#I'm a Scholar Not A Knight

[the-noted-collector]

General Blog Information

Hello there! Welcome to this place, however you may have found it. I am Lx/Moth, a storyteller and collector. Of what? Anything I find intriguing.

Under the readmore is basically just oc stuff. It will be added to and changed over time. Likely, I'll try at making masterposts as this blog grows to accompany many of my interests.

OC tags will be of their FL titles, and I will add tags here (both FL and otherwise) as I speak on them. For now, a masterlist:

Luc Buckingham- #The Opulent Enigma

Adam Buckingham- The Bloodied Knight

Samantha Buckingham- The Searing Appraiser

Endemannus Korabl'nikov- The Transformed Captain

Conley- The Elusive Cannibal

Edward Byrne- The Eccentric Host

Gale- The Buzzing Dockworker

Sal- The Venomous Lover

Mary Helianalis- The Once-Doomed Scholar

Grace Helianalis- The Radiant Poisoner

Eckil Portsmoth- The Arrogant Newcomer/The Arrogant Duelist/The Tormented Duelist

We also have many stories! These will be focused on one or two OCs, following their arcs and experiences in the Neath. These stories will be tagged with the story's name.

Endemannus: Former Glory (exploring West, a arc of past and tramua)

Edward: Radio Catalog (Presybterate!Edward arc, involves cult depictions and likely will have body horror and disassociation)

Eckil: Eckil's Tale (Eckil's personal thoughts as I play them in Fallen London)

I also do newspaper shenanigans, all found under 'the jewel post publishes'!

[margridarnauds]

Writing this paper up and I swear to god if I get two publications on this mediocre film before I get anything published in Celtic Studies...

[soulsxng]

@strawberryxdreams replied to your post:

What's your main ffxiv class 👀

Honestly rn I’m trying to finish leveling everything to 90 on my main WoL, so I’m not sure anymore for DPS (I play DPS the least frequently anyway though), since there’s a lot there that I struggled with at first and think are really fun now! RPR, DNC, and MNK are probably top 3?

For tanks, DRK is my favorite for sure, I spend just a little less time playing that than I do my main healer, which is SCH!

[randomdragonfires]

I'm A Fire And I'll Keep Your Brittle Heart Warm [One Shot]

Text Divider by @saradika-graphics

SUMMARY | Flowers come to Aemond in multiple shapes and forms throughout his marriage.

WARNINGS | 18+; Mild Smut.

WORD COUNT | 9.6k

A/N | Yet another repost, yay! This one was written based off an ask sent to me by @wonderbias and beta read by the loml @humanpurposes

Their union began as a fragile, delicate one.

By all accounts, Aemond Targaryen was a fine man that any maiden in the Seven Kingdoms would be proud to be with, should he– a skilled dragonrider, a scholar, a respectful man of honor, a prince worthy of his name and blood– choose to take her to wife. 

If only he was not so stoic and dull, they said. The very jovial little lady of Highgarden will be bored of him in moments!

‘Twas the first of many whispers he heard of his apparent inadequacy with regards to his impending nuptials and marriage, and even though it killed him, he could not bring himself to disagree. The woman that he was to marry – the beautiful, kind, ladylike wisp of a girl that was to be entrusted to him– was a fair maiden who lit up any chamber she graced with her presence, a stark contrast to how he seemed to darken those that he stalked into.

Charming girl like that, she will hate him, they said. The poor thing is probably scared.

Every lady dreamed of chivalrous knights and charming princes, and Aemond knew very well that he was far from being either. They dreamed of charming men who would immortalize them in song, whose looks could thaw the hearts of the coldest women in an instant. Aemond knew very well that the Gods had refused him the chance to even try with her– what with their allowance of his mutilation at a tender, young age. 

Even with just one eye, he saw many possibilities but to his dismay, he did not imagine any outcome would be favorable to him. With the scar he carried on his face and the weight of the world on his shoulders, Aemond was never meant to be the man that his intended deserved. 

And so, he decided that he would keep her at arm's length and in consequence, save his pride. He'd reject her before she rejected him. He may not know it now, but matters of the heart are fickle– and to the utter disappointment of his pride, his little lady rose was very easy to love. 

He would not be caught dead pathetically pining after a woman who would soon be his. He would not.

And so, their courtship remained devoid of romance and scandal. His family was made privy to each of their highly appropriate conversations, with them taking turns in chaperoning their walks through the gardens. 

There was nothing that he wished to share, for he did not want to lose too much. He did what was expected of him, and she did the very same. Soon, there was respect, admiration, and a whole host of burgeoning feelings that Aemond tried hard to suppress - feelings that he clearly did not see in her eyes as she dared to look into his.

How could she feel anything for a stoic, dull, one-eyed man like him?

As he draped the red and black cloak over her shoulder and pledged to be her man of liege and limb, he told himself that he would not try. He would not give into fantasies, only to be met with rejection from a woman who was too good for him; one that may realize it soon enough as well.

After all, Aemond Targaryen had his pride. He would feed himself to the dragons before admitting to someone else being better than him, let alone be rejected by that same person. He was certainly not going to woo her, not when he knew that he would only be met with contempt and disgust.

It did not matter how badly he wanted to. He would not allow himself to succumb to such idyllic daydreams. He would not.

When night fell and the wedding feast was in full swing, his new good-father was the only one who could give his brother a run for his money with how deep he was in his cups. It was obvious how the wine-induced stupor affected the fat lord Tyrell as he bellowed for his daughter and his new good son to take the lead and join in the dancing and merriment.

Aemond was ready to retch at the thought, but what stopped him from making his irritation  clear was the possibility that she may want to dance. His wife. He had seen her dance before– as graceful as an otherworldly swan. She had a better grasp at frivolous courtly affairs than he did. 

His wife may want to dance. His wife, his wife, his wife. A little rose, his.

He shuffled his feet under the cloth-covered long table and allowed his one eye to train over his clothed boots. In spite of all the dancing lessons he had taken with Helaena, Aemond had never indulged before– and now, he was expected to entertain his bride each time a song played. The thought made him want to press his feet into the ground further than he already has, in hopes that perhaps the ground would swallow him whole.

His view of the dancing crowd had been taken from him by half along with his eye. Without the luxury of complete vision, he could not dance without bumping into everyone that was on his blind side. Now, he would have to– if she wanted to. 

He thought he could say no, but he feared that if he were to look her in the eyes, he'd never be able to. Perhaps that was why he had refused to even look at her throughout the ceremony, despite her many admirable– yet failed– attempts to catch his line of sight and share a smile.

It was her meek, mouse-like voice that brought him out of his nervous trance. “We do not have to," she said, the words falling out of her lips like a song.

“You like to dance, my lady,” he said.

“But you do not, my prince. It takes two.” Her surprisingly understanding words were followed by a timid smile, one that threatened to rip through his defenses and get to him.

In the crowded throne room, as his new bride sets aside her happiness to accommodate his preferences, Aemond worried that his self-imposed distance from her may not last too long if she kept offering him kind glances and sweet smiles– no matter how forced and dutiful he knew them to be.

He had much to lose; his pride, his heart. He would not risk it, even if she was seemingly easy to love. He would not. He would not. He would not.

After all, Aemond Targaryen had his pride. 

Soon after, her drunk nuisance of a father had called for the bedding. Aemond did nothing as his trembling bride was ushered away by the handmaidens and ladies, each of them wriggling her jewelry off as she stumbled in her steps before they carried her off.

Should he have asked for a private bedding? In hindsight, he believed he wronged her by throwing her to the mercies of the court in her vulnerability. Equally, he did not want to attempt a show of compassion– not when she may not even welcome it from the one-eyed fiend of a husband that she was stuck with.

When he walked into the chambers in his loose linen shirt and breeches, his breath hitched in his throat. Helaena had once told him that the Septas refer to women’s maidenheads as flowers. “Beautiful, ripe and ready for the plucking,” she had said, keeping her nose pointed upward in her imitations. He'd never given the words much thought. 

Until now.

There she was. His wife, his flower, his rose, ready for plucking, in her translucent white shift and now untamed hair, like a fae in a dream. How could she possibly be his? How could she possibly be happy with a man as monstrous as him for a husband? 

Her eyes, wide and fearful, flittered about his face, in his mind an expression of her repulsion. It pained him to think she did not even give him a chance.

But she was accommodating about my not wanting to dance… 

Perhaps she did like to dance; just not with him. 

These unsaid words and subsequent misunderstandings plagued their wedding night. Both believed the other did not desire them. 

That night, she offered her flower to him– as is her duty– and he took great care in taking it from her. He made sure she was pliant, so that when he took it, she would be as glad and thrilled as he was, regardless of how well-hidden his happiness was. 

He may have grimaced in disgust at Aegon's vulgar demonstrations and lessons about the pleasures of the marital bed, but he was thankful as he heard her moan out his name in a silent scream while she convulsed around his fingers. The silent sounds of her choked out moans and the heat engulfing his fingers may have very well been enough for Aemond to find release, and he reminded himself quickly that she will not want him when they're done. How could she, deformed as he was?

And so, he stopped wanting to be good for her, and simply endeavored to get it done with.

She was only more than willing to allow him to take her flower. If he was not so preoccupied with his own insecurities, he may have seen that it had gone past duty for her. Her loud moans proved the fact, and left little room for dispute (or doubt, in the minds of the prying ears that stayed close to the doors of their chambers, and the sharp eyes of the council who were now shuffling out of their seats).

He inched into her, and her tears and turned face only seemed to make it harder for him. Was he so beyond hope that she could not even look? What was it? Had he hurt her? He did not ask, lest he risk finding out that he was a disappointment. So he lost himself, drowned in his own head as he mechanically moved in and out, in and out, in and out. 

Duty. Duty. Duty.

If he had not been so preoccupied with tearing his own being to shreds in his mind, he may have heard her moans as the bright pink tip of his cock hit a rough spot in her, allowing her pleasures and experiences she did not believe she would ever know. He may have known that she desired him, just as he did her.

His self-deprecating thoughts couldn't have been farther from the truth– he may not have realized it that night, but he would soon enough.

Flowers came to Aemond in multiple shapes and forms throughout his marriage, and the first ever flower she gave him– whether she chose to see it that way or not– came to him on their wedding night, in the form of her maidenhead.

Tourneys were a time of celebration for her.

There was something to be said about the romance of watching men ask women for favors and fight with all the might and grace that they possess. She had often dreamed that a dashing knight or a courteous prince would perhaps approach her for her favor, and then perhaps crown her Queen of Love and Beauty. If she was lucky, the man would court her too.

The man she married was the antithesis of all that she hoped a tourney would bring.

Her husband was not a bad man by any means– no. He was a good and respectful husband, slightly removed and isolated for her outward nature, but she did not mind. There were worse men to be married to, and even if he never went out of his way to be there for her, he certainly treated her well when they were in each other’s presence.

She tried with him, Gods bless her. 

She would try to catch his eye at the supper table, or watch him train in hopes that he would meet her watchful gaze once or twice. She would watch in a sleepy haze as he woke early in the morn, long before she had the strength or consciousness to wish him a good day, hoping he would turn to do the same. He never did.

More often than not, a curt nod and a wavering glance was all she’d get.  Still there were brief, hopeful moments that kept her active in her pursuit to build a friendship with her husband.

She would have done something absolutely obnoxious— acts that would have him sneering if it was someone else– and she’d see it. That little hint of a smile, waiting to bubble through the surface, just by the corner of his pink lips, that she would have missed if she blinked. Each time there was a tenuous beginning of a hesitant smile, she felt a tiny sliver of hope.

He was not so intimidating to her now as he was in the initial days of their union– no. In a little corner of her mind, she acknowledged that fact– that is what helped her find his hand and hold it tight in nervousness, before she could even comprehend the intimacy of the act.

The knight who had just taken a harsh tumble from his horse was carried away by servants, with his head beaten bloody and hands hanging limp by his side. If she did not know better, she would have thought him dead.

The champion then raised his hands up in victory. Thunderous clapping sounds overshadowed all else around her, but she could not bring herself to join. She was still stunned by how the other knight had fallen, and was yet to let go of Aemond’s hand.

She felt the bile rise in her throat, so she brought her other hand to her chest and bowed her head down, a feeble attempt at keeping the vomit at bay. It was awhile until she managed to catch her breath again, and by then the celebrations had moved on from celebrating the champion to the crowning of his Queen of Love and Beauty.

The eldest Lady Baratheon smiled coyly as she received the wreath of winter roses, followed by a chaste kiss to her cheek. The crowd gasped at how brazen the act was, with neither of them being married, but the high of winning makes men do the most peculiar things, she supposed. In the back of her mind, regardless of how uneasy she felt, she wished– desperately. 

How she wished it was her. 

A childish fantasy really. What was a publicly gifted crown of flowers worth in the face of what she had? She was a Princess of the realm now, married to a skilled dragonrider from a family of illustrious history and blood. Any children they may have will be immortalized in the annals.  Nothing. A crown of flowers was worth nothing when compared to what she had– or at least, that is what she would tell herself.

And yet, she craved the romance. She had always enjoyed the idea of being loved and cherished. Her husband respected her, and if she was feeling bold, she’d say he liked her– but he certainly did not love her. That much she was certain of. When she naively wished that he’d crown her, she asked if he was going to enter the lists. He had sharply turned so quickly that she feared she had angered him.

“I don’t give a sh…” He had sighed before speaking again, as though he felt tested. “I do not care for tourneys.” The sharpness in his voice had hurt her, and she did not speak of it again.

Their marriage was a decent one– but it held none of the love she hoped to have, despite all her attempts.

Did he find her so disagreeable?

All of a sudden, his hand felt cold to the touch and she let go of him like he burned her. The heat came back to her hand just as it showed on her cheeks, and his had turned cold from having lost her touch so abruptly.

“I’d like to get some fresh air, husband,” she said, and rose before he could even ask if she needed him to accompany her.

Her quick walk took her to the tent where the court ladies had been sitting, and she had stepped in right in time to hear them gossip– about her husband.

“Well he must keep it on while they… you know! It can be jarring to look at, I’m sure it is!”

“It must be terrible to see it up close all the time. I can hardly look at him from across the chamber!”

He is certainly unnerving. It does make you wonder though, do you think they actually…” the woman lowered her voice to match the vulgarity that was to follow. “Do you think they actually fuck? She cannot possibly want to, and she is not with child either…”

“Well, does it really matter if she wants to? He’s a Prince, and her husband. He’ll take his pleasure regardless.”

Regardless of where she and her husband stood, she would not stand for their marriage to become fodder for court gossip. If she stayed quiet for any longer while these empty-headed women berated her husband, she would be insulting him herself.

“Might I ask what is so amusing?”  she said with sharp eyes and a tilted head. The sweat on their faces upon her arrival was apparent, and so was their nervousness.

“My Lady, we were just–”

“Princess,” she corrected.

“Yes of course, Princess. We were just–”

“Making presumptions about my marriage?” 

“No… we just…”

“Don’t deny it,” she seethed, anger looking completely foreign on a soft, comely face like hers. Her nostrils flared and her nose went red in her current state, but there was no way she could stop now. 

“The next time you feel the need to comment on such matters , perhaps you will all learn to remind yourself that he is a Prince of the realm and I am his wife! There will be suitable punishment, and you will all be dismissed from court at my pleasure, disgraced and husbandless. Now, we wouldn’t want that, would we?” Her words were cutting and sharp, and they had the younger ladies bowing their heads in fear almost immediately.

“I’ll have you all know that unlike the other men of the court, Prince Aemond’s scar came to him along with the largest dragon in the world. His bravery only makes him more handsome to me.”

She then fixed her attention onto the married lady of the bunch and delivered a questionable blow that she would certainly feel bad about later. “If you’ve been led to believe that the man takes his pleasure from his wife even if she does not want to, then perhaps your marriage is a lot worse than I thought. Your husband must have no regard for your wants, unlike mine. And for that, I am truly sorry.”

She did not wait for them to respond as she gathered her skirts and walked out of the tent, feeling largely annoyed and satisfied to an extent. But as she began her walk back, the fear of news of her anger reaching her husband hit her like a harsh and heavy wave.

Would he call her insolent and disgraceful? Has she damaged her marriage more than it already has been?

She did not have to wait long for her answer, for Aemond had been just a few steps behind her, watching the entire scene unfold. The angry flush on her face left her as quickly as it had come, replaced by a skittish nervousness that led to her shuffling her feet as she stood before him, at a complete loss for words.

She swallowed the spit gathering in her mouth, throat bobbing as her head remained facing down to the floor, awaiting a scolding from him for her absolutely inexcusable behavior; her husband was a man who knew his courtesies, after all. He could not possibly be happy with how she carried herself and disappointed him.

“You do not look well. Let me walk you to our chambers,” was all he said before he led her away with a hand on the small of her back.

She remained worried that he was perhaps leading them to privacy and silence so he could punish her while being undisturbed. She could not have been farther from the truth.

She expected him to scream at her, forget all the courtesy that he had shown her and throw his words at her without care. What she was not prepared for, was for him to hold her chin between his thumb and index fingers, pulling her face up to meet his.

He curiously inspected her, almost as though her little show of anger thoroughly amused him. She would not be surprised if it did– she had never been so outward in her anger in the two months that they had been married; this was a completely new side to her that he was now privy to.

“What was that, wife?” His words were measured and cut. 

“They…” She was stunned to find that, despite her tongue becoming loose in moments of anger,  it was hard for her to speak right now. So, she chose to gulp once more and tried to look someplace else. The uncertainty in his sharp, one-eyed violet gaze was becoming too much for her to bear– but Aemond did not give up easily. He kept her head held in place as she desperately waited for the words to come to her.

“They were being crude, and insulting you.”

He looked at her for a moment, his sharp gaze refusing to waver as the sunlight pierced through the glass windows of their chamber. He then let go of her, and handed her a goblet of wine to calm her clearly unsteady senses. He watched as she took little sips from the chalice, the restless turning of the wheels in his mind apparent on his face. 

Soon after, he made up a sham of a reason about having to leave when the cheering crowds became louder and louder. She nodded and continued to sip, completely oblivious to the change of heart that her husband was having as she wondered why he brought her back to their bed.

She did not know the thoughts that now ran fast and surely in his mind. She did not know that he thought his eye had cost him a chance at a happy marriage with her. She had no idea of knowing how conflicted he felt at the new realization, for his sculpted face gave nothing away.

He turned to face her with a hand on the door.  “Thank you,” he mumbled.

She nodded and smiled meekly while he stalked back to the festivities.

He held his hands tightly behind him as he tried to make sense of how light his heart felt in comparison to the rest of him. 

Back in the chamber, she blushed. For all her worry that he may have been disappointed, she had been completely floored by how he had responded– he was thankful. She berated herself for not considering the possibility– and smiled at the realization that for all her husband’s prowess as a warrior, in times like these,  he needed a champion too. 

That night, Aemond burned the midnight oil while reading in the library, trying to still his racing heart and make sense of how it leapt at newfound thoughts of his little wife. 

Across the Holdfast, in the soft candlelight of their shared chambers, she sat on her husband’s dear chair, looking at her handiwork– an embroidered silk tourney favor, with a little rose.

Her husband may not care for tourneys, but making the favor allowed her the luxury of thinking that should the possibility of him willingly entering the lists come around, he would do so with her gift on his lance. Mayhaps he would crown her Queen of Love and Beauty too– the thought makes her blush.

She would give it to him should he ever choose to partake someday. Until then, it would be safely hidden away in her shelves, amidst her gowns and other possessions.

Flowers have came to Aemond in multiple shapes and forms throughout his marriage, and the second flower that was intended for him– despite the fact that she was yet to give it to him– came to him on the day of the the twins’ name day tourney, in the form of a rose, embroidered onto a tourney favor. 

They have come to enjoy each other's company.

Her coming to his defense while expecting nothing in return had lit a fire in Aemond that he could not seem to quell. What he believed she had rejected him over, she had actually taken to being proud of. What he had believed was his one big, obvious and visible fatal flaw, was something that she had taken to holding in high regard.

I’ll have you lot know that unlike the other men of the court, his scar came to him along with the largest dragon in the world. And his bravery only makes him more handsome to me.

Her words rang in his mind like the definite tolling of the Great Bell at the Royal Sept. With each chime, her assertiveness on the matter came back to linger in his thoughts, he had fallen for her – bit by bit. 

Feelings had always been a conundrum to Aemond, one that he did not entirely understand or even want to. But now, with a wife who warmed him and his heart slowly but surely, with her lovely smiles and nervous face, he found that he would like some certainty in the face of all that was uncertain in his heart.

He did not know if he loved her just yet. But what he did know was that, at the pace that she had set for them, it may be a very short while before he does. His wife. His wife, his wife, his wife. 

His, his, his.

Coming to terms with having a wife that actually desired his company– and him, surprisingly enough– had spurned his attempts to bring some sort of intimacy to their marriage. Gods knew that she had tried, only to be rebuffed rudely by him in the initial days of their marriage. It was a time that he now felt deep regret and shame for, one that he would not rest until he had made right. 

He needed her to see that he wanted to try.

He did not know how to be the charming prince from a bard’s songs. He did not know how to make women laugh like Aegon; be as sweet and kind as Helaena; or as chivalrous and perfect as Daeron. 

But what he did know was respect. Aemond understood respect as something that was earned by everyone around him, but to his wife, it should have been unconditional. It should have come to her the day he had cloaked her and made her his– but it did not. Now, he intended to make it right.

He needed her to see that he wanted to try– which is how he found himself with her on his arm, as they walked hand in hand through the corridors of Maegor’s Holdfast towards their chambers. Ah yes, hand in hand. Another one of the little joys that he savored like it was his last day alive. 

Their initially cold marriage had also been fueled by his blatant refusal to simply be near her, much less touch her. Why would she have wanted to be touched by a one-eyed monster, such as the likes of him? 

But the moment he realized that she did not consider him so– not in the least– led to a warmth seeping through his blood, making him crave her so much that his heart hurt. If she did not mind it, why must he not exercise his liberties? And if there was some joy to be derived from it, why would they not want to indulge?

And so he had begun. A stolen touch here, a featherlight graze there. 

His huge, calloused hand, seemed to be always holding her dainty one as he accompanied her throughout their time in the castle; on the small of her back as they maneuvered through feasts and dances; around her waist as they closed the distance between each other in their sleep, with her back to his chest; clutching onto her thigh to keep her in place for when she turned around and draped her tiny leg upon his waist.

His hands, all over her.

It was not just these fleeting, quick touches that Aemond had grown to enjoy. With their bond growing stronger with each passing moment, he had realized that their marital duties were simply not duties anymore. They had gone from believing that the other had tolerated their presence, to trying their level best so that the other would know how much they desired them. The growth of their marriage was evident in how their carnal indulgences had evolved.

Where he had held himself to hover over her so as to not facilitate any unnecessary touches, he had now taken to covering her entire being with his own. His hands around her hip as he pounded into her; her hands on his chest as the tip of her fingers grazed and pinched at his nipples. His hands in her hair as he mouthed at her heaving breast; her hands around him as she held onto him as tightly as she could, never wanting to let him go. His hands on her cunt as he drew peak after peak from her before thrusting himself into her; her hands around his cock as she pumped him before impaling herself by straddling him, just the way he liked. 

Their sounds of pleasure had been held back and muffled in the beginning, but now they were uninhibited sounds taken by the wind, made with the intent of being heard and making desires known.  

Oh yes, their marriage had grown. 

This is what Aemond had been pondering as he led her through, with servants making their way for the young prince and princess as she held onto her husband with one hand, and a piece of rolled parchment and some charcoal on the other. He enjoyed their touches now, and it made his heart soar that he did not have to doubt her want for him either. 

Yes, they could make something out of this.

“How was your time in the gardens, wife?” It made him happy that with the growth of their marriage, she had taken to exercising her liberties. So, when she had come to him requesting charcoal and bound parchment so she could begin drawing again, he was only happy to oblige. 

“Good. I managed to sit and watch the flowers flit about in the wind for a time, and I drew a bit as well. Then the court ladies came to join me as they…”

Aemond listened to his wife as he sat himself on his chair by the hearth, most intently, and with the utmost concentration that he could muster. He could not bring himself to make selfless romantic declarations of love, or speak to her more than he was able. But he could listen, and that is what he would do. 

Not a word unheard, not a moment missed. He needed her to see that he wanted to try.

She prattled on and on about her day, and how the court ladies had gossiped about each other when they thought the other wasn’t listening. He listened to the way her voice heightened when her recollections were happy, and he noted the way she frowned when she was in disapproval. He observed how her eyes widened at shocking narrations, and how her hands seemed to move like they had a life of their own. 

He kept observing, losing himself in his newfound knowledge of her, her, her… and it was not until she stood close to him, her body slotted between his legs as she held her hands behind her back that he realized she had stopped speaking.

“Go on.”

He did not expect to be given something, not when his name day had just passed. But that is exactly what happened. 

“For you,” she said. With her raised eyebrows and coy smile, she managed to place  a parchment roll into his hand. Aemond made note of how her head faced down and her feet shuffled as she stood in wait for his approval.

He unrolled the parchment, careful to not cause even a stray tear at the edges. His eyes raked over the drawing, one of clear skill and years of training of the highest level– one befitting a lady.

“I shall treasure it, thank you.” 

She smiled at his acceptance, and he nodded. He was not a smiling man, but he hoped that she knew how much he appreciated these gestures. He hoped that their marriage had grown enough for her to notice his quirks, just as he had made note of hers.

Flowers came to Aemond in multiple shapes and forms throughout his marriage, and the third flower that she had given him was a charcoal sketch of a rose, into which she had poured her heart and soul.

As the days passed, their mornings became brighter.

While she had hoped that the initial days of their marriage would have some semblance of love, and if not, at least affection to some extent, her hopes had been quickly dashed with the closed off and curt behavior that her husband seemed to have made his own. Neither did he ever wish her a good morrow upon sunrise, nor did he kiss her goodnight like in the songs.

But now, there was more.

Where there was coldness, there was now warmth. It was not heat, not like wildfire, no– it was warmth, like from the calm blaze of their hearth. She might not have awoken to a smile, no– her husband was not a smiling man– but she always woke to an arm snaked over her breasts, pressing into her. Where there was distance, oceans between them, there was now a shared intimacy, one that they had both been quietly happy about. She was not put to sleep with a kiss, but whenever she slept on the chaise waiting for him to arrive, he now ensured that she was put into comfortable clothes and carried to their bed with care. 

He may not have cared for her in the beginning, but she knew he did now. Her husband was not a romantic man, but his small gestures were enough to make her feel happy and content.

The shift in their dynamic was not just visible in their daytime activities, but in the passions of their marriage bed as well. On the first night that they had coupled, he had been careful, experimental, doubtful. But as the days went by, he had become surer, rougher… insatiable.

She enjoyed this new side to him. She enjoyed being the woman that belonged to a fierce prince, the one that he so clearly desired. She enjoyed being held by him as he moved her up and down his cock, his head buried in her breasts as he breathed in the heady smell of sweat and sex. She enjoyed being impaled by him, her small body being split into two, all while having him whisper words of appreciation in her ears. 

My little wife, my little flower. Made for me… only for me, he would say. Tell me who this cunt belongs to, he would growl, hands slapping her little nub over and over until she caught her breath, found her voice again and appeased him.

You! Gods… to you, my prince, she would whine, holding his hand in place, hoping he would fuck her with his fingers once more, just the way she liked.

It came as no surprise to her that ever since they had become welcome to each other’s affections, they had been a lot more active in their marriage bed– so much so that the lewd moans and loud curses had become court gossip.

When she had addressed the matter with him once soon after they had fucked, Aemond had smiled, albeit darkly– the only kind of smile that suited him. Dragons do not concern themselves with the opinions of sheep, he had said. His insinuation that she was now a dragon too, all while his warm breath fanned her neck and his large hands squeezed her backside, was all she needed to quell her worries.

And of course, as was the natural order of these things, she was now with child.

She had been overjoyed when she had found out, and a tad relieved too. The court ladies whispering about her womb was not something she appreciated– their assumptions about her being barren, even less. So when she found out, she insisted that she be the one to break the news to her husband– her time as an expectant mother would never completely be her own, given the station she had now married into. 

But this, this moment could be hers and his. It would be theirs alone.

And so, she sat in wait at the training grounds, watching him as he expertly maneuvered his sword and slashed at his mentor, Ser Cole. Dodge, lunge, slash. Dodge, lunge, slash. Dodge, lunge–

Ser Cole had bested him, having noticed the predictability in his movements. Aemond of course, being the headstrong man that he was, refused to give up. The anger in his face at being won over in a fight did not escape her, and she would be lying if she said it did not awaken desire in her once more. Before she could think further however, one of the lords in the audience had piped up. 

“Perhaps the Prince would benefit from a token of luck from his dear lady wife!” He said, and the watching crowd around them seemed to agree as they cheered and whistled. Aemond was flummoxed, not knowing how to cope with being faced with the topic of his wife while in the middle of a fight. It was only then that he noticed her, red-faced and smiling as she was– before he could say anything, she had taken the lead.

“I’m afraid I’ve come empty handed, my lord. I’ve nothing to offer him right now!” She quipped with a smile. It had warmed him to know that she was jovial enough for the two of them, allowing him the luxury of staying quiet as she became his champion during situations like these.

“Ah well, he knows you’re here now, Princess! If that does not add to his fire, I do not know what will!”

Perhaps it was her presence, or it was his own prowess as a swordsman. But Aemond was quick to come through this time around. The crowds cheered for their Prince, and so did the man who had taught him to be all that he was.

“Well met, my prince,” Ser Cole said. He patted her dragon prince on his shoulder and walked over to where the swords were arranged. Aemond quickly followed in reverence to his teacher, one that he did not freely give to most. Soon after, the crowds had dispersed, and she watched as his slender, tall form stalk towards her.

“Since when do you frequent the training grounds, wife?”

“Can a wife not seek her husband out when she wants to?” 

She could not have imagined rhetorics like these tumbling out of her mouth in the initial days of their union. But they were now closer than they had ever been, and she had discovered that it would not hurt to take initiative, especially given how quiet of a man her husband could be.

He was not the charming prince from the books or the songs, but she certainly loved who he was– inquisitive, considerate and respectful.

“Hm. Perhaps.”

Their walk back to their apartments was a slow and quiet one, with her knowing that he preferred his moments of quiet soon after his training. They soon settled into the solar, with the food spread out for them to break their fast.

As was his habit, Aemond stripped himself of his clothes as she checked the water in the tub with the tips of her fingers, water rippling as her hands moved. He was quick to step in and let his hands rest on either side of the tub, his legs ramrod straight but slowly loosening up as she ran a washcloth over him with a gentle softness that is most unlike him.

Her hands glided over his chest, arms and he caught hold of her when her hands moved to clean his neck, beckoning her to come closer. “My dutiful little flower, hm? Come to assist her husband and answer his every beck and call.”

“I am nothing, if not dutiful.” She said, playful smile teasing him as her breasts threatened to spill out of the neckline of her dress– causing his cock to half-harden at the sight. She kissed his cheek and set the washcloth down, hands traveling to his alabaster hair as she ran her fingers through it, allowing her wet hands to trudge through. When she was done, he was quick to pull at her hand from his side, causing her to bend to meet him, eyes to eye.

“You have a council meeting to get to, husband. Now is not the time.” 

She knew very well what he wanted. It was what she wanted too– which is precisely why her own protests meant absolutely nothing to her as she gave in, dress riding up to her thighs and billowing wet in the water as she straddled him. Her cunt was already soaked for him, and he was hot and ready from all the energies that training seemed to have put into him. She rocked her hips forward and backward, adjusting to his girth, while sighing and breathing at the feeling of having him in her. It did not matter how many times he’d taken her, she would never get used to feeling so full. 

Soon enough, he had her held harshly by her waist in a bruising grip, his teeth nibbling at her sensitive nipples as he moved her up and down, up and down, up and down. The water crashed out of the tub like waves crashing onto shore and she was quick to fall apart in a mix of pain and pleasure, moaning his name in her broken voice, followed by a silent scream. His release followed soon after, cock twitching in her as he drew her closer, closer and closer still. When she felt his cock soften after a time, she got up and he let her, following close behind. 

“You fought well today, husband.” She said, in a feeble attempt to coerce a conversation from him as they sat at the table. He was a man of silence, and she was not. He did not prefer it, but she would try anyway - because there were times when he indulged her.

“Hm. Thank you.”

The smell of cut fruit was intoxicating to her, more so than usual. She had heard of women craving peculiar kinds of food during their time as expectant mothers, so she supposed that this may have to do with the little dragon that she now grew in her belly. The rest of their time eating moved in a swift silence– a comfortable one. The only sounds they heard were of the servants in the corridors and the birds chirping from out the window.

When they finished, the trays were taken away and he got up, ready to leave to sit in on the council meeting that his grandfather had called him for. He was halfway out the door after nodding to her when she took his hand, and he stopped.

Her hands held onto his as tightly as they could, and she was skittish as she continued to look down at the floor. By now, he knew her quirks well enough to know that she did that only when she wanted to say something.

“Go on.” He urged her as his other hand reached for her too.

She drew in a sharp breath as she bit her lip. “I… I am with child, husband.”

She did not know what to expect from him of her news– but his silent sigh and slight smile as his hands reached down to cover her belly in his hold is enough of a reaction. “Thank you,” he said, his gratitude and happiness made obvious– to her, even if not to anyone else. She did nothing but smile as his forehead met hers in a soft touch– their touches were always passionate and rough while in the privacy of their chambers, so it was peculiar for her to be treated this way. She found that she enjoyed it, just as much as she enjoyed being roughly handled by him.

She then stretched the fingers of one hand, revealing a little silk patch, a little tourney favor with a rose stitched on it. A flower, from his little flower.

“I know you do not prefer tourneys, but… it is my hope that you would at least keep it with you while you train.”

His hands ran over the soft silk, fingers tracing the intricate patterns that she had clearly taken her time with. He was quick to smoothen it out and pocket it, following it with a kiss to her lips. 

“Thank you, for everything.” 

The favor was only meant for the training grounds. But a week later, when she found it peeking out of his pocket while they walked around the gardens, she smiled. Soon, she found out that he kept it with him all day.

Flowers came to Aemond in multiple shapes and forms throughout his marriage, and the fourth flower that she gave to him, came to him in the form of a favor with an embroidered rose, one that he kept on his person at all times.

There was something to be said about the comforts of silence.

Her husband was not a smiling man, nor was he an ardent conversationalist. Being a woman who leaned towards being both, she had begun their marriage with the intent of treading lightly, lest she annoy him or risk having him dismiss her halfway through. And she did try; Gods knew that she did. 

Royal marriages were a sacred duty– those held in its sanctity would have to hold themselves to a higher standard, no matter how much it hurt them. With that being said, she was eternally thankful for Aemond understanding her preferences and trying to meet her halfway. She had been prepared for a man who would coldly dismiss her and her wants, but she had not been prepared for one that would actually want her.

One of the greatest pains of being born a noblewoman, she supposed, was that happiness in itself, was a privilege– one that she wished was not as such. She wished for it to be an easy thing to have, and as such, understood that she had been blessed with a quiet and peaceful marriage - one that did not take from her more than she was willing to give. It did not matter how many times she thought it over– she never failed to be as grateful as she was at the first realization, many moons ago. 

These were her thoughts as she accompanied her husband in the library. Aemond sat opposite her, on the other side of the table with his finger running over the texts of the Summer and Winter Annals, deeply engaged in the knowledge that the book had to offer on the now lost Kingdom of Sarnor, once a famed trade partner of Valyria. 

The fresh assortment of flowers lay haphazardly on her side of the bench, while she worked towards entwining them all onto the coir to make a crown. She often stole a glance at her husband as she repeatedly adjusted herself on her seat, one that was bigger than her usual one - to accommodate her, and the babe that she now carries. 

An heir, a royal heir. There is dragon blood in you now, he had said. 

She felt it, what with her babe’s constant reminders - boy or girl, the kicks were hard and swift, and it never failed to take her by surprise.

Aemond was a very fast reader, she gathered. His pages turned a lot faster than hers did, and his eyes never stuck to one part of the parchment for long - they flitted about and were restless, aiding him in his desire to learn as much as he can in the least amount of time. They have been married for half a year by now, and yet she manages to learn something new about him every day.

Her deft fingers worked through the stems of the flowers, piercing the sharp ends of the coir through them. In and out, in and out, in and out, she went - establishing a pattern that she ended up memorizing, whether she was cognizant of it or not.

Aemond stood up as he noticed a guard waiting near the doors, summoning him on behalf of the King. Her crown was now completely done, and she admired her handiwork as she twirled it in her finger and smiled. Aemond was now speaking to the guard as she ran the tip of her fingers over the petals. She brought it closer to her nose to smell them - the flowers were not as fragrant as they were once before, but there was a faint scent that she adored. 

He nodded, and she could not help but smile again as he approached her. It struck her harder with each moment, how the Gods had blessed her with him - him with his infinite knowledge, calm disposition and otherworldly beauty. She wondered if the babe she carried would look like him - she hopes, hopes and hopes that they would.

He took the crown of flowers in his hands and handled it with the same care that she put into making it. It looked thoroughly out of place, yet so at home in his hands - much like herself.

A mildly happy lift at the edge of his lips caused a sharp dimple - one that made him look harsh, content and menacing at the same time. She may have wished for a Prince from the songs all the moons ago - but right now, she could not help but think that she had been blessed with someone greater, even if she knew that he did not believe it himself. 

He placed the crown atop her head, crowning her. She remembered wishing he would crown her Queen of Love and Beauty at the twins’ name day tourney - but at this moment, as his fingers glided over her smooth hair to set the crown of white roses into place, she was happier than she could have ever been at any tourney.

“Escort the Princess safely to our chambers,” he ordered, after rubbing her growing stomach and giving her a kiss on her temple before going to meet the King. She stood slowly, and noticed that one unused and withering flower had been left behind. The air from outside the castle gushed through the windows, and it was purely by instinct that she grabbed it by the stem and placed it inside the pages of Aemond’s book before the pages flew - so it would be marked and he could begin where he left off if he so wished.

Long after her exit, Aemond came back to his bench after finishing his meeting with the King. He noticed the protruding stem, and he could not help but feel the warmth coarse through his chest as he opened the tome and found the withering flower pressed inside.

Flowers came to Aemond in multiple shapes and forms throughout his marriage, and the fifth flower that she gave to him came to him in the form of a dried rose, one that he kept tucked safely inside his favorite book.

It was moments like these that made Aemond believe in anyone but himself.

Being able to love someone blindly was not a gift that Aemond ever found himself capable of giving. Ever since the loss of his eye, he had grown to be full of spite and resentment, believing that having his dragon was enough to make the loss of company around him worthwhile. Nobody knew how to speak to him anymore– how does one comfort a boy who could only see half the world around him?

And then, she came to him. His wife.

With her free smiles and open heart, she had made her way through into the center of his. He found that he preferred her there, where she belonged. She had made her home in his heart, and he marveled at how despite not matching up to her in any way that mattered, she had found it in herself to allow him to take shelter in hers.

It brought him shame to think of how they could have fallen in love much sooner if he had been open to her affections and not been so wrapped up in his own presumed fallacies. But with time, he learned that in a world where marriages remained cold until the bitter end, a late bloom of happiness was a gift that he should learn to treasure.

It is a girl. Do not ask me why I believe so, husband. I simply do, she had said.

The tomes say a bigger belly is indicative of a boy. I read it, he had countered then.

He stood corrected. Aemond would tell the entire realm that his worldly knowledge did not stand a chance against his wife’s intuition– the little girl he held in his arms was enough support for his claim. 

She slept soundly in his arms as he sat in his chair by the hearth. His wife, tired from her taxing labors, had taken to sleeping through most of the last three days, and he had not left his daughter’s side, not once.

He held her head as his mother carried her for the very first time, eyes shining in joy as she thanked them both for making her a grandmother once more. There were very few things that gave Alicent Hightower joy, and watching her children have babes of their own was one of them.

He rested the tip of his fingers over her smooth and frail silver hair as his grandfather took a good look at her, allowing himself a moment with his guard down. Aemond had not seen his grandfather look at anyone with such  reverence, not unless it was Helaena, Jaehaera or his own mother. And now, Aemond suspected that his grandfather, for all his cold demeanor, did have a soft corner in his heart for the women of his life.

He had towered over the crib as the twins took turns gawking at her, after spending hours begging to see their new cousin. Aemond brought them after they promised to not make too much noise– both mother and daughter were fast asleep. Jaehaera had asked him if she could braid her hair when she grew some, and Jaehaerys poked at the new babe's nose (her mother's nose) with his thumb in curiosity. Aemond laughed, for he was intrigued by her too– only, it was better contained.

He held her tightly to his chest with his hand over her head as Aegon came to meet his newborn niece– completely sober and bathed, upon Aemond’s threats of murder if he came anywhere near his babe with his foulness. He smiled as he dropped the little dragon toy in her crib, looking over at the exhausted mother who could barely keep her eyes open. Aemond’s one eye followed his brother’s then, and visibly softened at the sight of his wife. Aegon laughed and quipped, “I never thought I’d say this brother, but I suppose you do wear the lovestruck look well.”

He had rocked her in silence as Helaena cooed at her, elated at the thought of becoming an aunt to a niece. This family is in dire need of more women, she had mumbled absentmindedly once. “She’s beautiful,” she whispered and Aemond enthusiastically agreed. 

She is beautiful, and she is his. His own daughter, given to him by his own wife.

In the nights, when he was left alone with the women around whom his entire world now revolved, Aemond let tranquility take him. And it was in moments like these, that he learned to love them both with all that he had– blindly, and unconditionally. 

It was in moments like these, that he learned to believe.

Flowers have come to Aemond in multiple shapes and forms throughout his marriage, and the sixth flower that she gave to him, came to him in the form of his little daughter. A little flower, from his flower.

The flowers kept coming to him throughout the many years that followed, and he valued every one of them– for they had all come from her, and they were all a part of her.

His flower. His wife. His very own.

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MASTERLIST

[elizabethrobertajones]

kriles summer trust top is kinda problematic tho... lalafell r smol and should be wholesome.

Aw, come on.

I'm sorry but I have to disagree because within the fiction, lalafell are just as mean, gross and horny as anyone else. Gegeruju is a perv, and the whole Ul'dah Syndicate is full of evil little bastards. On the good side, lala are just as complex and grown up as anyone else - Tataru courts followers and dances in a skimpy outfit in the Forgotten Knight, Giott is a roaring drunk stereotypical fantasy dwarf (not to mention whatever the heck is going on with the Tomra and Komra dwarves in general tbh :P). And Lamitt's story was sweet but it did involve her having adult feelings for Ardbert.

Like, really, I can only think of 4 completely wholesome lala out of a cast of hundreds, and they happen to mostly be the ones we've interacted with a lot (Nanamo; Pipin who is a Heroic Knight archetype; Papalymo, who was a grumpy old scholar man; Krile). But that's more about them being main characters serving roles in the narrative rather than indicative of how lalas behave as a whole. In fact after going through ARR, meeting Pipin and finding One Good Ul'dahn Lala is an enormous relief (since the other one is apparently dead now).

And Krile is a main character now so she's allowed to step out of the shadow of being uwu cat hoodie girl who wasn't written with much depth outside of being serious and earnest and rather spooky; she's actually 22 years old according to the first wiki I found - regardless of if that's totally accurate she's definitely meant to be a peer of the other adult Scions and they all treat her like an adult. Her introduction cutscene has her ribbing Alphy as an older friend laughing at how a much younger one used to behave, so we're supposed to immediately understand on meeting her that she's post-teen since she knew 11 year old Alphy and was of course older than him since he was a freak entry into the Studium at that age. Probably a necessary writing moment because establishing lala's age with hilarious moustaches or deep voices or whatever is a part of how the game has to present them.

Out of the fiction, I know lalas are part of a much wider trope that people do find problematic as a whole (e.g. just because in universe Tataru has babes across the globe and that's normal to everyone involved, who are consenting adults in a world which wholly understands Tataru as a consenting adult, is it actually really creepy that it's happening at all because her body type is toddler-esque? Is it weird in general that lala emotes are SO baby in the same way miqo emotes are SO kitty?

ffxiv definitely goes waaay further into borderline creepy territory than many games with smaller fantasy races in it, when it comes to how lala look, so yeah I know it's a fraught area and can be discomforting to see the game present child-shaped people as having adult desires and a thing some people understandably set aside along with other elements as things they're not happy with co-existing in the game with things they really love.) We can absolutely talk about that on a meta level of how we relate to the game and feel about it, just like things we find racist or uncomfortable in other ways e.g. eng translation Hien's treatment of Yotsuyu being a really problematic point.

But, that's one thing, versus talking about us here in fandom and how we relate to it, and I think your ask is, well, really not very deeply considered on any level, but I think is talking about how we as fandom relate to lalas, based on an inaccurate reading of them in the game, meaning you're really not even analysing a thing about it and therefore your ask comes more in the terms of policing how we should FEEL about Krile's beach outfit, and dictating that we SHOULD find lalas smol and wholesome, and that therefore there's an inherent problem in anyone reacting positively to the outfit, rather than critiquing its place in the game in the first place. Having hit a cognitive dissonance in seeing swimsuit Krile existing you've come to me to complain it's problematic rather than taking any actual meaningful action. Ergo, this is a fandom problem to you, not a game problem. WE should find it problematic and say so, you are implying, shocked that so many people looked at a post about the beach outfits and no one commented as such.

Aside from lalafell being fictional and at no point other than the visuals are they treated as children (and emotes aside, playing through the MSQ as a lala wol you easily fall into seeing them as an adult because of course all the cutscenes share the same level of gravitas no matter what you're playing or what clown costume you have on any player), there ARE actually real humans who are built somewhere closer to lala than not, and would be drawn to playing any of the smaller races in a game (like, gnomes in WoW, halflings in D&D, etc) because that's just their chance at representation. And because FFXIV doesn't have anything other than precious moments doll-shaped people the look might be great in the sense that they have the proportions of a cherub statue and it is a lot harder to meet in the middle than a halfling (notoriously hairy middle aged bastards and much easier to read as adult, though that doesn't exclusively represent people who've had growth developmental differences), that IS still the only representative option some people have in the game and if they want to indulge it rather than play something else with proportions forced on them by many games, then what the hell is wrong with that?

And they WILL go to bat for lalas and get upset when people say that they have to be precious baby characters who act like children. I've seen that on tumblr: there's a whole lala community who keeps kinda low key and away from everyone else by their own admission BECAUSE as soon as they get too much attention they're deluged with hate for playing characters who have adult desires and dress fancy - or, you know, like any other random slutty elf WoL. The fact I wandered onto lala blogs at random and saw that complaint on the first pages should speak to how often they have to deal with it. And, again, within the fiction of the game their characters are completely 100% normal and doing what other lalas who are written by the game do as well. I KNOW those blogs are out there and they'd be scared of getting this exact ask, and it would greatly upset them and ruin their day and put them off having any interaction with the community, which fucking sucks. We're here to have fun!

That said I'm not a weirdo anti all up in others' business, it's also fine to just like lalas and stuff without some huge circumstantial justification like "they look like me" - or - "my IRL wife" or whatever - you can also just play a lala or ship with one and it's like, your business. If that's all you're doing and it's not a hypothetical child molester who also has a whole gallery of lala porn that the cops find when they impound the computer full of REAL CHILDREN stuff as well it's never going to be anyone else's business anyway, ever, and that's like, one hypothetical awful person for a whole fandom of normies who are just surprised by how much idk Pipin's deep voice rocked their world and changed their whole perspective on what a hot character was.

Like, granted, that one HYPOTHETICAL weirdo will make everything rancid because there are people waiting to jump on people who like lalas, but also it still won't actually change what other people are doing into being Evil just because someone who actually hurts children found lalas attractive too. That, again, was the hypothetical awful person's problem and not theirs. And in no way can we just casually imply ALL people who like lalas are just inherently going to be dangerous, like real children, or enacting a private psychodrama teetering on the edge of all that.

They could in fact be completely average and boring psychologically and also have a crush on Tataru. Or, I guess, normal amount of weird for a fandom, but basically average XD In a fictional world where these characters are treated as adults, even normal people will naturally end up drawn to them as adults because, well, that's the story that's we're all engaging in. It's not inherently a thought crime to do so, because, weirdly, thought crimes don't exist.

Also, of course, people will literally discourse that hobbits are child-coded and shouldn't be shipped or seen as sexy, despite the most famous halflings, who made the entire halfling race as a generic brand, all being middle aged, hairy, smoking, drinking, guys with normal adult desires and mindsets. I mean yeah Elijah Wood was 18 when they started filming LotR (over several years so he was Krile's age by the end :P) but also Frodo celebrated his 40th birthday before setting off on the Ring Quest in the book and he was the baby of the group aside from Pippin.

In any case, there's no fucking winning and so I can understand completely that if a fucking Hobbit from Lord of the Rings gets shit for being short, and people are getting called a perv for fancying Sam Gamgee, then why not just embrace it with a Lalafell because you're literally damned no matter what in the eyes of someone who won't meet a LOTR HOBBIT where he stands as an adult man.

There's some DEEP puritanical brainrot going on online and I don't want to be a part of it whatsoever, so it means accepting lala likers for the sake of protecting Merry and Pippin's right to be seen as hot, than like, I know which side of of the line I'm dragging my beach chair. It's not even a question. I'm defending people who think lalas are appealing.

ANYWAY none of this is my business, I don't even find lalas sexy, I just think Krile looks nice in her cute summer top and it's lovely that she's getting fashion advice from her besties, and there's a million reasons to be happy about that and for her as a character, and only miserable bastard reasons to go "aurgh aurgh it's problematic" and condemn the game and everyone who plays it just for enjoying something. Lalas are NOT smol and wholesome, they're short and people, and that's fine.

[fantomette22]

Oh Merci Karnaca! (promis quand j'aurais un moment j'irais lire quelques autres de tes écrits. The Micolash fic was really good 👍)

So um here's first my first ever fic and written fictive story since a while x) a lil dark fairytale based on Bloodborne + a few drawings to illustrated.

And there's the French version too.

Now first and current first multi chapter fic : A scholar's dream

In this huge project, I tried to retraced and tell a version of the entirety lore of Bloodborne! This first fic is mostly focus on the discoveries of the Pthumerians labyrinth back in Byrgenwerth and will explain how each important characters from this era come into place and how the Healing Church was found.

I first write it in French then translate each chapters in English.

(I'm taking some liberties of course, it's a fic but I'm trying to put as many elements & reference as possible, make the entire thing coherent and try to stay as canon compliant as possible. Not always easy and I don't have a big experience in writing but I tried) it's almost 20K words already help

I am currently working on chapter five. Almost seeing the end of it...

So first i will just link the big comic I made that I'm quite proud of. Inspired about bloodborne lore again.

The big A3 drawing I made for Bloodborne anniversary

And this drawing of the old hunter badge <3

As for the art well I have my masterpost with a few links and all the rest is scramble around my blog in the #fantomette22art & myart.

And hm idk if you guys wanna share stuff @bimbomcgee @heraldofcrow @catcas22 @katyspersonal @lizteaart and hm idk everyone who want to joined.

Tagged by @ravenkinnie, ty!!!

Way too frustrated with art these days so it's only writing stuff.

The Man Who Would Sell Paradise (Bioshock) — Not much to say about this besides the fact that it's a turning point in my writing style: it starts to become more "sensory" from this work onwards.

Free Jazz (Arcane: League of Legends) — Speaking of senses, this is where it reaches its more unhinged state, stirred by the raw emotions that free jazz music evokes in my mind. A character study in shades of music to match the shattered tempo of a broken man (two broken men maybe? three even?? this would get an update if only I wasn't caught in the clutches of other fandoms...)

Engineered Daylight (Dishonored) — 20k words of lore and very minor character study? Yes. It started as something very short but kind of grew on me as the writing process went on, and I'm not in the least displeased by it. Makes me think that I learned a lot from it.

Be still, my heart (Bloodborne) — Nothing to see here, just another fixation on a terrible scholar character that I love too much. It's been written in a hurry, but I like how it came out in the end; oddly tender and sensual although nightmares aren't supposed to be.

Light Catcher (Dishonored) — And my latest piece. Part nerdy art historian stuff, part character study about... a terrible scholar-type again... But it's more about the roots of creation; about how potent a fuel spite can be when you've seen the underside of the world.

Tagging: @rapturezoo @chesthighwater @fantomette22 (and anyone who wants to share their art & writing & ideas!!)

[ukiiseikou]

these hands that saved me, they're so fragile.

tartaglia x gn! reader. when you take a hit for him. he's referred to by his real name here.

you wouldn't really call yourself a fighter per say, more of an scholar or explorer. but like everyone else in the village, you knew some basic self defense - like how to hold a bow properly and the best way to wield a knife and cut through flesh. when you finally started dating ajax, he taught you how to throw a punch properly, with your fist as tight as possible and not with your thumb tucked into your palm, "because it'll break that way".

he's brought you on several trips already - fatui missions, you know, but he swears he has the time to lounge around and accompany you on your survey of various local offerings, and he makes well on his promises, despite the bruises and extra cuts he has to go through to clean up in time. you always scold him - don't go into a battle without a clear head! - but he laughs and says that it'll be a waste to come all the way here with his favourite person and not enjoy it.

you know he has his fair share of enemies - people who would do anything to take his head off. ajax jumps at any chance to fight - like a wolf that just learnt to bare it's teeth and fight tooth and nail with reckless abandonment. he comes home bloodied and bruised nine times out of ten, always with an apology hanging by his lips as you sit him down and wipe away the splash of blood on his cheek.

you've had your own close run-ins with his foes - even after ajax made an example out of the first group that dared to touch a hair of you, the fatui's enemies pinpointed you as the weakness of the eleventh harbinger - a surefire way of getting under his skin and catching him by surprise.

"i'll protect you," he murmurs every so often in your ear at night, arms tightening around your waist as he buried his head in the crook of your shoulder, "i'll be your knight."

"i know, ajax," you've always whispered back, smoothing back ginger curls and leaving a tender kiss on his forehead.

so that's why you didn't second guess yourself and threw yourself in the line of an arrow heading towards him in his blind spot. a sniper perched in a tree that quickly slinked off when the arrowhead pierced the flesh of your shoulder and you cried out in pain.

the overwhelming sensation of pain overtakes all your senses, you can barely hear ajax call out your name and you don't register him catching you in his arms and frantically patting you on your cheek. the taste of blood fills your mouth and your eyes water at the sensation - and smell of iron in the air.

your vision fades to black.

"i'll keep an eye on them. thanks for coming around, doctor."

ajax's voice finally makes it over the noise and his face finally makes it into focus in your vision. you vaguely register that you're on a bed and you can't feel the entirety of your left side.

"ajax?" you manage to croak out. you hear frantic feet against the floor and his face pops into view, brows drawn together in worry. the bed creaks under his weight as he sits on the bed beside you, leaning over your body.

"the doctor said that most people usually take 3 hours to wake up," he mutters, and you manage to catch it as he scans over you with scrutiny.

"guess i'm not most people," you manage to raise your right arm to give him at quick tap on his hand, which immediately moves to grasps yours and give you squeeze.

"does it hurt?"

"not really. can't feel it at all, actually."

he lets out a satisfied hum, before his blue eyes turn steely again.

"what you did was stupid. why did you do that - for me?"

"hey," you muster enough strength to squeeze his hand back in response, "it goes both ways, ajax. if you were me, you would done the same."

he fumes, because he knows you're right. he would rather throw himself to the flames than to watch anyone hurt you, and he knows that if he starts scolding you all you would do is do the same thing back to him.

he settles for sighing, playing with your fingers.

"i only wish it didn't have to be that way. i'm sorry, it's all on me. i should've been better."

he places your hand on his cheek, feeling the warmth against his skin.

"ajax," you say softly as his eyes close, "i told you before - i chose to be with you. i knew what i was getting into. so don't say sorry, okay?"

you watch as he inhales, then exhales, again.

"you really are the best, you know?"

not my best work but i suddenly felt the urge. like or reblog if you enjoyed thank you~

[forthegothicheroine]

Now I'm trying to reverse-engineer My Parents Sold Me to the Round Table...obscure Arthurian romance attributed to "A Lady", starts with the heroine's parents indenturing her to Arthur's court and outright stating she is to be a concubine, nevertheless depicts gallant love between her and every single knight, "dubiously canonical" but gets pointed to by scholars attempting to draw conclusions about hypothetical matriarchal Celtic cultures by positing it as depicting pre-Christian polyandry.

[romeave]

the real reason why mcd zane sucks, from purely a writing standpoint, is that the writers really want him to be a pure evil villian. a force of evil that can not be reasoned with or stopped. absolutely nuance free and unsympathetic no matter how you slice and dice it.

which, would normally be fine, but is a weird choice for zane specifically because the writers keep naturally bringing up ways to give him depth, only to bend over backwards to shut it down once they remember zane is supposed to be cardboard flat for their kid audience to remember he's the bad guy.

and by all the time i do mean all the time. here is a list of roads blocked off by the no development tree that fell across the road:

Zane grew up isolated even by the standards of noble children, as heirs to the O'khasis throne start their training rather young, and, according to accounts about his childhood, Zane preferred to spend his free time alone as opposed to with family. At some point, his father contracted some illness that turns people into asshole tyrants, and began to groom a very impressionable Zane into a good and obedient pawn for him to control on his quest for world domination -> Zane was actually always evil from birth, which makes him immune to trauma. Garte's dickheadness actually only affected the "good" Ro'Meaves, and actually it's Zane's influence that turned Garte into a bad person. Even shit that Garte did long after Zane died are Zane's fault by proxy.

Zane's strained relationship with his brothers are also largely attributed to Zane being evil. Honestly there's a lot I could put here but the most damning one is probably the fact that Zane isn't allowed to talk about his upbringing at all after vaguely mentioning having a dead brother on the docks.

Zane's initially introduced as an ambitious young priest who came to power due to his commitment to his studies. He secretly uses taboo ancient magic that people can't exactly come across if they don't have an obsessive drive to learn about the divines beyond the church's teachings. -> Actually Zane stole everything from "real scholars" and never actually cared about his research outside of what power it could bring him. Apparently he can't even read for himself without a "real scholar" in the room.

Zane's most terrible deeds (Kiki's pendant, Alexis, Falconclaw) were committed in service of opening the Irene dimension. Its implied that some, if not all of the specific deeds needed to open the portal were decided long before Zane ever got his hands on the amulets. -> Each portal-opening crime is treated as its own separate crime, motivated purely by sadism. Falconclaw specifically is referred to as a "horrific mass slaughter Zane had a lot of fun committing", even though everyone involved just painlessly fell over dead

Zane only raises a sword to people to have actively betrayed him. Jeffory betrayed him, the Wolf Tribe was plotting to eat him the next time he showed up, and Garroth committed treason two seperate times and shoved his own sword in Zane's face before Zane tried to kill him about it -> Evidence that Zane is just a bloodthristy killer who would kill his comrades unprompted. His victims are not traitors, but martyrs to his unreasonable wrath

Zane possessed the protector's relic for a period of time. Surely he must've had some reason to hold it -> Zane was entirely undeserving of the relic. He only had it because blood relations.

Despite already having a relic, Zane wants to get Irene's relic -> Exclusively to hoard power! No personal reasons or family reasons or nerd reasons. Just an insanely dangerous and high stakes task done solely to have them all. Like its a pokemon with life steal.

Zane gets turned into a Shadow Knight. Zane used to have an absurd amount of knowledge on the Shadow Knights, lots of shadow knights hate his gay ass, becoming a Shadow Knight is usually pretty traumati--> Zane doesn't feel trauma, duh!! He's actually stronger than ever.

And I know I'm aphblr's foremost Zane dick rider but this isn't a Zane did nothing wrong post its just bad writing. Zane's actions affect so much of the plot its fucking bonkers to give him the depth of an evil sheet of printer paper. Aph's usually pretty good at fleshing out her villians I don't know why the one guy who everyone and their mother has a connection to is just a knife roomba of a man. At the bare minimum he should've been as fleshed out as his brothers because then it'd be a tragic tale about a family being torn apart by a system they benefit from instead of a karma-farming AITAH post set in medival times.

[shanniethewr]

in loving arms

summary: men are cruel as they disgustingly label women lower than them. as unfortunate as it may seem, you fortunately have your dearest who proves that he's not as low as the vile creatures.

warnings: boys being disgusting, harassment, past toxic relationships, sexual harassment, name-calling (slut, whore), swearing, assault, mentions of violence, lowkey ooc

characters: albedo, cyno, kazuha, lyney, and tighnari gn!reader but implied having feminine items such as a purse lowercase intended + not proofread

ALBEDO

traversing through mondstadt was another mundane routine for you, helping the citizens with their troubles and whatnot. fortunately, things had been far more peaceful ever since the traveler had came and gave leeway for peace in the city of freedom.

but that didn't mean horrid things would suddenly stop overnight. oh no, definitely not. because the least you expected was to find yourself in a vacant room in the favonious headquarters, surrounded by what people call the knights.

"heh. you know you shouldn't be walking around with those skimpy clothes you got, looking like a slut." you cringed, feeling a shiver down your spine as you stepped backward from the nearing hand.

"you're absolutely disgusting. how the hell have you become a knight with that filthy attitude? archons, i feel truly disappointed for your parents." you spat with venom in your tone, the consequence for that was angering the knight.

"a feisty one, hah?" he grinned with a sickening feeling, and his hands soon laid on your body, groping in places it shouldn't be. "stop it!" you yelled, thrashing around, attempting to pull the man away. you were no fighter, and that was obvious.

you felt nauseous, you couldn't even comprehend the words that were being said. you just wanted to go see albedo, why must the world play and pull on the strings of your life?

"to think such behavior was conducted in the headquarters filled with people who's desires are to protect the people, not to harass them... truly disappointing." a familiar voice, the speech was relaxed, if not, unfazed. however, there was a tone of hostility, dripping with poison.

albedo, whose eyes are glimmering with disgust and anger, a contrast to his gentle and calm expression. "c-chief alchemist!" you took the opportunity to slip away, quick to get to albedo's side and taking his hand in yours, an attempt of comforting yourself and to soothe the chalk prince's anger.

"i'm sorry my dear, have i not been caught up with affairs, this wouldn't have happened." albedo said, eyes softening when meeting with yours, lips on your forehead as you relished in his calming presence. "you can go wait outside, i'll just deal with some unnecessary variables."

ushered to exit the room, you saw nothing, but you sure did hear the sound of a fist meeting with a face along with the cries of the knight begging for forgiveness.

CYNO

being a scholar in the akademiya and the rumored beloved of the general mahamatra was not a peaceful matter as you thought of it before. fortunately, it had its perks, the downside was that some people just forget about it.

"c'mon baby, let's just forget the past and move on, 'kay?" the man, boy, you used to call your lover has been invading your personal privacy and has been continuously annoying you about it.

'how the hell did he even find me...' you thought, gritting your fists as you stood up from your seat, being agitated for far too long. "hey! don't ignore me babe!"

exiting lambad's tavern, the night sky of sumeru looks down upon your figure along with the radiant stars. the scenery would be perfect for a romantic and dreamy moment, but unfortunately, an irritating being is stuck to you like a leech, having no intention of letting go.

"can you fucking stop!?" you yelled after the constant annoyance of the presence following you for archons knows how long, stunning your ex, standing in shock at your sudden outburst. "there's no future for the two of us! if you wanted one, you should've treated me like the way you want to be treated! i will never go back to the likes of you again."

"is that how you treat me? after i took care and loved you for so long!?" that was all you needed to snap, as the loud sound of a slap was heard echoing in the quiet, empty streets of sumeru.

"took care of me!? what the hell are you talking about you bastard!? i was the one who did all of your unfinished works and projects, i was the one making money!! you, you ungrateful bastard always took the savings i had just to buy some useless pair of jewelry only to find out you were giving it to some other girl!"

tears brimmed your eyes as you felt your throat becoming hoarse after every second of yelling at the awful man in front of you. archons, you just wanted to have a peaceful drink at a tavern, not to meet the person you hated the most.

because damn, he was acting like a fucking weed.

"hah!? you're really starting to become more disobedient now, talking back to me." you yelped in pain as he pulled on your hair, kneeing your stomach as you coughed in pain.

"where's your lover now, huh? don't tell me all of those rumors were fake." he chuckled evilly as you sob from the pain.

and everything went like a blur, you heard your ex howling in pain along with the sounds of bones being broken. not soon after, you were cradled in strong arms against a sturdy chest, the very action soothed your pain and worries.

"you weren't home my love, don't worry, i'm here now, i won't let anything bother you from now on." cyno's stern yet gentle voice brought you to reality as you melted in his embrace.

cyno's amber eyes soon turned into the eyes of a predator eyeing its prey, a frown on his lips, one of anger. "and as for you. i recommend you not to bother them anymore, less you want to be enclosed behind cold bars, feel free to take up the offer anytime."

your ex panicked, taking off in fear. your lover huffed, soon carrying you in his sturdy arms. "sorry cyno, for.. making you worry." you quietly stated against his chest as he remained quiet for a few moments before speaking.

"please, don't. it's my duty to make sure you're safe and loved, so no matter what, i trust that you will rely on me in times of need."

KAZUHA

you leisurely walked into the streets of inazuma, enjoying the taste of freedom after the sakoku decree was abolished, there was a new upbeat in the city and the people were thriving.

that was only a few minutes ago, until you found yourself in a quiet alleyway with a weird man cornering you. "you shouldn't have gone walking around like that, you filthy whore, that desperate for attention?"

there wasn't anything special about your clothes, a typical inazuman outfit with a few alterations thanks to your dear friend, ayaka, who told the seamstress to add a few decorations, claiming it would brighten your beauty more.

"you creep. just because the sakoku decree was abolished, that doesn't mean you can just waltz in and start sexualizing our cultural outfit! have you not heard of respect!?" you countered, glaring at the man as your grip on your purse tightened, you should've asked kazuha for some martial lessons at the very least.

"but i can do whatever the hell i want. it's your fault for wearing those clothes." his hand was on your shoulder, attempting to pull down the sleeves as you thrashed your arms around.

"NO! STOP IT!" you hated this, you wanted to run, scream. but how could you do that when you're pinned against the wall as the man was grinning evilly? you prayed for the archons to at least save you from this moment.

and fortunately enough, your prayers were answered.

"attempting to sexually assault on an unwilling individual, much less my beloved, you've inclined me to do worse than having you rot behind the bars of inazuma." a voice so gentle yet cold and stern, kazuha spoke, hands gripped into a fist, "who the hell are you!?"

"just a wanderer passing by. now, if you'd allow me..." the samurai was quick to act on his feet, punching the stranger, causing him to falter and fall to his knees. kazuha immediately embraced you in his loving arms, lightly combing his fingers through your locks in hopes of soothing your shaking figure as he hid your partially clothed body from anyone's eyes.

"i'm sorry for taking so long, my dove. from now on, i swear on my name to never let you experience such things again. i will be your sword and i will protect you until death does us part."

LYNEY

the quiet atmosphere of the backstage was what you needed after a tiring night of endless cheering for your lover's and his sister's performance. undoubtedly, their performance was always pristine and beautiful, like always.

most of the staff had already packed away and home they went, for sleep had fallen among most of the people in fontaine. you were simply waiting for lyney as promised, claiming he had to go finish a quick task, leaving you alone in the empty opera.

the least you expected was to find yourself on the floor with a man you feared, on top of you with a terrifying grin on his lips. he has your hands pinned above your head as you weakly kick your legs around, only for it to be held down with his legs.

"i never expected you to wait like an obedient puppy for a man other than me! i think you deserve to be punished, i mean, come on, cheating already when we're just taking a break?"

you gritted your teeth in agitation, "the hell do you mean break? we broke up years ago! who the hell said we're still together?" you spat, glaring hard against the man on top of you.

"is that so? then i have no choice but to force you, it's your fault for doing this to me. if only you could've acted like you would with that filthy magician." a blade, seemingly out of nowhere was in his possession, lightly pressing it against your cheek as your breath hitched.

"knock it off!" you yelled, thrashing your limbs around as the man let out a disgusting laugh, enjoying the suffering he was putting you through.

"trespassing in the backstage is not something for audiences like you, especially when you dare to attack mon trésor, is something that i will not let go of lightly regardless of the circumstances." lyney said, his charming smile was seen yet his aura was the contrast of the magician lyney. he is upset, in the sense of madness.

"hah! what can you even do? throw cards at me?" the man chortled, you however, were subtly trying to escape from his grasp which lyney noticed. with a snap of his fingers, you found yourself in the arms of the one you dearly loved. "what!?"

"oh, i'll do something far worse than that. you see, i've been wanting to test out a new magic trick, one where they saw and tear through your limbs. your actions today demonstrated that you're the perfect candidate for such a terrific trick!" lyney's voice was coated in venom, his eyes glared with the intention to do something to the man.

you heard only bits and parts, as his hands were over your eyes and ears, embracing you closer to him as a gesture that you were safe with him. that was a pure and pristine fact, as the magician lyney would filter his words about you with nothing but truths.

"let the show begin! ah, but before that, mon trésor, please wait outside for a while. don't worry, i promise not to make you wait for too long, and i will make sure i will protect you as it is my duty as your lover to do so."

TIGHNARI

a visit to gandharva ville was a normal weekly routine for you, as you had a busy job, and so did your partner, tighnari. but that didn't stop the two of you to express your love to one another each weekly visit.

you were patiently waiting for him at an empty hut, quietly indulging in the music of nature as you sipped on your favorite drink that collei knew all too well, having it prepared before your arrival.

"oh hey! look who it is, it's been a while, old friend." one of your former scholars from the akademiya said, taking a seat in front of you as you smiled, "you as well. how are you fairing lately?"

"same old, same old. how about you? i heard you've gotten a partner recently." you nodded in response, "yup! he's actually—" "he must be lucky, huh?"

you went silent, a shiver crawling down your spine, and you knew something wasn't right. "what do you mean?" "well, you know, you've always been a heavy sleeper. i could've done anything to you and you wouldn't even wake up or even know about it."

"but it's not surprising if he'd already done that to you. i mean, even arjurn and daksh wanted to do you but they never got a chance. gotta give them one in the future, right?" he laughed as if he was just talking about the weather while you were shocked, disgusted even.

"please leave," you stated, glaring hard at the person you once thought as a friend in front of you, only for him to wolf whistle in return. "feisty huh?"

his hand wandered under the table and found itself on your thighs, causing you to flinch and stand up abruptly. "if you're here just to make disgusting comments about me and my partner, leave! you are not needed here."

"come on sweetheart, that can't do. besides, he doesn't need to know what'll happen between us." standing up, you found yourself defensively taking a step back from the awful creature in front of you.

"stop it. leave! i don't need you or your disgusting presence in this room, right now! if you won't leave, then i have no choice to report you to the chief officer of the forest rangers."

"then, let's just make this quick, alright? just—"

"they said to leave. you have made a trespassed against a very dangerous territory sir, with that filthy behavior, you are officially never welcomed in gandharva ville again." tighnari spoke from behind, his galre hard as his voice remained cold and ruthlessly.

making a beeline towards tighnari, you found yourself in his embrace along with his sweet gesture of a forehead kiss. "you dare to force my partner into something they were unwilling to do, have i seen them being harassed and forced into the act, i will not act as merciful as i did today."

"so please. leave, before i make your consequence harsher than it is. if you dare to go near to my lotus again, i am not afraid to make a hole in that head of yours."

— © wr.shannie created on 8.26.23 finished on 8.27.23

do NOT copy or plagiarize my work!!

[zhongrin]

cw. word vomit, short thoughts/analysis of jing yuan and zhongli's demo trailer instrument because i love them too much your honor

i've just realized that jing yuan's theme uses a guqin (and an erhu too i guess, but the guqin jumped at me more for some reason) and i want to cry because immediately my brain made the connection between the (limited) knowledge i have about that instrument and his character's traits.

from what i was taught, guqin is ancient (and i mean that man is certainly ancient too-). and while it has fewer strings than a guzheng (21 vs 7) it's actually harder to play because it has so many strict rules on how to play it on the fingering part. it emphasizes on rules and techniques, and learning a guqin supposedly means you're going to learn and follow them down to the t.

and immediately i'm reminded of how we've seen that jing yuan is a dedicated person when it comes to training and xianzhou in general. he's patient in honing his skills and he knows the importance of having the basics down. just like with knight training, as we've seen again and again while he trains yanqing. or like when he strategizes in the luofu main storyline and the wardance recently.

there's also a more 'scholarly' connotation to qins because apparently it's an instrument that elite scholars usually play, so that's already an obvious connection - we all know jing yuan is smart. he knows he's smart. and he uses that brain of his to plan beautiful, cunning things. which we all love him for.

also this is more personal to me, but guqin has a lower tone(?) than guzheng and i feel like this is why i favor cyyu's rendition of jing yuan more. that lower baritone. yes.

and then i started thinking about how zhongli's theme predominantly uses an erhu. and again. it just. fits. if you try playing an erhu for the first time, chances are, you won't even be able to make a decent sound. most people don't. i didn't. considering the fact that it's just two strings and you're trying to make a variety of sound by literally sandwiching and grazing horse hair onto them, it makes sense you wouldn't be able to. also, erhu doesn't have frets or any sort of indicators for playing certain notes, you just have to essentially be familiar enough with the instrument over where you have to place your fingers.

it's an instrument that requires patience, technique, familiarity, time. i don't know about you, but that sounds like a core aspect of zhongli's personality. and i think it's very neat.

but also interestingly enough, apparently erhu doesn't originate from china while guqin/guzheng does (as my instructor said, if it's written in one character, it's originated from china - so (gu)zheng, (gu)qin, (zhong/xiao)ruan are in, but erhu, pipa are written with 2 characters so they're out). you wouldn't have guessed it. i wouldn't have guessed it. i'm telling you, this man is keeping a secret about his origins and he's going to bamboozle us at the end game. checkmate, morax, or should i say GEO DRAGON SOVEREIー /is bonked

[chacusha]

Visions of Mana class system

A lot of information about Vision of Mana's class system has been released on the Japanese website (see source).

Val's classes: [No element:] Soul Guard (moribito). [Wind:] Rune Knight. [Moon:] Aegis. [Water:] Duelist. [Fire:] Liege (Lord). [Wood:] Edelfrei (Swordmaster).

Val's classes are very "knight" archetype, mostly based on Duran's classes (Duelist, Liege, and Edelfrei) with a bit of Riesz (Rune Knight) and some that are new although still in line with the knight theme (Aegis).

Careena's classes: [No element:] Oracle (kannagi). [Wind:] Dancer (maihime). [Moon:] Moon-reader(?) (tsukiyomi). [Water:] Dragon Master. [Fire:] Divine Fist (Godhand). [Wood:] Exorcist(?) (onmyouji).

Most of Careena's classes are new ones based around a kind of priestess or shaman sort of vibe (Oracle, Dancer, Tsukiyomi - not sure what the localized name for this will be but I wonder if it will be something like Fortune Teller - and Onmyouji). But some of her classes reference Riesz (Dragon Master) and Kevin (Divine Fist - this outfit is BOMB by the way).

Morley's classes: [No element:] Ranger. [Wind:] Nomad (Wanderer). [Moon:] Nightblade. [Water:] Hermit. [Fire:] Rogue. [Wood:] Samurai.

Morley's classes are entirely based on Hawkeye's classes (Ranger, Nomad, Nightblade, Rogue), with some new additions along that same thief/rogue/vagrant vein (Hermit, Samurai - I wonder if this one will be localized as Ronin or something to fit the theme).

Palamena's classes: [No element:] Queen. [Wind:] Rune Seer (Rune Master). [Moon:] Empress. [Water:] Grand Diviner. [Fire:] Masquer (Masquerade). [Wood:] Beastleader (Beast Tamer).

Palamena seems to have a mix of royalty-themed classes (Queen, Empress), Angela's classes (Rune Seer, Grand Diviner), and some new additions that seem quite quirky (Masquer, Beastleader). I'm a fan of the pirate-themed Masquer costume and the blue Grand Diviner costume (makes me think of Angela's pixel art).

Julei's classes: [No element:] Custodian (Watcher). [Wind:] Hamelin. [Moon:] Warlock. [Water:] Scholar. [Fire:] Gatekeeper. [Wood:] Sage.

Julei is the squishiest mage ever the party healer, so his classes are very much based on Charlotte's (Warlock, Sage; Scholar is not a Charlotte class but is kinda in line with that theme). He also seems to have a sentry theme as well (Custodian, Gatekeeper), and I'm not sure what is going on with the Hamelin class; maybe it will have some musical/musical instrument elements to it given that horn on his hip?

Overall, it looks like we have four of Trials of Mana's six classes that are aligned with one character each (Duran (->Val), Hawkeye (->Morley), Angela (->Palamena), and Charlotte (->Julei)), with the last two (Riesz and Kevin) being distributed wherever they fit.

Anyway, I am so excited. I love me a good class system, especially when it comes with different costumes, especially when the costume designs are as fun and elaborate as these ones are. (This is like Bravely Default all over again, haha.)

[yanmunchymochi]

2P!Poland Info

(concept by @j0jorocity , i only do the arts)

sigh... i can't believe I'm gonna post this instead of jojo, but at least i don't need to gatekeep the 2p lietpol arts anymore after this heh

Human Name: Czesław Łukasiewicz

Name Meaning: “Czesław” means “glory”, which is quite ironic…

Physical Age: 26

Gender: Male

Sexuality: Gay

Height: 5’6

Weight: 119 lbs (53 kg)

Eye Colour: Pale green

Hair Color: Dirty blonde

Outfit: He always wears a long crimson red scarf with solid pale yellow sweater and dull blue baggy pants.

Personality/Background:

For a man with that strong of a name, surely you expect a knight in shining armour. Actually, Czesław is frail and notoriously weak, normally relying on his servants or Kęstutis to do things for him. Most of the times, he doesn’t even have the energy to get out of bed.

He’s somewhat of a crybaby and really pessimistic. It feels like it’s in his blood to be a mood-killer—he spent his first 16 years cooped up in an empty palace with nobody to speak to besides his workers, so once he finally came into the real world, he had no experience what it was like to hold a conversation about the weather. Like aforementioned, he is notoriously weak—despite being royalty, he really can’t do anything… Czesław is practically on his own with nothing to tie him to besides his title; prince.

Somehow, he managed to make one friend—Kęstutis. The latter finds him annoying and weak and really pathetic… but he’d give his life for him in an instant. He doesn’t confirm, but it’s possible one of the reasons Kęstutis tries so hard to escape from Nicholas is so he can finally be with Czesław.

Relationships:

- soon -

Extra:

• Czesław's red scarf - one of his most important things - was given by Queen Jadwiga, which she made it herself. Then she gave it to Czesław as a little birthday gift, which means a lot to Czesław. He treasures it a lot and often wears it since then.

• Czesław's natural hair colour is dark brown/black. He dyed his hair when Kęstutis was taken away by Nicholas.

• Czesław is used to living under Kęst's caring at that point which he relies almost everything on to Kęstutis. Sometimes Kęstutis gets annoyed by Czesław's requests and he could be very strict towards Czesław at times.

Czesław sometimes uses the excuse of "I didn't know" to get Kęst to do stuff for him, and Kęst doesn't mind at all.

• Czesław often feels guilty about the way he uses Kęst and the way Kęst helped him without asking for any repayment, so Czesław tries very hard to make up for it in little ways although Kęstutis thinks it was unnecessary to do so.

• Czesław have a lot of plushies and soft pillows in his room. When Kęstutis is not around him, he could hug the stuffed animals or pillows while imagining them as Kęstutis to release stress and get away from the feelings of anxious, loneliness and the hallucinations of being stalked or watched by someone.

• Czesław suffers from PTSD, panic attacks and sleep paralysis, and he often catches cold. This explains why his cabinet have a lot of bottled pills and medicines.

• Czesław was aware that he's underweight, but he has crippling anxiety and forgets to eat sometimes.

• Czesław experiences through religious guilt. Although raised mostly alone, was raised in a religious environment. His servants had sent scholars to him to teach him about the Bible and other Christian things, so you can imagine how awful he must have felt when he finally realised his feelings for Kęstutis were romantic (since he was taught homosexuality was a sin).

Song:

[lloydfrontera]

You know, regarding Lloyd's achievement in history and whether ordinary citizens know him or not made me crave post canon modern au.

Imagine seeing an in universe fanfic authors notes in ao3 or twitter crying about how they simply wanted to write a story set in Lloys time but they just keep diving into rabbit holes.

Kinda like

"So i was writing an historical au set in Alician era where the MC had a detour in Cremo and he was admiring a statue by the sea with a local explaining its history. Of course, I needed to do some research only to found out that Lloyd Frontera, YES, THAT Lloyd Frontera who made the Pantara railroad defeated some sea monster, nearly died and got statue for it"

Maybe someone from Beneto Kingdom being so confused because all he learned from history in school (Beneto history) is that Lloyd is just some brilliant engineer so he got specially confused on why in the movie he was watching set in Alician era is Lloyd fighting a goddamn bone dragon.

I'm interested on how scholars and political figures bemoan and analyse Lloyd's action and achievement but ordinary people's Internet discourse could be so much fun as well.

Javier and Lloyd getting the Alexander and Haphaestion treatment on whether they were lovers or not. The discourse would be so toxic lol.

oh my god forget changing the history of civil engineering forever, sparking the nastiest discourse ever on history/fandom internet forums is lloyd's true greatest achievement akshfksdg

he's the go to historical domain character used to set the time period for a historical movie/book/series. he's the guy writers insert to give their work a more period accurate vibe. everyone knows just enough about him to make really passionate history nerds very angry about all the inaccuracies and made up facts that are taken as common knowledge.

i'm thinking people of completely different online circles all knowing about lloyd in some capacity but regarding completely separate facets of his life and work and being so surprised when they accidentally find yet another whole field lloyd revolutionized. like.

a sword nerd who's really into the concept of the asrahan core technique and knows perfectly well that lloyd helped invent it getting gobsmacked about the fact that's the same guy that laid the ground for modern sewer systems.

a fan of historical romance stories who is used to seeing lloyd as a fun cameo in the background of stories set in the alician period being really confused when they open their book on thermodynamics and see there's a whole chapter dedicated to a method lloyd figured out to create ice without the need of magic.

a train enthusiast who is really fascinated by the rudimentary switchback system lloyd frontera implemented when the concept of a train wasn't even known in the empire being completely dumbfounded when their friends invite them to see a movie about that one time lloyd frontera and his knight defeated a knight of hell in namaran.

i think it's definitely a meme to post "so i was doing research for my asfahan au and went on a rabbit hole and guess who fucking built the qanat that's widely regarded as the only reason the kingdom didn't fall into civil war. take a wild fucking guess" "was it lloyd frontera" "IT WAS FUCKING LLOYD FRONTERA OF COURSE IT WAS"

i'm also certain there would be some guys who think he's overrated and people should really stop talking so much about him when there's so many other historical figures who are just as interesting and not as recognized 🙄. to which people immediately go "mad cause your history blorbo didn't defeat a bone dragon aren't you" at them

Javier and Lloyd getting the Alexander and Haphaestion treatment on whether they were lovers or not. The discourse would be so toxic lol.

they definitely get the alexander and hephaestion treatment you are so correct. they're also the achilles and patroclus of the modern magentano girlies. there's a bunch of 'queer retellings' of their lives. they're the go to example for homoerotic friendships. there's a bunch of edits that mix historical paintings of them with ship fanart with that 'history hates lovers' song playing over them. dudebros get really angry about it. llojavi truthers pull out their 20 pages long annotations that start with "they fucking slept in the same bedroom for years" and it only gets worse.

there's one poor person online who just really fucking wants to know how and why lloyd frontera changed faces one day out of the blue with no one ever explaining it. there's no official records. no member of the royal family ever made a statement about it. why is everyone acting like the frontera family didn't have one eldest son for 25-29 years and one day suddenly had a completely different one. what the fuck is going on.

so. yeah. i'm a little obsessed with this concept actually ajkshdksa

[1800-page-not-found]

Being drunk and complaining how you think your bf/gf is prettier than you (genshin men+women x fem reader) PART 3

ITS THE HARBINGERSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

Not doing scaramouche cuz i already did in part 2

Dottore, Columbina, Sandrone x reader (seperate)

TW: implied unhealthy relationship (for dottore bc that man does not treat anyone like a human being, i have mixed feelings about that guy), and id like to state that i do NOT support toxic relationships.

Making another part for the other harbingers bc im really sleepy rn and I just wanna give you guys something because I havent posted in a long time.

The next part contains Pantalone, Tartaglia, Arlecchino x reader (seperate)

Maybe i'll do Signora, Pierro, and Capatino? but Capatino wears a mask??? wtv lol

Please note that you may not like "[name]"s personality, as it may differ from yours.

You had met Zandik when he was a scholar at the Akademiya, before he was expelled for his crimes and immoral acts. Fortunately, unlike the last girl who had fancied him, Sohreh, he did not mutilate your body, because somehow in that rather small and close to non existing heart of his, was you.

But unfortunately, you could not escape his unhinged mindset. You relied too much on the Akasha System. When he did get expelled, you followed with him. After all, thats what the Akasha showed which was best for you. Hundreds of years went by, and he became a powerful harbinger. He still gave you freedom, to some extent. So how did you wind up at his office, crying and drunk?

"Zandik" You cried.

You were ultimately weak in the mind due to your heavy dependency that Dottore had created for you. He smiled as you cried into his shoulder, dampening his clothes.

"Yes dear? What happened for you to come crying to me?" He was your white knight.

You quickly learned that somehow, dottore would always save you, relieving you of your agony. Like he did with the ruin machines when they found Sohreh's body.

"O-one of your clones said you didn't love me and you had another woman…" you hiccup in between your words.

"My dear, do not fret, there are no other women in my life besides you. Why would I require someone else? Those clones can be quite troublesome, and not all of them are friendly. I apologize for their behavior." He soothed you, patting your back. 'Yes, yes...let it all out,' he thought. His clones were doing well, their original sole purpose was to create insecurities and confusion in your mind.

"But-But, I'm not even that pretty, even you're prettier than me! Theres plenty of women who are better than me-what if you dont love me one day?" You mumble, your head still lying on his shoulder.

"Darling, I have to say, I am surprised by your irrational behavior. My affection for you is undeniable, and the fact that you would suggest otherwise is quite hurtful..." Your eyes widened.

Oh, how could you hurt him like that?! After everything he's done for you?...

"No-no! I'm sorry I didn't mean to hurt you, I-"

"Do you trust me [name]?" He cuts you off.

"Huh? Of course I do!"

"Good, now please can we move on? If we continue to talk about this, my heart will ache even more." He starts to make an expression that he knows will make you feel guilty. You've really fallen deeper into the rabbit hole now.

--------

Columbina had saved you at your lowest, and you had devoted your every fiber of yourself to her. You decided to get stronger, your sole motivation being paying back your benefactor. Well, that was until the angel-like harbinger said you could pay her back by forming a relationship with her.

You did start off as friends, but that slowly spiraled into a more intimate relationship. You promised to be there for her whenever and wherever, but really, does the harbinger who's ranked third really need protecting?... I mean, you're so much weaker than her, how can you protect her when she's in danger?

That thought slowly grew in your mind-you can't help but just let it all out when drunk on the fine vodka Columbina had brought back for you and her to enjoy...until well, you drank the whole bottle.

You stared at the empty bottle in your hand that once held the highest quality of vodka.

"[name], my dear, what's on your mind?" Columbina spoke softly, her voice sounding like a lovely melody in your ears.

"Mmmm...I don't wanna bother youuu..." You dragged out your words, slurring your speech.

Columbina stood up from the couch and took the bottle out from your hands and gently placed it on the glass coffee table, making a small 'kling' sound. She sat back down and held your hands, which were rather cold so she decided to warm them up.

It was strange how she always kept her eyes closed, but no matter what always aware of her surroundings. This only increased your insecurity, after all, only one with great strength could do such things...and you couldn't.

"[name]." She let go of your hands and placed hers on your cheek, and kissed you softly. "Your thoughts will never be a bother all right? I'll always be there to protect you and be by your side." She smiled at you warmly.

You started to cry, the alcohol heightening your emotions. "That's-that's the thing!" You let out a sob, wiping your tears. "I-I don't want to just rely on you, I want you to rely on me too! But, I'm so much weaker than you and, and you excel in everything! You're smart, strong, independent, and so, so much prettier than me and everyone, you deserve so much better than me I-" Your rant was cut short when Columbina kissed you again softly.

"Oh, [name], I never knew you felt this way, I want you to know that I rely on you every single day, there is not a single moment where I don't rely on you. I know you probably don't believe it, but you make me feel so happy. I don't care if you think that I outshine you, because in my eyes you're the most beautiful and amazing person in the entirety of Teyvat. You're perfect in my eyes just the way you are, and no one else can take that spot." Her voice really soothed you, and as she spoke, you stopped crying.

"R-really? You mean it?..." You sniffled, wiping your tears off your face.

"Yes, now please, there's no need to cry anymore alright?" she kissed your forehead and held you in a warm embrace on the couch.

"Mhm…alright, thank you, I love you…" You rubbed your eyes, tired from crying and fell asleep in Columbina's arms.

Once you were sound asleep, Columbina picked you up, carrying you in her arms bridal style and set you gently on the bed, making sure you're comfortable before crawling into the bed and cuddling with you.

The next day, you woke up, eyes puffy and not a single memory of last night. When you asked your lover, she just giggled and walked away, leaving you confused.

--------

Sandrone was an interesting character. When you first met, you had actually died. Well more like on the verge of death. Somehow, for some reason, she had saved you, as she had basically turned you into part automaton.

You were supposedly her 'puppet', but, puppets don't act this human. You were crazy for confessing your love to her, the harbinger who was known for only caring about her own works, and having a god awful personality to come with it.

Well, fortunately for you, you did count as one of her works, so perhaps that was the reason why she accepted your confession and you two started being in a relationship?...you still couldn't wrap your mind about this, you were really happy to say the least.

Today, you had practically begged her to come with you to have a picnic and stargaze. She was being quite stubborn. But of course, she couldn't outmatch your own stubbornness and you, thus she gave in.

You were so excited, yet here you were, sitting on the blanket, extremely drunk. You smiled at her, all giggly and bubbly as you wrapped yourself around her arm, hugging her.

Sandrone sighed and frowned, she stopped her work just for this? I mean, it was you... (She'd never admit to loving spending time with you, she's gotta keep her reputation up... but everyone knows, even you, that she has an extremely soft spot for you (and only you.))

"[name]...quit staring at me like that!" sandrone flicked your forehead, earning an 'owwww' from you.

After recovering from the ferocious attack, you laughed and smiled. "But you're just sooooo pretty! I can't keep my eyes off you, the prettiest girl in Teyvat!"

You lowered your voice to a whisper "I think you're prettier than me, all the other harbingers, and the Tsaritsa- Ow!"

She slapped the back of your head. "I will not allow you to speak of her majesty the Tsaritsa like that, [name]!"

She crossed her arms and turned her head away from you, looking angry.

Although, her words seemed to contradict her statement just now. She spoke quietly under her breath, "plus, youre the most prettiest girl in Teyvat, [name]..."

You perked up, perhaps having heightened senses was a good thing. "I heard that!" You shouted and smiled. "You really think that-"

"W-what?! No! You must be imagining things!" She yelled back at you. "Damn it, I shouldn't have heightened your sense of hearing too! Ugh!"

All you did was laugh teasingly at her frustration and embarrassment getting caught being nice, specifically to you. Until you blacked out from the alcohol. That reallllllllyyyy freaked her out, as she frantically carried you back home. (Well, the only reason she showed her 'nicer' side was really due to the only witness being her modified automaton.)

You had slept for a whole day before waking up at noon, with a god awful hangover, causing you to throw up.

(Sandrone ordered one of her machines to take care of you in secret and report to her every hour about your status.)

[occasionallyprosie]

So I'm trying to incorporate more nicknames for the boys, so here's what I got so far, any additions or ones I've missed?

--

Four

Smith/Smithy

Little One (by Time)

Little Guy (by Triple Threat)

Rainbow

Hyrule

Traveler

Explorer

Rule/Rulie

Healer (post Life Spell reveal)

Calatian (country of origin)

Legend

Veteran/Vet

Collector

Hoarder (by Warriors and Twilight, derogatory, becomes affectionate)

Scholar

Apple (by Twilight and Wind)

Kid (by Wind)

Kit (by Twilight and Sky)

Sky

Skyloftian (shortens to Sky)

Sky Knight (shortens to Sky)

Chosen

Birdbrain

Lover boy (affectionate, by Downfall Duo)

Woodcarver

Time

Old Man

Sprite (by Warriors)

Ancestor (by Twilight)

Fairy Boy (post meeting Malon, by Downfall Duo and Wind)

Twilight

Rancher

Goat Herd

Ordonian (town of origin)

Pup (by Time)

Country Boy (by Warriors, derogatory)

Forest (by Legend and Wind)

Warriors

Captain (or any other military form of address)

Pretty Boy (by Legend, derogatory, becomes affectionate)

Soldier Boy (by Twilight, derogatory, becomes affectionate)

Wild

Champion

Cook

Wild Child (affectionate)

Cub (by Twilight and Time)

Wanderer

Wind

Sailor

Pirate

Ocean (by Legend and Twilight)

Kid (by Twilight and Warriors)

Conductor (by Legend)

Tune/Tunie (by Time and Warriors)

Whys for some:

Rulie and Chosen (Hyrule and Sky) -> Both make the mistake of telling the group their hero titles, Hyrule is eventually nicknamed Rulie by Legend and Wild as a result (nobody else calls him that), and Sky gets Chosen from everybody.

Apple, Forest, and Ocean (Legend, Twilight, and Wind) -> Nicknames from Triforce Heroes (from my hc of them being the Triforce Heroes)

Kid (Legend) -> Another nickname from Triforce Heroes, Wind is the only one who calls him that in LU though (Twilight takes too long to realize Apple and the Veteran are the same person)

Kit (Legend) -> Sky and Twi start calling him that after the bunny incident, Twi does it first and Sky joins in after because he's a gremlin and both know Legend hates (eventually likes) it

Conductor (Wind) -> Caused by music night when Wind leads the music with the Wind Waker and just sticks