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Chode Fic is getting pushed back another day because GUESS WHO WENT TO THE ER FOR HEART PALPITATIONS TONIGHT

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why am i so haunted

sorry hold on i couldnt find the gif I wanted but I found this one instead, why is he so cunty?

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Oh for some reason I never connected the dots and I thought Emmrich was STANDING over the sarcophagus, not kneeling. I was like welp, Rook's strong. They can pull a grown man into a chest-height sarcophagus through sheer horny force of will. Unrelated but I have no depth perception and failed geometry in tenth grade.

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if you have a niche sport/job/hobby it’s your sacred duty to make the most specific incomprehensible AUs with the characters you like. no more coffeeshop aus no more college aus you have to put those guys in a microbial lab. your fave is a high school english teacher. that show is about bowling now sorry. THIS IS MANDATORY!!!

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there’s wip (active development) and wip (stuck in development hell) and wip (oh you’re not even getting funding for this one)

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Fully intended to post Chode Fic tonight but unfortunately some stuff came up and we're pushing it back to tomorrow TENTATIVELY, possibly Friday. Once Chode Fic is out of my head I need to buckle down and work on something serious 🫠

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On modern day Thedas Tiktok there's a viral video that's just a compilation of Emmrich holding his phone an inch from his face, glasses crawling chaotically down his nose, dial tone blasting from the speaker at point-blank range until Rook's voice comes screaming over the phone.

"Hello?"

"Hello darling," he says, loudly, while whichever student is filming the video sniggers in the background. Sometimes there is another secondary student in the foreground mouthing along precisely to Emmrich's greeting. "Are you busy?"

The video is three straight minutes of nothing but this. Occasionally, Emmrich notices he's being filmed and rolls his eyes before turning his back, but in general he just wanders away while gabbing.

"DARLING REVEAL," the comments demand.

A twelve-second video of Rook flipping someone off behind Emmrich's back while he leans down to kiss them is posted to a separate, unrelated account several months later.

"Oh so THAT's Darling," say most of the comments--at least the ones that don't say IS THAT DARLING GUY or eyyy that guy was my applied physics professor in uni. Get it Emmrich.

There is one comment buried amongst the rest that says something like Call me crazy but I'm pretty sure Darling is the person who blew the whistle on Evanuris Enterprises last year but nobody really notices.

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Lol.

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i'm full of love but i also have the hater's curse and once a day i gotta say some bitchy shit or i'll explode

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AL THIS IS SO GOOD AND FUNNY WHAT THE FUCK

You have to stop writing things for me every time I roll up on your ask box. It's gonna go to my head.

Emmrich being so in love and so forlorn about it is a hilarious take. Poor mister necromancer, so sick with love for this disaster man of a gray warden. He doesn't know how to stop thinking about Worne and he is going to make it EVERYONE'S problem.

Al I saw a TikTok of someone pumping shrimp in a mudflat and I thought of Worne because of your fic. "Everything reminds me of him," we all sigh in unison. Emmrich and I are the same.

I need you to know. I’ve laughed so hard at this. Sincerely hurt my sides. Limitless joy. I didn’t know how to respond. I still don’t. We are infected. I’m sighing in unison with you. It made me write.

——-

“A plague.”

Emmrich announced with some gravity and a dramatic flick of the hand. A preacher mounting pulpit from the chair near the fire. The rest of the Veilguard peered towards the mage. Distracted from their game of Wicked Grace where they sat stripped of most apparel. All save Rook. Grinning from the head of the table. He seemed extra pleased with a free distraction, kept dancing cards in play as his compatriots turned to hear a word.

“Explain.” Lucanis broke silence first. He still had undergarments. And boots for some reason. Worne never wanted those boots.

Emmrich leaned forward, elbows on knees, mildest sway as he pressed hands together and put steepled fingertips to lips. “Rook, is a plague, my dear Lucanis.” The mage kept his eyes locked on the fire. “An infection.”

No one had been counting the necromancer’s drinks. Seeing the flush on pale cheeks Harding headed over, she was still graced with pants. They all figured the Professor a sensible sort, not one to get too deep into his cups. But when Harding lifted the whiskey bottle Emmrich had near to refill glass at hand, she nearly smacked her face with it. The thing was empty.

“You okay Emmrich?” She asked hesitatingly, her face flushed from the wine of the night, threw a look back at Taash. She might need help.

“Never better. Perfectly lucid. Thinking more clearly than ever before. Explain. Yes?” Emmrich straightened, searched for Lucanis, found instead Neve’s cool glance from the end opposing Rook. She was wise enough to abstain from cards. Lifted a glass in greeting to the look, and smirked. “Do go on, Professor. I’d love to hear your conclusions.”

“He’s a plague.” Emmrich tutted.

“You said that.” said Taash. They had exited the game. Retained a singular article of clothing. They were waiting for Lace to be done for the night, looked between her and Emmrich with questioning.

“Ah.” Emmrich leaned back, looked up, “So I did.” Closed his eyes. Took in a deep breath. And then heard the giggles. Rook was sneering at the hand he held. Emmrich’s eyes flicked open, and he turned, snapped that attention to the rogue. “There. There it is. You. Pandemic’s flare. Rampant plague.”

“So I’ve heard.” Worne chuckled. “Davrin. That’s your pants.” He pronounced with no small amount of further delight as he laid a card.

“Hold a moment, Worne.” Davrin put out an arm to still Rook, maybe keep him in place.

Emmrich’s attention hadn’t left. And the rogue squirmed for the first time, locked in by warrior’s arm, and felt the seering glare from his mage backed by fire. He peeked away from the game, and caught flickering green in that…oh it wasn’t adoring hazel. It was something else entirely. Something dark. Ominous. Rook slowly put his cards on the table. Reached to finish his beer with hefty swallow.

“You.” The word came again. Accompanied with movement this time. Emmrich stood, had prepared the advance. And the whiskey sway left him as purpose locked to target. Towering he crossed the few feet to table. Looked down at smirking man. “Rook.” A deep rolled accusation in tone. Worne only smiled as he looked up at the lengthy Nevarran, lips locked to bottle as he raised brows in questioning ‘me?’

“You’ve infected us all. Manfred nearly fell in a river trying to obtain a stick for you.”

“I’m honored to be thou…”

“Hush darling I’m not done.” That’s when Worne felt the long fingers clasp into place around his shoulder. Davrin leaned away. The necromancer had Rook in hand now, voice lower, layered in confidence of drink, “Harding stopped me in the market to laugh at a greased pig.”

The dwarf laughed again, she had wandered back to the table, found her way to Taash’s side. “He squealed like one over a bath!” She couldn’t stop the chuckles at that point. Infection caught.

Emmrich’s fingers drummed on Rook’s shoulder. “Lucanis can’t look at cheese without cursing your name.”

“Mierda. Rook. I can’t keep it stocked…” Lucanis shook his head, grumbled about being out of it again tonight. He had to rework the morning’s menu, could never count on cheese.

“Davrin, has suffered longest, just look at him,” Emmrich gestured to the warrior, nearly flicked the elf’s shoulder as Davrin leaned forward in the middle movement of removing his pants. He buckled in laughter, caught a breath,

“Yeah Rook, you’re really fucking the turlum training. Assan thinks you're his brother and you need to behave. Be a better example.”

“Exactly. Exactly. You’re leading this group. And Neve…”

Worne laid a hand over Emmrich’s on his shoulder, the touch cut off the voice, mage trailed to a hmm as rogue patted the fingers digging into his shoulder for balance. “Neve is perfect and beautiful and I’d never do a thing to harm or hinder her.” Rook blew a kiss to the detective. She gave a soft chuckle and nodded.

Emmrich blustered a moment, face gone red, “Yes. But. Neve delights in chasing trouble. She’s made a profession of the work you make for others I dare say.”

“Emmrich how could you?” Neve called out. She had moved over to Lucanis now. Located a blanket and draped it over him. “Calling your darling ‘plague’.”

“Look what’s he’s done to Bellara!” Emmrich practically shouted, and used a great sweeping arm to point at the elf in the far couch corner giggling, writing feverishly. “She can’t stop!”

“Oh she just knows romance when she sees it.” Worne twisted his head and kissed the fingers holding him in place, the hand Emmrich now leaned swaying on to keep from falling. Soft lips stirred a flicker of movement in the tall man, his mouth dropped a hair, face flushed burning redder still. But Worne ignored his effect and waved at his friend instead. “Let me know when the next chapter needs a beta read Bell!”

“Oh, sure thing Rook.” Bellara announced with cheer and a bit of a shaky smirk, “You know I could use your help with some details after that date… ”

“We can’t get through Hossberg without Emmrich crying at a muddy hole.” Taash snorted. Cut off the previous. Refused to hear more about that night. Though the beginnings of a laugh were hidden somewhere deep beneath the disgust.

“I. Taash. Well.” Emmrich stammered. The room was in movement. “Thank you. For the input.” Worne laughed first. And then the rest joined in. Hossberg was a difficult land to traverse these days. And it wasn’t for fear of darkspawn.

“We’re here to kill gods.” Emmrich sighed as night's joy continued, almost sank to a chair as he leaned against Rook, held his forehead in his other palm, “But we’ve been plagued by constant thoughts of you.”

Worne stood then. Kept his hand tight on his shoulder to steady Emmrich. The other arm went to hold the necromancer by the thin waist. Fingers curled on hip to draw him snuggly in. A lucky thing. Emmrich looked liable to topple over, but the Warden had him now. Leaned up on tiptoe to whisper to an ear.

“I’m sorry I make you all feverish.”

“Dearest…”

“All hot beneath the collar,”

A piece of bread hit Worne squarely between the eyes. Ceased the flirtation with a thunk.

“Take your plague to bed!” Davrin spoke stern but chuckling. Stood as tall and wide as he might baring his chest. “Or I’ll end both you monsters.”

Worne giggled and dipped his head at his fellow. “I’ll see the patient to his quarters.”

“I’ll expire under your care.” Emmrich continued spouting off, but he was leaning into the virus now. Full warmth of drink and familiar touch of hands renewing the flood of words as the mind didn’t have to concern itself with simple things like balance.

“Will thoughts of you never cease?” The professor turned in the walking embrace to stare at Rook as the rogue led them both out of the dining hall. Calls of good night echoed behind them. Rook gave waves and nodded along to Emmrich’s stream of thought. “I swear everywhere I look…I observed a student in Nevarra just yesterday take an entire minute and more to unwrap a treat.”

“Mhm, are you calling me sweet?” Worne smirked as they entered the open air of Fade.

“Ye..no. Listen. A full length of time to free the thing. And then he dropped it. I swear it bounced off his boot.” Rook sniffed at that, a mourning sound, but Emmrich waved a hand, almost unbelieving, “He ate it!” Worne nodded. Naturally, as one does.

But Emmrich continued in horror, “And dearest that’s when sickness struck over your absence. I missed you then. Over that. I could hardly oversee the coursework! I rushed back first chance. Skipped a luncheon, did you know?”

“Well let’s do lunch tomorrow then.” Rook almost sang as they entered the Lighthouse. Turned right for the stairs, Emmrich heavier on him now.

“Rook, darling that’s not the point, the issue…” Emmrich paused. There was a long thin tube leaning against the wall near the entrance to Rook’s quarters. An elven contraption of some sort? “…what is that?”

“Oh?” Worne’s eyes nearly sparkled. “Bellara must have finished the prototype!” He left Emmrich a moment. Made sure he was steady and firm against the wall to his room. Ran like a kid on Wintersend to the device. Pulled at the top of it. It must be… “A pump!”

Emmrich groaned. Leaned on the wall like the dead walking and stumbled down the hallway to his room.

“Emmrich! We can go catch shrimp at the mudflats after lunch!” Distantly he could hear the man testing the device but the mage didn’t catch anything further. Collapsed instead on the marble slab. Heat of plague refreshed against the cold. Best rest while he could, the infection showed no signs of slowing.

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What the fUCK boy what is your shape. Why are you so long. ssstaOp it

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On one hand, very happy with the decision to do the gothest thing possible with Emmrich's final romance scene and have him and Rook consummate (if you honestly believe they waited that long) in a sarcophagus. Absolutely the kind of thing he would do and deeply in character for Rook Ingellvar especially. On the other, sad we never see Emmrich in Rook's space. I want to see him in the candlelight. I want him sitting prettily on Solas' dumb green couch. I want to see this poor man HORIZONTAL for once. Laying supine, Rook's head on his chest. I want visual evidence that Emmrich has met the fishies. :/

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Accidentally sent one of my teaching assistants one of my (non-explicit) fic outlines today. Told her it was for a fanfiction. She, being a fannish sort, asked what fandom. Showed her Emmrich. Watched her face go through the five stages of grief.

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Give that man a baby girl to cherish and spoil.

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Sorry If this is a weird question but do you have any advice on naming fics? I’ve very recently started writing fanfic after reading it for a very long time and I am currently sitting on a fic, very reluctant to post it, simply because I have exactly zero clue what to name it. Its WIP title has nothing to do with the fic and there aren’t any lines in it that I think would work. I guess I’m just kinda stuck and frustrated at this final hurdle that shouldn’t be harder than actually writing the fic but is still somehow grinding everything to a halt. (Also I really enjoy your work, time between was the first emmrook fic I read when I was trying to see what all the fuss was about and now I am absolutely deranged about that old man. I ended up restarting a play through just to romance emmrich)

Sweet anon, I wish I had some good advice for you. Would it be a comfort if I admitted that I also find titling a piece to be one of the hardest if not THE hardest part of publishing fics? Like a lot of people, I tend to take inspiration from songs. 'Aim Low' is named after a line in Hozier's Too Sweet, which I listened to a TON while writing that fic, and also just in general because I love that fey Irishman with all my heart.

I also do this kind of dumb thing where I google the phrase 'Quotes about [theme of the fic]' and see what comes up. That's what I did when I was naming Time Between.

Honestly though, I tend to work almost exclusively on vibes. I've named fics after lines in poems, proverbs, Shakespeare sonnets and even bible verses. I've made up a few random rules for myself--for instance, I avoid using words like 'I' or 'me' in fic titles, because I abhor first-person POV to an almost fanatical degree, but that's totally just me and some of the best fic titles I've seen have had I or me in the title. I also try to keep my titles short--four words max, but you'll clearly see that I break my own rules all the time. Keeping them short just makes it easier, for me, to decide on a title.

I would really urge you not to let indecision over a title prevent you from posting your fic though! I know how important the title feels, and some people probably are drawn in by titles more than other things, but it really is just one facet of your work.

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I want you people to know that YOU have done this to me. Yes it IS past midnight and yes the working title of this stupid chode fic is, in fact, Size Matters.

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No I CANNOT be known as the Emmrich's small dick blog. Look at this face.

Would THIS face horny post about a fake man's chode? No she crochets and writes 'short stories'. That's what her 'hobbies' section on the faculty website for the preschool she works at says. This woman QUILTS.