#support: matthias

[lordgaspard]

♡ "It's been quite some time, Lonato."

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"Likewise, Matthias."

[midnightcrows]

“Ninth was my name,” said the new arrival. “Ninth was my hearth, and my homeland. Here have I come at your calling. None may return from the River unless he be bidden by blood-rite; tell me, why have I been drawn here?”

Art print store here!

2025 note: you can find the other illustrated parts here : )

[princeofopenness]

This was certainly not what Alfonse had come to Garreg Mach for. It was, in fact, quite difficult to imagine that this would at all benefit him. If anything, the stress would only take years off of Alfonse's life. He tended to be good under pressure, that much was true, but this was a kind of pressure he was not at all used to. The pressure Alfonse was accustomed to was thinking quickly in battle, changing his plans to protect others. He wasn't used to being yelled at over foodstuffs. No, this was not at all within his element, and with each insult hurled his way, Alfonse found himself teetering ever closer to the edge of his rapidly-fraying sanity.

A moment's respite finally arrived, and Alfonse took every merciful second to himself. Slipping away into the back of the store, he eased himself onto the ground with a heavy sigh. He hugged his knees close to his chest, burying his head against his arms and trying to ignore the sounds of the world around him for just a few seconds. He needed to center himself. He needed to just... get away from it.

How long Matthias Gautier had stood above him, Alfonse was uncertain. When he lifted his head to see the square head of Sylvain's father pointed down at him, Alfonse practically jumped. He was on his feet in an instant (perhaps a bit too quickly in fact, because the world swam around him for a brief moment), pretending that he was on his way back to work. He knew it wasn't a lie he could maintain, though.

"...Margrave Gautier, I presume," Alfonse sighed. He wasn't particularly familiar with the man, unlike almost every other visitor to this Garreg Mach. Matthias was one of the few here who had yet to visit Askr's halls. Although Alfonse was aware of him through the records in the Askran library, this was his first time seeing the man in the flesh, not counting the scarce glimpses he'd caught of Matthias earlier in the shift amidst all of the chaos of the customers. "Please pay me no mind. I was just taking a second to collect myself. I'll be back to work promptly, I promise."

You Get To Drive Away.

Authority +1 || Sir Donald's @cielenruine

[manikas-whims]

Wesper feat. Matthias 😂

[kaylee68]

Six of Crows AU where Jesper brings an emotional support goat over from his Fathers farm and it’s just there for the entire duology.

Just imagine Nina, Kaz, Inej and Matthias escaping from Hellgate and as they approach the boat Nina is like.

“Is that one of the escape animals?”

And Kaz just sighs in annoyance and goes “no that’s just Milo”

And Jesper is just grinning holding his goat.

Or when Inej wakes up from being stabbed and she’s with Nina and Jesper walks in and she’s just like.

“You brought the goat!?!?”

And he’s like “I thought we’d need some comforting” and hands her a goat to pet.

Poor Wylans just constantly staring at it until he finally works up the courage to be like “so what’s up with the goat?”

And Jesper who infamously can’t take anything seriously is just like “what do you mean?” Completely deadpan as though bringing a goat to a prison heist is a completely normal thing to do and it sends Wylan spiralling.

Matthais already thinks the Crows are weird and the goat is just one more thing to confirm his suspicions, but Jesper is incredibly insistent that petting a goat is the number one way to alleviate stress and he eventually gives in and pets the goat.

It bites him.

And it only gets worse after they make it out.

Kuwei just has to hear Jesper lament about all his struggles to this goat for hours. The others are already used to it, but by the time they make it back to Ketterdam he’s seriously having second thoughts about why he finds this man attractive.

And Kaz has been half contemplating murdering it since Jesper joined the Dregs and bought the Goat along with him, but unfortunately everyone’s grown strangely attached, him included.

And Kaz won’t admit it, but he did grow up on the farm and they did have animals and the goat reminds him a little of when he was a kid and times were a little bit better. So he pretends to be completely and utterly against the goat like those dads when you get a dog acting like they don’t snuggle up next to it every night and the Crows figure out pretty quickly that Kaz does in fact love this goat.

So they go to confront Van Eck and they just bring the goat, cause why not?

And obviously Wylans dad is like. What’s up with the goat. And all the present crows stare at him like he’s the crazy one for thinking there’s something wrong with the goat.

6 of Crows + Jespers emotional support goat.

[apricotstop]

Got back into hatari’s music recently

[heavy-draw]

That sentiment from him does bring a chuckle from her, her expression shifting into something slightly more fond than she would normally wear. There's a certain Knight that occupies a good chunk of her heart (unfortunately) that she'd take great amusement from making into a dopey looking dog, and the temptation to see the look on her face upon receiving it is far too tempting to pass up. "Alright then. As for mine? I'll let you guess once we get further." Shamir knows it'll become painfully obvious once she picks up one of the little Thunderbrand replicas, but she'll cross that bridge when she comes to it. There's several children that are curiously watching them as they pick up their selections, the golden dog having the same silly grin as her partner does. It nearly drags a laugh from her, but she manages to stifle it with a cough before surveying the choices for clothing that were displayed-- it's a bit of a stretch, but there's some knightly looking armor that seems to be close enough... adorned with a white cape and some silly looking golden accents on the front of the "chest plate". "A fox, huh? Oddly fitting."

@cielenruine

you're (not) my dad

Forge-A-Bear with @cielenruine

[rafent]

And then the other Eagle with these same deep crimson eyes- though almost an exact opposite from Nel. Instead of jet-black hair, there was ivory white that gleamed against sunlight almost forming a halo above his head. Blues were replaced with fierce shades of pink, and there was something about their faces that made Sylvain wonder if they were related in one way or another.

Siblings, perhaps? It wouldn’t surprise him, considering how they taught for the same house. “Professor Rafal! How are you doing? I was told you visited Gautier some moons ago, and while the conditions weren’t the best…haha, I hope you still found something about it to like! I’ll care for it in the future, so.”

Once he approached the man, Sylvain made his intentions clear by first handing out a pastel pink box. Under the lid was a framboise tartelette with a layer of cheesecake- a treat considered rather noble in Faerghus due to how sweet it was, making it quite expensive. By this point Sylvain knew the professor seemed to have a knack for sweets, so he figured he’d appreciate that more than flowers. “I was thinking, the Ethereal Ball is coming, and I find you a really interesting guy! You also look quite strong. So, would you like to come with me? Like a pair? I really wanna talk to you more!”

At odds with easy expression, a pinched look of acknowledgement spun Rafal on his heel to receive the friendly young man. Sparsely encountered due to their inherent differences in house, Sylvain was not a common sighting in the Black Eagles classroom if at all, but Rafal possessed of him an impression at the very least; one much to do with the tall but no less grounded tales of his rutting perfidy. Going even further than mere impression was the correlation to both a city and an acquaintance.

"Sylvain. That is correct, and Gautier was. . .pleasant enough, I suppose. Rife with pockets of conflict when last I visited, but I imagine much of its troubles have desisted by now." Resilience was the nature of all living things, after all; the once beset monastery for one, the chaos-ridden Gautier territory for another, and far, far away perhaps even a dead world tipped over the edge of ruin. Slowly made to stand on its own feet with the same grace. The same blooming return to flowers.

But as if thought and reality had merged into one, the waft of a delectable scent bid Rafal blink with surprise. Sweet as flowers, or merely substituted in their place unbeknownst to their receiver. "Well, yes. Of course I am. . ." an unconscious twitch of pleased expression, "quite strong." Bright-eyed interest; wavering of spirit akin to bobbing fishing lure; no doubt the joint application of lavish gift and compliment would have succeeded in reeling in any other.

However, a Fell Dragon was not easily taken and this one least of all.

"But I fail to see why I must go to the ball with you simply to talk. We may do so at any time. Your request is largely impractical." Like guzzling from a lake when a cup of water sat within reach of both convenience and hand. Whether oblivious or sensible, the dragon shook his head with a sway of silvery hair. "Furthermore, I must say. If I am to 'pair' with a Gautier. . ."

Speaking with Sylvain about Gautier city had brought to mind the exchanges with Matthias situated in the same moon; Matthias who at that uncertain time in the bunker expressed the desire to search for his son. Matthias who, more importantly, was 'quite strong' - a figure of Rafal's ample approval unbowed by fang or fury.

"—between the sire and the son, the sire is more to my taste."

[skepticalcatfrog]

(These Violent Delights, Chapter 38)

(Crooked Kingdom, Chapter 39)

There's something here.

[jinx-the-jester]

Collecting my crows like Pokémon cards

(Done on Ibispaint)

[yukyunotabibito]

"Sadden you?" Nasir cannot help but laugh. He imagines there are very few in this world who would actually be sad were he to die, very few who would mourn his death. He doubts that this man would be one of those scant few, "Don't mourn for someone you don't know. It's not worth the time, or the energy."

But what did Nasir know of mourning? He did all he could to avoid it. His wife, his liege, his own child. He put himself as far from it as he could, distanced himself to keep the pain from infesting his heart. Nasir Lambros did not mourn. It simply was not the kind of man he was.

"It is a last resort for me, that's all. Do not expect me to reveal such a card. I keep it very close to my chest after all," Nasir smirks. Sure, it would be all too easy for him to end the hunters right here and now were he willing to, but this was his greatest secret. He had no reason to reveal it here in this foreign land without first being pushed to the brink, to the very edge of the cliff with no other choice, "I don't care what the Church thinks of me. I am not from this land, I bear no loyalty to them. If I must slight them, then so be it. As for injury... such paltry weapons cannot harm me in any meaningful way."

Beorc and their little sticks and metal were not a worry of his. He could take whatever damage they decided to lay upon his body with relative ease. If he had to sacrifice for someone else, at least he could rest assured that any harm would not be permanent.

"I suppose you'll just have to believe me. If you don't though, that's not a concern of mine."

When I Said Trolley Problem This Isn't What I Meant

Anniversary | Lance +1

[egittae]

[ 𝐂𝐎𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐑 ] ― sender bites receiver hard enough to draw blood (nsfw bats eyelashes 🥺) Finding an empty hall was an art he had long mastered. Between those of Garreg Mach or Castle Fhirdiad, he knew most places. The Abyss was new territory, any slip up would have a passerby turn the corner and catch them. Yet teeth sunk into skin and savored the taste. Careful not to get too close, skirting around the edges of the places he knew would raise the other man’s voice. “We’re far from Fhirdiad, and you’ve no title you must hide to preserve. It’s been far too long since we played this game.”

(no longer accepting) lowkey-nsfw, just in case! thyre just freaky ig

His back hit the wall with a sigh- interrupted as teeth dug into his skin and pain flared up his neck and down his clavicles. It was an interesting position to be in, cornered in one of the Abyss’ many twisting hallways, just away from a torch’s warm light, plagued by the thrilling notion that the sound of steps approaching could range from a stray cat or dog all the way to a passersby catching them red handed. At worst, it could even be one of his students- a situation Lambert couldn’t even begin to imagine as to how he could explain to them.

Because the fiery pain from the bite didn’t call upon his crest for retaliation- to push the threat away and choose between escaping or ensuring there is no longer anything to be concerned by.

No, that pain sent his heart racing.

He had long forgotten how he even found himself in this situation. A walk with Matthias turned into tugging one another into spiraling corridors, hands pulling and yanking until his chestplate was detached and the buttons of his collar were pulled open to expose skin. Sighs and grunts and everything in between as Lambert tried to choose between reprimanding his companion for being a ridiculous, impatient deviant who couldn’t at least drag him to his own room and basking in the whole ordeal while at least trying to keep an eye out for the end of the hall.

“Thank you for the reminder.” His words had bite, but more of a tease than actual threat. “Is this how you hope…to drag your king back? By the teeth?”

Red-bitten lips curled into a smirk as he reached Matthias’ ear. “Like a dog?”

Now it was his turn to dye his lips crimson, digging onto the other man’s neck.

[slankyyy-revs-the-world]

Been playing through 3Hopes atm… Finished rawdogging Chp5 Green Ally dialogue for Rancid Gautier Man and am on Chp7 of Azure Gleam

Ngl I really love how Hopes has way more Fodlani NPCs who are just guys in your army and you can hear their opinions about the current events of the game…

Recent example are two camp NPCs in Chp7; one NPC calls Dimitri stupid for returning to Fhirdiad while a priestess NPC worries about Rhea’s wellbeing in Camulus

I also love that in battle, when you defeat enemy forces - they have defeat dialogue ranging from ‘aw fuck I lost this sucks :(‘, ‘oh god I can never show my face to my comrades’ or ‘you’ll pay for this!! but also I don’t wanna die so I’ll run like a little bitch’

The world feels so much more alive and that it exists beyond just the named characters

[cielenruine]

"Ah, my lord, is everything alright?" Deirdre asks quite timidly. She does not want to admit she had been eavesdropping. Though, does it truly count as eavesdropping when she had no choice in the matter? What should she have done? Cover her ears? Still, she was curious and she did listen. She still is curious.

She should not be so nosy but, she cannot help herself. "I did not realize you also had two sons."

It could have gone better but it could have gone worse. His mood was shot to hell regardless. Hiding that behind a tight lip and eyes that said nothing at all was easy...and in some ways he was glad that she was the first he'd have to speak to about it. "Professor...forgive me for that shameful display. It was entirely unbecoming of us to act in such a way...but the fault lay with me. I should have deescalated things much sooner." Also. He hums. "You've another son aside from Seliph?" He tries his best to find his words as he looks out to the ongoing battle. "I...by blood he is my son but he's no claim of mine anymore." He heaves out a sigh and smiles despite it. "Matters like that are simply the worst. No amount of love or care can cease the jealousy that comes with some things."

[knightofgalatea]

There were a lot of things Ingrid was good at. Battle planning and prepping. Sword fighting and sparring. Tending to the horses in the stable. Flying her pegasus Rhiannon.

It was becoming increasingly obvious that taking care of children was not one of them.

In theory it made perfect sense. You feed a child when they’re hungry. You soothe a child when they’re upset. You play with a child when they’re full of energy. You introduce a child to swordplay once they can stand without support.

In practice, however, it was a different matter entirely.

Ingrid had been handed the magical baby doll that she had been assigned to take, and had enough time to remark at how lifelike it was as it cooed and waved its tiny fat hands at her before it had begun to wail. 

She’d tried rocking it, bouncing it, speaking softly to it. Everything the professors leading the class had gone over before distributing the dolls she’d tried to do. But to absolutely no avail.

It was like the baby was immune to comfort, like it yearned for violence only.

“You’ve uh-” She alternated between rocking and holding the baby by her shoulder, patting its back like that might solve things. “You’ve got some strong lungs on you.”

A fat little fist smacked her in the face for that. Which was fair; she probably deserved that.

Wincing as the baby grabbed hold of her braid, she readjusted her hold to cradle it in the crook of her arm, struggling to untangle her hair from its fist.

Her mind buzzed as she fought to free herself from the tiny demon. None of her books had ever said much about children at all. Heroes and knights and kings saved children, certainly, but she didn’t remember every reading about the details on how to actually take care of one.

She was beginning to regret agreeing to take part in this new program. What business did she have trying to learn to care for a child anyways.

The baby hiccuped, its round face red from screaming. She didn’t dare try to hope, but her heart began lifting all the same.

The wails turned to whimpers, which in turn became sniffling and hiccuping, which became quiet babbling as the baby finally began settling.

Holding her breath, Ingrid dared to pry her hair from the baby’s fist. Her very first victory.

Her legs were shaking as though she had been through battle, and it took many long, deep breaths to steady her body and her mind. She could not let her guard down yet.

There had been a reason she had agreed to this program. She had wanted to be here, as ludicrous as the idea of it now was.

The reason had been simple: Dimitri often worked with children, playing with them and teaching them the basics of sword fighting.

Although they had grown up together, the distance between them was wide as a chasm. She had thought that if she could learn how to care for children, perhaps she could offer to help Dimitri with the ones he tutored. Perhaps it could be a way to bridge that yawning canyon between them. To make it passable, something that could be crossed.

She sighed. She was determined to see this through, but that meant she was going to have to figure out how to handle the wailing demon she now held.

Ingrid looked up, now that she was no longer under attack, scanning the room. One of the professors assigned to the program was more family than educator, and she needed a familiar face if she was going to survive this exercise.

“Um.” She felt a little ridiculous, carefully lifting the now-calm baby by way of explanation. “Matthias? Do you have any suggestions on what to do?”

@cielenruine

Rock-a-bye baby(doll)

Faith +1

[crevassier]

[ 𝐒𝐎𝐅𝐓 ] ― sender wraps a soft blanket around receiver’s shoulders Warm, not enough to confuse his body, yet not so little that it did not keep the warmth in. The façade that had slowly become his everyday had been undone at the sight. Any cloak or cloth that he could remove to warm him had been thrown off and promptly wrapped around the boy. When had been the last time he held him so close? Sylvain's face rested under his and the chill on contact left his hands timid. Timid as they were, they would hold as tightly as they could> "Sylvain......" He needed him to speak...say something...move any more than the tiny whimpers and hiccups that seemed all he was capable of now. The trembling was terrifying. "Say...once we return to Fhirdiad...to see Dimitri and the king....you'll join me for a game...won't you?" Finally they were sat by the fire and he made sure to hold Sylvain tight, even if he was starting to get hot from the heat of it. "If you best me...I'll make sure to take you to the bakery...any treat you could want, so long...as you win of course." His hand gently held damp locks of hair, soon resting over his ears. There was too much commotion...he had already had his fill of that this day. "Pull through...you must..." He had regained that composure, in his face at least...but his voice couldn't betray the desperation in his heart...nor could his arms stop themselves from holding the boy as if even a bit of hesitation might see him simply slip away...

(tw: mentions of domestic abuse between siblings, mentions of death)

Sylvain had an idea of what death most likely felt like. He knew of soldiers and knights who marched to war and ended up slain by a blade, arrow or burst of magic- and of course he knew of disease and famine. But to the young heir, he always saw death in the form of a wave of cold, slowly rising as it freezes and takes one’s body and soul. Even if one is burnt alive, Sylvain wondered if cold wasn’t what received them as they crossed the river of death. Ironic, considering how the Goddess was always portrayed as a warmly-lit divine maiden, with a gentle and nurturing expression on her face. 

But then he also imagined that the Goddess would come after the rush of cold- her embrace, or the flames of hell. The moment one met their end they’d be plunged in freezing cold and left to wait and see if they’d be touched by the Mother’s comforting hands or licked by the blazes of the damned.

For a boy whose age remained in the single digits, he had already created a solid idea of what death would be like- not because he fantasized about it, but because his brain had already begun to face it as a possibility that winter afternoon, arms tightly wrapped around his own knees as he no longer had the strength to tilt his neck to look up. The shallow water offered no risks of drowning, instead feeding on his body heat until he couldn’t even feel pain radiating from his injuries anymore, or feel his fingers, or toes.

He had it coming, really. He should’ve never accepted taking a walk with Miklan, but then again, he’d drag him outside regardless of his answer. And even if Sylvain kicked and screamed, it would only delay the inevitable. Even as his brother asked him to look over the well’s edge, saying there was something interesting at the bottom, Sylvain should’ve known that his brother would never do that without a purpose. If anything he was lucky that the fall didn’t break his neck- he had only broken his ankle. Or at least that’s what he could tell before the cold made it impossible to even feel it.

At the bottom of that well, Sylvain had begun to accept it- that’s it. He couldn’t fight it even if he wanted to, his jaw shivering and his lips too numb for him to even scream for help or cry. Nestling his head on his knees as he curled into himself, a futile attempt to preserve body heat, he waited.  The cold he feared, it was his end. He was going to die.

The next thing he knew, there was warmth and he was almost sure that he had met his end. But instead of a world of light beyond the sky, it was nighttime and above was a ceiling of stone and wood. As soft golden eyes struggled to peek through ginger eyelashes, hints of his location slowly made themselves known. The sound and light from a fireplace to his side, the blurry shapes of furniture illuminated by moonlight, the smell of wood and leather- home. 

And instead of the Goddess’ loving embrace, he felt warm blankets and pelts restricting his movements, and a hand caressing his head. A hand much too big to belong to the Goddess or his mother, and much too caring to belong to Miklan. His father was the one who cradled his body, whispering things Sylvain was still too dazed to fully understand but in a tone he never heard from the man before. Matthias was always so serious, so distant. He wasn’t cruel like his brother, but he wasn’t soft and gentle like his mother. A stern, solid pillar of strength and support whose love was expressed by urging him to become stronger and more skilled- or so the young boy had chosen to interpret his father’s absence as. 

It felt easier to accept it that way, at least.

“Dad…” The battle to force his voice out was won, earning him an almost whimper. Staying awake was a daunting challenge in itself, so anything more than that would be at the price of whatever efforts his tiny body could provide. 

He didn’t really know what to do or say. “...sorry…” Perhaps this, for his carelessness. Father spent so much time teaching him strategy only for him to fall for such a predictable move. Matthias would surely be angry at him for this later. 

Or perhaps it was an apology for his own selfishness, as he chose to use whatever energy he had left to try to enjoy the embrace provided by his father. The trembling slowly dissipated as his breathing stabilized into a steady rhythm, eyes blinking lazily, staring at nothing in particular. 

He truly was something else, to act this spoiled. But the last time his father had hugged him like that had been so many moons ago, that perhaps nearly dying was worth it after all.