#the lighting is so different from anything i've done before which made it so fun to try!

[jae-birde]

(Click image for better quality)

This shot from the latest update of @somerandomdudelmao's series was absolutely incredible, and I desperately needed to colour it after I saw it. I had a lot of fun with the colouring and details, and I also really wanted to get this before the next update.

[libraryofgage]

@holyangelstudentuniverse requested the following: Steve working at Bath & Body Works while Eddie is the mall pianist?

I love it omfg, your brain is fantastic I hope I did the idea justice

(if you see any typos no you didn't <3)

The old food court pianist was...okay. Technically, she was good; she knew how to play and rarely made mistakes. She was also clearly just there for the bi-weekly check (not that Steve can blame her), and her playing reflected that. The piano became the ideal white noise, loud enough to lessen the awkwardness of any silence but not so amazing that people couldn't ignore it in favor of conversing with each other.

The new food court pianist? He's a fucking enigma.

He's very clearly skilled, and he seems to actually enjoy the job. He plays like Billy Joel and Elton John met one night, had a piano contest, and then had a baby to create the perfect pianist. He's great and energetic and can play anything from Mozart to fucking Cardi B, and Steve wishes he'd quit already so he can actually focus on his own shitty mall job instead of getting absorbed in the guy's playing.

"You should just hook up with him," Robin says one day, hip-checking Steve as she passes by with a box of Cherry Blossom products. She restocks the soap bottles first, then the perfume, then the lotions, and finally the tiny hand sanitizers with their shitty little plastic flip-caps that Steve swears break for the fucking fun of it.

Steve, meanwhile, is replacing last week's sales signs with new ones. They're the exact same. They rarely change, actually. The only difference is the "expiration" date at the bottom, which changes if only to continually sell customers that sense of urgency that results in them buying $50 worth of products they'll forget about until the holidays come around and they need white elephant gifts.

He's almost done, too. All that's left are the signs by the metal gate pulled down over the store's entrance. They'll open it in about an hour to prepare for the mall's opening, but for now, it's staying down to discourage the mini-bodega clerk in the middle of the hall from flirting with Robin and trying to sell her shitty perfume like she can't just steal shitty perfume from Bed Bath and Beyond at the end of the day.

He waits until after he's switched the sign to turn around, arms crossed over his chest. His back is to the gate, and Steve would normally be too fucking paranoid about a blind spot to withstand it, but he's in argument mode.

"I barely know the guy," he says.

Robin snorts as she crouches, stocking extra hand sanitizers in the tiny drawers at the bottom of the shelf. "Yeah, but I know you, dingus," she says, her voice light and bouncing. "You hear the guy's muzak version of a Lil Nas X song and you're ready to marry the guy."

"I can just recognize artistic ability! Have you ever tried to make a pop song sound like a classic?" he asks.

"My point," Robin says, pushing some hair out of her face, "is that you should ask him out. Maybe you two can play piano together."

If she hadn't already heard it before, Steve would be immediately launching into an explanation of why that wouldn't work. Steve has never met someone he liked or trusted enough to actually play with them. Sure, he's tried playing with a partner before if only to say he gave it a shot, but it sucks. Especially when you don't like the person. You're squished together on an uncomfortable bench, sharing sheet music, elbows bumping as you both try to reach the proper keys to keep the song from sounding horrendous. It's Steve's personal version of hell on earth.

But Robin has heard that rant before, so Steve graciously spares her from hearing it again. For now. Until he's drunk, probably.

"What, I'm just gonna waltz up to the piano and ask if he's free on Saturday? Or, I don't know, try some dumb pick-up line like asking if he comes here often?"

"I'll be honest, it's not the worst pick-up line I've heard."

Steve and Robin jump, both whipping their head to look at the grate to see the food court pianist grinning at them (well, more specifically, he's grinning at Steve) from the other side. He's wearing a button-down black shirt with ripped skinny jeans, old Converse, and more accessories than Steve can count. There are chains on his jeans and a guitar pick hanging from his neck and an ear cuff and a stud through the edge of his eyebrow and so many chunky rings that Steve could use as an excuse to stare at his hands for an hour.

Robin is the one who breaks out of the shock first. She jumps to her feet and walks over to Steve, resting her arm on his shoulder and leaning against him. "But would it work?" she asks.

The guy grins wider, obviously looking Steve up and down to check him out before looking at Robin. "From Stevie here? Yeah. He's really rocking the apron," Eddie replies, winking at Steve.

Steve is about to ask how the guy knows his name, but then he remembers the name badge on his apron. He clears his throat, tearing his eyes away to glance down at Robin.

She seems to be having the time of her life right now.

"Well, uh, I'd prefer to know your name before trying any pickup lines," he says.

"Eddie Munson at your service," Eddie says, bowing to Steve with a dramatic flourish that he finds more endearing than anything else.

One look at Robin and her scrunched nose tells him she thinks it's a little over-the-top and, dare he say, cringe. Her opinion doesn't actually matter, though, since she'd be down bad for any girl that curtseyed at her.

Steve looks back at Eddie, noting the now expectant gleam in his eyes. He can't help an amused smile as he says, "Well then, Eddie," Steve says, stressing his name a little just for the fun of it, "come here often?"

Robin groans next to him. "Fucking hell, Steve," she mutters, slapping him upside the head. "I know you suck at flirting but you really couldn't come up with something better?"

"No, no," Eddie tells her, waving his hand dismissively. "I'm into it."

"And I'm out of it," Robin says, raising her hands in surrender before scurrying back to her Cherry Blossom products.

She's definitely still listening, though.

Steve rolls his eyes are her reaction and focuses back on Eddie. "So, uh, are you free on Saturday?" he asks.

"Completely free," Eddie says, taking a step closer to the gate and shoving his hands into his pockets. "How about lunch?"

"Yeah, I know a great pizza place."

"It's a date then," Eddie replies, winking at Steve. "By the way, any song requests?"

Steve blinks and thinks for a minute before asking, "Do you know Vienna?"

Eddie's grin tells Steve that he does, in fact, know Vienna. "Vienna it is." With that, he winks at Steve once more before heading back to the food court.

"That was painful," Robin says once he's far away enough.

Steve rolls his eyes and flips her off. "You're just jealous I've got a date and you're still too chicken shit to approach the Nike girl."

Robin practically squawks at him. "Oh, fuck you," she says.

"I'll leave that to Eddie, thanks," Steve says, laughing when Robin gags.

[penvisions]

of beskar and kyber {chapter 18}

Pairing: Din Djarin x Force Sensitive! Reader (the Mandalorian x Force Sensitive! Reader) ; brief Force Sensitive! Reader and M!OC

Summary: There are restrictions for entering the main city, some of them Din could agree to and one he absolutely could not. His helmet would need to be left behind, but isn't removing it what caused this entire situation to begin with? Meanwhile, you wake to a new environment, cautious of the things around you and the words of your mother.

Word Count: 10.5k

Warnings: canon typical violence, canon typical language, we meet readers betrothed and he needs his own warning, reader's mother also gets her own warning, kidnapping, reader is being kept against her will, hostage situation, use of narcotics, use of drugs, sedatives, self-depreciating thoughts, thoughts of self-harm, ptsd symptoms, medical trauma, past medical trauma, feelings of inadequacy, sexual themes, sexual content (not detailed), there are a few more but they will spoil the chapter!

A/N: more din pov! because it's so much fun and there are some things y'all need to see through his eyes before some explanations are given c;

all of you were right to think din is gonna need a disguise! but i don't want anyone to think that the desert environment and the choice of clothing is ignorant on my part in light of what is going on in palestine. i've had this original arc planned before the first chapter was even published. here are some resources for aiding those that need help. i've also provided a link to the moodboard for this particular arc, which does include a visual for din's new attire

ao3 link || series masterlist || main masterlist || ko-fi

Maker, your mother was really doing her best to keep you to herself. It was smart to warn the protection around you of him, to anticipate that he would make an attempt to take you back. But he loathed how much harder it was going to make even just getting into the city.

The weapons he could forgo, but his armor? She knew from her past experience with Akiz that it was a punishable offense for a Mandalorian to remove their helmet. And it was frustrating that she was using his religion, his Creed, his culture, his way of life to keep him at bay and to keep you under her control.

It was an injustice he couldn’t wrap his head around. It was just so conniving, and it was hard to believe how you had turned out so drastically different when being surrounded by someone capable of such extremes. He only hoped that your mother hadn’t done anything drastic to you, caused you to take matters into your own hands. He only hoped that you knew he had spent the last several weeks tearing through the galaxy in search for signs of what had happened to you. That he had rushed toward the planet you were taken to the second he had found it out.

Din needed you to know that he was trying, that he was searching for you, that he missed your presence by his side and aboard his ship. And not simply for the fact that you were a strong, capable fighter. But because the things he had whispered and promised you before he ruined it all were true. He did care for you. He had begun to care for you alarmingly fast after that first encounter.

And maybe it should’ve scared him, been a warning he heeded, the way his heart had lightened and opened up to you. Even despite the circumstances and the breaking of his contract with the Guild. He had been willing to change the circumstances, to do away with the contract he took on when his fingers closed around your offered tracking fob. Because it had felt right to do so, despite the inherent break of what he stood for in that moment. His willingness to do so, it only made him realize that this was real, because he had never felt like this with anyone before. Had never wanted to provide for anyone aside from those that made up his covert before. He had meant it when he had choked out those words back on Nevarro.

“I can’t wear that.” Din had been cautious as he looked out the cockpit viewpoint and down into the hangar space. The looming racetrack just beyond it, offset from the main city. Crowds and clusters of people swathed in billowing layers and a severe lack of weaponry was a worrisome observation. Upon her return from the markets, offset from the other side of the city, Cara had held out a bundle of clothing to him.

“I did enough recon to know the guards are the only people permitted into the palace without verification. That Sarad’s always surrounded by at least two of them when outside of the palace, though her mother never joins her outside the walls.”

“Because she knows I’d kill her on sight.” Din can’t help the growl of his words, knowing the truth behind them was all too real. Because he would, without hesitation, take out the threat that had presented itself after lying in wait. Striking at the most opportune moment even months after having first contracted your return to her when it seemed like it was fruitless.

“This the only way you’ll get close enough to her, by blending in.” Cara shimmied the bundle at him, wanting him to take it from her despite his trepidation.

“My face will be exposed.” He argued as he stepped away from her. His mind and thoughts at war with the notion of having to remove his armor and the one of doing it in order to save you. He picked up a grumbling ad’ika from where he had been settled in his pod. Taking a pack of dried jerky from the pouch attached to his belt and handed it to him. Happy coos filled the hull of the ship, Din helping to reach into the pouch for each piece the child devoured.

“They wear head coverings and cover their faces. More than a third of the people I saw. Both men and women. I know it’s not ideal, Din,” Cara risked using the man’s real name. Wanting him to hear her and believe that this was the best way, the only way to move about with having to worry about being stopped or appearing suspicious. Hoping to convince him it was the best scenario to avoid showing his whole face should he have to forgo his helmet. She didn’t seem too keen on having to don similar clothing that left little room to conceal a weapon. “Some have mesh over their eyes.”

Din reached out, taking the outfit from her. He would try it on, get a sense of how he felt in the clothing before making his decision. He had half a mind to fly the ship directly into the palace grounds and open fire until you were safely back in his arms. But realistically he knew that was a terrible plan. The man who you had been promised to was entrenched in the New Republic, someone of high standing and to attack him would bring on a whole new level of concerns into his life, into your life.

Setting ad’ika back down into the pod, Din tucked your cloak around him before making his way to the room.

What use was all his armor and weapons if he couldn’t keep you safe? The thought was sharp in his mind as he set about removing each plate, the clasps snapping in the silence of the ship. He stored them in a crate he had brought from his own ship. In it was the pair of pauldrons you had left behind. The armor settled together tugged at his heart, making his chest tights as he wished for you nestled beside him in his bed much like the beskar in the crate. Closing it and setting a lock on it, he already missed the feel of his vambraces, of the weapons hidden over his frame.

Despite being alone, he kept the cowl about his neck in place. The necklace of his people hidden beneath it and he wondered where the one he had gifted you ended up. The ship foreign to him, giving him pause in removing it as he looked over the robes Cara had collected for him. They were all black. Made of a light, flowing material that would cover his entire body. And he began to pull the wide legged pants over his legs.

The top was less a shirt and more of a tunic, cut shorter in the front to fall just below his waist. It offered coverage of his crotch, while the length billowed out down to his knees on either side. He wondered if he should chance donning the chainmail he had retrieved from your home on Tatooine underneath it. He felt exposed, too vulnerable even as he set about fastening the brown leather harness to cross over his chest from his shoulders and the belt that had an empty pouch fastened to it on his left.

Two arm braces made of bronze had been folded up in the clothing, and he slid those over his forearms, grateful for at least something similar.

Thankfully Cara had been able to find something that would allow him to cover his face- mostly. His eyes would be exposed, and he wouldn’t be entirely comfortable forgoing a visor or something similar to hide them behind.

But he set about containing his trimmed curls underneath the cover, wrapping it around twice before securing it with a black leather tie around his forehead, letting the rest of the fabric fall over the back of his neck and shoulders. The smaller black kerchief was secured over the cowl, adding another layer to hide his identity from the world, fastened behind his head and tucked into the leather keeping the head cover in place.

It would be harder for him to track you, to pick up on threats without the settings of the helmet, but he knew that it would immediately warrant attention. He had to leave it behind, depart from the ship without it. It was the only way he would be able to do his own reconnaissance.

Sighing, he turned to face the mirror set into the wall beside the door.

He didn’t recognize the man staring back at him. He was swathed in flowing black from the top of his head down to the tips of his toes. His boots no longer weighed down with a hidden blade or the ring of bullet casings for his pulse rifle.

Sharp brown eyes set under thick, dark brows the only visible part.

Still far too much to be seen. To be witnessed so easily by those around him. By you.

Worry spiked in him, you wouldn’t know it was him. At least, not at first glance. He hoped you would feel a pull to him similar to the one he felt when around you. A comfort in the closeness of your body and presence. A familiarity and sense of connection, the things you had found in each other allowing you to recognize that it was him beneath the different clothing, what was always beneath the armor and helmet.

Self-consciousness, he realized, was the feeling making his stomach flutter and his nerves jittery. He hadn’t been outside of the ship and around people without his armor since he had been inducted into the training corps. He hadn’t been without his helmet since swearing the Creed. The thought of this breeching such a commitment crosses his mind. And while…yes, he had removed his helmet, his face was still concealed.

It was much like the unspoken loophole of removing it in the cover of darkness. The intention of which would have allowed him to give into your pleas for his lips on yours. That he had wanted to do, despite the skimming of lines that should not be crossed. The lines that defined his Creed.

He looked…like one of the natives of the planet. And that was the only consolation he could find in the need for the outfit.

They’re merely walking through the marketplace, when they see you among the stalls. Din’s instincts urging him to turn onto the street.

You’re right there.

You’re real.

You’re okay.

His heart skips a beat and then quickens, nearly vibrating it’s so fast a pitch. His breath stolen from his lungs as he sees you moving among the crowds. You…you’re so beautiful and luck seems to be on his side as you look unharmed. You seem to be at ease, moving from stall to stall with a pair of guards trailing behind you by a few yards. Black flowing robes much like his own, but the rapier style swords fastened to their sides acted as a silent threat. Weapons in the main part of the city were forbidden.

But you…you were so magnetizing, and Din’s feet were carrying him toward the stall you had stopped in front of. Distantly, he heard the hush of Cara warning him to be cautious. But it was as if the world had shrunk down to just you, his eyes tracking you as if you would vanish should he look away for the barest of seconds.

The fabric of your rather elegant dress a mix of soft white and pale cream. It highlighted the natural golden hue of your skin, though the only part visible was the length of your neck down to your chest with a rather low neckline. The supple skin of your breasts was accented by sparkling golden beading along the collar, creating a dip between them where it was concentrated. The bodice of the dress was cinched by an intricate belt made up of diamond jewels set into gold that created a floral shape right over your stomach before the skirt of the dress billowed out in flowing layers.

The sleeves were long, bishop in style, allowing for the fabric to be loose before cinching around your wrists. Allowing for you strong, capable hands to be exposed. Golden designs of lace woven into the fabric of them and the front of you below where the belt rested on your front. You were sparkling, from the bangles around your wrists to the delicate headpiece that kept your hair away from your face. He could see it as you moved about to take in the fruits of the stall, the way that thin netting was laid over the length of your hair, stones glittering in the sun as you did so. You were a vision bathed in white and gold, his brain short circuiting at the sight of you after so long apart.

But you didn’t look to be a captive, aside from the guards keeping close. No, you looked like you were free of worries, complicit in the life you had been stolen away to be a part of. It was as if this was just another day to run errands and take in the sights of the city, no undertones of eyes glancing around to look for an escape. No tension in your muscles as if poised to run at the first chance. And alarm bells sounded in Din’s mind, loud and harsh. Stirring unease in his middle, bubbling up to tighten in his chest.

He couldn’t help but approach you, even if he had no clue what words to breathe should he be able to find his voice. Even if he had no clue how you would react to seeing him after the emotional fallout from so many days ago. But when you turned to him with a smile, lips closed and eyes kind, they only flitted over his face before they moved down along his body toward where ad’ika had popped his head and chest over the top of the bag slung over his shoulder.

He certainly hadn’t expected you to recognize him, he was without his armor. And though you knew the shape of his body and the way it reacted to your touch; you didn’t know him as he stood beside you now. In flowing black robes and brown leather, a head cover secure over his curls and a flowing material hiding his face aside from his eyes. He realized you wouldn’t be able to recognize them, having never seen the brown of them before. And he greedily drunk in the sight of you without his helmet, delighting in the way the sun lit up the features he had come to admire.

But your attention wasn’t even on him, it was on the small form that had reached out for the bundle of berries in your grip. Plucking one and popping it in his mouth with a satisfied hum. But there was no recognition that flickered over your face upon seeing ad’ika either. It was as if you were seeing him for the first time, a polite curiosity in your gaze. And Din’s gut lurched.

It hadn’t been long enough for you to forget the child, forget him. Forget the life the three of you had carved out from circumstance. Unless you were playing along to not alert the guards of being reunited, not wanting them to suspect anything was amiss. But…but Din didn’t think you were pretending. There had been no fast glance back to him upon seeing the child crop up, there had been no hitch of your breath as realization of him standing beside you set in.

It was as if you didn’t know him at all, know the small form of the child holding your adoring attention.

“Well, hello there, little one.” Your voice was so smooth and calming, like silk against his ears after having not heard it in so many days. He watched as you tilted the bowl closer, making it easier for a tiny green claw to retrieve another berry. A laugh bubbled from you as the child smacked on the fruit, happy sounds flowing from him unbidden.

And then, with a simple question, Din’s heart shattered.

“He’s rather cute, is this your child?”

You had focused your attention back up to him, though you avoided his eyes again. Something he was beginning to think was just a part of every version of you. Because the one standing in front of him was not his own. It couldn’t be.

Words, so many of them, burst to life and died on his tongue in the silence between you two. None of them making it past his lips, his voice lost in injustice of finally being reunited with you and you having no clue as to who he was. Of how much you had been through together, the promises you had whispered to each other, the soft sighs of waking up together, the harsh grunts and desperate whimpers shared between yearning bodies. You had no clue what you meant to him. The only thing he was certain of, was that he was a stranger to you.

Clearing his throat, he managed to utter an affirmative to your gentle question.

“I’ve never seen any like him before, he seems like the sweetest thing.”

And he wanted to tell you that you allowed for him to be so, for the child to have the protection of your skills and caring heart to be just a child after being held a captive for so long. That he had stolen him away from those who wished him harm with your aid. But suddenly, you were being approached by the vendor, your attention splitting from them both beside you.

“Ma’am, you’ll have to pay for- oh, Princess Cala. I’m so sorry.” Strict words and steal façade falling as the man approaching realized who you were. Princess. Because that’s what you were, had been swiped from him to be another’s wife. All memories of your commitment to him forgotten in a cruel twist of fate that Din was determined to get to the bottom of. To rectify. Though he had no clue how to even begin such a daunting task as he was still struggling to accept that it was so. “I was unaware you were in the markets today. Please, take whatever you wish. I will send for payment from Sir Cala at the end of the day.”

“Oh, that’s quite alright.” You appeased gently, hands digging into a small pouch hidden among the layers of your dress. Credits clinked as you set them down atop the table, the jingling of your bracelets catching ad’ika’s attention and he reached for them. “It’s just a little snack today, nothing too crazy.”

As the vendor turned back to duck inside, away from the bright sun and the watching eyes of the guards, it happened.

Ad’ika’s skin connected with your own and you were buckling at the sudden energy that Din could feel flow between you both. Ripples of is cascading through the air. Body overwhelmed and knees weakening at the onslaught as a strangled gasp fell from your lips. Just as you had done back at the compound, history repeating itself in a way he hadn’t expected. He was quick to close the distance, to wrap his arms around you and hold you up. You allowed him to pull you close, your chest flush with his as heaving breaths matched his stuttering ones.

His body igniting at the feel of you against him once again. Of the way your hands gripped his arms to support yourself. The prick of your fingers digging into his muscles and the way your mouth had fallen open in surprise. It was all so normal, the reactions of your body against his. Natural, the magnetism between your bodies making everything feel alright even if it was just for the barest second.

“I’ve got you, mesh’la. Are you alright?” Voice low, he felt it robbed from him when your lashes fluttered, and your eyes met for the first time.  They glinted with something and then –

“Unhand the princess, no one is to touch her!” Twin forms of the guards watching over you were suddenly closing in. It took every ounce of strength he possessed to not take all your weight securely into his arms and run. Hush of swords being pulled from their sheaths had you tearing your eyes away from him, had you shifting your footing to hold yourself up a little better though you didn’t let go of him. And he was grateful for the prolonged seconds of getting to feel you in his arms.

“It’s alright!” You assured the guards, halting them in their steps with a polite smile. “I just tripped is all!”

Loosening the hold he had on you, his hands remained steady as you stepped back from him to stand on your own once again. He was aware of the hard looks aimed at him, as distance bloomed between your bodies.

Endlessly considerate and caring toward the ad’ika, even if you didn’t know it, you carefully handed the bushel of berries into his small claws.

You were bidding him goodbye with an impersonal bow. And he wished to feel the unspoken greeting and departing habit of your forehead nudged against his own you two had established over the course of your time together.

He fell in line behind them, a safe distance away to not attract their attention or suspicions. His focus so completely on you, the captivation you held over him even now, especially now, spelling his feet forward through the last of the market and through the streets. He was silent as Cara fell into step beside him, questions flowing from her that fell on his straining ears. You were talking with the guards, though it seemed like you were merely confirming the rest of the plans for the day.

And they would know, they would be by your side every time you left the palace, he mused as he watched your trio wait outside of the large wooden doors that led into the place you now called home. It was surrounded by a large, easily fifteen-foot wall made up of decorative tiles and white stone. He caught a glimpse of large gardens, complete with bright blue ponds and lush plant life making a beautiful backdrop to your form. But his eyes snapped back to you, taking notice of how the guards had begun to walk away and toward a small building that must act as their command center. They were replaced by two young women, dressed in long pale blue layers that followed your every step.

As you began to move along the paths lined throughout the garden, a figure approached you. And the tension Din had been worried to not see in your shoulders seemed to slam into you. The figure moved from beneath the shade of a large palm, having been waiting on a bench. It was a woman, one who bore a strong resemblance to you from tone of skin to the color of your eyes. Your mother.

Arms were slung together and Din could see even with the distance how her touch made you uncomfortable. And it was all so confusing. You remembered your mother, memories of her intact but you had somehow forgotten who he was, who ad’ika was. Forgotten who you were enough to not make an attempt to escape, submitting yourself to the life your mother had created for you.

And then, a man in elaborate robes adorned with jewels and lace designs much like your own approached you both. He was dressed in colors that complimented your own clothing. His own jewelry fastened over his head cover much like yours, though decidedly heavier, more masculine to the dainty feminine of yours. Matching.

A hand came over his shoulder as he realized he was breathing harshly, no helmet to disguise the deep push and pull of it as he watched you disentangle from your mother and step into the man’s personal space. The front of your bodies touching together as his hands splayed wide on your shoulders, as your own wrapped around his neck. As you perked up to press your forehead to his, in the way that was Din’s.

His chest hurt, his hands clenched, body alight with the need to rush forward and tear the two of you apart from each other. His ears hurt with the silence pressing against them too firm to shake. To press his own forehead against your own and plead with you to see him, to remember him. Remember what you meant to each other.

It was a small blessing of the Maker that your back was to him, because he didn’t think he would be able to take the way your gaze had softened as you looked into the eyes of the man holding you. The same one he would find aimed at him throughout the day, mirth in your eyes as your lips pulled into a soft smile. Adoration and admiration soothing the concentrated look you normally held. Not when the man looking back at you held the same exact expression.

The one always hidden behind his visor.

The same face that was now hardened in a flurry of emotions, his jaw clenched tight, teeth grinding, and eyes ablaze as he watched the man dip his face and press his lips to yours in a kiss.

A kiss.

The very thing that had unraveled the entire life you two had created out of circumstance and connection, the very thing you now shared with another.

Your easy laughter was what brought his senses back, though it was cut off from him as quickly as it had been delivered as you began to walk hand in hand with the man down the path leading to the palace entrance.

Din’s mind was working, working, working. Trying to figure it out, trying to come up it a way to figure it out. To rectify it. To make it right. To make everything right.

And as if a chip was falling into place, he realized. They could fall into line as a guard and a handmaiden.

It was so obvious, so easy, the plan coming together in his mind as the wooden doors swung shut and stole you away from his watching gaze.

“Mando…” Cara’s voice was gentle, as if she was worried she would startle him. Spur him into movement toward you, tackling the obstacles that stood between you both despite the consequences. “I don’t know exactly what-“

“We’ll talk back at the ship.” His words were rough, voice rumbling as if he had just swallowed gravel. It felt thick in his throat, coating his tongue and making it hard to speak.

“It’s customary for visitors to stay in the tourism sector.”

“I’m…low on credits.” He admitted, aware that his words were carried on deep exhales, air hard and solid when breathed in. Aching, hurting, stinging in his throat as he closed his eyes to rid himself of the image of you embraced so intimately with that man, with your husband. But the image was burned into the backs of his eyelids, pressing on him even as he clenched them shut.

“Good thing I’m not. Let’s go, I have a feeling you’re going to tell me this isn’t going to be as simple as sneaking in at night and whisking her away.”

Din followed the woman’s lead through the city, through the gates and toward the collection of tourism amenities. The sounds of the ocean waves getting louder the further they moved away from the palace.

The suite was grand, decorated lavishly in soft earth tones. Bright jewel tones accenting it all around.

But Din’s eyes were unfocused, unseeing as they stared down at the carpet, his head in his hands as he sat rigidly on the couch. With a deep breath pulled in and then let out, he deflated. Chest tight like he was being retrained with ropes, his limbs tingling as if the blood was having trouble flowing through them. His nerves felt both numb and overwhelmed all at the same time.

Cara just paced around the room, searching for potential bugs while she ensured ad’ika was settled in a chair with the fruit you had bought for them in a bowl for him to occupy himself. Din’s voice returned to him when he felt the couch shift with her weight on the other side.

“She doesn’t know who I am.”

“I wouldn’t recognize you, Mando, it’s just the clothes. I’m sure she was just pretending to be clueless to avoid suspicion. She saw ad’ika and even got him those berries.”

“No. Cara.” He surged up, feeling the need to move. To be on his feet, his mind hurling endless self-depreciating thoughts. This was all his fault, you were in the arms of another man because of him, your mother had been able to snatch you away because of his carelessness. His lack of speed when chasing after you, his lack of ability to have tracked you down and bring you back to the Crest as quickly as possible. He had failed you, he had failed you beyond comprehension and you didn’t even remember it.

He meant nothing to you, he was a stranger to you. While you willingly lived alongside that man who had every intention of letting you know how much he wanted you, desired you, who kriffing kissed you.

Aware of her eyes on him, Din paced back and forth in front of the couch. Feeling the need to move, to run, to chase, to track, to fix. She was watching him, a conflicted look about her features as she thought over the things they witnessed. The blatant issues that they had to move around in order to get to you.

Maker, what if…what if you shared the man’s bed. That would add another layer of complication to breaking you free of your imprisonment. Was it even imprisonment anymore? Did it qualify if you didn’t know the people who surrounded you were the ones who had manipulated you so completely, so intricately that they had somehow wiped your memory and fed you a story of what they wanted their lives to be in order to make it a reality?

Even if he could manage to convince you that you weren’t meant to be a dank ferrick princess in a palace, how would he prove to you that you were meant to be with him? His ship was old, needed repairs too often, his way of life, it all paled in comparison to the residence you had now, the quality of life you had now. How was he supposed to make you understand that he cared about you and that you cared about him if you didn’t know who he was?

Your mother certainly knew what she was doing. From the wiping of your memory to make it harder for him to convince you that your life was a sham, a lie, a false thing made up by those around you to the warning posters of him plastered around the city. The version of you he knew was wary of strangers and he would bet everything in his name that you still held that reservation. That anything he or Cara had to say wouldn’t be taken lightly, most likely result in their immediate order of removal should you find them guilty of trying to manipulate you.

“She doesn’t remember me. Or ad’ika. Her mother must’ve done something to her. There was no recognition in her eyes.” Heart thudding hard in his aching chest, Din couldn’t stop the sob that wracked through him. “I’m nothing to her.”

Darkness and the pull of the cold feeling drumming through your veins lightening ever so slightly as you begin to rouse, body limp and not heeding your commands to move. Alone. You’re alone. Metal clinking and heavy around your wrists and ankles. Around your neck.

You’re shackled, restrained, drugged.

Like so many times before, like you had never wanted to be again.

It’s quiet, unnervingly so.

Opening your eyes doesn’t allow you more of the setting you’re in, only darkness of the room you’re hidden away in. Gravity lurches and you know, can sense it: that you’re aboard a ship that has just taken off into the air. Traveling and distance growing, taking you away from them. From him.

Had he even realized you were gone? That you had been seeking solace, a way to return to him without shame prickling your skin and guilt flooding you, body tight and mind remorseful.

Everything was a haze. Everything jumbled up into a messy recollection. The pleasure that had been igniting you, the feel of his fingers deep and hitting that spot just right, building you up and tearing down your inhibitions. Enough so that you had pleaded with him for the one thing you knew he wouldn’t give you. And then it was gone, shifting to rejection. The blank, emotionless helmet shielding the way he must’ve been so repulsed by your question, your desperation to have more of him when he had already given you so much. Needy, selfish, you had been so wrapped up in him that you had offended him beyond words. Warped the path you two had been traveling together, guiding him without realizing it, off the distinguished trail and into the unknown. To the forbidden. Toward sin.

You had tried to convince him to break his Creed.

Heart heavy and mind trying to piece everything back together, you convulsed. Shocks ripping through you at the sudden movement.

Whimpering, you felt it was more than deserved. This punishment, being forced to submit once again at the hands of your mother. All of it was because of the temptation you had dared to whisper to a man so devoted. He would’ve lost everything had he followed you into it. From the very identity of himself to the new standing of a clan he had just been granted. All gone.

And for what? A measly kiss with someone who didn’t even know how to want without asking for too much. A shared mingling of breath and teeth and tongue with someone who should’ve been long dead for their own sins.

Brightness burst into the room, assaulting your senses as footsteps shuffled close.

The prick of a needle sharp, the swoop of your nerves being calmed and then raised to tingling heights.

A gentle caress of a hand on your cheek and the last thought you had before you were pulled back into the darkness heart more than anything your mother could do to you:

He hadn’t come after you. He had let you walk away.

We can’t…I-I don’t...

Through the hull and off the ship, let you slip into the crowd where he hoped you would disappear from his sight. Vanish from his life and taking the sins you had tempted him with.

Compliant. You would be compliant this time around. Now knowing that there was nothing else for you, the entire galaxy making a mockery of your attempt at finding a life other than this. The blood of so many on your hands and cleaned off the hilt of your saber, the reason as to why you didn’t deserve happiness or comfortability. That you hadn’t deserved him.

And it hurt. More than the throbbing high spurred on by the drugs in your system. More than the memories of everything you had ever known being ripped from your desperate hands, not once but twice. The thought of him simply sat on that cot still, slowly dressing, gathering the things you had left behind and shoving them in a crate to never be opened again, hurt. The thought of him climbing toward the cockpit and bringing the ship to life, of guiding it up into the air and leaving the planet behind, leaving you behind, hurt. It was devastating.

Because you knew, you know he would’ve come to your aid if he had known what had happened. That you had been on your way back to the ship with an apology on your tongue when you had been ambushed. You know he would’ve protected you, even if he didn’t want you. Out of some sort of personal obligation, out of the empty commitment he had made to you that now felt like a ploy to get you into his bed.

He had known your past, seen the evidence of it in your words and nightmares. He had known to how use it to his advantage, to whisper sweet nothings and notions of care beyond what you could provide him with your body to get exactly that. He had known to not pressure you, to let you come to him and he would get what he wanted all along. The same as every man, only seeing you as a body to warm your bed.

But…he wasn’t. He couldn’t be.

Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum. I love you.

He had said it first, as he bled out on that dirty cantina floor as the building crumbled around you both.

Anything spoken by a man of few words had to mean something. Had to be genuine. Had to be real.

And that hurt far worse, that he cared and had still let you walk away. Disappear into the crowd of the planet, only to be taken hostage and away from him. That he had let it happen.

The confusing and painful thoughts circling around in your sluggish mind were cut short, turned to smoke that wafted away when the metallic clang of what had to the locking mechanism on the door to where you were being kept. Artificial light filtered into the room, blinding you as your eyes tried to adjust to the sudden shift from near blinding darkness. A soft voice was speaking to you, thought you couldn’t make out the words. Brain scrambled and too loaded up to understand.

It was astonishing, really, even through the haze, that your mother’s hands were gentle on you despite the things she subjected you to. Comforting caresses and fingers moving your hair and clothing in ways to avoid pinching or pain as she removed the shackles and began to untangle you from the chains that had wrapped around you. It felt like a loss, to no longer have them pressing into your skin, no longer holding you up as your head rolled on hard to hold up neck.

“Oh oh oh, it’s okay, sweetie, I’ve got you.” Your mother’s voice was syrupy sweet, coating you in its allure. The only thing you truly knew was real in this moment of time. Her hands helped you up on weak legs, arms going around your waist to hold you to her, support most of your weight. “We’re home, my darling. I think it’s gonna treat us well, this time around.”

Confusion colored your senses and prompted a warbled sound to fall from your lips as she led you to the fresher. She helped to disrobe you, carefully peeling the clothing from your scuffed and sweaty skin. The weight of your hair being let loose from its braided updo stirred the beginnings of a headache. Trying to establish itself even in the presence of the drugs thrumming through your veins.

She washed you free of the sweat and grime that had built up on your skin in the time it had taken to guide your sluggish and unaware form onto a ship for travel.

Hands that didn’t feel like her own filled your senses. Larger than hers, rougher than hers, more intentional than hers. The feeling being washed away along with the suds and bubbles down the drain as you felt the prick of something in your neck and everything became fuzzy.

Things slowly returned to you as you felt the hum weighted over you lighten. Gravity shifted and a feeling of foreboding bubbled up in your stomach, prickling the instincts compressed inside your mind until they could do nothing but trigger ever so slightly. The hush of the door opening had you shifting atop the bedding, looking toward it to see the shadow of your mother approaching you with a cloak.

But it wasn’t yours, because the one you had been gifted, the one with the beautiful floral clasps to keep it closed, had been left behind in your haste. Haste to run from the feelings of inadequacy and heartbreak that threatened to overwhelm you even if you couldn’t piece together the specifics. Too overcome with the things your mother pressed into your veins to have you sluggish and heeding her commands.

The flash of a shiny reflection of sunlight against the metal of a sword stirred something in you as you walked alongside her. She was supporting most of your weight, guiding you along down the ramp of the ship and you paused at the sight before you. Blinking, ensuring that the image wouldn’t melt away and that it was real, you couldn’t believe your eyes.

A garden. Lush and green, was stretched out before a grand palace of white and sandy stone. Pillars and domes accent the different parts of grand sight. It was magnificent and entirely too complicated for you to be able to find a way to escape once within the walls. Guards cloaked in black were stationed at the main entrance and along entryways within the halls. Women in rich jewel tones scattered about the palace as your mother guided you through it, being led herself by a man who held an air of authority about himself.

Your heart beating fast, dizzyingly fast and your breath becomes labored, pitchy. It garners the attention of your mother, the shift from quiet to increasing panic as your led further into the maze of halls and buildings. She holds the control to the shackles about your wrists and ankles in her hand, waving it at you to quell the twitching of your muscles as you tried to resist running, of harnessing the Force to send everyone around you flying through the wide hallway. The silent threat of the electricity sparking through your synapses paired with the way the world didn’t feel quite right, everything off kilter and slightly blurry, fuzzy all around you had you obeying her without a word.

She commanded the people around you both as you were ushered through a door into a sterile room, medical equipment and first aid supplies collected in a large cabinet. The medical center, you guessed through the haze and worry spiked through you. What was she going to have them do to you?

With soft words, she urged you to lay down atop one of the cots. Smoothing your hair away from your face with gentle hands as the prick of a needle startled you. An attendant, a man dressed in dark red billowing layers, had stuck you with a syringe.

Before you could form your lips around a question, a plea, the edges of your vision blurred. Within seconds, the room was spinning and your eyes fluttered shut. The last thing you thought of before being pulled under the influence of the sedative was a plea for Din and ad’ika to be safe, wherever they may be.

“Alright,” Your mother chirped once you had fallen unconscious. The man in red regarded her with a blank expression, knowing that he was here for one reason and one reason only. Being paid generously for the use of his skills and the machinery that he possessed. He was one of the few who had been sought out by the New Republic to recalibrate and repurpose something used by the Empire that would prove useful for them as well.

Rumors of such a machine were whispered across the galaxy, most believing them to have been destroyed. But they would be wrong, they were very prevalent in the reformation and reintroduction of the Empire’s countless forces back into the general population. To break the spell of indoctrination imposed on them with low force electric vibrations. The Six-O-Two Mitigator, otherwise known as a Mind Flayer. Curtesy of the royal families firm standing within the New Republic and their generous donations to help fund their endeavors.

“Is it ready?”

“Yes, it’s been calibrated to perform at a higher voltage to achieve what you’ve requested.” He spoke as he watched two attending medics wheel the cot you were laid upon toward the doorway that lead into another room. He followed them, with a wave of his arm to allow for your mother to proceed him. She did so with a dip of her head.

“I’m sure you know how to oblige what is being requested of you. From me and from the Prince. We will settle for nothing less.”

“I do, you want me to target the memory glands.”

“Yes, eradicate anything that sparks in response to the Mandalorians and the Jedi. Warp them if you have to.”

“I will do my best, it may take multiple sessions.”

“That’s quite alright, we are here now. We have the time.”

Something was wrong. Something was missing.

And your head was pounding, a dull pain throbbing at your crown and moving down, down, down to coat your entire body. Groaning, you realized you were laying in a large, plush bed. Pillows and soft blankets surrounding you, having allowed you the comfort to sleep deeply. Deep enough that you couldn’t recall the location of where you were.

The room is beautiful, all pale, soft tones that match the way you had always wanted to decorate your own home one day. But it was a lost thought, something that would never come to fruition. A personal home that you would never have, a home that you would never share, because the people that you love no longer exist to you, faded into blips you can’t recall. But there was one shadow that you could sense in the back of your mind. And it was making you worry about the way you couldn’t fill it. The underlying feeling of something wrong settling low in your gut.

The room is completely foreign as is the scene of a desert city surrounded by large, formidable walls of stone. You now stood on the balcony, having crossed the spacious interior decorated with tapestries and thin beaded curtains to take a look outside. Your body protested the movements, sluggish to respond to your need to figure out where you were.

The door creaked open, a pair of young women with a tray froze as they say you out on the balcony.

And then, a familiar figure shouldered past them with a wide smile.

“Mother?”

“Yes, my sweetheart, how are you feeling?” She was across the room, her arm over your shoulder as she guided you to take a seat in one of two chairs that surrounded a small, low table. Across from them, on the other side, a long, curved couch that looked to be velvet stretched out.

“I feel okay, I’m just a little confused. When did we move….here?” You felt like something was missing still, aside from the curiosity of the foreign environment. You were looking around the room, trying to nudge that vague shadow of whatever it was into a more concrete form. And then it did, the shadow took the form of a man and your heart skipped a beat. “Is he okay?”

“Who, honey?”

“Um…the man I’ve been traveling with. He- he was injured, his…his head!” You felt panic ripple over you, very real and so overwhelming. You had been traveling with someone, that much you knew. But the name, the specifics of him weren’t coming to you. But it felt so real, the phantom feel of the man who you had been with, you carried him with you, and you needed to know if he was okay.

“Honey, he wasn’t the one that fell. You were.”

“Where is he?” Her words didn’t shake the panic settling into your bones. A memory of kneeling in front of an injured man, cradling his face in your hands as he lay before you flashed in your mind’s eye. The feeling of heat washing over you, as if trying to consume you.

“He’s a very busy man, he was going to visit this afternoon.” You mother tried to console you, moving to sit on the arm of your chair and reaching out to cusp a hand over your shoulder.

“I need to see him now!” You stood, anger spiking. Lungs aching for air, for the vision of the man whose touch was ghosting over your skin, whispers of promises and comfort filling your ears. All coming back as the shadow in your mind grew larger and larger, taking space and becoming all consuming,

“Alright, honey, hold-“ She caught your hand as you walked past her, set on searching for him. Needing to see him, to ensure that he was okay. The feeling of warm blood thick on your hands.

“That’s quite alright, Lena.” A deep voice spoke from the open doorway and you felt your knees buckle as you looked over toward it. The tall figure of a broad man was standing there, dressed in orange and gold. He had dark, thick hair on the top of his head and decorating his face. He looked healthy and relief replaced the panic. The feeling of comfort at his few words urging you back up from where you had reached out for the couch. Memories of laughter and teasing, of time spent together coming back to you as if he had brought them into the room with him. “I had a spare moment today, is everything okay here?”

“I-I just…I needed to make sure you were okay.” The words left you in a shaky breath. His image filled the form of the shadow, pushing you toward him. He opened his arms and you moved into them, lifting up on your tip toes to press your forehead to his own and everything whirling around in your mind calmed.

“My heart, are you alright?” His breath fanned over your face and your eyes focused on his lips. Waiting for an answer to flow from them. For all the memories that had flooded back when you first looked at him, you couldn’t recall the feel of his lips on your own.

“I’ve got you, beautiful. Everything is going to be okay.”

Before the last word was uttered, you were surging up and pressing your lips to his.

Weeks go by, the days spent with your mother and the maidens assigned to look after you and ensure you had everything you needed. Prince Cala was accommodating, doting almost when he was free from the responsibilities that came with running a successful city. He was a prince, you learned. Set to inherit his royal standing of king and full control over the city once the marriage he had proposed to you in your murky past came to fruition. He was all soft, casual touches and kisses pressed to your temples. He hadn’t kissed you fully since that first day you had woken up and you could understand his hesitancy. You were still struggling with your memory, no exact recollection of your lives together.

Assurances spoke from both him and your mother that this was indeed your life, even if everything seemed so new and part of a routine you didn’t quite feel like you were a part of. You were…slightly uncomfortable in your mother’s presence, when alone. An almost fearful undertone as you watched her movements closely, feigning focused interest in the things she told you and shared with you to mask the way your eyes catalogued everything. There was a faint weight that pulled in your gut when she would touch you, her hands always gentle but it was as if… it was as if your body was waiting for the gentle to give way to something more sinister, more ill-intentioned.

You felt more at ease with the man who had filled the shadow in your mind, his presence calming and kind. You weren’t waiting for his touch to sour, though it didn’t spring forth any feelings of desire or yearning from you. A causal intimacy between you both. Slightly disjointed in the way that you had separate room when you could recall sleeping beside a warm body before your accident. In the way that he would press his forehead to yours in greeting each morning and departure each night, the warmth of his skin against yours feeling….wrong as you recalled a coolness in the memories of the practiced motion. In the way that your flowing gowns and light layers looked beautiful in every color provided to you helped to alleviate the heat of the planet but felt too…impractical when you could recall feeling different clothing against your skin, practical, durable.

But for all the things that felt slightly shifted, you also found familiarity.

The ever present heat and bright sunshine of the planet, so unlike your own world of K’ath and yet it was almost comforting in a way. The food you enjoyed at the words of your mother and fiancé to the kitchens to keep on hand. Fresh fruits, crispy vegetables, and warm bread slathered with salted butter fresh from the ovens. Plenty of soups served over rice and easy broths for you to sip from ornate china, never anything too heavy or slathered in rich sauces. Sweet treats in the form of artisan chocolate, decadent cakes with frosting covering them in intricate designs and an endless supply of fresh, strong caf.

But you took it all in stride, spending time in the gardens, memorizing the walkways that wound through them and around the cerulean ponds filled with colorful fish. Spending time in the library and reading through the history of the planet and the city. Spending time in the lush sunroom decorated with plush rugs, overstuffed seating, and a nice view of the grounds just beyond it. Spending time overlooking the beautiful sights of the city and the distant ocean from your balcony, unable to shake the feeling like you were supposed to be somewhere else.

You tried to ignore the guards hovering around you as you explored the streets of the market. You had earned the outing after your good behavior, showing restraint in the questions you had wanted to ask but didn’t want to repeat yet again the night before. Shaking those thoughts from your head, you reached up and adjusted the dainty crown atop your head. The beautiful netting sprinkled with jewels fanning the base of it cascading over your hair in quite a nice way and it would look beautiful if the piece weren’t a deadly threat. It was a little overkill, you thought. Even if you had been nothing but willing to play along to your mothers and husbands’ words despite feeling like something was wrong, missing, like this wasn’t your life. But they were all that you knew right now, the figure of your mother familiar from childhood and you heeded her words.

You were at a stall that had an array of colorful and fragrant fruits, the sweet perfume of them blending together too tempting for you to bypass without checking out. A creature of habit, your mother called you. A woman of expensive taste, teasingly aimed at you from your husband. They knew you

You paused to hold a bundle of sunset orange berries up to inspect. A small green hand with three fingers suddenly reached out for the bowl in your hand and you jumped only slightly at the sudden company you had as you perused the stalls offerings. You turned a cautious look over but a smile broke out on your face at the cute visage of a small, wonderous face peeking out from a canvas bag that seemed to be his safe space.

“Well, hello there, little one.” You lowered the bowl for the small creature to reach for a berry, the fruit stuffed into his mouth with a happy sound that had a laugh bubbling up from your chest unbidden. “He’s rather cute. Is this your child?”

You canted your attention up, at the broad man dressed in all black who was wearing the child’s bag over a shoulder. His clothing was nondescript, matching that of the priests who littered the town. Flowing cassock and wrap atop his head. His face was obscured, much like their own by black gauzy material draped from underneath it. His dark brown eyes were the only thing visible, and you smiled at him trying to come across as friendly. You didn’t want to anger anyone in town lest they had a connection to your new family.

The figure didn’t speak for a moment, seeming to take stock of you, gauging if you were a threat or not, something everyone seemed to be doing when interacting with you. A newcomer, an outsider, not one of the many tourists visiting the city for their own amusement, but someone brought in to be a part of the ruling family. Confirmation sounded through the fabric masking his face from you and you nodded to show you heard. “He is.”

“I’ve never seen any like him before, he seems like the sweetest thing.” The child let out small coos, as if knowing he was being talked about. He reached for another berry but held it out to you this time. You shook your head lightly and another laugh bubbled up even as you felt the heavy gaze of his father on you.

“Ma’am, you’ll have to pay for- Oh, Princess Cala, I’m so sorry. I was unaware you were in the markets today. Please, take whatever you wish, I will send for payment from Sir Cala at the end of the day.”

“Oh, that’s quite alright. It’s just a little snack today, nothing too crazy.” You smiled wide at him, hoping your behavior will be relayed back to your new family and they will lower their intensity. But you also genuinely appreciated this man, he treated you like a person while everyone else in the market kept a wide berth around you. Afraid of either you as a newcomer or the guards that tailed you, you hadn’t been able to work it out yet. You reached for the small pouch attached to your belt, the jingling of the bracelets on your wrists drawing the attention of the child.

You felt the tug of on them as you reached out to place a few credits for the bowl of berries on the stand, nodding your thanks as you turned to face the child again. He was gripping the bracelets tightly, his skin touching yours as he did so and a clash of emotions flooded you, causing you to gasp and your knees buckled. Before the guards could reach you, the tall man had stepped close and his arms were wrapped gently around your back, holding you to his chest to help steady you.

“I’ve got you, mesh’la. Are you alright?” His head was pitched so his voice was right beside your ear, and it sent a shiver through your body, the timbre of it so alluring. It was all you could hear though you were aware of the soft babbling of the child close to you and the harsh voices of the guards. You felt completely calm with him, like returning to your home after a long day. Comforted, safe, cared for. His touch was so familiar, the way he held you feeling like a faint memory though you had never met him in your life.

“Unhand the princess, no one is to touch her.” The guards closed in around you both, trapping you between their bodies and the stall.

“It’s alright! I just tripped is all!” You raised your voice even though it was rather hard to concentrate with the strong body pressed up against you and holding you. You felt the man loosen his hold and step away as you stood straighter. You weren’t quite sure what happened, but he had been quick to help you, even at the expense of drawing the guards’ attention. You smiled at him, something genuine. The feelings he had stirred in you were confusing but not unwelcome. You had no idea why. He was a stranger after all.

“We must return now, Princess Cala.”

When his touch retracted, the warmth that had blossomed in your chest and the quickening of your heart beating against the cage of your ribs didn’t wane. 

You retrieved the bowl of berries and held a few out to the slightly dejected child, his large ears turned downward. “Here you go, little one. Make sure to share those with your papa, okay?”

Another glance roved over his face, a soft smile just for him, and you were bidding him a good day with a bow of your head. The urge to press your forehead against his strong, but you resisted, knowing that it felt too personal a thing for the stranger standing beside you. Your brow furrowed slightly, unsure of where the need to do so rose from. The comfortability and underlying feeling of complete and utter safety that the man stoked in you confusing you, he was a stranger, and yet it felt like there was a string wrapped around your heart that pulled taught and uncomfortable as you began to move away from him.

And with that you were turning and walking away from the stall, two guards leading you back to the palace and two behind you. You could feel the kind man’s brown eyes watching you as you did, daring to look over your shoulder to get one last look at him yourself.

Your breath hitched as your eyes met his even from the distance of the street and you felt the heat from his intimate touch and soft words encompass you completely. A dull pain throbbed in your temple, forcing you to turn away.

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dividers by the lovely @saradika-graphics and @cafekitsune

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[littlemisssatanist]

on the topic of me being team green

a bit of a different post for me, considering what my blog is, but i was honestly so offended at being called a misogynist i made a fresh google docs page and typed out 1634 words of me ranting.

is there a real reason to post this? probably not, but i felt the need to establish myself as team green, considering all the posts i've been liking and commenting on lately. (if you are team green, and you see this, feel free to be my friend. in fact, i am begging you to be my friend. i have no tg friends and i need to see the light).

beware, typos and repitition are probably aplenty.

Whenever I see people talk about being TG, I always will see TB stans in the comments saying something along the lines of “Oh, you must be a misogynist, then.” And you know, it never happened to me until a few days ago when I commented on a TikTok post about Rhaenyra beefing with two-year-old Aegon. Someone replied to me, saying that I only brought it up because I’m a misogynist.

And. You know, I’ve been insulted before. I’ve been called ugly, stupid, immature, whatever whatever. But I honestly can’t think of a worse thing for someone to say to me, that I’m a misogynist. I know this isn’t that commentator’s fault, because they obviously don't know me. But the irony of calling me a misogynist when I am the most misandristic person to exist on this earth. I pray for the downfall of men daily. I make fun of them. Whenever I see an AITA post on TikTok, I am immediately on the woman’s side, regardless of what she may have done. 

It’s because I distrust men to a certain degree. You know what’s different for ASoIaF, though? It’s not real. It’s all fiction. TB stans will come on the internet daily and complain about TG existing, calling us misogynists, elevating the conflict between us to that of a literal genocide. Are y'all delusional? Are you guys stuck so far up Rhaenyra’s ass that you can’t tell reality from fiction? 

Y’all love to preach about how Rhaenyra is the number one feminist girlboss of Westeros, without realizing exactly how exactly you’re falling into the trap. You uphold a woman because she’s the heir, meanwhile she steals Rhaena’s and Baela’s inheritance in order to put her illegitimate sons on the throne (which, btw, is treason). But of course you guys wouldn’t care, because you like to think Rhaenyra is the exception to the rule.

That’s the thing. She’s only the exception because of her father, the king. After Viserys dies, she suddenly finds herself back in the same patriarchal world that y’all love to claim she’s trying to overthrow, that she’s trying to change. 

I don’t hate Rhaenyra because she’s a woman. I hate her because she’s a stupid woman. She knew exactly what it meant to be a woman in Westeros; she gets forced into an unwanted marriage (and even in that she gets far more freedom and will to choose than other women), she is undermined for being a woman, and others view her as unfit to rule. I would sympathize with her if she did absolutely anything to change that whatsoever. 

Y’all love to say that she’s so iconic with her dragon scenes, but what did that really accomplish aside from showcasing she is unfit to rule? She has three illegitimate sons who look absolutely nothing like her. Even if Viserys was on her side, everyone knows that they are bastards. Like, at least Cersei’s bastards looked like her. Rhaenyra was a white woman with white hair married to a black man with white hair, and her first three children are white boys with brown hair. Girl, if you were going to have bastards, at least do it with someone that bears at least some resemblance to your husband, or yourself. She purposefully made it harder for herself.

And for those of you guys who will bring up something about Laenor being gay. I genuinely don’t know how to tell you this, but if they truly cared about keeping up appearances, they would have had children. I say this as a queer person myself: If I were in Laenor’s shoes, I would have children with my coverup. Afterall, that’s what a coverup is for. And also: I could find nothing about Laenor being infertile. 

And for those who will also bring up Laenor accepting the Strong boys as his own, I literally couldn't care less. Everyone and their grandmother could see that those boys were bastards. Laenor accepting them and Viserys being delusional doesn’t change the fact that they were illegitimate, and everybody knew it. Secondly: Rhaenyra would need to admit the boys were bastards in the first place for anybody to claim them, something she did not do. In fact, she went so far the opposite way, I wouldn’t be surprised if she managed to delude herself that they were legitimate. 

And this I don’t understand. How do you shoot yourself in the foot, not once, not twice, but three times, with three obvious bastards, knowing that people would oppose you, people already oppose you, and still think yourself fit to rule? Every decision Rhaenyra makes is so stupid, it’s almost mind blowing to me. To live in Dragonstone for years while your father, the king, is sick (in which case, btw, the heir is supposed to step in to rule). Instead, we see Alicent ruling the kingdoms from behind the shadow, because Rhaenyra does nothing but live out a couple of years of bliss and comes back to King's Landing expecting everything to be handed to her. She does absolutely no politicking, absolutely nothing in order to sway the lords to her side. Should she be so surprised, then, that she is met with such resistance? 

Y’all TB stands love to call TG misogynistic because we don’t worship your perfect little dragon lady, as if her uncle-husband isn’t Lord of Fleabottom and grooms and rapes her from a young age. As if Daemon hasn’t called women whores and bitches, and his first wife, Rhea Royce, ‘Bronze Bitch.’ Like, is that not disgusting to you? Y’all love to preach about how Daemon loved Rhaenyra, as if he didn’t choke her the moment she disagreed with his methods. As if his first instinct everytime is anger and death and war.

(In case y’all couldn’t tell, I am extremely anti-war. I am under the impression that if you can’t solve things by talking it out, then you are definitely not mature enough to be ruling a kingdom, and Daemon is one of the most immature rapist misogynists I’ve ever had the displeasure of seeing).

(As an aside, I am not blaming Rhaenyra for her relationship with Daemon. Yes, I do find that most of her actions are stupid, but I cannot deny the fact that she was groomed and raped by him-- yes, raped, because she was a child, and children cannot consent. That is in no way her fault, and Daemon is the one responsible for this).

Y’all praise Rhaenyra for her maternal instincts while simultaneously hating Alicent for hers. Of course, an eye for an eye is unreasonable and far too much, but a son for a son is totally reasonable and to be expected. Rhaenyra protecting her children is being a good mother, but Alicent (rightfully) assuming that her children would be persecuted if Rhaenyra ascended the throne is her being a jealous bitch. Y’all blow her “sweet sister” line so much out of proportion, saying that she wouldn’t have killed her siblings if they just came over to her side. As if Alicent’s children, Alicent’s family, would choose Rhaenyra over her. Because “Helaena was the only good green” and “if only she just joined Rhaenyra”. Why would she ever do that? Because Aegon was a bad husband? The show literally stated that he only ever laid with her when he was drunk, because he couldn't do it otherwise. Obviously neither of them sought any pleasure from it, but they are still family. Helaena only had Aemond, Aegon, Daeron, and Alicent. Why would Rhaenyra ever be worth what her family is worth to her?

On a similar note, TB stans will constantly say how “oh, I feel sorry for younger Alicent, but not older Alicent.” As if Alicent wasn’t a 14 year old girl groomed and abused, as if she wasn’t twice pregnant by 17. As if Alicent wasn’t a victim doing her best in a world specifically designed against her.

That’s the difference between her and Rhaenyra. Both were victims to a much older man, but Rhaenyra considered herself an exception. Alicent had no choice but to be the bad guy, and despite how much y’all love to ignore it, Rhaenyra should have done the same. “Oh but Alicent was jealous of Rhaenyra!” Like you wouldn’t also be jealous of Rhaenyra? Rhaenyra, the perfect little princess, loved by her rapist daddy the king, who had everything handed to her on a silver platter. Would you not also be infuriated by her attitude, the entitled way she views the world? I’m sorry, but if your “strong female character” needs every other female character to agree with her, then she’s not that strong. Or a girlboss.

In conclusion, Rhaenyra sucks and is a terrible role model. True feminists love Alicent Hightower. Also, negative comments will be deleted, bc yk what is so fun about the internet? You can block people. I know, crazy concept. If you don’t want to see me or other TG on your for you page, consider blocking them. That tends to get rid of the thing you don’t want to see. I will also be doing this to anyone who thinks they’re smart enough to argue this topic with me. I do not care, hope your day goes terribly. <3

Btw, please never call me a misogynist again. In fact, you can call me Little Miss Misandrist, because there is no universe out there where I side with a man over Alicent Hightower. Or any woman at all, for that matter. 

(Except for maybe if the pickings were between Rhaenyra and Criston. If you’re one of the media illiterate TB stands who consider Criston to be an incel, you should also go ahead and block me, your stupidness is draining my brain cells).

Stay mad, xoxo.

[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. 

[sjofn-lofnsdottr]

Hey! I love your gposes, and I was wondering if you had any tips on how to get better at making them.

Oh, thank you! You're kind to say so!

I'm gonna approach this like you're super new to it, so I'm sorry if I'm telling you shit you already know! And if you have other questions about something specific, you can DM me if you like, I don't mind. Honestly, that goes for anyone reading this!

I can sense this is going to be stupid long, so I'm also gonna hide a bunch of it behind a cut.

So starting off with vanilla gpose advice, in a general sense I'd say play around with lighting a lot. I usually try to get at least some light spilling onto people from the side (ideally where a light source would be anyway) in order to give them more definition. I know there's gpose lighting tutorials out there that can probably explain it so much better than I can (like this one? maybe?), but it really makes such a huge difference overall. Even when you're taking a picture outside in the sun, a little bit of extra lighting can make stuff look more interesting.

(I might be a little biased, I was a theatrical electrician for a while. I think lighting is neat.)

Another vanilla-applicable thing I'd say is get really, really, really embarrassingly familiar with the in-game emotes, and practice your timing for when you want to freeze them. And don't forget that the 'expression' emotes will override an emote's usual face, which can change the vibe in some fun ways:

And the third piece of vanilla gpose advice I'd give is to mess around with the filters the game has on the 'general settings' tab. Honestly, you've probably done this, but mess around with ALL the things in the gpose menu. Push every button, waggle every slider, just to see what they do.

I'm currently loitering at an art party, so let me show you a little bit what I mean.

So to start, I go into gpose and see what's what. I let all the background people stop facing the camera, and move the camera a bit to an angle I like. I'm sitting in a corner, which is going to mess with the camera more than usual, but in this case, it's messing with it in a way I like, getting me nice and close to Dusk:

Dusk could stand to look friendlier, right? So I head to the emotes tab in the menu, and pick 'beam' for his expression, because it's the smile I like best on him:

Still kinda bleh. Things look a touch murky, and flatter than I like. Before I do ANYTHING with the lighting though, I go here:

And then I save the hell out of the camera position. Saving the camera position has saved me so much pain. This is because placing lights in gpose requires you moving the camera, since they drop exactly where your camera is. But I like this angle, and I don't want to lose it. So I save it! It'll also save lighting settings, which I find handy occasionally, but not nearly as often (it's a lifesaver when I accidentally hit the hotkey that turns off lights though).

I've taken a lot of pictures in this venue, and the pink/white color scheme is uh ... tricky for me, sometimes. But on the upside, white walls and floors bounce light really well! For this picture, I think I want some light coming from the left of the frame to give Dusk slightly more interesting shadows, and a blue light much further away and above to soften the harshness of the white and pink:

My next step is to use the gpose-provided color filters to see if there's anything I like, just in case:

Bright 1 is one I've wound up using a lot, even though it ruins my eyes and makes everything look dark as hell once I come out of gpose.

Now, the white coming from the left is hitting Dusk pretty much exactly how I want it to, but it's lighting up his moogle sundae more than I'd prefer. The way I usually deal with this is using the 'limb darkening' slider. What it does is darken the edge of the picture, to varying degrees. It even has different colors, although I use black pretty much always:

I only used one tick, but it's made me much happier about the sundae! My one complaint now is that I had to turn off depth of field in order to keep Dusk from being blurry (it's a slider, but by the time Dusk looked focus, it might as well have been shut off anyway), but it's something I can live with for a vanilla gpose.

I have reShade installed though, so let's mess with that for fun. I tend to stick to presets that don't stray too far from what the game itself does unless I'm doing dumb vampire artsy things:

But honestly, in this case I don't think it was really necessary.

As for getting better with crimes, I would again stress getting familiar with the game's emotes and attack animations, because they are often a fantastic starting point to modify into something you're wanting to see. Also, this sounds weird (probably) but when I first started out, I did a lot of throw away pictures that no one besides my Discord knitting circle will ever see because everyone is naked in them. I did this for two reasons. Wait, no, three:

I was high when this idea came to me and therefore I lacked my usual shame.

Clothes clipping was driving me crazy and I wasn't good enough to handle it yet. Stripping everyone naked took that out of the equation, so I could focus on actually moving the dollies in peace.

However! It also meant I couldn't depend on clothes to mask some of my worst shortcut sins as far as moving limbs and what it did to their joints went. This meant I got a lot better at knowing how to move the dollies I was working with in the way the models want to be moved and still look right.

Obviously a saner thing to do would be ~beach pictures~ with everyone in swimsuits. Good thing Dawntrail is coming!

Some of the things I learned during this naked process:

While I try to make a pose look good from multiple angles, because I rarely know what angle I'm going to ACTUALLY want until stuff is at least roughed in, if I know for absolute certain I'm only going to take it from one particular angle, it is best for one's sanity to make sure it looks good from that angle and ignore everything you can't see otherwise.

If you ARE taking more than one angle of the same pose, it is not a crime to make little adjustments after you change the angle! This is extra true when you're doing something like a kiss, because noses are the worst. Go ahead and nudge something that looked right from Angle A but a little off from Angle B. No one will know your dark secret.

Somewhat related, sometimes little tweaks are really all you need! This is especially true when it comes to faces. Try not to overthink what you're doing too much.

Very often, if you want to move, say, an arm from position A to position B, you should start by adjusting the clavicle and work your way down. At first this was kinda slow and annoying and required a bunch of passes, but it resulted in way more natural looking results without asking people to politely ignore wonky elbows and such. Like everything else in the world, this gets a lot faster with practice and is 1000% worth getting halfway decent at.

Hands are the devil, but they also really make or break a pose for me a lot of the time. The more natural you can make hands and fingers look when touching something, the better, I feel. On the whole, I find FFXIV hands are a lot better at gentle-looking touches than rough-looking ones, but that may be my own limitations talking here. Spend time just messing with hands to get familiar with them, just like the rest of the skeleton. Eventually it'll start to get easier and easier to move stuff to where you want it without having to do a million little adjustments on the way to where you're aiming (I'm down to about half a million these days).

Eye contact is fucking hard too. I try to get the models to do as much of the work for me as possible as I go into gpose. For example, I'll make sure Dusk has Farron targeted, so he'll already looking down at him, but most of the time I'm going to be moving their heads or bodies too much for that eye contact to still look right. The way I usually do it is put the camera behind the person being looked at, and then make that person disappear and adjust the looker's eyes from there. Then I check from the angle I actually want to shoot from and make tiny adjustments to make it look more 'correct' to my eyes. Sometimes when I post Camera A/Camera B angles? It's because the eye contact only looked right from those angles no matter what I did and I'm making you all just have to deal with it.

Double check everything! It's easy to rough something in and then go blind to it being not-quite-right.

It takes me about 5 minutes to stop noticing nakedness because I am too busy swearing about elezen necks or something.

Once you start letting your dolls wear clothes and armor again, you have to start thinking about clipping and physics and such, which will also take practice, but I feel like people on the whole are a lot more subconsciously forgiving about that, because we all play this game and we all got trained to ignore a certain amount of clothes being weird because of it (this goes for most clipping, really). Which is good! I try to minimize clipping without actually having to touch any of the clothing bones if at all possible and only really mess with those if I absolutely have to because, say, the entire tail of Dusk's coat is clipping through the chair he's sitting on.

I suppose that's another thing, sometimes ... sometimes a glam is just a nightmare to work around and you just wear something else.

I hope this was ... helpful at all, I know it's long but hopefully not full of shit you knew already, or overwhelming to read. But I wanted to say more than just 'practice,' since that's hard to do if you don't even know what you should be practicing! And again, if you have a more specific question (or follow up questions?), definitely send a DM or something!

[twig-tea]

Hi!

So Cherry Magic Thailand was amazing. Which really surprised me. I still have reservations about the next jbl adaptations by Thailand, but I guess we'll see. Anyway, because of that I have been thinking about this.

Which existing series do you think could benefit from an adaptation by a different country? That could maybe give the story a different perspective or simply because they would have different resources? Thanks

Rose💜

Thank you so much for this ask, Rose, and apologies for being so slow to answer!

The first obvious answer to this is anything from the censored era of Chinese BL being picked up by a different country. We're already seeing the benefits of that in Taiwan's adaptation of DaGe in Unknown the series, which from what I've been told is not only going to allow some intense kisses (possibly, if the actors aren't trolling us, more explicit sex scenes than are actually in the original Priest novel, though I'm not going to assume we're getting anything until I see it), but also with changes like a reduction in the homophobia of characters. Recently they announced SaYe/Chasing the Light was optioned for a film version outside of mainland China, so I'm now hopeful some of the stuff that was shelved is going to get made after all, and maybe with less censorship. That being said, a whole list of just censored dramas that were based on BL novels would be boring. So instead I'm considering what shows did I like but wanted to see done again in a different way, and which country would handle the themes and style of the original in a way that would be fun to watch?

I'm thinking about Love Stage!!! Which was a Japanese manga adaptation with a version from both Japan and Thailand, and My Dead Gangster Oppa which was adapted from a Korean webtoon, and Why R U Korea adapted from the Thai show, and how the productions in the different countries would change what we get. So, I'll be basing my answer on those as well as CMT you referenced.

[Sidenote: originally I was going to say Thailand should adapt Man Who Defies the World of BL except with Series-Y tropes and then realized that's exactly what Why R U was supposed to be in the first place--it would be neat to see a Korean version of this storyline with webtoon tropes (we kind of got that with Our Dating Sim but they went with dating game tropes instead). ANYWAY that's not really an adaptation so I'm not including it below, but putting it into the universe.]

Enough waffling, let's go!

Twig's Foreign Adaptation Wish List

Taiwanese adaptation of 2gether

Hear me out. If we're going to see this story again, I want better reasons for needing to fake date and better chemistry once they're actually dating, and I can imagine Taiwan adding in the angst and chemistry to make this show work through to the end. Taiwan would also have no problem keeping Sarawat's obsession with Tine's pecs in the storyline (critical inclusion, imho), and we know Taiwan loves a "they met before and this is fate" plot so I think this would work well. Switching Sarawat's obsession with Scrubb to something else would be a really interesting cultural shift and would help ground the series in the adaptation country.

Korean adaptation of I Can Hear the Sunspot / Silhouette of Your Voice

@absolutebl has said this before and they're right, this is the one JBL manga adaptation that I'd love to see it done again as a series with enough time to fully handle the character development that happens in the manga. NGL in my heart of hearts I'd want Japan to take another crack at it, but for this game I'll say Korea. I know Korea has a few good disability narratives (thinking of the love for Twinkling Watermelon I've heard about recently) so I think they could do a good job. Korean media also handles silence well and that's pretty critical for this one; they could also do some interesting things to illustrate the changes in the main character's hearing.

Japanese adaptation of Love Sick

I am envisioning a reverse Cherry Magic scenario, in which the foreign adaptation follows the written source material better than the domestic adaptation did, and then adds their own flair. Now take this with a grain of salt because I haven't read the novel, but my understanding is that the original Thai novel is about Pun and Noh as the main characters with the music club all there but the dramatic side heterosexual storylines are not nearly as front and center, and they were added to pad out the show because folks weren't sure how a BL series would land. I know there is already a Thai remake but let's pretend that's not happening. Japan handles earnest and sweet school-aged first loves well, and can handle the goofiness required of the Noh character, and deeply understands and portrays found family core friendships well, and I bet a Japanese production would do a great job with that core storyline. We don't get a lot of larger friend groups in Japanese BL and I want to see a Japanese production handle that. The one thing that gave me hesitation about this was the importance of the busking subplot and I don't think busking is a big thing in Japan the way it is in Thailand and Korea but that could be another opportunity for making it feel more grounded in the adapting country so I'm keeping it as-is.

Thai adaptation of Boyband Love

I'm going to steal the idea that I've seen @lurkingshan @bengiyo and @shortpplfedup mention before and riff of it to say that Daou and Offroad should be in a boyband BL; this is a main reason why I want a Thai remake of the Filipino series Boyband Love [which I don't actually recommend but, fun fact, had an out gay couple starring in it but they were not paired together in the show--Gus, who plays the lead Danny, has 2 kids with Louie who plays the side character Rico]. Thailand is clearly desperate to do a boyband BL so that they can make money off the concerts; Boyband Love as a story is already calibrated to be cheap to make because it's about a band getting ready to debut, and Thailand can scale it up from the original show. It's also no longer a period of COVID restrictions so crowds can be brought in. The storyline is pretty much what I would want of a Boyband BL: rivals within a band to lovers, pining amongst band members, underwater kiss, industry drama, and (spoilers for a 2020 series) the decision to essentially do BGP but keep their relationship secret. Thailand would have fun with that, I think. And they can add a little more heat, it's very important to me that something happens in the practice room pls and thank you.

Japanese adaptation of Middleman's Love

Japan gets two because they can do this type of comedy so well, and I really liked the bones of the Thai version so I'd love to see it done again. Japan can also handle trauma narratives so if they wanted to do both Bed Friend and Middleman Love they would be able to handle it. Korea is really good at balancing humour and trauma, but Japan is so good at losers who don't think they deserve love, and also excellent at pining, so I'm giving this one to Japan.

Korean adaptation of Triage

We're getting Korea twice because I haven't seen Korea do much in the way of genre BL yet, and while I admit this may be slightly influenced by me watching Hospital Playlist right now, Korea can handle the fast-paced ER scenes that are throughout this show, as well as the mix of drama and comedy. I'd love to see a more highly produced version of this show, and I know Korea can handle this kind of time loop shenanigans and heavenly spirits helping the protagonist along from kdramas. I liked the original a lot but I'd love to see it done again a little more tightly!

Bonus nonsense one: Taiwanese version of Calculating Love

This one is literally just for me. Ok listen I know I'm the only one who likes this show, and that's fine, it doesn't actually deserve attention. And it's so small that it would never be adapted. But I loved this dorky little short about nerds flirting with calculus and I want more. Taiwan is fantastic at dorks falling in love narratives, and so many of the HIStory series were short school BL, so I think they'd do an excellent job tightening up the story in the back half which got a bit meander-y and keeping the heat that's already there.

Thank you again for the really fun ask, Rose! 💕

[shkika]

Got any Headcanon backstory of how each iterator was named? Like, how did No Significant Harassment get his name? How did Five Pebbles get his name? Etc, etc. I'm curious what you think!

OHH what a fun ask to make up stuff on actually. Sure I have some headcanons. Iterator names are so so fun, because there's a lot you can do with them.

Different local groups could have themes perhaps on their names. Or perhaps their names are phrases or sayings or derive from them. I will go with each colony having their individual meaning for the iterator name.

Sliver of Straw- I've talked about her name extensively here! (x) Please check it out, because I LOVE her name. Basically means needle in a haystack + shortening it to SOS is genius. Just the best.

Looks To The Moon- I don't know if this is the most original take, but I do think her name has a lot of meaning especially if you take into account that she's one of the first or at least an extremely old iterator. I compare it to the landing on the Moon in a way even if it sounds silly. This impossible to reach place is now something well withing reach. Her name is to represent looking at opportunity at the impossible and striving to achieve it. Which can connect to.. well answering the impossible ascension question.

Five Pebbles- This is such a hard one for me. But since the game makes such strong parallels between those two. Making them opposites and such it makes sense to see that in their names. While Looks to the Moon's name is grand and aiming for high achievements. Five Pebbles' name could perhaps be about the smaller mundane things. Finding the solution in a little nook or cranny somewhere close to you. A place where you'd least expect it.

One name is to aim hight and strive for the impossible. The other is about staying low and finding the answer in the small things in life. Which is hilarious if you look at their actual characters. With FP making the bold dangerous decisions and experiments and LTTM vibing like a much more grounded character than him. I love those two.

No Significant Harassment- People find his name really weird which is amusing, because it's really not! To me at least. It can very simply mean "No real harm done". Which I think is probably the intention and it suits his funny guy personality quite a lot. In a way his name could mean peace! A fun hc I discussed with @creeket is that perhaps before NSH was built the colony was divided into four factions/houses that hated each other. The iterator was a reason for them to unite and work on something together which is what the four connected diamonds on his forehead represent.

Seven Red Suns- Okay this is one of the names I struggle the most with. My headcanons about SRS which I've mentioned before is that their colony is very religious and made them as an actual god, treating him as an actual all knowing god much muuch more than the other iterators are treated to the point Seven Red Suns has actual political power (which they really don't want to have). So I think their name is supposed to express how grand and impressive they are. Seven as in complete, perfect. Red is a royal, regal color and of course Suns further cementing their godhood. It makes me think of how the sun is often personified or given a deity to represent it. It can be a cruel leader that dries the land, but also give life and light.

Of course there's many ways to take it in completely different ways. Red stars if I'm not mistaken are the coldest.

Chasing Wind- I also really really like this iterator name. I like to imagine it as either one of two things or both. Chasing after something that is right in front of you yet just barely out of grasp. Like y'know the wind! Or your head is Chasing wind. Having an abundance of thoughts or ideas. Your imagination and creativity running wild and free like the wind!

Unparalleled Innocence- It's so on the nose haha. There is no buts or anything that is a direct opposite to her name in my headcanons. She's a very well meaning innocent person. She was the last iterator to be ever made and lacks a lot more context than the other. She was based of the concept of a child. Which of course children are known for their innocence and unique approach to the world.

[skyloftian-nutcase]

I've figured out who most of your oc Links are, but not all of them, do you have a list with all of them somewhere? They all seem really fun :)

*squealing* AH YES THANK YOU FOR ASKING :D

I actually don't have a list of them all together, the closest I had was a post I made about their Hero titles, so I'll just do it here! :D

Orik/Link, Hero of Power - Half-Sheikah, Half-Hylian. Raised in Sheikah culture as a warrior, helps protect the royal family. Becomes friends with Princess Zelda as he's often assigned to protect the castle and she's essentially imprisoned there by her father. Falls in love with the Gerudo chief's daughter, Hemisi. Starts to get involved with Hemisi's family, including her father, Ganondorf, but things fall apart when Gan decides to ruin everything and try to steal the Triforce. It splits, predictably, and Link gets the Triforce of Courage. Fights in the ensuing war that breaks out and helps defeat Ganon, using the Triforce alongside Zelda (Wisdom) and Hemisi (Power) to split his soul and seal him away. Despite being engaged to Hemisi, the damage to Hyrule from the war forces him to marry Zelda instead to help stabilize the kingdom. Soft spoken, extremely duty oriented, kindhearted and sensitive with a playful nature that usually stays hidden unless he's with friends. Super light blonde hair that he usually keeps in a top knot, tan skin, red eyes. He has two names, Orik is his Sheikah name given by his father, Link is his Hylian name from his mother. Predecessor to Hyrule Warriors Link.

Link, Hero of Shadow - Whereas the Hero of Power is from the Calamity timeline, Shadow is from the TotK timeline! (spoiler talk ahead!) Same Link, slightly different life. Still half-Sheikah half-Hylian, started his journey as a warrior/assassin of the royal family much younger and met Hemisi much younger. Was officially engaged to Hemisi before the war ever started, and essentially adopted by Ganondorf and Nabooru as a result. Died during the war protecting Rauru from a killing blow from Ganondorf. He died in Gan's arms, begging him to stop the insanity, and then stabbed Gan with a light shard in his chest, which Rauru later used in the same fight to seal him away for 10k years. Is resurrected by Ganondorf's power 10k years later and is under his control, trying to fight against him through manipulation. Much more stoic than his Calamity counterpart, but also consequently more sensitive and childlike - he's been serving as a fighter since he was 12 and is a little emotionally stunted as a result. He is majorly attention starved, and Gan knows this. They both try to manipulate each other to see who wins out. Died when he was 15.

Mystery Link/Sir Edgy, Hero of Spirits - The eldest and most introverted of all the OC Links, he's 25 and 100% Done with Destiny. He went on his first adventure when he was 17, saving the world, and then went on to save other lands and lately help local areas out. He prefers smaller missions, enjoying seeing the impact it makes, but he's honestly just tired and too afraid to lose anything or anyone else. As a result, he self isolates a lot. It's just him and his trusty chocolate Labrador, who he technically named Friend because he sucks at names but he gives her every nickname under the sun, including the Chocolate Chonkster. He originally wielded the Triforce of Courage during his first adventure, and returned it with all the Triforce pieces when he was done. He lives in the woods, avoiding interacting with people as much as possible, until Princess Zelda starts searching for him because she senses danger and accidentally splits the Triforce. She knows she has to find the Hero of Hyrule, but no one knows of Link's location or if he's even still alive after disappearing for eight years. He lives simply and is always on the road. Major attachment issues. When the Triforce splits due to Zelda's mishap, he inherits the Triforce of Wisdom, a fact he keeps hidden, though he laments it's appropriate he lost the right to Courage. Is known as the Hero of Spirits because he can interact with magical spirits, including accidentally reviving Ghirahim (he tried to get rid of the sword by throwing it into a volcano but it bounced off a Goron's head and landed in a hot spring and Ghirahim liked the place so much he stayed there for a year) and meeting the Soul of the Hero. Is very sassy, because dark humor and deadpanning are what preserve his cold, isolated soul. That and playing with Friend. Blonde hair tied back in a little ponytail, lighter skin, blue eyes, with a whisp of hair floating over his forehead and off to the side, and a thin mustache. He's a heartbreaker wherever he goes and he is not a fan of the attention, so he tries to avoid that. Has a fan club in another country when his shirt half tore off during a battle. Doesn't want to talk about it.

Gerudo Link/Fancy Hands - An honorary member of the OC Link club, this boy was named Link to save him from the fate of all other male Gerudos up to this point. Yeah. He's Ganondorf. But he's nice! And he is a massuer by trade. Lives in the same Hyrule/world as Mystery Link. Is dragged into adventure when Princess Zelda goes hunting for the Hero of Hyrule and does so by visiting every single person named Link, which is like... half the kingdom. Link knows of his people's history and tries to keep it on the down low. 100% did not want to dragged into this, but here he is. Will sass Zelda into oblivion as vengeance. He is literally the sassiest Link on this list. He and Mystery Link eventually commiserate and bond over this. Doesn't think himself worthy of the name Link, but admires the Heroes of the past and tries to keep his head down so Destiny leaves him the heck alone. Has loving parents and he writes to them often. Owns a business! The most financially successful Link ever, is decked out in jewelry and half the kingdom adores his work. Might be guilty of tax evasion. 19 years old, dark skin and flaming red hair that he keeps in a braid. Golden eyes, glams himself up with jewelry but he doesn't wear rings so his hands are free for massages. Wears typical Hylian attire.

Lurelin Link, Hero of Champions - A native to Lurelin Village, this Link was born in the aftermath of the Great Calamity. He is the new Hero chosen by the goddesses after Link, Hero of the Wild, was killed by the Calamity. The Hylian Champion stays as a spirit, befriending Lurelin Link to protect him and try to give him emotional support when the time comes. Lurelin is very sweet and somewhat naive, starts his adventuring at 15. He's good at reading people, very empathetic. Adores fishing and is an expert and will talk your ear off about it. Can be timid, doesn't like being in an argument/confrontation with someone. Will fight beasts like a pro, though - he is an adrenaline junkie, he adores adventuring with his spirit friend. Tan skin, black spiky hair that he keeps in a ponytail, optimistic and loving and kind. His biggest challenge yet has been trying to convince his predecessor's father, a bitter and broken knight named Abel, to believe he's the new Hero and tell him where the Master Sword is.

[heirtotheempire]

I know this is a bit of a touchy subject right now, but I want to discuss the differences between creating alien species and making them look non-human, versus simply having bad makeup. Because there is a distinction! Putting it all under a read more because it got a bit longer then intended😵‍💫

For starters, none of this criticism has anything to do with the actors. This is purely directed towards Disney's makeup department. I think the actors fit the bill appearance-wise, end of story.

Hera and Thrawn, in short, do not look all that great in terms of facial makeup. And as someone who adores these characters, it is frustrating! Disney, one of the largest entertainment companies on Earth, couldn't find the time, budget, or artists to work on the appearances of two main characters in this show they've been building up to for years.

Personally, my main problem with it is the lack of contouring. I've been saying this to my friend for weeks as well as mentioned it in reblogs on and off, but neither Hera or Thrawn have any sort of contouring done to enhance their face shapes. There is no emphasis on the cheekbones, or for Thrawn's forehead bumps, none of it. They rely on the actors' natural facial structures to do the work for them. Which, if it was cosplay or otherwise in person, is fine. But with studio lights, it causes a washed-out look, especially depending on where the light is coming from. To combat this (in an acting setting), makeup artists emphasize things such as the eyebrows and the cheeks and especially any wrinkles, to help bring out any facial expressions made.

How does this differ from aliens being, well. Aliens! Considering we don't have a real baseline for what real life aliens would look like, it's only fair to allow filmmakers to go wild with speculation, even if it's off-putting. But that isn't what the issue is here. The aliens we're focusing on here, Twi'leks and Chiss, do have similar facial structures to humans. They're humanoids! So their faces would reflect light and cast shadows just as much as a human face would. By all accounts, make aliens freaky looking, but basic rules of light still apply. We should be able to clearly see Thrawn's cheekbones and forehead bumps without having to pull out a magnifying glass, something that is possible via, you guessed it, contouring!

Also, considering this is fiction, things looking bad is more of a reflection on the effort being put into the show than anything else. They could have done more but chose not to. Star Trek has some fantastic examples of humanoid aliens being distinctly alien without being poorly designed (I've been watching TNG and it is quite fun!). As said before, I'm all for freaky looking aliens. But bad design and bad makeup ruins that. What is and isn't bad design and makeup does fall into a more subjective range, I won't shy away from that truth. But I cannot get over the lack of contouring in a show that can be so brightly lit! Disney's shooting themselves in the foot here!

At the end of the day this is a television show though. Lets not get mad at people who do or do not like the makeup, and people are allowed to critique it as much as others are allowed to enjoy it. No one is any less of a fan for not liking the Ahsoka show, and no one is less of a fan for loving the show. I've seen some... very nasty things in the tags in relation to this specifically as well as for the whole show. Not very fun.

To end this on a lighter note, here's a very wonderfully done makeup job on a cosplayer! I don't know how to make the embedded stuff go away whoops😭

[tatertato]

life series smp winners playlists part 2

we're back! for those who don't know, i'm putting together songs that i think fit each of the life series winners, and they're either songs i've seen work really really well in animatics already or songs that would probably work really well, but are less popular or not associated with this fandom (yet)

i'll be linking+listing them here as well as providing little snippets of explanation for why i think the song fits, but i don't feel like making actual spotify playlists or smth, so if anyone else wants to do that, be my guest.

i still had trouble finding good songs for some of them (this one especially)- if anyone seeing this has a good idea that i missed, lmk and i'll update these posts (no promises tho)

pt 1 (3L!Grian)

pt 3 (DL!Pearl)

Last Life: Scott

Boss Bitch - Doja Cat: alright, kickin it off strong! picked this song for the gaslight gatekeep girlboss energy and little else

Yeah, ain't tryna be cool like you Wobblin' around in your high-heeled shoes I'm clumsy, made friends with the floor Two for one, you know a bitch buy four And two left feet, you know I always drop (this line because of this post and this post alone)

I'm a bitch, I'm a boss I'm a bitch and a boss, I'ma shine like gloss (need i say more)

Said, I took it and I ran for it I won it then I stand on it (NEED I SAY MORE)

2. Two - Sleeping at Last: as i mentioned i had some trouble finding songs for scott since i dont watch his pov too often, so some of these are less exclusively last life and more just his character in general. that being said, i do feel like this still fits to an extent for LL!Scott

Sweetheart, you look a little tired When did you last eat? Come in and make yourself right at home Stay as long as you need (this is scott's total eldest sibling energy, always helping and trying to be friends before anything- ex: taking in cleo, being friendly to scar)

You know I'll take my heart clean apart if it helps yours beat (this applies more after last life, see: the many many many times he offers to sacrifice himself, but also the fact that he refuses to betray his friends as the boogeyman)

Like a force to be reckoned with A mighty ocean or a gentle kiss I will love you without any strings attached And what a privilege it is to love A great honour to hold you up (very representative of scott's trust and loyalty to his allies in every series, through both chaos and peace)

3. Constellations - The Oh Hellos: at first this one was only here for the star symbolism, but after listening to it a couple more times it does fit pretty well (also the oh hellos is very scottagecore)

'Cause like constellations a million years away Every good intention, every good intention Is interpolation, a line we drew in the array Looking for the faces Looking for the shapes in the silence (despite all his efforts to maintain alliances throughout the series, everything inevitably falls apart in the chaos of the finale)

Like constellations imploding in the night Everything is turning, everything is turning The shapes that you drew may change beneath a different light And everything you thought you knew Will fall apart, but you'll be all right (LL was really the only series in which they made a point to isolate the reds- in DL, there was always a pair, and alliances stayed solid despite name color in LimL and SL- but in LL, alliances could be torn apart so quickly, loyalties constantly changing which made it hard to trust others and that shows why scott's loyalty stood out)

4. How to Be a Heartbreaker - Marina and the Diamonds: this is another one that isn't exclusively LL, i just had to put one in abt scotts many ex's.

Rule number one is that you gotta have fun But, baby, when you're done, you gotta be the first to run Rule number two, just don't get attached to Somebody you could lose (i see these "rules" kind of as lessons learned from each season instead, like things he tells himself he'll do next time, but because of his loyal and caring nature, never can)

How to be a heartbreaker Boys they like the look of danger We'll get him falling for a stranger A player, singing I lo-lo-love you At least I think I do (really like i said, a play on the ex's)

5. The Garden - The Crane Wives: here it is, the obligatory crane wives song

Put your ear to my heart or set your teeth against my throat Give me something pretty to wear beneath my blood-stained clothes (something abt this line is just very scott to me)

Lay me down Pour the dirt into our bed Tell the crows They can have their pound of flesh The ghosts at the window echo all our quiet prayers When they come for us, they'll come with hammers and nails My darling, the devil knows my name My name My name (this comes from the things i've seen about how the watchers hate scott, the watchers here symbolized as "the crows" and "the devil")

6. A Terrible Ride - Lizard Boy: this one is an animatic recommendation! here's the animatic -also i think this is applies to most of the winners very angst

I used to be calm But now this ticking bomb is gonna go off (the way he goes after ren for revenge after pearl's death)

I fought and fought hard And I could've died But I got scarred A terrible ride Ride This game was not fun I thought it was right Because I won Was it worth the fight? Fight? (WATCH THE ANIMATIC)

Written in the starss This could have been ours (what can i say, im a sucker for the star symbolism)

and that's all for scott! DL!pearl coming soon!

[prima-materia-ttrpg]

It Begins / How do I introduce over six months of development in a single post?

Salutations, I'm a gay nerd and I wanted to make a fantasy ttrpg with a setting that panders to myself and anyone else who might have my taste so here we are :)

The ttrpg in question is Prima Materia, and I've been working on it for a while and making ok progress so I figure I should probably start a devblog (that's what this is) so I can finally start sharing it rather than keeping the entire project within my own circle of friends, never seeing the light of day beyond that. Particularly because I'm finally playtesting some aspects and want to actually release it into the wild someday so people can share and play it as they please.

Ah, so you've clicked the keep reading link? OHOHO you fool I shall unleash an infodump of epic proportions onto ye!

*checks notes*

Right I should probably introduce this project in more depth and explain how I got to this point, and why I'm working on it in the first place. A chronological account should suffice.

Back in the days of yore (2020) when I was getting into ttrpgs for what would become the third time I had first gotten into them (previous times don't count), I was trying to create a setting for DND so I could become a DM for the first time, fueled by the disappointment that every other game I'd been a player in ended after about 2 sessions max. Making an entire setting is of course not recommended for first time DMs, particularly ones that ever want to play the game, but of course this did not dissuade me for I am built different [incorrectly].

I built a tidally locked planet for that campaign, filled it with lore and towns and cities and an apocalypse that happened some time in the past. All was well, and the campaign lasted about a year before the holiday season came and caused it to dissipate. Reduced to atoms. By that point I had been homebrewing creatures and items for my homebrewed setting, including new playable species and subclasses. Homebrew is like a glue trap, and brother, I'm a dead rat.

After that campaign ended the OGL scandal hit (among many other things I won't go into depth about) and I saw the need to create for myself a place where I can always and forever write fun stuff to share with others, in a system that I have control over. After all, integrating the system and the setting, building them explicitly to serve each other, would allow for much more creativity.

That setting still exists on my hard drive, and while I do import some of my original work for it into Prima Materia's setting from time to time, it is dead and shall remain dead until such a time I can completely re-write it to make sense in Prima Materia. But it's so ingrained with DNDs lore that it honestly would be more like an homage to the original campaign I had with my friends.

So, I got to work. I started, of course, with watching a million videos on the subject of making a ttrpg and not actually writing anything down. But eventually, an eternity later, I was ready. I started doing some science-adjacent worldbuilding to build the initial planet for the setting, in which the initial setting would be. I created continents that looked mildly plausible, charted out ocean gyres, wind patterns, and finally climates. This continued for a while, and I made the playable species and started figuring out where on the continents they would have evolved so I could figure out what their cultures would eventually be in the modern day after 10,000 years of history.

In short, I had worldbuilder's disease; and while I did make some decent progress on mechanics like dice rolling, some combat, skills, attributes and stats, it started coming to a head when I convinced myself that I needed to make a minimum of five conlangs in order to name seven continents (and various cities).

Enter stage left, one of my friends who thinks my project is cool but recognizes that I am not getting much done. This friend, Spinz (who I hear has their own project coming down the pipeline by the way >w>), has become my Screamer of Tasks and is reminding me of the important things to focus on to actually make the ttrpg a reality some time in this millennium. Thanks to their help, I've been able to get to the stage where I am able to inflict my project onto my friends so that I may playtest mechanics and generally have an otherwise fun time with them.

So what actually is the setting? That seems like a lot of buildup and waffling.

True! I felt it was important to explain where the project is coming from. As for the setting itself, I don't think I can do better than the introduction I already wrote for it in the PDF. So here's that.

After several hundreds of trillions of years the last known natural stars in the universe began to die, heralding the end of the stelleriferous period and the start of a new age full of the neutron cores and black holes they left behind. But the gods this universe spawned would not let their mother die so soon. They created new stars fueled by their own Prima Materia, the building block from which all other substance comes; a pure marriage between matter, energy, time, and thought through which the manipulation and creation of physics itself is possible.

The gods created massive bodies for themselves in orbit around their stars. Some fell into a deep sleep, some are content to watch as the eons of time give way to the fruits of their labor. Others still engage in grandiose projects of a more personal nature. But they all continue the work which allows for life to once again evolve in the small pockets of the universe which now continue to defy entropy, a constant stream of Prima Materia flowing from their bodies into the stars that they orbit. Some day, they too will reach the stars.

But that's old news, and there are none left alive to remember it but the gods themselves. In the world of Prima Materia, you play as a relatively normal sapient creature in a smaller corner of reality that has much smaller problems to contend with. Brigands, societal clashes, ancient ruins, dragons, and the wayward extra-universal threat to the planet. Many societies have also been able to harness certain powers of now free-floating Prima Materia through a process often known as "Alchemy." Alchemy, an involved study which requires just as much craftsmanship as it does ingenuity, has opened up an entirely new science for societies to develop in this age of the universe.

Who will you be? What legends will be written in your name?

There are several playable species in the setting, all of which have various distinct cultures. Koura, which are basically giant lobsters; Sepia, which are basically giant Cuttlefish; Humans, which are basically giant chimpanzees; Entari, which are strange bird pterodactyl things with feathers (they're hard to explain but I will get art I promise); Xente, which are basically giant amoeba (ones that can change their shape to be humanoid of course, what even would be the point if they couldn't); Possum, which are basically... bipedal possums and Ternaki which are basically short technicolor space elves (They believe in God). All of these species will get their very own blog post of course, but this post is hugely long and I'm getting worried about people getting bored so that's all for now.

In the future blog posts won't be this long I promise (hopefully) and they'll be a lot more focused on one thing. This blog is meant to record the development process, write down a lot of worldbuilding that has lived only in my head for too long, and link to playtests.

If you made it this far, holy crap you read a lot of my shenanigans thank you for your time I am indebted to you, truly. The next post will be about Dice Mechanics. Bye.

P.S. If you want to ask questions about Prima Materia (or me) you can send me an ask on my main blog @girlcodedcreature

[roomwithanopenfire]

An Ask Game for Writers to Procrastinate Working on Your WIP(s)

I'm really late but this is such a fun idea to just do the whole ask game at once instead of crossing your fingers and hoping for asks. Thanks for tagging me @shrekgogurt @run-for-chamo-miles @valeffelees @prettygoododds and @monbons, I really enjoyed learning more about your wips!

🦈 Tell us the name of one of your WIP(s)

Proof of Life is the one I'm currently posting, and then I have my COBB fic that I've been severely neglecting.

🍄 Describe one of your WIPs in the format of “___ + ___ =___”  

angsty Baz + protective Simon = the self indulgent fic of my dreams

🌍 What tags or warnings will your WIP(s) need if you intend to share it?

Idk if theres any super specific warnings, it's kind of an angst fic all around and like Baz goes through it, angst, emotional abuse, and Baz's kidnapping

🧭 An alternative title to one of your WIP(s)?

Proof of Life has 3 different parts to it and I briefly considered splitting it up into 3 parts which would have been called (in order) Before the First Light, Sun Coming Up, and Colour Erupts.

⚠️ Which WIP you’re most likely to finish or update next?

New Proof of Life chapter coming tomorrow, I have the draft all made easy to post from vacation.

💾 What is the document of your WIP called? (Not the story title, but what you’ve saved it as.)

It's Proof of Life Draft Two but draft one is still called Snowbaz Long Oneshot (its over 75k).

🖍 Post any sentence from your WIP

The Catacombs were dark, damp, and cold, a verifiable maze of tunnels, and—like my mother had said—a breeding ground for rats.

♻️ A scrapped idea for your current WIP

There's only one big scrapped idea but telling you about that would be spoilers. But originally the one thing was going to be an open ended oneshot which definitely didn't happen, sooo, maybe that counts as a scrapped idea

🤔 What’s a story you’d love to write but haven’t even started yet?

So many. I have a like Rapunzel type/Royal AU I've been rotating in my brain and with my Natasha Lives AU I've been thinking "What would have happened if Natasha lived AND was Turned?" so I'll probably do something with that some time.

🤡 How many WIPs are you actively working on?

Proof of Life and my COBB fic for Snowbaz, and then an exchange fic and big bang fic for a different fandom (stranger things)

🛠 Is there a scene or anything in the WIP you are struggling with right now?

I signed up for too many things so maybe a little bit of struggle with balancing everything but once school's done for the summer in four ish weeks I'll have so much time to catch up

❤️ Not a question, just a second kudos to send.

🥰🥰🥰

Not tagging anyone because I'm so late and I'm sure most everyone has already done this but if you haven't please consider this your tag, I'd love to see it!!

[sneezingfetishftw-wavs]

I made a wav of chapter 1 of my Vox sickfic! This doesn't include the narration: fic linked here or you can keep reading for the fic copied under the cut. I added a slight robot voice effect to the sneezes and coughs, plus there's the sound of Vox's fans (which is the real sound of my laptop fan lmao) - let me know if you'd like to hear a version without these effects.

If there's enough interest I might do more chapters. The main limitation is I don't sneeze a lot even with inducing - these sneezes are compiled from like 5 different sessions smh. (So if a wav where I don't actually include the sneezes, or I reuse sneeze audio I've used before, is of interest to you then definitely let me know cause doing the voices is fun)

“Why are the lights so fucking bright in here? Are you trying to give me a headache?” Vox was often a bit of an insufferable prick, but today he was far worse than usual. His interview for Voxtech Angelic Security was just an hour away and he’d already managed to insult pretty much everyone in the room. The lights dimmed, he returned to a previous complaint. “And why haven’t you turned the AC colder already? It’s like a sauna in here!”

“The AC is already as cold as it goes, sir.”

“Then fix it! God, what am I even paying you for?” He paused, then pulled out his cell phone. “Hey Val, are you free right now? I got an employee I’d like you to knock some sense into—or rip the limbs off of, whichever you prefer. I could do it myself, but I know how much you enjoy that thing.”The employee shuddered. “Great, thanks! See you soon.”

Vox looked around. “Where is my water bottle? There should be one on the interviewing desk. Is anyone around here doing their goddamn job?” Another employee rushed over with a water bottle. “Finally.” He took a sip and immediately grimaced. “Where did you get this? Normal water doesn’t scrape my throat like that! Disgusting.” He threw the water bottle aside, pausing only to make sure the lid was on first.

He took a deep breath, which immediately triggered a coughing fit, his voice crackling like a broken speaker. His screen went grey and fuzzy, static flaring with each cough. “Who did the last maintenance on the filtration system?” A sheepish woman stepped forward. “Fix it! Actually, no. Get out. You’re fired. The air is so thick in here I can hardly breathe.” She hung her head and wandered off. It wasn’t like she was the first to be fired on a whim, and at least Vox didn’t literally tear people apart. “I’ll take a look at it along with the AC, then, sir,” the employee from earlier offered.

“You’d better. But don’t think that’s enough to save you,” Vox said, standing so close the employee could hardly hear anything over the fan. “Val’s still on his way.” The employee gulped.

Valentino began shivering the moment he stepped in the door, but he ignored that and made a beeline for Vox. “Where’s the victim?” he asked with a grin.

Vox pointed to the man cowering in the corner. “He won’t fix the AC.” Val nodded, still shivering. “He says it’s already as cold as it can go, but I’m boiling here!” Val raised an eyebrow at that. A loud whirring started as Vox’s fans kicked in.

Val put a hand on Vox’s forehead, and jerked it away almost immediately. “Amorcito, you’re incredibly hot!”

“Save it for later, Val,” Vox chuckled.

“No, I mean it’s hard to believe how much you’re overheating. And in a freezing room, no less. I thought my hand was going to burn!” Vox crossed his arms and shook his head. “I mean it, Vox, you’re obviously running a fever!”

“Shut up. I’m fi… hi…” his screen flickered with each hitch. “Hi’tzzzcht! Fine.”

“Sir?” The employee raised a finger tentatively, regaining some boldness now that neither of them was ripping him apart. “One of the lights just broke.”

“Why the fuck are you telling me? Just fix it! Ugh, it’s a wonder anything gets done around here.” He gave a long sniff, trying to stave off the buzzing tickle. “And send a cleaning crew in. It’s way too du… huh… huh… hut’TZZZZSHT! Dusty in here.”

“We just cleaned yesterday…” the employee said weakly, trying not to look at the speaker that had just popped.

“I didn’t ask you when the last cleaning was, I asked you to clean the damn studio! Now get on with it before I change my mind and let Val rip your arms off.”

“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.” The employee practically ran off to begin his tasks as Val gave a toothy grin, looking menacing despite the intense shivering.

“There you go. I’ll be back here for the sound check. And this place better be fucking spotless.”

Vox and Val walked out the door. “I’ll catch you at the penthouse,” Vox said, activating his teleportation powers. He only made it a few feet. “Hhh’dzzzzcht!” The hallway lights flickered.

“How about we walk together?” Val offered, wrapping his arm around Vox. Vox sighed, but it wasn’t like he had a choice. Repeatedly teleporting a few feet at a time sounded even more annoying than walking. While they walked, Val pulled out his phone with his free hand to text Velvette. “Meet at the penthouse ASAP.”

Velvette almost dropped her phone when she saw the pair of them walk through the door. “Walk” was actually a bit of an overstatement. Vox was practically staggering, leaning heavily on Val for support. His screen was dimmed, except for a bright spot in the center where his nose would be, if he had one. His fans were still whirring loudly. His normally immaculate suit was wrinkled, as if he’d crumpled in on himself repeatedly. The man was, quite obviously, a mess.

Velvette stared in silence for a moment. “Wow. He really does look awful, doesn’t he?”

Vox glared. “I’m fine. I’m just taking a quick break before the studio’s ready for my interview. Those morons still have a lot to set up.” The pair stared at him.

“Um, Vox? You sure now is the best time for an interview?” Velvette asked.

“I’m fine,” he insisted, his hypnotic eye swirling so slowly it might as well be a broken Ferris wheel.

“Right,” Velvette said, rolling her eyes as Vox’s screen flickered again. “Totally fine, and definitely not about to sneeze.”

“I’m not going to… hih’tzzzzch!” He opened his mouth to protest more, but no sound came out. Damn it, were his audio drivers glitching too? Or was it just his vocal cords? He smacked the side of his head with a grimace. “The interview has to be today. If I delay it, it’ll look like we’re hiding something.” Thank god that worked. Vox without his voice was… well, he really didn’t want to think about that.

Velvette raised an eyebrow. “You literally just smacked yourself in the head cause you couldn’t talk. You really think you’re in a good state to be giving an interview?”

Vox’s screen brightened for a moment. “I’m fine! It’s fixed now.” His screen dimmed again, then started flickering. “I’m perfectly heal… heh… hhh… healthy! Just let me go to the godda… ehh… ahh… hah’TZZZZSHT! The goddamn interview.” Valentino’s phone instantly shut off. Velvette, seeing this, clutched her phone tightly to her chest.

Val tried turning his phone back on, but it was unresponsive. “You broke my phone, Vox. You broke my fucking phone! What else are you gonna break if you go back in there?”

Vox frowned. Loath as he was to admit illness, it really was in his best interest to minimize property damage. Especially with a live audience.

“I’ll do the interview,” Velvette offered.

Vox gave a laugh that quickly turned into a coughing fit, his screen a sputtering mess of static again. “No offense, Velvette, but I’m pretty sure you’re not familiar with the ins and outs of the system.”

“And I’m pretty sure you’re not recognizing you don’t have a lot of options. Would you rather send Valentino?”

The other two recoiled at the suggestion. “God, no!” Vox replied. “Ugh, I guess if you really want to, go knock yourself out. My notes are on that tah… hhh… ahh… hah… hah’TDZZZCHT! Tablet.” Said tablet was now stuck in bluescreen. “Shit.” He rubbed his aching head, trying to think.

“Are the notes backed up like the rest of your files?” Vox nodded, not even trying to speak this time. “I can pull it up on my phone, then. I’ve got this. Backbone of the Vees, remember? You just stay here and get some rest,” she said, blowing a kiss as she left.

Velvette strutted out the door, taking with her the responsibility that had been keeping Vox together, and it was like a switch had been flipped. Vox immediately plopped himself down on the couch, limbs dangling limply. “Everything huuuurts, Val.”

“I know, Amorcito, that’s why I’m here.” He gently stroked Vox’s arm. “Now, is it really everything? Or can you be a bit more specific so I can actually help you?”

Vox’s mouth moved, but no words. A frown. A throat clearing sound. More mouth movement, still no words. A deeper frown. A self-inflicted smack on the side of the head. Still no words. The fans kicked into high gear as Vox was about to spit steam out of his head.

“Shh, gentle, Voxy. Let’s try not to blow out the power grid again, hm?” Val patted Vox’s screen. “I’ll get you something for your throat.” He searched through the fridge for some Gatorade. Electrolytes had to do something for an electric being, right? In the absence of any speech from Vox, the fans were even more noticeable. Better grab a cold compress from the freezer too, then. He placed the cold pack on Vox’s screen and handed him the bottle. Vox took a sip and shook his head. His voice still failing him, Vox made images appear on the screen. Val blinked, trying to figure out what he was looking at.

“Something wrong with the drink?” A nod. “Tastes bad?” Head shake. Val tried to think what could possibly be wrong with a drink. “Too liquidy?” Vox rolled his eyes. “Wrong color?” A facepalm. “Uh… too cold?” Vigorous nodding, and then a wince and a dizzy expression. “I got it. Just rest here, Vox. I’ll find you something.”

Val returned a few minutes later with a steaming mug of tea. Vox’s screen was dim and pale, the colors washed out. His weak fingers could barely grasp the handle of the mug. “Oh, Voxy, you poor thing,” Val said, his wings wrapping around Vox for support. The steam from the drink got into Vox’s vents and his screen started flickering. Val noticed immediately and set the mug on a nearby table, holding Vox through the buildup.

“Hhh… hhhh… hhh… hhht’dzchhht! Hhhh’zzzzch! Hhh’ZZZZZSHT! Htchh’RRRRGZZZZZZT! Ugh.” The demon clawed at his throat, then paused in realization. “Fucking hell that hurt!” He winced. “Talking hurts.” Still, better to have a functioning voice, he supposed. He gestured to the mug, and Valentino handed it to him. He took a sip, grimaced, and then finished the rest of the mug in one gulp. Val surveyed the room and realized that a few of the TV screens were out. “Let’s get you into bed, hm?” Vox raised an eyebrow. “Not like that! Unless you want to, of course…” he added, licking his lips. Vox shook his head, exhausted. Val led Vox to the bedroom, the TV clinging hard to the moth as he took a few shaky steps. Val paused, then nodded to himself. He hoisted Vox over his shoulder, ignoring the spluttering protests. “Amorcito, you can barely walk. Let me carry you for a bit.”

Vox huffed, and Val felt the static shock. “You could at least have the decency to carry me like your partner instead of, I don’t know, a corpse?”

Val chuckled. “Have you seen yourself, darling? You practically are a corpse at this point.” Still, he switched to bridal carry.

After what felt like an eternity, dragged out by Vox’s complaining that he was on death’s door, they finally reached the bed. Val laid Vox down and sat next to him. “Now then, does everything still hurt? What can I get you?”Vox’s lips moved silently, then rapidly into what Val assumed to be a string of curse words. Hard to tell without audio. Val sighed. “You really are feeling awful, aren’t you?” Vox nodded. Val stared at Vox for a while until the moth’s singular brain cell finally came up with an idea. He blew a puff of smoke in Vox’s face. Vox flinched, and his screen flickered rapidly. “Hhh… hih… hhhh’dzzzzzzcht! Hih’tzzzzsh! Hah’TZZZZZCHT! TZZZSH! Tzzzsch’TZZZZZST’dzTZZZZZSSHHT! What the fuck, Val?” He rubbed his throat. “Oh. Uh… thanks, I guess? I don’t know. That fucking sucked.”

“If you’d rather not repeat that, then I suggest you get your words out now before you lose your voice again.”

Vox scowled, but he knew it was a valid point. “I just… I’m sore all over. It’s not fair! What did I do to deserve this?” Val raised a finger. “Besides everything that got me into hell.” Val shrugged. “Ugh… my throat hurts, my head hurts, all my muscles ache, there’s this constant buzzing in the back of my head that won’t go away, everythig is blisterigly warmb whatever I try… oh for fugck’s sake, I get congestiod dnow too? Ughhhh…” He groaned and rolled over, faceplanting into the bed.

Val tutted sympathetically. “You never do anything half-assed, do you?” Vox nodded, dragging his screen across the blanket. “Vox, if you’re feeling so warm, why are you still wearing all those clothes?” A pause. Vox wasn’t sure how to respond to that. “There’s no image you need to keep up right now, Vox. Let’s get you comfortable.” Vox sat up and let Val get to work. The crumpled suit was set on a nearby chair. The sweater and shirt were pulled off and tossed to the same chair, Vox dropping his arms instantly the moment he no longer needed to put in the energy to keep them up. The shoes were removed and the pants taken off and folded up with care. As soon as it was done, Vox collapsed face down into the bed again, breathing heavily from the effort.

“You said you’re sore all over, would you like a massage, Amorcito?” A thumbs up. Val got up to find the massage bar. They’d found that using a more solid form helped avoid any accidents… they did NOT need a repeat of the time poor Vox got massage oil stuck in his vents. Val began massaging Vox’s arms, but paused when he felt Vox’s shoulders shudder.

“Hhhh’dzzzzzzchmp!” The sound was muffled into the bed. Vox slowly dragged himself up until he was facing Val. “Hit’chZZZZZZZCHT!” Sparks flew from Vox’s screen and landed on Val’s arm.

“Keep your sparks to yourself, Vox!” he said, wincing at the static shock. “Hmm… that might explain the electronics failures…”

“Sorry, Val.” He said, rubbing his screen. “Wasd’t expectig it to comb that fast.” He gave a long sniff. “Hhhhh’dZZZZZZT!” He pointed at the massage bar. “Can you put that away? I think the scent is too strong right now, my sensors must be acting up.”

Val switched to an unscented massage bar and resumed the massage. A few soft moans from Vox let Val know that his attempts were effective. Eventually the sound dropped off entirely, except for the occasional sneeze, which Val assumed meant the video demon’s voice had given out again. After a while, there was no sound at all except for congested breathing. Val gently turned Vox on his back, revealing closed eyes. Val breathed a sigh of relief. The man was much less exhausting when he was unconscious. Maybe now both of them could get some rest.

[ktisherelol]

It Just Happened ~ Ricky Bowen X Reader

Summary: (You are aged up in this) You and Ricky have been friends since you were young, and you have a light crush on him. One day when he comes over, things get juicy.

Warnings: Cussing, fluff, alcohol, light smut.

Pairing: Ricky Bowen X Female reader (you can change it if you'd like).

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

"I'm bored." says Jenna, my friend since first grade. I sat down next to her, "What do you wanna do?"

"I don't know. Should we invite more people? There's nothing to do. And omg it's a great day outside." says Jenna

"Okay, I'll call Ricky." I say

"The one you kinda like?" asks Jenna

"... How do you know that?" I ask

"Your face lit up when you said Ricky."

"Well... Okay, maybe I kinda like him. But that doesn't mean I won't hang out with you."

Jenna laughs, "Come on. I'll leave, I have things to do anyway. Have fun with your boyfriend."

"Jenna..." I say

"Y/nnnnn..." says Jenna

"Stayyy." I say

"No, I will be leaving, and youu are gonna thank me and that's that! Now byeeeee!" she says and leaves before I can say anything. Well, alright then.

"Fine. Love you!" I say

"Love you, too!" she screams back. Then I call Ricky after asking my mom if he can come over, which she says he's always welcome.

"Hey, Y/n/n. What's up?" he picks up

"Hey, Ricky. Wanna come over?" I ask

"What if I'm not in Salt Lake?"

"Ricky, we both know you are, I saw you two days ago." I say

"What if I moved away?"

"You didn't."

I hear him chuckle, "Alright, fine. I'm coming give me... 10 minutes."

"Alright, byeee!" I say, then hang up.

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

After 10 minutes I hear the doorbell ring. I open it to see Ricky with a grin on his face.

"Heyy, come on in!" I say, and we go to the living room.

"How've you been?" he asks

"I've been, okay. You?" I ask

"Same here. I miss being drunk though." he says, we used to go to parties and drink almost every week. Then high school was over and we both just decided to get a job and not go to college yet.

"How long has it been since you last drank?" I ask

"Eh. About a month." he says

"Wow... How did you survive?" I ask

"I just did..." he says, then sees an alcohol bottle on one of the tables that my brother just forgot to put away after his 'experiment'... Don't ask, "Ooo!" he tries to grab the bottle and opens it, but I stop him before he does.

"Ricky, no." I say, and grab the bottle away from him, kind of spilling it.

"What? I was just gonna drink a little bit." he says

"I don't care. Don't drink right now." I say, as I grab a towel to clean the mess Ricky made me do.

"Fine." he says as he watches me clean it. After I'm done cleaning the table, I clean the bottle as well in case it spilled on it. As I close the cap and make sure it's tight I feel Ricky put his head on my shoulder, and his arms around my waist, "Whatchu doing?" I try and hide my blush.

"Hm, you're warm." he says in a childish voice.

"Alright." I say, "I need to put the bottle away, though."

"Just put it on the table where you found it." he says, I guess it makes sense. My brother needs to learn to clean after himself anyway.

"Alright, fine." I say putting the bottle back on the table. That's when I realized that Ricky smelled... Different. Is he wearing cologne?

"Hey, when did you start wearing cologne--" I started as I turned around but got cut off by his lips smashing on mine. His arms never leaving my waist.

I pull away, "Are you sure you're not drunk..?"

"Yeah." he says, as he kisses me again. I don't say anything, just kiss back and put my arms around his neck.

I feel him sit down on the couch and get me on his lap as he pulls me closer. He pulls me so close that... Omg... I can feel it. I can feel his... Uh... You know...

It's getting harder by the second. He starts to kiss down my neck which gives me a chance to speak, "Ricky, what's gotten into you?"

"Do you know how hot you look right now?" he asks, stopping and looking at me. What does he mean? I'm just wearing a little oversized t-shirt and shorts.

"I'm just wearing a t-shirt." I chuckle

"Well, you always look hot to me anyway." he says. Is he really sure he isn't drunk?

"No, Y/n. I'm not drunk." he says, shit, did I say that out loud?

"No, you didn't say it out loud, I just know what you're thinking." he says, I mean true he's known me since first grade.

"Exactly." he says

"Okay, stop reading my thoughts." I say as I reposition myself on his lap because I was kind of crooked. He pulls me closer as I do so.

"Ricky, I don't know if you're in the right mind. You may not be drunk, but you're not thinking straight." I say

"I am. Y/n, I've liked you since... I don't even know, it's been a while. But you haven't paid attention to me at all, so I tried to date Alyssa and other girls to distract myself but they never got me the way you did. The way you do. The only reason I tried something today was because Jenna told me you kinda like me." he says

"Jenna said what?" I ask

He chuckles, "Was she right? I-is she right?"

I look him in the eyes trying to pull a prank on him. His slight smile faded, "Oh... Well, alright then. Sorry." he said as he tried to get up.

Then I smirk, "She's right. Don't worry." then I kissed him again, making him moan. I felt him harden even more under me, and he pulled me closer, grinding me on him.

"Want to take this upstairs?" he asks

I smirk, "Sure."

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

The second we enter my room he closes the door and locks it, pinning me against the wall and pulling me close as he kisses me. My hands travel around his neck, then as one hand stays there just tugging on his hair, the other travels down to his chest, to his waist, and then I grab his crotch. I just feel how hard it is for a second and make a memory of its shape. He groans and pushes me on the bed, pinning my arms above me.

He kisses me again, grinding onto me making the both of us moan. I take off his shirt as he takes off mine. I take a moment to look at his abs, holy shit they're insane. I feel them as he kisses my chest after a moment of looking at them with lust.

His kisses trail down to my stomach, and to my thighs, before he gets to that one spot, he looks up at me asking for permission. But I smirked and flipped us around, "You've had your fun. Now, it's my turn."

He smirks as I started to kiss him again, then start to kiss his neck.

"That's too bad. I wanted to taste you." he groans.

"You'll taste me some other day." I say as I start trailing kisses down his stomach, feeling his strong muscles, and then stop as I come across his boxers. I look up to him for permission to take them off, but he just smirks and flips us around like I did to him, "Some other time, babe."

His hand then reaches into my panties, and starts drawing circles on my clit, "Wow... All this for me?"

I chuckle, "Looks like it." he then inserts a finger in me, causing me to moan as he moves his finger in and out, then inserting another one.

"Ricky..." I say

"Hm?" he says

"I need you." I say

"Need me to do what?" he smirks

"I need you inside me." I say

"As you wish." he says, then takes off his boxers, revealing his hard and red member. Without a second thought, he positions his member to my entrance, and slides it in.

It doesn't hurt as much, because I was really horny and wet. But I've heard that normally it does hurt if this is your first time.

"Holy shit. You're so tight. How are you so tight?" asks Ricky.

"Cause this is my first time." I say, trying not to moan.

"Same here." he says

"Really?" I ask surprised.

"Yeah. Why are you so surprised?" he asks

"I don't know. I mean, look at you..." I say

"Aww, you're too cute. I wouldn't rather do this with anyone but you." he says, as he gets faster. And faster. And even faster.

My hands dig into my back, moans fill the room. And after a while we both release as Ricky pulls out.

"Holy... Fuck..." he says while catching his breath.

"Indeed..." I say, he looks at me, "Please tell me we're dating now."

I smirk, "We are."

"I love you."

"I love you, too."

[altocat]

I wouldn’t put this in the tag, but why do certain people in this fandom get so mad when Seph gets any form of humanization so much?? Keeping a bunch of his background a mystery is a reasonable request absolutely, but why is it so bad to see him emote and have connections and deal with shit before his downfall?

Why is it so bad to add to the subtle and delicate writing that surrounds his “fallen angel” arc? I mean, do people want a smirky, one-dimensional villain forever? (Not that he ever was one-dimensional anyway but apparently some think he was).

No villain should just be evil for no reason, and if we want their reasons to be a little mysterious, that is entirely able to be done without stripping them of their emotions or tragedy. Everyone’s favorite villains have carefully crafted downfalls and often there is tragedy and misunderstanding involved.

Seph is an absolutely iconic villain and deserves more of this treatment. He is frankly, overdue for some humanization that isn’t bound to the limits of an older game like Crisis Core that often suffered from a lack of deeper exposition or elaboration. He’s earned it after being a terrifying, mysterious villain for so long.

Just a touch of it doesn’t ruin anything. The writers seem to be treating it with care and delicacy so far, which is good. That’s what we need.

Anyway, sorry for the rant. Twitter is getting on my nerves because people are saying things like “He better just stay crazy and enjoy burning shit for no reason.” and accusing people that disagree of “not actually being a true fan of the character.” (As if Crisis Core didn’t already make him more sympathetic!!)

(I’m also not using his full name so that this doesn’t show up in anyone’s search results if you don’t want to draw any contention. Cheers).

Pure evil villains are boring, unless it's full camp or they're having fun and it's delicious to watch.

I think people aren't paying attention to context. This isn't CURRENT Sephiroth, this is Sephiroth as a child. If he was always evil and always sadistic, it would take away a lot of the message the original game was trying to convey with him--Sephiroth is the product of SHINRA, the product of immoral ethics, war, and greed. Sephiroth was a normal baby given abnormal enhancement, shoved into extremely traumatic rules and expectations, and subsequently loses everything that ever made him human in a mad quest for revenge and control. To say Sephiroth was evil from the moment he was born is a HUGE disservice to his character, and his story as a whole. Sephiroth is a monster. But he is the monster Shinra created.

Now do I think Sephiroth should be redeemed? No, probably not. It's not about his journey back into the light, it's about his descent into darkness. That's what makes his character interesting. For the record, I don't want them to woobie him either. Part of the reason I find those Disney Remakes insufferable is how they take fun villains (Cruella, Maleficent) and try to make them all weepy and sympathetic. THOSE are villains where being pure evil works. It's entertaining. Their evilness is infectious. They're chewing the scenery and it's great. They're nasty little shits and they ENJOY it and they're cartoony enough to where you don't have to take it seriously. Sephiroth is a completely different beast, with an actual message to his story.

I've always found serious pure-evil villains completely uninteresting because there's no layers to them. No pathos. No depth. Part of having a good villain is looking into their eyes and seeing something of yourself in there. YOU could be that. YOU could become that. These are moral lessons for adults as they try to navigate a confusing and unfriendly world. You shouldn't turn into this because, in the end, succumbing to anger and hate ISN'T good. It ISN'T healthy. And these villains, at the end of the day, are extremely unhappy people who bring about their own destruction. You lose that when they're just a smirking sadistic killing machine. It's an empty husk that just exists for the heroes to defeat. I'd like to think that Sephiroth is more than that, and has always been more than that.

Anyway, rant over. Twitter is dumb, hence why I'm not on it. I'll agree with them if the Remake Trilogy attempts at a redemption arc and it's clumsy and unjustified. But this? A tragic Seph backstory was always a given when you look at the lore. So long as they go about it in a balanced morally gray way, it fits very well with his character.