#cw alchohol

[bamsara]

completely out of context fic AU doodles

[grendel-menz]

a fairy friend

[syscultureis]

System culture is this interaction I had after someone else had a pretty wild say out before I discovered our system

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[xemmez]

ethereal pup 🌈

[kingprinceleo]

vampire au- i like this one better

[themontess]

Thoughts on Lichdom by Marilys Ingellvar

Bit of a stream of consciousness on behalf of my Rook, prompted by playing through Arrangements a few days ago and wondering what they might actually think. Under the cut for spoilers, cw for death/fear of death, alcohol use and drug use. (Also, tag @redheadsramblings because I was about to post this anyway - might as well tag you in the whole thing rather than just 8 sentences!)

Emmrich wants to become a lich. That was the first revelation on a tour around the Memorial Gardens, which by turns saw them gather flowers and pay their respects to Rupert and Elannora Volkarin - his long-deceased parents - and share their first kiss (and second and third kisses) at the base of some impressive statuary. A single flower, Shrouds Bloom, is still pinned to Rook’s lapel. At the time, they’d said that the proposition was no stranger than anything else their order encountered. That remains true, in aggregate. Specifically - to Rook - the idea is lodged like a bile-stone somewhere in their gut. They don’t head back to the Lighthouse straight away.

Rook needs to buy reagents, a task for which they don’t need company. They reassure Emmrich with a fourth, tender, kiss that the distinction is between need and want. He is wanted. But they need some time alone. They neglect to tell him that their destination is a seedy bar on the wrong side of Nevarra City, a purveyor of illicit and inscrutable substances for merriment and mortal ill. If the professor had ever had cause to visit such an establishment, it would not be proper now. Even Rook raises their hood, their blonde bow braids and bright eyeshadow becoming a little too recognisable. They hand their shopping list to the clerk and sit with a glass of amber spirits and a line of something questionable. They won’t go home until the effects have worn off, and they will bring a gift. Gifts. Waiting out the high will buy them time to think.

Emmrich has a fear of dying. This, Rook knows. They have witnessed it first hand at Weisshaupt, where his increasingly measured and cheery responses to the destruction around them barely masked the simmering panic beneath. It had been hard not to grab him by the shoulders and slap it out of him, not that there had been time for it. Then again, near Lavendel, about to face down the blighted dragon. It was more acute then. The necromancer standing straight, but gripping his staff until his knuckles turned bone white; his voice silent, but his breaths gasping like a man drowned or buried six feet under. He got over it. He always has. But this is a fear which haunts him worse than any malign spirit: not the certainty of death but the uncertainty. When and how it would happen. What might be left behind. Lichdom offers that certainty. Emmrich will die, and then he will remain. Free of that fear. Unless he doesn't. Unless the ritual fails to come to pass. Then he will just… die. And what might be left behind, then? Rook takes a top up of their drink as their first provisions are brought back from storage. It burns on the tongue, like the funeral pyres their culture loathes, but they down it anyway.

What will happen to Marilys once Emmrich is gone? Rook finds it hard not to think of themselves by that name, their given name, in relation to the professor. Not since they let it slip some few weeks before. They have only known one another perhaps a month more than that. Marilys has always had a healthy attitude towards death - or at least as much as one can have, having been found in a crypt as an infant. Death is the boundary which defines life. You live, you love, you cry, you fight. And then you die. Emmrich worries - they know he worries - about the age gap between them. He has remarked that he has grey hairs older than Marilys themselves. What can he offer them? As if he is some invalid at the end of his ninth decade, not a man fit into his fifties. He has his hair, his teeth, his eyesight. No noticeable afflictions of the spine, the joints. He has years left to give, years Marilys would share willingly. Time they would cherish were it to only last a day - which seems like all any of them can ask for at the minute. But if they succeed - if Marilys, Rook, and the Veilguard save Thedas, then all the years he has left will be theirs. Lichdom would rob them of that.

Not the time: they would still have Rook’s lifespan. Not the companionship, nor this frilly, spark-hot passion which oscillates between them like an errant wisp. Emmrich's soul will still be his own. The Lich Lords can't have existed for as long as they have without exploring acts of physical intimacy; they do not cast all partnerships asunder with their flesh. But to Rook, to Marilys… the thought of one day losing Emmrich is part of what makes this new romance all the sweeter. Their time together is an empty vessel into which it can all be poured. He will be loved. He will be mourned. How do you have a legacy if you leave no-one behind? In quiet moments. Emmrich has stated precisely what he craves. Rook saw his eyes light up in the Gardens, when they promised his parents they would never leave him lonely. He expressed concern about what will happen to Manfred, when he one day passes (it is a stupid question, Manfred will be treasured by Rook all the same). But what will happen to Emmrich when everyone else is gone instead? Is witnessing death after death after death of those you care about worth avoiding the finality of your own? It is, Marilys thinks, a perversion - as within the bounds of Mourn Watch normality it might be. They don't have the words to tell him that.

“Here you go, love,” the proprietor says, setting down the last of the supplies. “Running low on the flasks you like, but ask the apothecary down by the wet market. If you don't mind what's been in ‘em, they might have a few to spare. Anything else for the road?”Rook takes another line, and they'll take a long walk. Gathering gifts that say I care for you, please kiss me again, stay with me. Cookies. Good beeswax candles. A small bead to add to the chain that runs from his left wrist to his thumb, a partner to the one they've had installed as a ball capture on a helix piercing. It's selfish, but they hope it works. Hope one day they can find the words to have this discussion for real. Because Emmrich Volkarin may fear death, but Marilys Ingellvar would and will fight gods to convince him to live with them first.

[cavity-collector]

post nature, pre honor puppington family photo

[dognonsense]

found out smth hilarious last night at the jim e brown show. During my performance last week some of my friends had made a drinking game where they took a shot everytime i barked during my set.

They ran out of booze after only 15 minutes and they were taking SMALL sips instead of shots at that point.

[skreebs]

Visiting w friends

[royaldoge7370]

Style test wogh

[fymo-blogs]

A stimboard of Raoul from the 2004 the phantom of the opera movie?

Alright!

Warning for swords and alchohol below cut!

🥂|🤍|🗡

🌹|🍹|🫖

🌟|♟️|🪞

Raoul stimboard

Requested by: Anon

Themes: Swords, ties, fancy

Song:

[fizzytoo]

[theinternetisaweboflies]

Pacific Rim Props Part 1

(Part 2)

(Part 3)

Dr. Hermann Gottleib Drift Lot

Dr. Newton Geiszler's Stage 3 Shirt

Dr. Newton Geiszler's Stage 5 Shirt

Small Kaiju Jar

PPDC Mess Hall Tray and Food Ration Lot

Stacker Pentecost Bathroom Lot

[syscultureis]

system culture is an adult alter really wanting to make a cocktail but settling for a virgin alternative.

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[possuminthetrashh]

mistakes were made

[aestheticsoftheinternet]

Barmaid & Coordinator Moodboard

Requested by: @kspurgatory <3