stellmaris

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Attack for @dpsisquared of regency era dimileth in art nouveau style. Two of my favorite things combined with dimileth was critical hit for me, so I had lots of fun drawing this. :) Bonus info:

-Moon phases for Azure moon

-Cyclamens, because it symbolizes strength against adversity, love and devotion in my culture

-Plus legendary weapons -It should have been obvious, but I'd never realized that Dimitri's clothing seems to actually correspond to azure blue color codes

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sparring

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my doomed by the narrative blorbos

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Post-battle Dimileth for FE Art Scuffle :)

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Body's poison

art by @gritpyre

Byleth is not stupid. Every moment of every battle is etched in her mind, all outcomes, all the deaths of her beloved students she has witnessed and reversed. 

It’s worse, when fate doesn’t allow her students to be safe. 

The first time, she is too busy trying to distract a soldier from hacking into Annette that she misses the arrow aimed straight at Dimitri. It pierces his blinded eye, boring straight into his skull. He is dead before he hits the ground, the squelching sound burrowing deep into her mind. His good eye is forever stuck in an expression of pure shock. 

A heartbeat later, she is just in time to incinerate the arrow before it can bring an end to Dimitri’s blinding revenge. If she singes some blond strands, she doesn’t notice, her attention back on Annette. 

If he looks at her, for just another heartbeat, trying to grasp the unfamiliar feeling of having his blind side shielded. Of having a deadly mistake not having been his last. He remains unaware of the timeline in which his twitching corpse joins the other fallen. 

Byleth learned early not to waste her godly pulses on non-fatal injuries. When her carelessness left her unable to erase the failed protection of her father. Still, she tries to notice them all, tries to keep track of her house, her team, and their limits. 

She feels their injuries like they’re her own. It helps her make sure to see them all in the medical tent, under the care of Mercedes and Flayn. 

So, it doesn’t escape her when an eager enemy soldier strikes at Dimitri’s torso, slicing into his side with a quick sword. The very next second, the soldier's headless corpse collapses in a heap. Dimitri doesn’t even flinch, and Byleth saves her pulses. 

It’s only when, two days later, he still hasn’t shown his face at the healer's tent. Flayn offered that maybe he knew his own healing spells, but Byleth knows her student enough to be sure in her denial. 

Even five years ago, he had to be convinced and then dragged to Manuela‘s office, uncaring of his own health. Byleth can’t imagine the past five years have done anything to change that. 

When Byleth finds him sitting down in the cathedral, a faint flush on his face, leaning against the rubble, like when she first stumbled across him, she wastes no time. 

Arms crossed, she builds herself up in front of him, pointedly ignoring his scowl. „Care to explain why you haven’t gotten your wounds treated yet?“

Dimitri bares his teeth like a hound. „Shut up. You’re wasting my time.“

„Wasting your time doing what exactly? Festering a nice infection?“ 

Byleth is no fool. She has seen her fair share of men thought invincible survive dozens of battles only to succumb to their own body‘s poison. She couldn’t reverse time back then, and even now, she doubts her powers are enough to intervene before an infection starts ravaging her beloveds. 

This is exactly why Dimitri‘s uncaring attitude makes her want to jump and strangle him. His shocked face, his last pained breath escaping his mouth, is still all too fresh in her mind. 

„What can I do to be rid of you. You’re like a disgusting leech sticking to me.“ He spits out. Byleth pretends it doesn’t hurt. 

Instead, fast enough that he doesn’t catch her before she is done, she brings up a hand to his forehead, feeling his fever heat her skin, sticky with sweat. 

Dimitri grabs her hand with enough strength to make her joints creak painfully. „What the fuck do you think you are doing?!“ he almost barks, wrenching her arm down, bringing her to her knees. 

Distantly, Byleth knows he is holding back, though he pretends not to. The fact that her bones are not pulverised is telling her as much. He looks like he realises it too, and the knowledge irks him.

She is on eye level with him now.

„Break my wrist all you want, it won’t change that you have a fever that needs addressing.“ 

Byleth holds his intense stare, unwaveringly, challenging him. He may intimidate soldiers and allies alike, but she refuses to falter. 

„Strike me down then, if my being brings you so much disgust. We both know you won’t.“

Dimitri growls in frustration, strengthening his painful grip around her wrist. When she doesn’t flinch, he lets go in a huff. His eye lingers on the red palm-shaped imprint around her wrist. He doesn’t offer an apology, and Byleth doesn’t comment. 

„You got struck during battle, badly, you’re weak, and you have a fever. That’s as gracious of a warning as an infection gives you. Or would you prefer waiting until you are bed-bound?“

„Do you fool really think this is my first infection? I am well aware of its signs and yet I survived them without your bothering on my side. What makes you think it is any different now?“ 

That, that stings. Byleth tries not to let her thoughts stray too close to how she left her students alone when they most needed her. It only distracts her from moving forward now, making amends now. From his mouth, it sounds like betrayal. She would agree. 

„And I thank the Goddess every day that you were not ravished. But I am here now, and I will not leave until your wound is taken care of. Do you really want to risk withering at the hands of sickness before you even set foot into the imperial capital? I didn’t think your wish for revenge was second to your ego.“ 

It’s a low blow, but it works. Finally, Dimitri relents, turning his head away from her. She doesn’t think he truly looked at her, ever since he reminded her of her disappearance. 

„Fine“, he growls. „Go on then. Heal.“ 

Maybe it’s his last attempt at chasing her away, to refuse to have the Healers do it, to have her do the work. Maybe, though, maybe it’s a plea. 

„Not without looking at the wound first. It would do no good to close the skin and trap debris in it. So, take off your armour.“

If the One-Eyed-Demon‘s feverish flush deepens at her words, Byleth doesn’t notice. Neither does she notice his shaking hands as he reaches to unclasp his cape, then the rest of his suit. 

His undergarments are torn and soaked in blood. She orders him to take that off too. Then the wound is revealed. Byleth hisses through her teeth, all her focus honing in on determining the severity. Thankfully, the sword missed his lungs, yet the slash tore deep into his flesh.

The wound is bright red, swollen and leaking, but she can’t discern any dirt or debris. „You cleaned the wound“, she remarks in surprise.

Dimitri doesn’t meet her eyes. „It seems it was in vain anyway.“ 

She can feel his skin throb under her touch as she lays her hands over the wound, speaking a prayer and feeling the warm white magic flow through her veins.

Finally, taken in by the gentle warmth of healing settling deep into his flesh, Dimitri sighs. He doesn’t truly relax –he never does– yet he seems to loosen a bit, allowing his face to show signs of pain. 

Slowly, the redness recedes, and his eye closes in exhaustion. Not for the first time, Byleth yearns for his softness to return. It hurts the most when she can see his old love ghost over his actions, only for him to swallow it back down. 

His brashness simply conceals the loneliness and the terror of the hunt. It’s glaringly obvious to her in these moments, where he loses grip of his harsh exterior. 

But just as quickly as she notices them, he reins himself back in. With the last bit of magic stitching the gash back together, tethering flesh to flesh, he steels himself again, posture rigid.

Wordlessly, he puts his armour back on, never minding the blood. Byleth doesn’t bother telling him to get a clean one. 

She is exhausted, from healing, from the battle, from worrying. From seeing her friends die. Dimitri doesn’t meet her gaze, his lone blue eye covered behind dirty blond hair.

Byleth doesn’t dare hope. When she leaves, lost for words, she is only followed by a hoarse, mumbled Thank you, Professor.

Left behind is the One-Eyed-Demon, trying and failing to understand why the voices of the dead were silenced under his Professor’s careful touch.

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The Gripping

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"What's that look for?"

"The plan was perfect you did your part, but I should have gotten there sooner to protect you."

"Nothing's perfect. The world's not perfect. But it's there for us, trying the best it can. That's what makes it so damn beautiful."

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💚⚔️

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you ever start a drawing without properly planning out the composition and then have to sort of make everything up as you go including the color scheme and lighting situation? yeah Do Not Do This I started this drawing back in DECEMBER. anyway, femblem. which route was your favorite?

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Apex of the World

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Hot Abyss Summer

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Its still a wip because im way too scared to color it, but i will finish this thing.... Hopefully (⁠๑⁠•⁠﹏⁠•⁠)

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Kiddies

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Annette and Felix, playing with some kittens. FE scuffle attack for amarillosworld.

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@/uluchi_rice: 浮かれポンチであれ

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✨ Fullmetal Alchemist Starter Pack ✨

Eeeee I made stickers ✨