.

“Captain Grump? Ooh, right, Alpin.” Heh, the name’s catching on. He probably hates it. Oh well, if he wasn’t so grumpy, he wouldn’t get a nickname. Really, it’s his fault.

“I mean, he’s okay. You wouldn’t believe he’s our age with how serious he is.” Plus, he looks older, but she’s sure that’s just because of the pale hair. “He’s not a bad guy, but I think with everything that happened…”

Cynthia frowns. It’s hard to forget the apocalypse. Though for Alpin, he saw things from a different angle. He has lived on another side of the apocalypse. Really, she can’t imagine what he’s done, what he’s seen. That grief, that trauma, it manifests differently in everyone. Some people closed off, like Gerome and Severa. Some coped differently, like Owain and Cynthia do.

“I think he’s got a lot of walls up. And I don’t blame him, you know? I mean, I’d also have my walls up if I grew up even half the way he did.” Cynthia recognises she’s lucky, despite everything. She’s not blind to it. “But I’m worried about him. He’s one of us, but I don’t know if he sees it that way. He seems so far away all the time. Maybe he’s worried about letting us in.”

She looks down at her armour, her image blinking back at her. It’s not quite the same, pinched and stretched where the armour bends.

“I wish he trusted us a little more.” But then, he didn’t grow up with them. He doesn’t have the bond that a lot of them do with each other. Why would he trust near-strangers for anything beyond his own safety? “I want him to know that we’re here for him, too. That he’s got someone watching his back. I dunno, am I thinking too much about it? Am I being silly?”

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👤 To the merry band of Abyss adolescents! Opinions on Forwin the songster among your number?

Send me 👤+ a character name for my muse’s opinion on that character ; accepting

“What’s with the census?” Yuri asks their new guest, who sputters something about bullying at the academy.

“Bullying? C’mon, you think we bully that guy?” Balthus asks.

“Well, Coco might. Nothing says ‘good classmates’ like using the poor guy as a guinea pig,” Hapi adds.

“It is not bullying if Forwin is willing. In fact, he was very eager to help.”

Yuri shakes his head. He’s not going to tell Constance the truth - that’s not his problem. It also won’t be his problem when she fries Forwin alive when she realises who he is. This is their mess; Yuri has far more important things to worry about.

“It’s Abyss. We’re not standing around, holding hands and singing happy songs about our feelings. But we take care of our own down here, and we don’t bully people.” Yuri sits his hand on his hip. “Forwin’s a good kid. He’s that kind of naive that people can really get along with down here.” Especially the light-fingered folk of Abyss. Okay, so maybe there’s a little bullying, but that’s what you get when you decide to flee to the underground.

“He’s a real talented singer,” Balthus adds. “Got the voice of an angel. It’s a damn shame to keep talented folks locked up down here, but that’s life. Guess the world’s just scared of skilled guys like us and the world’s gotta lock us down, huh?”

“Balthus,” Yuri sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“What? It’s true.” A shrug. “Anyway yeah, I gotta agree with Yuri. He’s got that air of ‘kicked puppy’, if you know what I mean. Shy, quiet, that kinda vibe. Betcha he’s hiding ‘round here somewhere, in fact.”

It is a little weird he isn’t around the other Wolves at the moment, come to think of it. Maybe he’s doing something for the professor.

“I know exactly what you mean, B. Winnie’s awkward. But, I dunno, it’s kinda cute - exactly like a puppy.” Hapi taps a finger to her chin. “Whatever, he’s quiet, and he leaves me alone. I don’t know what else you could ask for in a guy.”

“Oh? Is our Hapi falling in love?” Constance asks with a sly smile.

“Gross. I didn’t mean it like that. He’s just… not annoying.” And it’s true; she doesn’t see him that way. He’s a nice enough guy, and she’s not looking for anything beyond friendship. Still, if she did have to pick someone in this dump to live happily ever after with, yes, it would be Forwin.

“As for me, I do think Forwin is a very useful test subject. He’s always been willing to do as I ask.” If Constance thought beyond her experiments, she might have asked herself, why has Forwin always been so willing to help her? Why does he always look so guilty when she approaches him? She doesn’t think about it, because none of that matters when she has a new spell that will simply dazzle everyone - she has to test it on Forwin first, though.

“‘Cause he’s a doormat,” Hapi says.

“Don’t be rude! He simply understands the value of my work.” Constance huffs. “Regardless, I would say he’s an intelligent and kind soul. One day, once my house is restored, I will find a way to repay him for his aid in restoring Nuvelle.”

Yuri snorts. No one notices.

“So you see, everything’s all fine down here. Are we done?” Yuri asks. “As you can see, we all adore our little Forwin.” He says it as a joke, but it’s not far from the truth; he’s just never been good with sincere emotion.