#sylvain scribbles

[sylvain-scribbles]

i redrew my first swordvan

[sunstone-smiles]

Ooooh I cannot wait for your TickleTober2023 fics 🤩

If it's possible, I'd like to take Day 4 from Augtickletober2023 (I'm not ticklish) with Fire Emblem 3 Hopes: Lee!Felix, Ler!Sylvain, and Switch!Ashe please

Can't wait to see what you do 🫶🏾💖 Good luck with this TickleTober2023 🌸🩷🫶🏾

Friend or Foe? Maybe Both

Author’s note: Aaaaah!!! Thank you Gladys! I’ve missed these blue lion boys! I hope you all enjoy Day 5 of Tickletober: “I’m not ticklish!” (From August’s Tickletober 2023 list!)

Series: Fire Emblem Three Hopes

Characters: Felix, Sylvain, and Ashe

Word count: 882

Summary: Sylvain comes into the camp’s study to help lighten the workload of Ashe and Felix, but also to help unwind a stubborn noble. 

—

“Sylvain, get off of me,” Felix grumbles while his redheaded friend has an arm wrapped around his neck in a playful chokehold. Felix was minding his own business by organizing some documents in the camp’s study, but Sylvain was able to get the jump on him while he was standing over a table full of books.

“Come on, Felix! Lighten up,” Sylvain uses his free hand to ruffle Felix’s hair, “I come over to help and this is the response I get? Is that anyway to treat an ally?”

Felix glares behind him, “The way you’re acting right now makes me see you more like a foe.”

“Yeouch, harsh words,” Sylvain pretends to take offense. “Ashe, are you hearing this?” The redhead looks towards their silver-haired friend, who’s currently organizing books on the shelf.

“Well, you did take him by surprise, Sylvain,” Ashe smiles over his shoulder. 

“I was only trying to loosen him up,��� Sylvain jostles the arm leaning on Felix’s shoulders. “Get him to act less stiff.”

Felix scoffs and rolls his eyes.

“What? You think I can’t?” Sylvain interprets Felix’s non-verbal action as a challenge. “Okay tough guy.” A smirk appears on Sylvain’s face. “Let’s see how you handle this!”

With that battle cry, Sylvain darts his hands towards Felix’s sides and wiggles his fingers. Air jumps down Felix’s throat in the form of a gasp and he snatches at the wrists still scratching at his sides. He seems to have closed his snarky mouth shut. 

“Sylvain? What are you doing?” he growls. 

“I’m trying to tickle you,” Sylvain answers so casually. This response captures Ashe’s attention and he pauses his work to look their way.

“Yeah, well, I’m not ticklish. So get off!” Felix tries to pry himself away from Sylvain, with no success.

“Really now?” Sylvain’s voice dips with a smirk, “I remember you being super ticklish in the past, especially when we were kids.”

Felix’s squirming becomes more frantic. “That was then. This is now! So for the last time, get off me-hehehe!” Felix suddenly breaks out into giggles when Sylvain claws his fingers up to Felix’s ribs. 

Bingo. Sylvain’s got him. “So, Mr. ‘I’m not ticklish’ is actually ticklish, huh?” Sylvain grins at his victory.

“Sylvahahain!” Felix clamps his arms to his sides and squirms in his friend’s grasp. Sylvain has to wrap one arm around Felix to hold him back while the other scribbles away at the side of his ribs.

“Hey, you’re not getting away that easily!”

Ashe steps over to the scene, “Mind if I help, Sylvain?”

“Please do,” Sylvain quickly recaptures Felix by tightening a bear hug around him, as the blue-haired noble was almost able to wriggle away. “I can’t hold him myself for much longer!”

As he squirms with his hands trapped to his sides, Felix’s eyes widen when he sees Ashe’s wiggling fingers now approaching. “Noho no-! Ahahahashe!” Felix squeals with increased giggles when his second friend joins in the fun by tickling his middle.

“There we go! Now he’s loosening up!” Sylvain says.

“That he is,” Ashe chuckles. “It’s nice to get our friends giggling once in a while.”

“And you know what’s better than one giggling friend, Ashe?” Sylvain asks.

The silver-haired young man gives a puzzled, yet innocent look. “What?”

“Two giggling friends!” Sylvain then releases Felix and lunges towards Ashe. The redhead quickly dives his fingers into Ashe’s ribs, resulting in Ashe flinching back and spilling giggles of his own.

“Hehehey!” the silver-haired friend playfully struggles from the unanticipated attack. He swats at Sylvain’s wrists, leaning back and almost losing his balance. “I thohohought we were ohohon the same teheheam!” 

“We were, but I changed my mind,” Sylvain shrugs with a smile. “I can see why Felix was calling me a foe earlier.”

With another backwards tug, Ashe finally loses his balance and crumbles to the ground. Sylvain jumps down after him, now scribbling into his friend’s belly as Ashe explodes into laughter once more and squirms on the floor.

As Ashe continues giggling his heart out, Felix returns to his serious, down to business expression. With a sigh, he grabs a book off the table, walks over to his friends, then taps Sylvain on the head with the book. “Come on. Enough fooling around. We have work to do.”

“Fiiine,” Sylvain conceads. He pulls his hands away and Ashe curls himself up as the ghost tickles still give him residual giggles. Sylvain then helps his friend back to his feet.

Once Ashe has stabilized himself, he looks to Felix with an embarrassed smile. “Heh, sorry, Felix.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for, Ashe, except for maybe joining in with Sylvain’s scheme.” Felix scowls at Sylvain. “It’s this one who should be sorry for disturbing us.”

“Hey, I think I helped lighten up the mood.” Sylvain pauses to observe Felix. He grins. “Is that a smile I see?”

Felix scoffs. He shoves a book into Sylvain’s chest. “It’s nothing of the sort. You must be imagining things.” The noble walks away to continue his bookkeeping duties. He tucks his head out of sight so his friends don’t see the remnants of the joyful look on his face, but Sylvain and Ashe glance at each other, knowing that Felix’s mood has been successfully lifted.

[claudvain]

Do you have any boring headcanons about the FE3H lot? Like, Sylvain has to make his pieces face the opponent and sit dead centre of the square, or Claude switches which way he starts his braid each day to see if anyone notices?

Oh boy do I they’re all I think about everyday !!!!!!! I’ll share some for Sylvain Claude and Ferdinand (they’ve been hogging all of my brain space alshsj)

Sylvain looks like garbage every time he wakes up— he can never get his hair to cooperate, his eyes are crusty, sleep lines all over his face, the whole nine yards. Man looks like he went through war after 8 full hours of sleep no matter what. I also think Sylvain has a sensitive stomach and is never brave when his tummy hurts and he Will whine about it to anyone within 3 feet of him (will he pay attention to what he eats so he can prevent these tummy aches ??? Absolutely not)

Claude dog ears his book pages. He dog ears them and he writes all over his books and he sticks in pages with more writing, his books are a mess. Claude also only writes in pen/ink, he hates writing with pencils. Something about it just doesn’t hit the same as ink !!!! Which means all his writing is super messy and smudged because he doesn’t wait long enough for it to dry and when he makes a mistake he just scribbles it out and on days where he’s been up working, you can tell because of how stained his hands are from ink

Ferdinand hums to himself constantly. Always. He’s always making some sort of noise or sound— humming, whistling, tapping on something, literally always making noise. He’ll tap his fingers against the table and people like to try and guess what song he’s got stuck in his head based on his tapping. Ferdinand also loves collecting little things, like trinkets and knick-knacks and just anything and everything. He’s got figures and buttons and rocks ribbons and anything he can get his hands on. Ferdinand just relates to Ariel from the little mermaid with her gadgets and gizmos and whosits and whatsits and thingamabobs

Anyways I love them and I love thinking about them

[frigid-arnica]

Call Me But Love - Chapter Three

When Friday came, Felix didn’t notice until after the first period that people were acting weird.

Other students grinned when they caught sight of him in the halls. Or they’d whisper and chuckle behind their hands. 

As soon as he entered the classroom for second period, two boys sitting on the far side of the room did just that, until he shot a glare their way.

“What the hell is wrong with everyone today?” he grumbled, sliding into the desk next to Sylvain.

His friend’s brows rose. “You don’t know?”

Felix frowned suspiciously. “Know what?”

Sylvain’s mouth popped open, before splitting into a grin that he immediately hid behind one hand. “Oh, saints! I thought you knew and you were just doing your aloof thing.”

“Stop talking nonsense and tell me what’s going on, dickhead,” he retorted, glaring. 

Before Sylvain could respond, the bell rang. Their teacher called the class to order and began taking attendance. 

Sylvain scribbled something on the corner of his notebook and slid it toward the edge of his desk.

The teacher called Felix’s name.

“Here,” Felix replied. When the teacher’s attention turned to someone else he leaned over to read Sylvain’s note.

Cast list was posted. You’re Juliet.

Read the whole thing here! Or start at the beginning.

[omgkalyppso]

28, 33, 36! :D

（。＾▽＾）Thank you for the ask!

28. Any writing advice that works for you and you feel like sharing?

Okay a few things. The first is that when you're having a block in a scene I have found that the problem is like 15 sentences back very often. It will hurt cutting out that additional work, but usually any wordplay or dialogue you want to hold onto can be used later (or earlier) or in a different piece entirely.

The second is stop editing while you work (I'm so bad at this), stop worrying about what it looks like, stop imagining an audience. You know what's going on in your own head so things might looks predictable, but your audience doesn't and they go from the blank page to the completed piece. There's something awesome in the oldest sense of that word about that act of creation. Additionally, artists get to scribble. Writers have to learn to do the same. Write drafts. Block dialogue. Write single lines of prose that you can work around later. It doesn't have to just be a whole written piece from start to finish.

And this brings me to my third thing: remember to have fun and to play! This applies more to hobby writers / amateurs / etc. but if you find yourself worrying whether something you're writing is "good enough" then you need to take a step back and be like good enough For What? dfsgsdfgsd I know it's rewarding to hold yourself to a higher standard and to improve and learn and grow, but no one is paying you for this and not everything you write needs to be the best thing you ever wrote. If you get joy — or whatever you're looking for, out of something you've written then it was a success and I applaud you, whether you share it with anyone else or not.

33. Give your writing a compliment.

Being unable to select a line of my writing as a shining example of anything or everything I've ever written isn't a flaw, and I like that I can slowly build a scene with longer descriptions or several lines of dialogue. And I think I'm good at dialogue and staying true to character voices most of the time, even when I bring characters into au's.

36. How do you come up with fic titles? What’s the one you’re most proud of?

I often come up with titles that deal with a concept or theme within the fic like they're grade school writing projects. Sometimes I use puns or memes. Sometimes I use a line someone says in the fic. Once or twice I've used a lyric reference. I think a lot of them could be improved if I was more imaginative, if I used lyrics more often, or found some other way to make them more alluring / comparable to other titles I see by fic authors in the same genres / fandoms.

Some titles I've liked are: To Keeping Promises (Sylvain says this to Lorenz as a 'Cheers' for something to drink to), Trust Or Something Like It (a reference to Sylvain and Dedue's tumultuous relationship and dedication to one another), Commitment Takes Conviction (a reference to Byleth realizing that if he wants a long-term relationship with Yuri that he'll have to find a way to be comfortable with expressing conviction both to Yuri and to his own family), Lazy Barbs Cling Just As Tightly (a pun about the heated words that Claude and Lorenz can share (though they don't in this piece), like "barbed words", and barbs like from burs (like sucker plants that cling to clothing), and the fact that it is about a tired hug where Claude clings to Lorenz), and The Horror of Honor (which almost sort of rhymes and is about Rodrigue finding a book of rhyming poetry and the tragedy of Glenn).

[bouwrites]

Those Warm and Halcyon Days: Chapter 19

Snow

Ao3.

First, Previous, Next.

Story under read-more.

Solon’s body is missing.

The news hits Veery soon after it hits the Golden Deer. Immediately after, if the yelling is any indication. Veery actually goes into the classroom even though it’s technically class time to investigate when he hears it.

“Good news and bad news,” Claude sighs. “The good news is that we know there’s someone else working with Solon in the monastery now.”

“How is that good news?” Lorenz asks.

“The bad news is we now have no way to find them,” Claude finishes. “Damn it.”

That… sums it up, yes. Veery decides to let them handle it and leaves the classroom. Being at a dead end with Solon’s group and the Flame Emperor makes Veery itch to do something productive. It’s frustrating making no progress at all.

But he is making progress on something, at least. He retreats to his room to work on it. He’s spending more time in here, lately, just to work on this. He’d rather take it outside and work on it in the courtyard, but aside from Sylvain, Dorothea, and Linhardt, no one outside the Golden Deer know about it, so he’ll probably get in trouble if he does.

Not that this is the part that he’s supposed to keep secret, but still. The less they talk about Zanado, the better for now. At least until they have a better idea of what they’re dealing with.

Veery likes words, so translating a language he doesn’t know, in a script he doesn’t know, is actually quite a delightful task. It reminds him of stealing scraps of human text, interpreting it and eavesdropping on the humans in Albinea, slowly but surely piecing together symbols and words from context and logic.

Veery knows how language works. It’s one of the few things he’s actually good at. He knows how his own language, Albinean, and Church Common are all structured, what their rules are and what makes sense and what doesn’t. He even has an idea of the grammatical structure of Brigidan, from the way Petra speaks, since her “mistakes” in Church Common are almost definitely glimpses into how Brigidan and Common differ in structure.

Language makes sense to Veery. Probably because he used to study it to give himself courage. He spends so long cowering at the edge of town in Albinea, trying to hype himself up to catch a boat and come to Fódlan, or even to approach the Albineans, but he always chickens out and he always, always retreats to studying language to reassure himself. He doubts it too much, back then, but now he does just fine among Fódlanders, he realizes that he actually does a pretty damn good job with what he’s given.

He may not understand a lot of cultural context, but he has an impressive vocabulary given his origins and it’s only getting bigger by the day. He wouldn’t be half as far as he is if he couldn’t identify rules and structure among these masses of unfamiliar scribbles. It’s not easy, but he’s done it before.

The hardest part, he thinks, will be figuring out what the words mean. He doesn’t really need to know what they sound like, since he doesn’t think it’s necessary to speak this language, but without the context of someone using it, it will be very difficult to figure out what the script says, even if he can identify how sentences work and what each letter and word is.

He’s hoping that the script on the walls of the ancient agell ruins, which looks similar to this, is at least related to his own language. He might have to stretch it a bit, since he’ll be going across three (probably distantly) related languages, one of which he doesn’t know, but he’ll at least have something to work with. With absolutely no context, he thinks reconstructing this will be impossible.

Interestingly, though, the structure seems nearly nonexistent. There are no clearly defined sentences, or phrases, or anything of the sort. Letters become apparent, and he assembles an alphabet quite easily, but – and this is his breakthrough – he doesn’t think this wall reads anything at all. Or rather, it’s not sentences like out of a storybook.

He thinks, instead, that it’s a list of names.

The funny thing about names, though, is that they don’t help him much in interpreting the language, even if he can figure out how to say them, which he doubts he can. What they do do for him, however, is add context. And context is the most important thing in this.

Why would names be inscribed into a wall? Why so many names? Why is the wall different than the surrounding structures? What are these two headers that Veery and Claude identify?

The most obvious answer? It’s a memorial. Like in the story, where a foreign god comes to the wasteland and plants a flower in memory of those lost to the extinction. This wall is the mass gravestone of… at least a great number of those lost.

Who remembers them, though, that they can carve those names? The goddess? Veery doesn’t know the powers of the goddess. Maybe she can pluck the names of the dead from history in order to record them. It isn’t the most farfetched theory.

If he’s right, then Claude’s header is obvious. It’s just a note of remembrance. Veery’s header, however, with the smaller box of names under it… that’s interesting. Maybe this is the names of especially notable people. Maybe people who fought the extinction? Or people that the creator of the wall had some connection to?

Is this even relevant to anything? Veery is honestly not sure. He doesn’t think it is. A memorial to those lost in the mass extinction isn’t relevant when the vast majority of what he’s dealing with has to do with modern day or, at best, the War of Heroes.

It’s interesting, though. Veery likes words, so this is a lot of fun for him.

“Will you be attending Dorothea’s dancing lessons?” Edelgard asks Veery once they’re seated for tea.

Veery just blinks dumbly at her. “…Should I?”

Edelgard holds back a chuckle. “You will attend the ball, won’t you? Perhaps I am wrong, but I do not think you know any ballroom dancing.”

“Ballroom dancing?” Veery curls his lip. “Uh, no. I don’t. That sounds like more of your stupid court rule things.”

“In a manner of speaking, yes. Dance is standardized here, to a certain extent. Still, you should at least try it. It is more fun than it sounds.”

Veery frowns into his tea, thinking about it. “Am I even allowed at the ball?”

“Whyever not?” Edelgard asks. “It is a student event.”

“I’m not a student.”

“Hm.” Edelgard does giggle at him now. “You say that, and yet…”

“I’m literally not a student,” he protests.

Edelgard quickly composes herself. “Yes, of course. Regardless, you will be expected at the ball. Even if anyone were to try to crack down on the technicalities of it, I can think of more than a few students, including myself, if necessary, who would be more than happy to take you as their date. In which case, there is no more problem. No?”

“Fair enough,” Veery admits. Even if it’s just in name to get him through the doors, he can definitely imagine some of the students bringing him as their date to this ball. “That’s assuming I have any interest in it, though. I’m a hermit, remember? Packing myself into a hall with a bunch of people and trying to keep up with your fancy human noble customs sounds like an actual nightmare to me.”

Edelgard smiles into her tea. “I am confident that even Bernadetta will at least show her face. I hope you’re aware that I expect no less from you.”

“Bernie’s going?” Veery asks. “More reason for me not to, then. I don’t think she’s ever seen me and not fainted. It’s been months.”

Edelgard makes an uncomfortable face at that. “Ah, yes. I… do hope you aren’t taking that personally. Bernadetta is…”

“I know,” Veery says honestly. “You don’t have to make excuses for her. No one can blame prey for running away.”

“Prey?”

Veery shrugs. “Not that I’m hunting her. That… probably wasn’t the best way to say it. I mean that she’s conditioned to think like prey. It’s obvious from… everything she is. She thinks everything is a threat to her. Honestly, we’re not that different.”

“Hm. I see.”

“Anyway,” Veery says. “I guess if I’m invited, I can at least come and observe a little. I wonder how your balls compare to agell festivals.”

“That’s the spirit.” Edelgard smiles. “Though, you do know that there’s no chance of you escaping the dance floor, correct? You have too many friends who will be far too eager for a dance with you.”

“A poor decision on their part. As you’ve rightly guessed, I don’t know Fódlan dancing at all.” Veery shakes his head as he smiles. “Honestly, I was never a… socialite, even back home. I spent most of my festival time either avoiding everyone and exploring or bugging the elders for stories.”

“That is why you should have Dorothea teach you,” says Edelgard. “You are coordinated, graceful, and intelligent. I’m sure you will be an excellent dancer in no time.”

“I never said I can’t dance, but we don’t have structured dance. …Well, if I’m going, I’ll need to at least try to learn,” Veery says. “So, why not?”

“I am delighted to hear it,” Edelgard says. “And I’m sure Dorothea will be happy to see you there, as well.”

Yes, probably. Dorothea is really nice. Veery knows her well enough by now to know that she will be among those who are very insistent that he attend the ball.

“I hope you will forgive me for bringing up Remire…” Edelgard says carefully, after a sufficient pause to know that the previous topic is exhausted. “I understand that you were the one to kill Solon.”

“I am.” Veery nods. He doesn’t… mind talking about it. It’s terrible, but avoiding speaking of it, acting as if it doesn’t happen, isn’t going to help anyone. “Though, Lysithea is one who gave me the chance to do it.”

Edelgard hums. “I’m sure you’re tired of hearing this already, but I feel I must thank you for ridding this world of the likes of him. Anyone who commits such atrocities surely deserves that fate.”

Veery bites his lip and looks away. It’s true, really. Veery doesn’t hesitate to kill Solon. In fact, Veery delights in Solon’s death. It feels good to hold Solon’s lifeless body, to feel the snap of bones and the hot splash of blood and the soft flesh in his teeth, when those bones and that blood and that flesh belongs to someone so reprehensible.

Veery knows there is no salvaging that situation. When they meet on the battlefield, even if Solon does not condemn humanity and the agell both, even if Solon does not push those very specific buttons that makes Veery so angry, when they meet on the battlefield, there’s only a very limited number of options available to them. Death for either or both sides, or retreat for either or both sides.

Still… even still… in killing Solon, does Veery merely prove himself to be the beast that Solon accuses him of being? Does his delight in Solon’s death make him base and savage? Those are questions Veery can’t answer. They bother him.

He doesn’t like the feeling of relishing death, even if it’s the death of someone so horrid. Veery feels no hate for the hunters who killed his parents, he feels no hate for the humans who trap and kill his kind, he holds no hate for those agell who think humans cruel and savage and worthy of retribution. Solon takes it too far, doing what he does to Remire and to Flayn, but at his core Veery believes he’s the same as all those others.

“You don’t seem pleased about that,” Edelgard says calmly.

“Not exactly,” Veery admits. “Honestly, I’m uncomfortable with how pleased I am by his death. I shouldn’t take pleasure in death, no matter who it is. It feels… wrong.”

Edelgard eyes him curiously. “One can hardly blame you for being happy that Solon is dead. After what he did to Remire, I’m sure everyone here is glad he is dead.”

Veery clenches his jaw for a moment, and then releases it with a sigh. “Just because it’s a common reaction doesn’t make it right,” Veery says quietly. “But… it’s more than just that. I don’t actually care if it’s right or wrong. Right or wrong doesn’t even really matter. I’m just not satisfied with my own actions that day.”

“You performed your duty brilliantly; I’m led to believe. Where do you find fault with yourself?”

“When Solon called Marianne a beast, I got angry. When he called me… the lowest of beasts, I was furious. I was… indignant, because he did something so horrible and then looked down on us.”

Edelgard smiles sympathetically. “An understandable reaction. I would have felt the exact same way. I do, as a matter of fact.”

It’s true, and Veery can’t help the way he feels about things. That isn’t the problem. The problem is how he acts. “…I wanted to kill him. I wanted to kill him, and I attacked him and followed through with it.” He looks up, somewhat helplessly to Edelgard. “I’ve never wanted to kill anyone before. Not the hunters who killed my parents, not humans who threw rocks and spears at me, not… not anyone. I don’t like that I’m capable of that kind of…”

“It was not wrong to wish to kill him,” Edelgard says gently. “He threatened you, your friends, and your entire species. He destroyed Remire. That instinct to kill him is in self-defense. It drove you to protect the lives of more people than we probably know.”

Is it really? Veery honestly doesn’t know. “You asked me before if there was anything I’d give my life to do,” Veery says. “I said no, because… I’ve never felt that way before. I’ve never put aside my own safety for anything. Even in a hunt, if I’m more likely to be killed by the prey than I am to get food, it’s better to go hungry. When I’m attacked, I get away, not hit back. Even on the missions before, I only killed because I was in a situation where they’d kill me if I didn’t. But with Solon… he would’ve just left. He almost did. I attacked him, with intent to kill. He could’ve seriously hurt me – he might have if Lysithea didn’t support me – but I didn’t care. I just wanted to kill him.”

Edelgard hums sadly. “So, you do understand. Sometimes, when we encounter something that we cannot live with, there is only one way forward.”

Veery roughly shakes his head. “There’s never only one way forward. We always have so many options available to us.” He sighs. “And worrying about which one is best is how people drive themselves mad. All we can do is our best – react in the moment and accept the consequences. I’m just… not sure how I feel about what my reaction says about me.”

“…And what does it say about you, do you think?”

Veery ducks his head, unable to meet Edelgard’s penetrating gaze. “I feel… savage. Cruel. Killing Solon is one thing. Even if he wasn’t invested in killing me that day, he made it clear that he intends to eventually, so it was, at the time, a kill or be killed fight regardless. I doubt I could have reasoned with him, so that was the best I could do. I could have tried, but… that aggression I had, and how I felt when I broke his neck… I shouldn’t ever feel that way about killing a person, shouldn’t ever act that way. That wasn’t okay.”

“Even though Solon is so reprehensible?”

Veery sighs. “Solon is an extreme.” He looks up to meet her gaze. “He’s so comically evil that it’s hard not to excuse it, but… people think others are reprehensible for so many different reasons. Monks here at the monastery think I’m reprehensible, because I’m an agell in Garreg Mach. Agell think the humans are reprehensible, because they take our fur to warm themselves. Rhea thought the Western Church was reprehensible, because they rose against her. Who’s right and wrong in those situations? Is it okay to delight in the death of others just because we think they’re reprehensible?” He shakes his head. “Solon thought we were reprehensible, because we aren’t part of… whatever group he’s a part of. Does that make his killing okay?”

Edelgard is quiet for a long time, staring at her tea as it cools. “So, you believe there is no good reason to kill?”

Veery shakes his head. “Once you’re in a fight, once you’re already standing against each other, you have to do what you can to survive. I won’t feel guilty about killing if it means I’m alive at the end of the day. What’s not okay is starting the fight in the first place. There are so many better ways to handle every situation, but when you start a fight, you limit yourself to what you must do to survive.”

“I see,” Edelgard says, taking a sip of her tea. “I believe I understand you a little better now. So, tell me. If you find that part of yourself unacceptable, that part that delighted in Solon’s death, what do you do about it? Do you cut it out, or accept it anyway?”

Veery wrinkles his nose. “That’s a stupid question.”

“Excuse me?”

“It’s unacceptable. You can’t accept it anyway if it’s unacceptable,” Veery says with a shrug. “But cutting it out… it’s not… not an arrow in me. It’s a feeling. I can’t cut it out any more than I can accept it.”

Edelgard tilts her head. “Another option, then? You believe there are always more, correct?”

“I do.” Veery nods. “My feelings are products of my perception of the world. I react to things in certain ways because of how I perceive those things. I perceive Solon’s actions as terrible, because the way I see the world is such that an action like that is terrible. And how I perceive the world is a product of the lessons I’ve learned and the memories I���ve made.”

“I… think I see what you mean. If you want to change the way you feel about something, you must learn more about it,” Edelgard says. “That is why you’re here with us humans, is it not?”

“It is,” Veery confirms. “I was so afraid of humans, and so tired of being afraid. I want us all to get along, so that I can live in peace, without fear of humans hunting me down and killing me. I can’t- I can’t cut out those feelings as if they’re something foreign put inside me. They’re just products of my experiences. Even if I could cut them out… that’d just leave me empty. Not better.”

“That…” Edelgard huffs a small laugh. “That is very wise. And very brave. You have a most interesting mind, Veery.”

Veery shrugs. “Not really. I just do what I know how to.”

Veery is sleeping when the first snowfall comes. Gods, does Veery miss the snow.

He awakens in the dark to gentle snowfall, his Albinean instincts telling him to get up and to shelter immediately. He does have an admittedly bad habit of sleeping in the courtyard, since he prefers being outdoors, but cold-resistant as he is, even he can’t simply nap out there and be buried.

It’s so exciting to see snow again that he can hardly just go back to sleep, anyway. For a while, he’s convinced that it just doesn’t snow here at the monastery. He knows Faerghus gets snow, but he’s sure that it should be snowing heavily for a while now and until today sees only fleeting rains at best.

He takes shelter inside the Golden Deer classroom and watches the snow outside the window, unable to contain his widening grin as he sees it slowly build up. It brings him so much pleasure simply to watch the snow pile up that the next thing he knows, the sun is peeking over the horizon and the day is already beginning.

Veery is a lot of things, but he’s not a complicated person. He’s a hermit by nature, one content and happy in solitude and more than eager to enjoy such an isolated life. He’s a survivalist, who lives off the land with few luxuries to make his lifestyle more comfortable or entertaining. As such, he’s accustomed to making his own entertainment.

Even so, it is quite a remarkable note on his progress here at Garreg Mach, getting comfortable with humans, that his first thought now is simply to play.

It’s not as if he doesn’t ever play around here with the humans, but those instances are becoming more and more common. When Veery first comes to Garreg Mach, he is so terrified of everything that he probably can’t play if his life depends on it. Yet now, with the first snow of winter, Veery enters the courtyard and frolics.

And when Ingrid steps into the courtyard, early for today’s classes, Veery stops his rolling around in the snow to smile and wave at her, and she laughs, puts her things in her classroom, and reemerges to join him.

Faerghans must be of a similar heart, he thinks, for even Ingrid to be so eager to play in the snow. It’s just a shame, they silently agree, for the first snow of winter to not be enjoyed as it should.

It’s not long before Felix passes by and Ingrid nails him with a snowball. Predictably, Felix retaliates and the courtyard becomes an all out war between the two. Snickering, Veery ducks beneath a snowball and gathers a handful of snow to return fire. He’s mostly on Ingrid’s side, but she does shove a handful of snow down his shirt and he does knock a tree to make the collected snow on the above branches drop down on her, but with Felix’s assault the two join forces against him.

And then Annette joins, followed closely by Mercedes, supporting Felix, then Ashe stumbles in and joins Ingrid’s side. Dimitri shows up a minute later, laughing at the scene and unflinchingly joining in himself, splitting with Dedue to keep each team even in numbers.

Mercedes has a surprisingly mean arm, and Dedue is so large and unyielding that he easily protects his comrades. But Ingrid’s team is overall more agile and avoid the vast majority of hits.

Veery hears and smells her coming but allows Flayn to “sneak” up on him and dump snow over his head, yowling dramatically when she does so and turning to see her mischievous snicker. He gets her back by picking her up and falling back into the snow – himself first so as not to hurt her – and rolling over to smother her in the ice.

She screams, from delight and the sting of cold both, the same as Annette squeals as Ingrid manages to strike her with a snowball, and as Ashe yelps when Sylvain appears to pull the back of his collar and drop a handful of snow down his shirt.

Shrill laughter joins the shrieks, a cacophony of serious, barked orders as if they’re on a battlefield and the breathless joy of play rings over the courtyard, and from the volume likely much more of Garreg Mach.

Other students join in, too, not just the Lions. Petra shows up wide-eyed in wonder at the snow and eagerly participates, but bows out after only a few minutes, unable to bear the dampness and cold despite her exertions. Likewise, Claude comes in and turns the tide of battle, with Flayn and Veery both, and Leonie, Hilda, and Raphael to form a temporary, impromptu Golden Deer team before he and most of the other Deer likewise retire from cold – though they withstand it much longer than Petra. The other Eagles join in, too, with the obvious exceptions. Edelgard and Caspar both prove forces to be reckoned with, though Caspar admittedly struggles to make a snowball that won’t fall apart in the air before some of the Lions take pity on him and give him pointers.

Ingrid stops unexpectedly, millimeters away from shoving her handful of snow directly in Sylvain’s face, and everyone else likewise stops to follow her gaze to the professors. All three of them. And Captain Jeralt. And Seteth. The noise quiets all at once.

Seteth, at first, worries over Flayn, but quickly turns to lecturing them all about decorum. Everyone bows their heads, suitably chastised, until Professor Byleth unceremoniously dumps an armful of snow on Seteth’s head.

Veery can’t help but giggle, though he, like most, also gasps at the surprise of such a bold action.

“P-professor!” Seteth exclaims, scandalized and flustered by the unexpected assault.

“It’s the first snow day,” Captain Jeralt says with a shrug and a knowing smirk. “Let the kids have their fun.”

Professor Byleth makes a snowball and raises her brow at the gathered students, looking between them all seriously.

“Professor’s on our team!” Sylvain yells suddenly.

“Wha-? No way, she’s with us!” Ingrid retorts.

Professor Byleth smirks, looks back to her father, and then to Professors Hanneman and Manuela, and earns nods from the lot of them.

Oh, dear.

The four of them wreak havoc on the students. Seteth sighs, shaking his head disappointedly, but is pelted with enough snowballs from both students and teachers alike to be egged into joining the battle.

It’s the most fun Veery has in… maybe his whole life.

“Professor?”

Professor Byleth looks up from her desk and whatever paperwork is on it and raises her brow. “Veery? How can I help you?”

Veery bites his lip. “I’m… I’m sorry. I probably shouldn’t bother you with this, since I’m not actually part of your class, but…”

“You’re my student,” Professor Byleth says firmly. “How can I help you?”

Veery ducks his head, cheeks warming a little at the affirmation. “I, uh… I was thinking about the battle at Remire. About what role I played in the battle.” Professor Byleth tilts her head slightly, listening intently and not interrupting. “I… I don’t like shifting back to this form on the battlefield. My teeth and claws are my weapons, so it feels like… intentionally disarming myself. I’m not helpless like this, but…”

Professor Byleth nods slowly. “I can see your concern. Did you already have a solution in mind?”

Veery nods. “It does occur to me… if I can learn how to use my magic while shifted, I won’t need to cripple myself on the battlefield to heal. I mean, with strangers like those villagers, I probably would anyway, but as it is, I need to either devote myself to being a brawler or a healer. That limits my options a lot. Plus, offensive Faith magic is probably the last thing an enemy will expect when they see me on the battlefield. I’m still working on that, but Nosferatu will make me a lot more versatile, I think.”

“Very well. Allow me to speak to Professor Hanneman to draw up a training plan that might work. Or, if you’d like, we could go together.”

Veery hums. “Let me know when. I may as well go.”

“I’m nearly done with this report,” Professor Byleth says. “And he should be in his office at this time of day. We can go in just a few minutes if you don’t mind waiting.”

“Not at all.” Veery smiles. “And, um… thanks. I thought about trying to figure it out myself. I think I probably can, but… I thought I’d ask a teacher, anyway. I know you don’t have to help me, so I appreciate you taking the time.”

Professor Byleth smiles. “You’re my student. I’ll help you with whatever you need.”

Part of Veery still protests that he is still literally not her student, but… honestly, he’s starting to accept that that point is moot to just about everyone who matters.

Veery waits patiently. It’s no time at all, really, before they’re on their way up to Professor Hanneman’s office.

He invites them in eagerly, seemingly delighted by their visit. Veery has no doubt that he is, given that Professor Byleth and he are some of Professor Hanneman’s favorite test subjects.

Professor Byleth allows Veery to explain why they’re there, and Professor Hanneman perks up even more when he learns the reason for the visit. “You wish to use magic while shifted?” Professor Hanneman says, stroking his beard.

“Well, I’m pretty much giving up hope of not being dragged into whatever the next battle is,” Veery says. “So, yeah. I don’t want to be a liability going around unshifted on a battlefield.”

“I see. That is a wonderful idea. Absolutely wonderful. As a matter of fact, I am quite curious how your heart reacts to your use of magic. Is it at all similar to how Crested individuals wield the power of Heroes’ Relics?” Hanneman chuckled and nods to himself, delighted with whatever he’s thinking. “I will set some time aside each week and work with you personally on not just using magic while shifted, but some introductory Reason magic as well. You’re competent enough with Faith, so more tools in your arsenal will only help, after all.”

“Makes sense,” Veery says. “Are you sure you don’t mind putting aside the time? Aren’t you already busy with your research?”

“Why, I’m never too busy to help one of my students!” Professor Hanneman says happily. “Besides, working with you directly on your magic will allow me the chance to make valuable observations of your Crest at work. Two birds with one stone, as they say!”

That… makes more sense, admittedly. He will still be doing research even as he teaches Veery. That sounds like Professor Hanneman.

“Though in truth, I believe you will have little trouble managing it,” Professor Hanneman says. “If you can still control the magic inside of you while shifted, there should be no difference in application.”

“I can,” Veery says. “I can sense magic the same, too. Maybe better, actually.”

Professor Hanneman nods and hums and strokes his moustache. “The primary difficulty will be to figure out the focus point from which you will expel your magic. As you know, by convention, we use the palms of our hands. This is both tradition, standardized to prevent nasty surprises when facing mages, but also practical. The palms of the hands, the bottom of the feet, the top of the head, and the scrotum are the natural exit points of energy from the body, so they are by far the easiest places to make your expulsion points. For someone first exploring magic, especially without proper tutelage, those may be the only possible places to successfully do so, and the palms of the hands are, from those options, by far the most practical. Not the least of which because they are usually the only ones uncovered, unless you want to risk a fire spell burning the hair off your head. That said, theoretically, these points from which you will summon your magic can be anywhere on your body, and you can have up to a few – certain ruffian types are known to add two extras, right on the tip of a finger on each hand. For use in escaping bindings, primarily, since fingers are too fragile for much powerful war magic.

“It is possible to have more, though. Why, I know of one quite extraordinary, and entertaining, mage who made seven! Though I’ve never heard of more than that. It starts to become dangerous, you see, having so many open expulsion points where magic may leak without proper control, especially if they are distributed all across the body and do not align with the natural exits of energy… Where was I? Ah, my point is it should be no trouble for you to work on making another one, though I wouldn’t recommend more than two extra. Only one, if you can get away with it. The problem is figuring out where.”

Veery frowns. The point that the magic leaves his body… that’s what gives a spell direction, usually. He simply points that expulsion point at whatever he’s targeting and pushes out the magic. He can tell that the exits he already has, in the palms of his hands, translate to the pads of his paws when he’s shifted, but it’s true that that isn’t a very practical place to have it if he’s fighting.

Not completely unreasonable. If he’s just healing, it shouldn’t matter that much for him to lift a paw to touch his patient, and offensively he’s usually leaping up onto enemies anyway. It does somewhat eliminate the range advantage that using offensive magic will give him over simply clawing someone, though.

He ponders what he can use that he can point at an enemy from a range. “My nose?” he asks. It’s the obvious answer. It’s what leads him. He walks in the direction his nose points. He’s always facing his enemy if he’s attacking them.

“…Possibly.” Professor Hanneman frowns. “I worry that magic formed on your nose may impair your vision or sense of smell. While the excess magic you release protects the area around the expulsion point from your own spell, if you, say try to summon a Fire spell and embers blow back into your eyes…”

Veery frowns. “Good point. That’s bad.”

Professor Byleth tilts her head for a moment, and then says, “What if you were like a dragon?”

“Like a…” Veery furrows his brow, trying to figure out what she means. It clicks a moment later. “Oh! Like breathing fire! If I made the exit point in my mouth, I could direct it with no problem and since it’s more contained, the excess magic wouldn’t scatter as easily, so most likely my whole mouth would be protected. Is that what you mean?”

Professor Byleth nods.

“Hmm.” Professor Hanneman hums, nodding. “That could work. I’ve read about circus performers who do something similar to give the appearance of breathing fire. Yes… yes, I’ll do some calculations to be sure, but I believe that should work. Hold on for a moment, please.”

Professor Hanneman grabs some chalk off his desk and frantically rummages through a messy cupboard for some notes and starts scribbling a bunch on numbers on a blackboard. Veery glances over to Professor Byleth to see if she understands what he’s doing at all, but she’s just watching him attentively, her face giving away none of her thoughts.

Veery sighs. Math really isn’t his strong suit, anyway. He’s better with words than numbers. Even when he tries to remember dates, he only gets by with thinking about the events and using broad terms with simple numbers like “about a thousand years ago” and “around the time of this significant event” rather than the actual year on the calendar. Then again, Albinea has a different calendar than Fódlan does and Veery specifically doesn’t have any calendar for most of his life, so maybe that’s to be expected.

“Aha!” Professor Hanneman exclaims. Veery refocuses on him. “Yes, if the magic is expelled from the back of the mouth, it will disperse… Very good! Very good. Veery, you will want your expulsion point in the very rear of your mouth. From that point, magical dispersion should protect the entirety of your mouth. Just do remember to open up when you cast, yes?”

Ugh, Veery doesn’t want to think about what will happen if he doesn’t. That’s a potential problem, though. Much like how mages need their hands free to cast spells because the palms of their hands need to be unobstructed, his mouth will likewise need to be open. And he can’t be biting anything, either, unless he wants to seriously damage whatever he already has in his mouth and risk damaging his own mouth too in the process.

Lysithea mentions that some mages get around the hands-free problem by making the tips of their fingers expulsion points. The same people Hanneman calls ruffians, Veery guesses. That way, they can hold a sword and point to cast with the same hand. It works, apparently, but isn’t as common because of how fragile individual fingers are. A break could mean crippling their ability to cast. It takes a lot of control to be able to cast that way, and since it’s mostly only applicable if you’re also using a weapon anyway, most mages can’t or won’t devote the time to mastering their magic that much. It’s much easier to just use the sword in one hand and use magic in the other. Or just use a levin sword, which is designed to have magic pumped into the handle.

Veery doesn’t have such solutions already waiting for him, though, because he’s treading new ground doing this at all. Honestly, when dragons and theory are the best references he has, he’s clearly doing something unconventional.

“You should start immediately on forming that expulsion point.” Professor Hanneman instructs him. “It shouldn’t take nearly as long as your first time, since there is so much less guesswork when you already have the experience, but as you know, it will take time and effort before you will be casting anything that way. Once you’ve successfully managed to expel magic with that expulsion point, you will absolutely not cast any sort of magic using it until both Professor Manuela and I are available to observe. Until we are one hundred percent positive that it is safe, I must insist on this point.”

Veery agrees eagerly. “I understand. The last thing I want to do is damage the inside of my mouth, so you don’t need to worry about me being reckless with it.”

“Very good.” Professor Hanneman nods. “In that case, I’ll begin drawing up a lesson plan with Professor Byleth to schedule our Reason and shifted magic lessons. Do you have any further questions or concerns? Anything planned that I’m unaware of that should be taken into account for scheduling?”

Veery honestly doesn’t do much around here. Not that’s scheduled, anyway. All he does is assist the teachers occasionally, usually Professor Byleth, train, and do the occasional chores. Everything else is entirely his own study and time that can be shifted however he pleases. “I don’t believe so,” he says.

“Excellent. Then do begin on opening that expulsion point.” Professor Hanneman grins. “I must admit, I am most thrilled to begin these lessons!”

[hanburgers]

Learn to appreciate real art when you hear it, Sylvain.

[bylaudelekha]

the Angst 100 dimivain prompt is up!!

hope you enjoy crying as much as i did, friends!!

can this even be labelled dimivain?? it's one sided idk

[waveoftheocean]

0.2 seconds later they fall over and sylvain gets snow in his armor. ah, the price of romance⚘⚘

(happy new year everyone!!!!!)

[flamingopuuuunch]

sylvain

companion piece to felix

[archaicden]

a promise.

[sylvain-scribbles]

doodle page

[sunstone-smiles]

Can I request Day 9 of Miya and Mia"s TickleTober2023 (mirrors) with Lees!Sylvain and Ashe where their reflections are tickling them? That'd be pretty cool!

-🦋

It's Like Looking Into a Mirror

Author’s note: Hello Butterfly anon! I took some liberties with the idea of “reflections” and instead turned it into look-alikes created by Annette’s magic! I hope you all enjoy Day 9 of Tickletober: Mirrors! (From Miya and Mia’s Tickletober list!)

Series: Fire Emblem Three Houses

Characters: Sylvain, Ashe, and Annette

Word count: 813

Summary: Annette has some new magic to show Sylvain and Ashe, but this magic is intended to be used for the fall-themed festival, so there might be a trick up her sleeve as she shows it off.

—

The academy’s spooky harvest festival is just around the corner, so everyone is busy making preparations for the event. Outside in the academy’s marketplace, Sylvain and Ashe work together to decorate wooden booths and stations with autumn themed materials.

“Hey you two!”

The boys look in the direction of the feminine voice calling in their direction. They see their fellow Blue Lion’s student, Annette, running towards them with a wave of her hand. In her other hand is a magic tome. She stops running and has a twinkle in her eyes. “There’s something I want to show you both!”

“You seem pretty excited,” Sylvain observes. 

“What is it?” Ashe asks with a curious inflection.

“Watch this!” Annette lifts up the tome and waves her hand above it. Purple, sparkling magic swirls around her fingers until it shoots forward on the ground in front of her in two separate beams. From the ground up, the purple magic begins creating an image of a person with legs and an academy uniform, but the real surprise is when Ashe and Sylvain see the faces of these conjured up figures. They share their exact likeness, with their same hair, facial features, and all. 

“Ta-da!” Annette cheers.

“Whoa!” Sylvain exclaims as he looks at the magic form of himself. “Handsome fella. It’s like looking into a mirror.”

“Two mirrors,” Ashe jokes in response. “This is wonderful Annette!”

“Thanks!” Annette smiles. “I thought the magic would be useful for fun entertainment at the harvest festival.” The orange-haired female pauses for a moment to look at her two friends. “But there’s one more thing I forgot to show you with it.”

“What’s that?” Sylvain asks.

“You’ll see.” Annette places her tome under her arm to free her hands. Like a puppet master controlling strings, Annette moves her fingers to control both the Magic-made Ashe and the Magic-made Sylvain. The real Ashe and Sylvain are startled at first when the two forms start moving, but they soon become intrigued the more they watch Annette’s magic.

“Whoa! I didn’t expect them to move too,” Ashe says, keeping his eyes on the approaching figures.

“Me neither,” Sylvain says. Although, his impressed expression soon turns into concern when Annette maneuvers the figures to walk behind them. They didn’t think that their own selves could be so intimidating, but they were in this moment.

“Um, Annette?” Sylvain glances his eyes towards the girl while his focus stays on his magic-made reflection. The only answer he gets is a giggle from Annette. (If Annette of all people isn’t giving him a straight answer, then that can’t be a good sign.) With a flick of Annette’s wrist, the two figures dart out their magic-made hands and, surprisingly, start tickling the real Ashe and Sylvain.

The two male Blue Lions yelp with a jolt at the sudden, silly surprise attack, followed by roaring laughter from the two students. Ashe squeezes his arms to his side and tries to curl himself up, while Sylvain tries to shove the shadowy figure away. 

“Hehehey! Wahahait a mihihihinute!” Sylvain playfully exclaims.

“Ahahahannette!” Ashe squeals through his laughter. He ends his sentence with a squeak as the figure scribbles into his ribs, as if his magical doppelgänger is aware of exactly where he's ticklish.

The girl giggles again as she wiggles both sets of her fingers to control the magic figures tickling her friends. “How do you like the second part of my trick? It’s really just to show how the magic can interact with physical objects, but I thought that it would be more fun to test it this way! Plus, there’s usually monsters at the harvest festival, right? So what better monster to have than a tickle monster!”

“Yehehes, we see thahahat!” Sylvain shoots his arms down to pry the hands of the magic-made figure with his likeness away from squeezing his sides.

“It’s vehehehery impressive Annette,” Ashe giggles from his curled up state, “but I thihihink we're both tickled ohohohout!”

“Hehe! Okay, I hear you,” Annette smiles and throws both of her hands to her sides like a conductor of an orchestra. The magic-made Blue Lions disappear into a breeze of purple dust. Ashe and Sylvain immediately wrap their arms around themselves. Annette walks closer to check up on them.

“You two okay?” the girl asks with concern.

“Yeah,” Sylvain smiles with a breathless chuckle. He takes a moment to breath some more air. “That was a…strange experience. Do I really look that menacing when I’m tickling someone?”

“As someone who’s been on the receiving end of your tickle attacks many times, yes,” Ashe teases beside him.

Sylvain scoffs and gives Ashe a playful shove. The silver-haired boy giggles and so does Annette. The harvest festival might be intended to be scary, but its autumn themed decorations, spooky mazes, and even entertaining magics, are all in the spirit of fun.

[knightingaleforce]

[boxkiri]

bunch of blue lions childhood friends scribbles taken from my twitter lol

[demogorgon]

she put them in time out