#servants backstories

[tiredsystem-r-us]

Still thinking about Bard’s backstory and how Sebastian just fully waltzed up to him as he’s falling apart and about to eat his fallen friend cause he’s starving and everyone is dead

And then this motherfucker in a trench coat with no hair out of place and his shoes fucking shining somehow in all the blood and gore and dirt around and who just fully shows up out of no where to give him tea and just fully lays out a picnic blanket after Bard tries to kill him nearly bc wtf where did this man come form jfc

And Sebastian then later just is like “yo, you should come work for us across the ocean here’s an envelope” and then just fucking disappears into the abyss of nothingness he came from

[ofbreathandflame]

Elain stans have such a weird relationship with Nuala and Cerridwen and I genuinely can't tell if they just choose not to look at the optics of that dynamic or what...

[wataksampingan]

if I may, for no apparent reason, proudly present:

Them✨️

(Spoiler (sorta, kinda) images under the cut)

ngl, I got taken in by IG reels and thought Edith/Suna would indeed run off with Rhynon (coz that wouldn't be typical) so I started reading casually out of curiosity. As it turns out, they don't in fact run off together and end the plot in 3 chapters, coz that's not the untypical bit of the story.

Then this happened:

"They barely interact!"-

oh sweet child, newborn fledgling, babe of light and innocence: I was forged in the fires of shonen manga and anime in the 2000s; I was there in the age of the "crack pairing"; I stood witness as entire LiveJournal communities were born of two characters just being in the same frame of an opening sequence

"you cannot kill me in a way that matters"

also my username literally means side character so if not me then whomst

OK back to underrated comedy king and queen Theo and Perry

[princess-ibri]

King Magnifico Backstory Part 3

Part 2

On the Princesses 18th birthday, a strange messenger came to the castle, with a desperate plea.

"Princess Maroula, my mistress, the Keeper of the Wishing Stars, who granted both you and your father life, needs your aid. There is a quest that only one such as you can fulfill. A dangerous quest but a necessary one for the good of all people within this world and the EverRealm. She has done what she can herself, but her gaze is stretched thin by her obligations. We ask that you leave as soon as possible, if you are willing to come and aid us.”

And the princess, always kind of heart, and remembering the conversation in the garden all those years ago was willing

But her father was not.

“How dare your mistress ask this dangerous task of my daughter! She knows the perils that exist in that realm, that befell me. She did nothing to aid me in my troubles, why should she ask to place my daughter in peril now?”

“The Blue Lady is young, in the way of her people, she had only recently taken over this charge when your misfortunes befell you, and she has sorrowed over them ever since. She granted you your daughter in part as penance for that failure. But still she has her duties, and she has foreseen a threat that only as deeply linked to Wishes as Maroula is can combat. Would you see an entire realm suffer for what was done to you?”

Maroula knew the anger born from his past heartache, which her father usually tried to keep under control, beginning to rise, and tried to sooth him

“Father, I am willing to go. You and Mother have taught me well in both the use of magic and the need to be generous in helping others. Please, let me go and help the Lady. How can I call myself a princess of Rosas and not do so?”

“No Maroula!” The King cried, his fear for his daughter and anger getting the best of him. “I won’t allow it! What right has this fairy to grant my greatest wish, give our happiness tangibility and then take it away!”

“She’s not taking me away Father, she’s only asking that I—“

“Enough!”

The king turned and dismissed the messenger coldly from his sight, demanding that it never return, for his daughter would not be going to the other realm, now or ever.

“That choice is the Princess Maroula’s.” The messenger said as it left, unfazed by the king’s anger. “She is a woman grown now, able to make her own choices, even if they are not what you would choose for her. If she wishes to go, then she may go”

“Then I shall insure she cannot!”

And with that, the king used his magics to open up a room, deep deep beneath the castle, a room he had discovered upon taking claim of the castle, (a room where he had found a dangerous and deceptive tome of magic). Here he wove about with his spells and enchantments so that he was sure no star’s light could find his daughter.

“I don’t wish to leave you here Maroula, but I must keep you safe, at all costs. Let that other place deal with its own problems. You will stay here until you’ve learned to see sense”

And so the king left his daughter crying in the dark, as his gentle queen cried in the palace above, torn between supporting her husband in keeping their daughter safe from unknown danger, and supporting her daughter’s generous wish to help

What neither realized, is that there was one small opening within the dungeon, a keyhole that the king had failed to account for, a keyhole through which a single thin strain of starlight came through and found the weeping princess. The princess beheld the light, and taking the power within her, she wished upon the star

And the star answered

But what came after for Princess Maroula is a story for another time…

The king and queen sought day and night for their daughter, but even with all his powers, either the power of the Lady of the Wishing Stars was greater, or Maroula was using her own to avoid her father’s search. Even his wishing her back did nothing. And so the king and queen fell into despair, knowing their daughter was lost forever.

Is this the thanks I get for granting everyone else’s wishes all these years? To have my own daughter run from me? I’ve cared for her from the day she was born, given her everything and and she still decides to defy and disrespect me with this rebellion?!”

At last, the king, letting his anger over this perceived betrayal overcome his grief, decided that they could no longer go on as they had, and so he crafted a spell that would enable them to move forward

He asked his wife to give to him her wish for their daughter’s return, gifting it to him to hold onto until it could be granted. And as Amaya gave him her wish, trusting that one day it would come true—the memory of her daughter left her entirely, along with the grief of her loss. Letting her forget without the weight of regret…

From then on, the king utilized this spell whenever it came time to grant his people’s wishes, holding on to them in perpetuity, instead of granting them on sight. Having lost the love of his daughter, he tried to substitute it with the love he felt imbibed in each wish as he guarded them, keeping them safe as he couldn’t protect her. Each person who gave him their wish forgot it, and so Magnifico intended to ensure that not only would no unworthy wish be granted, but no wish would lead to the heartbreak he had suffered

Despite his anger at his daughter, over the years he took many other apprentices, seeking to fill the void she had left, even granting their and their families wishes when he usually would have declined to—but none of them ever filled the place of his beloved Maroula.

And as the years passed, his anger over her loss, the heartbreak of his past, and his frustration over watching everyone’s wishes be granted but his own began to harden the king’s heart, and a darkness grew beneath his pristine exterior, waiting for the day until he felt threatened enough in his power and control to break loose…

[prompt-of-the-day]

Dialogue: #054

"Is everything ready?"

"Almost..."

"Almost?! I'm not paying you for almost, I'm paying you for perfection and I expect everything to be as it should!"

"And everything is! Except.... we can't find your daughter. "

"You're telling me the party starts in half an hour and you have lost the birthday girl?!"

[mmercurii]

Imma need Yana to PLEASE skip over Snake’s backstory and just continue the manga.

[grandorderconfessions]

[rainbowsandwhumperflies]

The Winged Servant - 4

cws: emotional state that's verging on a panic attack, emotional manipulation, discussion of whumpee's death, whumpee trying to stop himself from having any type of preferences, let me know if I missed anything!

masterlist

Everyone here had their own set of rules. Some were easier to follow than others. Her Majesty the Queen was particular about me being graceful, while no one else really cared how I walked. Prince Ryan made sure that I knew every task I was given was for me to finish completely and perfectly, while Prince Cardan found it entertaining to give me two tasks I clearly couldn’t complete at the same time. The separate rules could be confusing sometimes, but generally, they weren’t too hard to figure out.

Jayden’s rules were hard to figure out. Maybe because of the lack of them.

Jayden was the only other servant here. Still higher ranking than me, because he was human, but closer than anyone else. Higher ranking enough that he could’ve treated me like everyone else did—like all I was useful for was servitude. It would only have been fair.

He didn’t treat me like that. He smiled when he saw me and gave me leniency when I made mistakes. Good servants didn’t have likes and dislikes, so of course I didn’t like working with Jayden more than I liked any of my other tasks, but I was incredibly grateful when I did work with him.

Jayden was in charge of making meals for everyone, and I helped with dinner every night. It was my last task before eating dinner and getting any punishment I’d earned during the day. Maybe making dinner wasn’t a difficult job, or maybe Jayden tended to give me the easy parts of it, but either way it was usually the least eventful part of my day.

“Hey, Onyx! Good to see you. Can you start some rice?”

“Yes, sir.” Rice was easy. Rice was put two ingredients in the same pot easy. Rice was I don’t want you doing difficult tasks easy.

Jayden gave me easy tasks and treated me like a human.

Of course, it was better than I deserved, and I really shouldn’t have accepted such kind treatment, but it was… nice.

“Once that’s cooking, start on the dishes, yeah?”

I nodded. Dishes were easy, too, just more time consuming. Jayden didn’t like doing dishes—said that his hands were wrinkled enough from age that he didn’t need them wrinkling more from getting soaked in water all the time. He wasn’t that old—his sixties, I thought—but I liked his wrinkles regardless. His hands were softer than anyone else’s when he patted my shoulder or squeezed my hands. Or maybe his hands were just kinder than anyone else’s.

Dishes were also easy to get lost in. It was a routine—rinse, soap, scrub, rinse, dry, repeat. It was easy for me to do, and easy for me to zone out while doing, because of the repetitive nature of it. Jayden didn’t usually mind when I zoned out, though. He would tap my shoulder if he needed my attention. It was kindness that I was taking advantage of, I was almost certain, but it was nice regardless.

He tapped me on the shoulder today, and I turned, but he wasn’t the one standing behind me.

“Good afternoon, Your Highness,” I mumbled, dropping to my knees and bowing. I was supposed to bow when royalty entered a room, which meant that I was late right now, but Prince Ryan wasn’t supposed to be here. That’s not how the schedule worked. I swallowed around a lump in my throat. “May I assist you with something?”

“Sorry to interrupt. Jayden, you’re finishing dinner on your own, but Onyx will be back to serve it like usual. Onyx, we’re doing your punishments from this morning. C’mon.”

Punishments were supposed to be after dinner. They were always after dinner. I made mistakes throughout the day, and then I was punished for them after dinner, before bed, so that I’d have the opportunity to rest in between punishment and the chores of the next day. Punishments were never-

But Prince Ryan was standing in the kitchen right now, and he had just told me that I was being punished, and I was always supposed to do what the royal family told me to. That rule trumped the others—do what you’re told.

I scrambled to my feet as he walked into the hall, following him to the office. It had hardwood floors, which were easier to get blood off of than the carpeted ones in the bedrooms. If I had to serve dinner while bleeding, I would probably make more mistakes. Prince Ryan knew that. That’s why my schedule was the way it was.

He glanced back at me as we entered the room. “Sit down somewhere. I have a little bit of paperwork to finish filling out, and then we’ll get started.”

Prince Ryan had an entire filing cabinet dedicated to me. Most of it was papers documenting my mistakes and punishments. I’d known that already, but usually he didn’t do it with me here. He said I was more useful doing almost anything besides watching him write things down.

I sat down on the floor next to his chair, trying to keep my posture perfect. He didn’t ever fill out paperwork with me, and he didn’t ever punish me before dinner, and of course I wasn’t supposed to question anything the royal family did but I didn’t understand why everything was so different today. Jayden had been weird too, and Prince Cardan had said that thing about how tonight I was going to-

“Fuck, Onyx, are you crying? I haven’t even touched you yet.”

“My apologies, Your Highness.” I hadn’t realized I was crying, too focused on the discrepancies of the day, but I rubbed at my cheeks immediately, trying to get myself to stop. I wasn’t supposed to cry around other people. It made me look pathetic and attention-seeking. Her Majesty hated it. Prince Ryan tolerated it occasionally, but I still shouldn’t be doing it, especially when he hadn’t even touched me.

“What’s wrong? You’re not usually this…” He looked me up and down. “This pitiful.”

“My apologies.”

“That doesn’t really answer my question. Is it because I’m doing punishments before dinner today?”

“No, I just, I don’t want-” That wasn’t right. Good servants didn’t have wants besides wanting to serve the crown. “Um. I would be, I’d be very grateful to live, Your Highness. Are you killing me tonight?”

He blinked. “No. What?”

“The punishment time was wrong, and, and His Highness Prince Cardan said that I would die tonight.”

Prince Ryan exhaled through his nose, and I flinched at his frustration. “Yeah. He did, you’re right, I forgot about that. Okay. Listen, you understand that you’re supposed to trust the things we say to you, right?”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

“That’s good. I’m glad. You believed him because that’s what you’re supposed to do, and I appreciate that, but the thing about Prince Cardan is that he entertains himself by making my life as difficult as he can. The reason I’m punishing you early tonight is because we have other places to be after dinner, which you weren’t told about because servants like you don’t get to know about these things in advance. Cardan said what he did because he thinks you’ll die, which he’s wrong about. He also thinks it’s funny to watch you worry about things. You're not dying.”

“Thank you for your kindness, Your Highness,” I sniffled.

“Yeah. But you’re not supposed to let this type of thing get under your skin and affect your performance, and this is definitely affecting your performance.”

He was right. He was always right. I was a servant. I needed to focus on completing my duties as a servant, and trust that the royal family had my best interests in mind. Letting myself get stuck on these things would only negatively affect my behavior. “My apologies, Your Highness.”

He stared at me for another moment. “You need to stop crying.”

“I know. My apologies.”

“My mom is- the queen is going to have my head if you’re all sniffly and jumpy like this after dinner. You get the rest of the time it takes me to fill this out, maybe three minutes, and then you need to be able to keep yourself composed.”

“Yes, Your Highness. Thank you.” Three minutes. I breathed as deeply and quietly as I could manage. Three minutes was enough. It would have to be.

~

Taglist: @kaleidoscope-of-thoughts @toyybox

ps: sorry I swear I was going to punish onyx in this chapter but ryan thinks he gets to monologue every time I write him. BUT next chapter's first draft is done, I've just gotta edit it, so onyx will for sure be hurt soon.

[songofsoma]

@ladiemars gave me brainworms for a minthara romancing tav who used to be minthara’s sugar baby before her exile

[otaku-tactician]

FGO OC (initial sketches)

they are a counter guardian who become servant (like EMIYA)

she has nicknames such as 'divine vanguard', 'the hero conqueror', 'lionheart of the back lines' but they are all just dramatizations of their job LOL

stage 1 and 2 ascension

i aimed for a design for a lot of pockets as counter guardians offer a lot of support, so i can imagine they need to take a lot with them. as for the imagery of spikes, that has links to their death, as well as their inner issues (hence why the spikes are around their neck and ears). but the whole vibe is 'yoo why u trying to make a grungy survival outfit a sexy waifu outfit'

they have goggles cuz alaya sends counter guardians to war fronts worldwide, so they need that protection.

stage 1 is their early days of trying to be what a counter hero is expected to be (according to her)

stage 2 is when her ass keep on getting beat on the battlefield and experiencing hells so she stop giving a fuck about looking neat

final ascension

this outfit represents their last living day as a counter guardian. their jacket and top are ripped. their collar is high and hair messy. with each ascension their look becomes increasingly disheveled, showcasing their liberation but also rapid descent to their eventual death (the spikes and decreasing amount of clothes on her body are part of that symbolism). THEY ALSO HAVE NOT MANY POCKETS LEFT :(

this form could be spikier....but it's okay. this fa represents 'exposing one's true self'. no more needing to be presentable, especially not in the face of death.

close-up images

from left to right is how their appearance changes with each ascension. as you can see her hair becomes increasingly messy and less combed back, they also become more smug seeing as all caution was thrown to the wind in their last moments.

[thelostsisters]

“you tiny, ugly, sickly half-wit! you should never have been born, you demon child! i will send you back to the hell you came from!” oh okay 🙃

[roses-and-grimoires]

Prompt #20: Hamper

Characters: Ivaurault, mention of Armand @thedarknesssings, Dauvaunt @pocket-panda, Osmont @klynk-klank

Crack!

The sound of a lance striking a target splits the silence, cutting through the evening air like a knife. Above the sky had already turned dark, the moons already starting to peek over the spires of Ishgard; most people, especially those fortunate enough to reside in the grand, sweeping estates, had long since retreated inside for supper.

And yet a young boy of perhaps eleven or twelve summers continues to linger on the grounds of the Courcelle manor.

His sharp green eyes are fixed upon the target in front of him, as though it had personally offended him. His breath heaves in his chest as he steps back, his lance in hand. Sweat trickles down his skin despite the chilliness of the air as he brings the dulled point of his weapon to bear on the training dummy once more. Another crack! fills the air, causing the older elezen coming out of the manor to wince.

"Master Ivaurault," the servant begins, taking advantage of the pause before the boy could line up another strike. "Lady Courcelle has requested that you come inside. Supper is almost ready."

The boy glances over towards the servant as he speaks, but rather than set down his lance, he shakes his head with all of the stubborn indignation that a child can muster.

"Tell Mother that I am training," he declares. "And am not hungry." This was, in fact, a lie; one easily proven by the rumble of his stomach at the thought of food.

The servant is far better trained than to exhale a sigh at the willful look in the young boy's eye, but it takes much of his self-control.

"Young Master," he begins. "I'm afraid I must insist. The Lady seemed very concerned about your well-being; she is afraid that you will catch cold if you stay out here much longer."

The boy, who had gone back to sizing up the training dummy, looks back towards the servant, an exasperated look on his face.

"Mother doesn't understand," he protests. "Father promised that I could become a squire in a year or so if I worked extra hard and stopped bothering Osmont during his lessons." The last bit is a bit mumbled.

"And I have to!" he continues, his voice rising once more with the insistence. "If I don't become a squire then I'll never become a knight and then I'll never become a dragoon. And Dauvaunt will continue to get everything." He glances down at the lance held in his hands, at the well-worn wood and gleaming (if blunt) speartip. "Everyone goes on about him because he's the heir, even though I'm already far better with a lance than he is."

The servant listens to all this with the polite expression of someone waiting for another to finish speaking so they could pass off the problem to someone more qualified to deal with it. When the boy finally seems done, he speaks up once more.

"Mayhaps you should tell that to your mother, young Master," he suggests, all while silently praying to the Fury that the boy would take the bait.

Ivaurault pauses at this, his lips pursing in thought. Then he nods once. "Mayhaps I will," he declares. "But later." And then another crack! splits the air as he rushes towards the target, the spear of his lance impaling it in a perfect strike.

Defeated, the servant does exhale a soft sigh as he retreats into the house. He had tried. The matter was now up to the headstrong boy's parents.

He wished them luck.

[thedeca]

i will NEVER get over the bhaal murdering sceleritas fel scene, it goes so unbelievably hard to me

[bigbrainbiology]

My first offerings to the SVSSS fandom <3

[cloudbattrolls]

Devil's In the Details

Crista Condyl | 4.7 sweeps ago | Auresh Manor

“Stop doing it so rough, Zetine.” Crista complained, squirming in the hard wooden chair. “I don’t see what’s all the fuss for, anyway.”

They scrunched up their face as they looked in the wide mirror, and the brownblood sighed in that way she had where she made them feel they’d ruined her whole evening. They sat still again, grudgingly.

“I know you don’t, Riss.” She said, tired but trying to be soothing, tucking a strand of her long hair behind one of her small ears. It wasn’t working very well, and Crista had a hard time caring that she was trying.

“That’s why I’m doing it. You don’t get how it matters, you’re too young."

She plucked at their eyebrows again. Ow.

“The lord likes us girls to all look pretty.” She murmured. “You can get that, hm?”

“Ugh, we’re only lowbloods! Why does he care?” They complained, rolling their gray eyes. “And I’m six! And - "

They paused. Zetine did too, her rough hands hovering with the tweezers above their face, the old nicked instrument firm in her grasp like the promise of more pain.

“Careful.” She murmured. “You never know who’s listening. You don’t want…”

She trailed off, but Crista knew what she meant. Both of them looked at the changing room’s gray door, away from the old, somewhat cracked mirror the pair were using. Everyone knew some servants would tattle right to the lord’s butler. But you couldn’t be sure who, though the maroon had their suspicions.

“S’nothing like that.” The child muttered, looking at the floor. “I only meant. Well. What if I’m not a lady?”

Crista saw Zetine pause out of the corner of their eye, and she moved her hands and the tweezers away, biting her lip.

“You want to be, Riss.” She said urgently, her eyes - just filled in a few perigees ago - intense with urgency. “The lord’s much nicer to us. Besides, don’t you want to be stronger?”

Crista made a raspberry.

“Jessie’s got the thinkpan of a rotten apple and twice as many worms in her head, and Tethah whines like a colicky wriggler if she has to help with more chores than carrying water. Think that’s pretty bunk.”

Zetine sucked in a breath the way she did when she was trying not to laugh, and while the maroon couldn’t quite smile their ears twitched a bit in satisfaction.

“You’re going to get in trouble for that tongue of yours.” She said, shaking her head. “The lord won’t find it funny forever.”

Lord Auresh. It all came back to him and his cerulean authority, cold and hard as steel. Except when he laughed at a joke, briefly.

“You should hush about not being a girl.” She added. “If he finds out…”

“Why? What difference? You already pluck and comb and fuss at me so I look like a 'proper' girl.” They spat, bitter, gripping the wooden bars that made up the back of the chair, even though it hurt to grasp them too hard.

“Cause my eyebrows are too thick and my nose’s too big and I don’t smile right and my ears aren’t elegant. It’s never been fun, Zetty! When’s it start being fun?”

“It doesn’t.” She said, serious and pin-drop quiet. “Not for lowblood women. It’s about surviving, Riss. If you look nice enough, nobles won’t be so quick to punish you. You have to be careful to not look too nice, either…” she murmured, putting her free hand around her other wrist and looking to the side.

“Huh?” Crista said, confused, their ears flicking. “What d’you mean?”

Zetine seemed to have not heard, and she raised the tweezers again.

“Hold still.” She said in a harder tone, one the maroon knew not to argue with and had the bruises to prove it, so they silently settled themself back in the hard chair even though their legs were starting to go a bit numb.

Pluck, pluck, pluck. 

Crista sighed in relief when it was done, but groaned because now came makeup. Ew.

“No more fuss.” Said Zetine, now hard as she got when she told them to behave for highblooded visitors. 

Crista knew what would happen if they did. They knew how those rough hands felt when they were actually trying to cause pain.

So not a single further sound came from the rustblooded child.

[kotaerukoto]

You know now that I think about it, if one of Makoto’s Servants were to have a “dream” of his memories while they slept, they would see Makoto’s completely ordinary past. Anything traumatizing would only be from memories of the Grand Order, not his past before Chaldea. Guy had a good upbringing with a good family, even if he could be pretty unlucky sometimes.