valentiques

[valentiques]

caspar is a feminist in our college au server.

[valentiques]

@arrowsfly​​ asked:

his eyes are sparkling as he touches a strand of hilda's long hair with gentle fingers. ' i always loved the color of your hair, hilda. it's so beautiful. like spring. '

Hilda and I were not prepared for this level of soft. | inbox call(ed)!

Rosy color blooms on pale features, soft giggle slipping past lips as she shines through his admiration. How could he manage to be so sweet in earnest? It strikes her as a pleasant surprise, all the more content with his doting to know that it was genuine and not a shallow compliment to sway her favor like she’d been so accustomed to. The change of pace is thoroughly welcomed, having realized long ago that not all exchanges had to play into mental gymnastics or one-upping through playfulness that bordered the line of excess flirting. 

“Careful Ashe, you might just sweep a girl off their feet if you keep saying things like that!” Unintentional charm aside, didn’t spring best thrive in the scenic sight of meadows and flowers? She meets his eyes with a tilt of her head, thinking to herself at how reminiscent their color is to otherworldly nature. It’s always been a stunning aspect of his features that never went unnoticed at even the quickest of looks. “But I guess it works well in your favor with the whole dreamy knights appeal and all.” She winks, unable to help herself after all.

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@seirosblessed​ asked:

[ “  even if it hurts,  i can take it.  ” from Dimitri! ]

𝟑, 𝟒, 𝟓. ━━ ˟ ⊰ ♡ | accepting.

Something in her heart of hearts had compelled her to assist Dimitri after witnessing him endure a blow midbattle that made her cringe in secondhand pain. By all means, he seemed to be coping well– the oh-so virtuous and beaming beacon of perseverance that radiated as brightly as his own golden locks shining through even as they made their way back to the monastery midst tears in their respective school uniforms and the gradual trailing of blood that made for quite the color contrast to their attire. After much insistence to help deal with both of their victory's bodily consequences (skirting the lines of an outright demand–) does Hilda give a pleased smile once they’ve settled in the infirmary.

“Oh? Excuse me, dear prince. How noble of you!” Formalities slip off silver tongue and honey-laced praise out of the mere need to tease him about his own stiff demeanor. She shifts her position on the infirmary bed, readying the rag she had dabbed with disinfectant moments prior. Naturally, he’d be prioritized first – something that seemed all too surreal even in Hilda’s mind. “There’s no need to be so modest with a little cleanup. You took a pretty nasty hit on our assignment– frankly, I’m pretty surprised you aren’t hurt more than you already are.” Hilda presses the cloth against his forearm where he’d been slashed, gaze curious and expectant of some sort of instinctual wince in response to her intentional lack of warning. She switches between cleaning metallic drips and pressing down to stop the blood from flowing altogether. In the meantime, she hums, pink hues meeting blue. 

“Does it sting? You can be honest about it – there’s really no reason to keep up a tough guy act. Sincerity is an endearing trait of yours that suits you best.”

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ive got a couple things to say that are entirely irrelevant from each other but need to be reiterated nonetheless:

1) linhardt will always be the biggest ride or die friend you could ever have. love that for him. 2) ignatz gets slept on so much! [rattles the fandom] he deserves so much better like if you don't like his more shy demeanor look at his raw ass dialogue and crit lines post ts like what the hell! 3) I had something else I wanted to say but i forgot what that was so take this hilda

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hevrhardt‌:

He watches for a moment as his impromptu companion conceals herself and only turns back to his bookwhen satisfied that there’s no chance she’ll be seen without significant effort on her pursuer’s behalf.

By the time the chief aide ascends the library’s stairs, Linhardt’s focus is squarely back in the aged book once more. In fact, he barely gives Seteth more than a passing glance—to the elder man’s chagrin—not even when he’s questioned about other students that might be in the library. The young priest’s tepid response is that although he’s one of the most regular patrons here, he’s hardly going to keep track of everyone’s comings and goings. Especially someone so clearly un-academically inclined as the Goneril girl.

While there’s certainly some intriguing mystery surrounding the man and his so-called sister, he owes him nothing and gains just as little from helping him. And then, as he’s predicted, his infuriating manner sends Seteth on his way again.

Once the old oak door’s closed again, Linhardt twists back towards where the fugitive is hiding. ‘ As I was saying, you owe me. ’

Twintails poke out from the side of a bookshelf once she’s ascertained that the coast is clear. Hiding Hilda as a stowaway certainly garnered the proper attitude to get behind paying him back for his sudden act of charity. But, that doesn’t quell the growing anxiousness that tenses in her shoulders. Kind acts could only be handed out for so long without seeking something to gain from it – and frankly, she didn’t know Linhardt well enough to know if his idea of a ‘favor’ would be on the merciful side. What she has heard of him – higher pursuit of knowledge whilst slinking around at unspoken hours – makes her all the more uncertain. The thought of him possibly pressing her about her crest and throwing her axe around leaves an all too sour taste in her mouth. 

“Of course I owe you,” she agrees firmly as she brings herself back to a stand. After ironing out the wrinkles of her clothing with a hand, she steps out of her hiding spot and walks toward her peer. “But, whatever it is you’re thinking of... maybe I’m not all that equipped to do it. Can’t we call this whole thing even under a nice cup of tea?” The guttural, sordid feeling of being observed and scrutinized at high effort is enough to make her stomach churn. She pouts, but there is a semblance of genuineness behind her forced distress. 

“I’ll even bring my favorite pastries! How does that sound, Linhardt?”

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@echoedfates​ asked:

Dorothea: "Do you ever just feel like Felix and Lorenz are the same person?"

we’re both idiots who have misread lorenz as felix and felix as lorenz in our respective wed bed behead memes sjkhgsjdfkgsdj 

“Oh, all the time! They’re both so stuffy and... hardheaded!”

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@nacphilim​​ asked:

“ you know i’m okay. ” - Claude pre ts :)

𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐌𝐈 (선미)   ♡  𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒 ━━ ˟ ⊰ ♡ | accepting.

Movements are subtle yet impactful as she holds Claude’s hand in her own. Her other hand is occupied with the fine-tipped bristles of the nail polish brush, attempting to steady him from any jerking movement while she applies topcoat on his nails. It wasn’t anything extravagant nor adventurous, a simple clear coat was all that she had in mind for the day. Bonding in the luxury of peace like this was a happy indulgence for Hilda. Though the matter of discussion that Hilda had schemed to take place in the first place – after all, it was difficult to move when she held him in place – was not. Her eyes remain attentive to her handiwork while her voice lingers somewhere else. Somewhere far in the distance, riddled with growing worry. 

“You say that, but it’s not like I can turn off my concern in an instant.” Voice wavers, clearly dissatisfied with his dismissive answer. “It’s not like you to be so standoffish and secluded. It’s entirely uncharacteristic of you! You can’t blame me for getting all huffy with the sudden change in air.” The brush is returned to its bottle with an unceremonious dip and twist to seal it shut. She sighs. “Can you at least let me know if I can help somehow?”

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seirosblessed‌:

He allows himself a pretentious insulted gasp, hand retracting and coming to rest atop his heart as if clutching a lethal injury. Yet it’s all just a show, he knows this as much as he’s certain Hilda does; still he continues to play this game of cat and mouse, though who’s the prey and who’s the hunter, it remains to be seen. 

Well, he doesn’t mind being either of the two. 

❝ Beautiful maiden, you wound me! ❞ Voice showing anguish as warm brown eyes look away in fake humility- for a moment giving the impression he might give up, but, does Sylvain Jose Gautier ever give up his pursuits?

❝ Tell me then, how to hone myself into a suitable escort! How to make sure I will be fit as your humble servant this beautiful evening, so that I may bask beneath those endless eyes of yours a moment longer! Train me, as you’d train a loyal hound. ❞

Sweet words, laced with honey and flirtarious arts, yet spoken with the exaggerated air of one who knows this is no vow, but a temporary game for both the parties involved.

“A hound? Now that’s interesting.” Hilda couldn’t help but chuckle at the dramatic display of theatrics that was performed before her. Nothing as ridiculous as her own acts – yet resonated similarly all the same. What a showman! But that was all that was, wasn’t it? A show?

She must applaud him and revel in the entertainment, as a fellow performer. It was always quite interesting to see things like these from the perspective of a watcher.

“Maybe I should see to it that you get a collar and leash and all! I could personalize those, actually. But really, does a bloodhound like you have any plan on truly giving into domestication?” A pause, musing carefully – devilishly, even, under batted lashes. “I think you’ll just go to any hand that feeds you. Pull too tight on your leash and you’ll just run.” Hilda speaks her truth into existence– it is from experience after all. She may not know what lingers beneath the veil, but the veil itself is something she is privy to. Still, this little game of tug-of-war was far more amusing than some random noble lacky approaching her with insubstantial advances. 

Hands find themselves now resting comfortably on her hips. Despite being far shorter than Sylvain, she looks up at him without an ounce of intimidation nor inferiority at his taller stature. It’s a challenge, almost. “Anyway,” she shoos away the hilarious vision of Sylvain with dog ears. “I can’t just tell you what you’re supposed to do. You’re supposed to show me! Prove it! It’s not my job to think for you.”

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@bladedspite​ asked:

you killed me two times. meet me in the training yard.

ON GOD??? hilda vc: it’s not my fault!! | sorta unprompted & always accepting !!!

“Aw Felix, are you feeling worked up over it? There are a whole lot more productive ways to go about expressing that than duking it out over the clattering of bulky weapons!”

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anonymous asked:

Petra, Leonie, Felix

wed bed behead ! ━━ ˟ ⊰ ♡ | no longer accepting!!

“Behead Felix. I really don’t have anything against him! It’s just how the cookie’s been crumbling with my options...” 

“I think I’d wed Leonie, and bed Petra. But these can be swapped. Maybe. Let’s just leave it at that!”

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anonymous asked:

caspar, raph, dedue

wed bed behead ! ━━ ˟ ⊰ ♡ | no longer accepting!!

“Wow, way to kill the mood. They’re all such great guys at the end of the day.” She waves a hand dismissively, yet she frowns nonetheless. “I don’t want to behead Raphael, but I don’t think I’d also ever... you know... So wed, then? Bed Caspar, behead Dedue.”

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@seirosblessed​​ asked:

[ dimitri, shamir, ferdinand! ]

wed bed behead ! ━━ ˟ ⊰ ♡ | accepting (like two more max)

Her eyes twinkle with newfound intrigue and curiosity. What an interesting set of people to pick from! Thankfully, her mulling is rather quick this time around. She needs not to spare a second thought toward it. “Wed Ferdinand,” the words come with an incredulous amount of ease, despite the sacredness that lied behind marriage. Ah well, this was all fun and games after all. “I wonder, as his wife would he let me style his hair every day? It’s kind of fun to think about.” Hilda giggles. “Bed Dimitri– if that’s even possible. Behead Shamir.”

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@echoedfates​​ asked:

Claude, Marianne, Lorenz!

wed bed behead ! ━━ ˟ ⊰ ♡ | accepting

“Realistically? I’m not going to deprive Marianne of the happy marriage she deserves! So she gets wed again!” Yet another delicate topic – the idea of sharing sheets between the two remaining contenders. But there seems to be something that compels Hilda with her answer rather promptly. It is a wonder what factors came into play beneath those pink locks. But Hilda simply smiles, peach tinted lips not providing any context or reasoning of the sort. “Claude. Bed Claude, behead Lorenz.”

She probably answered that far too quickly than necessary.

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anonymous asked:

ferdinand, lorenz, felix

wed bed behead ! ━━ ˟ ⊰ ♡ | accepting

“This one’s easier but not by much.”

“Haughty as both may be at times, I’m pretty sure I could count on both Lorenz and Ferdinand to have my best interests in mind!” But oh, the future was such a delicate thing– just who could she trust to bear the weight of such a heavy responsibility? “Wed Lorenz, bed Ferdinand, then.” Hilda nods decisively. “Sorry Felix, but you’re the one left with the behead option.”

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whoever sent that anon thank you for giving me a GOOD fucking laugh, if only because this is a consistent running gag between me and my friends ever since i saw the tweets in my screenshots here

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@jalokivirouva​​ asked:

Claude, Petra, Marianne

wed bed behead ! ━━ ˟ ⊰ ♡ | accepting, lmao.

“Wow, right for the gut here huh?” Bright orbs blink in bewilderment. These... certainly were some prime choices for options. She couldn’t think of even theoretically killing off any of them! Hands folded neatly in front of her, head tilting in growing distress. “Well, off the bat I’d have to say wed Marianne. She certainly deserves that kind of treatment after all.” A frown can’t help but tug at the edges of her lips, small sigh passing over it. “I guess in the end I would bed Claude and behead Petra. It’s nothing personal, I just know Claude better. I hope all parties involved understand my thought process. This was really difficult!”

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Wed, Bed, Behead.

Send my muse three names. You know the rest.