writtenfate

[writtenfate]

wow i’m online! work has been really exhausting and will probably continue to be until end of august.

#↻ i’m not interested in being polite or heterosexual ( ooc ) #i'm gonna try to get my drafts/asks in queue tonight #i'm also on discord if anyone wants to chat

[writtenfate]

So my job is ramping up to the busiest parts of the year. I will try to be active on weekends but during the week I'll be pretty wiped. Not an actual hiatus but A Warning.

#↻ i’m not interested in being polite or heterosexual ( ooc ) #mobile post

[writtenfate]

@writtenstars​ asked: tousle .   mess  playfully  with  my  muse’s  hair . / kravitz to taako (you know, from tv?)

❛ hey, hey, hey, big guy !! watch it一 !! ❜ taako swats at his boyfriend’s hands, catching one of them even as he pushes kravitz a step back. the wizard schools his face into annoyance but there’s no hiding the fondness in his eyes. ❛ my looks are my moneymaker, babe, you know that. can’t go messing with them. ❜ fingers twine together. with kravitz having been gone for nearly a month, taako finds himself a little more forgiving than he usually might of disruption to his carefully tailored appearance. 

❛ susan fed the cats the generic food again when you know reaper and casper can only have fish. ❜ it’s unclear if either cat actually needs to eat, being a skeleton and a ghost respectively, but the homemade cat food taako leaves out for them always disappears by morning, so he assumes they do. ❛ i keep saying we should leave them with angus when neither of us can be home. ❜ angus is allergic to cats. which, again, odd problem considering neither cat seems to be alive. but angus starts sneezing any time he comes over. but he’s still better than susan. and he’s physically incapable of saying no to taako.

#↻ witty; self deprecating; sometimes uproariously funny and sometimes unbearably sad ( taako ) #writtenstars

[writtenfate]

me ‘n sam have rich tma aus y’all couldnt IMAGINE. we’re also objectively correct in all our tma opinions.

tryin to write replies but all i can think about is tim and elias and it’s all @healieas‘ fault

#↻ i’m not interested in being polite or heterosexual ( ooc ) #what season 5? idk what you're talking about there wasn't a s5 #s4 only exists for peter lukas #the s5 that lives in my head is so much better than anything jonny sims could dream of #jonny in s1-4 about jon: i can fix him #me rewriting s5: i can make him worse #not to be trans and mentally ill #but its all about willing descent into monstrosity (to escape a world that only ever treated you monstrously)

[writtenfate]

tryin to write replies but all i can think about is tim and elias and it’s all @healieas‘ fault

#↻ i’m not interested in being polite or heterosexual ( ooc ) #lying in the rain.jpeg #not to be 'its all about the bonds we make with other people' #but iTS ALL ABOUT THE BONDS WE MAKE WITH OTHER PEOPLE

[writtenfate]

[thoughts on a character] What makes Tim so special? why do you bother trying to save him? (from Definitely Not Red)

Timothy, Timothy. Bright, brilliant Timothy. Glittering smile, glib tongue. His spark was unmistakable. Fire in a library was a dangerous thing. He hadn’t Seen it before, because he hadn’t been Looking. 

       Don’t let Jon bully you into putting yourself in danger; casual, with a hidden agenda. Tim was strong, forward, and far too willing to lay his life on the line for whatever he considered worth it -- and what that was seemed to change by the week. Kayaking, mountain climbing, spelunking, hands-on reconnaissance for the Institute, and so on and so forth. Danger was the common thread. To a man such as Elias, a death wish was-- not incomprehensible, but nauseating, certainly. He wouldn’t prevent anyone from throwing their life away, of course, if that was their prerogative, but if Jon became reliant on Tim as his front line, things would become rather difficult down the road. That was the point he’d been trying to make. He could have stopped there, even with the argument that Jon would never be able to charm the police sergeant into handing over whatever records the archive needed, or whatever nonsense Tim was raising against him.

       But he hadn’t. He’d kept going. Because it was overwhelming, Tim’s normalcy. Extreme sports aside, he had a social life; he was friendly, if not particularly open; but then again, who was? There was the sort of secrecy that someone like Jon ( someone like Elias ) kept ( other people’s secrets ), and then there was a perfectly reasonable social understanding of boundaries. So Tim didn’t spill his trauma onto everyone else, whatever that trauma was ( for he absolutely had it, Elias didn’t hire anybody who didn’t have it ), and, despite his clear lack of self-preservation, he wasn’t the sort to pepper self-deprecating or depressing jokes into a conversation. On the contrary, speaking with Tim was almost always light and pleasant. A far cry from trying to deal with the cantankerous Jon, or Martin’s stuttering. Maybe that was it: Tim was easy to talk to. He made Elias’s front of banality that much simpler to preserve. He could stand by the water cooler with Tim, if he really wanted to. He could invite him to lunch, though he wouldn’t, because that would have been inappropriate. Tim wasn’t stable, he Knew that now, but he provided the image of stability in the same way that Elias provided the image of the world’s most ineffective manager.

       And maybe there was a part of him that was hesitant to shatter such an image. He could See it in him, that sort of Entity-related damage never escaped his Eyes, but he never felt any need to dig. Tim was fantastic for the Institute, and, by extent, for Elias’s morale. Strange, that he still needed a pick-me-up after all these years. As smoking and drinking were dirty habits that wore a body out before its time, he chose Tim. It wasn’t yet beyond him to enjoy youth vicariously. Quite the opposite: youth was his obsession. It was a shame that Tim was past the age of thirty, and Elias only fifty-odd years. Had he been younger still, he might have made a great replacement, when the time came. Instead, Elias contented himself with Watching. There was nothing untoward in it -- he felt no carnal attraction to Tim, who was, in comparison with himself at two centuries and counting, all but a child. It was voyeurism in its purest form. That which brought him sterile, platonic pleasure, a zest for life that the rest of the staff so lacked, even if it was manufactured, was worth keeping around.

       None of this had crystalized in his mind just so. They were impulses, as opposed to fully-formed thoughts, but impulses that he acted on. Tim was charming. Elias was charmed by him. He was not immune to social niceties, and a bit of flattery went a long way. Double boss had a nice ring to it. It was cheeky in how casual it was, yet still showed respect. Tim was like lemonade, refreshing. And he had been content to keep him as entertainment, and to not read too far into whatever was going on beneath the surface. Sometimes, rarely, the surface was enough. One in a thousand people could just be what they presented to him, so long as they posed no threat.

       So it was only when Tim’s rage became impossible to ignore that Elias Looked. And he was not surprised by what he found, no -- he was surprised by his own disappointment, that it was all coming to an end. He thought, Tim might really get Jon killed, and he thought, I don’t want Tim to die, and it was the latter that shook him. He stayed up all night pondering it, agonizing over what to do. For Elias was a selfish man, and when he wanted something, he didn’t often deny himself. In this case, what he wanted was for Tim to live. But he Knew that nothing he said would convince him not to jump at this opportunity, and that, if he did so, he risked all the work that he had put into Jon thus far, and he wanted his ritual as well, so very badly. All the same, the creeping thought of killing Tim made his stomach turn. Jonah had been beautiful, once. Jonah had been charming. So very few people remembered how Jonah had turned heads, how he had invited investors out to dinner, how he had convinced them to divulge what they knew to him. Acquisition by way of Adonis. And Elias did not look like Jonah -- and Jonah did not look like Jonah. The body that had won him adoration and information was all but bones, enthroned and entombed in the Panopticon. There was nothing on Earth that Elias loved more than himself. Jon was like him, in his organization, his thirst for knowledge, his attitude. Tim was like he had once been, in full flower, in hunger. But more than that, Tim was Tim, and Elias-- Elias--

       Elias Knew that he wouldn’t convince him. Elias Knew that he didn’t want to pull the trigger himself. It was the Stranger that did it. The Stranger, and Tim’s own recklessness. He was no Pontius Pilate; he had no need to wash his hands of this, because he hadn’t done it. He had warned him, and Tim had ignored him. That was the truth of it. It was the truth.

#↻ for posterity ( save ) #AAAAAAAAA #sam!!! sam you've destroyed me!!!! #↻ fight because you don’t know how to die quietly ( timothy stoker )

[writtenfate]

𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐃  &  𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐅𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄    (a  series  of  nonverbal  prompts .   mature  themes  present ,   ‘ my ’  muse  belongs  to  the  one who  posted  the  meme  -  send   “ + REVERSE ”   to  reverse  the  prompts .)

→     𝐈 .    GENERAL

❛   hush .   raise  a  finger  in  a  gesture  to  silence  my  muse . ❛   sit .   gesture  for  my  muse  to  sit  down . ❛   door .   hold  a  door  open  for  my  muse . ❛   tap .   tap  my  muse  on  the  shoulder  to  garner  their  attention . ❛   hunger .   give  my  muse  something  to  eat  /  drink . ❛   cook .   present  my  muse  with  home - cooked  food . ❛   brush .   work  a  brush  /  comb  through  my  muse’s  hair . ❛   read .   silently  read  a  book  alongside  my  muse . ❛   hand .   hold  out  a  hand  for  my  muse  to  take . ❛   dressed .   help  my  muse  put  on  an  article  of  clothing . ❛   note .   give  my  muse  a  note  saying :   [ content ] . ❛   amplify .   turn  up  the  music  in  the  car .

→     𝐈𝐈 .    ANGST

❛   patch .   help  my  muse  patch  up  a  wound . ❛   night terrors .   hold  my  muse  after  they  wake  up  from  a  nightmare . ❛   company .   silently  sit  with  my  muse  to  comfort  them. ❛   hospital .   my  muse  is  told  that  yours  is  in  the  hospital . ❛   revelation .   show  my  muse  evidence  of  a  lie  they  told . ❛   indulge .   find  my  muse  drinking  to  cope . ❛   downfall .   find  my  muse  collapsed  on  the  ground . ❛   console .   comfort  my  muse  as  they  cry . ❛   nurse .   give  my  muse  company  in  the  hospital .

→     𝐈𝐈 .    AFFECTIONATE

❛   wink .   wink  at  my  muse .  ❛   wrap .   wrap  an  arm  around  my  muse’s  [ shoulders  /  waist ] . ❛   caress .   gently  caress  my  muse’s  face . ❛   tousle .   mess  playfully  with  my  muse’s  hair . ❛   chest .   place  your  head  on  my  muse’s  chest .    ❛   comb .   comb  fingers  through  my  muse’s  hair . ❛   grasp .   run  to  my  muse  &  jump  into  their  arms . ❛   lean .   lean  on  my  muse’s  shoulder . ❛   tender .   kiss  my  muse  on  the  [ forehead  /  cheek  /  nose ] . ❛   abrupt .   kiss  my  muse  out  of  the  blue . ❛   chaste .   chastely  kiss  my  muse . ❛   good morning .   kiss  my  muse  the  morning  after . ❛   volumes .   gaze  at  my  muse  in  a  way  that  silently  says  ‘i love you’ .

→     𝐈𝐈𝐈 .    VIOLENT

❛   strike .   [ slap / punch ]  my muse in the face . ❛   gun .   wield  a  gun  at  my  muse . ❛   twist .   twist  my  muse’s  arm  behind  their  back . ❛   throttle .   aggressively  wrap  your  hands  around  my  muse’s  throat . ❛   parch .   burn  my  muse  with  a  hot  object . ❛   take down .   forcefully  bring  my  muse  to  the  ground . ❛   gouge .   wield  a  sharp  object  at  my  muse . ❛  shunt .   shove  my  muse  backwards . ❛  stickup .   yell  at  my  muse  to  put  their  hands  in  the  air. ❛  shoot .   [ fatally  /  non-fatally ]   shoot  my  muse . ❛  stab .   stab  my  muse with a  [ knife / other object ].

→     𝐈𝐕 .    NSFW

❛   surprise .   send  an  unexpected  nsfw  image  to  my  muse . ❛   pin .   push  my  muse  against  a  [ wall,  table,  other ] . ❛   go down .   go  down  on  my  muse . ❛   choke .   intimately  wrap  your  hands  around  my  muse’s  throat . ❛   belt loops .   pull  my  muse  closer  by  their  belt loops . ❛   skinny dipping .   go  skinny  dipping  with  my  muse . ❛   rip .   tear  a  piece  of  clothing  from  my  muse’s  body . ❛   mark .   leave  a  mark  on  my  muse’s  body  [ specify where ] .

#↻ no time for fun and games ( ask games )

[writtenfate]

RICHARD SIKEN / WAR OF THE FOXES Change pronouns as necessary and tweak sentences as appropriate!

I am faithful to you, darling.

When you bang on the wall you have to remember you’re on both sides of it but go ahead, yell at yourself.

Some people don’t understand anything.

He’s easy to desire since there’s not much to him.

No one wants to know what’s in his head.

To make something beautiful should be enough. It isn’t. It should be.

You’d break your heart to make it bigger.

Will you defend yourself? From me, I mean.

Let’s kill something.

I prefer to blame others, it’s easier.

All these ghosts come streaming down and I wish I had something else.

We all move forward anyway. Ripples in all directions.

What is a ghost? Something dead that seems to be alive. Something dead that doesn’t know it’s dead.

All thoughts finish themselves eventually.

Can we love nature for what it really is: predatory?

When you have nothing to say, set something on fire.

I wanted to explain myself to myself in an understandable way.

Something’s not right about what I’m doing but I’m still doing it.

The enormity of my desire disgusts me.

Look away but I’m still there.

Want something to chase you? Run.

Take only what you need.

Never finish a war without starting another.

I’ve seen your true face: the back of your head. If you were walking away, keep walking.

The fear: that nothing survives. The greater fear: that something does.

All these things and what to do with them. We carve up the world all the time.

I like dead things. They cannot hurt me.

We like things related to our survival: soup, arrows - they expand the range of the species.

My body is a graveyard.

People like to think war means something.

Let’s admit, without apology, what we do to each other. We know who our enemies are. We know.

There are many loves but only one war.

You will need to comfort him, or we will never be finished with this.

You cannot have an opponent if you keep saying yes.

Its roots in the ground and its branches in the air, a tree is pulled in two directions.

The boy is a bird, bad bird. He falls out of trees.

You cannot get in the way of anyone’s path to God. You can, but it does no good.

Some say God is where we put our sorrow.

In the wrong light anyone can look like a darkness.

What can you know about a person?

Difficult thing, to be scrutinized so long.

Even when I look away I am still looking.

Everyone secretly wants to collaborate with the enemy, to construct a truer version of the self.

How much can you change and get away with it, before you turn into someone else, before it’s some kind of murder?

Why build a room you can live in? Why build a shed for your fears?

There wasn’t much left but it felt like him, wild and scared.

The best part of spirituality is reverence. There are other parts. Some people like to hear the sound of their own voice.

If you don’t believe in God, then who are you talking to?

But truth doesn’t count in law, only proof.

Was I discovered or invented? Feels like I’ve always been here.

Measure yourself against the truth and not the other way around.

Perfect and completely dead.

People don’t learn anything unless they are afraid of being left behind.

Logic is boring because it works. Being unreasonable is exciting.

I am your arrival, there is no refusal, we are here, you see, together, we are already here.

This is also part of the story: how the story changes. This is something I forgot to tell you.

You might like it here. I think that you might like it here.

I tell you these things because I love you.

It’s nothing like I thought it would be and closer to what I meant.

Maybe we will wake up to the silence of shoes at the foot of the bed not going anywhere.

It reminds me of where I was going without you.

You know what it’s like to be alone: gimlets and vermicide. You know what it’s like to be alive, so forgiveness.

You asked me once, What are we made of? Well, these are the things we’re made of.

I turned my ears in all directions. I’ll live alone or in between.

Everyone needs a place. It shouldn’t be inside of someone else.

Your body told me in a dream it’s never been afraid of anything.

I live in big spaces, so I’m left alone in big spaces.

We made ourselves cold. We made ourselves snow. We smuggled ourselves into ourselves. Haunted by each other’s knowledge.

To hide somewhere is not surrender, it is trickery.

I try to guess your trajectory and end up telling my own story.

I surrender my desire to be healed.

Take it or leave it, and for the most part you take it.

Shame comes from vanity. Shame means you’re guilty, like the rest of us, but you think you’re better than we are. Maybe you are.

There is no new me, there is no old me, there’s just me, the same me, the whole time.

Don’t try to make a stronger wind, you’ll wear yourself out. Build a better sail.

You want to solve something? Get out of your own way.

What’s the difference between me and the world? Compartmentalisation.

I hope it’s love. I’m trying really hard to make it love.

I clawed my way into the light but the light is just as scary.

I’d rather quit. I’d rather be sad. It’s too much work.

I mean, maybe it’s better if my opponent wins.

What happens when I no longer want to meet you?

Nothing lasts forever: we know this.

Longing and suffering? Of course, of course. You want it to mean something.

You can disconnect it or you can try to glue it all together.

We could pull it apart, spend our whole lives pulling it apart and have no time left to do anything smart with the pieces.

The sooner you embrace it, the sooner it will leave you.

You are what you cover up.

Noise and more noise. Noise up to heaven.

One wonders why a story like this exists.

I want to give you more but not everything. You don’t need everything.

Someone has to leave first.

He was pointing at the moon but I was looking at his hand.

All this was prepared for me. All this was set in motion long ago.

I stayed as long as I could. Now look at the moon.

What does all this love amount to?

#↻ no time for fun and games ( ask games )

[writtenfate]

LIKE THIS for a starter!

specify muse/muse combos!

#↻ i’m not interested in being polite or heterosexual ( ooc ) #got no drafts bc i've actually been on top of things lol [grabby hands]

[writtenfate]

@viivyre jeritza & edelgard

to put jeritza’s thoughts on edelgard neatly would be nearly impossible. not in the least because he has three sets of them. a confusing tangle of loyalty-gratefulness-distrust-fear that trips over itself in his head anytime he feels himself blur, feels one of the others wrest control from him. he likes to think he has put such wonderings behind him, that he’s focused himself entirely on bringing about the plans edelgard has put into place for him, on cutting a path for her to tread. but he often finds himself lingering on it, watching her as she discusses in low voices with hubert across the room. 

they don’t always share those conversations with him but he doesn’t mind. he is a tool, after all. a blunt object used by her ( by hubert ) to destroy what stood in their way. and tools don’t care about plans. but he watches nonetheless. watches as edelgard shakes her head in displeasure at something hubert suggests. watches as hubert takes the rejection with a dip of his head, though his fingers twitch at his sides. jeritza tips his head to the side. 

hubert, he has found, shares a lot of his feelings on edelgard, though for very different reasons. he can’t pin down why hubert shows such loyalty, only that it runs deeper even than his. together they form a pair of twin shadows to edelgard’s light. getting their hands dirty so she doesn’t have to. 

which brings him back to her. some might mistake his feelings for love. for adoration. ( jeritza isn’t sure he’s capable of feelings as soft as those. he wasn’t created to feel them but to bear the burdens of the day to day. those feelings remain locked tight to the core that even edelgard can’t reach. ) still others might call it blind loyalty. but there’s nothing blind about it. there’s a ruthless sort of clarity to his loyalty. a hand offered to a young man with nothing but anger and the desire to kill. palm to palm, hands clasped, and jeritza slotted into place. something amorphous forming into a bright, clear line. point a to b. 

she is clarity. direction to the shapeless form of his anger. of their anger. she is the hand that wields him. she is一 coming closer.

he blinks. he hardly has to look up at her, even sitting down, as she comes to stand before him. hubert had left at some point while jeritza was trapped in his own thoughts, leaving the two of them alone in the dimly lit room. flames flicker in the fireplace, casting both of them in a warm glow, catching on her headpiece and throwing sparks of light into the shadows. there’s a metaphor in that for someone more skilled with a pen than he. 

❛ i presume you have new orders, lady edelgard ?? ❜ it comes out scratchy and it occurs to jeritza that this might be the first time he’s spoken all day. the death knight stirs in their shared space at ‘orders’ but jeritza ignores it in favor of meeting edelgard’s eyes.

#↻ draw a monster. why is it a monster? ( jeritza von hrym ) #viivyre #this is more an excuse to word vomit about how jeritza(/dk/emile) feels about edelgard than an actual starter lmao #whoops #q

[writtenfate]

I want to fix my muse list + rules but im waiting on a commissioned carrd 😭

#↻ i’m not interested in being polite or heterosexual ( ooc ) #mobile post

[writtenfate]

healieas​.

“Will you endeavor to stay out of my office, as well?” He pressed the toe of his shoe into the anti-fatigue mat beneath his desk, feeling the material give just slightly. It supposedly offered more support when standing, less impact on the knees, and, though he rarely stood behind his desk for any extended period of time, it was nice to have. Elias had such weak knees, even beforehand, and there was nothing he could really do to change that. So he mitigated it, cushioning this aging body to make it last as long as it could. Regular exercise. Healthy meals. A good night’s sleep. Minimal stress. Stress wasn’t good for the heart. Aaron stressed him out. “At least do me the courtesy of telling me what you want.”

❛ mmmm一 no, i do not think so. ❜ it’s unclear which of elias’ questions he’s answering and the smile stays fixed on his face. ❛ i found out my new tenant is one of yours. the nervous one with the long hair. ❜ he inspects his fingernails. dirt crusts the blue tinged nail beds. ❛ funny how these things happen, is it not ?? i found them scratching eyes near my office phone. ❜ it’s not that he expects elias to have planted levi in his apartment building ( he doesn’t begin to think he’s that on elias’ radar, despite his semi-regular visits. ) but he can’t help his curiosity at levi’s role here. something about them draws him in, tugs at that place deep in his chest that remembers pressing his ear to a door, straining to hear the sound of a baby fussing on the other side. 

❛ i heard about gertrude, by the way. a shame, that. ❜ there’s a knowing lilt to his words as he cocks an eyebrow at elias. ❛ her handling of my brother was quite something to watch. ❜

#↻ which should i apologize for? what i became or what i didn’t? ( aaron lukas ) #healieas #q

[writtenfate]

its 12:30 and i’m thinking about jeritza & edelgard and losing my mind

#↻ i’m not interested in being polite or heterosexual ( ooc ) #writing a starter and i just!!! #i have never gotten to write out his feelings about edelgard and i'm LOVING this #i'm not usually good at writing introspection but jeritza as a character forces it #which is very fun #get to stretch my writing muscles a little

[writtenfate]

@writtenstars hubert & claude

night air sits heavy as a winter cloak, shadows thick with the dark moon. garegg mach rests near silent in the wee hours of the morning. in the distance there’s the faint sound of the guard changing for the final time, metal and leather against stone and then silence again. closer, there’s the cat-quiet sound of boots on grass. just the barest rustle of cloth. 

❛ hey, hubert. ❜ claude seems to melt out of the shadows, intercepting the young man before he can make it to the door leading to the dorms. he twirls something between his fingers idly. a coin, flashing in the dim light as it dances across the back of his hand, his palm. ❛ bit late for a stroll, isn’t it ?? ❜ he smiles, disarming, and tucks his other hand behind his head, tosses the coin in the air, and catches it. ❛ the professors would be interested to hear about this little excursion, i bet. what could draw a student due in class in the morning away so late ?? ❜

#↻ i grabbed my fate with my own hungry hands ( claude von riegan ) #writtenstars #you said ANY pair #so you get this #claude isn't a snitch but also you know. leverage.

[writtenfate]

claude has a bunch of random fidgets he does with his hands, i think. coin tricks, mostly. walking them across his fingers, making them disappear, things like that. it’s both practice and something to keep his hands engaged while he’s thinking.

#↻ i grabbed my fate with my own hungry hands ( claude von riegan ) #he's just constantly twirling shit

[writtenfate]

been surprisingly productive (and by that i mean did both my drafts and am half way through a starter) i’m proud of myself lol

#but now i have to cook and then plan for dnd lol #↻ i’m not interested in being polite or heterosexual ( ooc )

[writtenfate]

hamartio​.

frankly, he does not blame felix’s frustration but as he is, glenn cannot help the laugh that comes past his lips, blue gaze upon the younger of the two for a brief moment as he returns his attention to the task at hand. “come on now, don’t whine—”, he is busying himself polishing his armor, fixing the little creases made by previous battles; at the height of his mid nineteens, he’s a knight already, captain of the cavalry, but it doesn’t feel special. it has been natural progression, isn’t it? nothing more than that. “i’ve had it a lot worse your age, little wolf. as long as you remember to dry up after coming inside, you should be fine.”

there’s a pause as he pays attention to the work at hand a bit more before he gives the younger one another glance. his face turns a touch mischievous as his mouth forms a brief, telling oh. “—wait. don’t tell me you want me to go train with you? is that why you’re pouting?”

a huff escapes him and he pointedly won’t look at glenn. ❛ i’m not pouting. i’m just一 ❜ felix casts about for an excuse. ❛ 一 mad that i got rained out of my training. ❜ he reaches up and tugs on his bangs. twists them around a finger. ❛ nothing else. ❜

with glenn off taking care of whatever skirmishes happening, dimitri and sylvain preoccupied with their own tasks as heirs, and ingrid helping her father, felix has spent most of the past month on his own. roaming the halls. haunting the training yard. most of the guards hesitate to train with the younger fraldarius . smaller, more ‘delicate’. a perception he can’t seem to shake even after this long.

#↻ sour little boy with a fragile masculinity ( felix fraldarius ) #hamartio