#i had references but it's probably the best hands i've done yet

[nessa-rpgs]

Kal, for @vodka-and-ocs

I had fun drawing him :D

[fyeahaudiodrama]

Happy @podcastgirlsweek to all who celebrate! While I haven't had the time to properly work on fics (and probably won't this week because oops, hurt my hands yesterday) I still wanted to take the time to highlight some favorite podcast girlies along with everyone else!

The prompt for Monday is highlighting podcasts with women in the leading roles, so here's a few of mine (and hopefully, some new ones of yours if you don't know them yet):

Back Again, Back Again: Ilyaas, you absolutely fantastic disaster of a fantasy ace, never stop trying.

Breathing Space: While the show is anthology with a rotating cast, some of my favorites from across its run include:

Evie Yuriskin

Amity Archer

Any characters who were introduced one episode and then started referring to each other as "my wife" by the end or by their next appearance

Camlann: Some apocalypse survivors interpret dangerous dreams about dark magic to cope. Some knit sweaters. Both are valid and should kiss.

City of Ghosts: Featuring the grungy, disgruntled, tormented-by-visions LADY detective of your dreams.

Desperado: Take note - give your ladies knives. And god powers. And witchcraft. And a sniper rifle, for good measure.

Do You Copy?: I think [REDACTED] deserves three weeks of paid vacation

Fawx & Stallion: Madge Stallion is THE moment. She's six feet tall. She can't stop making innuendos. She's not your fucking Mrs. Hudson (although, she is - no, I shan't say).

Hi Nay: Mari & Laura are my everything - the loving and self-sacrificing hero and the newfound friend who chooses to stand by her side (fire axe and all).

Inn Between: Oh, my Inn Between girlies, where do I start? Fina and Betty, the OGs and life partners that even death couldn't stall? Rosie and Zara, the new best pals who chose to stay together? Phoebe, just one step at a time learning what she deserves and what she doesn't? All impeccable, A+.

It Makes A Sound: Any show focused on music is going to be a slam dunk for me, but Deirdre's quest to reclaim her memories as well as those that tied her to her mother is so damn real and compelling.

The Kingmaker Histories: No female character in this show has ever done anything wrong. Colette gets a migraine pass. Ariadne can turn people inside out. Daphne is owed this for working in a theme park.

Life With LEO(h): Janiiiiiine, so messy and smart and dedicated and she cares so much, I love yoooooou.

Me and AU: Kate's worries and desires and doubts are some of the realest out of any audio drama so when do I find an Ella too

Palimpsest: My faaaaavorite gothic horror anthology, each one fresh with a different brand of haunted, tormented, secret-keeping (and quite frequently gay) gothic protagonist

The Pasithea Powder: Jane and Sophie. Sophie and Jane. What more could you need? <3

The Silt Verses: Women who start cults/leave cults/seek an end to the endless cycle of meaningless sacrifice as so valid. For all your wet cat(fish) woman needs.

Second Star to the Left: Because I always love a good Ishani performance. Hi Gwen, please tell Boots I love them.

Small Victories: You want sad wet cat women? How about one that literally can't stop self-sabotaging (but at least manages to draw the line at sabotaging others...occasionally). She even gets stabbed!

Starfall: I mean, kind of a given, but anyway, Leona definitely exists because she's the kind of action protagonist woman I always wanted - one that could be unapologetically powerful, but still full of flaws and desires (especially ones that weren't about falling in love and minimizing her own strengths). She's even autistic!

Stories From Ylelmore: Keryth! Keryth, Keryth, Keryth! She reminds me so much of the kinds of characters I would make up when I was younger - I love her and her small magic so dearly.

The Strange Case of Starship Iris: Hi queer space pirates <3

Unseen: Another anthology show, but Harry Winters and Never-Ending Circles remains one of the most perfect premiere episodes I've ever heard in audio drama.

The Way We Haunt Now: Get your podcast ladies here, dead or alive!

We Fix Space Junk: My favorite type of repairman is a woman who could kick my ass.

Wolf 359: I don't think I need say much more here - y'all know and love 'em just as much as I do.

[hypostatic-oath]

Hi there! How do you think a team composition of Raiden, Diluc/Yelan (depending on the day), Kaeya and Kazuha would work? Especially in SAGAU terms.

I headcannon that Ei once referred to Kaeya as "son of Khaenri'ah" and Diluc has been defensive ever since.

Forgive me if I get Yelan's characterization wrong - she's one of the few characters I don't have, the most I've seen of her was the story quest, the Chasm event with Itto and Yanfei, and that she apparently stole a coat Pantalone wanted to give to the Tsaritsa, which honestly would immediately put her in Diluc's good books.

That being said - for Diluc and Yelan, I think the switching would work out really well. I mean, they're both busy businesspeople with probably tightly packed schedules, so I reckon your usual antics might even start a close partnership between the two, even if only on a personal level, i.e. each updating the other on what was done during their turn as that day's chosen vessel, or asking the other to potentially cover for them on a day where they just really really couldn't make it. They'd be grateful for the on and off schedule, it gives them time.

Yelan and Kaeya look like they'd be the kind of fast friends that are friendly only on the surface, because they are both distrustful of each other since they're equally sneaky, but I see them growing accustomed to each other as you take them out together. Hydro and Cryo work well naturally, and I can see them having an easier time working in synergy the more they begin to understand one another. It's not openness - neither of them is going to share their innermost workings with someone like that - but it is a form of comraderie that they both end up being thankful for. I'd wager Yelan reminds Kaeya of Rosaria somewhat, and that on downtimes, the two have gone out for drinks and perhaps some gambling.

As for himself and Diluc, Kaeya finds himself even more thankful for the opportunity. The chance for their bond to truly heal from what happened on the day of Crepus's death had not yet surfaced. He knew Diluc still cared - but in a different, silent, far more distant way than before. Kaeya did miss having his brother have his back, and doing the same for him. The first months were difficult - packed with "This meams nothing" and "I am following the Overseer's will, that is all", with Diluc ditching the place as soon as you tabbed out. Kaeya's teasing feels sharp, Diluc is almost cold, and the two can bicker back and forth so often that one would forget they are not the only ones on the team. The teasing never truly goes away. Diluc never truly lowers his guard. But the moment anyone or anything gets in the way of one, the other will lend a hand almost on instinct.

Diluc justifies it as doing it for you. You placed them together, and you rely on both of them, and it is very clear that you like them both enough to place them on your main team. You surely don't want any of them hurt, right? They both use the same argument to justify not sparring - a suggestion brought up by the Shogun, who was genuinely trying to help. Of course it's not because deep down both of them want the best for one another - it is simply because you want the best for both of them. Of course.

But if that were the reason, why would Diluc place himself between his brother and the Archon every time since he heard that one casual remark? He didn't know what bothered him so much about it - it was accurate, wasn't it? Son of Khaenri'ah. There was a time, once, when Diluc would've called it preposterous - Kaeya was a son of Crepus, just like he was. Regardless of his birth parents, he'd been raised a Ragnvindr.

But... was that really true? Had it ever been?

Being placed on the same team as Kaeya, Diluc finds himself grappling with thoughts he had back when everything came to light. For the vast majority of his life, Kaeya had been, indeed, just as much a child of Khaenri'ah as Diluc was a child of Mondstadt. But a man's future is not defined by his past - instead, his present. Kaeya is as much of a sneaky bastard as Diluc is used to him being... but the more the two work together, the more he realises that Kaeya has become more of a Mondstadter than he himself is aware of. He may have been a child of Khaenri'ah once, but the man he's grown into is as much of his brother as he thought him to be as children.

He does not, however, say this out loud. Ever.

The Shogun has since stopped reffering to him as that - it very clearly makes both of them incredibly uncomfortable, and though it is nice to get a break from the bickering, she was not actually looking to offend anybody. So far she's taken to reffering to Kaeya by title instead, adressing him as Captain. She doesn't strike me as the type to jump directly to being on a first name basis with people, and would want to maintain that distance.

Her and Diluc interact very little - she much prefers the Yelan days now, if only due to the fact that she knows there's still some lingering tension from that little incident. I could see the two getting along somewhat well before, but the relationship definitely soured in that awkward quiet way that never leads to an actual confrontation. But then again, I can see this being a very, VERY tense team. Like seriously the only person here that has no beef at all is Yelan.

Because while the brothers' antics take the main stage - their bickering is dramatic and explosive and their jabs at each other end up taking the attention from othet issues, which is quite thr relief - there is also the strained feelings between Kazuha and the Shogun.

Oh yes.

You and the Traveler may have gotten through to the Archon, shown her the power of people's hopes and dreams, and helped repel the Vision Hunt Decree. Inazuma may now be open again, and the Nation of Electro may be slowly rebuilding itself and its foreign relations after the civil war. The Shogun had her redemption arc, and joined you as a Vessel, and so far she has been nothing but helpful and reliable on the field of combat.

But Kazuha's friend is not any less dead.

Kazuha himself says that he's thought about it, and that he holds no resentment towards the Shogun. His friend died in an honorable duel, and that's that. But not resenting someone doesn't automatically mean a close or good relationship, nor does it mean that what was done has been forgotten. Kazuha supposes he'll trust your judgement, and that the Shogun is there to help - but there's still that lingering fear, that cold sweat when he wakes up and that shiver running down his back, because the aftermath of a war is never easy, and though she's on their side now, what if one day she isn't. Were it not for the brothers' antics - and possibly Kaeya, let us be honest here, he's the one who talks - the team would be... very, very silent.

From either angle, your team is PACKED with tension, but hopefully they'll be able to slowly grow to rely on each other, and maybe mend what was broken along the way.

With a bit of luck they go out for drinks and dango. I think they deserve it.

[queenpiranhadon]

do whichever you want, I dont care lol

zenitsu agatsuma

Leo valdez

tanjirou kamado

grover underwood

they are put in order of how much I simp for them

A/N: I'm going to assume you want x reader because yeah lmaooo but since his birthday is today, I figured I'd do our favorite Uncle Leo hahahah Here's the masterlist!!

Warning(s): Cursing, mentions of being burned, blood, crying, you are Leo are best friends, angst with a happy ending, Leo is in love and doesn't realize it bahaha, reader is unclaimed, people be shit talking, there's no timeline for this, just insert it where you want lmao, reader is gn but is written with f!reader in mind, usage of Y/N, Leo refers to you as an angel

Pairing(s): Leo Valdez x Reader

•────•°•❀•°•───── ʙʀᴏᴋᴇɴ ─────•°•☁︎•°•────•

Aw fuck.

Leo may or may not have royally messed up. Like a ton.

He didn't even know how it happened, because one moment he's walking through Camp Halfblood with you, his best friend in the entire world, and the next, he overhears some bastards talking shit about you and he just...snaps.

"Ugh who'd you get on your team for capture? Can't believe Mr. D thought it would be a good idea to split up the cabins and 'mix and match'"

"Yeah it's honestly super dumb- I'm not complaining though, I've got Annabeth."

"You're just lucky- I got Y/N of all people- literally the most annoying person on camp- and honestly the most useless too."

At at the sound of that, Leo whipped his head to you, just in time to see your eyes wide, on the brink of brimming with tears before looking forwards, attempting to pretend you didn't hear anything.

But you had.

And Leo knew.

You were unclaimed, and you mostly kept to yourself until Leo found you tending to Festus while he was away one day- and surprisingly the metal dragon seemed completely at ease around you.

Leo was awestruck, and ever since then, you two had gotten extremely close, the son of Hephaestus even found himself longing to be in your presence whenever he was on quests.

You were quiet, but around him, you opened up more, you were funny, and kind, and you have a quick tongue too, always engaging in light banter with him that never ceased to be entertaining to either of you.

To him, you were perfect- because you were there. His first best friend technically wasn't his in the first place, given that Jason, Piper and Leo himself were all under Hera's unnerving control. Needless to say, the three of them were still close, but Leo couldn't shake the feeling that it wasn't genuine.

Along with the rest of the Argo II members, he felt more like a seventh wheel more than anything (if that was even possible) and deep down, the nagging thought that he was nothing but a burden always lingered.

Around you though, he felt like someone, like he was special - around you, he felt like Leo Valdez.

Maybe that's why he got so mad, he didn't even know he could get so mad- and the next thing he knows, a murderous scowl is painted on his face and he's lunging for the two other campers, fists ablaze.

But you were faster.

You, sweet angel you, saw what was coming the moment his palms tightened into fists, lunging forward to stop him, using your hands to stop him own.

In hindsight, you probably should've remembered his hands were on fire.

But even as pain seared your palms to the point tears where subconsciously running down your face, you swallowed, and stood firm.

"Leo, please." you beg weakly, and in an instant, his flames distinguish, and your blood now paints his first- horror overtaking his face as you stare into his eyes pleadingly. "They're not worth it."

Leo, in his guilt ridden frozen state, can only bring himself to look at you, and yet, he doesn't deserve it, your eyes wide and cheeks stained with tears- he can't believe he had done this to you.

He, of all people, had hurt his angel, his haven, his best friend.

But you didn't waver, when he buried his hands in his eyes, sobbing uncontrollably, you said nothing, engulfing him in your arms and pressing his face into the crook of your neck and he heaved, tears soaking into your shirt.

He was broken, but he knew, even if he didn't deserve it, you would be there to pick up his fragments, piece by piece, with your damaged hands, just so you two could be together again.

[pinievsev]

All That I've Done

Edmund Pevensie x GN!reader

L I S T E N T O: River - Ochman

Warnings: crying, very short, implied relationship, probably like really bad but we're getting there.

Genre: reverse comfort, fluff, angs-ish

Synopsis: Here.

A/N: When I tell you I actually screamed in joy when I saw this request I'm not even exaggerating. Tysm anon for this, hope you enjoy!

Word count: 1,022

Your surroundings were way to quiet for your liking, the atmosphere way to solemn and even breathing felt hard. You stood a few meters away from the pevensie siblings surrounded by the remains of what used to be your home.

Exactly how long had it been? You knew time went by faster in Narnia than back home but you didn't expect it to have been so long, however long it's been.

You snapped out of your thoughts by Edmund's voice calling your name, you turned your head to see him standing right in front of you. "Here, I believe these are yours" he said handing you your old weapons and clothing. You took the daggers and fabric ,that looked untouched by time, no different from when you last saw them a year ago, from him gratefully and nodded in appreciation.

You'd been walking for some time, everything seemed so different, so quiet, the once lively kingdom now only a fraction of what it used to be.

The five of you came to a halt, taken aback by the scene unfolding Infront of you, two men in foreign armour atop a small boat in the river not too far away carrying a dwarf, gagged and tied.

Susan was quick to act, aiming at them with her bow "Drop him!" She commanded and ironically enough that's exactly what they did, dropped him in the river.

One of the men readied his crossbow yet before he could even aim he was pierced by Susan's arrow while the other cowardly fled. Peter quickly jumped in the river, saving the dwarf while you helped Edmund get the boat to shore.

Lucy used her dagger to cut the dwarf's restraints. "Drop him?!" Was the first thing he said directed to Susan "is that the best you can come up with?!"

"A 'thank you' would've been appreciated" you defended hearing Edmund snort beside you.

You laughed at the dwarf's expression when he put the pieces together "You're it?! You're the kings and queens of old?!".

It took some time to get him to trust you but it worked out after a short duel against Edmund. You learned that his name was Trumpkin and that it's been over a thousand years since you disappeared.

Trumpkin told you about prince Caspian and how he was trying to help the Narnians, how he was the one that had called for you using Susan's horn.

You spent most of the time of your journey walking by Edmund, you tried starting a conversation multiple times but he looked uninterested, trapped in his own thoughts, giving you short answers and not bothering to continue after that so you simply gave up and stuck to quietly walking by his side.

It was starting to get dark, the sky turning a beautiful indigo colour, full of bright starts, the starts you would admire at every night for 15 years. You decided to set up camp in a small clearing, you'd continue your journey early at dawn.

As you sat with Lucy and Susan quietly, you noticed Edmund out of the corner of your eye, a bit further than the rest of you sitting alone on a boulder.

Using your hands to assist yourself, you stood up, slowly walking towards him. He looked sad still like he's been for the whole time you've been back. The sound of your daggers clanging together as you walked made him turn back in alarm, visibly relaxing once he saw who it was.

Not speaking a word you sat by him for a minute or two before finally turning to look at him. "What's up with you?" You asked making him turn to you with a confused expression.

"Whatever do you mean?" You rolled your eyes, knowing very well he knew what you were referring to. "You've been looking all solemn since we got here. Are you not happy to be back? What's the matter?" He shook his head and faced Infront of him "of course I'm happy to be back it's just." He paused for a moment "it's so different, too quiet, too eerie" he explained, his gaze directed to you once more.

You nodded and moved slightly closer, placing a hand on the boy's shoulder "I understand, and I completely agree with you, but we have to keep our heads up. We need to be strong for our home, I'm sure we'll fix this." You reassured him, or tried your best to.

Your expression turned from that of compassion to one of panic as you noticed the tears making their way to his eyes. "I just can't stand to see Narnia this way, after all that I've done, all that we've done. Why did we have to leave? Why didn't we stay?" He cried with a shaky voice.

You opened your arms for him and he gladly accepted the affection, wasting no time to move into your embrace and cling to you, his handa gripping the back of your shirt as he hid his face in between your neck and shoulder.

You ran a hand through his hair, the other rubbing comforting circles on his back "it's okay. Let it out" you spoke softly to the sobbing boy in your arms.

He sobbed for a good 10 minutes before letting go of you and wiping his eyes "I'm sorry." You shook your head, your hand remaining in it's position on his back. "It's okay to cry, even as a king. You have nothing to apologise for"

He smiled slightly at your words, placing his hand atop your own which had moved from his back to his shoulder as you spoke.

"Thank you. For always being there for me." You smiled and placed a quick yet soft kiss to his forehead "you can always count on me to be there whenever you need me to, I promise" without further words he returned to your embrace a content sigh leaving his lips.

Knowing his has you by his side, always there, makes him feel invincible, like nothing could ever harm him. You can and will save Narnia like you did once, together.

[romancingromanoff]

Second Death

Andromache the Scythian x f!reader

I decided to create a series for Andromache (my beloved). Here’s part 1, part 2, and part 3

Summary: Your first mission does not go according to plan

TW: Violence, major character death, somewhat descriptive gore, getting shot in the face, head explosions (kinda), ANGST

Words: around 3,000

A/N: Aside from being very difficult for me to write, this is probably the darkest I've ever gotten in terms of physical violence. So, uh, Happy Halloween I guess?

The plan was based off Buenos Aires 1822 (not 1922 as you had incorrectly assumed at first) which was a reference you obviously didn’t understand but was being explained to you in the most hectic way possible.

“Wait, so Nicky was decapitated-”

“Half decapitated. I didn’t actually die!”

“But you were quite light-headed for the rest of the day, my dear.” Joe feigned concern, brushing the back of his hand across his partner’s forehead and smiling like a fool.

Your leader was having none of it.

“Can we be serious please?” Immediately, the entire group’s focus shifted back to the Scythian. She certainly wasn’t going to admit it but she was apprehensive with this being your first mission. For months, you’d been doing nothing but training and begging her to let you in on the action until she was finally forced to give in. The instinct to keep you safe gnawed at Andy while it became increasingly difficult to ignore how your desire to prove your worth would only continue to grow. She recognized the same frustrations in a much younger version of herself and remembered how reckless it drove her to be.

“I’d rather we didn’t repeat that portion this time, agreed?”

You all nodded.

They laid out all the details about the traffickers and the group of people you were meant to rescue. It was an estimated 25-40 women and older girls being smuggled through for undoubtedly unpleasant purposes Andy didn’t get too detailed with. She, Joe, and Nico planned to storm the ship when it completely docked and most of the crew was on land retrieving supplies and weapons. That would leave only a few guards standing between them and the captives, who were most likely being held somewhere below deck. Once they find them, you and Booker would bring in the truck to help get everyone out. It sounded simple enough, but the fact that it was meant to go off without a hitch somehow doubled the amount of pressure you were applying to yourself. They had all done this at least once before, so if things went south then it was all because of you.

A few hours passed and you sat next to Booker in the passenger seat of the truck parked a couple of meters away from the ship and near a loading dock. With the engine off it was starting to get increasingly cold, but you didn’t even mind the chill at that point. You needed to be as alert as possible for what was to come.

Booker clearly sensed your apprehension. “It’s okay to be nervous, we’re not going to let anything bad happen to you.” He kept his voice low and his eyes glued on the dock entrance while you tried to do the same. 

Your mind was wrapped up in much bigger concerns. “I’m not worried about that. What if something goes wrong because of me? If I get hurt then so be it, I just don’t want to endanger anyone else when their lives and freedom are at stake.”

“You’ll be fine. Trust your training and lean on your team if you need help. That’s what we’re here for.” He offered you an encouraging smile that you attempted to return the best you could, yet you also wished he wouldn’t look at you with so much sympathy all of the time. As much as you appreciated everything they had done for you, you longed to show the others that you were capable of carrying your own weight and didn’t need someone to hold your hand constantly.

The two of you settled into a silence that was occasionally filled with a comment or two about nothing in particular. It didn’t do much to settle your nerves. You watched as dozens of muscular men left in packs, each one armed with at least a pistol that Booker taught you how to spot. He translated some of the French he could hear them speaking, which was mostly crude, misogynistic banter that made your jaw clench up.

“Good to know that men are pigs in basically all cultures,” you murmured mostly to yourself and tried to get your jaw to relax. Surprisingly, it earned you a gratifying laugh from the Frenchman and you were relieved when he didn’t take your comment too personally. 

“For the most part, I don’t disagree.”

“How will Andy and the others know when all of them have left?” You changed the subject upon the realization that the rest of the guard was hidden somewhere no one would see them, not even you. It was still difficult to imagine they had a better scouting position than the near-direct view you did.

“Don’t worry, they’ll know,” Booker assured you in a slightly amused tone. Some secrets were still too complicated for you to know about yet, you supposed.

Almost a half hour later, three heads eventually peered up through the shadows and Andy, Joe, and Nico lifted themselves up onto the ship. Perfectly lit by hues of the full moon, they danced towards their destination, the sheer coordination and skill reminding you of just how experienced they were. With Andy leading the pack, they silently began making their way up the vessel as a single unit. No words or other body gestures needed to be shared when they occupied the same hive mind. The group only came to a stop when they reached a door and huddled around it, trying to listen for anyone that might be on the other side. When you assumed everything was clear, Andy swiftly kicked it open and entered with her gun aimed and ready. 

Not even a minute after all three filed in, the sound of a gunshot suddenly shook you. You immediately turned to Booker, whose face gave away the slightest look of concern at the noise. This must not have happened in Buenos Aires. No more gunshots followed, thank goodness, but there were sounds of a struggle going on below deck which had the two of you on high alert. You prayed that nobody else close by could hear the commotion.

Things began to steer away from the original plan when Joe emerged from below far before he should have, struggling to keep another figure under control as he held their arms in a twisted position behind their back while continuing to firmly push them forward. Even in the dark, you could just make out how young the kid appeared to be. He couldn’t have been older than 16 and you assumed his reason for being on the ship was because he had an older relative in the crew. You relaxed when you realized that meant how unlikely it was that he’d be trained in how to fight. Joe would definitely keep from harming him unless he absolutely had to. Stupidly, you also forgot about how reckless young boys can be.

Everything fell apart in a mere matter of seconds. As he appeared to calm down, Joe eased up on the grip he held the boy with and he it didn’t seem like he would move at first. But in an instant, the scraggly kid darted from his grasp and sprinted around a corner and out of your line of sight to the completely opposite side of the ship. Booker reached for the door handle as a precaution while the rest of his body remained seated. A bead of sweat rolled down your neck despite the chill in the air and the gradual understanding that Book might be preparing to leave you on your own stilled your body completely. All of the careful planning you had fought to carefully commit to memory melted into mush.

Your thoughts were interrupted by a high-pitched whistle that rang through the air and your eyes quickly followed a bright red light travel up into the sky before it burst into a large display of lights and smoke. Time seemed to slow down and your heart sped up. Of course, if there wasn’t going to be another pistol going off, it had to be a goddamn flare gun. Yelling, alarmed Frenchmen could then be heard scrambling towards the dock and Booker cursed under his breath.

“Stay here, I’ll go help the others!” Booker leaped out of the vehicle, throwing the keys which hit your petrified figure. Part of you wanted to speak up and stop him but you could only squeak out an indecipherable sound of concern seconds after he was gone. Looking back at the ship, you caught sight of Nico peeking his head out from the door they entered through. He exited with a determined look on his face and was followed by a line of women. You itched at your sweating palms when twenty women or so had piled out and there was still no sign of Andy. 

The men hurrying in from the opposite direction quickly diverted your attention. Squinting your eyes, you were able to spot a figure in the distance headed straight towards your vehicle. You nearly panicked but caught yourself, uncertain if you were dealing with the traffickers or possibly random dock workers that had been alarmed by the flare and merely wanted to check out the situation. Either way, you decided it was still too risky to start up the engine just yet. At least, you told yourself the others probably wouldn’t want you to give away your position.

That’s when you noticed a faint movement in your side mirror. A tuft of matted blonde curls belonging to a distressed woman’s face peeked over the top of one of the crates not to far behind you. She must’ve spotted something concerning, because her eyes went wider than a trapped mouse’s and she disappeared back down, ultimately causing the crates to shake. You ground your back teeth together and prayed it was only you who had seen her. But then right on cue, the blinding glow of a flashlight landed directly over the area where the woman was hiding. The man you had spotted only moments before, his flashlight lit up a devious grin on his face that urged you to hold in your breath. He even sounded like the devil when he spoke. It didn’t take a high level French skills to tell that he began goading the poor woman like it was some sadistic game to him. 

He approached the crates ever so slowly, savoring the anticipation which laid before whatever unspeakable plans he had for his victim. It then occurred to you that she was most likely paralyzed with the same fear that had struck you.

And yet, she was the one currently being hunted while you were poised to sit and watch it unfold. You, protected by both your position and inexplicable gift of immortality. None of it seemed remotely fair and your body began to stir at the simple thought.

“Under no circumstances should you be engaging in combat,” Andy had firmly laid down the law several times leading up to this day. You’d never wanted to disobey anything she said so passionately before and here it felt like you scarcely had no other option but to go against something she forbade. 

The adrenaline rushing through your veins threw your body into action before you could debate any further. Barely aware of the forces taking hold of you, you tumbled out of the door and landed directly behind the attacker who continued to stalk forward towards the woman’s hiding place. He slowly began to raise his gun, something with barrels much longer than your forearms, and it was like you didn’t have the time to properly assess whatever danger lie at the other end. You just didn’t want it pointing at her.

Without a hint of hesitation, you drove foot into the back of the man’s left knee and he immediately crumbled down to about a third of his height. You were ready for him with your knife once his face spun around and an overpowering sense of rage guided your arm to make a clean cut from just below his right eyebrow, across the bridge of his nose, and finally through the center of his left eye. 

Something solid and heavy smacked the front of your head and you could hear the woman behind you scream in horror before everything went black.

Horrific violence was nothing if not a sheer constant to Andy. She had both experienced and caused enough to fill the oceans with blood, yet nothing made her seethe with rage more than watching yours spill from your head like a geyser. A thousand lifetimes stained with death could not have prepared her for the sight of your limp body hitting the ground, to which there was no question as to whether or not you were dead. Even if you had been wearing some type of protective head gear, a shotgun firing within five inches of your face would have been fatal. 

She was usually a pro at keeping her emotions under control until the mission was completed and never steered away from the plan without first calculating the absolute best course of action. The other teammates she had and the terrified group of women she was meant to protect called upon her to uphold her position as the leader, a task she had shouldered over a million times before despite whatever her personal feelings demanded. Absolutely none of that mattered now. Getting to you, killing that bastard, and wrapping you up in your arms became the only course of action she was capable of taking. 

Her first priority was taking out the son of a bitch that dared to touch you before anyone else got hurt. She handed off the little girl she had been carrying to Nico before barreling over a crate and launching herself over the side of the ship, rolling smoothly to break her fall when she hit the the dock. 

Despite how fast she ran, she seemed to move at a cursedly slow pace. She was still too quick for the man, his blood leaking from the fresh gash you had tore across his face, to notice her. He didn’t even get a chance to run before the warrior drove her labrys straight into the already-open wound. Andy could only revel in the brief taste of satisfaction for a moment before her emotions began swarming once again, the anger she had held for that man was now aimed solely at herself.

“Booker, get her into the back!” She barked at the Frenchman to take care of the hostage still hiding while rushing over to where your body collapsed. Up close, the sight was even more gruesome as blood, flesh, and bone were splattered all across what used to be your face. It would have been generous to call what was left of everything above your neck a simple stump. She knew she needed to get you out of there fast but hated to leave behind any parts of your head that might have been salvageable. Even saving something like an ear or significant chunk of your skull could aid in speeding up the healing process. She knew it would be excruciatingly painful for you to grow back yourself. 

She desperately grabbed at fistful of what she hoped was your brain before scooping you up in her arms. It was the fact that you were so much lighter than usual which made her wince, though she couldn’t help but be somewhat relieved when it meant it allowed her to run faster on her feet. Cautious yet quick, Andy made a beeline for the passenger’s seat of the truck and cradled your body in her arms while you continued to bleed out. It wasn’t a sight she wanted any of the hostages to witness and it’s not like she was letting go of you anytime soon anyway. 

“Drive!” One word was all she needed to command whomever was at the steering wheel to get out of there as fast as possible. It didn’t even occur to her to look up and check to see who she was sitting next to, as she immediately began trying to pick up any movement in your chest or a sign of a pulse in your wrist, anything that indicated the resurrection process was in motion.

“Please, please, come back to me,” she pleaded as your warm blood began to pool across her lap.

“Give her a second.” She realized it was Booker currently driving. “It’s only her second time and will probably take longer than expected.”

The women they had freed were now crammed together once again, only this time being in the back of a dark loading truck as it sped through the dead of night was probably far more merciful than them being forced to witness the transformation you were currently undergoing. Andy, however, couldn’t tear a single string of her attention away from you throughout the entire process. 

Each noise you made followed by the eventual cries of her name from your lips, once your mouth and airways had completely reformed, tore at Andromache deeper and deeper, in ways that no physical pain she had ever endured could compare. She bit down on her tongue till it was bloody as you repetitively squeezed her hand throughout the entire process. The same ones you often used to delicately recreate precious moments on paper broke more than a few of her bones. But Andy barely noticed and didn’t have the capacity to care. All she was focused on was you.

For the first time in centuries, the Scythian invoked the words of an ancient prayer and resurrected a long dead language as she tried to soothe your pain. She stopped believing in a higher power a long time ago but couldn’t shake the truth that repeating those words made her feel anchored to something even larger than her life or her immortality. There wasn’t anything she wouldn’t try if it might possibly bring you a sense of comfort, which she actually prayed may happen. 

[yellowocaballero]

Ashen Wolf Byleth & Teen Dad Yuri

The blade fell, and the beautiful ghost stepped away. “We don’t like surface people here. If you two are plotting anything, I’ll kill you.”

She said it so simply and easily, as if Dimitri’s death would be the work of nature or the Goddess and not her own two hands. Dimitri turned around, heart jumping into the throat, and met the eyes of his beautiful ghost for the first time.

The girl was solid, real, and around his age. She was wearing a strange, bastardized version of the Academy uniform, silver and embroidered with a strange symbol over the heart. Her hair gleamed navy blue and her lace stockings barely hid her defined thigh muscles. Her grip on her sword was excellent and her stance spoke of barely restrained power. The woman could kill him in a flash, and the stroke that cut his throat would shine like moonlight.

Like Dimitri loved a long fall and short impact, like he loved the light at the end of the tunnel, like he loved betting all in on the longest chances, Dimitri fell in love instantly.

I need to update Weekenders but there's about twenty reasons why I haven't done it yet. But while I've been posting it I've been writing a shitton of other stuff, only some of which is decent, so I thought I'd post the beginnings of this story while I finish up the New Game+ Claude POV fic. This is most of what exists so far, and I probably won't finish it. Writing Dimitri's POV actively made me feel more insane as a person.

TW for references and flashbacks to Yuri's canon past. Around 15k of an absolutely demented Dimitri, a deeply smarmy Claude, a disturbingly feral Byleth, and a Yuri who is just doing his best under the cut.

i.

Dimitri was rapidly growing obsessed with the beautiful ghost. 

He tried to confess to his colleagues in the Blue Lions, but they just gave him sympathetic eyes and confiscated his training sword. A typical lack of faith in their leader, but Dimitri had to accept that it was well deserved. He was perfectly aware that Felix, Sylvain, Dedue, and Ingrid didn’t believe in ghosts, much less beautiful ones. Mercedes, Ashe, and Annette believed whole-heartedly in ghosts, but they thought he was being weird about it. So Dimitri was silenced, ostensibly for his own good. It was for his own good - future kings couldn’t exactly run around talking about beautiful ghosts - but it still felt like an odd form of betrayal. 

And he still couldn’t get her out of his mind. If only he had proof, Sylvain would make fun of him just a little bit less. All he had to do was be patient and wait for his time to come. Sylvain would see. They’d all see. 

The time came sooner than expected, with unexpected company. Dimitri and Claude were walking back from an important (Edelgard’s words) and mind-numbingly boring (Claude’s words) administrative meeting when he saw her again. They were walking a side path along the very edge of the monastery, using it as a shortcut between the main building and their own dormitory, and in the thick night their solitude was complete. Complete save for a shadow in the distance, darting from the forest and across the path like a minnow in a stream. 

Dimitri dropped his books in shock. Claude stopped short, raising an eyebrow at him. 

“What’s -”

“It’s her!” Dimitri cried. “That’s her! Hey - miss, please wait!”

The books and company were no longer important. Dimitri set off after her at a run, only barely aware that Claude was hot on his tail. As always, the ghost disappeared almost instantly - she crossed the path and dove into the tall shrubbery against the stone walls of the monastery, where she disappeared. Dimitri had seen her appear from the ground and disappear into walls before, only barely visible from the corner of his eyes, and every time she slipped like water from his fingers.

This time was no different. Dimitri skidded to a halt at her disappearing point, pushing aside thick branches in a desperate search for terrestrial beauty. There was nobody and nothing - the girl had walked straight into the monastery walls. Foiled again.

“Dammit!” Dimitri yelled. Claude’s eyebrows jumped up. “I was so close that time!” 

“You know curse words? I owe Hilda a hundred gold.” Claude poked his head over Dimitri’s shoulder, watching his desperate search without helping whatsoever. “What was all of that about? Did you see someone?”

“Didn’t you?” But Dimitri already knew the answer, even as he said it - nobody ever saw her but him. “I’ve been seeing this girl since I arrived at Garreg Mach. She appears from thin air and disappears into nothing. I suspect she may be a ghost. I’ve searched high and low for her, but I haven’t been able to find her. And she slips through my fingers again!”

Claude hummed, scratching his chin. “Now that you mention it, maybe I did see a figure…”

Dimitri rocketed upwards, snapping several branches. He whirled on Claude, who took a large step back. “You did? Was she short, wearing silver clothing, unmistakably beautiful?”

Claude held up both hands in a plea for innocence. “...it looked kind of humanoid?” Figures. Dimitri turned back around, scanning the area again. If he could just follow her trail - maybe there would be a scent of death? Of ozone? Of the unknown? “Hey, if it matters that much to you then I’ll help you look. Can’t afford to rule anything out - even ghosts.” 

“You’re a true friend, Your Grace,” Dimitri said seriously. Claude nodded back, equally seriously. “And even if she isn’t a ghost, an unknown person at Garreg Mach is highly suspect. She doesn’t seem to wear a habit, armor, or a uniform. It’s our responsibility as leaders to investigate mysteries like this.” 

“Uh huh.” Claude slipped into the thicket with him, easily fitting into the barren spots where Dimitri already accidentally snapped off all the branches. Dimitri was already seriously knocking on the castle walls, searching for secret passages or weaknesses. “But not to tell a staff member?”

“I decided a while ago that I could handle this on my own,” Dimitri said stiffly. Wasn’t like anybody was willing to help him, anyway. “Some endeavors are personal.”

“I know that feeling.” Claude hummed, and Dimitri heard the distinct screech of metal scraping on metal. “So are you this invested because of the ghost thing or the beautiful thing?”

“With the potential non-invited guest at Garreg Mach thing, Your Grace.” 

A terrible grinding sound split the night, and Dimitri winced. He was a bit sensitive to unexpected loud noises. Felix knew, and liked to sneak up on him and yell in his ear. “I’m a future duke and you’re a future king, Your Highness, I think you’re meant to speak less formally to me.” 

“We’re both future leaders of our respective countries,” Dimitri said seriously. “Isn’t that more important than a discrepancy in titles? I’d like to show respect to you as it befits your station, not your title.” 

More awful screeching filled the air, accompanied by a final grinding scream and a muffled thump. “Is that why you’re the only person who calls Petra ‘Your Highness’? I think that’s why you’re the only guy in this school she approves of.” 

“Really?” Dimitri asked, pleased. Politeness always paid off! “I simply think it’s disrespectful to treat her as anything less than royalty simply because she is here as a political hostage - an outdated practice that I believe - I’m sorry, what’s that sound?”

“Oh, just opening a secret passage.” 

“I see. I just think it’s an outdated practice that ought to be illegalized, and just between you and me I actually highly disapprove of - I’m sorry, a what?”

Dimitri turned around from his fruitless inspection of the wall for the first time and saw Claude squatting nearby. He had cut away the brambles surrounding the area with the tip of an arrow he pulled from somewhere, and a large manhole was resting on the grass next to him. He was currently sticking his head down a dark hole of indeterminable depth. Dimitri hadn’t even noticed a manhole! 

Well. If the beautiful woman was a beautiful ghost, then she had undoubtedly gone through the wall. But if the beautiful woman was an everyday extremely attractive girl, then the manhole might be how she had escaped so quickly. 

Finally, a lead! A path towards her! Dimitri did not know why he was a little disappointed. Was he secretly hoping she’d be a ghost? That would be a little impractical. Maybe he was just upset Claude had found it?

Claude popped his head back up, upside-down braid swinging back against his cheek. “Now isn’t this interesting?” For the first time, Claude seemed invested. “The sewer system doesn’t run underneath this path. So what’s an access point to the sewers doing right here?”

“...why do you know the sewer layout of Garreg Mach?”

“I’m a fan of a good mystery,” Claude said, completely ignoring the question. Perhaps. “How do you feel about a little exploration on this fine moonlit night?” 

Oh no. Dimtiri abruptly felt a little anxious. “Your Grace, I don’t believe students are allowed in the Garreg Mach sewer systems.”

“What if it’s not the Garreg Mach sewer system?”

“That may be less allowed.” A little awkwardly, Dimitri added, “And I really wouldn’t want to accidentally break a rule and get in trouble.”

Claude gave him a look of blatant disgust. Dimitri hung his head in shame.

Finally, Claude took pity on him. He sighed and clapped Dimitri’s shoulder - once in camaraderie, twice in sympathy. “Your Highness. Are you really going to let some little rules get in the way of you and your soulmate?”

Dimitri perked up. Putting it like that…and he really didn’t want to look uncool in front of Claude, who was probably the coolest person at the school… “I suppose Lady Rhea would understand if it’s for the sake of love…”

“Attaboy.” Claude shoved roughly at Dimitri’s shoulder, pushing him into the hole. “Now let’s dive into the sewers. Lords first!”

Thankfully, Dimitri wasn’t obligated to fall down a hole face first. There was a wooden ladder descending downwards, warped and fragile from the damp air, and although Dimitri descended into the dark with no hesitation he had to force himself to move slowly and grip the fragile rungs with utmost care. 

The darkness was absolute, and Dimitri and Claude navigated by feel. They climbed for what felt like ages, and Dimitri’s absolute concentration made the period of time span even longer. Claude prattled on above his head with some random thoughts and observations, but Dimitri was focusing too hard on the ladder to register what he was saying. 

A boot knocked him on the head. Dimitri’s hands spasmed, crushing the rung into splinters, and his grip was completely lost. Dimitri bent backwards a terrifying foot before he righted himself and regained his balance, grabbing the side of the ladder and swinging himself heavily downwards. Of course, that broke the side of the ladder, and suddenly Claude was yelling a great deal of expletives as one side of his ladder began to slide downwards. 

“Let’s readjust our approach,” Dimitri said mildly. He changed his grip to grab the two sides of the ladder, his metal gauntlets digging into the wood. “Get ready to slide, Your Grace.” 

“Are you nuts -”

Dimitri kicked off, taking his feet off the rungs and loosening his grip on the sides. His slide downwards was alarmingly fast, and he could feel the musty air rise up to meet him. Claude was still yelling, his voice echoing up the empty tunnel, and a familiar wave of adrenaline rose to wash Dimitri’s mind clean.

He couldn’t help but grin. The wind tousling his hair, the swooping sensation in his stomach, the possibility of death and the high probability of injury - a recipe for excitement. Dimitri’s favorite sort of excitement - the sort that cleared out all of the nasty little thoughts that clouded his mind day to day, that made him forget all of his problems and memories and wounds and that focused him onto the present moment. It was a thrill that conquered all ills, and it was more or less the only time that Dimitri was ever happy. 

His professor didn’t like that about him. Before Garreg Mach, Felix was the only person who was aware of Dimitri’s little addiction, but the Blue Lions professor had sniffed Dimitri out fast and never stopped giving him a hard time about it. Dimitri honestly didn’t think it was the professor’s business, but he knew they did not agree regarding that fact. It didn’t matter - Dimitri wasn’t about to change.

A light sprung from the darkness, and Dimitri immediately kicked his heels against the ladder and slowed his descent. The light brightened as Dimitri fell, and he was able to make out a hard-packed dirt floor just in time to bend his knees and soften his landing. The impact still rattled his legs down to the bone, but he hadn’t sprained anything.

Dimitri immediately jumped backwards, watching Claude come to the same conclusion and slow his descent. Unlike Dimitri, he didn’t stick the landing - he fell in an ungainly heap on the floor, gasping for breath and groaning. His hair was wildly mussed, and he looked a little green. His cape had ripped off his shoulders, and was currently hanging like a defeated flag several feet above their heads.

“What is wrong with you.”

Goddess, they’d be here all day. “You’re the one who kicked my head.” Dimitri wiped the splinters off his gauntleted hand, extending it down to Claude. Claude squinted at him in increasingly ill-hidden hatred. “Come on, have a little adventurous spirit. I thought you were here to explore the unknown?”

Claude pushed himself upwards, and Dimitri silently curled his hand and returned it to his side. Figured that Claude wouldn’t want to touch him. An expected reaction, honestly. “Sure I am. Now our way out of here is unknown too. Guess we have no choice but to press onwards.” 

“I’ll lead the way,” Dimitri said - perhaps betraying the fact that he had no intention of going backwards. “I believe we’re already out of the woods. Look yonder - see the exit?”

There was, indeed, an exit. They had landed in a narrow rectangular room, and there was clearly a door at the far corner where the right wall intersected the back wall. Light shone from within, and Dimitri eagerly led them forwards towards the light. 

He could even hear sounds, signs of life - the distant coursing of a river, and a familiar quiet symphony of sounds. They were the sounds of life - a soundscape of an ordinary day at the marketplace at the base of Garreg Mach, marked by shuffling feet and quiet voices. 

“Is that people?” Dimitri whispered, excited. “What are people doing this far underground?”

“Is that people?” Claude whispered, incredulous. “Does Rhea know about this?”

“Perhaps they’re ghosts!”

But Claude just shook his head, and for the first time he seemed a little grim. He sped up, walking briskly until he overtook Dimitri. Dimitri fell back, letting him take the lead, and listened curiously as Claude muttered under his breath. Dimitri couldn’t make out the words at all - too quiet, perhaps.

“Ghosts!” Claude hissed. “Perhaps they’re ghosts, that’s fun, not dangerous -”

“Maybe they’re an army of ghosts,” Dimitri volunteered. Claude hissed something that sounded suspiciously similar to the Almyran term for the Fodlan ethnic group. He probably mishead. “Honestly, Claude, what happened to your thirst for adventure -”

“I thought I would get to see Dimitri Blaiddyd stomp through some sewers for an hour! I didn’t expect to stumble into real life people!” Claude stopped at the entryway, peering forward into the cavernous expanse beyond them. Dimitri stopped too. Quite involuntarily. “Holy - that’s a settlement! What is a settlement doing underneath - that’s a village! There’s no way Rhea doesn’t know about that. What else is that woman hiding?”

Dimitri coughed, frozen perfectly still. Cold steel kissed his neck. “Ah. Er. Some help?” 

Claude ignored him, steadily working himself up. Dimitri had never seen Claude actually unbalanced before. It was unsettling. “Just when I thought I had five percent of that woman figured out, she pulls the rug on me again. I’ll never get anything good out of her this way. Can’t believe I’m saying this, but I might have to fall back on the B&E plan -”

“Some help, Claude!”

Instantly, Claude said, “What B&E plan?”

“Don’t move,” the beautiful ghost said. 

Claude turned around. 

Dimitri had to assume it was the beautiful ghost. The sword was raised against his neck upwards, showing that the wielder had to significantly lift her arm to hold it. The voice was unmistakably a woman’s, light and delicate and young. It wasn’t ethereal - rather, it was solid, as solid as the steel against his skin - but there was still something otherworldly about it. 

Claude stared at Dimitri, wide-eyed. His eyes traveled downwards - yes, the ghost had to be short - and he froze just as solid as Dimitri for a flat second before he relaxed. Over Claude’s shoulder, Dimitri could see the settlement stretching out before him - at the lean-tos and tents and shacks, at the people in rags milling about who were already beginning to stop and stare. The underground people were dirty, and the underground village was filthier. Dimitri immediately saw some elderly hugging the walls, and more foreigners.

Undoubtedly, Claude had seen what Dimitri saw. Claude was currently ahead of him - he was staring at the beautiful ghost with mouth agape, eyes wide. A hot flash of jealousy burst in Dimitri’s chest. Claude got to see the ghost’s face before he did! How incredibly unfair! 

“Hello, there. Sorry for…uh, dropping in.” Claude slowly raised his hands, showing himself unarmed. Dimitri wondered where he had stashed his extra arrows. “We…come in peace?”

The sword at his neck flashed. It was well-kept, but clearly old and cheap. “Who are you with.” 

“We’re not with anybody!” Claude said hurriedly. Bizarrely, he had immediately adopted an accent - a thick, regional Almyran accent, coarse and rough. “Please, ma’am, stay your sword. Don’t you have any idea who you’re holding hostage? He’s a very important person. If he goes missing your entire house will be endangered. It’s safest for everybody if you just let him go.”

The blade stilled. “...is he rich?”

“Oh, very! I know people who would pay thousands for his safe return!” 

“What did I expect,” Dimitri muttered. 

“And who are you?” the beautiful ghost asked. “Are you rich too?”

“I am but this man’s humble aide!” Claude said instantly. He bowed flamboyantly, with a distinctive Almyran flair. “A loyal and devoted servant am I, to His Royal Highness! My ten brothers and sisters wouldn’t have two coppers to scavenge together to pay a ransom, honest! Tell you what, tell you what - let me help!” Claude straightened, pulling out his most roguish and charismatic smile. “Let’s be friends, Fodlan beauty. Give me your demands, and I’ll deliver them straight upwards all the way to the top. I’ll be back with thousands! You can give the pale boy back later. If you want. How about it?”

The sword wavered. The ghost spoke again, her voice laced with doubt. “You’re both wearing the Academy uniform. Brother did say that the prince was attending school this year.”

“Beautiful and good intel sources! Surely you’ve heard of me, the Almyran vassal that follows around the prince and attends school with him?”

Dubiously, the ghost said, “Brother says that the vassal’s Duscuran…”

“I am disappointed that your brother cannot tell the difference between the Duscur and Almyran people!”

“It’s not like that…”

Claude promptly said something in - Almyran? When did Claude learn Almyran? The ghost said something back in Almyran, undoubtedly dubious. Claude pointed at Dimitri’s shoulder, showcasing Dimitri’s fine cape, and then at his own - and the distinct lack of yellow cape, which was probably still pinned to the ladder. The beautiful ghost murmured in assent - obviously Claude was a poor vassal, not a rich king, see his complete lack of cape. 

The beautiful ghost said something, and Claude’s eyes sharpened. He grinned and bowed even lower - a vassal to a princess. 

In the Fodlan language, Claude said, “Then His Highness and his loyal vassal would be honored to hold an audience with the lady’s esteemed brother.” 

“You talk stupid.” 

“You would really get along with my best friend, my lady.” 

“I’m not your anything.” The blade fell, and the beautiful ghost stepped away. “We don’t like surface people here. If you two are plotting anything, I’ll kill you.”

She said it so simply and easily, as if Dimitri’s death would be the work of nature or the Goddess and not her own two hands. Dimitri turned around, heart jumping into the throat, and met the eyes of his beautiful ghost for the first time.

The girl was solid, real, and around his age. She was wearing a strange, bastardized version of the Academy uniform, silver and embroidered with a strange symbol over the heart. Her hair gleamed navy blue and her lace stockings barely hid her defined thigh muscles. Her grip on her sword was excellent and her stance spoke of barely restrained power. The woman could kill him in a flash, and the stroke that cut his throat would shine like moonlight.

Like Dimitri loved a long fall and short impact, like he loved the light at the end of the tunnel, like he loved betting all in on the longest chances, Dimitri fell in love instantly. 

“Night night,” the love of Dimitri’s life said, before hitting him on the back of his head with the pommel of her sword, drawing black curtains over Dimitri’s eyes. 

__________

Dimitri sat in an office. A rather inauspicious turn in this kidnapping saga. 

He was sitting down because his head still hurt. He wished he was standing and showing his future brother-in-law the respect he deserved, but his future brother-in-law insisted that he tend to his probable concussion and sit. Dimitri wanted to protest - the man had already personally healed him, and his head didn’t hurt any more than usual - but the man seemed stressed enough, so Dimitri sat obediently in front of his desk. In an office. In an underground slum funded by the church. Which existed. Was that what taxpayer money was going towards?

Yuri explained the entire situation to him and Claude as he healed the bump and gash on Dimitri’s skull. For a given value of ‘entire’ - so far, Dimitri mostly just understood that the church organized a homeless encampment underground that accepted any members unconditionally and functioned roughly like its own little nation. The main encampment of Abyss was Garreg Mach itself - a basement floor of the monastery that had sunken into the ground after some unfortunate geographical events around seven hundred years ago. Dimitri wanted to ask if it was a possible problem that Garreg Mach was located in a sinkhole, but Yuri didn’t leave much time for questions.

The name of the slum was Abyss, and its inhabitants had little contact with the outside world. There were children in Abyss who had never stood in the sun, and infirm who hadn’t felt the sun’s warmth since they were well. Apparently the few inhabitants who regularly left Abyss used one of a series of secret passages in Garreg Mach, with entrances and exits that spanned the width of the monastery. These secret passages were very well-hidden, and an Abyssan well-versed in their usage could disappear and reappear throughout the monastery like…a ghost. 

They didn’t have visitors very often. Not many people knew about Abyss, and strangely enough the people in the loop didn’t care to visit a damp, filthy underground slum. They had even fewer Academy students fall down manholes and stumble into this inverted land of wonder. Hence why the sight of Dimitri and Claude caused certain Abyssans to panic. With their swords. 

These Abyssans were named Byleth, which was a lovely name. Potentially alliterative, too. 

“Your Highness.” Yuri was gritting his teeth together. “I am…so sorry.” 

“No harm done,” Dimitri said instantly. He wanted to express to Yuri that it was actually a great honor to be harmed by his sister, but he didn’t know how to say that in a normal way. “We were the intruders, after all. Byleth was just defending her home.” He turned to Byleth, who was standing stiffly behind her brother in a perfect match to Claude’s stiff stance behind Dimitri. Dimitri had barely taken his eyes off her, and yet she had failed to make a single facial expression. Fascinating. “Your swordplay was incredible, by the way. The way you held that sword to my throat was impeccable. I assume you’ve been professionally trained.”

“Here and there.” Byleth looked pleased, making Dimitri feel like a star. She pointed awkwardly at the silver sword at Dimitri’s hip. It was the same old sword Dimitri always had - some antique of the royal family, passed down from generation to generation. “I like your sword.”

Instantly, Dimitri said, “Thank you! Do you want it?”’

Byleth hummed. Yuri’s eyes widened a fraction, and Claude stifled a groan. “My sword is pretty old…”

“Here, take it.” Dimtiri immediately undid his belt and handed the sword over to her, belt and sheath and all. She held it up and admired it, testing its weight. Yuri’s jaw clenched. “Consider it my apology for following you uninvited into your home.”

Byleth nodded, twirling the sword easily in her hands. It was tremendously attractive. “Apology accepted. We’re even.” Her mouth twitched infinitesimally into something that may be loosely deemed a smile. Yuri’s eyes widened severely. “Thank you.”

Dimitri looked away, coughing. His face felt like it was going to melt off. “You’re welcome. It - ah, it suits you.”

“Do you think so?” Byleth asked, pleased. Perhaps. It was very hard to tell. Her voice was in a very strict monotone, but their deep spiritual connection meant that Dimitri could vibe these things out. “It does match my outfit.”

Dimitri would never be able to think of silver again without thinking of her. “I’m hono -”

“Your Highness.” Yuri’s voice hadn’t changed; nor had his words. His expression didn’t seem any different and his body language hadn’t shifted. But something about him was far now far less welcoming - something was different, all the same. “We’re very grateful for your gift, and for the forgiveness you’ve extended towards us regarding what happened. But it would be highly irresponsible of me to keep you here any longer. Abyss isn’t safe for somebody like you and your…vassal.”

“Khalid, sir.” Claude winked loudly at Dimitri, making absolutely certain that Dimitri understood that Claude was giving a fake foreign name. Yes, Dimitri picked up on that. “Really, wonderful place you have here. Very chic. Couldn’t possibly be that unsafe - if we had a good tour guide.”

Frostily, Yuri said, “I’ll have some scouts escort you back topside immediately. I’m certain Lady Rhea is looking for you.”

“It took her three days to notice that I tossed Lindhardt into a well, so I’m certain we have at least that long.” Claude leaned forward eagerly. “Who founded this place? Whose idea was it? Why is it underground?”

“Somebody who is no longer with us,” Yuri said, curt and even. “I’m the leader of Abyss now. And as the leader, it’s my responsibility to get future leaders of Fodlan back to their cozy beds.”

Claude flapped an easy hand. “Sure, let’s get the future leader of Fodlan back to bed. But this humble vassal’s awfully interested in this operation you’re running. Don’t suppose you could allow me to run around a bit? Check some things out? See your tax records?”

“I think even vassals have someplace to be, Khalid.”

“Why are you saying his name like that?” Byleth asked Yuri. She paused a beat. “Never mind. I don’t care.”

“There’s a great deal of places this vassal should be,” Claude said cheerfully, “but I think there’s only one place where I have to be.” He easily slid into the unoccupied chair next to Dimitri, leaning forward and folding his hands on Yuri’s desk. He had to nudge apart several scrolls of parchment and pieces of paper to do it - the man’s desk was stacked with forms, work, and quills. “Let’s put our cards on the table, huh? There’s a lot the church doesn’t tell us peons, Yuri. I’m willing to bet you know a lot of it. So in exchange for you telling me what you know, I don’t tell Lady Rhea what I know about a certain somebody trying to lop off the head of the future king of Faerghus. Sound good to you?”

Yuri crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair, one thin purple eyebrow arching. “You have a lot to learn about the art of the deal, kid. What will Rhea say when she learns that Prince Dimitri and Duke Claude were out past curfew skulking around slums?”

“Duke Claude’s happily asleep in his warm bed, and every member of his House is sufficiently paid to corroborate that story.” Claude smiled winningly. “Khalid is a humble vassal interested in touring your fine slum. Khalid might also have some other gossip that you might be interested in.” 

“Like what, kid?”

Claude’s grin widened. “I might tell you tomorrow morning. After my visit.”

Yuri was silent. His eyes flickered to Dimtiri, then to Claude. He glanced at his sister. “By, wait outside?” 

Byleth nodded and exited the room. Dimtiri yearned for her achingly. But Yuri just straightened, face as blank and unreadable as his sister’s, and said something to Claude in Almyran.

For the first time, Claude was struck off balance. He looked at Dimitri, eyes wide, then back at Yuri. He said something empathetically, shaking his head, but Yuri just responded curtly.

In the Fodlan language, Claude said, “On the honor of my father and mother, no. I’m not trying to -”

“Really?” Yuri said. “You’re a novice at this con artist thing, kid. You’re too rich to do it well. Word of advice - don’t smile like you’re hiding something, smile like you’re keeping a secret.”

Claude pulled back a little, and Dimitri saw that he was almost pouting. “You don’t know me.”

“I know things about you that you don’t know about yourself.” Yuri looked at Dimitri, expression gentle and soft and bland. Like sheep’s wool, or dandelion fluff on the breeze. “Do you want to hang around Abyss a little longer too, Your Highness?”

Images of Byleth wielding his silver sword, flicking the blade in a deadly dance, spun through Dimitri’s mind. If he left Abyss now and never saw her again he would lose what little scrap of will to live he had left. Dimitri couldn’t keep losing good things. He was running out.

“Yes!” Dimitri said - a bit too quickly, a bit too empathetically. He coughed, forcing himself to settle down. “I mean - yes. As a future ruler, I should see how the other half lives. It’s important for a ruler to understand the needs of all of his people.”

It was perfectly true. It wasn’t what he was thinking, but it was perfectly true. Dimitri had the faint notion that perhaps he and Claude were missing the point of something important, something much bigger than them - than Claude’s secrets or Dimitri’s love story - but the allure of secrets and love was fairly overpowering at the moment. 

Easily, as easily as he said everything else, Yuri said, “My sister’s not on the market to entertain you. I can steer plenty of other lovely ladies or gentlemen your way, but she’s a little busy with her own work.” Yuri tilted his head, looking at Dimitri through half-lidded eyes. Dimitri flushed a little. “If you insist, I’d be happy to spare some time for you. But I’m afraid my sister is just too busy.” 

Claude stood up, chair skidding against the hard stone. “I just put my family’s name on this! As -” Claude said something quickly in Almyran, which completely flew over Dimitri’s head. “ - I am vouching for Prince Dimitri. I wouldn’t even say that for me, but I can sure as hell say it for him. You can trust us.” 

Yuri’s face was unchanged. “I’ve heard that one before.” 

And although Dimitri didn’t understand half the conversation - although he knew that there was subtext he wasn’t getting, that there were things about the world he just couldn’t see - he understood the right thing to do well enough for now. Standing in the midst of Abyss, it was clear.

Dimitri stood up, bowing low at Yuri. “I apologize for our intrusion. I see that my classmate and I have overstayed our welcome. I have no desire to add to the heavy burdens you and your village already bear. Please, if you can help escort us back to the surface, we’d be very grateful.”

When Dimtiri straightened, he saw a peculiar look on Yuri’s face. It was a little thoughtful, and a lot of another foreign emotion. “What will you do now that you know we’re here?”

“Ask Rhea how we can help,” Dimitri said immediately. Left implied: and confess to our wrongdoings, like good children. “Or you, if you’re amenable. Abyss is not located within my lands, but I am aware that many places like Abyss reside in the darkness of Faerghus. If I can do anything for you now - learn what you can teach me - then I consider it education on how to provide for my subjects in the future.”

“He’s sincere,” Claude said firmly. He stood up too, thumping his heart with a closed fist. “I haven’t been sincere since the poisoned fig incident, but I can swear too. We just want to help. So let us help - it can’t be every day you have two future leaders of Fodlan asking you what we can do for you.”

Yuri stared at them for a long few seconds, expression glazed smooth and unreadable, before he finally sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “And I suppose you want my sister as a tour guide.”

“You just said she’s busy,” Dimitri asked, tilting his head in confusion. “I assumed she wouldn’t be available to show us around.” 

Yuri narrowed his eyes - damn, the man was impeccable. Dimitri had attempted one subtle fib and he was caught out immediately. But the lie served its purpose, and something subtle in Yuri’s shoulders untensed. Dimitri hadn’t realized that they were tense at all.

Yuri opened his mouth and said -

“Boss! Did we really kidnap the prince of Faerghus?”

The door thumped open with such immense force that it smacked against the far wall. A truly giant man strode inside, followed closely on his heels by a blonde woman wearing an unsettling smile and a short dark-skinned woman picking at a cuticle. On the tail end of the party was Byleth. She nodded at Dimitri, who nodded back in a daze.

“I told them you were busy,” Byleth said serenely. 

“Yeah, busy with His Royal Highness!” The large man stopped in front of Dimitri and carefully scrutinized him from head to toe. Dimitri allowed himself to be scrutinized. “Damn! What are they feeding you Academy kids these days? You’re solid muscle. Not as much as me, but not bad either!”

Dimitri fought the urge to sweat. The women flanked the big guy, blinking at him curiously. “I train frequently.”

“Really? Guess Bye-Bye’s found another freak.” The dark-skinned woman yawned, nodding at Byleth as she stood at her brother’s side. “You should hang out. Hit each other with swords or whatever.” 

“Greetings to His Royal Highness and friend!” the blonde woman yelled, almost at the top of her voice. She put her hands on her hips, lifting her chin in the air. “Welcome to the home of Constance von Nuvelle! Our decor may be lacking, but our hospitality is second to none!”

“Really?” the other woman drawled. “I think the rats add some pizazz.”

“Silly Hapi! The rats are disgusting!”

“Bye-Bye eats garbage too, but we don’t give her a hard time about it.”

“Hospitality, huh?” Yuri smiled, and for the first time it seemed a little real. “Balthus, obviously you don’t have anything more important going on. Can you host our two noble young visitors? Who we didn’t kidnap?”

“We were a little kidnapped,” Claude said. 

Balthus grinned, propping a hand on a hip. “I dunno, are you paying me?” 

Quickly, Dimitri added, “We’ll compensate you for your efforts, of course.”

“Wait,” the dark-skinned woman asked the room, “are we holding you hostage? Because it sounds like we’re holding you hostage.”

“Sold, kid!” Balthus thumped a friendly hand on Dimtiri’s back. He didn’t stumble, which seemed to shock Balthus before he withdrew his hand and quickly covered up the motion. “You look like a good hand with a weapon. Not you, Almyran guy, you look like a wimp.” Claude narrowed his eyes, but Balthus just looked backwards at Byleth. “You should spar with our new friend, Byleth. I’ll finally get to see you knock a different musclehead on the ground!”

Constance squealed, clapping her hands. “Byleth and the new children can play together! Oh, how heartwarming! Socialization is a rare opportunity for Bylie indeed!” She looked at Yuri and stage whispered, “We cannot afford to lose this chance, Yuri!”

“Byleth doesn’t know a lot of kids her own age,” the dark-skinned woman told Dimitri and Claude. “She’s…a little awkward.”

Byleth blinked at them.

“Wow,” Claude muttered, “you don’t say.”

“I forgive you for holding a sword to my neck,” Dimitri said earnestly. “You were doing the right thing.”

“Seriously, are we holding you hostage or not?”

 Yuri’s eye twitched. But his posture had fully loosened, and the presence of the strangers seemed to make him breathe a little easier. “We aren’t. And Byleth isn't a puppy we need to socialize, Hapi. You know how noble boys are.”

“Noble boy and his loyal vassal,” Claude added quickly, sticking stubbornly to the bit. Dimitri had no idea why, but Claude rarely vocalized his reasons for doing anything. “What do you think, Byleth? Want to hang out with us, or want to stay with your brother?”

Byleth stared at both of them unblinkingly. Finally, after a long few seconds of thought, Byleth said, “I want to train with Dimitri.” 

Hapi shot a canny look at Yuri. “Balthus’ll supervise. Connie and I too, if you want.” 

For a long second Dimitri thought Yuri was going to say no anyway. Dimitri would have accepted it. It would have robbed Dimitri of the only good thing left in his life, but he would have accepted it. Good things came and left all of the time, and part of life was learning how to deal with that. Dimitri liked to fancy himself an expert in it. He could lose one more thing - one flash of hope. 

But Yuri only sighed. “Alright. Supervised. Now get out of my office, all of you, I’m far too busy to juggle nobility on top of everything else.” Claude perked up. “All of you. You want to talk about Rhea - we’ll do it after dinner.” 

“Understood!” Claude bowed at Yuri again, and Dimitri hastily copied him. “You won’t regret opening your doors to us, sir!”

“Uh-huh.” Left unsaid - he definitely already was. “Out of my office, then. I’ve been away for too long and I have a lot of work to catch up on.”

Byleth tilted her head, a frown tugging at her lips. “You should leave less often. Your work piles up. It stresses you out.” 

Yuri gave her a big smile, as if he was keeping a secret. “But if I don’t leave, I’ll never experience the joy of seeing you again.” 

“You’re corny, Yuri.” 

“Love turns even the best of us into cornballs.” Yuri and Byleth shared a look, empty and opaque, but in that blankness Dimitri saw something far deeper than he had ever experienced. “Just look at Constance. Every time she looks at herself in the mirror she gets sillier.” 

“Excuse me, my sweet Yuri -”

“You’re excused, my darling Constance.”

“Must we fight,” Hapi panned, monotone and disinterested. “We’re a family. Look. You’ll make the baby cry.”

Byleth blinked at Hapi. “But I can’t cry.” 

“Look. You’ll give the baby psychological issues.” 

Balthus laughed again, cracking his knuckles with a pop that echoed throughout the cramped office. “This’ll be fun! It’s been a while since we’ve had a good adventure, eh Yuri?”

“Yes,” Yuri said, “that’s altogether what I’m afraid of.”

Truthfully, at that point Dimitri was no longer listening. He was just looking at Byleth, the girl who could not cry. And Byleth looked back at him, the boy whose heart was always crying. They saw each other, the heart-burdened and the heartless, and something in one reached out to balance the other.

And although the weight of the world above them crushed Dimitri’s shoulders, although they stood within damp and filthy slums tucked into the bowels of the planet, for those precious few seconds Dimitri and Byleth existed in the world with no obligation to anybody but each other.

_____________

ii. 

Yuri was sitting in this bathroom fruitlessly scrubbing blood out of his one good outfit when he received word that Lady Rhea was requesting an audience. Because it was Rhea, he also received word that she was already waiting for him in the destroyed classroom. 

Damn it! He had just returned! And he didn’t have anything to wear!

In the end, he was forced to keep Lady Rhea waiting another fifteen minutes because he had to dig out an older, rattier outfit and re-do his makeup. Approach: ‘I’m in my twenties, my stare is cold and piercing, and damn it I belong in this conference room’. Then he had to waste another five minutes because his hair was a wreck and his hands still smelled like blood. By the time he finally speed-walked down the halls and skidded to a stop in front of the classroom doors Yuri was twenty minutes late and already fighting the urge to freak.

As always, he halted at the doors. He took a deep breath in, then out. His outfit was dingy, which made him feel like crap, but the power makeup helped pick up the slack. He inhaled, exhaled, shook out his limbs, and entered the classroom. 

Rhea was standing in front of a blackboard, her back turned to the door. She was dressed in an old brown cloak, but with the hood down and her beautiful green hair left to flow over her shoulders the figure was unmistakable as Rhea. She was writing in beautiful and flowing script on the blackboard with a piece of stubby chalk, and speaking in a low voice to the child standing next to her. The child was staring up at her, eyes wide, chewing on a knuckle. Th child’s dark blue hair was pulled into a stubby ponytail, and she was wearing only a tattered black dress and swimming in a brown jacket sized for a large adult man. 

“ - your name. See, this is the B…like ‘bye’. Can you say ‘bye’?” The child blinked owlishly up at Rhea. “That’s alright. You’ll get it. You’re doing a great job already.” 

Yuri coughed, and Rhea quickly turned around. With a strange start Yuri noticed that she was dressed down even more than usual, her face plain and wearing only a simple white dress underneath the cloak. Without her own makeup, she seemed tired. She smiled wanly at Yuri, who bowed back. The child turned around too, gnawing fastidiously at her knuckle. 

“Yuri. I’m sorry to call upon you again so quickly after your return. Did all go well?”

“The job was done.” Deepen your voice, sound older - sound disaffected, yet sincere. Yuri wondered if he would ever live long enough that he could stop pretending to be older. “The deceased is no longer a threat to the church.”

“He was a threat to the safety of Fodlan,” Rhea said firmly. Yuri wasn’t sure about that one, but he did appreciate Rhea’s conscientious efforts to only toss absolute bastards into his pen. “I’m afraid I must ask something of you yet again, Yuri. This is important. I cannot fully disclose to you why this mission is so important, but please trust me when I say that this is a matter extremely close to my heart.”

Yuri straightened, folding his hands behind his back. He wanted to die a bit. Another important mission? As if managing Abyss, captaining his rogues, and assassinating bastards weren’t enough missions? 

How long would she keep punishing him? 

But Yuri just bowed. It was no effort at all to keep his expression placid. “I can accomplish any mission you give me, my lady.”

“I know. That’s why I’m trusting you with this.” Rhea put both hands on the girl’s shoulder and squeezed. The girl squirmed uncomfortably. You and me both, kid. “Yuri, this is Byleth. Byleth, this is Yuri. Why don’t you say hi?”

Byleth stared at Yuri, gnawing on her finger. Somebody probably ought to slap those knuckles with a ruler. She wasn’t a young child - twelve or thirteen, perhaps - but the habit and the wide eyes made her seem younger. 

Yuri gave her his special ‘talking to vulnerable kids’ smile. “How do you do, my lady?”

Byleth stared at Yuri. A theme. 

Rhea frowned, squeezing Byleth’s shoulder one last time before dropping her hands. “She hasn’t talked much since it happened. She…doesn’t seem to remember anything.”

“Anything about what happened?”

“Anything at all. She can’t seem to recall anything about her family or her life. Darling, you ought to get your knuckle out of your mouth.” Rhea ducked her head, staring steadfastly at Byleth. The girl slowly dropped her knuckle from her mouth, looking a little spooked, before Rhea lifted her head again. “Byleth here was kidnapped. There are…some forces in Fodlan that place great value in Byleth. I don’t know how they learned about her, but they haven’t left her in peace since they found out. They’ve tried to kidnap her several times, but their latest attempt was successful. The Church knights were only able to rescue her two days ago. The knight who rescued her brought her to me immediately, and now I must bring her to you.”

“Have you spoken with Aelfric about this?”

“Of course. He’s already given his consent.” Rhea’s eyes glimmered strangely in the light. Sometimes the only emotion from that woman Yuri could truly understand was the dark depths of her sadness. “Discretion is of the utmost importance. The people after her will not give up.” 

Ah. Yuri understood. “Does she have a valuable crest?”

Rhea put a hand on Byleth’s head, slowly stroking her hair. Byleth went cross-eyed looking upwards and gawking at the hand. “Byleth is a very special girl.”

Alright, so don’t tell him. “You want to hide her and her family in Abyss?” 

But Rhea just shook her head, expression mournful. “Byleth is an orphan. She will be alone in Abyss. That’s why I must ask for your help, Yuri.”

In the girl’s big dark eyes Yuri saw only trouble. Abyss sheltered plenty of people in hiding, but the people after Byleth seemed to be on a different level. If hiding the girl here brought danger into Abyss, then…

Then she was still a girl who needed help. Yuri would deal with any danger as it came. 

“Madame Birch will be happy to take her in.” Yuri smiled at Byleth again, taking care to crinkle his eyes and gave it positive energy. “My friend Madame Birch takes care of kids just like you, Byleth. She’ll be so excited to meet you. I know some girls her age in your house who’ve been begging me for another friend.” 

But Rhea just shook her head, expression somber and firm. “The forces after Byleth are powerful. I need to place her with the strongest person in Abyss - the person most able to protect her. That’s you, Yuri. Please take her yourself.”

Ah. What?

For the first time, Yuri had to fight to keep his expression and tone still. “My lady, my workload frequently takes me out of Abyss.”

“Then I can reduce your workload.”

That perked Yuri’s ears. He was a fool for not recognizing it immediately. Rhea was desperate. Her emotional involvement in this was far greater than keeping a tool out of the hands of the enemy. Byleth had to be family somehow - maybe even a secret daughter. Having a secret daughter of Lady Rhea in Yuri’s back pocket…under his exclusive supervision…

It was a death knell if anything happened to the kid. But the leverage was too good to pass up.

Fuck, he could even negotiate right here and now. He ought to send Byleth out of the room for this, but it was important that she understood what was happening and why. As much as she seemingly could - the girl may be a little touched. It didn’t matter, obviously, but it would necessitate a change in approach.                 

“Well,” Yuri said slowly, “the greatest distraction from Abyss would be my jobs. I would like to stay in Abyss full-time. Give her a more consistent upbringing.”

Rhea’s eyebrow quirked upwards, but Yuri was unrepentant. She knew what she was doing by looping him in. “I’ll reduce the quantity of jobs I assign you.”

“To once every four months, perhaps.”

“Once every two.” 

“That would be highly detrimental for Byleth’s childhood development.”

Evenly, Rhea said, “Going forth, I will give you a job every three months at maximum. Is that a deal?”

That was fucking fantastic. Yuri was almost lightheaded, but he pressed on. “Sounds like a deal. But raising a child is no simple matter, my lady. Child-proofing the environment, educating her, feeding her…Abyss is run on a razor-thin budget. The expenses concern me.” 

Rhea sighed. “I will funnel more money into your personal budget to compensate for the expense.” Yuri waited patiently. “And into the Abyss orphanages. Anything else, Yuri?”

She could be such a sucker sometimes. Sometimes Yuri wondered if she let him do it. Definitely not. Probably not. 

“I’m satisfied. You’re as generous as always, Lady Rhea.”

“This is in exchange for Byleth’s safety.” Rhea’s expression sobered, the soft silk solidifying into stone. “In exchange for what I’m giving you, I need her safety absolutely guaranteed. Nothing can happen to this girl.”

“No need to fret, my lady. Abyss is the safest place in Fodlan. Nobody even knows we exist.” Yuri bent down a little, smiling at Byleth. She had regained access to her knuckle, and was chewing it fastidiously again. “What do you say, Byleth? Want to go home with me?”

If the girl wasn’t touched, she must have understood. She must understand that the woman who would not admit to a relationship with her had just bartered for her residency with a teenage assassin, den mother, and prostitute. All things considered, the price had been insultingly low. 

Byleth just stared at him. Alright, maybe she didn’t understand. That would make this harder. Yuri really should have asked for more money. Teach the girl the first and most important lesson of her new life: that you should never sell yourself for less than what you were worth. Or market value, if you couldn’t get any buyers otherwise. Maybe this was just market value. 

Smile, Yuri. Smile. “I think we’re going to have a lot of fun together, Byleth.” 

Byleth blinked. At least she was a quiet child. This would be easy. 

______________

This was impossible.

This was shit. Absolute and complete shit. Why wasn’t she like Bernadetta? Yuri had thought she would be like Bernadetta. All Bernadetta did was nap, read, exhaustively detail the plot of her book, and cry. Byleth couldn’t even read. Apparently, when children couldn’t read, they decided to follow you around instead.

Everywhere. She followed him everywhere. When Yuri sat in the small storage room he co-opted as an office she crawled underneath his desk and swiped at his ankles. When Yuri visited the rogue’s encampments and gave the leadership its newly tightened security measures, she ran around the training field and started waving wooden training swords around. It took three rogues to wrest a sword from her. When Yuri made the rounds of Abyss and talked to its citizens, hearing every problem and offering every condolence he could, she hovered at his heels and gawked at every conversation with wide eyes. 

It was like having another googly-eyed shadow. Yuri didn’t have five seconds to himself anymore. He couldn’t even visit the tavern and unwind by flirting with one of his regular hook-ups - something about having a thirteen year old (twelve? Fourteen?) hovering at your elbow really killed your game. This must be what the older girls used to refer to as cockblocking. 

Byleth still hadn’t said a word. She observed, but never really listened. Still couldn’t read or write. She could catch the rats scuttling around the gutters with her bare hands. The girl may be touched. Which, again, didn’t matter - but it made it extraordinarily difficult to convey to her the importance of ‘me time’. Or ‘don’t eat that’. Or ‘put down that sword’.

It was official. Byleth was a demon. Figured that the wolf in sheep’s clothing would spawn a feral little wolf cub. Yuri should have charged more. 

At least Aelfric had his back. The cardinal had little time to sneak down into Abyss, but he had begun sparing whatever time he could towards playing with Byleth. Aelfric practically begged Yuri to allow him to spend time entertaining Byleth, saving Yuri from the effort of begging Aelfric to take her. Last time Yuri checked, Aelfric spent their time together teaching Byleth her letters in the destroyed classroom. And thank the goddess for that. 

“I don’t understand why she didn’t ask me,” Aelfric said, for roughly the hundredth time. They were sitting at a stone desk in the classroom, eating a coarse but filling breakfast. Byleth was cramming a hunk of bread the size of her face into her mouth. “I have my duties, but I would have gladly forfeited them for the sake of this child. You’re barely more than a child yourself, Yuri -”

Yuri couldn’t help but bark a sharp laugh. “You do realize that you and my mother are the only people who have said that in a decade.”

“That doesn’t make it untrue,” Aelfric said gently. Yuri ducked his head, focusing on pressing a napkin into Byleth’s hands and directing her to wipe her own face. There was no way this girl even knew how to do her makeup. Ridiculous. “Rhea shouldn’t have put this responsibility on you. I don’t know what she was thinking, honestly.” 

That made Yuri feel a little defensive. Byleth pushed away her plate, gnawing on her final hunk of bread, and Yuri pulled over her writing tablet. Aelfric had even sprung for a few pieces of paper and pencils dyed bright colors. Yuri hurriedly placed the paper and pencils in front of her. Last he remembered, drawing was an activity favored by younger children, but Byleth couldn’t exactly partake in the age-appropriate activities of gossiping, bullying other girls, sewing, or reading. Goddess, did she even know how to sew or embroider? Yuri would have to teach her.

“I could beat anybody in Abyss in a straight fight,” Yuri said. He hoped his defensiveness didn’t show. It was a little harder to hide with Aelfric. “Even you. More importantly, I know how to be stealthy and hide myself and others. I know the Abyss system like the back of my hand. As far as Abyssans go, I understand why Lady Rhea thought I was the best choice.”

“I’m not doubting your talent, Yuri,” Aelfric soothed, “I just don’t understand why Rhea couldn’t have put Byleth in the care of an adult. You have enough responsibilities of your own without adding another one on the heap.”

Yuri bristled. “I’m almost eighteen.”

“Eighteen with the burdens of a thirty year old.” Aelfric sighed, and Yuri guiltily subsided too. It wasn’t right to get defensive at Aelfric. After everything the man did to help him, he at least deserved the benefit of the doubt. “I just want you to enjoy what remains of your youth. There’s a sweet nun volunteering at the orphanage -” Yuri groaned. “Yuri, why can’t you hear me out on this?”

“You’re always going on about finding a nice girl, Aelfric -”

“Because you’re re-traumatizing yourself with all of these men,” Aelfric said patiently. Yuri looked down at his hands, restraining himself from picking at a manicured cuticle. “Look at you, Yuri. You haven’t changed any of your habits. You’re still trying to appeal to men. You have to begin to heal.”

There was something heavy and old in Yuri’s chest. It was a burden that never grew lighter - a pain that never retreated. The best he could do was ignore it. But Yuri kept picking at it all the same. “It’s not my fault that men continue to approach me.”

“But it’s your responsibility to turn them down. And men wouldn’t approach you so often if you didn’t wear all that makeup.” 

When Yuri spoke, his voice was quieter than he expected. He had wanted it to be louder, stronger. But something had cut it down. “It’s not for them…”

A small, bony finger poked Yuri’s side.

He looked over at Byleth, who was staring at him with her usual wide, serious eyes. She picked up her picture and presented it to Yuri, who took it and inspected the image carefully. 

It was of them. The girl was a far better artist than he expected, and although the proportions were a little wonky Yuri could clearly recognize all three of them. They were sitting on crates outside of a tent - a tent that resembled the ones in Abyss, but was more reminiscent of a standard issue mercenary’s tent. Yuri was drawn with great care, sitting straight backed on the crate and staring straight at the viewer. His makeup was exaggerated and poorly applied. Aelfric sat on Yuri’s left, wrinkles clearly outlined and his blood-red habit engulfing his figure. The red lines on the habit seemed closer to bloodstains. 

In comparison to the rest of the drawing, Byleth’s figure was remarkably undetailed. She only drew the faint outlines of herself, with a few expressive lines demarcating an abstract face. The greatest level of detail was in the giant brown jacket she never took off - the careful impressions of its stitches and metal buttons were a strange contrast to the ghost wearing it. 

“This is excellent,” Yuri said, genuinely impressed. Sometimes it was easy to think of her as younger than thirteen-or-so, but at other times her true age was perfectly obvious. Even the ghostly Byleth felt more like an artistic choice.  “I like your usage of color. It’s very powerful.” He pointed at a spot in the upper left of the page, tucked in the corner closest to Byleth and furthest than everybody else. It was just a tight swirl of green pencil - the gradient of density between the thick middle and loose outsides giving the green a strange halo-like impression. “Is this the sun?”

Byleth gave him a disgusted look. Yuri could guess: ‘the sun isn’t green, moron’. Potentially: ‘what sun? What’s a sun? I know only the Depths’. 

“Then what is it?” 

Byleth tugged the drawing away from him, replacing it on the table and attacking the page with a pencil. Chewing the edge of the pencil, mind working furiously, she carefully wrote out a word. She stared at the word, scratched it out, and then tried again. She put down her pencil, nodded in satisfaction, and showed it to Yuri again.

He squinted at the page. In messy, juvenile script underneath the halo - with an arrow carefully drawn towards the halo, in case he missed the reference - she had written ‘SOHTHESE’. 

“Sohthese?” Yuri asked, hiding confusion. “Is that a friend of yours?” Byleth shook her head. Then she nodded. “Is…that a yes or no?”

“She’s making great progress, but her spelling needs work. Let me see.” Aelfric held out a hand, and Yuri silently passed him the page. Aelfric took one look at the page and his eyebrows jumped. “I think she means ‘Sothis’. Is that correct, Byleth?” Byleth nodded vigorously. “Where did you hear that name, Byleth? I don’t think I ever told you that.” 

Wait. That name was a little familiar. “Is that the name of a saint?” Yuri asked. “I didn’t know you were giving her catechism classes.”

“I’m not. And it’s the name of the Goddess herself. It’s not very well used - typically only scriptural scholars use it with any regularity.” Aelfric frowned down at Byleth, and for the first time his expression seemed troubled. “Where could you have heard that word…?”

“Wow,” Yuri panned, “I wonder where the secret daughter of Lady Rhea heard the name of the goddess. The world may never know.” 

“Please, Yuri, be serious.” Aelfric was still frowning, staring at the paper intently. Byleth gestured for him to give the paper back, but he didn’t seem to notice. He just stared and stared at the paper, walking mental paths far beyond the provincial little world of Yuri and Byleth. 

“Aelfric, I think she wants the paper back.”

“What? Oh, yes.” Aelfric looked up, still somewhat dazed. “Could I potentially keep this, Byleth?” Byleth shook her head no. “I see. That’s alright, then.” He passed it back, and Byleth tugged it firmly out of his hands. She replaced it on the table, smoothing it over carefully. 

“I didn’t figure you for the religious type,” Yuri told Byleth. Byleth shrugged. “Are you going to become a nice nun too?”

“There’s nothing wrong with marrying a good woman and settling down,” Aelfric scolded lightly. “A home and a family is the greatest joy a young man can have. If you don’t change your behavior, you’ll never find happiness. I’m only worried about you.”

An extensive, agonizing rip split the air. 

Byleth was holding up the carefully constructed drawing in clear view of both men. Making direct and unblinking eye contact, she looked at Aelfric and ripped the paper straight down between Yuri and Aelfric. Yuri and Aelfric stared at her in shocked silence as she finished cruelly ripping Aelfric from the paper, balling up his figure in one clenched fist and carefully replacing the cropped page on the table. Yuri, Byleth, and Sothis looked very happy together. Aelfric’s face was split in half. 

Silence burdened the room. Aefric and Yuri gaped at Byleth in pure shock. Byleth happily took a blue pencil and began threading in streaks of blue in the green halo. 

A bark of laughter escaped Yuri’s chest. His chest was light and full, and the thick iron bars that held his broken pieces together loosened and allowed him to breathe. Another burst of laughter escaped the abandoned prison, then another, and then the inmates began running the asylum. Yuri began wheezing, clutching his own stomach as he laughed uncontrollably. 

Then Byleth laughed too, a light and ugly snort. It was the only sound he had ever heard from her. After weeks, the first and only sound Yuri had ever heard from Byleth was laughter. No tears, no screams of pain, no words begging for help, no moans for food - just laughter. A small smile painting the face of the girl as silent as death.

Yuri and Byleth, two prisoners unrestrained for the first time that they could remember, laughed together in defiance. 

In the end, Byleth had given the picture to Yuri. She had forgotten about the whole incident after a few months - a few years later, when prompted about that picture and the Goddess, Byleth would just stare blankly in confusion. She didn’t remember those days well.

Yuri remembered them. He remembered the picture too. He had placed the picture between two pages of a book and hidden it inside a desk. It remained in that desk for a very long time, and nobody but him ever knew it existed.

_____________

And then he lost her. 

He lost her. Aelfric asked if he could babysit her for the day, and because Yuri was tired and wanted some time to himself and to actually go on a freaking date for once he said yes, and when Byleth’s curfew at 2100 passed she and Aelfric still were not home. Aelfric knew to get her home by curfew. He knew that Byleth had to stay in Abyss for her own safety. He knew.

Yuri combed all of Abyss, top to bottom. Images of Aelfric and Byleth floating face down in the canal flashed throughout his mind. But a rogue stationed at one of the entrances from the monastery into Abyss said that he let Aelfric and Byleth through the entrance only a few hours ago. Apparently Yuri had asked Aelfric to take Byleth to the chapel to pray. The guard hadn’t thought twice about it. Yuri was Byleth’s guardian, but it was Aelfric. Some people were above suspicion. Some people could take children wherever they wanted. 

Yuri sprinted back to his room and threw on his spare pilfered Academy uniform, stolen from the closet of a noble boy who should have known better. He pulled on the jacket as he ran, feet thumping in time with the omnipresent dripping of water and the squeak of rats, and his mind was nothing but blaring static as he unscrewed the entrance to one of the least-known entrances into the monastery. 

He climbed the ladder at top speed, stopping only to grab the stone handle at the very top of the chute. He pushed full force against the handle, and after a second he heard the hard grind of stone on stone as the mechanism was activated and shifted the statue of Saint Cethlenn to the side. It was one of the finicky trapdoors that was almost impossible to access from above ground, but relatively easy from below. Yuri often had morbid daydreams about Garreg Mach falling under attack and how he would evacuate the entire population of the school out through the tunnels. 

Yuri clambered out of the tunnel, hoisting himself into Seteth’s office. He looked around - empty, but the sound of voices echoed from the adjacent room - and quickly stood up so he could push the statue back into place. The voices were Rhea’s familiar cadence and another unfamiliar deep male voice. In any other circumstance, Yuri would have cared about revealing himself in front of a stranger.  Today, he barely thought about it. Yuri burst out of Seteth’s office and skidded into the main chambers, ignoring Seteth’s cry of alarm and the rustling sounds of the guard’s armor. Yuri only halted when he was directly in front of Rhea, looking up into her alarmed green eyes.

Yuri bent double, leaning on his knees and gasping for breath. Rhea leaned over him, placing a firm hand on his shoulder. The other man in the room was absolutely huge, with big hair and bigger muscles. If it wasn’t for the Academy student’s uniform he would have assumed the man was in his thirties.

“Whoah,” the big guy said. “Where the hell did you come from?”

“Where,” Yuri gasped, hard and heavy, “is Aelfric?” 

Rhea paled, eyes widening. Fear. Why fear? “He told me he was visiting you today. What’s wrong?”

“Sounds great! So it’s official that nobody knows where Father Aelfric was, then?” The big guy waved around a thick folder of paper, one hand propped on his hip. “Because I hung out in his office for an hour waiting for him to show up to our appointment. He said it was important, too! All this stuff about helping save me from expulsion. And the guy can’t even show up? We’re talking about my future here!”

“Our guard saw him taking Byleth to the surface!” Yuri cried frantically. The big guy’s brows furrowed, but Yuri couldn’t be assed about him right now. “I can’t find Aelfric or Byleth anywhere in Abyss! Lady Rhea, you have -”

But Rhea was already straightening and turning to the guards. In a tone he had never heard before, she said, “Find Cardinal Aelfric and bring him to me immediately. Shut down the monastery until he and Byleth are found. Nobody in or out.” 

“I know where he might have gone.” The big guy flipped the folder open, flashing messy stacks of paper and ripped pages from books. “I got bored waiting around for him, so I went through his desk.” No wonder this guy was about to get expelled. “Never knew one guy could get so into his ancient mausoleum hobby. Would you happen to know anything about this, Lady Rhea?”

Lady Rhea was silent. Yuri was still shaking. He should have been shocked, he should have been horrified. But he wasn’t. Yuri knew. Yuri had always known, he just hadn’t wanted to see it. 

“This is all my fault,” Yuri whispered. He wanted to throw up. He knew this sort of nausea - the kind invoked by visceral disgust at something you found within yourself. “I let him take her. I let him run off with her. This is all my…”

The way Aelfric looked at her. The way he was constantly volunteering to babysit or entertain her for the day or homeschool her. Yuri had given him everything he wanted - every unsupervised visit, constant knowledge of her location, everything. Because Yuri had trusted Aelfric. 

Trusted. He could be doing anything to her right now, because Yuri had trusted.

Hands, unimaginably large and hairy. Sagging flesh pressing against his own. Was this how Byleth felt right now? Were big hands on her chest? Awful pain, burning like fire. What did Byleth look like when she was in that pain? Did she make the same sounds he had? The squeals and moans. Did they like hearing them from her too? 

“Yuri. Yuri, you have to breathe.” Lithe, strong hands enveloped Yuri’s hands and squeezed tightly. The melodic sound of Lady Rhea’s voice barely permeated the haze. “You’re at Garreg Mach, Yuri. You’re in the home of the Goddess. You’re seventeen. I’m here. Nothing may harm you so long as I’m here.” 

“This is my fault,” Yuri gasped. “This is all my fault.” 

“No, Yuri. Look at me.” Yuri shuddered a final breath before looking up at Rhea. Her expression was intent, but she was still so calm and composed. Yuri couldn’t say the same at all. “This is my fault. I didn’t share my suspicions with you. I’m the one who encouraged you to trust him. This was - this was all me.” 

It was? 

Rhea had known? Rhea had known that Aelfric wasn’t honest? She had known that Aelfric would take Byleth and she hadn’t said anything -

“I know.” Rhea’s expression creased, and a deep pain surfaced in her features. “I just thought…he loved her mother as I once did. Surely he would feel the same as I do…but I suppose not. People still disappoint.” 

Yuri tugged his hands out of Rhea’s, and she let them go. He scrubbed at his face, constantly fighting to keep hold of his breaths and sanity. He was not about to have another stupid flashback. He wasn’t. Not in Garreg Mach and not in front of the stupid Archbishop. He wasn’t going to catastrophize. Byleth was fine. He had fucked up and failed her and it’s all his fault that terrible things are definitely happening to her right now, but it was fine.

“I hate men so damned much,” Yuri muttered miserably. Some part of him was appalled that he had cursed in front of the archbishop, but every other part of him was far more concerned with far more important things. “I’m never trusting a man again. All men do is make children suffer.”

The big guy laughed awkwardly, passing the file folder to the somber Rhea before scrubbing the back of his neck with one hand. “On behalf of men, I guess I have to apologize. I like to think we’re not all that bad…not that I can blame a - um, you, for how you feel. Tell you what, alright?” The big guy flexed an arm, as if he was at a bar trying to impress Yuri, and clapped his hand on his admittedly impressive bicep. “I’ll save this little girl myself! I’ll chase down Father Aelfric, kick his ass, get that little girl safely home, and redeem men in the eyes of women and - ah, you, everywhere! Or my name ain’t Balthus von Adalbrecht!”

A von Adalbrecht. Great. Yuri couldn’t repress the sneer. “Your uncle yells the name of his wife’s brother in bed.”

Balthus stared at Yuri blankly. “How do you know that?”

“How do you think?”

“Oh. Oh! Oh, gross! Why’d you have to say that, man!”

“Blame him,” Yuri snapped. “I don’t need the help of some meathead nobleman. I’ll rescue her myself.” 

But Balthus just shrugged - as if this really was such a simple thing. “Why can’t we both rescue her?” 

“Because I don’t know you!”

“I just introduced myself. Balthazar von Adalbrecht, call me Balthus.” Balthus stuck out his hand, waiting expectantly for a handshake. “And who’re you supposed to be, kid from nowhere?” 

“I’m nobody. You ought to forget you ever saw me.” Rhea was already going to give him an earful over allowing himself to be seen. But Balthus was standing so expectantly, and despite that awful little trivia Yuri just shared he was still looking him in the eyes. “What do you even want from me?”

“What, you think that just because I want to help it means I want something from you?” Yes, that was exactly what Yuri thought. He wasn’t stupid. “Listen, pal. Even nobodies need some help here and there. I’m not exactly a saint, but any half-decent person would want to help you out. Since I’m the strongest, coolest guy in Garreg Mach, that means I have to help. It’s not exactly complicated.”

“There’s no such thing as decent people,” Yuri said sourly. 

Balthus whistled. “You’re a regular beam of sunshine, aren’tcha?”

“I haven’t seen the sun in weeks.”

“You haven’t what now?”

“Take Balthus with you, Yuri.” Lady Rhea’s tone brooked no argument, and Yuri had to give up. It was always a waste of time arguing with a noble. They would just take what they wanted anyway. “You two will take our elite church knights and rescue Byleth. I can lead the way - I think I know where Aelfric and Byleth are.” Rhea’s expression darkened, sending something crawling up Yuri’s spine. Seeing a dangerous expression on her felt…well, it felt more dangerous than usual. “I suspect he is desecrating a corpse right now.” 

“Wow,” Balthus said, impressed. “What the hell did I just walk into?”

“Captain Jeralt will arrive with the forces soon. We’ll leave then.” Rhea turned around, and Yuri and Balthus exchanged troubled looks. Her voice was poisonous. If she sounded like this, what expression was she hiding so carefully? “Aelfric will learn what Byleth’s true family is capable of.”

“Hell yeah!” Balthus cried, pumping a fist. “Go, fam!”

“We aren’t fam!” Yuri snapped. “What does that even mean?”

“But Lady Rhea just said that the bad guy’s gonna learn what -”

“That doesn’t make you fam.”

“But I’m on the team, and the team’s fam, so -”

“What is fam!”

At the time, Yuri’s only consolation had been the fact that he wouldn’t have to deal with Balthus for very long. He was a strong fighter with a compassionate heart, but if Yuri never saw another wealthy and spoiled nobleman again it would be too soon. Yuri hadn’t noticed when Byleth entered his heart, but that final and disastrous kidnapping session had proven it - whether they wielded the weapon or were the weapon, the people closest to you always hurt the most. Better to close your heart.

There were a lot of things Yuri hated about himself. The list was too long to count. But there was always one thing about himself that Yuri hated the most. One thing he just couldn’t stand.

Yuri just couldn’t close his heart. He just couldn’t do it. Every time he failed, and every time he had regretted it. There was no benefit to letting people in. He just couldn’t stop.

But Balthus had saved Byleth’s life that day. So maybe there was a benefit or two. Every once in a great while. 

If you were lucky. 

_________

Three days after Yuri and a moron saved a little girl from a bastard, Abyss received a visitor. 

Yuri received him outside the ruined classroom. It would probably be more professional to bring him to Yuri’s office or something, but Yuri frankly intended to get rid of him as quickly as possible. Team up with the church knights once and suddenly they think that they have the right to go stomping all around Abyss. But you couldn’t exactly tell the captain of the church knights to get off your lawn, so Yuri told Byleth that he would be back in a few minutes and stood outside the classroom in increasingly frustrated wait. 

Byleth had made big eyes at him. She obviously hadn’t wanted him to go. Ugh. He really hoped that this wouldn’t turn into a surprise administrative meeting that took five hours and never accepted Yuri’s input into anything. Yuri was re-teaching Byleth poker - she had undoubtedly already learned before she lost her memory, which was another strike against the ‘secret lovechild of Lady Rhea’ theory that had been admittedly punctured by the corpse of her mother - and she was unsurprisingly excellent at it. Girl was a genius in math.

But Jeralt didn’t show up wearing armor. He was wearing casual, battered furs, leather, and a familiar canvas jacket. Surface people were always tense and anxious in Abyss, expecting to get mugged by rats with daggers at any moment, but there was a different quality about Jeralt’s anxiety. He seemed as if he was steeling himself for something. 

“Yuri.” Jeralt’s voice was always attractively husky, but it was closer to hoarse now. “Doing well?”

Yuri bowed, noting the bandage on Jeralt’s temple. “Yes, sir. All healed up. And you? That hit you took looked nasty.” 

Jeralt huffed a laugh, rubbing the bandage. “I’ve taken hits from bigger monsters. Don’t worry about it. I would have come to visit earlier, but they only let me out of bed this morning.” Jeralt cleared his throat, shifting on his feet. “Ah…is Byleth doing alright?”

“She’s been having nightmares, but she’s fine.”

“She is?” Jeralt looked unreasonably alarmed. “Is she waking up at night? What are you doing to help? Tea -”

“She’s been sleeping in my bed the past few nights, so I’m keeping an eye on her.” Yuri eyed Jeralt, suspicions only growing. There was something off about this conversation. “Can I help you, captain?”

“Right. Ah, right.” Jeralt shifted again and coughed. Mysteriously, he took off his cap and held it tightly. “I was hoping to drop in and say hello. See how she is.” 

Like hell he would.

“Byleth is busy doing her schoolwork.” Yuri’s voice could have frozen a flame. “You’ll have to come back later.”

“We don’t have to talk.” There was something old and weary in Jeralt. His husky voice was more of a rasp. “I just want to see her.”

Before he could restrain himself, Yuri snapped, “And why do you want to see her so badly?”

Snapping at the captain of the church knights. Fantastic. This was how you protected people - by alienating everybody else who wanted to help. That would do it. 

Jeralt did want to help. The man had been withdrawn and quiet during their rescue mission, but he had been the first to rescue Byleth’s mother’s corpse and prevent it from melting into the monster. He probably would have been the first to rescue Byleth if Yuri hadn’t gotten there first - if Yuri hadn’t used a careful vein of magic to swap positions with her. Byleth had landed safely near the entrance and Aelfric had found a nasty surprise when he turned to look down upon a girl laid out on an altar and came eye-to-eye with Yuri’s dagger. 

But that didn’t mean anything. Aelfric had helped Yuri and Byleth too, and look where that got them. Yuri didn’t know anything about Jeralt. He could have ulterior motives. He worked closely with Rhea, who was nothing but ulterior motives. The only person Yuri was certain didn’t have ulterior motives was Balthus, who was just clearly too stupid. 

Jeralt didn’t grow angry or defensive. He just looked a little sad. Yuri crossed his arms, fighting the urge to bristle. “How are you holding up, kid?”

“I wasn’t the one who was kidnapped.”

Jeralt huffed a small laugh. “It ain’t exactly easy on the onlookers, either. It’s alright if you’re not alright.”

“I’ll persevere somehow.” Yuri was quickly losing track of this conversation. Why was Jeralt asking about this? “Did Rhea tell you to check up on us?

“Rhea doesn’t know I’m here. She’s…strongly encouraged me to stay away from Abyss.” Jeralt’s mouth twisted unhappily. “She’s right. I really shouldn’t be here. I just…wanted to see her.” 

“And why is that?”

For a long, long moment, Jeralt didn’t answer. Great. He couldn’t even think of a good lie. He couldn’t even say that he wanted to make sure she wasn’t injured, or assure himself that he had gotten her out of there intact - Yuri would have even believed those bland excuses. But he had nothing to say for himself at all. How suspect. 

The door creaked open, and Yuri spun around just in time to see Byleth poking her head out of the classroom. Yuri opened his mouth, ready to reprimand her and shuffle her quickly back inside where no suspicious men resided, but he was too slow. The second Byleth saw Jeralt her eyes widened, and Yuri saw her eyes light up for the first time. 

“Jeralt!” Byleth cried. 

She dived forwards, and Jeralt automatically crouched down to accept the hug. They squeezed each other tightly - Byleth hanging on for dear life, Jeralt fighting shuddering breaths. His hand pressed on the back of her lead, warm and protective. 

So she could speak. Yuri had been wondering. Her first word of her new life was…Jeralt. That was fine. Good for her. And Jeralt.

“Hey, kid,” Jeralt rasped, throat thick. “How’ve you been?”

Byleth patted the top of his head. 

Alright, that was enough. Yuri took the white collar of Byleth’s neat little navy blue dress, pulling gently until he reeled her back away from Jeralt. The effect was somewhat like a scruffed kitten, but whatever worked. Yuri’s carefully tied puffy twin pigtails didn’t help the kitten impression. 

“Don’t run towards strange people,” Yuri scolded. “This is why you keep getting kidnapped.”

Byleth wriggled around until Yuri finally sighed and released her. Jeralt slowly rose, but Byleth ran back towards him and tugged hard at his jacket. Jeralt raised a patient eyebrow, watching Byleth carefully. 

Yuri had distantly noticed it before, but now that Byleth drew attention to the jacket it was obvious. It was a very familiar jacket. Not identical to Byleth’s old one - the giant canvas jacket that she never took off - but it was similar in fit and cut. 

“What do you need?” Jeralt asked. Byleth tugged harder at the jacket, as if she was trying to pull it off him. “Use your words, kid. You can do it.” Byleth heroically attempted to rip the jacket from Jeralt’s body. Yuri made a strangled noise, but Jeralt didn’t blink. “You have to start speaking up sometime. I bet Yuri over there wants to hear your voice too.” 

Byleth’s eyebrows ticked together, but she finally released the jacket. She stared fixedly at Jeralt, who amicably allowed himself to be stared at. Finally, she said, “Aelfric lost jacket.” 

Automatically, Yuri corrected, “Aelfric lost my jacket.”

“Aelfric lost my jacket,” Byleth parroted. She poked at Jeralt’s canvas jacket again. “I want the jacket again.”

Turned out that there was one way Byleth could be even more trouble - opening her mouth. Yuri sighed, already regretting his life. “Byleth, you’re being incredibly rude. You can’t just ask adults to -”

But Jeralt was already shucking his jacket, with no hesitation or thought, and passing it to Byleth. She brightened, clutching the thick material tightly and burying her face in it. She smelled it deeply, making Jeralt’s expression crease into something absolutely unfamiliar to Yuri, before swinging the jacket on and allowing it to swallow her up yet again. This edition went to her knees, looking far more like a baggy coat than anything else, but she beamed up at Jeralt in absolute joy anyway. She turned to Yuri, spreading her arms out and silently bragging about how great her new jacket was.

Something that should have been obvious weeks ago suddenly became extremely obvious. “You’re the one who gave her that first jacket. The one she never took off.” 

“She never took it off?” Jeralt smiled a little, but the weight on his shoulders only seemed to grow. “I gave it to her after I rescued her from her kidnappers last time. She was - ah, she just seemed cold. I assumed she had thrown it away or something.”

“You’re the one who rescued her?” Hadn’t Lady Rhea mentioned something about this? “Wait - are you the one who brought Byleth to Garreg Mach?”

“Yup. It’s why I wanted to see her again.” Jeralt patted the top of Byleth’s head, who swelled her chest in pride. “She’s picked up a habit of getting into trouble.”

That did explain it. No wonder he was invested. After so much work invested in keeping her alive, Yuri would want to check up on her too. Why couldn’t he just say that?

Byleth looked seriously up at Jeralt. “Thank you for the jacket.” 

“I knew you had manners in there somewhere.” Jeralt crouched down again, looking just above Byleth’s head. Yuri had noted weeks ago that she didn’t like eye contact, but it seemed that Jeralt knew that too. “Try not to lose that one. But if you do, come right back to me and I’ll give you another one. Alright?”

Byleth nodded. 

Jeralt sighed. He put a hand on her shoulder, squeezing lightly. Byleth leaned into the touch a little. “Be more careful from now on. Your world will only grow more dangerous as you get older. You have to be ready, so train hard.” Impulsively, he took the cap off his head and placed it on her own. It fell over her eyes immediately, far too large for her, but she hurriedly pushed it upwards. “Listen to that brother of yours. His life looks hard enough already, so don’t make it any harder.” 

Byleth’s eyes widened. “Brother?”

“Brother?” Yuri squawked. “Please, Captain, Rhea hired me to supervise her. This is just an arrangement.” 

Jeralt shifted to look at him, and Yuri saw flint in his eyes for the first time. “We need to separate Byleth from her past life even further. We don’t know if Aelfric told anybody about the identity of Byleth’s mother. Connecting her to you is safest for both of you. Guess I should have asked first, but it’s a matter of her safety.” 

“This is an arrangement.”

“Then arrange a fake relationship. You need some excuse for why you’re joined at the hip. Pretend she’s some orphan you took in under your wing - it’s not even a lie.” Jeralt straightened, turning to look at Yuri for the first time. His expression was somber and serious, but he looked smaller without his jacket. “Look, kid. I admit I wasn’t happy when Rhea passed her off to you. Rhea has her own reasons for everything she does, and you’re…” 

He trailed off, clearly struggling for political correctness, before Yuri took pity on him. “An ex-whore who moonlights as Rhea’s lackey?”

“Saints, kid, that’s not what I was about to say -”

“What’s a whore?” Byleth asked loudly.

Yuri looked down at her. “Somebody who’s so good at something that they never do it for free.” Byleth nodded sagely, and Yuri looked back up at Jeralt. Jeralt didn’t seem happy, but Yuri wasn’t paid enough to entertain him. “And even if you weren’t crass enough to say it, it’s the truth. You don’t trust Rhea and I do whatever she says. Trust me, Captain, I wouldn’t be happy either. You don’t have to cozy up to me.”

“I wasn’t happy because you’re seventeen years old,” Jeralt said firmly. Yuri rolled his eyes. Not this shit again. What was with adult men always reminding him that he was in his teens? Did they get off on it or something? “I knew Rhea would put her with somebody she trusted absolutely. I just didn’t want that person to be you.” 

Of course he didn’t! Who the hell would? Yuri was beginning to have a sneaking suspicion about Jeralt’s relationship to Byleth - nobody else would have thought to rescue a corpse before an imminent battle - and no self-respecting father would want their daughter around somebody like Yuri. Byleth was pure and innocent. As innocent as a thirteen year old could ever be - wiped clean of her old life, completely noncognizant of the world around her. How often had she seen the sun since she met Yuri? She hadn’t even spoken before now. The girl had a damned imaginary friend, for heaven’s sake. Byleth was innocent in every way, and Yuri was filthy.

“Saints, kid, don’t give me that face. It’s not because of your background. It’s just obvious that you have more than enough on your plate. Don’t you have a city to govern? Evil errands to run for Rhea? I just don’t know how the hell you have time.” 

“Do you think I can’t do it?” Yuri snapped. “I have more than one skillset, you know.”

Jeralt exhaled heavily, scrubbing his face. “You are the least charitable - never mind.” He was uncharitable? Maybe he just didn’t buy stupid lies. “None of this is coming out right. What I’m trying to say is that you need whatever help you can get. Calling yourself siblings would make your life easier. But I’m hardly going to force you into it. Do whatever you want, kid. I’m not in charge of you.” Slightly quieter, he said, “I’m not in charge of either of you.” 

Yuri wanted to call Jeralt a bad father. He knew already that Jeralt was probably the best father he’d ever met. Taking up a job with somebody he clearly hated for the sake of staying near a daughter he was barely allowed to see. Who he couldn’t even claim, because some mysteriously evil people were after her and she was safest in complete anonymity. Some fathers would cheer at the opportunity to ditch their daughters, but the pain in Jeralt’s voice was real. And yet he wanted to tie her to Yuri. 

It would only contaminate her. He was already ruining her. Yuri had to stay away, he had to keep her out - if only for her own sake. To protect her from Yuri, and to protect Yuri from the world. Yuri couldn’t let anybody else inside. Too dangerous for everybody.

But refusing Jeralt’s proposal wouldn’t protect her from the world. And maybe a father was thinking about a factor that Yuri had missed completely. 

The fact that her mother was a shockingly well-preserved corpse and her father had to disown her. Rhea was somehow related to her, which was bad enough, but she couldn’t claim her either. Even Yuri had a mother. To the world, Byleth was alone. That was…

“Fine.” Yuri had lost this battle. He had probably also lost the war. Whatever. He fought for his own side anyway. “But I won’t force her to call me that. She’s not terribly attached to me.”  

It was the rational thought. Yuri had repeatedly left her alone with a freak and allowed her to get kidnapped again. It was a miracle her real family hadn’t fired Yuri the second she got kidnapped. 

But Byleth’s brow furrowed in outrage. Yuri fought the urge to startle - he had almost forgotten she was there. “I like you.”

The words stopped Yuri short. He wasn’t sure why. They weren’t strange words, were they? 

His hesitation must have been obvious, even to Byleth, because she promptly grabbed him in a giant hug. It was small, comforting, and warm. Her small body fit nicely next to his, and when he folded his arms over her he could almost envelop her. 

Jeralt just gave him a wry grin. “I guess you were too far away to hear. Remember how I was right next to you when you swapped positions with her?” Yuri nodded. “When she appeared in your place, I scooped her up and put her on my horse immediately. I think she knew what had happened. She called out your name. Damn near tried to jump from my horse and run towards you too.” 

That didn’t seem right. But she had hugged him after the fight, hadn’t she? Balthus had called it adorable. Come to think of it, Balthus had asked if Byleth was his sister too…Yuri hadn’t known what to say. He didn’t know what to say now.

Jeralt propped a hand on a hip, smiling. “You see that, Byleth? Yuri didn’t know you liked him. From now on you’ll have to speak up and tell him you like him a lot.” Byleth nodded fastidiously. “Attagirl. Hey, can you take that book from the inside pocket and pass it to your brother? It has something he might want to see.” 

Byleth eagerly separated from Yuri and completed the errand, pulling out a small book from a jacket pocket and passing it to Yuri. Yuri opened it and began flipping through it, just barely catching scraps of documents and notes that came slipping out. 

“Check the last few pages,” Jeralt said. “We found it in Aelfric’s things. Actually, that klepto student found it. Is that guy a friend of yours or something?”

“Or something,” Yuri muttered. 

Byleth stared up at Jeralt. “Is Balthus my brother too?”

“No,” Yuri said.

Jeralt shrugged. “If you want. He’s rich, so maybe you can fleece him.”

“I already tried,” Yuri said distantly, flipping through the book. Something about four crests…notes on a very familiar crest. Balthus’ pilfered paperwork had already revealed that Aelfric had targeted him for his crest. That had burned. Yuri was trying not to think about it. “He’s broke and only attracted to older women.” 

Pity, too - Yuri could have had an excellent sucker on that reel. He made his move during the ‘post-rescue a little girl drinking party!’, but Balthus just pointedly pretended he didn’t pick up on what Yuri was doing and started talking loudly about how Yuri reminded him of a hypothetical younger brother. It was frustrating. Yuri still didn’t know why Balthus had helped him. There was probably a secret motive that Yuri just hadn’t picked up on yet. Or maybe Balthus actually -

Yuri stopped short. This page was about Balthus. About the von Adalbrechts, and some sort of mysterious crest in their family legend. Right alongside a personality profile on Balthus…notes on his attendance and conduct issues…character notes…records of meetings and conversations with Balthus…lists of broken school rules…apparently psychologically unstable…

Yuri flipped a page backwards. It was on him. He caught a few paragraphs on his history before he quickly flipped forward. He didn’t want to know what Aelfric thought of his personality. Probably just called him a slut for two straight pages. Definitely marked him down as psychologically unstable.

But there were people besides Yuri and Balthus in the notebook. Right after Balthus’ incomplete profile, there was another name and short descriptor. Constance von Nuvelle. Another rich bitch noblewoman. Current student of the Fhirdiad School of Sorcery…extremely high grades for her first few years at the school before they plummeted half a year ago. Now at risk of dropping out. Extensive record of conduct issues, same as Balthus. Aelfric made note of…severe psychological instability, whatever that meant. And a certain crest…

Yuri flipped through Constance’s profile until he found another. Hapi, no last name - a commoner. Extensive hypothesizing on the power of her crest and little information about her. Current resident of a church in the middle of nowhere. Psychologically unstable.

“This explains why Aelfric was having those private meetings with Balthus,” Yuri muttered. “I guess we both have powerful crests. These two women must also have powerful crests…but why keep tabs on them specifically? Why keep tabs on all of us?”

“Aelfric talked about blood a lot,” Byleth said seriously. Yuri really shouldn’t have left him alone with her. 

“I should contact Lady Rhea about this,” Yuri said. He continued flipping through the book - going through Yuri Leclarc, Balthus von Adalbrecht, Constance von Nuvelle, and Hapi’s profiles again and again. Four strangers placed right next to each other, thrown together by fate. “She’ll definitely be interested in learning about Constance and Hapi.” 

Byleth peered over his arm, trying to take a glance at the book. Yuri let her. She could barely read. Maybe secrets would incentivize her to keep learning. “Are they important?”

“Probably not,” Yuri said. 

But even then, he had lied. Even then, he had already known. 

Call it intuition. 

[lovejosephquinn]

Authors Note: This took me 5 hours so I hope you enjoy, I'm really hoping you all enjoy it since I've hyped it up no end lmao 💀🥰

Summary: After a bad break up, your best friend Joe is there to pick up the pieces, the best friend you could ever have hoped for. Except falling for him wasn't ever planned but it's impossible not to when he makes it feel so damn easy

Warnings: reference to cheating, mild violence and angst, fluff and smut. All the categories mixed into one, under 18's DNI. Friends to lovers trope

Word Count: 4.8k

Taglist: @eddiemunson-mylove @choke-me-eddie @quinnypixie @capricornrisingsstuff @ali-r3n @aol19 @aysheashea @wonderheartz @shawnamae87

Something in the back of your mind knew it was a bad idea taking back your ex boyfriend, you'd contemplated the idea of not doing it but you listened to your head more than your heart and instead of standing up for yourself, you'd played into his hands and found yourself heartbroken yet again. You just never seem to learn and clearly this was your own problem to deal with, he'd cheated on you the first time and as the saying goes; once a cheat always a fucking cheat.

You fell to the floor the moment you received the direct message from the random girl who'd sent you a video, him and her together, doing the dirty. She'd found out from a mutual friend of a friend that he was already in a relationship and decided to come clean to you. Not that it made the situation any better, but at least she understood the girl code of sisters before misters.

You sobbed, hugging your knees, your mind all over the place, intrusive thoughts, valid feelings that you were sure to be having; yet there in one respect was nobody to blame but yourself. He'd given you a form of anxiety since the first time he'd done this to you, but it's hard to get out of feeling for someone once you're deep in it, your walls come crashing down once you've entrusted the person you're supposed to be with and then they break you as easily as they fixed you in the beginning.

The whole time you weren't sure whether you wanted to be alone but at the same time you didn't know if you needed the company to help you escape these disgustingly real thoughts which alluded your brain. You had a comfort blanket, your best friend. You didn't want to bother him and once you'd told him you knew he was likely to kick off at you and say the dreaded words of I told you so. It was irritating to know that he was that way inclined, but you knew he'd be right, you'd of probably done the same thing if it were the other way around.

You looked a mess, tears stained your soft cheeks which felt hot to the touch, you felt like you were going to throw up, your hands were shaking, you'd thrown your phone to the other side of your bedroom after receiving the message, screaming in the space of your new found loneliness. It should surely hurt less the second time but it doesn't, it feels worse. You were stupid.

You crawled over to your phone in hope that it'd sort your problems out, you knew you had to make the call, you needed your best friend by your side even if it meant him pissing you off. You looked pathetic, making those stupid whimpering sounds whilst you moved forward, settling yourself on your knees, you pressed onto your contacts, onto Joe's name and your thumb hovered over the green phone icon.

Through blurry eyes you did it and the tone began to blast through your speaker, you heard his voice immediately after which calmed you more than you could've imagined. It was like you'd lost your voice, a simple hello was not easy to respond to when you were in the midst of an almost panic attack. You could've just pretended like you'd pocket dialled him and ended the call, but you just couldn't find it in yourself to hang up on the one person you relied on when you were in such a mess.

"Y/N? Hellooooo?"

"I- I-" You stuttered out, a sharp breath following.

"Are you ok love?"

Your tears immediately resumed on queue. Calmness disintegrating.

"I'll take that as a-"

"No. No I'm not." You interrupted quickly, finishing his sentence for him.

"What the fuck did he do to you?" Joe was quick in assuming and quite right to his guess in why you weren't sounding great.

"What makes you think-"

"Don't play dumb with me darling, I recognise that tone of your voice from the last time that dick hurt you. I swore to you last time I'd let it go, but you made a mistake in going back to him, you forgave him and I know that cry when I hear it."

You absolutely detested how he knew you so well, for the good and for the bad.

"Hit the nail on the head there Joey." You sniffled your nose followed by another hitch of your throat, you dragged yourself over to the wall, backing yourself onto it, reinstituting your previous position, knees back up to your chest.

"I knew it. Do I need to go and commit a crime?" You closed your eyes and shook your head, for all you knew Joe was being serious and would get himself into trouble just for you, he was just that involved in your friendship, cared for you like nobody ever had.

"No. Please don't." You could've sounded like you were begging for him to not, but at the same time you'd of done anything to watch Joe punch his lights out for what he'd done to you.

"And are you going to stop me?"

"Look, I just need you here with me. Are you going to get off of your high horse and do your best friend duties?"

"Are you going to take him back again?"

"No." You sighed.

"No offence, but I'll believe it when I see it." You could've heard a pin drop, way to break your heart even further Joe.

"Please just come over and give me one of those special hugs, I could really do with that shit right now, not with your sarcastic tone of voice that I know and hate."

Joe hummed a snigger, you knew he was trying to joke around with you, but you were having none of it.

"I'm on my way, stay put." Joe ended the call, not like you were going anywhere in this state, but you could only handle being alone for so much longer before you broke down into a state where in the present you weren't sure you could come back from. The best part is that you were just presupposing that Joe was as free as a bird for you, but regardless to your own knowledge; this man would end whatever he was doing at the drop of a hat to be next to you.

You felt like you'd waited a lifetime for the knock at your door and when it came you found some energy to get up off your ass and answer it, the person you'd least expected to be there stood before you.

"Well you look a state." You've got to be fucking joking.

"Get the fuck away from me, I never want to see you again." You bellowed loudly, not even feeling an ounce of quiet in you, the anger seeping out quite abruptly.

"What're you on about?" Oh so he wanted to play dumb.

"Once a cheat always a cheat, get out of my life, I gave you one more chance and you blew it."

"Have you any proof?" He chuckled and you could've swung for him there and then.

You clutched your phone, bringing it up to unlock it with your face ID, pushing the video brightly showing on the screen, the noises that made you want to barf were shattering. His eyes grew wide. Your now ex boyfriend took your phone from your grasp and launched it across the room where it hit the nearby wall, a smash of glass was apparent in it's fall to the ground.

"No proof then." What a malicious bastard.

"How dare you." You ball your fist, bringing it up to and smashing straight into his cheek, violence is never the answer as your mum has taught you through life, but god knows he deserved it.

"Touch me again bitch I fucking dare you." Before you could even step back, his hand was wrapped around your throat, pulling you up onto your tip toes and throwing you back toward the wall your phone had landed. You saw your life flashing before your eyes, not once would you have ever imagined he'd lay a finger on you, a defence mechanism maybe for you striking him? You couldn't be making excuses because there were none for his own violent behaviour, except a pure guilty conscience.

"Get- off- me!" You stuttered as his grip intensified.

"Don't think you're ending things, you won't be going anywhere, you'll come back, you proved by doing that this time." How was he that entitled? You'd took him back based on the bullshit he'd fed you that he'd changed; where as you'd learnt he had not.

"You're- a- fucking- joke." You wheezed, an evil burst of laughter breaking out from the depths of your lungs.

"Takes one to know one." Suddenly, he was launched backwards, a thunderous screech was heard from him and he lost his grip on you and fell to the floor from the force in which he was manoeuvred back.

"Get the fuck off her if you know what's good for you mate." Your ex looked up to see Joe towering over him, a quick shoot of a look to you from your best friend he saw the sorrow in your eyes as you held onto your throat, catching the oxygen that you'd solely missed for a couple of minutes.

"Oh look, your best friend who clearly fancies you to the rescue, surprised you didn't fuck him whilst you were with me." Joe bent down slightly, taking a hold of his t-shirt and bringing him up to his feet back on eye level.

"You're a waste." Joe's pupils had dilated into a state of anger in which you'd never seen before, a different side to him in which you quite enjoyed, way over protective and way over his usual adorable state he carried 99.9% of the time.

"What you gonna do you pussy?" Your ex egged him on to take action upon his words and for the first time you saw Joe strike back. His knuckles caught him square in the nose, landing him straight back down on his behind. His nose seeped with blood and you cried out for them both to stop, your ex stood back up and Joe ragged him to the other side of the room, pushing him toward him and then back again.

"Come near her again, I'll fucking end you." Joe lowly whispered. A threat now made a promise. He wasn't joking.

Your ex stumbled out of the front door and Joe hung his head around to watch him leave until he was out of sight of the hallway of your flat complex. Joe slammed the door shut, bolting the door locked and rushed over to you in a hurry. Grabbing a hold of you instantly, pushing your head onto his chest, one hand soothed your back whilst the other held onto the back of your head.

"It's really over Joe." You couldn't help the overly loud, obnoxious tears that consumed your entire being. You were shaking and so was he, both from different states of anger, stress and upset.

"I know darling, I know." He didn't want to say it, he didn't want to give you the whole talk, that could wait until you'd stopped crying at least. Joe held you in pure silence for a good 10 minutes, stood in the same position, the scent of him engulphed your nose as you wept and wet through his jumper that he wore. Homely. Beautiful. Dreamy.

"Everything will be okay, you know that right? It might not seem that way now, but maybe this needed to happen for you to realise that you can do so much better, you deserve everything above what that prick has done to you." You managed a brief smile and you could realise that he felt it from the way you felt his heart thump in his chest and in turn, his reaction reflected upon yours, your stomach feeling nauseous but in turn relieved from the butterflies which flew through your stomach. Not the first time you've felt that around him, but you never acted on it, shrugging it off; this time felt different.

"You hear me? Tell me you know it'll be alright and that you won't do anything stupid."

"I hear you."

"Tell me." Joe put his hands to your arms, bringing you back to look at you full on, his natural chocolatey gaze which warmed right through you came back to light and you couldn't deny him of his need of response.

"It'll be alright..." You paused.

Joe tried to offer you a sympathetic smile, the type you give to someone in need.

"As long as you're around." You whispered.

"Always." Joe pulled you back in for another sweet hug, not lasting as long this time, he took your hand and brought you over to a more comfier place, also known as your sofa.

You sat across from him but was immediately invited back into his arms, it was a welcoming view and you couldn't actually wait to be back in them. At this point, he wasn't your best friend, he was your hero. You'd shared a moment more intimate in the least intimate of ways and it just felt unlike any other time you'd shared an embrace.

You settled down with your head on his lap, his fingertips played with your hair, brushing through them with no tangles in sight. You were in a calmer state, less tears and less heavy breaths, the air refilling your lungs perfectly. You found your eyes heavy from the amount of anxiety you'd undertaken in the last hour, a lot for the heart to handle.

You opened your eyes in a slightly confused daze, you rolled over to see Joe take his eyes from his phone which he was just aimlessly scrolling through, his smile so much brighter than the last you'd seen it. "Hello sleeping beauty." You rubbed your hands over your face, slightly embarrassed that you'd fallen asleep under the circumstances you had.

"I'm so sorry I dozed off."

"Don't apologise, you looked cute, so was the little snores." You lifted your hand up to tap his face making him laugh out, there's the Joe you knew and loved. Loved.

"Shut up I do not snore."

"I beg to differ." Joe laughed again and it made you giggle in turn.

"Slight change of subject, but I heard a song I've not heard for years whilst you were asleep and it made me think of you. Especially relevant to times like this." Not that he had to bring up the situation of today, but it was necessary to his point.

"Oh yeah what's that?" You saw his cheeks flush and you were not sure if it was rapid regret or that he'd just made it up to bring up a different conversation; but then why would he talk about the whole ordeal?

"Don't cringe at me for this." You chortled his way, his cheeks now a crimson red, he was biting down on his bottom lip and you quickly shut up to show an ounce of respect for what he clearly wanted to show to you.

"Cross my heart and hope to-" You were cut off when he leaned up to stand in front of you, your head thumped down onto the sofa in the warm spot where he'd been pressed to it.

"Don't finish that sentence, up you get." He offered out his hand and you gladly took it, a bemused look upon your features.

He pressed play on his Spotify and threw the phone down onto the sofa, you were suddenly in a state of pure bliss when you heard the notes begin.

If you ever find yourself stuck in the middle of the sea I'll sail the world to find you If you ever find yourself lost in the dark and you can't see I'll be the light to guide you Joe pulled you into him once more, but began swaying from side to side, you were astonished that this side was coming out of him, a private moment you were sharing together, closer than you'd ever felt before with your best friend. Emotions screaming loud and clear. As per, you'd really never acted on them, but there was clearly some hidden feeling toward him that you didn't want to bring to light and make exist, but with this meaningful song playing in the background, it was out of the question for you to not go down that road.

You thought your ears had deceived you when you heard Joe's voice whispering into your hair, slowly moving down towards your ear when the chorus began.

You can count on me like one, two, three I'll be there And I know when I need it, I can count on you like four, three, two And you'll be there...

You'd never believed the words of a song like you did now Joe was singing them at you. You felt alive, electricity was greedily taking over the entirety of your body. You hummed along to the sound of the music, Joe's hands wrapped further around your back, still swaying he continued to voice the lyrics right at you.

You'll always have my shoulder when you cry I'll never let go, never say goodbye You know

As the final chorus blossomed through your ear drums and the song died down, you felt yourself welling up again, though this time you were beaming, you pulled back to take a look at an even more blushed look on Joe's face.

"I hope-"

"That was beautiful, Joe."

"Don't ever let anyone think you're worth any less than that ever again. I for one won't let a soul do so." Joe cooed at you in a mild whisper.

"You're truly amazing." You fluttered your eyelashes down to the ground and you felt the touch of his thumb lifting your chin to look back at him again.

"Is this the part where I confess?" Joe sighed.

"Confess?" Your eyebrows furrowed.

"The song meant more to me than you know and I want you to be able to count on me today and every day after that." You were suddenly sinking into a hole that you didn't want to get out of, you knew exactly what he meant but you wanted to hear it for yourself.

"Nobody will never hurt you again." Joe paused, his hand coming up to your cheek which you innocently tilted to lean on.

"As long-"

"As long as I'm around." Joe smiled, his face grew ever closer. It was more a need than a want now and despite everything that had happened today, reality was coming to light and though you should of probably stopped it there, you didn't.

Your lips collided together in a soft, warm and with meaning kiss. It was like in the movies, when two friends found themselves in this situation, usually fireworks would set off behind them and it'd be a happy ever after type scenario, but this was real life and you knew there'd be hurdles, but you'd cross that bridge when you came to it. No matter how hard your brain told you to stop, your heart begged you not to, you were right in doing so; you listened to your head last time and look where that got you.

Your lips stuck together like glue, becoming more open mouthed now, no tongues but complete passion, something that should not feel so good with what felt almost disallowed, you were tasting forbidden fruit. After what felt like hours, you both let go, panting for breath, staring directly into each others souls, a sweet split second turned heated.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't help myself."

"Do not apologise, I- I liked it." You bit down on your lip and he took full note of your body language, eyes flitting between your own and back down to your mouth again.

"That's hot." He bit down on his own lip.

"Ditto." You smirked, matching the wickedly framed smug look staring right back at you.

"For me, it's always been you." Joe's confession. There it was. Handed to you on a plate.

"Maybe I never knew truly, but I do now. Ditto." You mimicked his own version of ditto. The minute the word left your mouth he picked you up, throwing a squeak out of you from not expecting his sudden move, but excited nonetheless.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, arms wrapped around his neck as his mouth attacked to yours once more, more fiercely this time, the fireworks well and truly working their magic. You found yourself against a wall for the third time today but this time it was in good stead, you were making out with your best friend, something you never thought would happen in your wildest dreams. You suddenly could feel his erection pressed against your crotch, slightly rubbing against you which made you shudder under his touch.

"Too much?" Joe spoke through your kiss.

"Too little." You replied.

Joe carried you back to the sofa, slipping you down and climbing on top of you before returning his lips to their rightful place. Tongues fought together wildly this time, noses crushed against each other, teeth clattering, slight groans erupting from each of you as he grinded down back into the same spot he was just pressed into.

He moved down to your neck, sloppily leaving a trail of his own saliva down it which blew heat down to your core, an ache which made you thrust in time to Joe's hip movement, his own little moan giving out.

You tugged at his shirt, dying for the moment you'd start to undress.

"Too much?" You hummed a giggle.

Joe leaned up, removing his shirt and tossed it to the floor beside him.

"Too little." He wiggled his eyebrows forcing another laugh out of you. This time he made his way down, peeling down your trousers in turn.

"Can I? I'm dying to taste more of you." You shoot him a mhmm as a way of silently pleading for him to get on with it.

You shimmy off the bottom half of your clothing as Joe slips himself off the sofa to position himself better, he pulls your underwear to the side, his eyes almost bulging out of his skull.

"What a beautiful pussy you have, holy shit." Joe slides a finger in a straight line between your slit, eyes fully trained on you when he puts it into his mouth and shares a sound of pure delight.

"Fuck yes..." He widens your legs and pushes his face between your folds, instantly sucking at your clit, giving you no room to adjust, eating you out like a ravenous animal, tongue swirling around, curing the aches in which you craved to be touched. Effortlessly, he inserts a finger straight through your entrance, curling it up to feel your walls, the thickness of them makes your back arch, especially as his mouths fully latched onto you with brute force, licking every part of your slick that he can manage.

"J-Joe oooh my- god. Yes." Your hands fall onto his curls, pulling at them, urging him by pressing him down so you could feel more, you wanted more, you needed more.

"You like that, baby. Do I make you feel good?"

"Fuck, more." You can barely speak.

He pushed another finger in, joining the other to stretch you out, your walls hugged his digits as you clenched firmly, writhing your hips back and fourth, riding his fingers as well as you could manage. You could feel the inevitable waiting to happen and just before it did, he made a swap, pulling his fingers out which immediately began rubbing erratically against your clit and his tongue pressed inside your entrance.

You moaned his name countless times, pain not a problem when you were almost yanking at his hair a top his head. The little sounds he made as he darted his tongue in and out of you threw you over the edge, your soul leaving your body and joining the angels in heaven, a slight black out on your part.

Joe watched on as you squirmed about the sofa whilst your orgasm took over you. "Fuckkk, atta girl. That's what I like to see." Once you'd come back down to reality, Joe had already rid of his own trousers, you witnessed his cock for the first time and my god did you like and extremely enjoy what you saw.

"Do you want me to-"

"Joe, just fuck me already." He'd well and truly got you in the mood.

"Yes ma'am." He choked a chuckle, putting a hand up to his head to salute like a soldier.

You went back to biting down on your lip when you saw him spit down onto his shaft, quickly fisting it and tipping his head back.

"God damn it Y/N. I'll bite that lip for you if you carry on."

You resumed in biting down on it once more and you moved into laying back across the sofa, he climbed back on top of you, holding himself up with his hands and leaning down to take your lip between his teeth before tugging it back.

"Don't test me woman." You both sniggered.

"Fuck. Me." You said sternly. He slowly pushed himself inside of you, making you both let out a breathless moan, as tight as you felt to him was how big he was feeling to you, a perfect match. As Joe adjusted himself, he grabbed a hold of your legs and hoisted them over his shoulders for deeper contact, he began to move at a slow pace. You could feel every inch thrusting through you, it was already the best sex you'd ever had, purely because the meaning behind it was something words could never describe.

You made a sound which made some halt to a stop, a worried look on his face.

"Too much?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Too fucking little." You licked your lips.

That was it. He pounded into you, he understood the assignment, you liked it rough, he knew you wanted to be fucked senseless, to forget everything that had happened today and the only way that was now going to happen was if he railed you to the extent you required.

His balls slapped against your ass, your walls clenching around him once more as he hit a spot which had you crying out a noise so loud, it was borderline pornographic.

"Fuck yes, take my cock!" He went harder, rutting his hips as fast he could, you could feel the tip tapping onto your cervix, pushing an orgasm straight out of you, the best part of it all; Joe felt the moment you did. He felt like the slick drip out of you and onto his balls, some even reaching the sofa.

"Where do you want me to- y'know." He panted.

"Anywhere, just cum for me." You whined, as desperate for his release as he clearly was, he wouldn't of mentioned it so quickly if he wasn't already nearing his limit.

Joe pulled out not a moment later, grabbing a hold of your hand and pulling you off the sofa and onto your knees, you acknowledged what he wanted. Opening your mouth, Joe wrapped his fist around his cock and began pumping toward you. Breath fiery and heaving out the air he had left in his lungs, he exploded when you took him into your mouth, his tip enclosed inside of it, gushing out heaps of his warm seed, you swallowed every last drop he had to offer.

You'd of thought after an encounter like this, it could've been the most awkward moment to share between you, but it was far from that. Joe pulled you back onto your feet and you held his hand as you took him into your bedroom.

"Didn't quite make it here huh?" Ugh Joe and his charming whit.

You fell onto the bed, not even worrying about the mess you'd made back in the living room. Joe crawled up next to you, pulling you into his arms, the best embrace you'd ever felt, skin to skin, bare and satisfied.

"Did I mention?" Joe asked.

"I don't know, did you?" You replied in an almost sarcastic tone.

"That I-" Joe pressed his mouth to your hair, your head laying on his chest hearing the beautiful beat of his heart in your ear, which was thrashing.

"I love you." Joe whispered, enough for you to make it out and enough for your own cheeks to flush this time.

"I- I love you too."

There it was. The true confession. The best friend who had been before you all this time felt like he could've been the one biding his time, waiting for you, to give you everything he possibly could. He could be the one who saved you, god knows he already had.

[petermorwood]

Hello! I was watching this Adam Savage video on youtube and it's about antique swords at the MET, so naturally I thought of you. It's a rather recent one titled "Adam Savage Meets Real Ancient Swords!" on Adam Savage's Tested channel. If you haven't seen it yet, I highly recommend it, because it was so interesting. Sadly, I can't add a link, but it should be easy to find with the title. Hope you're having a great day!

I've actually already seen this, but many thanks for thinking of me; that\s how I get to see / hear / read stuff I'd otherwise miss!

it's a great video, and I immediately showed it to @dduane because Adam reacted in the same way I would have done - even to the sword he liked best, which of course indicates his excellent taste in weapons...

:-D

Here's the link:

Conservator Sean Belair mentions (at 6:17) "...another identical one floating around..." This photo shows several; Darksword Armoury, Albion Swords and Ronin Katana repros, and two museum originals.

The one Sean refers to, given his use of "identical", is probably the "Harriet Dean" sword which reappeared a few years ago.

These "Dean" swords were a pair acquired by Dr Bashford Dean, the Met's first curator of arms and armour, one of which he donated to the museum. The second was held by his sister Harriet and, on her death, was auctioned off and vanished (probably into a private collection) for three-quarters of a century before turning up at Christies in 2015.

Its value was estimated at £70-100,000 and it went for £386,500 (!) - but where it went, to a museum collection or back into private hands, I have no idea...

[zanarkandfayth]

Would love to read your answers to questions 3, 9, 13, 17, 18, 26, 29, 31, 32, 50, and, if there's another number (or several) you really wanna answer, please add those too ✨

thank you for the ask!! <33 I wrote you novels in return gjdskglj

3. In your opinion, what’s your best fic?

oooh this one is so hard because I love most of my fics for different reasons, even my older ones (at least the ones on ao3. we ignore the ones left behind on ffnet lmao). hhhh, of completed ones that are posted, imma have to say monsters honestly, because damn did I put some heart into that. but the one I'd probably consider absolute best is the still ongoing, not yet posted 600K+ beast of a fic I usually refer to as "nanofic" that I've been working on since 2019. it won't be everyone's cup of tea, but it just gets so deep into noct's trauma that I inflict on him and his slow recovery from it, more than I've done for any other fic, and I've poured so much blood sweat and tears into that thing, it's kinda everything to me.

9. Have you ever written for a fandom without watching/reading/playing the source material?

written, no. been tempted to in the past, but it was too much effort and I already had too many fics for my main fandoms. I have read fandom blind for both harry potter and supernatural in the past though, like lates 2000s into mid 2010s. both were kinda on accident. supernatural in particular is because it kept getting crossed over with MULTIPLE of my fandoms. psych, house md, and criminal minds. so I started reading non-crossover supernatural fics in self-defense gsdklgjdks

13. What’s the biggest change between your style when you started in fandom and today?

I mean… this is the first paragraph of one of my fics from my first fandom when I was fifteen. you tell me 😂

"Relena smiled as she sipped her tea and mentally reviewed the day's schedule. 8:00 am- peace talk to the world. 10:00 am- conference with Romefeller. 1:00 pm- try to convince Dorothy to become a pacifist because she was to stupid to understand that Dorothy loved war. Rest of the day- annoy the HELL out of Heero Yuy. Smiling happily again (PLEASE! Her smile is SO annoying), she stood up and was just about to take a step when …. suddenly a freak falling cow killed her!!! =^.^= The gundam boys all burst out of closets around the room and rejoiced."

the biggest change is probably that I actually write well now lmao. and don't character bash. and don't throw author's notes and emoticons in the middle of fics, and have learned to format better, and, and…

17. In your opinion, what’s your most overrated fic?

oh god. let me hide before I answer this. hands down, it's shadows growing. like let me be clear, it's not bad by any means. I'm still fond of it. but I did not have a clear plan when I started writing it, and I really feel like that shows. it was not meant to be a fix-it fic. it was not meant to be a longer fic. it was not meant to be much of anything, tbh. I saw the prompt on the kink meme and the prologue literally started writing itself in my head and I was like "nah idk what I'd do with that" and I scrolled past, but I couldn't focus on reading other prompts and so I went back and just started typing the fic in a reply to the prompt. honestly I figured I'd write whatever I could and then when I left it unfinished, no one would know because I was anon and I had like one fic posted on ao3 for ffxv at the time and I was used to being a complete fandom nobody. the fact that shadows growing got me even somewhat noticed was unexpected and I was not prepared gdjskgjdskl

it definitely affected the fic because once the readers started picking up it made me feel suuuuper stressed and I was so afraid to stray too far from canon because I thought people would hate that??? for some reason??? no there's logic there. I was just overwhelmed. and I do get why people love it, because the whump and the friendship between the boys is really good. but I cannot help but look at it and remember how out of my depth I felt at the time and wish that I had been brave enough to diverge more from canon and smart enough to come up with a better ending. I still suspect there were quite a few people who felt let down by the ending and that's fair honestly. anyways, yeah, it's a good fic and I'm fond of it and most of the attention and the recs it got were in the first couple years of the game being out and I don't begrudge it being my most popular fic, I just. have better ones now I feel like gjsdgjskgsj but maybe not ones as many people would want to read. which is fine with me tbh.

18. What’s your most underrated fic?

the gladio oneshot in my "fayth's daddy issues week" series! (I wrote all those fics so back to back that I can't remember the titles for any of them whoops.) I adore that fic and it got so little attention compared to most of the other fics in that week, or my fics overall tbh. the only one that got even less was the one about iris 🤣 but I don't care much for the iris one either, even though I think it has some stellar banter between the boys and cute/funny prompto/gladio moments. I really love the gladio one though, because it was fun to revisit gladio's pov in a fic and I got to develop a bit of backstory for him that's been evolving into headcanon and there's a good chunk of ignis and gladio friendship that was the precursor to all their friendship in monsters, plus I got to make gladio cry, so. I love it <3

26. What aspect of your writing do you most enjoy to see praised?

characterisation, for sure. it's the one thing I agonise over and actually worry about what readers might think at times, especially as I get further away from having played the game to keep it fresh in my mind. so anyone commenting that it feels right makes me roll around on my bed in glee. the other aspect I equally enjoy is people commenting on the emotions. like, that the ones I wrote the characters having feel real/deep, that it made the reader feel them too, etc. stuff like that. cos the emotions are literally why I write fic lol.

29. Does the division of your writing across fandoms line up with your reading? What’s the biggest discrepancy?

I am dumb and am struggling to understand what this question is asking, tbh. is it like, do I write for as many fandoms as I read, or something? because fuck no in that case, haha. the only fandoms I've done major writing for (more than one or two fics) are gundam wing, digimon adventure, final fantasy x, and final fantasy xv. and I've read for something like 100 fandoms, idk. at one point I had a list but I stopped keeping track eventually.

31. Who’s the one character you’ve just never managed to get perfectly right?

well… I didn't really understand the concept of characterisation for fanfic until a little before I started writing for ffx. so uh, it's kinda non-existent in my gdw and digimon fics. but once I actively started trying for it… honestly maybe just yuna from final fantsy x. I had some things featuring her meant to be longer fics that were set during the game (most of my posted stuff is set pre-canon, with no yuna in sight) but I never finished and/or posted them because I always felt shaky on yuna's characterisation. I don't think I've majorly struggled with anyone in ffxv to the point that I've felt too dissatisfied with characterisation to post. but at the same time I'm sure none of them are actually perfectly right xD but they FEEL more or less right to me, which is all I care about.

32. Who’s the one character who shines without you even trying?

noct. I mean. he's my blorbo for a reason xD my beloved, I relate to him so much and the rest of it I just project lololol. I make a point to not actually just write myself as noct, cos I personally ain't about that, but it feels very easy to write him without needing to think too deeply about his thoughts/feelings/reactions most of the time. they feel instinctual to me, even when it's something that would differ from my own thoughts/feelings/reactions if I was in a similar situation.

50. Has writing fanfic had a significant impact on your life? Would you say it’s entirely positive?

YES and the answer to this question is one of the reasons antis/purity culture upsets me so fucking much. it's a personal/sensitive answer though so skip if you don't want to read that xD but. reading rape/sexual abuse & aftermath fics as a teenager is what helped me to understand that, even though there was no outright rape happening, I was still being abused. seeing my favourite characters have the courage to tell someone about their abuse and get help is what encouraged me to tell one of my friends during an AIM conversation late one night when I was sixteen, and she convinced me to tell my therapist at my next appointment, who then told my mom, and yeah let's just say that was a very significant and eventually positive impact (it was a rocky road) on my life. if none of that had happened I genuinely think the CSA would have continued escalating into eventual rape. so thank FUCK for fanfic and I seethe with rage every time some shitfuck anti tries to claim there's no good to be found in such fics. plus in general it just helps with my mental health and I've made plenty of friends through fic over the years, even if they come and go I'm still grateful to have known them for that time, and writing fic is the one thing that gives life any meaning for me, etc. so yeah I'd say at least 99% positive.

and now, I will add a few to answer, because you said I could lmao

7. What’s the fic you most want to continue (unfinished or no)?

it is a toss-up between horizon road, an ffx fic featuring a toxic, fucked up relationship between tidus and auron that I still really love, or endless skies, a really self-indulgent digimon fic. they're both old at this point, horizon road I started in 2005, and endless skies was in 2016. horizon road suffers from me having no solid ideas for it beyond the three chapters I wrote, and endless skies is painfully fully outlined, but it was such a hard, research-intensive fic to write for a number of reasons, and now looking at it also just reminds me of an ex-friend who I feel very negative towards (because I talked to them a lot while plotting/writing and they even wrote some of the smut scenes for me, though I've since removed those) and even if I wasn't still deeply entrenched in ffxv, I don't think I could bring myself to ever work on it again :/ which sucks because I did adore it very much.

35. Have you ever written a ship into a fic without meaning to?

…okay, I think anyone who has read shadows growing and then has also read or even looked at my ignoct fics knows that the ignoct is very much present in shadows growing gjdskgjsk as much as I will swear up and down it's platonic, and people certainly can take it that way if they want, like. come on. it's there. at a point, it very much was intentional. BUT. it did start out accidental. the og prompt asked for either gen or OT4 and I don't ship OT4 so I was gonna do gen but noct and ignis kept blurring the lines when I started writing scenes with them gdsjkgdjkl aaaaand actually I didn't start monsters with the intention of it being ignoct either. (the ignoct bits in the first chapter I actually added in a rewrite of that chapter lmao.) nor the tiny little epilogue in heavy is the burden that nudges into hinting at ignoct territory. fuck, even the ignoct in my very first ffxv wasn't meant to be so overt as it was gjdsklgjks there's also tiny hints of it in some of my fayth's daddy issues week fics (not counting the one that's deliberately and stated to be ignoct).

…actually now that I'm writing this I'm realising very little of my ignoct has been deliberately planned at the start 😂 the sequel to shadows growing, grey skies, was planned, at least xD the promptio that shows up towards the end of the fic was an accident though gjsdkgljslk it just. happened??? I didn't even LIKE promptio when I started writing that fic. huh. maybe accidental shipping is just my thing in writing ffxv fics.

40. Do you feel like you put out enough content?

wanted to answer this one, because, I'm NOT talking in terms of other people here. I don't mean to sound dismissive or ungrateful, because I do appreciate the people who read my fics, it makes me happy, but like. it's not why I write OR post. I'm not "producing content" for people; if someone is unhappy with me for not posting more fics, that's their problem. but in terms of myself… yeah, I do wish I had more to post. not because I feel like I've got some kind of arbitrary quota to meet. like, quite frankly, I have over a million words of fic posted on ao3, and given that I have a single unposted fic that's over 600K alone, I'm positive I have at least 2mil total words written. it's just that I wish I could write more consistently/frequently? I feel like I never write as much as I want to, and I know a lot of it is because of my worsening health, so maybe that's why I just feel so frustrated and dissatisfied with my output, but man, sometimes I look at my number of posted works on ao3 and feel like it's such a low number for how long I've been writing ): both for ffxv specifically and for all my fics total. I know it's silly, but the feeling persists nonetheless.

thank you again for the ask!! I feel happy getting to answer questions and ramble about my fics :D and it was really fun to think about my answers and realise a thing or two haha.

[ineffablydelighted]

[How exploring the Ineffable Husbands' dynamic in Good Omens can help us figure out what the show/book is all about, Part 1/?]

Also called: This human has, apparently, too much time on her hands and will be trying to Effable the Ineffable for [...] hours.

Ah, Hello! 👋

I'm ineffably delighted to meet you all! 😇

Let's cut to the chase and bear with me as we try together to analyze further the subject of the day:

Aziraphale is in love with Crowley and I am pretty sure he is aware of that fact BUT 

[yes, there is a "but", do not erase me from the Book of Life just yet, let me explain first, homie 🥺] 

I do not believe he can comprehend WHY he is just yet, and what that would mean for him in terms of... well... EVERYTHING he ever stood for.

It will also be the perfect roots to answer the biggest question yet :

What is Good Omens all about, exactly?

[Yeah, it's a tough one. When I say "bear with me", I really insist on the fact that it will be LONG. I will try my best to make it fun to read and to allow some "natural breaks" but know that I would appreciate your unshared attention if you're willing to give it to me. 😇]

Although, would you have the chance to ask him about it (probably looking at a cup of tea as we would all do in Earthy fashion), Aziraphale would have somewhat of an answer to give you, probably in the range of:

"Because, deep down, Crowley is the nicest being I've ever known."

Is it false? No, Crowley IS nice. Swaggeringly nice, occasionally unhinged, but still. Nice.

And that is somewhat the core of the... "problem" for our soon-to-be Supreme Archangel [Yep, the pain is still fresh, thanks for asking, you're welcome for reminding you 😭👍] because, as much as Crowley learned nuances due to past experiences (Falling being, most likely, the most traumatic one,) Aziraphale remains bound to think in absolutes. And everything relates to THIS perfect meme right there:

[Whoever you are, person/entity who has done that, you have forever my utmost gratitude and respect]

I'm far from bringing anything new to the table here, but to Aziraphale, Crowley should NOT have fallen in the first place. Because of how nice he is. Crowley IS an angel, to him. In fact, I'll go even further by stating that, to Aziraphale,

Crowley is more of an Angel than ANY Angel in the "Main Office."

Let's present our other contestants, shall we?

When he ruled, Gabriel was an absolute a** and had an ego the size of, idk, at least A DOZEN GALAXIES. He made Aziraphale feel like... well... poop most of the time they interacted.

That is why, in S2 when Gabriel/Jim tells him "I love you", Aziraphale, even being and considering himself a "creature of love", happens to be utterly unable to either reciprocate or take the compliment. At this moment, later enhanced when he reminds himself of the Job case, he realizes he is able to feel, if not hatred, NOT love NOR admiration for somebody he should somewhat consider a role model.

That is very important for Aziraphale's present and future character development, especially considering Gabriel/Jim's own fate, so please keep that in mind.

Michael? Oh God, Same if not worse: too condescending and ambitious in the wrong way to inspire anything nice to anybody.

Sandalphon just does what they are told but can totally throw a punch if necessary.

Uriel is mostly cold, occasionally cruel, and can also be physically threatening.

[I love the actress, though. Gloria Obianyo deserves a Ph.D. in Resting Bitch Facing for her performance in Good Omens alone and I'm here for it.]

S2 Saraqael seems to be more layered but has also been hurtful to Aziraphale (especially when she ironized that he couldn't possibly be the 25-Lazarii-magnitude-miracle caster).

Overall, S1 Aziraphale refers to the "Main Office" Angels as "BAD ANGELS!" after their hostile encounter. We could see from his face he would have wanted to use harsher words but couldn't get past his forgiving, decent nature.

Before we talk any furfur-ther [Am I proud of this so-called pun? A-BSOLUTELEH 😎🤭], let's add a really important stone/layer to our favorite Angel's thinking: to him, it is simple maths:

GOOD = RIGHT, BAD = WRONG

And let's save it for later, shall we?

[Killgrave dear is just here to remind you you can take a break anytime to drink a glass of Talisker if you'd like, or, more so, if HE'd like. Also because that character is THE best David Tennant role on television - 10th Doctor being the worthy third, I let you guess which character is our second now - and I might have wanted to use this gif just to be able to say that, who knows? *whispers* Mysssteryyyy...]

Anyway.

To a being like Aziraphale, who mostly thinks in dichotomy, being an Angel requires one main requirement: being GOOD.

[Buy a farrrrrm and be good! Not just "pretendy" good but. properly. GOOD! - NO, I couldn't find the gif and YES, I'm mad about it, but since I'm also unable to make one myself, I'll just shut it.]

That is why he refers to the Main Office Archangels as simply being BAD.

At that moment, they had been mean to him, threatening, and, by doing so, they became somewhat active in Hell's Armageddon project. Making them "bad" angels, but, more so:

Bad at BEING Angels.

Aziraphale, on the other hand, is, at heart, the penultimate goody-two-shoes: he does feel bad about himself whenever he does something bad/wrong such as lying (it has started to change, and I'll nuance that statement another time, but you get the grip).

He is constantly scared he might fall whenever he somewhat defies God's will or the idea he built in his head of what an Angel should be(have).

But have you paid attention to how his "Angelmates" NEVER seem to CARE about their own displays of, let's say "unconventional characteristics" for what should be the highest "Representatives of the sole concept of Good"?

Have you ever seen Gabriel or Michael being self-conscious about their narcissism and condescending tendencies? Uriel about their coldness? Saraqael about their sarcastic nature? Any of them about their use of violence? Of course not! They seem to be perfectly fine with it!

They own their characteristics, good AND bad.

Aziraphale does not.

Aziraphale is... soft. Even if he, at times, expresses regrets to be just that, he also applies it to his Angelic nature.

You know who else is soft?

Crowley.

Crowley is soft because he cannot kill children and takes it upon himself to LITERALLY DEFY BOTH GOD AND SATAN'S WILL TO SAVE SAID CHILDREN, including two annoying ones [especially the one who DARED to hit on Aziraphale but that is a topic for another day]

[MASSIVE Bildad the Shuhite fangirl here, consider yourselves warned.]

Crowley is soft because he cannot even kill GOATS.

Defying both God's and Satan's will to save kids? Yeah, eventually, okay.

Defying God's and Satan's will to save goats? Man, that's so effingly. more. powerful.

[Oh, look! A bird flying, normal thingy, nothing to see here, buh-bye!]

Crowley is soft because he proposes/"tempts" Aziraphale to "eat a spot of lunch", especially whenever his Angel experiences stress.

We have barely seen him eat, which might indicate he does not have such a strong taste for it personally. He only goes to the Ritz to enjoy Aziraphale's company and to watch him happily eat scrumptious, comforting foods.

[Okay, also because it morphed into a proper kink at some point but that is NOT today's subject, so stop trying to make me deviate from it! 😣]

Oh, and, before you bring that up, no, the alcohol motive is not relevant since he can, in all probability have a glass of Talisker in ANY sort of pub/restaurant in London.

[As a proper peated whisky lover who happens to be French, let me tell you this is NOT the case in my country and I'm super duper jealous of you, lads.]

Crowley is soft because he takes care of both Gabriel and Aziraphale's bookshop, even if it is clear he loathes the first and expressingly said he would not be a bookseller "even at gunpoint."

And, by "taking care of", know that I MEAN IT: he kept an eye on Jim, didn't wake him up when he heard him snore, answered any question he had, no matter how seemingly stupid they were [Even if Crowley, of all beings, cannot be anything but a raging "There is no stupid question, only stupid answers" representative] and offered him hot cocoa. As for the Booksho-P[uhhhhh *exhales in asthma*], he attempted to repair Jim's messy ordering twice and meticulously rearranged the place after ✨the Ball✨

[What do you mean, "he also Killgraved him into jumping out of the window?" HE ALSO STOPPED HIM FROM DOING SO, THANK YOU VERY MUCH. #NotBiasedInTheSlghtestIndividual]

Crowley is soft because he shares his Bentley with Aziraphale. Which is a VERY. BIG. DEAL. considering it was, at the time, HIS LAST ONE AND ONLY PRIZED POSSESSION.

[Should I mention that the Bentley FALLS IN LOVE with Aziraphale or is debating on whether or not that falls into the Oedipian complex territory off-topic? Yes, I'll see myself out.]

Crowley is soft because he rescues Aziraphale on countless occasions, even though, 99% of the time, that is pretty much unnecessary.

For real, guys: if Aziraphale had been discorporated in the course of his 6000+ years on Earth at any other given moment BUT on the eve of THE WAR with a capital "W", nobody in Heaven would have flinched.

[I do have a theory, though: maybe being re-incorporated takes quite a long time, which would have meant too many years apart from each other, hence the growing Damsel in Distress kink in Aziraphale, idk THAT IS NOT TODAY's SUBJECT, OKAY?!]

Also, Crowley is soft because "doing that makes him so happy".

Do you know who is supposedly "so happy" to save living things, aka GOD'S CREATIONS? Angels.

Crowley is soft because he rescues Aziraphale even when it is ACTUALLY ENDANGERING for both of them

He risked: his life, his pretty comfortable position "he carved out for himself", both his Earthy and Infernal homes sort of speak, AND EVEN HIS CAR to save his Angel's bottom/help him out in the direst situations (like stopping time to stop SATAN HIMSELF.)

[Also his past/present/future existence altogether, but the Bentley is more important, as I'm sure we'll all agree.]

[That is a Class A Protective/Helpful Husband, right there.]

Crowley is soft because he encourages Aziraphale to follow his passion for ✨prestidigitation✨

Even though he is pretty... amateurish at it. Not only does he encourage him, but he also HELPS him when he accepts to be his dashing assistant on stage.

[Yes, he does tell S1 Aziraphale to stop doing magic because he "has no idea how demeaning that is" but I'm pretty sure it was BECAUSE of S2 1941's events. Also, #WeStan1941Crowley here.]

Crowley is soft because he works pretty hard to make two humans he barely knows fall in love.

Yes, he also does it to cover his and Aziraphale's 25-Lazarii-magnitude-miracle lie BUT don't tell me his amazed expression when he thought he was about to witness Nina and Maggie actually falling for each other was not the purest, sincerest of all.

Finally, even if I could come up with more examples,

Crowley is soft because he saved Aziraphale's books JUST because he KNEW and CARED that Aziraphale CARED about said books.

That also, in Michael Sheen's very own opinion [as stated by Neil Gaiman in S1 GO DVD commentary], shared by many fans, and myself very much included, marks the moment

Aziraphale falls in love with Crowley.

[I DARE you to tell me THIS is NOT THE LOOK OF LOVE PERSONIFIED, go on, fight meh.]

So. WHY did it happen at that moment in particular? Well, because, first of all:

As a proper Jane Austen fan, Aziraphale is a slow burner.

Also, to him, an actual Angel, love is everywhere, so differentiating one love from another might be more difficult for somebody who can feel it whether or not it is even their own.

BUT [have you started getting used to my "but"s yet or should I harass you some more?] Let's go back in time to see how every previous encounter (that we know of) led to that pinnacle, shall we?

[Oh and, YES, this sort of essay will be long, and NO, I had no idea how much it would be when I started writing it, and still haven't, tbh 🤷‍♀️]

During part 2, we will also dive a little bit deeper into what Good Omens is all about.

[Yeah... I figured we would all need a break at this point.]

More on that later, then!

Hope I kept your interest at a reasonable peak. See you soon, Angels ❤

Need help to find the rest of this analysis? I've got you covered! Follow me, Angel 😇

Previous - Beginning (you're here) - Next

[curtsbigspoon]

So I already sent one in- But I had to delete my account because something went absolutely hay-wire with it, It's under the same name- But I'm not sure if it'll translate back- But I asked about Crosby anything. I'd bite at the bar of my fucking cage for it. I'm obsessed with Crosby, I'm not sure if you do write anything about him. If you don't, that's completely fine. Just ignore this if that's the case. I've just been dying for any crumbs of Crosby content-

My ask box is otherwise empty so I'm assuming it got deleted with your account. But fear not sweet creature, ask and ye shall recieve!

I did ask my pookie @johnslittlespoon a little about this one, just because as much as I do love cros and do intend on writing him and stuff, I haven't had a lot of chances yet, other than my most recent post where I spoke about him x bubbles as well as him x rosie. But i wanted to deliver still, so I can give you some more headcanons.

Feel free to ask for like more thought out stuff, or snippet things because I will attempt, I just never know what to provide unless someone is specific so forgive me 😭SPOILERS AHEAD BOYS!!!

crosby has always drank black coffee, ever since he got the taste of it, can't stick anything else. the first time bubbles offers to make him a cup he doesn't think to specify, is just grateful enough that they offered. it takes a lot for him to swallow his first sip, tries not to make it obvious, offering a smile and a nod. he's so used to taking sips whilst he's deep in his work that he inevitably winds up finishing the cup. gets up to go and make himself another, desperate for his preferred taste, only for bubbles to spawn out of nowhere offering to get him another one. he tries to politely decline but "i was gonna make myself one anyhow" and now he can't refuse or he'll look rude.

this bit's a tiny bit angsty but after bubbles dies, crosby can't drink the sweet stuff again. he tries to for the very first time after hearing, thinks it'll be something to to keep the memory. but it gets too hard, he winds up being sick, goes back to drinking black coffee because he can't stand the reminder of losing his best friend. well, up until he's deep in work and rosie comes along to see how he's doing, brings him a cup, and it's sweet and he probably drops his face into his hands and gets worked up but- (GUNSHOTS)

this one's especially based on the newest episode but, crosby's used to being seen as more timid right? will immediately stand up to admit when he's done something wrong but before it even gets to that point you can see it eating away at him. he might be able to handle a few comments here and there about himself, never quite willing to turn hostile because it's war, there's worse things happening and it's not worth getting worked up over. but the minute you say a single bad thing about his friends? oh it's over. he'll use his authority, put the fear of god into you, suddenly snap out of nowhere, no a soul can sense it's coming. he means business.

once again talked about in my last post but this man does not sleep, whether it's because of work or anxiety. he probably gets up and paces about, maybe goes to sit outside, goes somewhere, anywhere to clear his head. (angst) but he probably goes somewhere he knows he'll be alone, will talk to bubbles as if he's sitting beside him, laugh about good stuff that's happened, spill his guts about the things eating away at him, referring to fond memories they used to share.

[the-kr8tor]

HOW TO SAVE A LIFE WHERE DID I GO WRONG I LOST A FRIEND SOMEWHERE ALONG IN THE BITTERNESS- ahem...my bad Daily Hobie HC! Let's go back to highschool, and say that Hobie's also a theatre as well as band kid. Hobie is a great actor, pretty much on the same level with you. With his ability to improvise, and your ability to be convincing, you both are practically partners in crime. As well as being probably the best actors in the entire highschool, it still doesn't stop you both from making up the most bullshit things that have 'happened'. But the first time you felt your heart skip a beat- which is something Hobie will never get tired of reminding you of- was when he had actually kissed you during a performance. Obviously it was apart of the script, yet you were not prepared since during practice it was usually avoided and advised to be ignored. The non-preparation seemed to make the play all more realistic. (duh..also why did he taste like strawberry?) Ever since that performance, Hobie loved seeing how flustered you get whenever his face came close to yours in a casual manner. He found it adorable seeing your face get all scrunched up as you try to hide how that kiss affected you. One fateful day, he caught you glancing at his lips. Noticing your eyes flicker down there during rehearsal? Hobie was stuttering his lines, not able to stop thinking about what might've happened if you both weren't idiots. He notices himself almost mirroring some of your habits, such as scrunching up your nose when you got flustered or biting his lip slightly whenever focused or trying to figure something out. Every time you both had any touch outside of drama, it lingered. Warm, almost electrical. During rehearsals, the feelings were made to sit in the corner temporary (where they made out) However, at times Hobie would improvise a few movements, which was greatly praised by the teachers and usually added into the script, adding to his satisfaction of flustering you. Sometimes, the tables would turn, with you doing the exact same thing to him. You both were pretty aware of your feelings for one another, and soon the other students in the drama group were practically betting with each other on who'll confess first. Out of all the times Hobie or you had a chance to confess, he chose for the most frustrating one. During a performance. As you both usher yourselves off stage, he quickly hands you a bouquet, winking towards you and asking you if you could 'hold it for him'. As he runs back on stage for his part, you notice a letter embedded within the bouquet, with the words 'I wanna be yours. Are you mine?' scrawled on it. (Arctic Monkeys reference) He knew he was tugging harshly on strings with the little stunt, but he could only hope that you wouldn't murder him once he returned offstage. He recognizes your frown once he returns backstage, trying to counteract it with his infamous smug smirk. However, he was a little nervous underneath his 'cool' demeanor. Since your part was right after his, you return the bouquet, deciding to pull the same little stunt right back on him. However, he was surprised at what you had replied. Three boxes, one with an option of no, one with an option of yes, and the other was fuck yes. Hobie felt giddy upon seeing the fact that you had eagerly ticked the third one, his heart practically soaring. -🐦‍⬛

DAILY HOBIE HC ‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️

Okay I wasn't prepared at how adorable and sweet this was 🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰

THEATRE KIDS ARE ON A WHOLE OTHER LVL!

THE SURPRISE KISS AHHHHHHHHH!!!! All I've done in theatre was slap someone (accidentally) too hard that it made the whole room gasp 😭 (i secretly wanted that on stage kiss tbh)

THE LONGING WJNSIABSJAIJANSJA

THE CONFESSION HQS ME MELTING!!!

I'm sure after r comes back they get to finally smooch without all the eyes on them

[paytato435]

“I don’t care, I haven’t snuck out like this in weeks!” Donnie answered before turning and flipping dramatically into the shadows. He scuttled along the wall like a bug until he could peak around the next corner. Tim just casually walked along behind him.

Chapter art for Chapter 10 of Snapper and Stinkpot, THE BUG.

Timothy belongs to @/PineTreeVillain (I linked him on the actual fanfic chapter, not sure what the proper etiquette here is, lol)

Also fun fact, the reference art I used to draw Tim had him with a chain hanging from his jeans, but I literally drew Angel with a chain on hers last week so I switched it up and gave him a little keychain instead. His keyfob is the same as my car. Would Tim drive a Miata? I don't fucking know. Gave him a Septic Sam too to match the t-shirt (of himself?) he wears, hee hee.

Y’all it took 10 chapters but we are here! The plot is plotting, the art is arting, I am so happy with what I have putting out on this silly blog for the last two months, it’s been fucking crazy. I’ve never done fan art or written anything this substantial ever, it is so creatively fulfilling and I just want to thank everyone who likes and reblogs these posts because y’all have no idea how fucking excited I get when I get feedback on it. I’ve never been more happy in my life, no fucking lie. Thank you so so much, but especially to @lizardlover67 , @entspiderty , @spl00n , @theosb0rnway , @allyheart707 and @caaaaaww for being so supportive in my art journey.

Gonna blab about the art now for a moment because I want to! I cannot believe it took me this long to post art about Donatello. He is the 10/10 the best turtle, and all I have to show my love is a handful of stupid doodles from over a week ago. It's probably a crime, honestly. I need to draw him more; him and Raph, their heads just give me so much trouble idk what it is, but I haven't figured them out yet. I have more trouble drawing Donnie than I did Tim and this is literally the second time I've drawn Tim (and the first was just a dumbass doodle I never posted lmao.) I have a bunch of alternate art that I had drafted up for this that will come out later this week, as well as a draft comic I never posted where April was breaking into the school with Donnie instead. And... I'm sure I've probably said enough now. It's late, and I gotta write chapter twelve or something, idk (this is a scheduled post).

I love it here, hope y’all have a wonderful day. 🥹

[lestappenforever]

It’s time to appreciate you a little bit and let you know how much we love your cute little stories of our babies and what you share with us. Getting a notification that you posted something always makes me happy inside 🥰 especially if it’s during work and I can distract myself with cute lestappen. The prompt list is so cute and nice I couldn’t pick the best one 😩😂 but I’ve been having these idea of them being around others and being a pda mess a little and others reacting to them being in a cute bubble. How about 2 and 37? 🥰

This is such a lovely message to start my day with reading, thank you so incredibly much. 🥹

When I started this blog not long ago, I could have never imagined that it would bring people the kind of happiness you're refering to, and I feel so incredibly honored to know that it does. I'm so glad you're enjoying my blog and my writing. Seriously, you have no idea how much your ask means to me, and how much your words have warmed my heart. 💖

I already did 2. "Please?" "Those eyes won't work on me this time." here, and my brain literally will not let me reuse a prompt because as soon as I've written something using that particular prompt, it simply won't let me come up with anything else tied to that sentence for a while.

But, you did ask for two so you're getting two! Throwing in a little 1. "You're cold." "Am not." to make up for not using 2. Lestappen being a PDA mess coming right up! I also saw my chance to write this as a sequel to this and I took it.

---

1."You're cold." "Am not." and 3. "Just... hold my hand?"

Max doesn't know whose brilliant idea it was to gather on the roof of the Alpine motor home the night before the British Grand Prix — who is he kidding, it was probably Pierre's. Or Esteban's — but yet, here they were.

It wasn't as if it was freezing cold in the night air — the last time Max had checked it was around 14°C —but this was England. England with its stupid biting winds.

He'd told Charles to wear a thicker sweater, but the Monégasque had insisted he didn't need it. Hell, Max had even offered to let him borrow his favorite black hoodie, but Charles had been stubborn and refused.

And now the idiot was sitting next to Max, trying and failing to pretend that he wasn't shivering. Trying to hide how pale his hands had gotten due to the cold under the too-thin fabric of the arms of his sweater.

Pierre is telling a story from his karting days back in France, and the whole group is laughing, except Max.

Because Charles is cold next to him, and this whole thing could have been prevented if the Ferrari driver had just listened to him.

"You're cold," Max says to Charles, narrowing his eyes.

Charles turns his head to look at him, cheeks pink from the wind. "Am not."

"You are," Max huffs, rolling his eyes.

"I'm fine, Max."

"You're shivering, Charles."

---

Look, was Lando relieved that Max and Charles had finally done something about the years of unresolved sexual tension between them a couple of months ago? Yes.

Was he happy to see that two of his best friends on the grid had also realized that their feelings for each other went deeper than the physical attraction, and were now officially dating? Absolutely.

Because Max and Charles were still bickering. Not only that, they were bickering cutely. In front of everyone.

But the thing was, Lando had thought — hoped, fucking prayed — that resolving the tension between them would stop them from bickering all the time. Over nothing.

That, apparently, was too much to ask.

And honestly, as adorable as it was to watch, it was still exhausting. Because it was still constant.

Had he known his little scheme to get them to work out their issues would lead to the two of them becoming even more insufferable, Lando would have reconsidered the whole thing.

"Your face is shivering," Charles says to Max, and Lando rolls his eyes.

"That doesn't even make any sense!" Max shoots back, and Lando audibly groans.

The attention of their little group has turned to the pair of them, and everyone aside from Lando are apparently finding the whole thing amusing. Which makes sense, seeing most of them don't also have to deal with it outside of race weekends, when they're all gaming.

"Take my hand," Max demands, holding out his hand for Charles.

Charles glares at it as if it's a dangerous weapon specifically designed to kill him.

"I'm not cold, Max!" Charles insists, like a fucking child.

Lando wonders if throwing himself off of the building would kill him. Wonders if he truly cares if it would.

"Charles," The Red Bull driver says, pinching the bridge of his nose with the hand he isn't still holding out. He says it like Charles is the single cause of every ounce of frustration he as ever felt in his life.

Which, Lando figuers, isn't far from being the truth.

Charles glares at him, but there's no real heat behind it.

"Just... Hold my hand?"

It's a request now, and it's soft and pleading, and Max is looking at Charles with an adorable look on his face. Charles' entire façade crumbles.

"Fine, I'll hold your hand," The Monégasque says with an overly dramatic sigh, as he takes Max's hand and interlocks their fingers. "But I won't be happy about it!"

Max snorts, but doesn't argue. He probably knows that Charles is lying, just like Lando knows that Charles is lying. Just like every single person up here knows he's lying.

Can see it all over Charles' face the second their hands touch.

"You two are ridiculous," Lando announces, throwing his head back. There's fondness in his tone, though, and his words draw a collective laugh from the group.

Next to him, Carlos pats his knee.

"Just be glad you haven't shared a cool-down room with them yet," the Spaniard mumbles.

There mere thought of that makes Lando whine.

[alfhildr-the-word-weaver]

I must say, it's pretty poetic that I've gotten to season 6 of Vampire Diaries right before another solar eclipse happens in America. I certainly didn't plan it, but it does feel like my timing is very appropriate with this one. I do have questions about the accuracy of the eclipse portrayal in the show, though. I mean, a solar eclipse did in fact happen on May 10, 1994, and it was visible across much of the country, so that much is accurate. But I don't think Mystic Falls would've had quite as good of a view as they show it having. For reference, here's a map of the May 1994 eclipse path (credit: timeanddate.com):

And, if you'll remember, Mystic Falls is like two hours from my old hometown just a stone's throw north of Lynchburg, Virginia, as seen on the locator spell map (this one's all over tumblr, forgive me for not remembering what blog I grabbed it from):

So if you zoom in on the timeanddate map and pick somewhere closeish to there:

It looks like Mystic Falls would be getting a little over 77% coverage or so. It's also worth noting that the '94 eclipse was an annular eclipse, not a total eclipse like tomorrow's eclipse. That still means that the moon went directly in front of the sun, but it does mean that it was small enough/far enough from earth that you didn't quite get full coverage of the sun (thanks to weather.gov for the nifty graphic):

So, I'm not positive whether it would've looked quite as dark as was shown in the show:

Although, I must admit, in this video I found on youtube of the '94 eclipse, (part of me is shocked to find footage from then but I know I shouldn't be like yes they had cameras in the 90s) it actually looks more similar than I expected it to look, but I imagine it was most likely filmed within the path of totality:

But also, when Kai takes Bonnie to Portland, don't they see the eclipse again there? I couldn't find that clip on youtube just now, but Portland barely had any eclipse--only 42-43% coverage, so it would've been way milder of a visual effect, barely any dimming in the sky noticeable without eclipse glasses.

The funny thing is, the area where I live is going to be sitting right around 80% coverage tomorrow. I was lucky enough to get to travel to Missouri for the 2017 eclipse to get into the path of totality, but I'm afraid that it hasn't worked out for me to do so this year, which is immensely disappointing to me as an astronomy enjoyer, but I do still plan to go to an eclipse party and I'm going to start saving to try and get to Spain for the next total eclipse in 2026, which is going to be right around my 30th birthday (screaming). Anyways, it isn't great, but here's my best picture from the '17 eclipse:

I didn't even have a smartphone yet then, because despite it being 2017, I was somewhat of a luddite, so I had the purple flip phone I so stubbornly clung to and a point-and-click Nikon, but I still think this picture is pretty cool for what it is. Here's the zoom in so you can really see that ring of fire (and my shaking hands doubling the image):

Obviously you can find thousands of better eclipse pictures online, but that one's still special to me because it's mine. Anyways, I'll report back with smart phone pictures from whatever I see of the 80% total eclipse tomorrow to compare and contrast with Mystic Falls's 70% annular eclipse of the 90s, because from what I've heard it's going to be much less impressive than full totality was, but I've yet to watch a partial solar eclipse, so I'll just have to find out. Also, if you happen to have any vampiric loved ones trapped in a magical prison dimension who you need help freeing during the eclipse tomorrow, let me know and I'll see what I can do! ;) Hahaha. Anyways, happy eclipse everyone, and may we all possess sufficient self restraint to avoid eye damage (says the woman who has looked at the sun unprotected so many times and is probably going to go blind because of it some day. I know what I've done lol. Don't be me.)