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#lif fire emblem
yuki-mii · 9 months
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interrupting my three houses combo with my favorite jelly zombie
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erod-doi · 2 months
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LATEST COMMISSION FOR @chick-it-out !
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FINAL/LINEART
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thunderyonder · 8 months
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she bade me balance the cohort of the dead
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we need a lif unit with his cock out. thrasir already gets to have her WHOLE pussy out, we need equality
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feh-alt-battle · 1 month
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Poll 19 - Lif
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We are not here to comment on how "good" or "bad" any of the art is. We are here to find which alt is your favorite, be it in outfit, usability, or if it's just your blorbo! Please keep "this art is better than that art" out of the tags.
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cold hearted
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revhreicrux · 1 year
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lil sketch of edgy boi lif 
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anon-san · 9 months
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"What happened to you, my Prince...?" (Please do not repost my art!)
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soriagravity · 1 year
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this is pretty old but i still really like it haha
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emotionaldepravity · 1 year
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Hi there 😃 may I request something with yandere Ike or Lif from fire emblem? I'm not sure what kind of scenario though 🤔 😅
I gotchu don't worry! I thought I'd do them in a short story style. Hope you enjoy!
Ike
You didn't know that getting close to Ike would have been so dangerous. He seems to be one of the most normal people you have ever summoned to Askr. Not being a prince or noble, he had fought with only his own two hands. How could you not admire him? Oddly enough he had felt the same. He would silently stand beside you whenever he had the chance. If you weren't at his side, the moment he saw you, you would be. Most heroes didn't seem to mind your closeness, other than the odd look Ike might receive after being pushed out of the way, but Soren wasn't content watching Ike slip from his grasp. The mage could confront you only once to tell you that you were underserving of such special treatment. After all, you didn't know Ike's journey or his struggles like he did. The conversation had left you quite frazzled, but you had a hard time disagreeing. Once you mentioned it to Ike, he assured you that there was no need to be worried. He was going to take care of it. You had no reason to believe that involved anything other than words.
When you were called to the scene you were sick to your stomach at the sight. You immediately confronted Ike about why he would act so cruelly toward someone who you believed to be his closest friend.
"I told you once that I would walk down this road with you as long as you let me, but... Whether you'll have me or not, I will not let anyone stand in our way. On the battlefield or otherwise..."
Lif
Its no wonder that Lif is jealous of others around you: he had seen you die before. Everyday since he watched the light fade from your eyes, he longed for you. Days were long without you in his ruined future. Experiencing the light take him only to be brought back in front of you seemed like a nightmare, but you try so hard to make him feel safe. Your warm lively hands, so gentle, often tap him on the shoulder. You offer him a place at the table you eat at though he no longer needs food. Each time he wants to push you away, you bring him back in. Though your small acts of kindness aren't just for him. You are kind and thoughtful to almost any hero. More specifically you are kind to Alfonse. It drives him mad. He knows that that is technically him, but it isn't the him who understands your value. It isn't the him that gets sick at night wondering if you love someone else. He is the one that keeps careful watch of you on the battlefield and reprimands the idiotic royals that let you out of their sights. That is why he couldn't stay another day in Askr. That is why he steals you away in the night. There aren't many realms that he could hide you in, but with Hel's throne truly empty now, he'd have somewhere to go. He'd carefully sit you on the throne, as you slept, thinking only of how he'd wish it was the one his birthright afforded him.
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princesheepish · 8 months
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When you summon the wrong hero
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radiantdivination · 9 months
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72. líf ( fire emblem heroes ) icons & header ♡
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cogentsummoner · 1 year
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lif text post memes from my huge library of feh text post memes that i originally posted on twitter
bonus: farmer lif content that makes sense only to me and my dnd group
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iszapizza · 2 years
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*shakes my cage* I KNOW THEYRE IN LOVE
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thedragonkween · 2 years
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líf and the summoner are such a beautiful tragedy - you will have to pry this ship from my cold dead hands.
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It’s wrong. Líf knows it’s wrong.
You’re Spring. You’re Life.  
You’re as beautiful and warm as the early morning sun, as gentle as the soft autumn breeze.
He is Death. He is everything that is rotten in this world.
You should recoil in his presence. You should push him away, like he so desperately tries to do with you. 
And yet, you let him stay by your side. And he cannot find it in himself to avoid gravitating towards you, like the tides with the moon.
He places his giant fur cape on your shoulders when you shiver. The fabric is soft, but cold - the body of its wearer lacks the warmth to infuse it with - yet the weight of the cape is comforting nonetheless. It reminds you that you’re safe with Líf, that he will not let anyone or anything touch you. 
He hovers behind you like a shadow, clawed hand resting on Sökkvabekkr’s hilt, ready to glare at anyone who is foolish enough not to show you the respect you deserve. 
With you, he can taste hope: it’s sweet and always leaves him wanting more, just  like your lips. You let him kiss you in the secrecy of your room, your bodies basked in silver moonlight as the stars above witness this thing that has bloomed between you, despite all odds and against all reason. 
You don’t know how this will work. You don’t know whether the bond you share is destined to rot or to blossom. 
Yet, as his red eyes soften every time you sigh in bliss, it does not matter.
Dead or not, he will continue to protect you.
For you’re his Moon, and he is the loyal wolf who will worship it until the end of times.
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keikaru · 3 months
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in your hands these garden flowers bloom - FEH (Kiran, Alfonse, Lif)
Originally written in 2020. Forgot to post it after all this time!
In which Kiran embroiders flowers while Alfonse sits beside her.
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In the garden, it was peaceful.
Garlands of green ivy adorned the garden walls while trellises of ivory flowers enclosed the area around us.
“Summoner—” Alfonse’s voice was steeped with concern— “I think you just pricked yourself.”
“Did I?”
And just like that, I felt a sharp pain on my ring finger. I glanced down at my latest embroidery piece. It was a simple laurel that cradled a few roses within the folds of the leaves. Among the crimson flowers, I noticed a fleck of copper that was unlike the others.
“It’s not like you to be so careless,” he began, “here, let me see.”
From across the table, Alfonse reached over and took the project from my hands. He scolded me for being absentminded as of late and I remained silent. It was true that something occupied my thoughts. But I didn’t think it warranted a lecture because the needle in my hand slipped. It was a mistake even seasoned craft makers would have made from time to time. When I found a pause in his words, I cut in wryly.
“This isn’t a grievous injury, Prince—" the garden chair scraped behind me as I stood up— “but if it greatly concerns you, I will go see a medic.”
I offered a tight smile. From where Alfonse sat, he coolly gazed back at me, eyes the color of Prussian blue. Something stirred within those eyes of his, like a tidal wave crashing upon a shoreline. Only if I stared long enough, perhaps I could drown in them.
I looked away. His looks as of late agitated me. But I didn’t understand why. Perhaps it was the warm air. Perhaps it was stress.
“I didn’t say it was a grievous injury. Only that, if you continue to be absentminded, think of how this would reflect on the battlefield. Then where would we be?” There was no heat behind his words, only a plain statement.
Nevertheless, an irritation welled up inside me. It coiled around my thoughts. There he goes again. I intoned silently. I know he means well but…It feels infuriating sometimes.
“Regardless,” another voice smoothly cut into our conversation, “You should take better care of your hands.”
Alfonse and I both swiveled our feet in the direction of the voice, startled. As I turned around, I felt something soft fall onto my head. It slid down my hair and a veil of white obscured my vision. Tentatively, I reached up for the object.
Behold, it was a soft handkerchief of the finest quality.
“Thank you, um, Lord Líf.” I responded, a mix between bewilderment and gratitude. He seldom made an appearance, usually withdrawing to his quarters or to a solitary corner after a mission. On some occasions, I saw him discussing with Thrasir either in the library or the grand halls. “I will—I will hasten to return this.”
Líf appeared at my side, his gaze settled on Alfonse before drifting to me. They were not cold but held an indifference to them. It seemed as if his crimson eyes could have bled over a ruinous future into my eyes if I gazed long enough. I turned my eyes downcast, unsure what to make of him.
His presence was no longer intimidating, but it was always his eyes that filled my heart with immense melancholy.
“Do whatever you please,” he replied curtly and with a nod.
I held the handkerchief to my pinpricked finger and watched as a speck of copper blemished the pristine fabric.  
Líf turned to face Alfonse. After a brief pause, he addressed the latter.
“Prince. Your presence is required. Hríd was looking for you.”
“I see. Do you know what he needed?”
They discussed about the matter. It was about provisions and assistance with rebuilding Níflheim. Of course, progress was steady, but the lack of resources and manpower quickly added onto the burden of reconstruction.
Quietly, I stared at my hands. Thin, pale scars spiraled out like constellations on my fingers. There was a jagged scar on my left hand, curling like a crescent moon. I recalled how an enemy lancer struck me before my bolt of Thoron did. How the wound took months to mend—coupled with special concoctions, ointments, skilled clerics and magic—I miraculously regained use of my left hand again.
Perhaps I would be useless without these hands. Hands that wielded the divine weapon Briedablik, hands that helped forged a future for Askr. And hands that clutched onto the dying palm of a soldier, reassurance that their sacrifice was not in vain. Thank you, Summoner. Until…we meet again…
I turned to look at my nearly finished embroidery. Then I glanced at Líf and Alfonse. Lif’s mature and stoic countenance contrasted with Alfonse’s youth and lofty idealism. Like on the surface of a lake, a ripple distorted their reflections, revealing the outcome of their worlds.
As the pair continued their conversation, I slipped away behind the ivory flowers and trellises.
You should take better care of your hands.  
It was a simple statement, but I wondered why Líf’s words had a somber quality to them.  
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