Dear Ralof
After Helgen, Ralof and the Dragonborn part ways but she manages to stay in touch through letters of her adventures. Ralof's feelings grow over time but can the Dragonborn say the same? F!Dragonborn/Ralof, mentions of F!Dragonborn/Aela and Ralof/Ulfric
Ralof honestly didn't think he would lay this low in Riverwood when he and the other younger Nord stumbled through the gates a little over a week ago, but time, wine, women and warmth had changed him in little over a day and so now he sat with his feet in the water, head tipped back to stare up at the night sky of Skyrim.
He heard the sound of footsteps approaching and tensed up – still wary over how himself and Jarl Ulfric had been caught unaware – with his head snapping to the side to stare over his shoulder, surprising himself at seeing his newest companion and fellow prisoner walk up to him with her hands deep in the pockets of her fine clothing.
"Girl what have I told you about creeping up on me?" Ralof barked with a short laugh escaping him, turning back to the river and staring at his dirty face to see if a scar he had managed to obtain during Helgen was still there.
The blonde Nord chuckled beside him before she too flopped down on the riverbank, slipping her shoes off and plopping her own feet into the river.
She turned her head to face him with a smirk. "If I managed to sneak up on you Ralof then it's your own fault, you know very well how much good I did the time I spent in the marshes of the Pale."
Ralof grew quiet at the mention of the girl's life (as an even younger girl than she was now) in the Pale and without thinking brought his hand up to relax on the other Nord's shoulder, rubbing away the tension that had settled just above the bones. "Yeah you told me girl, keep forgetting about those times if I'm quite honest."
The younger Nord had grown up with a group of thieves that lived in dank caves of the Pale, doing petty jobs like pick-pocketing, burglary, extortion and the likes however the one thing that had been the problem was that she hadn't been very good at it; setting off traps, being clumsy and generally being a very bad screw in the machine that as soon as they had been able to they had kicked her out.
She hadn't told him much after that but the red scar that started from her lip and sprawled out over her right cheek told Ralof more than she probably would have liked for him to know.
A sudden whisper of cool air floated over the thin fabric of his tunic and with a shudder he pressed the younger girl into his side, warming them both up with flushed body heat from embarrassment (on his part anyhow) and the fur lining of her clothes.
"Aw, is this because I'm leaving tomorrow?" She teased him with a little poke to his side, cobalt eyes flickering up to stare into his own sparkling blue hues. "Don't worry Ralof, you'll be fine without me, what with taking the fight to the Imperials and all."
Ralof snorted and used the hand not wrapped around the girl to pick at the blonde strands that had managed to get into the other Nord's eyes, tucking it behind her ear and pulling her in closer to his side until her hot breath could just about be felt below his collarbone.
"Just make sure you write alright?" He heard her whisper against his chest, fingers tightening over the fabric of his shirt just above his heart. "Sometimes it feels like you're the only one I trust around here, that and you buy me the drinks I can't get because of my pesky age."
Ralof grinned at the particular memory of his companion sulking in the tavern with her mug of cold water, sulking so efficiently that soon enough Ralof had got up to get her some Nordic mead (despite the protesting of Gerdur) so that she would perk up enough that it wouldn't feel as though him, Gerdur and her husband was attending a funeral.
"You'll grow up soon enough girl," Ralof told her with another laugh that made his body shake comfortably against his companion. "Soon enough you'll be known as Faolan the Stormcloak or Faolan the Hero of Skyrim! Well, that's if you put some work into it…"
Faolan regarded him with a sarcastic grin and pulled away from him to get up from where she sat, patting him lightly on the head once before she kissed his cheek in what he knew to be farewell.
"Be safe Ralof," she told him with a wink and a hug around his waist before she turned her back on him to walk her way back to his sister's mill.
Ralof watched her go with his heart dropping firmly into his stomach, it was her tradition to say goodbye so fleetingly as she had done when she had lived in the Pale with her band of thieves, yet it still made him grow forlorn at seeing her halo of golden strands float in the wind and turn a corner.
Later once he arrived back home he would sit on his bed that sat the opposite of hers and would wonder how many days, weeks, months or even years it would be until he would see Faolan again.
A whole two months passed before Ralof heard from Faolan again.
After managing to haul himself and a few strangers he had met on the road up to Windhelm he spent the remaining hours of daylight booking a room in the cheapest inn he could find (which turned out to be in the Grey Quarter, run by dark elves) to collapse in the most uncomfortable bed ever.
Before Ralof could allow himself to fall into the deepest slumbers of sleep there was a knock at the door that sounded urgent enough that he ignored his annoyance and got up, trudging his way over to the door to open it and receive a letter shoved into his bared chest.
"Sorry sir!" The Argonian courier apologized with a bow of his head, sweat shining brightly on his brow as he speeded back down the stairs of the Gnis's inn.
Ralof shook his head at the disappearing turquoise tail that trailed behind the Argonian, muttering 'madness' before he closed the door and settled back onto his bed with his back pressed up against the wall to open the letter the courier had given him.
He almost dropped it at recognizing the handwriting, unable to believe that after so many months of wondering and praying to Talos he had finally had his wish answered simply on a scrap of paper and messy ink.
Dear Ralof,
A few months back I remember asking if you would write to me. I can't remember the answer but either way that was actually a hint at me asking you to write to me. Unless your life as a Stormcloak is so fascinating it's taken up all your time, can't really blame you though if you're fighting for Nords everywhere.
On other matters I'm sure you would be pleased to know that I'm the Dragonborn…-
Ralof dropped the letter with a gasp, unable to believe his eyes even when he picked the letter back up and read through the particular sentence again. His Faolan? The Dragonborn? He could scarcely believe it.
- and yes I know it's hard to believe but honestly I am. Apparently I'm important or something, I can't really remember. Ignorant I am as you would say.
Oh! And I've now got a house-carl as well; you and I were talking about how glorious it would be to have one on the way to Riverwood weren't we? Well she's called Lydia and she is in fact very different to what we joked about.
Though she does literally everything I ask of her, it's strange really. But she's nice and she's helping me with my penmanship which as you can see is STILL terrible. Anyhow I'm sure you're busy doing your duties and I'm more than likely disturbing you.
Stay safe Ralof or by Talos I will come after you in Sovngarde,
Faolan
Ralof found himself smiling as he finished reading the letter, amused at how the younger girl's voice seemed to float off the page and flow through his ears; making him feel warm and at ease as he fell back down against the uncomfortable bed with his fingers brushing against the ink of the letter, staining them just a little at the tip.
He decided that he would write a letter in reply tomorrow after meeting with Ulfric and Galmar-Stone Fist, for now he placed the letter on his desk and rolled over to dream of the time when he and Faolan would meet face-to-face once again.
"Ralof of Riverwood."
Ralof jumped from his chair at the calling of his name, marching forward to bow slightly at seeing that none other than Jarl Ulfric was speaking to him in the Stormcloak's barracks, an odd venture for the Jarl to have but either way Ralof knew that it was his duty to remain respectful even if this was his ground to walk on as freely as he wanted.
Ulfric gestured with a hand for him to sit back down, smiling slightly in a way that made Ralof feel smug at having the opportunity to speak to the rightful High King without anyone else listening in.
Well that was until Ulfric picked up the letter from Faolan he had been reading and gave him a look that made his blood turn to ice and for the happiness that had soaked into Ralof's limbs at receiving yet another letter transform into horror, what in Talos could the man be thinking? That Ralof was sending letters to imperial spies? Windhelm had been cracking down on couriers as of late…
"Who is this?" Ulfric asked him as he held the letter up to his face, voice heavy and husky in a way that sent shivers down Ralof's spine. "I have not heard of this name before."
The Nord knew not to feel relief right at this very moment and so withheld it from his facial expression, instead sipping noisily at his mead and looking up at the Jarl of Windhelm through fair lashes.
"She's a friend of mine sir," he answered as honestly as he could because despite the longing he felt for her and everything about Faolan, he would not yet tell her until he was once more face to face with her. "She was with us at Helgen with us, do you not remember?"
Ulfric gazed down at the letter with another smile that seemed less genuine than the first he had regarded Ralof with. "I see. It says here that she…Got saved by the Companions of Whiterun? Saved?"
Ralof resisted the urge to laugh blatantly in Ulfric's face and instead tried to murmur his answer as softly as he could. "She was almost arrested for thievery my Jarl but Kodlak White-Mane paid off her bounty before they could drag her into the prisons."
This drew a laugh from the Jarl, making Ralof's head snap up to gaze at the other Nord with curiosity.
"Feisty, we could need someone like her to join our ranks." Ulfric told him with a gleam in his eye, passing Ralof back the letter. "Make sure you tell your girl that hm?"
Unable to stop himself from flushing in embarrassment at the not so subtle hint coming from Ulfric, Ralof nodded weakly in response as he watched Ulfric leave the barracks to make his way back up the stairs to the personal headquarters of the Palace of Kings.
Was Faolan his girl? Sometimes it felt like she was the only one who he thought about and she most certainly was the only one who actually received letters off him without having to wait for years.
Nodding glumly to himself and his thoughts Ralof reached for the letter again and read through the last paragraph of the letter, this part was his favourite.
…And I hope you don't mind but you are now officially my 'husband' to the people in Whiterun after an incident which may or may not involve me handing Mikael's arse to him for trying to grope mine. Thanks husband.
Faolan (Your wife apparently)
Ralof leaned back in his chair to stare fondly at the inked writing, slightly proud at seeing that Faolan's penmanship had gotten considerably better thanks to Lydia (who already Ralof liked very much) and her patience.
A hand slapped him on the shoulder, jolting him from his daydreaming to stare up at a recruit that held out a package for him.
"What is it Birk?" Ralof asked with a grumble, taking the package and putting it over the letter so that nobody else would see.
Birk shrugged. "Don't know, don't care. Said not to open until your birthday, off some woman called Faolan.
And really that was all Ralof needed to know.
The first time Ralof actually grew angry at Faolan's letters was the first time she began mentioning a certain name a hideous amount of times, making the letter longer than it needed to be and causing a certain itch inside his chest that caused him enough annoyance he had to lie down in his bed. That's Aela for you, always getting you out of trouble though this time she said if I keep getting caught then this is the last time she'll pay my bounty o I don't mind that much, personally I think she feels that I'm charming enough that she'll do it anyway.
Dear Ralof,
Got caught thieving again, but don't panic because Aela is getting me out soon enough.
Though…She's really different from the other people I've met around here in Whiterun, she lets me go on hunts with her (which I'm terrible at, Aela keeps reminding me that if I don't be more quiet when hunting with her I'll actually become the 'hunted') and gets me mead like you used to when my age gets in the way. That and she doesn't hold back on me when we brawl like the other Companions do – well, apart from Njada.
I think you would like her Ralof, she reminds me of you a little but she's more…Intense. Not that I don't think your intense! You ARE apparently my husband after all. Just add some war paint on you and you'll be fine.
Oh did you like your birthday present? Aela and Farkas helped me craft it and so I hope you like it even though you aren't really into bows, you never know it might actually be useful! Just make sure you get a Thalmor for me!
Aela says 'hello' by the way. And if you ever meet her and she insisted she didn't then don't believe her. She's lying.
Hope you're having fun without me!
Faolan
Ralof glared at the oaken bow he had cherished since his birthday with a look in his eye that could melt even the finest of steels, not truly knowing why he felt so insistent on throwing the bow away as soon as he could but it still ate at him anyhow until he lost sleep for three days straight.
Galmar had given him one of the fiercest beatings he had ever received in his life that left him bruised inside and out, all because he couldn't sleep anymore with that oaken bow lying either under his bed or across him on the desk that he shared with Birk.
It was ridiculous and petty to let something like a bow – which had been made by his sweetheart's sweetheart, if that was what Aela was to Faolan – haunt his sleep and waking hours equally, yet it still continued to do so.
Birk walked in then, disturbing his thoughts with his loud cluttering and the grumbling of how Galmar needed to 'hop off Ulfric's cock every once in a while' which whilst would have been amusing at another time was now in fact just infuriating.
"Got another letter for you Ralof," Birk told him with another grumble, dropping the parchment on his lap before he proceeded to slump back on his own bed opposite to other man. "Off your girl again I suspect, nice to see that you're keeping in touch after how many years is it now? Two?"
Ralof normally would have smiled at the mention of Faolan being his girl but instead found himself grumbling moodily to himself, ripping open the parchment to stare at briefly before he balanced it on his knee to meet Birk straight in the eyes.
"She still hasn't even come up here once to visit me," Ralof pointed out to the other Nord, watching the rhythm in which Birk cleaned his sword. "Girl said she'd join the Stormcloaks as soon as she could, two years on and I haven't seen her once in this bloody city."
Birk snorted at him, continuing to clean his sword which filled the room with the sound of squeaking cotton against steel, causing Ralof to wince each time the maddening squeaking filled his ears as though his own thoughts were not enough to torment him.
"You know what you need Ralof?" Birk told him over the continuing racket of the ratty cotton rubbing against his steel sword that looked oddly appropriate when in taking into consideration the filthy lecher also had a sinful smirk pasted on his face. "A good lay, get your mind off your girl for a while. It's what I do anyway when I'm feeling stressed and when my wife can't be arsed to get off her buttocks and come visit."
Ralof's mind curled away in disgust at the suggestion because yes he was a man and he had needs but he was also an honourable Nord and respected women enough that he wouldn't go dallying with women he did not know, he was not like Birk and would never be like the other Nord when it came to these sort of things and for that he was extremely grateful over his self-control.
"Thanks friend but I will politely decline," Ralof told Birk with a haughty raise of his brows, grabbing the parchment off his knee and lying on his side to face the wall to give himself more privacy.
Dear Ralof,
Did you know there are 500 different ingredients that make the absolute same thing? I didn't know that. Marcurio's been teaching me you see.
And something else that is weird, today I managed to kill TWO dragons but I almost got mauled by a polar bear on the way back to Riften; how in Talos is that fair?
I'll be coming up to Windhelm soon by the way once I sort some things out in Whiterun with the Companions – did I mention I'm Harbinger now? And I still can't get my own drinks…Well, certain drinks anyway – and then I'm all yours my apparent husband!
Hope you haven't forgotten about me after two years! I know I haven't forgotten about you, I still remember the talk we had before I left Helgen.
I just wanted you to know that I meant every word.
Faolan
Ralof is more than freezing in the treacherous, winter marshes that his stuck in along with the rest of his commandment and Galmar, waiting for some poor sod who Galmar had said 'was almost miraculously, stupidly good when it came to weaponry' to catch up with them at Korvanjund.
He rubbed at his arms with his usual ferocity each time he wandered out into the cold environment like Korvanjund, though it was more than worth it and secretly despite what his letters to his sister and Faolan said, he was more than pleased to be able to live the life had always wanted as a Stormcloak for a king he loved dearly.
This love and fierce loyalty he held for his king was what had kept him occupied for the past three months of silently waiting for Faolan's arrival, yet it still did stop the oncoming thoughts of jealousy and curiosity that waded through his mind with such a high intensity it felt like a war of blood and fire was raging inside his head.
Galmar's eyes flickered upwards in front of Ralof, catching his attention fast enough that Ralof steeled himself not to feel the surprised that threatened to creep up on him at the sound of Galmar's harsh shouting that echoed through the icy trees.
"There you flamin' are you bloody runt!" Galmar's voice droned through Ralof's one ear to exit out the other, it is a vicious and never-ending cycle whenever it comes to Galmar or it is in Ralof's experience. "What, you thought we were going to wait forever? You are damn lucky I didn't go in without you!"
Ralof couldn't help but agree with Galmar for once, sighing in irritation at the indecency of the late recruit that had arrived and rubbing at his shoulders to try and get the warmth back into his bones; a ridiculous method when took into serious consideration but by Talos he had never been so cold in his life; and he was a Nord!
And then for what felt like the first time for such a long time, time stopped.
Not literally of course and it wasn't as if someone had Shouted and had slowed time, no it felt as though time had slowed to a halt and the only thing that made any sense was the unsteady beat of Ralof's heart in his throat and the sound of a voice that he had never thought to hear so soon.
"Well I had a problem with my horse and Lydia here got ataxia so I had to go find some herbs to cure that up and…"
Ralof turned with his eyes widened in surprise and his mouth hung open as though it had been dragged open by fingers and thumbs, unable to believe that the woman walking towards him (the woman) with such fragile – yet strong – armour that reflected the white flakes of snow on the ground, was the little girl had had seen leave Helgen two years ago.
"Faolan!" He called out to the staggering blonde Nord, lifting up his helmet to get a better look at her and resisting the urge to drop his sword and shield and sweeping her up into the biggest hug he could muster. Ralof didn't want to look like a bigger fool than Galmar thought of him.
Faolan looked up from her feet to stare at him, eyes widening in shock and realization at seeing him right in front of her, especially after the longest two years Ralof had ever experienced in his life.
Her squeak brought him back into reality, however before he could still himself against another cold gust of wind he found himself wrapped in a tight hug with her nose buried in the crook of his neck; breathing deeply in and out to warm his skin in the process.
"Ralof, I can't believe it's you…" Ralof heard the younger Nord mutter with a sniff that made him assume that she too felt the barge of emotions that made his heart thud frenziedly against his chest.
Faolan pulled back to face him, nails clutching at the chainmail that covered his arms and chest. "Talos! You've gotten older! A bit greyer too! Well old man, haven't you been looking after yourself?"
"It's hard to look after myself with a war going on and you ending up in every flamin' jail across Skyrim," Ralof told her with a bark that is both disappointed and still so affectionate that the blonde woman laughed at him and patted him sharply on the shoulder.
Faolan went to answer but forced her mouth to shut the very moment Galmar stepped in between them both, glancing at them with a grimace on his expression. "Glad you're finally with us Romeo! By Talos…Line up with the rest of the men runts! And whatever the heck your follower's name is!"
"Lydia!" Faolan told the back of Galmar's back helpfully, smirking sinfully when the man simply growled back at her.
Ralof met the house-carl's gaze, smiled sympathetically at her before he shrugged his shoulders, turning back to give Galmar his full attention.
"Is she still as reckless with her mouth as well as her sword?" He mumbled from the corner of his mouth to the house-carl, refusing to let new knowledge of Faolan's life without him slip away from his grasp.
Lydia shifted her feet beside him, granting Ralof some sort of communication that he accepted with a tilt of his head whilst desperately trying to take in what Galmar was saying as well as listening to Faolan's house-carl speak.
"Oh yes, reckless as ever. It's easy to let her mouth run away from her," Lydia told him and Ralof couldn't help but watch the other Nord's fingers jab and curve around the hilt of her glass longsword. "It's getting her to shut up which is the trick."
Ralof hid his smile well enough with a cough; yes Lydia jested but the affection in her voice and in the way she looked at the blonde Nord was unmistakable and at worst Ralof felt envious about how much time Lydia had spent with Faolan whilst he had been away fighting Imperials.
Galmar stopped giving orders then to draw his sword from his sheath, directing the men to follow him up the snowy path that would lead to a secret entrance of Korvanjund that not even the Imperials could find.
Faolan tagged along beside him with a smile on her face and Ralof had never been happier.
"It's a weird shape isn't it?" Faolan muttered sleepily from the bed roll next to Ralof's own, eyes squinting at him in the dark as he examined the crown they had plucked from the ruins.
Ralof eyed her with amusement, tossing the crown to the Dragonborn with such accuracy that it managed to land almost perfectly on the top of her head. "It's a crown girl, no weird shape about it. Besides, it's not like we're going to wear it."
Faolan rolled her eyes at him, taking the crown off her head and placing it in Lydia's satchel with a secretive smile on her face; looking as though she wanted to tell him something and was actually thrumming with the thought of actually knowing something he didn't.
"What?" He urged the younger girl with a nudge of his elbow, granting her a smile when Faolan gazed across the tent at him with a tender smile on her face. "Come girl, enough with the looks! You want to tell me something?"
The blonde woman gave him a shifty look before she looked over her shoulder from the tent they both rested in, looking out for Birk and the other Stormcloak soldiers that had whistled at them both as they had entered the tent together – Ralof had never wanted the ground to swallow him up as he had wanted it then – with Ralof's hand fastened tightly on her shoulder.
"If I tell you," she started with a whisper, leaning in closer until Ralof could just about feel her warm breath on his lips. "You have to promise not to be mouthing off about it to the other soldiers, I don't want them knowing anything about it."
Ralof smirked and rolled onto his back with a sigh causing his lips to part. "Tell me the good news then girl lest I lose interest."
Faolan moved over towards him with a hand curling at the fabric of his tunic, clumping it together with enough pressure that it made Ralof shudder underneath the graze of her nails and how it suddenly felt as though his world was spinning just under her touch.
"I'm getting married!" She declared with a happy laugh and a wave of her hand, showing off a glint of sapphire adorned into the wooden circular ring that rested on Faolan's marriage finger. "You'll never guess who to! By all the Divines I didn't expect it myself either but…"
Ralof felt his heart hit the bottom of his stomach at the news that would have filled him with the most joyous feeling ever if it had been him, if it had been him declaring that he was going to be marrying this magnificent woman (no longer a child) right next to him and that everyone they knew could be invited as long as the ceremony made it clear that Ralof loved the Dragonborn dearly.
For a moment he imagined coming home to their house in Windhelm after finishing with training or going off fighting to see her there with her nose in a book, looking as enraptured with the smelly musk that books always held in the same amount that she was enraptured with the creation of steel, iron, ebony and so forth…
It would have been so perfect and it would have been everything Ralof had decided not to have the moment he had declared himself a faithful Stormcloak; the only loyalty and affection being to the High King named Ulfric.
Faolan seemed to notice his change in mood because she soon got up from lying on his chest and backed away, head tilted to the side to regard him with a look that made his insides churn in lust and jealousy; jealousy that some cretin in Whiterun (for he knew who it was) would wake up every day and see that expression every single day of their life whilst Ralof wasted away in a war that he was in to make sure people like his girl (his Faolan) didn't become slaves to the Thalmor!
How was it fair that he who fought for freedom – for everything right in Skyrim – could get such a lesser deal in Faolan's life? Had it not been him who had helped her make her way out of Helgen? Had it not been him and his sister to lick at her wounds? Bathe her? Feed her? Had it not been him who had sent letters to her every chance he could? How could something so pure and so invigoratingly good become so tainted in just three words?
"Wow old man…" Faolan's voice broke Ralof away from his thoughts, causing him to stare at her with his one bright eyes a dull metal of blue steel. "I thought you would be a bit happier considering you're going to be the one giving me away, that is if you don't mind of course but Lydia suggested the idea in the first place and…"
The younger Nord stopped at seeing the pained expression on Ralof's face, closing her lips with a gulp accompanying her facial movements whilst her eyes tracked a path over Ralof's face in hope that if she looked hard enough she would see something that would tell her the answers on why he was in so much pain all of a sudden.
"Ralof…" She started before he interrupted her again, getting up from his position to tug on his boots and fur coat with such ferocity it actually made her wince just watching him.
Ralof refused to listen anymore and he knew it was childish and not like him at all but he can't stay in this tent anymore and listen to her saying things such as he would be the one to give her away; he would not be the one, he refused and that was that.
Call him selfish (for that was what he was) but he could not give away the one thing that had kept him fighting for two years. He could not.
He rushed out the tent into the treacherous winter marshes, brushing past Faolan's house carl and stumbling forward until he hit the dirt path that would lead him to his destination; forcing himself into a run and to rush down the snowy path until his lungs burned and his legs felt numb against the oncoming sting of ice that he ignored as any Nord did.
Once nearing the lake that he had previously been drinking from in the early hours of the morn he scooped up snow in his palm and pressed it against his face, jolting him and making his heart thud at such a fast pace that for a second he grew dizzy and almost fell onto his arse in pain yet repressed the feeling and movement – he would not let his emotions control him as they had been doing so ever since Faolan had stumbled into his life.
The oak bow on his shoulder (light, supple, beautiful) weighed him down of the reminder of Faolan's marriage, heavy enough that it made him fall to his knees with dry sobs escaping him at how foolish he had been to think that she would have waited for him after all these years, how he had been foolish to think he had any claim on Faolan in the first place when it was clear her heart belonged to another.
How many times had he lied to himself and his friends about her? Faolan, his girl? More like his loss.
A snarl escaped him and the anger that had always been there hidden underneath his very skin emerged in a matter of moments, the rage inside of him causing him to snap upwards and grab at the oak bow and snap it in two before throwing it into the icy depths before him – refusing to feel guilt even when its jaws snapped at him.
Tonight he would sleep here in the cold. Right where he had been left.
Dear Ralof,
I'm sorry.
Please answer me. I need you there at my wedding. I need you to be there so we can both let go of the ties that we didn't know we both shared for one another.
I loved you.
A part of me always will.
So please. Come to Riften.
Aela may be my wife but you Ralof, you shall always be my husband.
Love Faolan
PS: I'll make you your favourite pie if you come. Promise.
First Skyrim fic, slightly nervous. Grateful if anyone can give constructive criticism :)