Life Is Short. Do Stuff To A Bagel.

My name is Athina Olympia. Olympia isn't really my last name but my middle one. My last name is too difficult for people to say XD. Anyways, I'm a twenty-five year old girl who loves to have fun. EPIC VIDJIO GAME NERD FOUND HERE! NSFW Friendly ❤️

[textsfromfodlan]

Balthus to Yuri: You gotta be the alpha male! You gotta walk the alpha male walk. You gotta talk the alpha male talk. Constance: Balthus, it’s your turn to go get dinner. Balthus: YOU GET IT YOUR DAMN SELF WOMAN! *cringes* Constance: Excuse me? Balthus: I, uh…was talking to Yuri and I uh, got carried away…

submitted by @lightningtabby

[textsfromfodlan]

Nobody:

Redbubble trying to fit Fire Emblem characters on bed sheets, clocks, underwear and anything else you can think of:

[arkaylarts]

I love bedhead and I love Yuri so

Only one result

[tcup-jenni-art]

Portrait of a Mockingbird~

He’s finally finished e v e 

[incorrect-threehouses]

Constance: The only time you seem honest is when you're insulting people!

Yuri: The only honest things I can say to you are insults

[astrid-beck]

[writing-s-kills]

[lighting-rakurai]

No wonder why I love Rookidee's evolution line so much.

[hellenhighwater]

When I was a kid, my mom was a judge and my dad was starting his solo practice, and they both worked full time. There were four of us kids between the ages of one and seven (the Just Us League) and no decent daycares nearby, so they hired a nanny.  She had three almost-adult children, and on days when she couldn’t work, one of her kids would substitute. The oldest kid was named Bob, age 18, and he had just finished army basic training when this all went down. Bob did not have the good sense god gave a rock. 

I have an older brother, Jake, who was seven; then me, Hellen, age five, then Seth, age three, and my little sister Gin would have been one. It was late August, and we were at our nanny’s house, though she was gone for the day. Bob was in charge.

Bob should probably not have been in charge.

Bob tried keeping us entertained with board games and tag and movies. Gin took a nap. Eventually he decided to get creative, and sat us down in the living room with a game and vanished into the garage. There was a smashing sound. And then some saw noises. And then some hammering. And then we saw him going around the house to the back yard through the windows, though we were too short to see what he was doing. And finally, he yelled to us to come out into the driveway. 

Jake and Seth and I trooped out. Bob had both hands behind his back. He stepped up to Jake and revealed what he had in his right hand. 

It was a wooden sword. It was clearly made from what appeared to be parts of a chair’s legs, cut down and nailed together. He presented this, and announced, “You are Sir Jake, the strongest knight!” 

He stepped up to Seth and presented what was in his left hand. It was another wooden sword, smaller than the first, also crudely made out of chair legs. He announced, “You are Sir Seth, the bravest knight!”

At this point, I was practically vibrating in place, waiting eagerly for my sword so I could use it to whale on my brothers, as god intended me to do. I was therefore understandably disappointed to be presented with the business end of a garden hose and told, “You are Miss Hellen, the Water Fairy!”

“No,” I said. “I want a sword.”

Bob was confused. “But you get water magic! Magic’s great!”

“No.” I repeated, holding the hose. It had a spray nozzle set to jet. “I want a sword.”

“Magic’s great. Magic’s better than a sword.” Bob insisted. “You’ll see. Wait here a moment.”

And then Bob ran around the side of house and vanished. 

We stood in the driveway. Jake and Seth poked each other with their swords. I spritzed them idly with the hose, trying to decide which of them would be easier to steal a sword from. 

And then we heard a quiet wooshing noise, and smelled smoke. 

We turned. As we watched, a line of fire rushed around the corner of the house, consuming a path of gasoline poured into the dry August grass. 

We paused and considered this for a few moments. I raised the hose and sprayed a jet of water at the fire. It went out. We glanced at each other. Then we took off running, following the trail of fire, spraying as we went. 

The fire led in a path around the house to the back yard. As we turned the corner, we saw Bob, clad in a bathrobe and holding a curtain rod, standing in the center of a large ring of burning grass. He cackled manically. “I am the FIRE WIZARD! Your puny swords are useless! Nothing but water magic can defeat me!”

I promptly blasted him with the hose. He spluttered. The fire did not go out. 

I turned the hose on the fire itself, spraying a section close to us so that it would extinguish. As soon as there was enough room, Jake charged forward, brandishing his chair leg sword with a battle cry. Seth, always happy to be included, followed. They ran into the circle and began beating Bob around the kneecaps with their swords. I kept spraying. 

Eventually, Bob the Fire Wizard was brought down and all the fire was extinguished. Seth and Jake continued to work on bruising Bob’s shins, and I quickly discarded the hose to lend my fists and extremely pointy elbows to the cause. Bob lay in the smoldering grass, probably regretting using such sturdy chair legs. 

Once we’d all tired ourselves out and lay panting in a heap, Bob decided it was time for the moral of the story. “You see, a sword is nothing compared to the power of a little girl with **magic**.” 

We thought about this for a few moments. Bob nodded wisely. Jake and Seth nodded back. 

“I still want a sword.” I said. 

[hellenhighwater]

there’s a lot of people in the tags and replies expressing several concerns, which I will address:

“Where was Gin?” She was sleeping in a crib on the sunporch. We did this a lot–played outside while she napped–because we could hear her if she woke up and started crying, but were less likely to wake her up. She slept through the whole thing and was totally fine.

“You can’t put out a gasoline fire with water.” At the time, my little kid brain assumed that any flammable liquid was gas, but in retrospect it could have been almost anything. It very well may have been something other than gasoline. All I know is I could extinguish it with a garden hose.

“What did your parents say?” A lot of swear words at a very high volume.

“Did you get a sword?” Yes. Lots.  Here are a couple of them, and also my pet ringneck dove, Arson. You can see how this all may have had some lasting effect on me.

[messruksi]

Is that a real bird?? :0

[hellenhighwater]

Yes, she’s real. This is Arson, her mate, Larceny, and their idiot children, Forgery and Fraud.

Arson lives her life constantly wishing she had opposable thumbs so she could light fires.

[charleewritesabook]

What a ride

[frayedcobweb]

Masterful storytelling <3 You freaking rock!

[we-are-knight]

#GiveAGirlASword

[jelly-donuts-lover]

Nothing makes me feel more like a horny priest than this image of Dimitri showing (part of) his ARMS

[incorrect-threehouses]

Dimitri talking about his life so far: Short version: it was a nightmare salsa wrapped in a trauma burrito

[eggo-in-ohio]

Day Twenty-Nine: Injured.

Fire Emblem’s Byleth and Dimitri, sans epic eyepatch.

[midlangley]

Empress of Fire & King of the Dead

[rosentraume]

I drew dimitri while anxious to test my inking abilities : P

[dimitrislullaby]

Imagine, if you will

Little Dimitri, huddled up and crying alone because he broke another sword. He's upset because he seems to break everything. His utensil, toys, and now weapons. Even sturdy and strong objects can't escape his crest given strength.

His father finds him while walking through the castle and kneels beside him.

"What's wrong, little Dima?" He asks kindly, placing a hand on his shoulder.

Sniffling through tears, Dimitri tells him, "I broke another sword... I cant- cant touch anything without breaking it! Everything I touch shatters..."

Lambert pulls him into his lap, "I can't count how many swords, lances, axes- and whatever have you, that I have destroyed. Even now, Areadbhar is the only lance I needn't hold back with."

Dimitri doesn't understand his point, continuing to cry behind his sleeves.

"But," he continues, gently pulling Dimitri's hands away from his face so they can look eye to eye, Lamberts expression warm and kind, "Weapons are tools of destruction. No matter who wields them, eventually they will break."

He stands up with Dimitri in one arm, walking across to his study and picking up a glass ornament from the desk to show his son, "You have trouble controlling your strength now, and with the crest of Blaiddyd, unfortunately, you will always need to be mindful." He passes the orb of swirled glass into Dimitri's hands, "Over time, though, it'll become easier."

Dimitri holds it in rigid, flat palms, trembling with effort not to destory it with his very existence. Lambert notices and curls his fingers up to cup it instead, "All things have varying levels of durability. With fragile, precious things like these, we must practice utmost care, as opposed to weapons which are made to be handled roughly."

Something in his eyes softens as he watches his son, hands shaking less and less as he holds and turns the paper weight to observe it.

"You are more precious to me than any beautiful item of fragility." Dimitri blinks up at him, breathless at his father's heartfelt admission. "Yet look how easily I hold you now." Lambert smiles, "That certainly wasn't the case when you were first born. But with practice and mindfulness, I can lift you into my arms now and hold you without fear of ever hurting you, my son."

Dimitri snuggles further into his father's chest, imagining the crystal orb as precious as he is to his father, and smiles at how the tension in his arms leaves him.

[textsfromfodlan]

Submitted by salmaneyes64

[asterixer]

well, it WAS national cat day

but i draw so slow and whatever i wanted to do for this didn’t work out anyway LMAO