#faramund

[hlootooart]

To the Black Baron:

What is your real name? Cuz I know it's not 'The Baron'.

Also.... How's your relationship with your parents? If they're still alive that is....

Ah. I believe I’ve heard of this before. They’re part of one of these so called “ask blogs”.

Hold back men. Not yet.

I’ve heard word of Junker Paphos having this exact same predicament. Unlike him, I don’t welcome uninvited guests all too well or too long in my domain. Less so my castle. The worst sort are ones prodding into places far above them. However, since you appear to have somewhat the awareness of a small child, it’d only be fair to ammend your lack of education.

I’ll keep this brief.

My family life and personal matters are no one’s business but my own. You see, kleiner schatz, it’s frightfully rude to go up to perfect strangers and inquire about them. This is obvious for anyone who’s capable of higher thoughts than a sheep, but we’ve already established your lack of refinement. You and a sort of whelp seem like you’d bond over this. How quaint. Which leads us to the second lesson of today: regardless of whether you scrape gong from behind a stable or live in an ivory tower— you will address me with my proper rightful title of Herzog Faramund, von und zu Waldzuflucht, anything lesser than Herzog will be treated with contempt. I’m not even going to repeat that absurd label you retched from your mouth, and I suggest you don’t do so either. Least alone in my presence—unless you’re not all that attached to your tongue… and want be even less so.

Now that I’ve enlightened you, class is over.

GUNDLACH.

(Well at least they didn’t kill you.)

(Oh…)

“Ask blog”, what a ridiculous notion. And “Black Baron”. Where did they get such a dunder-headed, insulting idea anyway?

….

Gundlach….

G: Yes mein Durchlaucht.

Get my list….I have some “shopping” to do.

————————————

As you can see, he gets a little touchy about proper titles…and his family…

You got his name at least! :D

And P.S. I know those knights are really lazy looking, lol.

————————————

Reblogs are appreciated! Do not repost or trace etc. anywhere.

[liminals-space]

that fucking bird that i hate

[nextinline-if]

I just completed the demo and loved it! I really like F (or my MC does). I just hope F understands that MC isn’t the same person she was when they were kids. Anyway, thank you for the experience so far!

thank you so much and I'm glad you enjoyed it! I assure you, there will be opportunities to remind F of that very fact!

[dragons-bones]

FFXIV Write Entry #29: Only the Good Die Young

Prompt: thanatopsis (free write) || Master Post || On AO3 (coming in October)

A/N: Sooooo you remember how I was mildly bummed at the end of last year's FFXIV Write because the prompt could not at all fit the idea I had wanted to cap the challenge off with?

This is that idea.

---

The King of Ruin was dead and it should have been a momentous, joyous day.

Instead, as news of Theodoric’s death at the hands of the Resistance spread through Ala Mhigo and its citizens began to raggedly cheer, the clouds had parted above the city, and Garlean airships had begun raining down blue fire. And while the city shook and cheering turned to screams, someone opened the Ghimlyt Gate, and the ranks of the XIVth Legion entered the city.

No matter what the Ala Mhigans did, their city would fall. Five years of the Mad King’s rule had drained Ala Mhigo of her vitality; the Resistance had broken the Corpse Brigade, but they had neither the numbers nor the experience to stand against the Black Wolf. There would be no throwing back the Garlean advance.

But every warrior and mage still capable of fighting could ensure as many people escaped as possible.

And so, Tyr Greywolfe raced through the family manor, doing a final check of each room to ensure no one was left behind.

The last of the servants, including little Synnove’s nanny and the housekeeper, had slipped away a few days ago as the tension preceding the king’s overthrow began to reach its crescendo, fleeing the city should the Resistance fail. But there was always the chance one might have returned to fetch a forgotten belonging, or that someone was trying to seek shelter as ceruleum fell from the sky and destroyed walls and homes and history. Today, at least, every room was empty.

Maybe one day they wouldn’t be.

Tyr flew down the hallways, through the entrance hall, and out of the front doors so fast that his sheathed blades slapped bruises into his thighs even with being safely strapped down. His mother’s gardens were trampled and ruined, but he doubted her ghost would mind; their widower neighbor, Walcher Steelwolfe (cadet branch of a completely unrelated House Wolfe that had long since died out), had brought his chocobo carriage, and he was soothing both frightened birds as Havardr and Father got the women and children into the back. The roar of cannons echoed overhead and the clash of swords came from the east; the Wolf’s Den was one of the neighborhoods closest to the Ghimlyt Gate, and the XIVth was trying to push further in.

“House is clear!” Tyr called out.

His goodsister was carefully moving into the back of the carriage to allow the rest of the family onboard; he saw her clutching a satchel that he knew was full of important documentation, and hoped that Isolde’s foresight wouldn’t be needed in the coming days and sennights. Faramund was lifted up after her, but Father paused briefly to pull his only grandson into a crushing hug. The boy clutched back desperately; he was just old enough to have an inkling that today might be the last time he received such a hug.

Tyr darted across the yard to join his family, heart in his throat. Faramund was now up on the edge of the carriage, but his nephew leaned over and Tyr obligingly pulled him into his own hug.

“Love you, Uncle,” Faramund choked out, voice muffled by his face in Tyr’s leathers and another cannon shot exploding just blocks away.

“Love you, too, Far,” Tyr said, pulling back and ruffling his hair, turning to the others as Faramund followed after his mother.

Eydis was right there, head at his chin, and gods, how quickly she had grown. Nearly eighteen and his spitting image: dark brown skin, deep red hair, hawk’s nose and thin lips. But her eyes were the same green as his mother’s rather than Greywolfe gold and right now, they were filling with tears. Even more than her cousin, Eydis knew.

His daughter, his only child, crashed into him, and Tyr could do nothing except hold her as tight as he could as she sobbed into his neck.

“I love you, Papa,” she said. “Please, please…”

“I love you, Eydis,” he said, hoarse with emotion. “You are the best thing I ever helped put into this world. I will always be proud of you.”

Another sob heaved through her and Tyr pressed a kiss to her temple. After long moments, they drew apart; Eydis’s eyes were red-rimmed and still streaming, but a steely determination had descended upon her.

Tyr wiped the tears off her cheeks and held her face in his hands. And then he helped her up into the carriage.

Little Synnove had already been carefully placed into the carriage bed by her father, but she stared up at him with the same huge green eyes his daughter had. Her favorite plush wolf—sewn for her by his mother—was clutched tightly under her arm, but she reached for him with the other. Tyr gathered her close, gentle as always with her even as he made his hug as fierce as possible. With her nanny gone, Synnove had slept the last few nights with himself and Angharad, tucked safely between them and even joined by Eydis as initial clashes between the Corpse Brigade and the Resistance had echoed through the streets. But his niece had always been one of the bright spots of his life and she had always been frightfully smart; her solemnity now would be unusual on any other five-year old.

“Love you very much, Synnove-cub,” he whispered to her. “Be good for your ma and da and aunt.”

“Love you, Unca Tyr,” she lisped, then drew away to be scooped up into Eydis’s arms.

Angharad was next to him now, and Tyr took a moment to drink in the sight of his wife.

Strong shoulders and straight spine and light steps, trained in Gyr Abanian dance, Angharad was grace personified. Her chestnut hair had a few stray greys hiding at the temples and her dark eyes, normally laughing and bright, regarded him now with resigned grief.

His wife reached for him and Tyr took her hands in his, raising them to his lips to kiss the knuckles of the right, then the left, and then Angharad lunged forward.

Their kiss was messy, and desperate, and tasted faintly of the salt that Angharad had cried earlier but refused to let fall now. Twenty years of passion and love and joys and sorrows and mistakes and triumphs; Tyr tried to put it all into the kiss, arms tight around her waist even as her hands stroked through his hair. When they drew apart at last, they rested their foreheads together and stared into one another’s eyes.

“I will love you long after the stars grow cold,” Tyr said to the love of his life.

“And I will love you even when the memory of stars is gone from creation,” Angharad said thickly, finishing the familiar refrain.

Tyr put his hands on her waist and lifted her up into the carriage bed, as easy as when he had lifted her onto the stage for their first dance at their wedding. Angharad cupped his face in her hands, staring at him with the same solemnity has Synnove had as she memorized him. Then she dropped her hands, and stepped backwards to sit at the back and gather up the girls to her.

Walcher had hopped up into the driver’s seat and just in time—dropships roared overhead, and through the estate gate, Tyr saw a group of Resistance fighters pelt full tilt down the street towards the eastern barricades. Walcher slapped the reins, and the kwehing chocobos dutifully began to draw the carriage across the lawn and through the open gates. Tyr, Havardr, and Father followed after, Havardr just a few steps ahead.

Tyr felt eyes on him, and canted his head to the side. Ivar Greywolfe looked at him, golden eyes worn but determined. He flicked his gaze towards his younger son.

Tyr nodded.

As the carriage cleared the gate, Walcher guiding the chocobos to head west, Havardr began to turn east. That was when Tyr and Father grabbed him by either arm, and hauled him towards the carriage.

“No!” Havardr shouted, loud even over the battle raging down the street and throughout the rest of the city, bucking and struggling against their holds. “No, no, don’t you dare make me leave you behind, don’t you dare—”

Tyr managed to wrestled his brother’s arms behind him even as Father let go to grab either side of Havardr’s head. “Someone has to protect the rest of the family!” he yelled, pitching his voice over the explosion of yet another ceruleum cannon. “That’s your job now, Havardr! You have to keep them safe, for me and for Tyr!”

Havardr sobbed as Father pressed a kiss to his forehead. Tyr let him go, and then he and Father were engulfing his brother into a fierce three-way hug. Havardr clutched at them, hands scrabbling for purchase on their leathers, gasping out, “I love you I love you I’m sorry I love you—”

“Love you, too, brother mine,” Tyr said. And then he and Father picked Havardr up and threw him into the carriage.

“Walcher, GO!” Father roared, turning to bolt down the street to shore up the defensive line at the end of the street. Tyr ran after him, drawing his swords as he did.

One of the mages had brought down one of the buildings to create a barricade, but Garlean reapers had joined the fray and their cannons were making quick, awful work of the stone. Bladedancers clashed with conscripts, swords clanking loudly against shields, knuckledancers wove through the melee to disable enemy combatants, a firedancer was standing atop the rubble to aim her destructive magicks at the backlines of the advancing enemy. Tyr and his father crashed into the Garleans, swords sweeping through their foes and blood flowing. They hadn’t been with the Resistance when they stormed the palace, their job to put down any Corpse Brigade curs should they begin attacking civilians in the city, and thus they were fresh, their stamina still high.

The heavy whirr of machina echoed down the street, and another reaper fired its cannon. The blast partially hit both the downed building and the street, and for a moment, Ala Mhigans and Garleans alike were unbalanced as the force of the blast shook the block. Tyr reached out to stabilize his father, eyes forward, and saw one of the backline officers raise their gunblade—

Tyr Greywolfe never felt the bullet.

[lazulisocinfodump]

Oc ask thing !!

1. Rona

30. Sec

17. Arlee

7. Arlee, Sec, Clione

6. Rona, Clione

Oh dang that’s a lot. This is gonna be fun thankyou Voyagr :D

(Genuinely, I was feeling crappy and this ask is just what I needed thankyou so much)

Buckle in, This is a long one.

1. Rona - Do they sleep with a stuffed animal? If they have multiple, who’s the favorite?

Lol of course she does. She rotates between her toys because she doesn’t want anyone left out. Unfortunately her favorite toy is a big orange transformer-esque robot. Not exactly pleasant to sleep cuddle with. She tried still because she felt bad that he got left out but it was just too uncomfy. So to make up for it she makes him his own little bed out of spare pillows and such every night for him to sleep on.

30. Sec - What would they do if they knew it would be forgiven?

Ask Kinito to take her inside the computer and love her. Yes this counts for Adminverse AND Abandonware verse. After all, that forgiveness includes her being able to forgive herself.

17. Arlee - Do they like children?

Yes. Granted, she doesn’t like looking after them. She does not have the patience to deal with them long-term. But she does like playing with them, and they tend to like playing with her because shes so high energy and honestly kinda whacky. She’s happy to act silly for kids to get them to laugh. Very “cool older cousin” energy. Arlee also finds sassy kids, or the ones who bluntly state the things adults won’t, hilarious.

Hurt a kid on her watch and you will end up with a black eye at best.

Really the only reason I have not got her interacting with Rona in Electric Dissonance is it would quickly be me talking to myself on the blog a lot. I can’t let her get attached guys it would derail so much! Watsonian explanation is that shes tunnel visoned on poking the bear and helping out Sam.

7. Arlee, Sec, Clione -Describe them in three words. Now let them describe themself in three words.

Arlee: Impulsive, Egotistical and Sassy

Arlee, on herself: Funny, Smart and an A**hole

Sec: Compassionate, Self-absorbed, Lonely

Sec, on herself: Self-absorbed, Geeky, Ineffectual

Clione: Insensitive, Insightful and Authentic

Clione, on herself: Introspective, Analytical, Misunderstood

6. Rona, Clione - Who will they take advice from, no matter what it is? Who won’t they take advice from, no matter what it is?

Rona thinks a lot of Miss Evans, her tutor. Because she is an adult who spends a lot of positive time with her and listens to her. She considers Miss Evans to be the smartest person she knows, so takes what she says seriously. To a lesser degree, this applies to Rona’s Aunt Karen. After all, no kid listens to what their parent says 100% of the time XD.

If Rona considers someone a bully, then she has no respect for what they might think. In fact, she thinks they should all listen to her advice! She clearly knows better! She stays polite because both Miss Evans and Aunt Karen gave her a dressing down after she started getting a bit actively nasty towards “bullies “rather than just sticking up for kids when needed. She doesn’t want to become like them, does she?

Clione… doesn’t really trust anyone that much. Not even herself. After all, she knows how easily her own internal bias, feelings and unconscious thoughts can cloud her judgement. And if she is like that and aware of it and still constantly makes mistakes, how much more other people who don’t think about these sorts of things? So there is nobody who she would listen to fully without questioning them ever.

But on the flip side, there is nobody she is 100% dismissive of. Everyone has a unique view and that means everyone has at least one thing they can see that nobody else can. Nobody is 100% wrong or right. Everyone has something they can teach you. And there is something in you that you can teach everyone else.

Granted, Clione will absolutely consider her own opinion first and foremost the majority of the time!

[korkietism]

I created this piece for truth and reconciliation day though it became a great opportunity for me to explore cultural customs of both mine and other indigenous cultures and brought me peace. The sentiment online regarding that day was rancid. I did not realize there were deniers of my families experience. This piece was made with strength and I hope I conveyed that. Im able to create art like this because of my family who lived in spite of their horrid situations. They were warriors.

Onto the nerd jargon…

From left to right=

Chihiro Mizushima, Ichiro Mizushima (the child), Saeran Mizushima/Sedna, Charlotte Nightingale/North Star, Faramund Wylie-Nightingale, Sage Nightingale, Milena Nightingale, Wyborn Wylie Nightingale, Duke Marrock, Moira Marrock-Nightingale, Orion Marrock (baby) and finally Ylva Marrock

This was an exploration of North Stars home life/life outside of Tokoyami. Her sibling and dad died in the incident tm and is how she got her scars. Her mother is Russian and where she gets her accent. North is the oldest of the four with Moira as the youngest. Moira is also the only one with children. The Nightingale bloodline continues due to her.

On the left I just had to illustrate Saeran/Sedna and Chihiro just so that I could draw baby Ichiro. Though I should have drawn this in a specific timeline… oh well.. it is random and baby Ichiro (kinda… he’s like 6-8)

I hope this piece could capture the love in my heart for mine and other cultures as well as my love for North Star and her lore. The silly ever + her little bird sidekick Tokoyami I love them. I wanted to include Tokoyami in this piece but it was already massive and overwhelming lmao.

[lazulisocinfodump]

O MY GOSH I LOVE THIIISSSSSSSSSS AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

The way you drew Rona is perfect! Pretty much exactly how I imagine her. And how did you guess the EXACT sort of game she would like to play!? She loves playing pretend games of adventure and cool swords and heroes and stuff. And Kinito looks like he is enjoying himself, it's so sweet awwwwwww!

And. Sonny. Forced into a silly Chrismas hat while Firecracker points and laughs. Perfect. Fanatic. Wonderful. I love it. I bet if Sonny ever sleeps he'd a nightmare resembling this scenario lolololololol.

I like Sam here too, the sort of weary, faraway look in his eyes. He just seems so... tired.

Also Sonny violence. Fun! I'm not 100% certain who the person with the axe is but they look so cool and determined and ready to throw down. Awesome.

I love your art so much Voyagr, seeing any of my characters done in your style is always such a treat!

okayyyy

@cyber-crustacean @lazuli-starlightsecuritypuppet @wolftheidioticfan @virus-leo

[sculptorofcrimson]

Commorragh’s Arenas

Synopsis: Just brainrot I had. (: 

Just torturing my OCs.

Warnings: Very, very vivid gore

Kyraraq of the Cult of Last Waltz, Champion of Seventy-Seven victories, the Daughter of the Dancing Delight, she perishes then. She effortlessly weaves beneath his first blow, and laughs at him, her voice beautiful and lilting. Then his second blow crunches down, and she sees the fist enlarging, its knuckles monstrous and ceramite-plated, she feels it slam and snap her face to the side, hitting her just beneath the cheekbone. The flesh splits to the side from the sheer force, her slender neck snapping back like a reed in a storm. Her skull splinters in five places, jabbing in bone shards into the soft tissue of her brain. She reels, her graceful leap disrupted as Faramund thrashes her like a ragdoll, crushing her bones with one hand and pummeling her with the other. He aims for her face, her beautiful, broken face. The fist smashes into her jaw - reducing her teeth to powder - it clips her neck and nails into her stomach. She convulses in mid-air, no longer dancing, no longer so beautiful beneath all the savagery. One, two, three more blows and a backhand from Faramund sends her flying, her teeth cracking like fibers as her slender form spasms from the sheer force. For a moment she is sailing like a crippled bird through the air, suspended in the altered gravity of the obsidian arena, and then she is crumpling against its far wall, her body ragdolling past the barbed spikes lining the curved arena walls. 

She gargles, choking in blood and fluid and tries to crawl for her weapon. She cannot. A massive boot crunches down upon her fingerbones as she twitches, one ceramite hand curling into a hateful fist and crushing against her sternum, hurling her delicate form again. She skids against the bone-white walls, painting a trail of blood against the blades, hearing herself die to the cheers and boos of the crowd, feeling the grating of broken bones crumbling within her. She dies sometime between this blow and the next, her brain whipping back and forth inside a shattered skull like a ragged piece of meat, dying before Faramund’s boot stomps on her beautiful, broken face with vengeful abaddon, pressing down with crushing force before dragging the heel across the remnants of her snapped throat and spine. The Blood Angel stomps on her body one last time before kicking it aside, the pulverized flesh of her face having been reduced to a sluggish, red paste with jutting cheekbones and a grinning, bared smile full of broken teeth, eyelids slack over hollow sockets.

He stands, bloodied, lips drawn over a thin, humorless grin. The Blood Angel’s emblem was all but covered by gristle now. He absently wipes it aside, revealing the wings, smiling to seemingly no one but himself.

Rest easy, my brothers. I have avenged you.

“I am Faramund Raith, Captain of the Blood Angels, son of Sanguinius. And in the name of the Emperor and Sanguinius, I will not die today!” He shouts, and raises the crushed, mangled corpse of the gladiator before his head. He laughs with wild, murderous joy. He can taste blood in his mouth and rage in his mind. Rage, black and beautiful and hungry. “Bring me your soldiers, pitiful spawn! Bring your servants, bring your kin and bring your brethren! And I will kill them all, I will kill them in honor, in blood, in Sanguinius, in our father’s name, and I will live tonight!"

They were cheering. By Sanguinius’ wings, he had just killed one of their gladiators in blood and brutality, and they were cheering. He could hear the Archon laugh, her voice sharp and musical, her withered form invigorated by the carnage as she leaned forwards, like a slobbering hound towards a meal, itching to not forget even a single second of this carnage. He could see the inky sclera of her eyes, her pupils black and dilated and full of that rampant, murderous joy. 

“FOR I AM FARAMUND RAITH,” Faramund roars, and he hurls the corpse in his hand. It splatters against the walls, and he hears the Archon yip in sharp, vicious amusement. “I AM A SON OF SANGUINIUS, AND I WILL NOT DIE TODAY!”

His words were greedily taken, drowned out, and celebrated by the delighted roar of the crowd. 

[mechanicalmechanism]

IDPack 〜 Tomura Shigaraki ✦

( Warnings for the following . . . blood , gore , murder , death )

꒰NAMES꒱ 〜 Aemilius , Almund , Ammiras , Amon , Ansel , Anselm , Anselmo , Anubis , Apollyon , Arius , Asmund , Athanasius , Atol , Atreus , Atreyus , Atrophy , Balor , Baltazar , Balthasar , Balthazar , Blight , Blighte , Casimir , Casimiro , Charon , Church , Coven , Decay , Doyle , Efe , Egesa , Eldrige , Ellender , Emiel , Emil , Emerence , Emerentine , Emerentius , Emereo , Emeric , Enzi , Eunan , Faramond , Faramund , Faron , Fingal , Fulco , Ira , Irie , Kazimierz , Kazimir , Kazmer , Khalida , Khal , Kuno , Leofric , Letum , Leviathan , Mal , Malice , Mallory , Malthe , Manibus , Merger , Miel , Monte , Montgomery , Mora , Morana , Mortem , Mortis , Mortimer , Mourn , Mourner , Nemesis , Nev , Newell , Orhan , Osiris , Oswald , Oz , Pastor , Perses , Perseus , Pharamond , Proserpine , Prosper , Renard , Reynard , Roric , Rory , Rot , Rust , Serdar , Shig , Sin , Sinister , Sovereign , Styx , Ulric , Vestige , Voss , Wane , Wither , Wolfric , Wulfric , Wyther

꒰PRONOUNS꒱ 〜 De/Decays , Rot/Rots , Vil/Villains , Fear/Fears , Scratch/Scratches , Order/Orders , It/Its , Thing/Things , Molt/Molts , Vis/Vis'/Visage/Visages , Gore/Gores , Kill/Kills , Hurt/Hurts , One/Ones , Power/Powers , Hor/Horrors , Cor/Corrupts , Being/Beings , Hate/Hates , Scar/Scars , Vis/Viscera/Visceras , Void/Voids , Suf/Suffers , Warp/Warps , Twist/Twists , Mal/Mals , Epithet/Epithets , Sin/Sins , Sinister/Sinisters , Stare/Stares , (

꒰TITLES꒱ 〜 Holder of One For All , He Who Hates All * , Enemy of the World , Collector of Hands , He Who Destroys * , He Who Yearns to Destroy * , ( The ) Symbol of Fear , Grand Commander , His Immortality * , He Who is Ambiguously Human * , Vestige of the Monarch , ( The ) Chosen One , ( The ) Antichrist , Your Villain , Hated by All , His Omnicidal Presence * , Omnicidal Maniac , Ruler of All Villains , Thou With a Thirst for Violence * , Transcendent One , The Berserker , ( The ) Dark Messiah , He Who Has Risen from the Dead * , ( The ) Blood Knight , Hands of Flesh and Blood , (The ) Mass of Hands and Flesh , He Who Has Been Reborn * , The Next One For All , ( The ) Monarch With Clipped Wings , He Who Has Shed His Past Self * , ( The ) Cosmic Plaything , ( The ) Plaything of the Cosmos , ( The ) Misanthrope Supreme , Death of a Thousand Cuts , The Merger , Heart of Malice / Sin , He Whose Heart Rots * , The Dreaded , He Who Cannot Comprehend Good * , Eviler than Thou , The Faceless , Humanoid Abomination , Parasite of Power , He Who Resents * , His Grotesque Assemblage * , His Unwitting Pawn * ( Any Title with * next to it includes a pronoun that can be changed and all titles can be adjusted two your liking . . . ! )

꒰TERMS꒱ 〜 Antagogender , Bodyhorroric , Corruptbeing , Crucifixic , Deadantag , Decaytemasc , Decayvoidic , Denigrafacieic , Evilembodiment , Fearix , Fleshbutterflyix , Genderdark , Genderdecay , Hatebeing , Humanish , Mortemvitic , Obsessrotic , Offhuman , Pasrian , Putregender , Ragebodiment , Rivonia , Scargender , Villaithing , Viscerarian , Voidinwatchic

[serpentarii]

WTW CHARACTER WEEK ; DAY FOUR - ANTAGONISTS

In the world of Mordlust, though teeming with all manner of strange beast and ancient magic, oftentimes the most dangerous breed is humanity and the religious fervor it thrives off. In the year 763, a naif, young Helemar is born to a handler that has managed to twist the threads of fate in his favor.

cardinal archbishop faramund ; minister to the king and a member of his privy council. he has spent more than half his life within the church in service to the savior. arguably the most powerful man in the kingdom, he knows well to keep the criminal underground and the press in his pockets.

Aleksander Fox's chance at unending fortune comes when he steals and sells the feathered cloak of the Swan Prince. It falls into the hands of Vératre, an assassin hired to kill the head of the Helemere Church, all while working against a painful ghost from her past. 

T A G L I S T

{ send an ask to be +/- } 

@seasteading | @veneritia | @sourrcandy | @arkicts | @redrcbin | @behel1ts | @darkgazer | @inky-duchess | @kaatiba | @writeblrfantasy | @wildswrites | @morganwriteblr | @frvnwrites | @bayoucurse | @caradhraas | @nallthatjazz | @ladywithalamp | @cannivalisms | @muddshadow | @sylhorn | @mortallynuttyqueen | @halcionic

[lazulisocinfodump]

Sorry it took so long for me to get to this but hey I love this! Thankyou for doing this, Jaxy!

And Sorry Jaxy! long post reply incoming :P

To Start: me as a Rogue of Heart? Well the rogue outfit is probably my fave one. I get classpect buddies with Nepeta! <3

Lets see, from memory I think this classpect basically translates to 'one who takes Self/Soul to give to others'. Interesting! I personally have usually seen myself as a heart player (though occasionally I wonder if I lean closer to Space or Hope). I like to explore my own psyche and "self" and its different facets. And gaining understanding of myself is something I use to help me in turn better understand others.

Usually I Classpect myself as a Sylph of Heart. I have the sylph’s tendency to meddle and fuss lol. But Rouge of Heart kinda fits too? Hmmmmm…….

----------------

Firecracker as an Heir of Rage or Thief of Rage? Yeah, while I tend to associate versions of Arlee with the Light aspect, I can see Firecracker working as a Rage player as well. It *does* suit her. She has that rage player willpower. And willingness to tear things down if she thinks they need it, consequences be fecked. However, while she has the Thief’s selfishness I don’t think it works with the rage aspect for her. She does not take the rage or will of others, she incites it!

Heir of Rage could work? But while she does have a bit of a wrathful side to her, it isn’t her wrath that defines her. It’s a combination of her Ego and her unending desire for entertainment.

I actually think if we are giving the rage aspect to Firecracker, Witch of Rage or Mage of Rage could work. She has a more understanding of the concepts related to the Rage aspect than other versions of Arlee. She is the only one so far who has really taken the time to have a good look at herself as a person. And that understanding is what lets her see in Sonny the things that would make him angry because she knows those things in herself. Other versions of Arlee would still be able to make him mad, but not in such a personal way.

------------------------

Page of Breath is pretty spot on for Rona. She does not have the Page’s usual lack of confidence. But it fits really well otherwise. She is a seed busting with potential, but still needs lots of time and nurturing to reach it because she is so very young. It’s a good thing that she is so loved.

And Rona is 100% a Breath player. She lives to explore. She follows her own path (as much as a child as young as her can, anyway). And among other kids she does naturally fall into a leadership role. As well as unfortunately suffering somewhat from the Breath player’s tendacy towards being isolated.

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Lol thanks for giving me an opportunity to ramble Jaxy, sorry not sorry you got caught in the trap lolololololol

Heeeeyyyy. Jaxy. Plz. If you like. Classpect me. Even if I have my own idea of my classpect it is always so, so interesting to see how other people might see differently.

Also, would you do Firecracker and Rona? If you want? :3

GI FHIS TOOK ME A MONENT, do tell me if you these would fit you or your characters :3

id assign you Rogue of Heart :3, i feel you match very well to one

Firecracker reminds me of an Heir of Rage or Thief of Rage

Rona is a Page of Breath :3

[hlootooart]

The way you draw the baron, Herzog Faramund, hope i'm spelling that right, I love it. The vibes are amazing and the presence is immaculate. Also really like his hat, i'm a sucker for big hats with feathers. (And hey if you ever need a jester 👀)

Thank you! He really is fun to draw. Btw, “Herzog “ is just the title. It’s a German one synonymous with the English “duke”. At least, for now. I’m still working on the whole power dynamics and kingdom relationships right now. :P

[liminals-space]

fella

[nextinline-if]

I don't know if you're still answering asks or anything but going through some of the asks has me thinking of so many questions lol these are all from the perspective of ex-lover F

how would F react with hurt MC confronting them with "I'm not just going to be your second choice! I deserve better than that. You left me for someone else, I honestly doubt you ever even loved me." before storming of with tears rolling down their face and I guess maybe F realizing they might have completely fucked everything up with MC?

Also does F consider how much bringing up their spouse in front of MC hurts MC and makes it feel like they got left behind for someone else?

And oh man knowing F slept with Lucille is kinda like a gut punch oof, When playing the game I assumed they married as friends and with F having feelings for MC that meant they didn't have sex but it being confirmed on here is like daaaaaamn like F you didn't just break my heart you fucking destroyed it, What are Fs' feelings on this matter if this is how MC felt? (especially it being it hurt the MC cause they ran off and slept with someone else while the MC loved them like MC is not bothered by anyone else's body count cause you know they weren't in love with them and didn't have shared feelings, its more the betrayal of trust causing this hurt. Like if F had given a proper goodbye and a proper rejection of MC feelings/breakup it wouldn't be as painful for MC, I guess my main point still being is how does F feel about an MC hurt they slept with Lucille?)

and I wanted to ask is if Percival was still around and since he was the one who invited Felix and F back how would he feel seeing at how hurt the MC is to the return of F or just seeing the MC even more heartbroken being around F?

oh one more angst question that applies personally to my MC and F, I play as Trans man MC who is exes with Fredrick just a scenario of my MC with his head down asking Fredrick "Is it because of how I am.......is that why you had to find someone else?" (I'm a trans man so I love getting to play characters true to me so thank you)

Sorry for the ramble lol I hope this ask wasn't too much or weird, I don't think I have ever sent an ask this long before to anyone lol but your IF is very fun and inspiring so thank you! ಥ_ಥ

hi anonymous! I have been on here in a while so I no clue when you sent this I'm sorry about that :) I didn't answer everything but hopefully this is sufficient.

how would F react with hurt MC confronting them with "I'm not just going to be your second choice! I deserve better than that. You left me for someone else, I honestly doubt you ever even loved me." before storming of with tears rolling down their face and I guess maybe F realizing they might have completely fucked everything up with MC?

F is frozen in place, their throat caught in their throat. Not from the shock of your words but from the shock of realizing just how badly they fucked up. From realizing that the little sliver of hope that was blossoming in their bosom may very well be snuffed out.

I guess my main point still being is how does F feel about an MC hurt they slept with Lucille?

This is complicated to answer, to be honest. I've answered A LOT of asks on this blog so it's been quite a while since I stated this but F slept with Lucille and did not enjoy it and really only did it for "duty". F would absolutely understand why MC would be hurt by them sleeping with Lucille but they know that they can't go back and fix that (or the other mistakes).

and I wanted to ask is if Percival was still around and since he was the one who invited Felix and F back how would he feel seeing at how hurt the MC is to the return of F or just seeing the MC even more heartbroken being around F?

If Percival were still around, he would be upset that MC is suffering. However, the fatherly & kingly part of him that carries wisdom would tell MC how important it is to face the things that break us with courage. MC deserves closure of some kind. That may be moving forward with F. It may not be. Percival would support MC but also encourage them to face their demons.

oh one more angst question that applies personally to my MC and F, I play as Trans man MC who is exes with Fredrick just a scenario of my MC with his head down asking Fredrick "Is it because of how I am.......is that why you had to find someone else?" (I'm a trans man so I love getting to play characters true to me so thank you)

I can only imagine the gut punch for your MC!

F falls to their knees, your hand in theirs, their eyes searching yours. "I'm an idiot, MC," they whisper, their voice soft and broken, haggard F places a tentative and soft kiss on your hand, "Let me spend every day showing you that my leaving has to do with how stupid I am and not because of you. Never because of you," F begs softly, gazing up at you.

Sorry for the ramble lol I hope this ask wasn't too much or weird, I don't think I have ever sent an ask this long before to anyone lol but your IF is very fun and inspiring so thank you! ಥ_ಥ

Please don't apologize. Your ask meant so much to me. And you playing my IF means so much to me. Thank you!

-Vi

[symskellet]

These peole are not on Tumblr so for convinience I'm gonna bundle them

In order :

-Vempyremon - Faramund

Vempyremon - Faramund

Aspiring_EGG - Spoon

Yaz - Nova

Bloodruined - Anion

Kokoika_koi - //EVE//

that_one_waff - Osiah

Chilling_in_a_box - Knight

Futylofazek - Maka

[lazulisocinfodump]

So, this character here was a big inspiration for Rona. Her name is Dazzle Deer and she is a character from the Sun and moon Show and the Lunar and Earth Show (She is actually a the ghost of a little girl named Evelyn possessing an animatroic custom made for her to do so. The Sun and Moon Show is crazy in the best way)