#though I write adventurer zenos- or at least this point in time for him before DT as him being a bit more reflective and way more reserved

[fatedroses]

Adventurer Zenos and G'raha cause I had to draw my silly guys. I just enjoy the idea of Zenos hanging out with fellow bookworms and being begrudgingly (though occasionally willingly) helpful.

[jenovahh]

I have a Zenos request for the drabble. How would Zenos react to the Warrior of light beging gentle with him the first time. Could be sfw or nsfw, if you wish (Also you writing and blog gives me life. )

To love a Garlean Prince, is to flirt with danger, in a way.

Or, loving this one at least.

For how possessive he is, how aloof and standoffish, at his core you can see a man who has never known love. A man with an absent father and a deceased mother. Emotions all but groomed out of him, to make way for cold, calculating thoughts to rule an empire.

So it is with that in mind you slowly begin to tame the beast before you.

It starts out with simply reaching out, the first few tries ending with his reflexes moving him just out of reach, a bored and questioning look thrown your way. Voicing your wishes doesn’t seem the best way to go, so you think that perhaps a display might get your point across. 

When you visit the Scions you bring in a slightly older, slighty confused Alphinaud into your arms, laying your head on your chest as he’s finally hit the growth spurt for his race. His arms return your embrace, slowly yet with acceptance, though you detect a hint of fear as the two of you glance at the stoic prince across the way. Pressing your luck you link your arm with Alphinaud’s, urging him to tell you about his adventures as the two of you stroll away.

Later that night you find yourself pulled in by strong arms, firm but unsure, holding you close more possessively than anything. Zenos says nothing, arms loosely around you once you’re in his lap. Smiling, you make yourself comfortable, wrapping your arms around his midsection and leaning your head against broad, muscle chest. You can feel him shift to look down at you, equal parts curious and confused, but unwilling to voice either emotion. Instead, he acts, returning the pressure gradually, until you let out a squeak of pain from being held too tight.

From there it’s attempts at handholding, at soft, chaste kisses, of being held close while you sleep. You know that Zenos is more than capable of using his words, but in those moments where he seems lost on how to proceed at your careful handling of him, he chooses to remain silent. He has still yet to make a move on his own, studiously watching you as you take the initiative every time, as if he is learning, creating a strategy.

He only speaks when your skin is flushed, him deep inside you, your moans making him drive harder, deeper. Your nights together are usually frenzied, rough as he fucks you into submission beneath him, his name a muddled cry on your lips. But tonight you muster the strength to flip him over, to ride him nice and slow as your hands caress his body. He seems stunned for the moment, not used to you taking the lead, but his eyes are fixated on you all the same as you prolong your mutual pleasure, those blue eyes catching the pure love in your own, hear how longingly you moan his name as you roll your hips.

He flips you beneath you once more, maintaining his pace, eyes focusing on you, only you, as he reaches deep inside. Your legs wrap around his hips, his hands holding yours as he cages your body below his. You gasp as he leans his head against your own, a shuddering moan leaving his lips, eyes closed as you realize the intimacy of that one action. “I see now.” he breathes, eyes still closed as you become the center of his focus through his third eye, his hips moving to angle to your core that has you crying out his name against his lips. 

“Please,” you beg, but he only shakes his head slightly, lips parted as he continues that slow pace, holding you gently against him as he continues to rock into you.                         

[homespork-review]

Homespork Act 1: The Note Dawdling Tension Plays (Part 1)

A young man stands in his bedroom. It just so happens that today, the 13th of April, 2009, is this young man's birthday. Though it was thirteen years ago he was given life, it is only today he will be given a name!

CHEL: Here we see the first page, and are introduced to our protagonist, ZOOSMELL POOPLORD! Sorry, I mean John Egbert. The joke names used as a running gag, and also the actual names which end up applied to the characters, were the suggestions of the players of the original forum game.

BRIGHT: Homestuck does start out strongly in several ways. It immediately establishes the protagonist and location. It sets the tone it will use, one based heavily on a text adventure computer game. It introduces the reader to the inventory system...

And here the first feature of Homestuck becomes apparent: although a hugely popular and widely known webcomic, it is very slow to get going. The new reader who arrives on the recommendation of others ends up scratching their head and wondering if they’re in the right place.

TIER: In ancient times (so somewhere in 2014/15) I actually attempted to read Homestuck to see what the occasional weird noises the name caused were going on about. I'm very certain that I didn't even make it to meeting any of the other kids I was so bored.

CHEL: Same here. It took me two or three attempts to get to that point. The problem is that the intro is left over from its days as a forum game, in which no one was expecting it to lead into the epic story it became. It worked great for that format, but less well now. And here we start on our first counts.

GET ON WITH IT!: 1 HOW NOT TO WRITE A WEBCOMIC: 2

How Not to Write a Novel lists multiple errors which could be said to apply here:

The Waiting Room - wherein the story is too long delayed Here the writer churns out endless scenes establishing background information with no main story in sight. On chapter 3, the reader still has no idea why it’s important to know about [the background info, in this case how badly John fails at using technology]. By chapter 7, the reader would be having strong suspicions that it isn’t important, were a reader ever to make it as far as chapter 7. Zeno’s Manuscript - in which irrelevant detail delays narrative momentum Any scene can be killed by description of every meaningless component of whatever action the character undertakes. As in Zeno’s Paradox, in which an arrow never reaches its target because it must always travel half the remaining distance, the reader begins to feel as if the end is further and further away.

A comic about a kid failing to master a video game inventory system is mildly amusing once, but not when it drags on this long, and it’s not particularly fitting for an epic adventure involving the fate of universes. Well, that’s not quite fair; introduction to mundane life and slow revelation of the magical goings-on works fine for books like the Harry Potter series. But, to take Philosopher’s Stone as an example, multiple different odd things happen over the course of Uncle Vernon’s regular boring day, increasing in scale until it’s very clear something strange is going on, and establishing multiple aspects of the wizarding world, e.g. owls, their fashion, the existence and disappearance of a mysterious villain, the fact that the wizarding world is supposed to be secret.

John fucking about with his sylladex and putting up movie posters for page after page doesn’t tell us anything new. Failing to use the sylladex once would be enough to get the point that magical video game inventories are a thing in this world and John’s not very good at using them across, and then we really ought to move on, and we can already see the posters on his walls so we don’t need to see him hanging more. Possibly we could have needed the latter in a purely text format where we couldn’t see the walls, or in a comic without text description at the bottom where attention would need to be drawn to them on-panel. Admittedly, it does establish him picking up the hammer, which becomes relevant, but we don’t need a full page each for both the action of him picking up the hammer and the action of him hanging the poster.

… Who hangs a poster with nails, anyway? His walls must be in a hell of a state.

For that matter, that’s another HNTWAN entry or two:

The Second Argument in the Laundromat - a scene which occurs twice NEVER use two scenes to establish the same thing. We do not, under any circumstances, want a series of scenes in which the hero goes to job interviews but fails to get the job, or has a series of unsuccessful dates to illustrate bad luck in love. This works in the movies, where three scenes can pass in thirty seconds, but not in a novel. The Redundant Tautology - wherein the author repeats himself If you have made a point in one way, resist the temptation to reinforce it by making it again. Do not reexpress it in more flowery terms, and do not have the character reaffirm it in dialogue […] This point is worth repeating; don’t reiterate. HOW NOT TO WRITE A WEBCOMIC: 4

Additionally, people with a lower tolerance for “lovable clumsy dork” characters are going to come to hate John before the comic’s even started, though it’s probably best that people who are going to hate the main character learn that quickly so they can leave. I can understand not wanting to lose the forum game which originally spawned the comic, the other people involved would probably not be pleased, but perhaps it would be better saved as a side story and trimmed down when the comic proper was released. At least they could be compressed down by showing multiple failures and multiple poster-hanging actions on single pages.

One other minor gripe might be the neologisms, such as “sylladex” meaning inventory. I found it fairly easy to pick up and it does make the tone and narration nicely distinctive, but it’s a level of extra complication. How Not to Write a Novel has a couple points on excessively baroque wordplay - do you guys think it’s worth giving it a point for that?

BRIGHT: Possibly not in this case - wordplay is a feature of HS and this one is at least made fairly clear. There are plenty of offenders later on as I recall though...

CHEL: Okay, seems fair. In this case it is more of a feature than a bug. It does establish the narrative voice and add to the video game theme. However, the movie posters also bring up an addition to our third count.

Plus, a black president? Now you’ve seen everything! WHITE SBURB POSTMODERNISM: 1

A reference to the song “White Suburb Impressionism”, by IAMX…

"IAMX - 'White Suburb Impressionism" (Watch on YouTube)

… this count goes up whenever characters behave in a way which suggests they’re, well, white and suburban (or wealthier), despite any attempts to present them otherwise. This would have passed without comment, but Hussie later tried to claim he’d always intended the kids to be “aracial”, so any reader could project themselves or their preferred headcanons onto the kids. As we’ll show you, we don’t believe him, or at least don’t believe he succeeded. That would probably be difficult to pull off, anyway. Race affects a lot more than features on a stylised sprite.

FAILURE ARTIST: Now, I can’t quite put my finger on it but John’s and Dave’s opinion on black presidents in movies (that it’s a gimmick ruined by Obama’s election) feels like something that would only come out of a white mouth i.e. Andrew Hussie’s. Not the most egregious case of implied whiteness but still worth noting.

CHEL: The point of the joke here is not 100% clear, and that’ll be a thing which comes up later as well. See, I agree that’s Dave’s opinion, but I thought the point was that John genuinely didn’t know there was a black president at the time of writing because he’s already been established to be not exactly a genius and so far he’s been focused on movies and video games instead of real life. Maybe I’m underestimating him, though, since admittedly not very much of him has been shown at this point and it’s been a while since I read the whole thing. I’m not going to start using the ARE YOU TRYING TO BE FUNNY count here, though, because here Hussie clearly was trying to be funny. It just isn’t clear to me what about it was supposed to be funny. That’s probably my autism talking, though. Jokes are hard. I agree that it sounds like a white kid’s opinion either way - even the dimmest black American kid would know Obama existed, and so most likely would non-black people of colour.

Anyway! Things pick up a bit when John, under the username ectoBiologist, starts chatting to the second character to be introduced, currently known as turntechGodhead, though the second topic of conversation is a reference to a 1989 movie which, as time goes on, will be familiar to fewer and fewer readers. Luckily, the writer realises this, and the content of the conversation makes the reference sufficiently clear without falling into As You Know dialogue.

FAILURE ARTIST: Namely, their conversation is about a scene where - pardon me for being gross but it’s in the comic - a character accidentally ingests urine instead of apple juice. John and TG are surprised the character knew it was urine but I find it weird that someone with working smell would not know what it is. Urine has a distinct odor.

CHEL: Well, be fair. According to the drawings, the characters in question don’t have noses!

FAILURE ARTIST: On a more pertinent note, this conversation is an edited version of one Hussie and a friend had. Perhaps Hussie was TG? TG is practically an Author Avatar for Hussie. Sure, Hussie literally appears in the comic later, but TG seems to fit his true personality better. We’ll see how that affects things for better or for worse.

BRIGHT: This is also the reader’s introduction to the Pesterlog. This is one of those things that seems like it should be out of place in a webcomic - it’s just a page of two people talking to each other in chatlog format, with no other information - but the Pesterlogs actually work surprisingly well.

FAILURE ARTIST: When I first read Homestuck, I didn’t know you had to click on the Pesterlog to open it. I just sat around wondering what amazing conversations they were having. I’m not the only one I think who made that mistake.

CHEL: Yeah, I think I briefly had the same problem, but I don’t remember for sure. Possibly more attention could be drawn to the button.

TIER: I would've probably ended up in the same boat if the friends that recommended I read Homestuck didn't specifically tell me not to accidentally overlook them!

CHEL: That’s not exactly a writing error, so I’m not sure it falls under our jurisdiction, but it’s a point that ought to be brought up. The Pesterlogs do work well once the reader actually sees them, anyway. It’s actually pretty interesting to see how much information can be conveyed in a conversation without falling into As You Know Bob. Let’s check what points are introduced in this first one, for example:

- John really loves what he got for his birthday, a Little Monsters poster. From this we know he’s not spoiled (this is how you do it, Meyer) and easily entertained, and likely has a good home life, as he’s so happy and grateful about a gift from his dad.

-turntechGodhead has apple juice in his closet. This establishes his odd home life, and gets explained in more detail later.

- Some things about the personalities of both kids. John is enthusiastic and a joker, TG is mellower, sarcastic, rambles a bit, and at least plays at being cool.

- John really wants to play the SBURB Beta, a game mentioned earlier which is late being released. TG is less keen, again trying to be cool about it.

- Said game got “slammed” by critics, despite the fact that we learned earlier from John’s SBURB-logo calendar that this game has been hyped to hell and back and must be popular, with merchandise and reviews being released before even the beta version of the game is out. Something weird is going on; someone really wants a lot of people to play this game.

Not bad considering a total lack of body language reference or narration. Das Sporking’s seen authors using traditional narration do worse!

FAILURE ARTIST: The (adult) critics of Game Bro get into shenanigans that prevent them from playing the game they reviewed. Perhaps there’s something in the game that prevents itself from being played by adults, just like how adults can’t pilot Evangelions in the anime Neon Genesis Evangelion.

CHEL: Not sure. Doesn’t one of Dad’s online friends play it, or at least get caught up in it, later on? Though that part’s obviously supposed to be a joke… Maybe instead it’s a built-in way to stop anyone who might be listened to warning others what it does?

As established earlier, said beta is late; this is a reference to the originally planned launch date of the comic, three days before it actually ended up being released. Also, there’s a pun you may have missed in the background. The programming files on John’s desktop include the phrase “^CAKE”. The ^ symbol is called a carot. Get used to noticing those. It’s pretty amazing how many references, self-references, puns, and recurring themes are worked in, and people such as revolutionaryduelist have made semi-careers picking them all out. We won’t bother with all of them or we’ll be here all century, but we’ll pick up on any obvious ones.

FAILURE ARTIST: Hussie majored in computer science so there’s lot of computer science in-jokes in the beginning.

BRIGHT: Something I just noticed: One of the other files on John’s desktop is ‘TYPHEUS’. It even has a Denizen icon! Probably something that has been brought up plenty of times before, but still nifty on a reread.

CHEL: Typheus and Denizens will come up later in the comic.

TIER: When he feels like it, Hussie is immensely good at foreshadowing later events in pretty subtle but solid ways. It's stuff like this that makes times when he does fumble look worse than they probably are in comparison.

[farplane]

blood in the water

octobre 2019: warrior of light au sairsel, carrying on. ffxiv:stormblood (4.0 lv 65) spoilers.1,578 words.

For the first time stepping off the Misery and onto the Kugane docks, Sairsel felt as though he could breathe again. Lyse might have had to drag him kicking and screaming from Rhalgr’s Reach, if not for the shock and grief having rendered him into a state one step removed from complete resignation. The truth was that he couldn’t bear to leave Gyr Abania, couldn’t bear to walk away from the defeat just because he could—never mind that he had to, because they called him “hero” like he deserved it—while the rest of the people he so dearly wanted to be able to call his continued to suffer.

But he’d gone, because there was another truth that lay in the pit of his chest, burning like a coal that wouldn’t fade to ash: he was enraged. If he had to go halfway across the world to spill Garlean blood, to give Ala Mhigo an ilm of an advantage against the Empire for its liberation—then so be it.  

Sailing to the Far East had washed over him like a tide, and he’d watched the line of the horizon and let seawater fill his lungs, drop by drop, the farther away the waters carried him from Gyr Abanian shores. He’d never realized, despite all that people said about him and a notion of heroism that felt as though it belonged to someone else’s name, how much he cared about Eorzea until he realized that he was leaving all of it behind.

So he hadn’t breathed; not for a long time. And then the sky opened above him, and what lay under his feet was a great grass sea. The Steppe had so little of home—not the Wood, and not Gyr Abania—but something about the way the clouds stretched over his head, silent and endless over a land that was wild and untamed, simply felt right.

He’d had enough of the hours they spent underwater with the blessing protecting his body but not the instincts that told his mind he was supposed to be drowning; he was glad to drown in the horizon, for a change. The dizzying spin came to a stop. The rage—only burning brighter after having stood in front of the thrice-damned Garlean bastard—almost faded entirely.

His voice, dripping with blood—the champion of the savages—almost fell quiet, with the wind howling in Sairsel’s ears.

I am no hero. I am no one’s champion.

I am a fool of a boy with a bow, and I am forestborn, and I am Ala Mhigan by blood. I am not living for your pleasure—I am fighting.

It had always been the trees that answered him, but their voices were not to be heard upon these plains; the wind spoke in their stead. And it pushed.

And he breathed.

“You’re smiling,” said Lyse as they navigated the Reunion markets. In her voice, there was, of all things, hope.

“I’m not smiling,” Sairsel said.

“Yes, you are. I know, because you’ve been making the same three faces since the second we left Limsa, and they are not pleasant.”

Sairsel raised his eyebrows, giving Lyse a childishly irked expression that he hoped Yugiri would not turn around to see. “Did Alisaie task you with insulting me while she was gone so that both my feet would stay firmly on the ground?”

“No; I came up with that myself,” Lyse said with a tight-lipped smile that was somehow no less cheeky. “You grew up in a roaming tribe like the people here, didn’t you?”

“Not like them,” Sairsel said, making no effort to hide his wonder at the wealth of different people around them, “but, aye, I did.” 

Absentmindedly, he rubbed his fingers over the line of green ink running down from cheekbone to the corner of his lip, and wondered if any of the Xaela tribes held a marking tradition that might resemble his people’s blood writing.

“Feeling homesick?”

“Not the way you think,” he said dismissively, tugging at one of the clasps on his ears. Homesickness and wandering felt like two things that didn’t belong together—if he was homesick, it was not for the Wood. It was for Rhalgr’s Reach, before Zenos had turned it into a violated, smoking wreck.

But they didn’t speak of the Reach. Lyse had borne enough since Baelsar’s Wall for anyone to struggle to keep a smile on their faces, and she kept fighting. Even had Sairsel been able to push the words out—to speak about defeat, about the loss, about Meffrid and Y’shtola lying broken and everyone else—he couldn’t bear the risk of tearing her down. They had to keep their heads out of the water.

Still, she knew what he meant. Of course she did. “Yeah, me too,” she said, then smiled, and tugged him away from the buuz stall with a promise—to herself or to him, he wasn’t certain—to try the local fare later.

While they scoured the market in search of information, thick grey clouds gathered over the Steppe, and a part of Sairsel was half-prepared to take it as an omen as they went from one Xaela to another, teetering between obtaining only silent stares and causing offense. He was already exhausted by the time they found the Mol woman, sweet and pink and so softly bright that she seemed to help the sun to rend the clouds. When she pointed out the hill to them, Sairsel looked up and saw blue skies.

“You mean he’s been right above our heads this entire time,” he said flatly.

“If that isn’t how this whole adventuring hero business goes,” Lyse said, halfway between sympathy and goading. At that, Sairsel groaned and sank into a crouch, resting his elbows on his knees to better bury his face in his hands. Lyse helpfully patted his head.

“Can’t we ever just—”

“No.”

“—go to one place and—”

 “No.”

Sairsel heaved a mournful, long-suffering, muffled sigh. Lyse allowed him another two seconds of wallowing before patting his shoulder, then taking his arm and pulling on his sleeve. Yugiri and Gosetsu were already halfway up the rise.

“Come on, soldier. I don’t want to miss that noble lord everyone around here has been going on about, and neither do you.”

“I would rather not talk to anyone for the next three days.”

Lyse gave a tug that he imagined was meant to be soft and still felt as though she were trying to pull his arm out of its socket, and so he followed. He climbed the hill at her side, and then stood breathless at the top of the rise—not from the effort, but at the view. As the plains fell open at their feet, the sky arced wide over his head the way it did from the banks of the Velodyna; he could trace its domed curve with his eyes, its edges spilling into the horizon. And at the very edge of the cliff, as though he meant to be one with that horizon, sat Yugiri and Gosetsu and Doma’s Lord Hien.

When he spoke, his voice seemed to be born of the wind, unshakeable as a mountain, and Sairsel felt as though he were listening to a bard whose words flowed with such unity with the world itself that they needed no melody. Sairsel was listening only with half an ear, startled not by the nobility of his words but the simple, deeply rooted calm of the voice that bore them. When Hien got to his feet and turned—and smiled—Sairsel no longer knew what he’d expected; there was only the man before as he stood now, with a bare sky and a wild land at his back.

Fleetingly, Sairsel found himself wondering whether it felt as strange to Lyse now as it always had to him to be called a Scion. If Minfilia had been standing with them, or at the very least Alphinaud, or even Thancred, it might have felt more natural. As it was, he might have preferred to have been introduced as members of the Resistance.

But the titles and the words, he realized, mattered little. It was their deeds that spurred Hien to meet Lyse’s gaze, then his, and bow—hands at his sides, back arrow-straight, gaze tipped downward. Sairsel almost stepped back. How could a single, silent gesture hold so much force? Even after all this time, after all the names—Eorzea’s champion, the Warrior of Light, Hydaelyn’s chosen—Sairsel couldn’t bear even this. 

He averted his gaze. The wind became razor-sharp with cold against his cheek as though he had pulled the clouds back over the sun.

“The Scions of the Seventh Dawn,” Hien said. Even after Yugiri’s swift departure and rousing talk of revolution, Sairsel may as well have listened with his head underwater; he had a knack for being shocked about all the wrong things. “An inspiring title indeed. But we are more than our titles, are we not?”

Sairsel wasn’t certain whether that was his way of asking for their names, so he raised his hand—low enough to hope it wasn’t noticeable—and nudged Lyse forward. She stumbled two steps, snapped narrowed eyes his way, and set her spine straight.

“My name is Lyse.” She jammed her thumb in his direction. “This is Sairsel. We’re Ala Mhigan.”

We’re Ala Mhigan.

Sairsel’s feet were firm on the ground as he met Hien’s gaze. Study roots had crept along with him across the seas, and now they held him fast, and he stood tall.

[bladeshowers]

💕 (I mean, go for it for anyone, though if I should throw a muse name, I'll throw Zenos)

Have we discussed shipping before?: yes || no My interest level overall: I’ve wanted this for so long || can’t wait || I think it’ll be fun || kinda feeling it || maybe with a lot of plotting || I need to think about it || not interested, sorry How we should do this: jump right in || slow burn || pre-established || build up to it in a thread || anything goes Dynamics I want to try out with our ship: friends to lovers || rivals to lovers || enemies to lovers || mutual pining || battle couple || childhood friends || high school sweethearts || star crossed lovers || long time lovers || old married couple || newlyweds || sickeningly sweet couple || secret lovers || fake dating/marriage || best friends hiding their feelings || arranged marriage || soulmates || other

Evan & Zenos - hello! So I love your Zenos and it's a joy seeing any of your writing or character headcanons on the dash. ANYWHO I think in terms of shipping Evan would be my WoL who is more open to it. She is very much his mirror - loves the thrill of an adventure and an increasingly difficult fight. To prove herself and come out victorious. Nothing makes her feel more alive. Also I kind of headcanon she's fairly fond of Zenos. Maybe not "him" per se, but how they kind of grew together. I feel like she probably would have tried to reach out to him more than the canon WoL does and would have been down to fight him daily, 24/7 day or night, come rain or shine. She just had to save the world and all her friends so she's been busy. Even if not romantic, I can see them becoming very good friends who help improve one another, whether that be in fighting or actually how they interact with the world. Evan is of the "too nice" variety. Even though she's kind of over everything, she still will help everyone, even if she's going to moan about doing it. So I think Zenos, in his unique perspective on things, could probably introduce her to the idea of saying no. At least more often than she does. I think like, it would be a very slow burn, because he's done a lot of things she doesn't agree with morally. She wouldn't hold it permanently against him or over his head, but she wouldn't beat around the bush about it either. While she isn't sure he has the emotional capacity to become a hero or be selfless, she wouldn't ask that of him, just to keep his prey instinct in check and...Not try to destroy the world again thanks?? Though if we're going AU that could become pretty irrelevant. I'm open to anything with that too since...au's can be super fun.

Amara & Zenos - Generally I wouldn't think of shipping Amara and Zenos purely because, even in her WoL verses, she isn't quite a mirror-like Evan would be. That being said, I am extremely intrigued by the idea, as Amara is attracted to the dark things in life. He isn't someone she can manipulate by any stretch of the imagination. Nor is he motivated by the things most people are. She would be extremely intrigued and frightened by this. It would utterly fascinate her to try and understand what makes him tick. The thing that would frighten her the most is how she could easily see herself being him and how thin that line is for her. She kinda struggles with viewing herself as a 'monster' because of how easily killing an opponent comes to her. How easily she can compartmentalize it all and move on with her life. To her, it's kind of a sign that something is off with her, particularly when her friends are the scions, and are happy to point out such kinda moral failings in others. So I imagine a slow build type of thing is possible with them in an AU aspect. Arranged marriage AU is intriguing and could potentially work for it. Say maybe where Garlemald isn't as strong as it is in a sort of... Romance of the Four Kingdoms kind of struggle? I'm just shooting out ideas so feel free to run with or reject any!

Bonus Ramblings

Rosaria & Amara: I've been intrigued by this for a bit and would enjoy exploring it possibly with both of their Garlemald verses? I think there's potential there for a secret lovers type of thing or them being good friends. Evan & Thorn: I have no idea why but Evan is internally heart-eying at him so I'm just gonna throw her at him and see if it sticks. Evan is originally from Gridania and has never been a big fan over how the Duskwights are treated. Particularly after what happened with Foulques (who she actually kind of liked and felt like his situation wasn't entirely his fault) left a really awful taste in her mouth. So I can see her trying to befriend him at least and keep an eye out for hunts for him. Slow burn type thing or just maybe a slow burn friendship?

Fandaniel & Amara: I have a weakness for any and all Fandaniel & Amara because she's sympathetic to him in a way, but she's selfish and so she likes being alive. If you ever want things let me know because I'd even enjoy them just randomly talking and poking at one another.

I also want things with Nora and Zikom too but I legit wore myself out typing that asdlkasjd apologies XD