vannen

@vannen

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Bluesky

gay

Ist das dein Profil?Übernimm es — dann gehört dir vannen.dirty.social.Profil übernehmen

vannen@vannen· 21d

#dimileth | #wip Byleth Bash approaches!! 🎈 A WIP for Ashen Wolves day 💜 Yuri helps the professor out with the romantic questions in the advice box... (wow I wonder who this mysterious person could be 🤭)

Helping out with the advice box certainly hadn’t been what he expected when he’d offered her a favour in exchange for helping with the scorpion gang, but Yuri had to admit this was far more entertaining than anything he could have imagined. Not to mention, a lot of these little nobles weren’t exactly good at hiding their identities. Some of the embarrassing knowledge he was gathering was quite interesting, to say the least.

Take the next question, for example. Yuri smiled at the familiar writing, but his grin only widened when he skimmed the content. Oh, this was going to be good.

“Hey friend. I think I’ll need your help with this one,” Yuri said innocently. Byleth lowered her pen to give him her full attention. It was sweet, really, how seriously she took her duties. “Ahem. There is a member of staff who I admire greatly,” he read, resisting the urge to laugh. “Yet my friends insist upon teasing me with inappropriate comments about my interest, merely because she happens to be a woman.” He paused to meet the professor’s eyes. “Huh. Any idea who they might be talking about?”

Byleth shrugged. “There are many women on staff.”

vannen@vannen· 26d

wow...I hate it 😂

Pantone birth chart palette meme. Gemini Sun (Lemon Signal), Gemini Moon (Pale Citron), Libra Rising (Airy Peony), Cancer Venus (Pearl Blush)

vannen@vannen· 27d

#dimileth | #wip another wip for @dimilethgarden.bsky.social 💐 Byleth has her first dance at the masquerade...

As a new song began, Felix pulled her into position—technically. Rather than the way the other couples danced, bodies brushing together, he held her at a distance that went beyond polite. It was almost enough to make Byleth laugh. No one would be accusing them of a secret love affair, not when she could barely reach his shoulder.

It didn’t take long for him to make his motivations known. “I thought the old man was bad, but that hag is a thousand times worse,” Felix complained. He glowered at a short woman in a snow leopard mask watching them from the sidelines. Her crossed arms and confrontational stance would have made her identity clear even if her dress hadn’t been covered in the Crest of Fraldarius. “She has a whole list of women she wants me to dance with. Flighty things from Adrestia who’ve never even held a weapon in their lives.” He scoffed. “As if I would ever be interested in the boar’s leftovers—”

Felix flinched at his own words. It was a sign of how much he’d grown that he now looked away guiltily, instead of pressing on without a care for his companion’s feelings.

vannen@vannen· 29d

and another really random change?? I would translate as: "…You're looking happy. Did I say something strange?" but the official translation drops the second part of her line. Doesn't really make a difference, just one of those moments that makes me go huh???

vannen@vannen· 29d

A slightly confusing change follows. I would translate the line as something like "Okay, that's enough. We're not children, so let's end this pointless competition." The official English drops the "not children" part...an odd choice imo, since Lys is quite obsessed with that

Lysithea: OK, OK. That's enough. We could do this forever, but we've got better things to do.

Lysithea: はい、おしまい。子供じゃないんですから、不毛な勝負はやめましょう。

vannen@vannen· 29d

I really like how they translated this part in English, but the Japanese is really cute too. With each line, they add another motto (more), until Annette is literally just saying "motto motto motto motto" (the voice line is cute!! houses.fedatamine.com/ja/supports/...)

Lysithea: But I'm not so sure anymore. I have to work even harder to keep pace with you!
Annette: Oh no! But then I'll have to work extra, extra hard to keep up with you!
Lysithea: Well, if you work extra, extra hard, I'll need to work super duper extra hard!
Annette: Aw, come on! Fine. Super duper quadruple extra hard it is!

リシテア: アネットにも負けないとは言い切れません。わたしも、もっと努力しないと……。

アネット: なら、あたしはもっともっと努力しないとリシテアに追いつけないじゃない。

リシテア: アネットがもっともっと努力するならわたしはもっともっともっと努力します。

アネット: ええー、何それ！じゃあ、もっともっともっともっと！

vannen@vannen· Jul 13

normally I like to put flower accessories on my dmlths, but the academy hat looks really cute with this outfit...

FEH screenshot. Duo Byleth/Corrin, with female Byleth wearing male Byleth's academy hat.

vannen@vannen· Jul 10

got him on the free summon! 💜💜💜

FEH screenshot. Summer Yuri being summoned.

vannen@vannen· Jul 8

#dimileth | #wip wip for this year's Dimileth Garden Gala 🤭

Under the reverent eyes of the nobility and clergy, the king and the archbishop exchanged greetings. She thanked him for the invitation to the ball. He expressed gratitude that she had honoured him with acceptance. They spoke with such formal cordiality that no one could doubt the rumours from the war were anything but idle gossip.

Still smiling, the king led the archbishop down the waiting line, introducing each of his advisors and council members, until they reached the young woman at the end. Dark-haired and pretty, she lowered her eyes modestly at the archbishop’s approach, a lovely blush lighting up her face.

Only those closest to the king would have noticed the way his composure wavered. “May I present the Lady Marta von Menja to the attention of Your Grace,” he said, gallant smile fixed in place.

The king did not introduce the lady as his betrothed. He did not need to. Though the engagement was not yet official, everyone knew that the announcement was to be made at the ball that night.

The archbishop allowed her to take her hand, an honour bestowed only upon royalty. “The flow of time has brought us together,” she said with perfect serenity. “May the Goddess watch over you.”

There was only one person who could see the cracks in her mask.

vannen@vannen· Jul 7

YAY!!! 🥰

vannen@vannen· Jul 6

FEH yet again grouping f!Byleth in with the Blue Lion girls 🤭

(blurry) screenshot from Fire Emblem Heroes video showing f!Byleth with Mercedes and Annette

vannen@vannen· Jul 1

#feartscuffle | #fic Here's the final collection of everything I wrote for this year's scuffle 💖 I thought I wouldn't be able to write as much this year, yet somehow I wrote more 🤭 archiveofourown.org/works/858787...

Ao3 preview. As Swift As Wind by vannen. Rated T. Complete.

Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses, Fire Emblem: Rekka no Ken | Fire Emblem: Blazing Sword, Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening, Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates, Fire Emblem Musou: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem Warriors: Three Hopes

Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/My Unit | Byleth; Linhardt von Hevring/Lysithea von Ordelia; Kent/Lyn (Fire Emblem); Marianne von Edmund/Hilda Valentine Goneril; Annette Fantine Dominic/Felix Hugo Fraldarius; Chrom/My Unit | Robin (Fire Emblem); Jeritza von Hrym/My Unit | Byleth; My Unit | Kamui | Corrin/Suzukaze | Kaze; Ferdinand von Aegir/Dorothea Arnault; Say'ri/Tiki (Fire Emblem); Sylvain Jose Gautier/Bernadetta von Varley; Eliwood/Ninian (Fire Emblem); Petra Macneary/Dedue Molinaro; Chrom & Lucina (Fire Emblem); Ashe Duran | Ashe Ubert/Petra Macneary; Mercedes von Martritz/Dedue Molinaro; Dorothea Arnault/Edelgard von Hresvelg;

FE Art Scuffle 2026; additional tags at the start of each chapter

A collection of one-shots written for the Fire Emblem Art Scuffle 2026. Tags, warnings, and pairings will be listed at the start of each chapter. Tagged ships have at least one dedicated chapter.

vannen@vannen· Jul 1

#edelthea | #FE3H | #fic final attack for #feartscuffle 💖⚔️

“Is this right, Edie?”

Dorothea looked at her hopefully, hand clenched tight around the hilt of her training sword. Edelgard couldn’t help but smile. Dorothea was skilled in many ways, but evidently swordsmanship was not yet among her talents. She was working hard to improve herself however, and that was all that really mattered.

“You need to loosen your grip,” Edelgard said, demonstrating with her own sword. Dorothea looked on with interest. “Flexibility is key to fighting with a sword. Keep your hand and wrist loose enough to adjust grips as needed.”

“Right, yes.” Dorothea opened her hand until only her fingertips held the hilt. “Like this?”

Edelgard allowed herself a chuckle. “Not quite. Here, look.” She took a step closer so that Dorothea could see her hand. “Press your thumb against the hilt firmly. It will keep the blade in place.”

Dorothea fiddled with the sword for a few moments before groaning in frustration. “Can you show me, Edie?” she asked, her lovely eyes wide and earnest. “I’d love a hands-on lesson.”

“Of course.” It was easy enough to adjust Dorothea’s grip. Edelgard smiled in satisfaction at the sight of her perfectly positioned hand.

“Oh, thank you.” Dorothea leaned in. “You really are skilled with your hands, Edie.”

She was…rather close, Edelgard suddenly realized. And her hand still lingered on Dorothea’s wrist, fingers curled around her soft skin. Warmth spread through her body as the other woman smiled, coy and flirtatious and…

Edelgard did not blush. As the future emperor, she refused to allow such a thing to happen. Instead, she released Dorothea’s wrist calmly and took a few steps back, raising her sword.

“Now that you have the correct grip,” Edelgard began briskly. “I will show you the first basic swing. Watch closely.”

Dorothea obeyed, studying her with an intensity that might have made a lesser person blush.

“Hm. I think I get it,” Dorothea said after a few minutes. She lifted her sword. “I swing it like—this!”

Before Edelgard could react, Dorothea lunged forward. Her movements were elegant, almost as if she were dancing, but her graceful strikes were far more deadly. In mere seconds, Edelgard found herself disarmed with a sword tip pressed dramatically to her heart.

Dorothea smiled. “Oh my! It must be beginner’s luck,” she said innocently, even as her poise betrayed years of sword training.

Edelgard wanted to be angry. She hated to be made a fool of, and it was abundantly clear that Dorothea had no need of her lesson. And yet it was hard to feel anything when her heart was racing and her face burned, her mind entirely consumed by the memory of how striking Dorothea had looked in the moment—how gorgeous, how powerful, she was now, flush with victory…

Dorothea lowered her sword, smiling like she could read Edelgard’s thoughts. “I really enjoy these lessons with you, Edie. I’ve learned so much.” She winked. “Shall we meet again tomorrow?”

Edelgard raised her chin, imperious despite her blush. “Yes. Although next time, you will not find me such an easy opponent.”

No. Next time she would be the victor standing tall, Dorothea flustered beneath her sword.

The very thought made her grin.

vannen@vannen· Jul 1

#mercedue | #FE3H | #fic some mercedue fluff this fine Deduesday 🍰 #feartscuffle

“Happy birthday, Dedue!” Mercedes was smiling even more cheerfully than normal, a cake held proudly in her hands. “Here’s a present, just for you!”

Dedue hesitated awkwardly in the door to his room. He wanted to protest. To warn her about acting friendly to a man of Duscur. To tell her that he didn’t want gifts, or to celebrate. To find any excuse not to eat some heavy, overly sweet cake from Faerghus (he still shuddered to think of the sugary monstrosity she’d made for Annette).

But then he noticed the familiar smell.

“It took a while to find a recipe,” Mercedes continued blithely. “I had to read oh so many books! But here you go—my attempt at a traditional Duscur nut cake!”

It had been years since he’d last tasted a nut cake. Moist and flavourful, soaked in honey with a sprinkle of spices, every bite infused with memories…

Swallowing thickly, Dedue took the cake from her hands. His mouth watered even as heat prickled briefly at the back of his eyes. “Thank you, Mercedes,” he said, bowing low. He wanted to say something more, to communicate just how deeply he appreciated the gesture. Words didn’t come easily, but perhaps actions would. “Would you…like to eat it?” Dedue paused, face warming. “…Together?”

Mercedes beamed, eye twinkling with merriment. “Why of course, Dedue! I thought you’d never ask!”

vannen@vannen· Jun 30

#ferdithea | #FE3H | #fic An angsty reunion between Ferdinand and Dorothea at the Bridge of Myrddin... (also Byleth's there 🧍‍♀️) archiveofourown.org/works/858787...

Chapter 16:
Ferdinand/Dorothea for dimilethoe

Tags: Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Reunited, Pining, Azure Moon Route, Temporary Character Death, Outsider POV, background Dimitri/f!Byleth

Weak Point: Men yearning in any way, shape, or form

Summary: On the Great Bridge of Myrddin, two lovers reunite.

vannen@vannen· Jun 29

#dimileth | #FE3H | #fic forgot to post this one last night 🤭 Byleth gets a glimpse of the past #feartscuffle

“You miss the Dimitri you once knew? Hah! That prince never existed, Professor. He was nothing more than an empty shell of a man, clinging desperately to a mask…”

…

“Professor!”

Byleth was lying on the ground when she woke. Someone rolled her onto her back, pressing a shaking hand to her pulse. “Professor, can you hear me?”

She knew that voice.

“Dimitri…?” she murmured, opening her eyes. Dimitri’s frantic face hovered before her, but it was not the tortured, one-eyed prince she saw.

“Thank the goddess you are awake!” The sincerity in his pale blue eyes was astounding. “Still, Professor Manuela simply must look you over.”

Byleth shook her head weakly, struggling to understand what was happening. “I’m fine.”

“You are most certainly not fine!” he protested. “You collapsed without warning, Professor. I cannot allow you to go unattended.”

Before she could argue, the prince slipped his arms beneath her legs and back, lifting her with casual ease. Byleth let her protests fade away, too absorbed in watching him.

She watched him in the rush to the infirmary, his face creased with concern. She watched as he hovered over Manuela, until the healer lost patience and batted him away. She watched as he fussed over her pillows, and brewed her tea, and held her hand as she drifted off to sleep.

When she woke, Byleth was curled up on a pew in the ruined cathedral. Dimitri lurked a few paces away, head bowed as he argued with people who did not exist.

She studied his hunched posture and limp hair, and the dull metal of his black armour. All so different from the bright-eyed prince in her dream.

When she rose, Dimitri glowered at her over his shoulder. “You certainly slept long enough,” he sneered. “Go to the infirmary if you’re ill. I have no use for an invalid.”

Byleth left without a word, deep in thought. The Dimitri that she once knew…

There had been darkness in his eyes, but the sincerity of his heart was true. She had seen that clearly in her dream (her memory? Her leap through time?).

Byleth paused on the cathedral’s bridge, gazing up at the night sky. It was dark, but for the thin sliver of a waxing moon.

Dimitri was wrong about his past self. And she would prove that he was wrong about the present too.

vannen@vannen· Jun 28

#dimileth | #FE3H | #fic this time, a series of drabbles inspired by tachiloltachi's art 💙💚 one for each route #feartscuffle yet again...major character death warning (it's okay though, only the AM timeline is real 🥺)

He was faster than she remembered. Stronger too. They had sparred more than once at the academy, but Byleth realized this was the first time he wasn’t holding back.

They called him the Tempest King. But he was still hopelessly soft-hearted.

He hesitated before inflicting the final blow, and that pause was all she needed.

The Ashen Demon felt nothing. Byleth faded into the dark.

He dragged himself forward, even as another lance pierced his side. There was no other choice. He had to keep fighting, had to keep killing, until the dead were avenged.

Dimitri didn’t notice when he fell.

The voices quieted. The sun faded from the sky. All colour left the world, save a flash of green in the distance.

He closed his eye.

It was just a dream.

Byleth supposed that must be true. Everyone had told her so with such confidence, pity in their eyes. Even Dedue had said the prince was dead.

She kept the flowers that he’d left behind in her room, and dreamed.

Though the years passed, the flowers never faded.

The white stone of Fhirdiad glowed in the moonlight, bright enough that one might have thought it day.

Dimitri held his beloved close. Once, he’d never thought to feel such peace again. Once, he’d been eager to toss away his life.

Byleth took his hand, their rings reflecting the light. Neither spoke.

There was no need for words when they had each other.

vannen@vannen· Jun 28

#dimileth | #FE3H | #fic and an arranged marriage AU 💙💚 #feartscuffle

As the vessel of the goddess, Byleth had never been expected to marry.

As a strange, too silent woman who unsettled everyone around her, she’d never thought that anyone would want to.

But time flowed in unexpected ways. With the empire declaring war on the church, their only hope of survival was to ensure the kingdom remained a loyal ally. And the surest way to bind the young king to their cause was through a bond of blood.

It felt like only yesterday that the rapid negotiations had begun, but now Byleth stood before the door to the royal ballroom in Fhirdiad, her new husband at her side. The guests waited within, eager for the royal couple to enter and open the wedding ball with their first dance.

Byleth studied the king from the corner of her eye. He was certainly handsome in his blue and silver garb, hair swept back to reveal his jawline and strong nose. He was also a complete stranger—the most words they’d spoken had been at the wedding feast, when he’d grimaced at the church’s best silver cutlery and she’d asked if it displeased him.

Hesitantly, he reached for her hand, but stopped just short. Byleth’s heart sank. It wasn’t unexpected that he would be reluctant to touch the inhuman Vessel. But in that moment, she could feel the years of a cold, formal marriage dragging out before her.

“My apologies,” King Dimitri murmured. “I…I understand if you would prefer that I do not touch you. My cursed strength breaks all that is delicate.”

Byleth blinked slowly. She’d heard of the famed Blaiddyd strength, always spoken of as an incomparable boon in battle. But she also remembered his pained smile, when he’d reassured her that the silverware was lovely, and picked up a spoon with exaggerated carefulness.

People had often told her that being the Vessel was an honour. A blessing from the goddess. Their praise had never made her life feel less lonely.

Byleth took his hand in hers. It was big, and warm, and trembling slightly with nerves.

“I won’t break.”

She met his eyes, calm and confident and refusing any doubt. After a moment, Dimitri laced their fingers together, and smiled.

He’d been smiling all throughout the day. But for the first time, Byleth could tell that it was genuine.

vannen@vannen· Jun 28

#dimileth | #FE3H | #fic fluffy modern AU drabble - Dimitri and Byleth talk about the upcoming school play 😉 #feartscuffle

“You’re auditioning for the school play?”

Dimitri winced. Perhaps he should have phrased the question better, in a way that didn’t sound like he doubted Byleth’s acting abilities. But. Well. Byleth was a girl of many talents (he could have spent days listing them all), but even besotted as he was, Dimitri was quite certain that acting wasn’t one of them.

Byleth nodded, unaffected by his rudeness. She stood on her toes (cute) to write her name on the audition sheet, right at the top next to the role of Princess Aurora. “Professor Manuela asked me to. She said I’d be a perfect Sleeping Beauty. All I have to do is ‘lie there and look pretty’.”

Dimitri considered that. Byleth was certainly very good at looking beautiful. Still, he felt a little offended on her behalf by the professor’s evaluation (he might agree, but he would never voice such a thing aloud). There were other, more flattering aspects to the role of Sleeping Beauty that Byleth might excel at, such as kissing—

His eyes snapped to the role of the Prince, agitation growing as he read the names of those auditioning. Ferdinand. Lorenz. Sylvain…!

Dimitri smiled pleasantly as he took the pen and added his own name to the list. The thought of acting was beyond mortifying, but everyone always did say he had a princely aura.

Byleth rested her hand on her chin thoughtfully. “Professor Manuela gave me a copy of the script,” she said. Her expression might have looked blank, but Dimitri could see the faint curve of her lips. “Want to practice together?”

Could she really mean…?

Dimitri had never nodded so fast in his life.

vannen@vannen· Jun 28

#petrashe | #FE3H | #fic first #feartscuffle drabble of the day, some tragic CF Petra/Ashe (major character death warning 🥺)

The fire raged through Fhirdiad, flames lapping at the heavens. In the shadowed, smoky streets beneath, they met.

His bow was on the ground. Her sword was at his throat.

There was no point in pleading. Petra stared into his clear green eyes, and knew that he would join his king in death before abandoning his people. She understood, too well. She could never make a choice that would endanger Brigid. No matter how painful the alternative might be.

And yet, still she hesitated. Ashe smiled, as kind as ever. There was no fear in his eyes. He would not hate her for what she must do. Surely a truer heart had never lived.

It only took a moment.

The flames reflected in his eyes like life.

Petra closed his eyes a final time. Spirits, she prayed, placing her necklace in his hand. Please. Watch over him, and guide him to your eternal home…

vannen@vannen· Jun 28

#dimileth | #FE3H | #fic one more for today 😴 Byleth gets injured in an inconvenient place, and only Dimitri is around to help her... #feartscuffle archiveofourown.org/works/858787...

Chapter 15:
Dimitri/f!Byleth for emeraldlatias

Tags: Tending to Wounds, Comedy, Sexual Tension, Academy Era, Pre-Relationship

Weak Point: A pre-relationship scenario where wound tending shows a character's protective/soft side + forces feelings to surface because the wound is in a place that requires trust/discretion.

Summary: When the professor is injured, Dimitri has no choice but to treat her wound.

vannen@vannen· Jun 27

#dimileth | #FE3H | #fic A Dungeon Meshi AU for #feartscuffle 🍄 archiveofourown.org/works/858787...

Chapter 14:
Dimitri/f!Byleth for edgeofdawn

Tags: Dungeon Meshi AU, Character Study, Friendship, Eating Monsters

Weak Point: Dimitri falling for the person within Byleth under the “ashen demon” shell

Summary: Dimitri will do anything to reach the end of the dungeon, even if it means hiring the Ashen Demon.

vannen@vannen· Jun 27

and part 2 😉

The cat followed him silently through the halls of Garreg Mach. It hissed at everyone it encountered, swiping and biting at any hand but his. Not even Felix was safe.

Dimitri did not care for the cat. But it kept away rats, and something about its purrs could silence the dead, for a moment at least. That was enough to let it stay, for now.

One night, when he stood mumbling in the cathedral, the cat meowed. Dimitri spun around, shocked, to see who had tamed the feral beast.

It was the professor, of course.

The cat was rubbing up against her leg, purring merrily as she stroked and fed it. Byleth was not looking at the cat though. She was staring at him, the silent message in her gaze undeniable.

You’re next, her eyes said.

A thrill ran down Dimitri’s spine.

vannen@vannen· Jun 27

#dimileth | #FE3H | #fic Dimitri does NOT make a friend during his exile 😼 #feartscuffle

“So.” Dimitri bared his teeth. “You are the thief that has been nibbling on my catches.”

The lanky grey kitten in his hand hissed. It tried to struggle free, but even Dimitri’s gentlest grip on its scruff was too strong. Its claws bounced harmlessly off his gauntlet.

After a moment, he placed the beast back on the ground. “Begone with you,” he ordered coldly. “I have no time to waste caring for a mewling kitten.”

But despite its desperation to liberate itself, now that the kitten was free, it merely sat there. Staring at him with big green eyes that reminded him of—

No. No, she was gone. Just like everyone else he’d ever loved. Dimitri snarled at the kitten, angered by the painful memories it brought. “Return to your masters!” he snapped. The faded pink ribbon tied around its throat proved that someone, poor though they might be, owned the beast. “You shall find no pity here.”

The kitten didn’t budge. She hadn’t flinched either, not even when his rage broke through at the academy…

Dimitri scoffed. He turned away from the creature, disdain dripping from his voice. “Fine. Stay if you must. But do not expect me to keep you alive.”

He didn’t bother to secure his latest catch though. Not because he cared if the kitten starved. Dimitri just couldn’t be bothered, and a few bites from the little beast would hardly make a difference. Besides, he would be long gone in the morning, hunting after the imperial rats that had burned the nearest village to the ground…

When the kitten crept over, curling up quietly in his lap, Dimitri didn’t shove it aside. The night was cold after all, and any bit of warmth was useful.

That was nothing more to it, no matter what the dead cried.

vannen@vannen· Jun 27

#dimileth | #FE3H | #fic and another quick #feartscuffle drabble, this time a modern AU with Dimitri running into Byleth at the gym 😳

Dimitri had seen Byleth dressed for a range of professional functions. Elegantly tailored suits for major meetings. Stylish skirts and blouses for regular days at the office. Stunning gowns with plunging necklines for the company’s charity ball.

And yet nothing had ever left him quite so mesmerized as the sight before him now.

Byleth was running on the treadmill, her expression as calm and unbothered as ever. She was dressed simply, in a pair of sweatpants and a baggy tank top that only half covered the practical, no-nonsense sports bra beneath. Her normally loose hair was pulled back into a ponytail, bobbing hypnotically with every step.

Dimitri couldn’t have said what captivated him so. The casualness perhaps? The glimpse of her private life, always just out of reach?

If his foolish crush was requited, would he see her like this every day?

“Hey.” Byleth popped out her headphone as the treadmill slowed. She stared at Dimitri, oblivious—like always—to his shameful ogling. “Don’t normally see you here.”

Dimitri wished she hadn’t noticed him until he’d begun training. At least then, he could have blamed his flush on exertion. “Ah. Yes.” Not quite meeting her eye, he made his way over to the weights. “The gym at my apartment building is closed today. The one here at the office was the most convenient alternative.”

He’d been beyond irritated when he saw the closed sign earlier. Now, Dimitri thanked the goddess for blessing him with the sight of Byleth in training gear. Perhaps he should continue coming here indefinitely…

No. It was inappropriate to take advantage of their work relationship in such a way. Determined to resist temptation, Dimitri laid down on the bench press. This way, he could stare at the ceiling (not Byleth) and heft weights until he was too tired to dwell upon her sculpted forearms.

But before he could begin, Byleth appeared above him. The view from this angle was certainly…something…and distracting enough that he missed her question.

“Er. What was that?” he asked, dazed.

Byleth showed no trace of impatience. “Do you want me to spot for you?” she repeated.

He’d been wrong to think this was a blessing from the goddess. Clearly, it was a test—and he was failing miserably. “…Yes. That would be lovely, thank you.”

After the first rep, Byleth grabbed his arm, gentle yet firm as she guided him to a better position. Dimitri felt like he was floating, bliss outweighing his shame. If only his feelings were requited, how joyful it would be to begin each morning in this way…

(Dimitri could have sworn he caught Byleth staring at his flexing muscles more than once—but surely that was just wishful thinking.)

vannen@vannen· Jun 27

#FE13 | #fic A little moment between Chrom and Lucina for #feartscuffle 🥺

The world was on fire. People screamed all around her, their cries breaking into strangled whimpers. Risen overwhelmed the walls. Grabbing her friends, her family, her followers, all while she watched. Powerless.

You cannot escape.

The words boomed around her, even when she pressed her hands over her ears.

You have failed them all.

She tried to run, but her legs were stuck in place. Shadows loomed, clinging to her limbs, wrapping her in eternal shadows.

This is your fate. It cannot be changed. It cannot be changed—

Lucina woke with a start. Her heart pounded in her ears, every muscle in her body poised to spring and flee. It took several long, dizzying moments for her to realize where she was.

She was in the past—no. The present. Her dreams were of the past. Or rather, of a future yet to come. That would not come, even if she had to fight to her last breath to ensure it.

…fate cannot be changed…

A fresh wave of panic crashed over her. Lucina had failed everyone in that past future, had she not? Why should this timeline be any different? Did she really think that she could save the world?

Air. She needed air. Lucina crawled out of her bedroll, trying to ignore the tacky sweat sticking to her skin. Air would surely calm her nerves and clear away the dark thoughts lurking in her mind.

When she saw the person on watch, Lucina nearly turned back. But her father was quick, his eyes landing on her before she could escape. Lucina tried to return his cheerful grin as she made her way over to the fire. Judging by the way his face fell with concern, she’d failed at that too.

Lucina settled awkwardly beside the younger version of her father. She tucked her legs up against her chest, curling in on herself as she waited for the inevitable well-intentioned questions that only ever made her tongue-tied with pain.

Instead, Chrom was quiet. She could feel his gaze flicking between her and the fire, could see his fists clenching and unclenching. But he did not speak, or demand answers, or try to fill the silence with platitudes.

It reminded her of her father. The one from her childhood, who’d always been there to hold her hand and wipe away her tears.

Until he wasn’t.

A pained exhale escaped her. Lucina buried her face into her knees. She had to remain strong. Had to be a stalwart leader. She had to—

A hand rested gently on her own. Startled, Lucina raised her head as Chrom took her hand in his, his smile more bashful than in her memories. “Sorry if I’m overstepping,” he said, quiet in the still night. “But Lucina—er, baby Lucina—always grabs my hand when she’s upset. It seems to calm her down…”

Lucina squeezed his hand. She didn’t respond, but she didn’t need to.

Gazing up at the stars with her father by her side, the night no longer seemed quite so dark.

vannen@vannen· Jun 25

#dimileth | #hopes | #fic Happy FOUR year anniversary to hopes, the game that inspired me to start writing 🥹 in celebration, here is some definitely canon hopes dimileth for #feartscuffle, from the perspective of Rodrigue 💙💚 archiveofourown.org/works/858787...

Chapter 13:
Dimitri/f!Byleth for dpsisquared

Tags: Azure Gleam Route, Mutual Obliviousness, Mutual Pining, Humour, Matchmaking, Outsider POV

Weak Point: Rodrigue doing literally anything

Summary: When Rodrigue hears that His Majesty might have a crush, he rushes back to camp to investigate.

vannen@vannen· Jun 21

#petradue | #FE3H | #fic and probably the last #feartscuffle drabble of the day, here's Dedue helping Petra with the Fodlan language 💙

Sitting at one of the tables in the Tactics Academy, Dedue studied the list of words that Petra had placed before him.

“This one is pronounced ruff,” Dedue said, pointing at the word ‘rough.’ He moved his finger to rest below ‘tough.’ “And this one, tuff.”

“I see…” Petra murmured. She wasn’t sure why ough would be said with an uff sound, but supposed it would just be one more thing for her to memorize. “So then, I would be saying this one as cuff?” she asked, pointing at ‘cough.’

Dedue shook his head slowly. “No. That one is cawf.”

Petra hesitated. She knew the meanings of all these words in writing, but trying to figure out how to say them was a never-ending nightmare. Still, she must persevere. It was her responsibility as the future queen of Brigid.

“And…how are you knowing the difference?” she asked, tentative.

Dedue was silent for a long moment. “…His Majesty could not explain when I asked him.”

It was a shocking statement. Petra could not recall Dedue ever having come so close to acknowledging a fault in Dimitri. The language of Fodlan truly was an evil like no other.

No. She could not dwell upon it. She needed to focus. Petra gestured to the next word on the list, ‘dough.’ “So, is this one being duff or dawf?”

Dedue’s expression looked more pained than if she’d stabbed him. “The people say doh.”

Petra looked from Dedue to the parchment and back again. “…There is being something wrong with the people of Fodlan,” she said in a low voice.

His eyes were full of understanding. “Indeed,” Dedue said. He paused a moment. “…In the language of Duscur, words are spelled how they are pronounced.”

“Then perhaps,” Petra said, her dismay replaced by a smile, “You should be teaching me the Duscur language instead.”

Dedue’s lips briefly twitched into a smile, but he was serious when he flipped over the parchment and picked up a quill. “In Duscur, there are twenty-eight characters…”

vannen@vannen· Jun 21

#FE7 | #fic And a revenge drabble about Kent and Lyn at a jousting tournament ❤️💚 #feartscuffle

“It’s not fair,” Lyn complained, slumping back in her seat. “Why can’t I join the tourney too?”

“It’s a Caelin tradition, darling,” Serra said primly from her side. “The lady of the house is to preside, not partake.”

As the knights began to enter the tourney grounds, Lyn forced herself to sit upright and feign some semblance of a ladylike demeanour. “Just because it’s a tradition, doesn’t mean it isn’t stupid,” she muttered under her breath, wishing for nothing more than to be riding her own horse into the ring.

Instead, she smiled blandly as a parade of knights trotted their horses up to her. It was the same tiring display each time—a compliment on her beauty, a request for her favour to wear in the joust, and a not so subtle comment on her unmarried status, replete with meaningful glances and boasts of wealth or power. Lyn received each with a vague, non-committal remark, handing out a random flower from the basket Serra had prepared and resisting the urge to flee.

When a trio of familiar faces approached, Lyn could have cried from relief. She placed a violet in Florina’s hand with far more warmth, but paused before offering Sain a lily. The knight grinned at her hesitation.

“Alas, I did not come hither for your favour, dear lady,” he said dramatically. Lyn could see why—he was already covered in enough flowers that she was certain half the maidens in Caelin were cheering for him. “I came as moral support.”

Lyn tilted her head, confused, but Sain didn’t give her a chance to ask. He nudged his stiff-backed companion forward, until Kent had drawn his horse level with her position.

Oh.

Lyn prayed that no one noticed the heat in her face. “Ah. Did you come for a favour, Kent?” she asked, perhaps a little too hopefully judging by Sain and Serra’s amused looks.

Kent bowed his head, awkward in his formality. “It would be an honour to joust in your name, Lady Lyndis.”

“Um. Right. Thanks.” Lyn sought refuge in the basket of flowers. She reached for a gardenia but hesitated. Dozens of knights would be fighting with her flowers pinned to their chest. But Kent wasn’t just anyone.

Before she could lose courage, Lyn loosened the ribbon holding up her hair. Serra gasped and Florina blushed, and Sain looked more delighted than ever, but Lyn only had eyes for Kent’s flustered expression. At her gesture, he held out his arm and allowed her to tie the ribbon round his wrist.

“Good luck out there,” Lyn said, pushing back her loose hair to smile.

Kent touched the ribbon gently, his answering smile losing its usual stiffness. “I will not disappoint you, my lady,” he vowed.

When the tourney came to its end, Lyn placed the customary flower crown upon the winner’s brow. Kent bowed as he received the honour, her ribbon still fluttering on his wrist.

“As a reward, tradition dictates that the victor may make any request of House Caelin,” Lyn intoned, repeating the words Serra had grilled into her. “What would you ask, Sir Kent?”

He peered up at her, flush with victory. “That the Lady of Caelin be allowed to join the next joust.”

A flurry of scandalized whispers followed his declaration, but Lyn only grinned. “Well, if you insist!” she said brightly.

Perhaps some traditions weren’t that bad.

vannen@vannen· Jun 21

#FE14 | #fic a Kaze/Corrin drabble for #feartscuffle that is unintentionally very fitting for Father's Day (let's pretend I planned that) 🤭