floscaedis

[floscaedis]

me when i see people appreciating the evil / 'bad' characters that most people hate:

[floscaedis]

sylvestre the kinda guy to shake his head at others for being overly sexual while he's literally got like three whores waiting for him in the bedroom  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[floscaedis]

i am not a serious person

[floscaedis]

munday asks!

🌈 — name(s) & pronouns 🎈 — gender and/or sexuality 🎂 — age and/or birthday 💕 — single or taken? ⭐️ — sun, moon, & rising signs, if known 💭 — MBTI and/or enneagram, if known ❓ — three adjectives that describe you ❤️ — what are some of your best qualities? 💔 — what are some of your worst qualities? ✨ — what would you change about yourself, if anything? 💘 — what and/or who do you consider near and dear to you? 🚗 — what vehicle(s) do you drive? ✈️ — ever traveled anywhere interesting? ⌨️ — what operating system(s) do you use? 📱 — mobile or desktop version of tumblr? 🖥 — favorite platform besides tumblr? 🎮 — favorite video game(s)? 🖱 — any cool devices/tool(s) of the trade? (i.e. type of mouse, monitor, keyboard, tablet, etc) 💍 — any piercings? 💎 — want any (more) piercings? 🖊 — any tattoos? 🔏 — want any (more) tattoos? 🎄 — favorite holiday(s)? 🍝 — favorite food(s)? 🍦 — favorite ice cream flavor(s)? 🍰 — favorite sweet(s)/dessert(s)? 🐶 — any pets? 😍 — celebrity crush(es)? 😊 — any career desires? 📚 — if you’re in college, what’s your level (undergrad, grad, phd, etc) and/or degree program? 😖 — what annoys you? 🎶 — favorite song at the moment? 📕 — favorite book/series? 🧶 — any non-writing hobbies/interests? 📺 — favorite movie(s) and/or tv show(s)? 📇 — does your url have a meaning? if so, what is it? ✏️ — how long have you been roleplaying on tumblr? ✍️ — what other platforms have you roleplayed on? 🗒 — what is/are your favorite genre(s)/theme(s) to write? 🤔 — what genre(s)/theme(s) do you struggle to write the most? 😁 — what’s your favorite part about being part of the rpc? 😤 — what do you dislike the most about being part of the rpc? 💻 — how many friends have you made in the rpc? feel free to tag a few of them! 🎧 — do you write while listening to music/podcasts/videos/etc, or do you need total silence? 🤗 — are there any rpc mutuals that you’d like to meet irl? 😀 — are there any rpc mutuals that you’ve met irl before? 💖 — what was one of the greatest/happiest moments you’ve had in the rpc? 🖤 — what was one of the worst/most depressing moments you’ve had in the rpc? 😳 — what was your most embarrassing moment in the rpc? 🎁 — what have you accomplished in the rpc that you’re proud of? 🫂 — how many friends are in your irl friend group(s)? 🎉 — what are some of your favorite things to do with your irl friends? 😗 — what are some of your favorite things to do when you have some time to yourself? 💯 — share three random facts about yourself that your mutuals may not know about you.

[floscaedis]

😎 ( I double checked 3 times to send the right one. )

SIMPLE SHIPPING MEME!

Send 😎 if you would like to explore a FAMILIAL relationship between our muses!

(( but of course ~! any other would be pretty scary lmao; i am super down for discussing the dynamic of their relationship & different plots surrounding it! i write sylvestre as caring very deeply for his sons and showing this care for them more-so privately than outwardly ( in front of others, he'd come off as a stern, proud father - but not one doting on his boys - behind closed doors, on the other hand, he dotes entirely on them ). i'm always game for plotting and discussing stories surrounding their relationship ~ ! ))

[floscaedis]

[from emberblooded] Every man carried two faces. That much was known. But who would have thought that behind the mask of a strong emperor was a soft heart? She had had an inkling of it the first time they had met and yet it was an unwelcome surprise nonetheless. Anabella stepped closer to him, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

"Olivier cried at Luncheon when you missed it today," she told him, placing a hand on his arm. A mild frown crossed hear features speaking of concern. "He is getting soft. I fear he might not be able to serve the nation if this will continue.... my love, do you not think you are too soft with him?"

@emberblooded / (( i lov u thankee for this owo ))

the night is young and yet he'd chosen to retire - take a much needed rest as he'd witness the sun drip gold unto the sea beneath it. in truth - peace had been a fortunate thing to bask in, seconds spent admiring the view before words ( and touch ) have his attention. slender fingers dancing their way atop his arm, a touch met with his own - a strong hand ( yet, one still soft enough to tinker with flowers ) entwining with her own. a slow graze that sees fingers stroke skin; admire the beauty he'd once fallen for (still yet to land ).

"oh - he did, hm?" it's a thought that had certainly crossed his mind before - his doting, the love he'd showered his sons with - perhaps a little too kindly. he had always been a soft touch when it had come to his boys; always embraced them rather than ever scold them.

he thinks back to when dion were a boy - a polite child but one, rambunctious, none-the-less. he can recall the time that the boy had shown him up in front of court. on the outside, he had been strict - firm. behind closed doors? not so much. in fact - he'd chuckled alongside the boy. told him ( in private, of course ) to never deter himself from his own values. to always fight for what he believes is right - even ( blasphemy! ) should it defy great greagor herself.

alas; annabella's words encourage a swelling in his heart, a dash of eyes from her to the balcony - a beauty he still admires. one he fears he shouldn't. perhaps he'd dwelled too long on the finer things in life - love and romance. perhaps he'd gotten soft in his old age; no longer the proud dragoon of yesterday but instead a weak emperor of today.

should great greagor have really been born again through him then surely she'd have blessed him with strength-?

"perhaps-" he mulls over her comment, keeps his hand gripped in hers but lessens his hold slightly. sighs silently as worry is roused - an ugly seed once pushed someplace deep, now budding - dared to be born by the woman before him. "perhaps you are right..."

dion, though he was the dominant of bahamut and as strong as anybody sylvestre knew - had an unfathomable softer side. a compassion unbecoming of the dragon; a sweetness surely left a stain by his father.

to think about it - to really think about -

has sylvestre quieter than usual. dion is strong enough to be kind, he thinks, olivier is not.

what if a soft touch made the boy weak? what if annabella's fears could come true?

he squeezes the grip he has on her hand; greets her gaze with her own, a press of lips against her forehead - and a whisper betwixt his kiss.

"once again - my love - you remind this old man of who he ought to be-" there's gratefulness in his voice; a genuine 'thank you' for the woman he adores "our child will grow strong-" pride curls the corners of his lips "as strong as dion - strong enough to take the throne."

[floscaedis]

perhaps he has been in his own head too long - thoughts running circles around one another; indecisiveness simply not befitting of an emperor. alas, he can't save the sigh that escapes his lips - gaze lowered to the ground; porcelain tiles observed for cracks. despite looking, he sees none.

"strange-" he ponders "my mind..." to express doubt is something done only with his most trusted close by; still, his thoughts allude him and despite his company - he can't help but speak a truth. "does not quite feel my own."

perhaps all he needs is comfort; a woman on his lap or wine on his lips - perhaps all he needs - is a distraction.

[floscaedis]

sylvestre's insecurity.

and annabella playing on it -

despite his absolute confidence and steadfast attitude ( as well as his time as a ruler & the things done in his name ) - i see sylvestre as an effeminate, softer sort of man. behind closed doors - he's all gentle touches and a low voice; he's delicate with his sons, with his lovers & underlings. he could be described as 'nice' behind closed doors. compassionate and sweet. thoughtful, even.

on the outside - as emperor - he is powerful, stern. a man with a commanding tone and stoic expression. this isn't necessarily a lie, it's more of a 'work face' that he puts on. someone like dion, for example, knows him for the man he is in private - not the incarnation of greagor that sits atop the throne. ( one could even argue the two to be two different personas )

where does annabella come into this headcanon - and why?

well; immediately upon meeting annabella, sylvestre was attracted to her. he saw this beautiful blonde, her expression - icy cold, her strength - a quiet sort. and he liked what he saw. she absolutely played on this; she charmed him in private, and he - thought - he was charming her. the two began their affair, began to scheme. the two did what they did -

after the events ending with his marriage to annabella - she would continue to whisper thoughts unto him. 'don't you think that you're a little...soft' - 'perhaps you're too kind to your boys. a boy like olivier will grow weak when his father is so soft on him'. 'would greagor be so frail in the face of other nations?' , 'you know as well as i how beneath us bearers are-'

i don't want to pile everything on annabella. this is all headcanon & speculation. the point that i am trying to make is that i think that she played on already growing insecurities. in truth, sylvestre knew how 'nice' he could be. he knew how soft he was - how kind he'd been to his sons. to have somebody contiously whisper in your ear that it's perhaps not 'fine form' to be so 'weak' in front of ones sons, certainly started to play on his mind. it started to hurt, it started to rouse anger and insecurity -

she easily manipulated him by using a good trait of his against him - and more-so, convincing him it were a bad thing. as well as this;

sylvestre's closeness with the wyvern tails perhaps played a part in descent but, that's a headcanon for another day~

[floscaedis]

👌💋 with athena. borderline or full ❤️ if you're down for that too uvu

SIMPLE SHIPPING MEME!

Send 👌 if you would like to explore a PLATONIC relationship between our muses!

Send 💋 if you would like to explore a SEXUAL relationship between our muses!

Send ❤️ if you would like to explore a ROMANTIC relationship between our muses!

(( i am ~so down~ for it all - ! i see sylvestre as being very open when it comes to lovers (& write him as having a wandering eye). not to mention, the man is super easily manipulated by a pretty face - so we could certainly go down the route of either a purely sexual ship ( a give & take sort of deal ), an actual romance blossoming ( a softer ship ), a more toxic sorta deal OR something entirely platonic perhaps focusing more on them working together. whichever sounds most appealing to you ~ i'm down for! ))

[floscaedis]

SIMPLE SHIPPING MEME!!

Send 👌 if you would like to explore a PLATONIC relationship between our muses!

Send 😎 if you would like to explore a FAMILIAL relationship between our muses!

Send ❤️ if you would like to explore a ROMANTIC relationship between our muses!

Send 💋 if you would like to explore a SEXUAL relationship between our muses!

Send 💥 if you would like to explore a ANTAGONISTIC relationship between our muses!

Send ❓ for a different dynamic - and tell me more about it!

[floscaedis]

“What had become of him? He searched and could not find himself.”

— Victor Hugo, Les Misérables (transl. C. Donougher)

[floscaedis]

it's a surprising struggle to keep oneself composed whilst within the thralls of passion - the holy emperor long left at the castle gates - the man instead laid between her legs, only sylvestre now. she would feel the heat in the hands that free her of the confines of clothes - hear the quickening breath of a man all-too-eager to make her his own ( or rather - give himself entirely to her ).

his lips hardly leave her despite their toil to get the two of them undressed - his hunger, the whip of his tongue atop of skin - the lightest press of fangs on flesh. hands reluctant to pull from her form and only spared to adjust himself into position; his hardened member grasped between fingers, held and teased as she speaks - a little self-indulgence to ready him for her warmth.

"only you-" he purrs, face pressed to her bosom, a flurry of kisses - words littered atop her skin, each and every breath - the decree of a man entirely hers. "only ever you-" he repeats, a mantra recalled with every kiss.

the tremble of his thighs - a desire begging him to act, a desire that has him pressing his body into her own - teasing her ( but more-so, himself ) with the fervor of her affection. with hips edging only slightly forth, he can feel the very tip of his sensitivity succumb to her heat - his thirst quenched by the dew between her legs. if only she'd have him all now; take every inch as any good woman would - place her hands on his chest, lock her tongue with his own and love him as a goddess would.

he continues the gentle rock of his hips, his member throbbing between her legs; the twitch of his body, a pulse that begs for her touch. just as his heart beat for her - his body does much of the same.

"allow me the pleasures of your body-" his hands search the curves of her form - seek out her own in order to place them against his chest; the light curls of blonde atop a body, athletic - and despite his age, well kept.

his words are soon held by the graze of his teeth atop her shoulder and neck; his hunger for her - one that makes him eager enough to grip hands suddenly around her behind - squeeze her hard enough to have her slip almost entirely onto him ( and him, entirely into her ). the softest moan as his cock edges deeper - a moan soon silenced by fangs, now marring his lover.

"let me love you- my dear, flower-"

Melissa's breathing caught in her throat when Sylvestre managed to obtain advantage of the fabric of her nightgown - as lips closed over a breast and he offered tangible proof of the devotion he mentioned aloud a moment later, the courtesan gasped softly and unconsciously tightened the grip around the member that she had sequestered in their little playful act.

Looking down to the emperor, Melissa took a moment to appreciate the way he spoke of such things with a forbidden edge of worship - in a nation that did not take its faith lightly, these declarations were powerful. Their allure went beyond religion in itself, or even the crown - the woman knew the way a bond like theirs could change the destiny of an empire or fate itself, but for that moment... She did not care for the greater game of politics.

As amusing as the thought was, the courtesan had genuine affection for Sylvestre. Not all her lovers were experienced or dedicated like his; his willingness to be seen outside his role and to indulge her whims was a dangerous addiction, one that lingered over the course of the days whenever Melissa donned a piece of jewelry gifted by the emperor or decorated her home with flowers sent by him.

And there it was - Melissa did not need to pretend to enjoy him or to cater to his ego out of duty; the way her body responded to the imperial speeches and heated touch was proof in itself, and his hand teasing the woman above him for more made her moan softly. His Radiance had a point - their garments were frustratingly in the way of something far more pleasurable.

"A fair trade," the brunette conceded, smirking at the man who had somehow made incredible progress in disrobing her when he didn't have a lot of room to maneuver. But Melissa seemed to be convinced - her hands worked to first push herself up, regrettably losing the touch to her innermost area, but a necessary step to push the waistband of his slacks down, freeing the man from his last item of clothing.

For Melissa, the nightdress was removed over her head, the final piece of underwear requiring his assistance to be rolled down her hips until her legs could deal with the item less gracefully than she desired but nonetheless effectively. Shaking her head slowly and allowing the long, chestnut hair to cascade over a bare back, the courtesan returned to her throne of choice - Sylvestre Lesage in all his glory, bodies pressed together while she sought his lips for another kiss.

"Your devotion means no small token of gratitude; tell me what you wish in return for it, my beloved," her voice washed over his skin, the lingering suggestion of a promise - of not only being his, but unconditionally so, "Tell me what type of blessing you seek at this altar."

[floscaedis]

Choosing an unpopular character as your favorite like

[floscaedis]

" father, " dion looks up at sylvestre very seriously, blond brows furrowed to a frown. " did mother not love me? " / bc they def had this convo at some point (from @petrokhelidon)

he knew this question would come someday. the curious eyes of his kin; the sadness in dion's voice. its a day that the emperor had dreaded, a day - despite all his wisdom - he'd never been quite ready for.

for all his devotion - his life, dedicated, to great greagor ; nought could cure a man's imperfections. his own...imperfections. the wandering eye of an emperor with it all at his behest; the many, so willing to get on their knees. and she had been one of them-

a woman whose name he hardly remembers. a woman whose body had spoken more words than her lips - he still recalls the dirty blonde of her hair, the thick of her lips. can recall the night that they'd spent together but not another thing about her.

only that she'd been bought well; that it'd not taken her much to give up the dominant. he'd wondered from time to time where she was now - alluded it best not to think about.

soon enough, his lips part to speak; a rare hesitation that sees him hum before speaking. "my son-" his hand parts from his cane, fingers pressing around the boy's shoulder "your mother..."

your mother was a complicated matter - is what he initially thinks to say. spin a web and make it all seem more than it is. how else could he possibly tell dion?

"...she was a sickly woman." it almost pains him to tell such a lie "she had not the strength to raise you" his hand shifts from the blonde's shoulder to his chin, the softest smile ( though one also made of lies ) offered unto his boy. "nor love you, as i have-"

he pauses for a moment, hopes to change the subject with a turn of his head toward the sky, whispers neath his breath as he looks toward the crystal. "great greagor; only an empire is befitting of bahamut."

not some whorehouse.

[floscaedis]

blue salvia (i think of you) — “here. this made me think of you.” (From Athena)

flower language prompts ˗ˏˋ꒰ 🐚 ꒱

his gaze had been elsewhere - the emperor distracted, snapped from his trance at the delight of a flower slipped between his fingers. hazel eyes shift toward her - and then the gift. its petals, brittle, but enough to last - its colour, a deep azure that rivals even that of the crystal. for a second, he loses himself to its bud. admires the soft skin of its petals - the stem, that feels enough like velvet to fool a man. he thinks of its connotation - one of longing; a bittersweet lament shared between friends.

had he really drifted so far away-?

a few moments of thought are soon betrayed by a slow inhale - its scent admired, a sweet smell that does well to disguise its darkness. just as his empire held both the scent of its flora & its war - in between his fingers ( and amidst his mind ) sits a conflict.

"hm-" silence holds his tongue a prisoner for less than a minute - the blonde turning to face her, the flower between his fingers never faltering - even as he holds his hand to her cheek, strokes knuckles atop flesh in a manner more gentle than any emperor ever ought to be. "am i so distant these days?"

[floscaedis]

❀ aster (symbol of love, daintiness) — “i’m not fragile, y’know.”

flower language prompts ˗ˏˋ꒰ 🐚 ꒱

"hm - so it would seem" he toils with the goblet in hand - swirls wine, almost loses sight to the whirlwind of red soon to grace his lips. ( oh, how he thirsts for it - it may just do well to clear his mind ). alas, for now - he pulls his gaze back unto the phoenix. a boy with whom he has an almost odd connection - the woman beside him connecting the two of them, a thin tether ( if even that ).

"such is the blessing of the eikon." and with that, he finally gives into temptation - satiates his thirst with a sip of wine. it tastes, honestly, rather awful. he chooses not to dwell on it. "of course, your ailing health is no secret-" he casts a glance between joshue and annabella - would dare not intrude upon matters by blood but then, had he not already done so once before? "your mother-" her eyes would surely alight "has told me all i need to know about you, young phoenix."

[floscaedis]

"Father!" Olivier's voice echoes on the hallway as the small frame rushes from one edge to the other directly towards his father peacefully sitting on his chair. It was clear his mother was nowhere close, for once, seeing as the boy was completely ignoring the etiquette he should follow. Instead, he drops himself over his father's legs, resting his head over the man's lap as he would his mother. He lifts his toy towards the man. "He speaks to me. He says he is a friend."

sometimes - he forgets the child's age; forgets what it was to once be that age himself. so bound by rules and regulations - a child meant to behave as if he were an adult. when olivier barges into the room, a speed to rival even that of bahamut's own - sylvestre can't keep the smile from curling the corners of his lips.

it is improper & it is mighty unbecoming of one in line for the empire but...it's his child. his boy.

looking into the lad's eyes; he'd see flickers of dion in there - remembers the warrior for what he once was. very much the same; a rambunctious child with all of the energy of an eikon.

still - nothing much stops the grimace from forming as the boy sits himself atop sylvestre's lap. weight pressed on an age old injury; the familiar pain of an ache that shoots its way up the his thigh. despite it, he does his best not to react - a quick hiss of breath between lips before hands are curling around his lad's waist & keeping him still.

the doll is an odd one; given unto the boy and not let go of since. he'd formed an attachment to it ( as he seemingly had his mother ) - glued to the hip, it would appear. sylvestre somewhat deterred by the boy's attachment to such things. eventually, he would be forced to brave the world - fight a battle & dirty his knuckles.

ha - would annabella ever allow such a thing?

for now - the emperor indulges the child's spirit, a smile across his lips as he places a finger and a thumb on the doll ( a means of shaking one of its wooden arms ).

"oh - he is?" sylvestre smirks before leaning toward his kin, a whisper in the boy's ear as if the two are sharing a secret "and what does he tell you, my boy?"