An Ocean of Fangirling With a Pinch of Salt

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★ SASAKI AND MIYANO | FOREVER TOGETHER ★

Velvet Crowe Tales of Berseria Commission.

She felt it - like a call to some primal place buried deep inside.

They’ve put her in chains…!

She would do anything. Anything.

Something in her heart - it ripped. Tearing. It hurt.

She keened. And she opened herself to it.

If they existed in darkness, she was the light. Fire.

Whatever was necessary.

Wide, bright, beautiful eyes.

“My… teacher?’

Her palm, trembling. Nuzzling against it.

She could not speak.

But Edelgard knew.

Warm, small arms. Wrapped around her as best they could.

“My teacher…”

“My Light,” Edelgard said softly, still holding on tight, “How could I ever hate you?”

“But I am a…monster.”

Edelgard opened her mouth to respond, but never got the chance. A few stragglers, angry at having lost, found the strength to push forward and attack in their moment of peace.

Byleth turned, snarling furiously. One of them managed to sink a lance deep in her hind leg, resulting in a pained roar. But before Byleth could act, something surged past her.

Something big. Something fierce. Something black.

The creature ripped those few remaining enemies apart with gruesome efficiency.

“You are not a monster, Byleth. You never were.” The creature spoke with a voice that sounded eerily like El. But that couldn’t be, because El was standing right-

She was gone.

No. El is no monster.

“You aren’t a monster…” Byleth finally spoke, her voice trembling as pain still radiated from her hind leg, struggling to stay upright.

“But I am.” Edelgard protested, the large black form that was her body setting on the ground, a dark hand resting on Byleth’s head. “Like I said before…you are a brilliant light that shines in the darkness. I…was created from the darkness.”

That still…!

That didn’t mean anything!

Byleth weakly moved her head forward, the pain soon numbing as her snout poked at El’s shoulder, having her head eventually rest at the other’s chest. Long arms had wrapped around her head, which in turn large wings encircled the larger form.

Even more pain surged as the dragon turned human, as well as the hegemon turning back, but still, they refused to let go.

How dare they.

How dare those…monsters take her away.

“…they’re the real monsters…” Byleth said weakly. “…you have saved many people…”

Edelgard von Hresvelg was no monster. She never could be one.

“…you are a light as well… You inspired hope in so many…”

…

This is a person who lost her whole family. Some were taken and body-swapped with monsters, like her uncle. Some were brutally murdered before her very eyes, like her siblings. Some were beaten into submission so thoroughly they died weak and sick, like her father. But her mother just kinda...disappeared from her life. She didn’t even know her that well.

But what if that’s an exposed nerve she doesn’t even know about?

I’m just picturing an alternate final encounter with Cornelia where she tells El all of this: about her plan to keep everyone apart right under their noses, about how her mother had wanted to see her again, about the things her mother did in an attempt to get back to her, and how her mother died, broken and alone and never able to see her little girl again.

After defeating the Church and turning on TWSITD, I can imagine Thales and the others would be looking for ways to take Edelgard down. She’s got a powerful army fresh off a massive victory, a strike team of some of the strongest fighters in Fodlan, and an intricate network of spies already on their trail. She doesn’t exactly have many weaknesses. Except Thales knows she does have at least one.

Maybe they find her in a raid. Locked up, looking thin and haggard. At first, trust is a difficult thing to gain. Edelgard has seen this trick before. But deep down, she wants to believe this is her mother. No one else from her family has survived. They never did find her mother’s body after the Tragedy, so there had always been a possibility...

Time goes on and they start to bond. El begins to open up, begins to trust. It just feels...good, to have a scrap of family given back to her. She never really got to know her mother, so this is...a gift. Byleth had been helping her learn to find faith in other people, and she starts to believe she really did get her mother back.

But then as they close in on Shambala, right when it’s most critical that they’re all focused and coordinated, the disguise comes off. In between fits of maniacal, the woman El thought was her mother jeers at her, reminds her of the world’s cruelty, takes the heart El had handed her so shyly and desperately and breaks it.

And Cornelia just smiles. "You want to know, don't you, you mewling little kitten? What happened? What really happened?"

That's enough to stop her - though her axe is still held high. Because she does want to know.

Almost as much as she doesn't.

Breathing hard. Her hands gripping the axe handle so tightly they ache.

"She messed up," Cornelia says. "Of course she did - she trusted me. Like all you foolish, useless creatures. When I told her I could save her... she agreed to it all."

Her smile grows wider. "But she survived. She wasn't supposed to survive. Just help us to orchestrate it... and believe that she would. And let us say her punishment was... unpleasant.

"She begged, you know. Not for herself. She begged for news of her child. The thing she loved most in all the world..."

The smile now is almost gleeful:

"She begged for Dimitri."

El's eyes widening. Her grip almost falters.

"She never mentioned you, I'm sorry to say."

It is Hubert who kills Cornelia.

Edelgard doesn’t respond. She doesn’t even look at her.

It had been days. Long, depressing, uncertain days since they dealt with Cornelia. Though things ultimately ended in a victory, morale was dangerously low. Byleth had been trying desperately to hold things together, to keep the armies moving and the momentum going, but they now had a ball and chain attached to them.

Edelgard hadn’t left her bed since Byleth carried her back. She hadn’t eaten. She barely slept, and when she did she was constantly haunted by nightmares. She hadn’t even bothered to change, to brush her hair, to move. The only reason her wounds had been addressed was because Manuela had basically forced the care upon her, with El being about as responsive as a dead body.

It scared Byleth. She was well beyond concern and worry. As much as Edelgard went on about Byleth being her light, Byleth had similar feelings about El. Although El wasn’t so much a light as she was a stone, a massive, unyielding rock on the shore of a stormy sea. No matter how the waves crashed against it or the wind howled, the rock would never move, never falter, never give.

But now it was like that rock had been split into a million, tiny pieces and they were all at the mercy of that stormy sea.

“I’m sorry, El,” she said softly, sitting down on the bed next to her beloved and resting a hand on her tense shoulder, “I...I wish I was better at this sort of thing... I’m...I’m sure Cornelia was lying. I’m...”

Tears had formed in Edelgard’s blank eyes, and had overflowed without any attempt to hold them back.

“El,” Byleth sighed, rubbing soothing circles on the Emperor’s back, “I’m sure your mother cared about you.”

El hadn’t spoken since the encounter with Cornelia, so when Byleth heard her scratchy, weak voice, she jumped a little in surprise. “It’s not that,” El whispered, still staring off into space. She swallowed hard, and curled in on herself even more. “What must she think of me?” she muttered.

“I...I don’t know, but I’m sure she-”

“She would hate me.”

“I doubt she hated you, El...”

“No. She would hate me. She might not have before but...”

El trailed off and was silent for some time. When the pause became worrying, and Byleth feared El had retreated back into her own head again, she asked carefully, “El?”

For the first time, Edelgard looked at her - wide, red-rimmed eyes.

"You cried for him, El." Still rubbing circles on her back.

El's lip quivered, but she shook her head. "It isn't the same thing. Not at all."

"Yes, it is."

"He was her son. He was... My brief time with him... It isn't comparable." She closed her eyes, and turned away once more. "Leave me."

"No." Rubbing, rubbing. "Because you're wrong."

"They were a family."

"Families come in many forms, El. Mine was strange, too."

"I told you to leave. Please do so."

Byleth sighed. "Think about it, then. Just... think about it."

She reached out - touching one finger to the ring Edelgard now wore.

Then, she did as told.

She lay there for a few minutes. She pulled her hands up over her face and let out a deep, frustrated sigh. If only she could do more. She had gotten a heart - she should be better at being comforting but she still felt so inept at it.

She wasn’t sure how long she spent like that, stewing in her own discontent. She could hear the camp quieting down as the night tracked on, and figured it was likely late.

“Byleth?”

A mouse could have spoken louder, yet suddenly Byleth was on her feet, hastily fumbling to light the lamp on her bedside table. Once light filled her tent, she turned, meeting the dull, teary violet eyes of her beloved.

“El, I...” she greeted, tentative and careful as if she was speaking to a timid deer, “Y...you’re up!”

El sniffled and nodded wearily. “May I come in?” she asked, her voice so frail it felt unfamiliar. Byleth realized that she was just barely peeking into the tent, and without another word, beckoned her in.

“So...” Byleth began somewhat awkwardly, “Are you...ok?”

Edelgard didn’t respond, instead heading over to sit on the edge of the bed. A flash of terror surged through Byleth that she might just collapse onto this bed and remain there for a few more days. But she shook the thought away.

El fiddled with her hands, not wishing for eye contact. Byleth noticed she was staring at the silver ring on her left hand. “I...I’m sorry, Byleth,” she uttered after a long pause, “I haven’t been...” Deep breath. “I’m sorry.”

“El, it’s ok,” Byleth assured her, moving to sit down beside her, “The things Cornelia said... They were awful and I don’t blame you for-”

“No, I... I’m sorry that...” She struggled, grappling with the words. “I’m not meant to have a family.”

For a brief second, Byleth felt her heart stop. “El...” she began.

“I...I had a family, once. It was big, and wonderful, and happy. We were all so happy and we loved each other but... Everyone’s gone.” She drew a deep, shuddering breath. “And then the people I didn’t know, the people who were family but weren’t... They...they left before I could love them, before they could love me, and... Now there’s no way to fix things.”

She looked up, then, meeting Byleth’s worried gaze. “Those monsters have taken every shred of my family and thrown them all into the void,” she stated, her voice trembling with unrestrained emotion, “Some of them they literally tore apart and others they just... If...if they realize I have more...” With a sudden, jolting motion, she reached forward and grabbed Byleth’s hands in hers. “I can’t lose you, too, Byleth,” she confessed, tears forming in her eyes, “If they take you, too...”

Byleth didn’t need her to finish that sentence. One look at her and she believed every word El said.

“El,” she began carefully, reworking their hands so she could rub her thumb gently across El’s knuckles, “I promise you, I won’t let anything happen to either one of us. If those bastards think they can take me down easily then they’ll receive a brutal lesson in hubris.”

“But-”

“And I know you’ll keep me safe, too. You’ll keep all of us safe,” Byleth told her warmly, “El, when they did all those things to you... You were just a kid. No one would have blamed you for not stopping it. But now: you’re the furthest thing from helpless now, El. I’ve seen you take down whole battalions by yourself. You and I brought down a dragon, for goddess’ sake!” She released one hand, and gently reached up to brush away some of the tears on El’s cheek. “You are the strongest person I know.”

El sniffled before throwing her arms around Byleth, hugging her like her life depended on it. Quiet sobs wracked her body, so Byleth merely held her tight in return, once again rubbing those soothing circles until the sobs subsided.

“Byleth?”

“Yes, my Heart?”

“You’re my family.”

“If you want me to be...”

“I do. More than anything.”

She couldn’t explain it, but the surge of joy those words caused in Byleth nearly caused her to blackout. But El wasn’t done.

“Any...any expansion to our family, be it children or more friends-”

“Like the Eagles?”

“Yes. Like them... I won’t lose them this time. I swear.”

Byleth placed a gentle kiss to the top of El’s head. “I know you won’t, El.”

“These tender thoughts, that only seem to grow~”

Inspired by this fanart, by @hazurasinner (seriously, check out their stuff - it’s amazing!)

—

“Byleth!”

The startled gasp followed by her wife frantically calling her name sent Byleth careening into their ensuite bathroom, fire stoker in hand because it was the nearest pointy object. She nearly wiped out on the smooth marble floors as she exploded into the room, skidding to a stop ready to take on a whole army with the ornate, cast-iron tool in her hands.

Boy did she look silly when she realized there was no army. Or any danger, for that matter.

El was at the mirror, hairbrush in hand, staring at Byleth with a mixture of confusion and horror. She realized her mistake, however, and allowed a smile to take over. It was nice, sometimes, to have someone other than Hubert willing to break down a door in order to keep her safe from imagined enemies.

“Sorry, I should have called you in a calmer fashion,” she said sheepishly as Byleth straightened up out of her fight stance.

Byleth glanced down at the fire stoker. “Heh, guess I kinda jumped to conclusions, didn’t I?” she sighed with a chuckle. She set the stoker down on the vanity and wandered closer to her beloved Emperor. “What’s got you so excited, anyway?” she wondered.

Edelgard grinned, giddy and breathless in her excitement. “It’s coming back,” she uttered, clutching her hairbrush tight to her chest as if to contain her enthusiasm.

Byleth tilted her head in confusion. “Erm… What’s coming back?” she asked innocently.

“Colour.”

Edelgard lowered her head a little so that Byleth would have a good view of her roots. And Byleth couldn’t hold back her gasp.

They were thin, delicate little tendrils of warmth in a sea of snowy white. They only made it a few inches out of her part, and were hard to see in certain types of light. But they were there: streaks of soft, light brown. It was a beautiful colour. It reminded Byleth of late summer, when the air was warm but the breeze held a coolness. When everything was bright and relaxed and happy.

“Oh, El,” she breathed, rushing forward and scooping her wife up in a tight embrace.

Edelgard laughed, unrestrained and overwhelmed with mirth, as she hugged her wonderful, supportive wife right back.

Byleth spun her around, slowly, in a little impromptu dance between the two of them in their bathroom. Laughing and holding and loving each other all because of a few streaks of brown hair. But it wasn’t so much about what it was, but rather what it meant.

“It’s…strange,” Edelgard said with a sigh after some time had passed, her daily hair-maintenance ritual forgotten. She toyed with a strand of hair that was still warm white, and continued wistfully, “I’ve…gotten used to this. I wonder if I’ll miss it? I know you’ve sometimes commented on how it looked.”

It’s true. Byleth remembered on more than one occasion complimenting Edelgard’s unusual, ethereal-at-times hair. But she shook her head. “I won’t miss it,” she stated, taking another strand that had a small bit of brown running into it, “I hope I don’t see you with white hair again for a very long time.”

Edelgard looked at her, curious, but held it out. “May I ask why?”

“I want to see.” Byleth sat next to her on the bench. “Scoot down.”

Those hands that swung a sword, that had hauled rubble, that built fires, that gutted fish - they were gentle, now. The brush in one, the fingers of the other, stroking through the long, smooth strands of hair.

And oh, it felt nice. Edelgard closed her eyes, allowing herself to enjoy the touch, the rivulets of pleasure. And Byleth’s voice: “There. And there. And there. And…”

Byleth brought a hand up to lightly tug a strand of hair away from where it had been neatly tucked behind her ear. Edelgard knew what had caught her wife’s attention - she had noticed the same thing this morning.

“My how time flies, doesn’t it?”

Edelgard reached out and mimicked her beloved’s actions, running her hand along a prominent streak of white in blue locks. She smiled, eternally happy.

Literally get into an activity that involves touching things or You. Will. Die.

It can be so easy in this day and age to feel like that’s not an option, and binge culture has made the sickening descent into couch-based isolation and lack of self-discipline not only acceptable but a “fun personality trait” for many. But sometimes, often, you need to give your brain a break from consuming and Create something. You need to give yourself time. To think. And maybe even do something with your hands while your imagination roams free.

I’ve been addicted to social media. I’ve defended social media. I’ve nearly fist fought my parents for trying to take my phone (they were absolutely in the wrong). I’ve had multiple twitters at the same time. I don’t have a twitter anymore. I’ve been depressed, and scared, and wanted nothing more than to escape the ceasless, screaming void that was my life.

Filling that void with the internet did nothing for me. It was help from my oldest sister that did. Her and her husband got me out of my house, taught me how to be a healthy adult, then set me loose.

What does this have to do with hobbies?

My wife has severe seasonal depression. This fall, she is doing amazingly better than usual, and I couldn’t be more proud of her. She picked up sewing in September. Now she spends hours a day working on projects, watching videos, or planning what new dress she can make out of a tablecloth. It gives her mind something to do to take her mind off the cold. It also lets her interact with the winter by taking charge of her fashion and making warm clothes that she likes and has a personal connection to. And at the end of a long project, she always has a new piece of clothing. Something she produced and can take pride in.

It has also helped her relationship with others. In our group of friends, she has already gotten several requests to hem or adjust clothes, which makes her feel very needed and grows a sense of community. [Side note: I love my awesome wife and could gush about her all day] She also watches YouTube videos of clothing makers while working and gets all kind of inspiration from them that she loves to tell me about. When I see the light shining in here eyes my heart fills with the joy she’s found. Plus I got some new pajama bottoms.

I like vegetable gardening. I don’t currently have a garden but I’m working on getting a plot in the town community garden. In the meantime I’ve started following different gardening or nature-centric people on social media, and I’m going to start researching different gardening tips. The plan is to one day interact with other people who share my interests and make friends, but even just now I recognize how happy it makes me to look into those things. It calms my heart and reminds me to be kind.

I also realized I kind of have a knack for building things out of cardboard. First it was a box/jungle for our cat that I made from 12-4am for no reason but I love him, and then a dinosaur for a school project.

So—and this is where it starts getting applicable to your own life—I’m going to ask all my friends for their spare cardboard whenever they get it and I’m just going to make things. Animals. Decorations. Unsturdy shelves. Some of the things I make are probably going to be really crappy, but I’ll also get better as I go on. Hopefully someday when I have money to spend I’ll turn this into actual woodworking. But for now, I have cardboard and a pocket knife, and I’m going to put my grubby little hands all over it and have some fun.

Crocheting? Baking? Painting? Building? Making sculptures out of pipe cleaners? Practicing your handwriting? Scrapbooking? Cutting up all your blankets then stitching them together in different patterns?

It’s not only good but necessary for your mental, emotional, and physical health to take your eyes off of a screen and make your hands do something tactile every now and again. Or even more often than not. But right now, just start something. Anything. You don’t have to show anyone, you don’t have to be good at it as long as it makes you feel good. Looking for ideas or intimidated by how hard something seems? The internet, with all its greedy human pitfalls, is an incredible tool for learning things. Use it for good.

here’s the thing. this is not a post about helping people. the OP would like us to think (and probably even thinks themselves) that their core message is this:

you need to give your brain a break from consuming and Create something. You need to give yourself time. To think. And maybe even do something with your hands while your imagination roams free.

but creating can be done without hands. thinking can be done without hands. they can both be done while also consuming. and they can both be done while performing such mundane tasks (with your hands!) as washing the dishes or vacuuming. ask any writer how they get their ideas and i guarantee you that all of them will say that sometimes they just pop up while they’re in the shower or doing housework or falling asleep.

so, no. that’s just the surface justification for the real message, which is, as is so often the case, that the OP thinks you’re living your life wrong if you don’t live the way they think you should. the way that they’ve “found” to be the One True Way. i’m not saying they’re a bad person. i’m sure they’re not. that’s really the saddest part of it all: they probably don’t even realise their own motivation.

binge culture has made the sickening descent into couch-based isolation and lack of self-discipline not only acceptable but a “fun personality trait” for many.

here it is, folks, the actual motivation lurking in the background. the buried thesis statement. there is so much judgement going on here, and it’s all tied up with the idea that to have value in the world you have to be productive. it’s a toxic mix of protestantism and capitalism that the west has been brewing since the reformation. it’s a way of thinking that begins by devaluing any use of time that does not lead to some demonstrable, and preferably physical, outcome. a small amount of pushback has occurred over time insofar as it’s acceptable to have “hobbies.” so now it’s okay if you don’t make money from it, or if it’s not practical, but you still really should produce something. otherwise, what good are you? what worth do you have? it self-perpetuates at an individual level because from the moment we’re born we take it in like the air we breathe. any moment of mis-step chips away at our sense of self-worth, because where does our worth come from? from activity; from production.

it’s no longer enough just to learn about something. you have to do it. once upon a time writers and philosophers, people who literally thought for a living, were looked up to and admired. (admittedly there was a lot of socio-economic privilege going on there, but not everybody who made the big time was upper class.) these days, not so much, unless you’re also famous and/or rich, because capitalism and anti-intellectualism (of which protestantism is a pillar) have decreed that thinking is only worthwhile if it’s either “useful” (in a very narrow sense) or profitable. preferably both, really.

this post is camouflaged in the pseudo-positivity of encouraging creativity. but it’s a very specific and physical form of creativity. it’s the creativity that the social norms prescribe. “find what makes you happy!” it says, knowing that most likely what’s going to make you happy is production because it will give you that sense of self-worth. as a side note: when a rat successfully runs a maze it’s been trained in and presses the button to get the treat it’s been taught to look for, it feels happy too.

my point is that if there’s a void in your life, it’s not because you don’t have a suitable hobby. it’s not because you don’t “Create” (just typing that makes me want to barf, tbh). the void is the distance between you and the social constructs that underpin everything you’ve been instructed to uphold.

i’m not saying you shouldn’t get a hobby or learn new things or do an activity if you enjoy it. i highly encourage people to do things they enjoy as long as they don’t harm anyone or anything in the process! learn how to juggle or make macrame or do home plumbing repairs or climb mountains or stay at home and masturbate all day! just make sure you stay hydrated! you’re allowed to be happy, whatever form that happiness takes (with the caveat about harm, of course).

what i’m saying is that you don’t need to do anything in order to have worth. you don’t have to fill that void if you don’t want to. you can learn to live with it. you can even cultivate self-worth from a different source. it’s not easy; in fact, it’s very, very difficult. but it’s possible.

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