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masterkirby · 8 months

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black metal & medievalism is the coziest thing possible

i love the musical storytelling here, it's one of my go-to albums when i just wanna dive into some musical world

this one is such a banger

as for the lyrics a fav is

fr:

Galopant dans l'or tragique du soir

Hérauts de la Flamme des Arts Noirs

Sous les grands arbres, chevauchée sans fin

Vers de nobles quêtes, course du destin

Capes noires, épées enflammées

Mains sanglantes, cœurs embrasés

Ils survolent les rimes et les vers

Et les combats où résonne le fer

Si on prête l'oreille, on les entend

Les soirs d'hiver dans les grands vents

Hurlant dans les blizzards, chevauchant les nuées

Ils apparaissent toujours à qui sait écouter

Le poète, l'âme repue, rêvera

Et le barde, pensif, composera

Le cavalier fera halte sous les grands pins

Et le guerrier rêvera de combats lointains

Explorant les horizons poétiques

Vers de nobles pays, des quêtes épiques

Des Royaumes de Cendres au Donjon Maudit

De l'homme assiégé au héros trahi

Dans l'humble noblesse d'un blason brûlé

Frappé en son centre d'un très large V

Sous le noble signe d'un cœur arraché

Dans l'ombre protectrice des arts noirs ailée

Les ménestriers représentent et chantent ce que les temps façonnent

Et dans leurs airs, ce sont les siècles avant eux qui résonnent

Passant, arrête-toi et écoute l'histoire, contemple et recueille-toi

Sur le Blason brûlé des Princes poètes d'autrefois

eng:

Galloping in the tragic gold in the evening

Heralds of the flame of black arts

Under the big trees, endless ride

Towards noble quests, destiny race

Black capes, fiery swords

My bloody, heartbreaking hearts

They fly over rhymes and worms

And the fights where iron resonates

If we listen to the ear, we hear them

Winter evenings in big winds

Screaming the blizzards, riding the clouds

They always appear to whom knows how to listen

The poet, the full soul, will dream

And the bard, thoughtful, will compose

The rider will stop under the big pines

And the warrior will dream of distant fights

Exploring poetic horizons

Towards noble countries, epic quests

Of the kingdoms of ash in the cursed dungeon

Of the besieged man to the betrayed hero

In the humble nobility of a burned coat of arms

Struck in the center of a very large V

Under the noble sign of a torn heart

In the protective shadow of the winged black arts

The mestriers represent and sing what the times shape

And in their air, it is the centuries before them that resonate

Passing, stop and listen to history, contemplate and collect yourself

On the burnt coat of arms of the princes-poets of yesteryear

#black metal #medievalism #music recommendation #french #favorite albums #Véhémence #Ordalies #Spotify #Bandcamp

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cardos-talking · 2 months

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I love this sling/bow hybrid that mudarchers from munch's oddysee have. I know they don't use actual ammunition with them but Ordalie uses arrows sometimes

#sketch post #meech #ordalie doesn't have his own hashtag he's gonna go with meech lol

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madamemachikonew · 8 months

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As part of my Neuvillette-adjacent reading, I learned about Hans Talhoffer's combat manual of 1467. It depicts the numerous methods and types of judicial duel and...uh yeah. Not for the faint-hearted.

#holy fuck #Hans Talhoffer #Fechtbuch #ordalie #even women could duel men!#neuvillette #writing process

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drondskaath · 11 months

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Miserere Luminis | Ordalie | 2023

Canadian Atmospheric Black Metal

Artwork by Adam Burke (Nightjar)

#Miserere Luminis #Ordalie #Canada #Canadian Black Metal #Black Metal #Atmospheric Black Metal #music #band #art #artwork #artist #Adam Burke #Nightjar #Sepulchral Productions #Bandcamp

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virnalorentz · 2 years

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LUNE POURPRE encore et toujours par-delà les mers, au Canada, sur chapters.indigo.ca 🇨🇦🇨🇵🇨🇦🇨🇵🇨🇦🇨🇵🇨🇦

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anolis3 · 3 months

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"La Dernière Geste", by Morgan of Glencoe.

"Elle venait de la Terre. Elle, venait de l'Océan. Elle était l'enfant du Soleil. Elle, la petite sœur de la Lune. Elle était promise au monde au temps. Elle, vouée à l'univers et à l'éternité. Des ténèbres naquit leur amitié. De leur amitié naquit La Dernière Geste.", from La Dernière Geste, première chant.

#fantasy #french litterature #french books #steampunk #la dernière geste #morgan of glencoe #dans l'ombre de paris #l'héritage du rail #ordalie #goodreads #booklr #reading #moodboard #aesthetic

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inlustris-infensus · 6 months

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Miserere Luminis – Ordalie (2023)

#album cover #miserere luminis #ordalie #canadian metal #black metal #metal #fire #album art

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nc-vb · 9 months

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𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐟𝐮𝐥, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐥𝐝

it is said that distance makes the heart grow fonder. instead, it only proves to make the water levels rise a few millimeters.

pairing -> neuvillette x gn!reader

warnings -> sfw, sad neuvi & reader, smooching

notes -> reader's position is a non-canon one

character mentions -> lady furina, fontaine npcs, non-canon melusine characters

wc -> 2.1k

It wasn’t so often that the paths of you and your lover could so seamlessly cross.

As one might assume, governing a nation is not a walk in the park, nor is it a part-time position. It is a twenty-four-seven, midnight-to-midnight, no-matter-how-small-the-crisis job that someone has to take responsibility for— with Monsieur Neuvillette, the Chief Justice, leading the charge of each court proceeding and Lady Furina as its grandest witness, and you, the Maison Ordalie's Directeur Général, helping them to uphold Fontaine’s values and protecting its honour from outside the marbled walls of the Opera Epiclese, Fontaine is a tightly-run ship that seldom allows for its men to enjoy much free time.

Though when it did, finally exiting the realm of your job responsibilities only then meant having to catch up on your neglected home responsibilities— tackling the towers of only partially rinsed dishes; taking out the trash you just knew would be stinking up your foyer since you’d put it there three days ago (which had been the last time you’d even been inside your home); rewashing the load of laundry you’d run out of time to hang up to dry and now was, most likely, moulding from being left in basket, still damp. Ah, and there’s probably so much more you’d been forgetting about.

This cyclic routine of yours had become nauseating a long time ago, only proving capable of transfiguring your already sour mood into something brazenly foul. Typically, there were very few things to exist that could improve it again, but the soft, muffled knocking on your front door by one of your sweet Melusine neighbours when she realized you’d finally returned home, fortunately, is one of those few things.

More often than not, she would bake once the weekend began, knowing you to be around at least long enough to be able to consume perhaps one of her newly learned confections. Somedays, you’d even been lucky enough to sit and enjoy them together whilst enjoying the views from under your shared garden’s gazebo. Being that you lived on the first floor of a three-floored pied-à-terre with three other Melusine living above you, who had also been found lucky to have much more manageable lifestyles, they often cared for the plants of the garden when you could not.

Even luckier for you, though, was having such kind neighbours that would go out of their way to take care of those aforementioned chores for you. Garden tended; garbage bags mysteriously vanished from the inside stoop; dishes sparkling clean and put away in their respective cupboards; laundry thought a lost cause having been hung up, dried, and folded, awaiting your return for them to be returned to their drawers— none of this had been you. Elsie, your second floor neighbour, had been the culprit, you learn, having rounded up her sisters Elie and Eloie two days prior to your return to surprise you.

“Have you seen Monsieur Neuvillette lately?” Elsie inquires, looking up to you from her place on your stoop. When you step aside to let her in, she shakes her head, lavender-coloured ears whipping about. “I won’t be staying. I only came to say hello and to give these to you.”

“Oh, I see,” you say, accepting the circular tin she raises toward you. Cracking it open a few inches, you smile at the soft treats. “Madeleines! Thank you, Elzie. And, to answer your question, no… I haven’t seen him lately… not even for work.”

“You’re quite welcome. Please find time to share them with the Monsieur today, then. Sedene mentioned he looked restless this morning.”

Without missing a beat, your heart skips one of its own, and your expression twists habitually guiltily. You know full well your absence from him, and vice versa, isn’t to be helped, and that the two of you have had this same conversation many times over. But it never proves to help whenever someone else points out either of your miseries.

You’d always thought the Palais Mermonia to be particularly cold, in company’s sense. It never mattered that it was always full of people, of employees, and even of Lady Furina’s raucous, nails-on-a-chalkboard cackle of a laugh, because you knew its Chief Justice much too well. In spite of his assurances that he would be alright, mind occupied by having to organize new cases and sort out the old ones, it wouldn’t be too long of a time later that you found the skies overcast, and yourself drenched by a sudden downpour.

You supposed, after saying your farewells to Elsie, locking your front door, and making your way to the other end of the Court of Fontaine, that today would be no different. Of course, you remembered to carry your parasol on you this time, accompanied by the tin of fresh-baked madeleines you promised Elsie to eat up. Today, the sky was shining blue, quite literally only minutes ago. So, either something sad or distressing has crossed his path, or, he’d been feeling sentimental again, because it’s raining again.

At the very least, you hope the cause for it to be the latter. This way, it can easily be remedied by you appearing before him, rather than him being consumed by the details of a case so heavily, and for an unspecified period of time. And there have been too many of these as of late that compared to last year’s weather, one might consider the possibility of that prophecy coming true just a little sooner.

Clutching the cookies tighter to you and keeping a firm grip on the handle of your parasol, you hasten across the bridge of the Court Region Waterway untoward the Palais Mermonia, greeting Bruneau and Liath and Plessia as you pass. The main doors are heavy, but even with your arms full, you manage to pry one of them open enough to enter the building.

You don’t both to carry your umbrella with you — it would just be yet another mess the building’s staff would have to trail after you for to clean — and instead shove it into the corner to let it drip there, telling the one guard that you would return for it, and them saluting you in acknowledgement.

Inside the Palais Mermonia has always been a plethora of people, staff and guards and visitors alike, but it is as you’d said— there’s a certain degree of emptiness to it that unsettles you whenever you visit here. Perhaps the grave amount of case files that sat in the archives surrounding Monsieur Neuvillette’s office cast such a dreary spell over the place; having been the one to compile many of them, yourself, for his records, you know firsthand just how dark some of their contents had been— to have to pass those off and share them with your lover had been your major grievance for your position. There’d been nothing you hated more than sitting in during his readings and seeing his expression change from the joy of having you appear to him, to the rage and sorrow of taking in the details of a new case. In those moments, you made sure to hold him a little tighter, a little closer, and speak just a little sweeter to him, a little softer.

The rain would, eventually, subside.

You push open the door to his office as gently as possible, and shut it just as carefully so as not to startle him. Without looking first to confirm, you know that he sits at his desk, pouring over the day’s files and records while it pours outside. His stoicism masked the obvious, though at least, this had been to you only— something was weighing heavily enough on his mind that it’d begun to affect the weather outside. Spending enough time with the man made this easy to tell.

“Neuvillette,” you softly call to him when he’d yet to look up. He jerks slightly in his seat, stiff shoulders losing their tension upon recognizing your voice, and the corner of his lips rise before his eyes can even meet yours.

“My love.”

If having you appear in a room filled with such disheartening unkindness is his relief, yours had always been the advent of a smile on Neuvillette’s face. A rare glimpse of the peace you often find yourself daydreaming over while away, the rush of pure joy you feel at the sight of your lover relishing your presence is nearly akin to the blessing of the gods— you only embrace him tightly enough and hope this feeling reaches him.

Nose pressed into the side of your head, hands and arms cradling you almost impossibly close to him, he breathes you in as deeply as physically possible— yes, his gesture promises.

You raise your chin from his chest and peer up at him, grin lazed and tired but pleased all the same.

“You were finally released from your duties?”

“If it were easy to delegate them to my juniors, it might’ve taken less time to escape,” you muse, hands sliding down his robes to claim his hands in yours— he squeezes them gently, grateful. “No one seems to know how to write a proper report anymore; I feel like I’m grading homework.” Neuvillette laments at the sudden shift in your expression, its complete opposite serving to dim the light in your eyes. By the way your grip tightens beneath his fingers, he supposes it must have little to do with your subordinates, after all.

“It’s… been raining for so long now,” you mumble into him, cookie tin forgotten atop his desk. “I tried to hurry to you, I-I…”

Neuvillette’s hand shifts along one of yours, quick to fit thin, nimble fingers in between your trembling ones. He lifts it, and presses your palm and fingertips into the smooth, porcelain coolness of his cheek— few words are found necessary, you’d both once agreed, as he’d always been a man of sterling gestures over forced sentimentality. In each glance, each touch, each curve of his lips upward, his vehemence never went unnoticed; it’d simply been his brand of love— demure and chaste, but abundant. There’d been no questioning his intention.

“I would sooner give up my position if it meant I could stay at your side at all times, if it meant you wouldn’t cry so much. If it meant you wouldn’t suffer alone.” Neuvillette sighs, a would-be defeated sound if not for remembering who he was standing with. “I… feel useless on days like these when I’m not with you.”

“Justice cannot relent so long as villainy works around the clock. It is our sworn duty to see such justice prevail, after all.” Neuvillette swipes a thumb over your lip, and subconsciously, you lean into his palm almost delightedly. “And you have done so beautifully, and without malice. Every word written in those reports from your juniors, while, written juvenilely, speak of your fairness. Your impartiality. Your ability to see both the truth and the good in all.” He turns his hand, pressing his lips into your palm. “It is admirable. It is my pride for you. It is why, as much as I wish you could stay at my side, as you said, I hope you can see the value and honour you bring in helping to protect Fontaine. I can’t imagine many else doing so well as you do.”

You raise your free hand back up to his chest, and push. A fraction of a single second is spent wide-eyed and confused until Neuvillette’s legs hit one of the many couches within the four walls of his office, and he is forced off-balanced into its plush. Your other hand gone unrelinquished, you fall with him, knees parted to either side of his and dipped deep into the cushion; Neuvillette’s breath hitches unnoticeably, yet at your sudden embolden proximity, his pale cheeks burn with vermillion.

“I’m supposed to be comforting you, you know,” your murmur.

A kiss to his temple, to the swell atop his cheek, to the button of his nose, and to the cleft of his lip— you lower yourself into his lap, parted lips dropping to slot between his and hands rising to thread into his strands of falling starlight, pulling him ever closer into you. It’s not enough, simply consuming him. You only wish to drown his sorrows, by whatever means necessary and however possible. If this means only having mere moments to appear before him, to deliver him sweets and treats of various kinds — not including yourself, of course — and holding him as tenderly as you do now for what seconds you must have left before having to leave again—

Tongue posed at his lower lip, your gaze is brought to the side and through the glass of the window. The rain. It stopped.

“And I can promise… you’re doing a fine job of it, my love.”

#favoniuslibrary #neuvillette x yn #neuvillette x y/n #neuvillette x reader #neuvillette fluff #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact fluff #crying bc i'm posting this at 445am and i have to be up for work in 2 hours but i wanted it DONE tho there was more i wanted to say in it..#hope neuvi liked the cookies tho #✦ nc vb.#neuvillette

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jellalism · 6 months

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Wriothesley x GN!Reader fic: To soften the pain

You're in a depressive episode. Wriothesley comforts you.

Word count: 645

Genre: Comfort

Content warnings: Depression; mention of a meal.

Notes: Reader is gender neutral.

Read below or on AO3.

“Wriothesley?” You step through the large doors and move towards the stairs leading to his office.

“Hi dear,” he responds before you’re even within his field of vision. When you’re high enough up the staircase, you look over the Duke’s desk. Wriothesley is sitting behind it, handling some papers, not looking up.

There’s a surprisingly large amount of paperwork that comes with running the Fortress. You once asked whether the amount of bureaucracy in the Fortress of Meropide couldn’t be reduced. After all, it’s an autonomous entity and is not required to follow the regulations of the Palais Ordalie. Wriothesley had laughed and explained that, even though it’s formally autonomous, the Fortress still collaborates with the Palais, and so must deliver the documents that it requires. Its bureaucracy is inescapable. You often find him in the position he is now, hunched over files.

He doesn’t look up as you enter the office. “What brings you here? Have something to ask, or did you just miss me?” His tone is light and teasing.

You’re not sure how to answer that. You did miss him, but it would be wrong to reduce the reason for your visit to just that.

At your silence, he finally gazes up at you and looks at your face. His expression grows serious and he stands up, walks to you, and places his strong hands on both your shoulders. “What’s wrong? You look exhausted.”

“I am.” You want to speak at a normal volume, but all your throat produces is a whisper. “I feel like shit.”

At those words, Wriothesley pulls you close. For a few moments, he doesn’t say anything; he just lets you soak in his warmth. He feels safe. “I’ll clear out the rest of my day for you. I want to be with you tonight.” He kisses the top of your head.

“Are you sure? You don’t have to go that far…”

“I want this too, you know. You’re not the only one who’s been missing their partner.” He holds you a little tighter. “Haah… I know it’s been only a few days, but I really wanted to hold you again like this.”

You smile slightly — something you haven’t done in a few days. “I missed you,” you mumble. Your voice is muffled as your face is buried in his chest.

“I missed you too, love.” His voice is soft and calming. With one hand, he plays with your hair. “Do you want to tell me what makes you feel so bad?”

You disentangle yourself a little bit from him so it’s easier to breathe and speak. “Not sure,” you mutter. “Sometimes, the depression just hits, you know? Well, maybe you don’t know. I hope you don’t know.”

“I don’t know, but I can imagine.” He still holds you in his embrace. “Is there anything I can do to make it easier? Anything, from a hug to the more practical things.” You’ve talked about depression with Wriothesley before, and he knows it makes it harder to take good care of yourself.

“Maybe… If it’s not too much trouble… You can help me clean the dishes?” It feels silly to ask for something stupid like this. What kind of pathetic loser needs help doing something so basic?

Instead of answering, Wriothesley lifts your chin and presses a kiss to your lips. “I see you talking yourself down. But nobody gets to insult my lovely partner. Not even you.” He sounds stern, but his smile is a teasing one. “I’ll help you clean the dishes and anything else you need. Later tonight. For now… How about we get something to eat above ground? I think you could use a good meal.”

You nod. He stands up, dragging you along with it. “Alright then. It’s a date night now. I promise you you’ll feel better by the end of the day.”

#genshin impact #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley #genshin x reader #wriothesley x you #genshin x you #my writing #you may be wondering: what is that banner?#it's very simple #i love his arms and i love his pecs #mmmmuscle

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