#sorry aymeric

[tallbluelady]

mfw a guy wears a veil

[ubejamjar]

Save me Ser Ophelie, carry me off into the sunset Ser Ophelie

[kaitontenchu]

2025 - Year of the Snake

[kaytayto]

very late estimeric week contribution, but i had too much fun drawing hair. this was for reunion? i think? the vibe is them pining for each other and then finally confessing post EW. i need this in my life constantly thanks

[privateolives]

This moment from my playthrough keeps coming up with friends, so why don't I share the time I accidentally did Aymeric so dirty with my outfit choice for the dinner scene.

So for those of you not aware, my WoL is supposed to be a sweet Thanalan country boy type. Think desert Clark Kent-vibes man but from the burning cliffsides of Thanalan instead of Kansas. And I play a paladin besides, so of course my mildmannered Lambard went through most of Heavensward looking like this:

Covered head beard to toe in steel.

But of course, when Aymeric finally invites you do dinner, that won't do. Showing up in armor would just be impolite! So I pull my ff14 bestie in for an emergency glam sesh trying to figure out what a traditional thanalan lad might wear to a fancy occasion. We end up putting this together, which I was quite pleased with!

Straight Oughtta Ul'dah looking outfit. Looks good right? It's fancy! It's traditional! It's in-character! It's just perfect.

Bit chilly for the road there, so we figure he would have used the supplied Ishgardian coat on the way there. (I didn't get a screencap of that in time sorry)

So I slam the glam on just before the cutscene and go in happily unaware of what I'm about to do to this poor catholic boy and he greets us in a similar coat to what we got... as indoor wear. Which really should have been our first warning of what was to come.

Anyway, we come in and if you, unlike myself, are a nice, observant allosexual, you might already spot the problem.

Because as it turns out, Lambard's beautiful Ul'dahn coat has one major issue when being sat at this type of dinner table.

That being that between the coat and the table, there is now a perfectly triangular window towards the BIGGEST, FATTEST pair of sword-swinging steel-carrying hobby-mining sun-kissed pair of tits to ever grace the frozen lands of Ishgard.

Keep in mind that our poor Aymeric hasn't been lord speaker for long at this point, he's yet to leave Coerthas completely (as far as we know) on any diplomatic missions. He was recently still the knight-commander, polite son of the Pope, from the isolated lands of French Warrior Catholicism, who's grown up and only ever seen tall spindly Elezen people, wearing 50 layers in -oof° degrees celsius weather all day every day every month whole year.

EDIT: It had, in fact, only been 5 years of -WillToLive° outside, thank you @maeljade

And now he's sitting at a private dinner, doomed to look at THIS

for several hours whilst his elderly butler, last remnants of family he has, hovers about the whole time serving that appears to be unseemly amounts of wine

And I took

SEVERAL

HOURS

after the cutscene to realize what I'd done to this poor man.

... Though in my defence, my ace ass was busy laughing my head off at the reaction they give your WoL to the butler mixing you a cocktail.

[starrysnowdrop]

Happy Moonfire Faire 2024!

From Hali and Aymeric

Psst… Feat: The Cornservant 🌽

[koukouture]

No bc Haurchefant and Aymeric childhood friends has me crazy like those two would relate to each other and find solace in the other so much. Like they’re both bastard children who are ostracized by Ishgard’s nobility they would get along so well and find a safe space in the other. In my mind that is why it’s Aymeric propping Haurchefant up as he dies bc they’re close friends.

Anyways this is my personal head canon lmao I do wish we got to see Aymeric and Haurche interact more

[golmorehotgirl]

obsessed with giving him glasses tbh

[daggerbeanart]

*emerges from cave*

I’ve been playing FFXIV 💜

so this is not really a wip wednesday/whenever, but I’ve seen you tag me @layalu @greypetrel @melisusthewee @plisuu and this is the first stuff I’ve drawn in like 2 months so I’m tagging you back and also @ndostairlyrium & @shivunin <3

[lilbittymonster]

D2

There was a brief summer when Estinien was still a good head taller than Aymeric.

Thank you for the ask @raynshyu

[kar1nsworldx]

LOOK AT ALL THE HOT MEN OH MY FUCKING GOD

[wyrmwright]

aymeric de borel

[parallelkozak]

there is a romantic comedy side quest in heavensward that only exists in my mind btw

[keicordelle]

After Estinien gets his body back from Nidhogg, he finds himself changed. Always a little surprised to uncover the differences. Most of them are benign: a few scales in places they don't belong (as though they belong anywhere), a few barbs in places not worth mentioning, a sense of smell and hearing that far outpaces his comrades'. And a weakened immune system (or so he thinks).

Years of thinking he just gets horribly, terribly sick for a few weeks out of every year - a peculiar kind of sickness, to be sure, that leaves him flushed and sweaty and aching in places that the common cold usually leaves untouched, but undoubtedly, unquestioningly ill.

The first one strikes while he's still in Ishgard, recovering from being possessed, and suddenly every part of him feels like it's on fire again. The healers can't do anything for him, but they refuse to allow Aymeric to see him until he's recovered.

And then he leaves, off to wander the world, and suffers his new chronic illness alone for untold moons. He's accepted it as routine by the time he makes his way back to Ishgard.

And yet the instant he catches a whiff of Aymeric's scent, familiar despite the years spent apart, he feels himself falling ill. Curses his luck and his shitty immune system for its timing, but pushes through. He wants to at least greet Aymeric before hiding himself away for a week of suffering. But he can scarcely make it through dinner before he's forced to retreat, panting and fevered and aching.

Except that this time there's no chirugians to keep Aymeric away. He shows up on Estinien's doorstep the following day, worried for his old friend. Estinien tries to stop himself from what comes next, he really does, but... it's a battle he's destined to lose.

And to his astonishment, Aymeric is more than willing to do whatever it takes to help him feel better. Whatever it takes.

[shiratamako]

Hi!!! 👋 I was hoping that you could write a snippet from Aymeric’s POV about your girl! 🥰

Flesh and Blood

882 Words, Pining and Heavy Angst Set after As Goes Light, So Goes Darkness Heavensward Patch 3.1

The Warrior of Light had been unnaturally quiet after rescuing the hostages from the basilica. The scream of a child being thrown from the height of the spires still rang in Aymeric’s ears, even if Vidofnir rescued the blameless girl. Dressed in blackest coat, she was always close to him, trying her best to keep up with his pace. She gave her benediction to restore his vitality, yet she could still not offer a smile or cheer on the events that should be cause for celebration.

When Count Edmont said that he saw much of Haurchefant in him, that was when he heard the White Mage give a strangled gasp, her mouth twisted in silent anguish. Her eyes glistened as she stymied her grief, her eyes narrowing to prevent the flow of tears. The staff in her hand trembled as she struggled to hold it.

Without warning, she took off, leaving the Scions and the crowd unceremoniously as she hurried down the steps. He looked to Lucia and gave a nod. He would see to her safety himself, descending the stairs swiftly after her.

“Shira!” he called out her name instinctively as she headed in the direction of the cathedral. Aymeric caught up to her. He approached her, trying to make his presence small rather than to seem as though he was hunting her down. Her gaze was downcast as she refused to look at him.

He wished to reach a hand out to her. He wished he was closer.

He wished he was Haurchefant.

As Aymeric, he felt like he could do nothing. He was utterly powerless before her unalloyed pain.

Aymeric made his voice exceedingly soft, speaking through his throat in barely above a murmur. All consonants lost their harshness, fading into sumptuous whispers with a faint, warm rasp like a crackle in a hearth.

“Was it Lord Edmont’s words? I know you grieve still,”

She shook her head fervently, denying it. He knew there was no cause to deny it. He knew Shira would have been truthful — after all, Haurchefant came to him one night, announcing of his happy decision. The Silver Fuller spoke of the promise that he would be engaged to Shira. He wanted to protect her smile, to cherish all their happy days together.

For that, Haurchefant needed a ring and a suitable goldsmith to create an oath given form. That was why he went to Aymeric for assistance in recommending the finest artisan in all of Ishgard. Even though Haurchefant was unable to fulfil his promise to her, Shira still wore the ring on her left ring finger.

Aymeric spoke again, as sensitively as he could. “Please, Shira. I want to know what troubles you so,”

Her voice was small and faint, choked out by her tears. “I saw a vision. An echo…”

She finally raised her eyes to meet his; her soft oceanic blues. The shadow of the cathedral created an annular glow around her irises.

“I— I could not save you in time, when you fight still wounded,” She spoked her hushed, diffused oracle of the ill portent she saw, afraid and breathless. “You fell, even when I fought my hardest to protect you. I could not bear… to see you fall.”

The tears fell down her cheeks, and his heart split in twain at her sincerity, her compassion for him. He offered Shira a grateful smile. Few reminded him of his mortality, that he too, was a man that was flesh and blood. Even in the past few days he carried on despite his wounds, as though he could not fall for his duty to witness a new era.

“Rest assured I am safe, in no small part thanks to you.”

He tenderly wiped a tear away with his thumb. He soon realised the gravity of his mistake when her eyes widened in terror, her breath seizing up at his touch as she drew away from him. He rescinded his hand immediately with regret at what he had done.

“Forgive my presumptuousness, I… only wished to dry your tears,”

He cursed his momentary lapse in judgment, though he refrained from showing it on his face. He felt himself so callow to think himself as a fairy tale knight. She was not a child in need of succor; he could not simply just wipe away her every tear with kind words.

Shira quelled her own disquiet, her breaths shaky as she wiped tears from her cheeks. She looked to Aymeric, though she could never meet his gaze.

“I understand, Ser Aymeric. Thank you regardless,” Hiding her own torment, her weak voice was stiff and invariant in tone. “Please excuse me. I think Lord Artoirel will be expecting me at Fortemps Manor.”

She bowed to him, overtly distant and formal in her parting. She walked over the bridge to the Last Vigil with hurried steps. As her form grew smaller on the horizon, Aymeric was left alone in the cold shadow of the cathedral.

“Fury, strike me down,” Aymeric rasped in his solitude. He curled his hand to his chest as he offered both a prayer and confession. For he too, was a man of flesh and blood and no better than any other.

“If I cannot give her peace, grant her your mercy.”

[artilaz]

🔆 The future of the Sword Coast 🗡️

Nineteen years after the fall of the Absolute, it's time a new portrait is painted on the Ravengard estate, to immortalize the four young dukes and duchesses that have since been born to Grand Duke Wyll and his lovely wife, Lady Lythia.

From left to right: Isabelle Francesca (15), Ophelia Ilaria (10), Eirvin Aozhan (12), and Aymeric Ulder Ravengard (17), all of them the pride and joy of their parents and grandfathers alike.

Illustrated by the wonderful @nonalillie. Thank you so very much, it's been a pleasure to work with you as always! 💗