#it’s a nice paperweight now

[crowcryptid]

very random

does anyone know a decent usb mic and wireless earbuds that aren’t stupidly overpriced. Under $100 each.

priorities for a mic : doesn’t need a desk mounted arm (the way my desk is built won’t work with one) and no headset style mics.

Priorities for earbuds : long battery while playing (6+ hours) and good for working out (at least some noise cancelling and they don’t fall out easily)

I’m being lazy and trying to avoid watching clickbait youtube reviews teehee

[nostalgia-tblr]

I watched Avengers: Age of Ultron (apart from I skipped some overly long action sequences) and I am not sure so can someone tell me whether or not Tony Stark was the baddy in that film? Because about halfway through I was sure he was but then it was maybe just an evil robot after all and I am confused because either this film was surprisingly subversive or it was about robots hitting each other.

[britneyshakespeare]

you know i don't use amazon but something i often think about. several years ago my mom ordered me some books for my birthday on amazon and one of them i asked for was the oxford world's classics edition of the rover and other plays by aphra behn edited and with an introduction by jane spencer. it was supposedly new but when it got to me, the cover (paperback) was folded at an angle and the edges of the pages were dirty like they were left somewhere contaminated. and you see i don't mind like a not-pristine book at all; most of my books are used. but what the fuck was that.

[typheus]

my phone is such a piece of garbage i wish i still had my broken phone cause at least that one worked

[honeipie]

THE INTERVIEW

katsuki bakugo x fem!reader

synopsis: katsuki won’t do interviews for anyone. well, anyone that isn’t you.

this is part two of the first hockey boys katsuki post which you can find here

after the interaction at the bar, you and katsuki had been seeing more and more of each other, not only on a professional level, but a personal one as well. in public he'd answer your questions dead last during the press conferences, but you waited each time. knowing that when it was over he wouldn’t leave your side at that bar.

it didn’t take long for the two of you to start dating. you knew you liked him, and he liked you.

the two of you never made your relationship known to the public, due to the small fear you had of it interfering with your job. katsuki never minded, as long as you came home with him at the end of the day he wasn't going to complain.

so five months later here you were, in bed with one of the best hockey players in the league, trying to escape his need to cuddle.

buzz. buzz. buzz.

"get your damn phone will ya?" katsuki mumbled, pressing his eyes shut. you let out a long sigh eyes opening slowly.

"i would if you weren't holding me down like a damn paperweight" he only grumbled loosening his arm around your torso. you couldn’t help but giggle picking up the phone.

“don’t worry my baby. i’ll make it up to you”

“shut up” this made him fully let go and turn his body around. you couldn’t help but fully burst out in laughter at his dramatics before you answered your phone.

“hello?” you rubbed off the sleep that still clouded your eyes.

“y/n, sorry to call you this early but we’re going to need to have a meeting quickly. i hope you don’t mind”

you contained the groan you wanted to let out and opted for a small sigh instead “i’ll be there in an hour” hanging up you turned back to your boyfriend placing your chin in his shoulder.

“i gotta go to work kats”

he grumbled something before turning around to fully face you “this is the one day i don’t gotta go to practice and now they’re callin’ you in? what the hell?”

“i know it sucks, but i’ll be back as soon as possible ‘kay? it’s just a meeting then i should be done” you pulled him in for a kiss which he sleepily returned.

“ugh your breath-“

“shut the fuck up”

even through your teasing he couldn’t help but smirk a little. you got out of the bed opening up his closet. he had opened up a space for you knowing that you might have to get up and go. you picked out something that was comfortable, but still work appropriate. you didn’t plan on staying long anyways.

by the time you exited the closet you were quickly putting on lipstick and looking in the nearest mirror you could find. at this point, katsuki had gotten up and made his way over to you.

“you look nice”

he placed kisses at the crook of your neck, which you were trying not let get to you. cause if you did you would not be getting to work.

“thanks!” you put some earrings in trying not to tilt your head too much where he could have more leverage over you. once they were in you turned around making his head snap back up “i will be back. please remind me cause you know how i could stay there for hours” cupping his cheeks you pulled him in for one last kiss which left a lipstick stain, but you weren’t going to be the one to tell him that.

when you arrived at the station you said your casual hello’s before making your way into one of the conference rooms. luckily, there was already a coffee sitting there waiting for you. ever since you had drawn more attention for the station you’ve been getting some more positive attention.

“hello sir” you greeted your boss with a smile going to sit down across from him. he smiled back at you his teeth practically shining from all the whitening his does.

“there she is! sorry for calling you in on such short notice. i know you probably have errands to attend to" you only shrugged going to take a sip of your coffee "the reason i called you up is because we need something big. we've been getting attention from the players and that's good, but the season is almost over, and we can't just rely on those press conferences anymore. we need something bigger. remember those locker room interviews i was talking about? i was wondering if you could score one with any of the teammates. if you could pull it off, do it with bakugo. he seems to do strangely well with you"

your eyes flit up to meet his. you thought that you could get away with the press conferences for at least the rest of the season. katsuki and you never really delved too dead into work conversation. you'd always hit him with the little 'how was work' and his response never failed, 'y/n you were there'. that was all you would really do. you didn't want him to think that you were with him just to get information out of him, so you never said much about what your boss asked you to do.

"that should be okay with you right? i mean you are our star reporter"

clearing your throat you nodded "i should be able to pull something through. is this all? not to be rude, but i do have some plans for the rest of the day"

he shook his head standing up from his chair "that's all i got for ya" he walked over to give your hand a firm shake "thanks for being so cooperative. shoot me an email when you've got something" with that, he was out of the door.

your keys clanged against the ceramic bowl you made on one of you and katsuki's date nights. he had made one too, you just use it to keep your rings in. katsuki stood in the kitchen already starting prep on some dinner for later. you slipped off your shoes going over to stand next to him.

"how was your meeting?" he asked using a knife to scrape vegetables into a bowl. all you could do was shrug and hop onto the island counter.

"it was okay" you watched as his back muscles flexed along with his movements. katsuki was good on the ice for sure, but in the kitchen? it was like everything he touched was approved by God himself. after he had made your favorite meal after a long day you had never gone back to cooking yourself.

katsuki finished with the last of the vegetables before walking over to you. both hands rested by your thighs, which you wrapped around his waist bringing him closer “hello handsome” you went to lean in but to your surprise he dodged.

he must’ve noticed the offended look that crossed your face “tell me what’s up”

“nothing is up! i just wanted a kiss!”

“don’t lie to me. i just can tell something is wrong. don’t ask how, just tell me so i can help. don’t want you moping around the house bringin’ the mood down”

“weird way of saying you care” your fingers went up to play with some of his hair.

“i do care. that’s why i’m asking”

a small pout formed on your lips as you thought “i don’t want this to ruin what we have. i don’t want you to think im using you or anything, cause i’m not. i love you kat,” if you being upset before didn’t concern him enough this definitely did “my boss is asking me to get a locker room interview with someone on the team-“

“i’ll do it”

it was so quick you could’ve missed it. he didn’t look upset, or even angry. katsuki just shrugged as if it was an every day occurrence. as if he doesn’t brush off every single one on one interview there is. no, you’ve seriously seen him delete the emails before even opening them. fucking spam is what he calls them.

your eyebrows furrowed together at his words “you’re- you’re sure about this?”

“yeah why not. you’re definitely the one doing the interview right? plus if you don’t want it to be with me i’ll force one of the other extras to do it. they fuckin’ love the attention.. was that it?”

“i’ll be doing the interview for sure, and that was it”

he leaned down finally giving you the kiss you wanted along with a small ‘love you’ at the very end.

when he kissed you, there was an unusual feeling on his bottom lip. pulling away you put your thumb over his lip feeling out the bump.

"what the fuck? do you have herpes or some shit?"

katsuki pulled away with an offended expression "no i don't have fuckin' herpes! and if i did, i would've gotten it from your dumbass!"

"well i don't have herpes so where did the herpes bump come from?"

"stop calling it that!"

your stomach was hurting from laughter and katsuki was trying not to give in to your stupid jokes "i got it from that game yesterday. it's starting to swell up a bit" you tilted your head letting your thumb graze over it again.

"babe, you've gotta stop fighting. i don't want to mistake you for having STDs again-"

"is this your weird way of saying you care?"

"i do care"

the two of you stared at each other for a good minute, neither backing down until he let out a huff "fine. can't believe you're doin' this to me" he grumbled going to walk away into the bedroom “come get into some more comfortable clothes. i want to lay down to make up for this morning"

katsuki had a game the next day, so of course you sat right behind the bench where the team sat. it was a close match the whole game. tensions were high between both of the teams, and everyone could feel it. all throughout there was one player on the other team that was really pissing katsuki off, and you could tell from where you were sitting. the way he would skate quickly away from him every time he would get close. the way he would make the whole bench shake every time he sat down in rotations.

there was no physical contact made from either side. not until katsuki scored a goal for his team which must've aggravated the other enough to the point of bodychecking katsuki, hard.

the crowd egged the players actions on with ‘oooohs’ and ‘oh shits!���

now katsuki was livid. you could see him doing a quick turn around to face the player again, but suddenly stopped himself.

katsuki shook his head, and skated away.

the whole crowed murmured in confusion, the player who instigated it was confused. hell, you were even confused.

the day katsuki bakugou refused a fight has finally come.

after the game had finished, and everyone cleared out of the locker room, the station got it set up for the interview. you had taken katsuki into the coach’s office to explain how it was going to go down “so it’s not like a regular locker room interview. it’s going to be like a podcast episode. people eat those up nowadays so this is gonna be good-“

“hm” he was half listening to whatever you were saying. his face was buried in your neck and hands pulled you in by your waist. the blinds were closed and the door was shut, so there was a fifty-fifty chance you could’ve gotten caught, and he was willing to take it.

you decided explaining any more would be useless. all of it going through one ear and out the other. so you moved your hands up the back of his shirt making him shiver slightly “you did good today. i saw your goals”

“thanks baby” he whispered back placing soft kisses along your neck “we can go home after this right?”

“right after, then take a hot bath”

“then let’s get this over with” hesitantly, he pulled away from you going to open the door. you could tell how the game wore him out by how his shoulders sagged slightly, and his hair was a mess. hand going to his shoulder you stopped him “hey, we can do this another day”

he shook his head grabbing one of his baseball caps “nah i’m fine. turn this shit on” nodding you got into you seat. he settled into his but couldn’t help but watched as you fixed your appearance looking into one of the screens nearby. fixing your lipstick because he accidentally smeared it from the after game kiss. the way you straightened out your clothes because of the way he relaxed onto you like a pillow. he loved seeing the evidence of his love all over you, even if nobody knew.

man, he was starting to regret agreeing to keeping this secret.

“are you ready mr. bakugo?” you asked as if you didn’t even know him.

“yeah ‘m ready”

the interview was going smoothly for the most part. you asked him questions and he either gave you one of his famous snarky remarks, or an actual thought out answer. the topic of conversation had turned onto the events of today’s game, and you had questions already lined up in your head.

“so mr. bakugo you had a good game today with you and your teammates pulling in yet another victory. though i’m sure everyone is wondering why you didn’t involve yourself in the fight today. i mean that player was being pretty hostile”

katsuki shrugged pulling the mic away from his mouth a bit “my girl doesn’t like when i fight”

your eyebrow raised at his statement. the team behind the cameras ears perked up at the new information.

“your girl? you- you have a girlfriend?”

his eyes flit up to yours trying to contain his budding smirk “yeah i do. congratulations, you’re the first people to publicly know. other than the team”

“if you don’t mind me asking. how long have you and your girlfriend been together?”

“almost six months”

“so almost half a year. she must have something special if she could tie you down”

both of you were now smiling at each other. it wasn’t shocking that you were smiling, but katsuki? hell must’ve frozen over.

“yeah she’s special as hell, and pretty. might put a ring on her finger one of these days if that’s what she wants” he adjusted the mic once more “people might say that’s quick, but i say when you know you know. why waste time?”

you had choked on your spit causing a coughing fit. katsuki covered his face to hide the fact that he was chuckling at your misfortune. once you pulled yourself together you shook your head “i’m sorry about that. i don’t know what happened”

“don’t worry about it”

“well thank you so much mr. bakugo for doing this interview with us. you’ve been amazing”

he mumbled out a ‘you’re welcome’ before the cameras stopped rolling. you got up quickly making sure the crew had everything they needed before you made your way outside. both you and katsuki had driven your own cars here so you would simply meet him at home.

by the time he had gotten there you had already run the bath and gotten in. you could hear the soft pats of his clothes hitting the floor as he made his way into the bathroom. carefully, he slipped into the tub behind you, muscles instantly relaxing. the two of you sat in comfortable silence for a while. just basking in the warmth of the tub.

“you’re good at your job”

“thanks” you looked over your shoulder to see that his head was tilted back. his adam’s apple bobbed a little because of your movements.

“whatcha starin’ at me for?”

“cause your pretty. and i want to know if you meant what you said”

his one eye opened to look over at you “what did i say?”

katsuki knew what he said. he just wanted to be able to hear his words become yours.

“that you wanted to marry me”

he closed his eye again moving his arms to wrap around your body. they pulled you close with ease enveloping you in more warmth.

“i meant every fuckin’ word”

@v4mp3r

@yeehawgiddyup13

@b134ch-m4h-ey3z

@liluvtojineteyam

[jornami]

Nanami Kento does not FaceTime. Well, not until he meets you.

“Why do you need to see me?” he asks. “When we’re on the phone, I’m just doing random household chores or paperwork.”

“Thats exactly why! You look so handsome when you’re washing dishes and folding laundry,” you insist.

He scoffs at your statement, but it’s genuine; he always looks so handsome. It’s not enough to convince him though.

“You don’t wanna see my pretty face while we talk?” you pout.

There it is.

“Fine,” he sighs.

You two begin to FaceTime regularly. His phone propped up on the paperweight on his desk or on the paper towel holder while he cooks. You always get a great view of him. Him of you…not so much. You have a tendency to set your phone down or turn the camera to show him something then forget to turn it back.

“You’re not holding up your end of the bargain,” he says, not looking up from the cucumber he’s cutting.

“Huh?”

“I can’t see your face,” he says.

“You’re cutting a cucumber!” you protest, “All your attention needs to be on the knife in your hand.”

He sets his knife and cutting board to the side, and does that thing where he looks at you over his glasses.

“I’m washing it right now,” you say.

“And?”

Ugh. You grab your phone with sudsy hands and position it in the medicine cabinet so he can get a nice side view of your soap-covered face.

“Better?” you ask, not looking away from the mirror.

“Much,” he says.

You can hear the smug smile in his voice.

~

During one of your evening FaceTime calls, you’re away for work. You show him the hotel your company put you in. With your back camera, you give him a walk through.

“And look!” you say, walking into the bathroom. “This shower is so nice and the water pressure is amazing. And there’s a tv in here!!”

The adoration in his eyes is not meant for the marble bathroom tile you’re currently showing him, but for you. He takes great pleasure in your excitement.

“Very nice, sweetheart,” he speaks softly and smiles at you. “Anything else you want to show me?”

Your enthusiastic “yes!” makes him chuckle. You walk out onto the balcony. A picturesque view of a beach fills his screen.

“Isn’t it amazing?” you awe.

“Mhmm,” he agrees. “But not as pretty as you.”

You flip your camera not so he can see your pretty face, but rather the apathetic look casted on it by his cheesiness.

“Corny,” you say.

“I know,” he concedes. “But I got to look at you, so no real loss for me.”

You roll your eyes, but when you look out to the water again your annoyance is quelled.

“Seriously, Kento,” you say. “We should come here on vacation sometime. It’s beautiful.”

The camera is on you, but you’re looking at the water, mesmerized. You look so serene, so content. The afternoon sun bathing you in gold. Cheesy as it may be, you really are more beautiful than any beach.

“What’s the name of the hotel?” he asks.

He writes it down so he can research after you two hang up.

~

He’s washing dishes. He’s washing dishes and you’re riled up. Shameful. But not really because any human with eyes would be if they could see how your boyfriend looks. Dish towel thrown over his shoulder, sleeves rolled up, tie lazily draped around his neck, blond hair messy, belt…well it’s buckled, but if you were there it wouldn’t be.

You’re staring at him, but your mind is somewhere else.

“Hello? Earth to, ____?” he pulls you out of your trance.

“Huh? I’m sorry,” you say.

“Everything okay?” he asks.

“Yeah.” you almost leave it at that, but last minute decide to tack on, “Just thinking about all the things I wanna do to you when I see you.”

“Oh?” He raises an eyebrow. “Tell me more.”

“Well it’s still coming to me, but something something blindfolding you with your tie something something tying your hands above your head,” you pause. “I think ice cubes were in there somewhere.”

Your boldness never ceases to amaze him, but he’s gotten better at hiding it.

“Is this something you’d be interested in realizing in the near future?” he asks, ever the wordsmith even when he’s horny.

“Mhmm,”

“Why don’t you come over tonight?” he suggests. “I just washed all my ties.”

“Mmm…no,” you shrug. “I’m getting drinks with some friends tonight.”

His laugh translates into “you’re such a tease.”

“Plus, I need more time to make my plan of attack,” you say. "You'll appreciate me being well prepared."

"I'm sure I will," he says.

"I gotta go get dressed now," you say when you see the time. "Talk to you soon."

"Love you," he says.

"Love you too."

[leftoverghosts]

the weight of it all

divorcelawyer!patrick zweig x divorcelawyer!wife!user

or, patrick teases you with a paperweight. nsfw teasing under the cut.

PLAY MY XMAS GAME AND REQUEST A BOT/BLURB HERE!

"I can’t believe you thought that was okay—what the hell were you thinking?" Patrick snarled.

Your heart raced as Patrick pressed against you, his rage palpable, as he stood between your spread thighs. You'd been arguing in circles, when he'd hoisted you onto the desk unceremoniously. "I was trying to do what's best for our client," you shot back, meeting his furious gaze. "Art deserves a fair settlement."

"Fair?" Patrick scoffed, his hot breath on your face. "You call handing over half his assets to that gold-digging bitch fair?" He slammed his fist on the desk, rattling the glass paperweight behind you. You glared at him, not appreciating how he referred to Tashi.

“Fuck you. Taking on this case was a conflict interest anyway.” You stood your ground, staring down your husband as if he were the most foolish man on Earth. The Donaldson's divorce was in danger of causing your own, and you had spent countless hours trying to untangle their messy assets.

Between this case and all the others, you and Patrick barely had time for anything other than work - let alone to release any of the pent up aggression building inside both of you due to lack of intimacy. You weren't nice when you were horny, and neither was he. "If you'd just listen to reason, you God damn moron-"

With a snarl, Patrick grabbed the heavy crystal paperweight and shoved it roughly between your legs. You gasped as the cold glass pressed against your most sensitive area through your panties. He moved it in slow, deliberate circles, glaring at you with a mix of anger and dark lust.

"Is this what you want?" he hissed. "You uptight cunt. You need to loosen up. You’re driving me crazy."

A moan escaped your lips as the smooth paperweight rubbed against your clit through the thin fabric. You were appalled at his crude actions but your body betrayed you, automatically grinding against the hard glass.

Patrick watched your face with grim satisfaction as he continued to torment you with the makeshift toy under your skirt. "Not so high and mighty now, are you?" he taunted. “Who’s a moron, baby?”

You hated how your body responded to Patrick's aggressive touch, but you couldn't deny the electric sparks of pleasure racing through you. The glass was unyielding against your sensitive flesh, stroking you in just the right way.

"Stop..." you whimpered, but your hips bucked traitorously against the object. Your panties were drenched, desire coiling hot and tight in your core.

Patrick leaned in close, lips brushing your ear as he spoke in a dark, honeyed voice. "You need this. Need to be put in your place." He increased the pressure and speed of the paperweight, the glass growing slick with your arousal.

A cry tore from your throat as the blunt tip found your aching entrance through the soaked fabric. Patrick nudged it rhythmically against your opening, teasing penetration. You clutched his shoulders, head thrown back, panting as he worked you into a frenzy.

"Beg me for it," Patrick commanded gruffly. "Beg me to fuck your bratty little cunt." He licked and nipped at your neck, marking you as his.

"Please..." you whined desperately. This was so wrong, so unprofessional. But the taboo of it all only heightened your arousal. Your hips rocked shamelessly as Patrick worked the paperweight faster.

"Fuck, look at you," he sneered. "You love this, don't you? Such a dirty little slut behind that prissy act. It’s not even inside you."

His filthy words sent you over the edge. You came hard, shuddering and muffling a cry against his shoulder as your cunt clenched around nothing. Patrick held the paperweight firmly against you, drawing out your climax until you stopped mewling.

Panting, you sagged against the desk, thoroughly debased. He set the paperweight down with a clink and straightened his tie, a smug look on his face.

"Now then," he said coolly, as if nothing had happened. "Let's discuss the settlement terms again, shall we? And this time, I expect you to see things my way."

Cheeks burning with humiliation and fading pleasure, you had no choice but to meekly nod. Patrick had won this battle. And you hated how much you'd enjoyed it.

[eco-lite]

I’m once again returning to do god’s work by bringing you delightful moments from Spock’s World by Diane Duane.

[Text ID: “Spock was bent over [the Science Station], making some adjustment. ‘Readout now,’ he said, straightening and looking over his shoulder at the large, shaggy-fringed rock that was sitting in the center seat. Some of those glittering fringes stroked the open circuitry of the communicator controls in the seat’s arm. ‘Point nine nine three,’ said a scratchy voice from the voder box mounted on the rock’s back. ‘A nice triple sine.’ ‘Nice?’ said Spock. Jim raised an eyebrow: you could have used Spock’s tone of voice to dry out a martini.” End ID]

There’s a Horta crewman on the Enterprise now and they’re great!

[Text ID: “Still working on her doctoral thesis, Jim thought. Uhura was busy working on improving universal translator theory, mostly by taking the old theory to pieces and putting it back together in shapes that were causing a terrible furor in academic circles on various planets. Jim vividly remembered one night quite a long time ago when he had asked Uhura exactly how she was going about this. She had told him, for almost an hour without stopping, and in delighted and exuberant detail, until his head was spinning with phoneme approximations and six-sigma evaluations and the syntactic fade and genderbend and recontextualization and linguistic structural design and the physics of the human dextrocerebral bridge. The session had left Jim shaking his head, thoroughly disabused of the idea (and ashamed of how long he had held it) that Uhura was simply a sort of highly trained switchboard operator.” End ID]

Uhura continues to be a total badass and is amazing at what she does.

[Text ID: Chatroom title in all caps: “COMMON ROOM OPINION, INFORMED AND NON- RANTING AND RAVING PERMITTED NAMES NOT NECESSARY” Regular text: “It was one of the places he came to find out what his crew was thinking. Messages did not have to be attributed to a name or terminal, but they could not be private. The office of the common room system operator rotated through the crew, offered to various members on the strength of their psych profiles in areas like calm reaction to stress and anger. The common room syops tended to be closemouthed and dependable, the kind of person that others refer to as ‘a rock.’ (Once it had actually been Naraht, to the amusement of just about everyone.) Here tempers could flare, awful jokes be told safely, suspicions be aired, rumors be shot down. The common room was sometimes a peaceful place, sometimes a powderkeg. Jim never ignored it.” End ID]

The Enterprise has a dumpster fire chat room that has just as much shitposting and vitriol as twitter.

[Text ID: “Jim bowed over her free hand. ‘It’s been too long,’ he said. ‘It’s good to be back,’ Amanda said. ‘And in the middle of a party as well.’ She looked a little wry. ‘A little entertainment will be pleasant before the deluge.’ Sarek’s eyes flicked to Kirk, a considering look. ‘My wife speaks figuratively,’ he said, ‘in the tradition of her people. Deluges are not common on Vulcan.’ ‘My husband speaks circumspectly,’ Amanda said, just as dryly, ‘in the tradition of his.’” End ID]

Amanda and Sarek are as charming as ever.

[Text ID: “Jim was mildly surprised to see that to his other rank tags and decorations, McCoy had added a small, understated IDIC. ‘If I didn’t know you better,’ he said, ‘I’d think you were going native. When did you get that?’ ‘Today in the gift shop, when you were looking at the snowball paperweights with Mount Seleya in them. Tackiest things I ever saw.’ ‘Yes,’ Spock said; ‘they were imported from Earth.’ ‘You be quiet. We can’t let these people leave the Federation, Jim. At least not until they teach us how to make tasteful souvenirs.’” End ID]

Just this.

[Text ID: “There was Sreil, the burly, brown-haired biologist from the Academy, and T’Madh, a little bright-eyed woman of great age and curiosity, a computer programmer; and her son Savesh, who when asked what he did, said, ‘I am a farmer,’ with a sort of secret satisfaction that hinted he thought his job better than any of the more technical ones that the people around him held. Jim had to smile; the thought of a Vulcan farmer was slightly funny, even though there naturally had to be some. But the image of a Vulcan in coveralls, chewing on a stalk of hay, kept coming up and having to be repressed.” End ID]

I love Savesh the Vulcan farmer!

[Text ID: “’Jim,’ he said, ‘the best translation of nehau would be an old word: “vibes.” The feeling-in-your-bones that something gives you. It’s highly subjective.’ ‘Right. Go on, Savesh.’ ‘Well, Captain, I have heard numerous Vulcans say that losing the Federation and the Earth people would be no particular loss, because they had bad nehau, and that could not fail to affect us sooner or later.. But I must tell you that I find your nehau not objectionable at all; pleasant, even.’ End ID]

Vulcan wanting to leave the Federation because the ~vibes~ are off.

[Text ID: “His grasp of dialect and idiom as amazing for anybody, off-planet or on. He once reduced the President of the United States—then a ceremonial post, but one much loved by the people who lived within the old borders—to tears of laughter at a state dinner, by delivering a learned dissertation on computer data storage technology in a flawless Texan accent. The lady was later heard to propose an amendment to the Constitution to allow off-worlders to hold high public office, so that she could have him for her running mate in the next election.” End ID]

I would give anything to hear Sarek do a perfect Texas accent.

[Text ID: “—but when Amanda became annoyed over what she perceived as his smugness about being right, her eyes would flash and she would become splendidly insulting, usually in bizarre Anglish idiom that Sarek found as refreshing as it was annoying. She caused him to laugh out loud for the first time in many years when she told him, after a disagreement over the translation of the word for war, that he should only grow headfirst in the ground like a turnip. Later that month, when he was right about something again and made the mistake of not immediately down-playing it, she issued him with a formal malediction, wishing that the curse of Mary Malone and her nine blind orphan children might pursue him so far over the hills and the seas that God Almighty couldn’t find him with a radio telescope. Sarek laughed so hard at that that he entirely lost his breath, and Amanda panicked and started to give him cardiopulmonary resuscitation, which was useless, because his heart was somewhere other than the spot on which she was pounding. It took him nearly an hour to recover: he kept laughing. He had never been cursed like that before, not even by union leaders, and it was very refreshing.” End ID]

This dynamic is perfect, no notes.

[Text ID: “The next night they sat in the Rec Deck again, in the middle of a large impromptu party that was going on around them by way of celebration. The sense of relief in the ship was palpable. A group of about a hundred crewfolk, mostly human, had surrounded Spock earlier in the evening and sung ‘For He’s A Jolly Good Fellow,’ accompanied by twenty crewmen on kazoos. Sarek had been given champagne.” End ID]

I really hope the TOS Enterprise has crew performances like on Next Gen. This kazoo band needs to be heard! Also, I can perfectly picture Spock’s annoyed-but-tolerant expression as he resigns himself to the kazoo serenade.

Thank you @dianeduane for making me laugh!

[thegreatwizardelwin]

The Sea Hare: Birthday Special!

A Freminet x Gn! Reader

It’s September 24th, Freminet’s 18th birthday! Let’s show the little guy some appreciation.

“Freminet’s avoiding us until the party tonight. He says today is always too overwhelming.” Lynette announced as you finished helping her tie her ponytail.

“There’s a party tonight that I didn’t know about?” you cocked your head.

“It’s his birthday. Father is coming to visit tonight to celebrate with us.”

You froze.

“His birthday? Today? I-”

“Did you forget, Y/N?”

What? Forget? Hah, never!

You reassured yourself as you scrambled around the shopping district.

It’s just that September is a busy month! Yeah, and I hadn’t been watching my time. 

You stopped in multiple stores, collecting items here and there that you knew he’d like. You emerged with all sorts of things ranging from high class mechanic tools to a palm-sized paperweight featuring a little penguin on an iceberg.

Oh Archons, I don’t even know what kind of cake he likes!

You sat down and took a breath.

It’s fine. Just think. He doesn’t like foods that are too sweet, and he doesn’t like chocolate so…

You scanned the window of the nearest bakery. 

You noted the carrot cake, vanilla and toffee cake, and the blackberry purée filled cake as possible options before settling on the blackberry. Blackberry always added a wonderful tartness to counter the sugar of the frosting.

“Can I purchase two slices of the blackberry cake?”

+

You rushed back home, placing the gifts hastily in some tissue paper and a little bag. You then made your way to the Hotel Bouffes d'ete, knocking rapidly on the door.

An older child answered.

“Hello, is Freminet around?” you asked them nicely.

They squinted at you.

“What’s your name? I’ll go get him.”

“Y/N, and tell him to come down and meet me.”

You stood waiting for a few minutes before Freminet opened the door. It was obvious he had been either napping or curled in bed all day. He hadn’t bothered to brush his hair and his comportment was relaxed. He smiled with amusement at you, seeing how frazzled you seemed.

“Were you running laps around the fountain near Vasari Passage?” he crossed his arms.

“…Something like that.” you grabbed his arm and gave it a tug. “I hope you’re hungry! We’re going back to my place. I wanted to celebrate your birthday with you, but… I know how the Knave is about friends.”

Freminet followed you without a question.

“I was hoping you’d figure something out. You always do.” he said with a hint of admiration. You noticed, pride welling up in your chest.

“You know me. I get everything done at the last minute, but I always get it done.”

You led him back to the boarding house, setting up in the little breakfast parlor. You plopped him down in a chair and scurried over to the kitchen where the cake slices had been chilling. You stuck in a candle, lit it, and cautiously set before him the small plate and fork.

“Happy birthday!” you placed your hands on his shoulders and leaned down. “Make a wish.”

He shut his eyes and hummed for a minute before blowing the candle out. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and hugged him.

“Yay! Was it a big wish or a little one?” you asked.

“It… depends. But to me, it’s a big wish.” he said quietly.

You gave his shoulders a clap and then flitted over to your own cake and sat.

“Well, birthday wishes always come true so if you’re going to make a big wish now’s the chance. Of course, you get another one later tonight. Lucky~”

He took the candle out and sat it on the side of the plate.

“Still, you didn’t have to buy cake for me, Y/N. I’ll be eating so much cake these next few days…” he trailed off with dread.

“What, you’ll never eat cake again or something?”

“I might turn into cake, is what I mean.” he took a bite of it nonetheless.

You both took a moment to savor it.

“So… you’re old now.”

He paused, looking up at you with confusion and mild concern.

“Old?”

“You’re 18 now, Mimi. That’s old.”

He blushed heavily at the use of “Mimi”. 

“If I’m ‘old’, then you aren’t doing much better. And what the heck kind of name is ‘Mimi.’”

“Your new nickname, as of today!” you raised a hand to your mouth as you laughed.

He decided not to protest, taking another bite to silence himself. You poked the dense cake with your fork.

“It’s a little dry, I’m going to pour some milk. Do you want some?” you stood again.

“That’d be great, if you will.” He nodded.

You returned shortly, carrying two glasses to the table.

“If you turned into cake, I think you’d become a blueberry muffin with those little sugar crystals on top.” you stated.

“W-What makes you say that?” he asked with a soft laugh.

“Well… blueberry muffins are small like your voice, sturdy like your strength, and sweet like your heart! Also, your eyes kind of look like blueberries anyway.”

Are you saying I’m a sweetheart? he pondered, blushing a little.

“I bought you some presents too.”

“You did? Thank you.”

“Psh, what kind of person would I be if I didn’t buy birthday presents for my favorite guy?”

Poor thing, now he’s even more red in the face.

“You spoil me sometimes.”

You chuckled and shook your head, finishing off the frosting on your fork.

“And I will continue to do so!”

He groaned as you went off to fetch the gifts. However, he would not be grumbling when he removed the tissue paper and revealed the high class mechanic tools.

“Y/N! These are crazy expensive!” he exclaimed, taking the screwdriver set out, his eyes sparkling as he inspected them. 

“Well, I heard you say you would love to have them. I wanted to buy you something you’d actually use.” you leaned against the table, watching him enthusiastically dig through the tissue paper, uncovering other items. There was a blubber-beast chain for his diving gear, a box of four raspberry tarts, and a pocket-sized sketchbook.

He took the little paperweight out and giggled at the penguin.

“Ok, this is pretty cute.” he set it on the table. “I can use it to keep my instruction manuals open!”

“That’s what I was thinking! It’s like it had your name on it.”

He looked up at you with a wide smile. 

“Thanks for this.” he said sincerely. “I know you’re busy with schoolwork and your work for the theater. I’m happy to celebrate with you.”

You crossed your arms with a modest expression.

“I can always find time for my close friends and such. You only have one birthday a year, after all, I have to be there.”

He put the gifts back in the bag and set it on the other side of the empty cake plate. 

“Hey, would you wanna go for a walk in the Dryas Woods with me?” he fiddled with some torn tissue paper. “I want to go somewhere peaceful before the excitement of the party.” 

You hummed in approval, taking the empty plates to the sink.

“I can’t deny you today of all days. We can go when you’re ready.” 

+

It was a cooler day, still a little damp from the hours of steady rain they received the day before. The leaves above created a pattern on the path below.

“This way, I want to show you something!” he beckoned you with his hand and veered off the path.

The breeze was more earthen here, further away from the sea. Sparrows flew away from the trees as they passed underneath them, chirping lightly. They came out into a small meadow between two pine hills.

Honeybees zipped through the wildflowers: sunflowers, cranesbills, and bushes of white peonies. 

You ran your hands over the knee-high blooms, careful not to disturb working bees.

Freminet sat down on a rock in the middle of the field, observing the closest flowers around him.

You sat down below him on the slight hill, the little meadow immediately giving you peace of mind.

“I come here a lot when I’m alone.” he explained. “The flowers growing tall, the wildlife that comes when you sit still long enough. I have a lot of places like this, but none just as perfect as this one. Even Pers likes it.” 

A little gust of wind blew by, some petals loosing into the air. His hair, damaged by an excess of saltwater, wisped around his face. He closed his eyes for a moment and then gave you a small smile.

“I wanted to share it with you. What do you think?”

“I love it here.” you replied, flopping back and laying in the flowers. “But I’m supposed to be the one giving you things today.”

He rolled his eyes.

“This is a gift for me- getting to be in my favorite spot with someone I trust.”

You closed your eyes.

“It is one of the best feelings to welcome someone into a space that is your own. I wish life could be more like this, slow and fragrant and thoughtful.”

He nodded and plucked a cranesbill bloom, twirling it in his hands. A handful of butterflies meandered about the colorful field.

You stayed until Freminet’s party neared, watching birds and sharing tales. You walked with him back to the boarding school to retrieve his birthday gifts and then escorted him to the Hotel Bouffes d'ete. 

“Have fun tonight!” you exclaimed, waving at him as you backed away.

He waved back.

“See you later!”

You turned and began to go home, the night growing chilly. The light from the Hotel was inviting, shining on the stone street as if to display its pride for the inhabitants. 

Freminet’s home, a place you could never know. 

A place where tonight, his found family would adore him and celebrate his life thus far. 

A place where he usually returned after a day of violence and isolation.

You had your opinions, but what mattered tonight was that Freminet was loved. 

And he would always be very much loved, even if the Hotel were to disappear.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

*neuvillette sniffles in the background (he had a rough day yesterday)*

ITS INTERNATIONAL POOKIE WOOKIE DAY GUYS! Scene 3 of the main fic is up!

the birthday art is PRECIOUS

Part 1 of the fanfic if you’re interested in reading from the beginning:

Part 3 of the fanfic if you been here before:

[emma23]

The chains we wear:

Steven grant x reader

————————————————————————

The hum of the museum's fluorescent lights was the only sound filling the air as Y/N leaned against the counter of the souvenir shop, watching Steven Grant with mild amusement. His brown curls were in disarray, his sleeves rolled up as he nervously rearranged the shelves of mini pyramids and scarab beetles for the hundredth time. She smiled, knowing full well that no one had touched the display since the morning. It was just Steven’s way—fidgeting when he felt nervous or out of place.

"You know," she began, pushing herself off the counter and crossing her arms, "you’ve already organized those scarabs three times today. Are you trying to summon an ancient Egyptian god or something?"

Steven jumped at the sound of her voice, his glasses sliding slightly down his nose as he turned to face her. "Oh, blimey, sorry, love! Didn’t mean to, uh, zone out there. It’s just, you know, I’ve been reading up on some hieroglyphs and, well, turns out these little scarabs—well, not these specifically, they’re just plastic—but the real ones, they were a symbol of Khepri, the god of rebirth and the sunrise! Fascinating stuff, right?"

Y/N grinned, unable to stop herself from enjoying his rambling. His passion for ancient Egypt never failed to charm her, even when it veered into the absurd. "That is fascinating, Steven. But I think the tourists just want a cute paperweight, not a lesson in Egyptian mythology."

He blushed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Right, yeah. Sorry. I tend to go on a bit, don’t I?"

"A bit? Try a lot," she teased, stepping closer to him. Her eyes softened as she took in the sight of him, still nervously shifting from one foot to the other. "But it’s cute. You’re cute."

Steven’s blush deepened, and he stammered, "Oh, uh, th-thanks. That’s…that’s really nice of you to say, love."

They fell into a comfortable silence for a moment, Steven awkwardly adjusting his glasses, and Y/N leaning against the counter, watching him with a fondness she hadn’t expected to feel so strongly.

"I've been meaning to ask you something," she said, breaking the silence.

"Yeah? What’s that?"

Her lips curled into a mischievous smile. "Why haven’t you asked me out yet?"

Steven froze, his hands mid-reach towards a display of keychains. "W-What?" His eyes widened behind his glasses, the panic in them unmistakable. "Ask…ask you out?"

"Yeah," Y/N said casually, as if she hadn't just dropped a bombshell. "You know, like dinner? A date?"

"I, uh—" Steven sputtered, his hands now flailing as if trying to find something to do. "I didn’t think you’d—well, I mean, why would you—"

"Steven," she interrupted, placing a hand on his arm to stop his nervous energy. "I like you. You’re sweet, and you’re smart, and I think you’re a little bit brilliant."

"You… you do?"

She nodded, her smile softening as she saw his shock. "Yeah, I do."

For a moment, Steven was speechless. He blinked, looking at her as if she were a mirage that might disappear at any second. But Y/N was real, and so was the warmth in her eyes. "I… I’d love to," he finally said, a shy grin spreading across his face. "Dinner, I mean. I’d really love to take you to dinner."

"Good," she said, stepping even closer, her voice dropping slightly. "Because I don’t want to wait any longer."

Dinner had been… well, it had been a disaster, but in the most Steven-like way possible. He’d accidentally ordered the wrong dish—twice—and nearly knocked over a vase of flowers when trying to pull out her chair. But Y/N had laughed through the entire evening, charmed by his awkwardness, by his honesty. There was something so refreshing about Steven, something so real.

Now, they were back at his flat, a cozy, cluttered space filled with books and Egyptian artifacts, the walls adorned with maps and charts. It was chaotic but warm, much like Steven himself.

"Sorry ‘bout the mess," he mumbled, moving a pile of books off the couch so she could sit down. "I’ve been, you know, a bit busy with work and—"

"It’s perfect," she interrupted, sitting down and patting the spot next to her. "Just like you."

Steven hesitated for a moment before sitting next to her, his hand brushing hers tentatively. "Y/N… I really don’t know what you see in me."

"Why do you say that?"

"Well, I mean, look at me!" He gestured to himself, his eyes wide and uncertain. "I’m not exactly, you know, smooth. I can barely make it through dinner without causing a catastrophe."

Y/N chuckled softly, turning to face him, her hand resting on his cheek. "That’s what I like about you, Steven. You’re real. You don’t put on an act. You’re just… you."

Steven’s breath hitched, and he leaned into her touch, his heart racing in his chest. He still couldn’t quite believe that this was happening, that she was here, with him. But when she leaned in and kissed him, soft and slow, everything else faded away.

Their clothes ended up in a crumpled heap on the floor, his hands tentative but eager as they explored her skin. He was gentle, almost reverent, as if he couldn’t quite believe she was real. And when she whispered his name, breathless and soft, it sent a shiver down his spine.

Steven wasn’t like anyone else she had ever been with. He was hesitant, unsure, but so full of emotion that it made her heart ache. His touch was soft, his kisses slow and deep, like he wanted to memorize every inch of her. And when he finally moved against her, it was with a care and tenderness that made her feel like she was the only person in the world.

"Y/N," he breathed, his voice rough with emotion, "I…I can’t believe this is happening."

She smiled, pressing a kiss to his lips. "It is, Steven. And it’s perfect."

Later, as they lay tangled together in the sheets, Y/N rested her head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. She felt content, more content than she had in a long time.

"Promise me something," she said, her voice soft.

Steven blinked, still caught in the afterglow of their intimacy. "Anything, love. I promise."

"You don’t even know what I’m going to ask."

"It doesn’t matter," he said, his fingers brushing her hair gently. "Ask me for anything. To be careful with you, to be honest with you, to bring you someone's head on a plate." He chuckled softly, his voice full of warmth. "I’ll say yes, love. You're not the only one in chains here."

Y/N laughed, nuzzling against him. "You’re such a dork."

"I try," Steven replied, grinning down at her, his eyes full of affection.

She leaned up, her lips brushing against his as she whispered, "Just promise me you’ll never change. I like you exactly the way you are."

Steven’s heart swelled, and he kissed her softly, lingering for a moment before pulling back with a sheepish grin. "I don’t think I could change even if I wanted to, love. I’m stuck with myself."

"Good," she murmured, settling back into his arms. "Because I’m stuck with you too.

[sirhamburrger]

chapter 1: you don’t buy drinks at a gala

double life [kuroo x f!reader]

word count: 1247 || prologue (series masterlist) || next

tetsuro smiles politely and shakes the hand of one of his major stakeholders, subtly chancing a glance towards the de facto centerpiece of the ballroom. it's a majestic marble bust of some really old guy from greece, carved by a slightly less old guy from greece (still old). by the end of tonight, it'll probably end up in some rich businessman's private collection.

that is, if it doesn't cause an international incident tonight in this very hotel building.

his intel from various sources, including kenma and akaashi, says these master-thief wannabes have been planning this for months now, and the mediocre henchman he caught ahold of didn't even have to be tortured before he spilled. he noticed the security the second he walked in. he knows every man on the roster, and he knows these men aren't on the roster.

too easy, right? much too easy. the bad guys show up to steal the oversized paperweight. he pretends to be scared for a moment while yaku and bokuto swoop in and take them out. he bids the highest amount for it and boom - he's got a shiny new statue and a nice casualty-free night. everyone is happy.

“good evening, kuroo.”

and it looks like his evening just got all that much better.

he turns around and there she is, looking annoyed like she doesn't want to be here. and yet as the heiress to her own fortune, she's here anyway, stuck in the same boat as he is. she's breathtaking in her gown, the fabric hugging her curves just right.

“good evening, sweetheart,” he breathes. “you look stunning tonight.”

“yeah, well, i'll see you at the next stupid gala,” she mutters, already walking away. “you know i only do this to satisfy the tabloids, anyway.”

sadly, it's true. as two of the richest young people in gotham city, their non-existent relationship has been the subject of numerous magazines. he's tried to make the rumors true - on more than one occasion - but she just seems… cold. distant.

but tonight is the night this all changes.

hopefully.

“wait!” he finds himself calling out. 

she turns her head, looking surprised as his face reddens. her expression quickly morphs into one of impatience. 

“spit it out already, rooster-head. i’ve got other overconfident millionaires to say my perfunctory greetings to.” she crosses her arms over her chest, waiting expectantly.

“damn, she kinda just ate you up.” kenma yawns, and seconds later tetsuro hears the annoying sound of chips being crunched loudly - right into his ear, no less. “better hurry it up, casanova, they're going to give the signal in approximately eighty seconds.”

irritated, he nods his head just enough for the earpiece to pick up on his movement. “let me buy you a drink tonight, how about that?” he says in what he hopes is a nonchalant tone, praying she didn't notice him nodding to no one in particular like a psycho.

she fixes him with an expression which practically screams, are you serious? 

“you don't buy drinks at a gala, smartass.”

“my mistake!” he yelps, trying to maintain his composure. “let me just - grab-” he snatches two flutes of champagne off the tray of a passing waiter, almost knocking the poor man over, and he swear he sees her lips quirk upwards at the slip-up. not quite what he was going for, he thinks, but it's definitely a start.

“thank you,” she murmurs, a twinkle in her eye. their fingers brush as he hands the glass to her by the stem, and slowly he starts to lead her to the middle of the ballroom. thankfully, she follows. as they pass under the largest central chandelier, he's about to make the bold move of wrapping his arm around her waist, but then he hears kenma inhale sharply, and yaku’s slow, rattling breathing.

something’s not right.

“talk to me,” he mutters without moving his lips. “what do you see?”

the harsh clacking of a keyboard fills his ears. “we have visuals on unidentified trespassers. they're positioned in the gallery, near the bolts holding up the chandeliers. one well-placed shot and there'll be a shit-load of chandelier raining down on everyone on the ground floor.”

not good.

“yaku, where are you?” he says aloud now, urgency filling his voice. she looks at him like he's lost his mind, then turns to look up at where he's looking.

a masked gunman squeezes his way through the crowd to the railing of the gallery. he cocks his gun, aims.

and fires.

tetsuro growls out a swear, pushing her out of the way as a mountain of metal and crystal crashes down on top of them. he hears the slight choking noise she lets out as the impact of his tackle knocks the air our of her lungs, feels the sharp pain of a piece of broken crystal jabbing into his right arm. his left leg is pinned under the weight of the chandelier and he curses.

horrified, she wrenches herself out from under him, breathing heavily as she backs away slowly. “stay here, i'll get help, ‘kay?”

“go,” he says through gritted teeth. he watches her disappear into the panicked crowd, waiting until the last of the civilians has almost left to try extricating himself from under the chandelier.

“bro, that’s a nasty cut you got there!” bokuto swoops through the double doors over the heads of some awestruck finance guys. “yaku’s out of commission, by the way. he got shot with some kind of sedative.”

“isn't he, like, the flash?” tetsuro says dryly, wincing slightly as the kryptonian lifts the huge light fixture with his superhuman strength. rolling to the side, he lies on the ground, catching his breath. bokuto offers him a hand, and he grabs on, allowing his friend to pull him up. he presses a button on his watch, and the suit materialises over his body like a second skin. “dodging attacks is kind of his thing.”

“he says he didn't even hear or feel it coming.” bokuto signals to akaashi that it's safe, the cyborg leaps down from the gallery, sending dust spiraling into the still air as he lands. “we took out the henchmen, but there's something off.”

it was never really about the statue, was it?

just then a figure breaks through the drywall to their left, groaning loudly as they lay in the rubble. the huge cloud of dust obstructs their view almost completely. 

“you think?” akaashi says dryly. tetsuro fires up his stun-gun.

“identify yourse-”

“shut up, asshat.” the gruff, annoyed voice carries through the still air, albeit hoarser than usual. “joker and ace are waiting outside, by the way. i hope they get you.”

“nice to see you again, nightwing,” he says, deadpan, as akaashi goes to check on her. “glad to know you haven't changed a bit since the last time we met.”

her escrima sticks - batons wired with high-voltage tasers - lie on the floor beside her, and she sweeps them up into her grasp as she gets to her feet, walking back in the direction she was thrown from. “neither have you,” she retorts. “good to know. now, are you just going to stand back and watch as i take them on myself?”

tetsuro balls his fists up. she’s damn near insufferable when she gets like this. 

superman laughs. “damn, she kinda just ate you up-”

“shut up, bokuto.”

he steels his resolve, and they all follow her into the inevitable danger that awaits.

author's notes:

so this is a miraculous ladybug kind of situation ig?? where kuroo loves reader and hates nightwing and reader hates kuroo and loves batman

ace isn't a canon dc villain as far as i know, but you'll see who it is later :) i'm kinda proud of this idea

not much to say tbh

TAGLIST: @kr1nqu, @weezerbby, @honeytwo (open, send an ask to be added!)

© sirhamburrger 2024

[compacflt]

the thought of icemav celebrating christmas together makes me a bit crazy. what do they give each other???

usually nothing . That’s kind of a big deal. in the 80s/90s they’d (reluctantly) celebrate Christmas with carole and bradley (who took that shit kinda seriously) so they wouldn’t really do anything by themselves. Maybe go out for a nice clandestine dinner just cause. After Carole dies and Bradley’s papers get pulled from the academy, ice’s low key newfound interest in celebrating christmas is one of his many many ways to try and normalize relations between him & maverick and try to improve their relationship in the conspicuous absence of the rest of their family. but yes he does make an effort��as does mav—to take advantage of holiday time to be with him as often as possible so, though their schedules don’t always line up, after 2006 they spend about 3/4 xmases together

Ice has very few hobbies besides a.) lovingly working on his cars & plane and b.) reading, so he is exceptionally easy to shop for (as most hobbyless men are): nice tie pins, cufflinks, those unnecessarily expensive hardcover books about weird random topics you find in airport bookstores, fountain pens, nautical /aeronautical themed paperweights, nice leather watchbands etc. highbrow rich guy stuff

Maverick has sooooo many stupid little hobbies that each last between 4-6 months so he is ridiculously hard to shop for— “i thought you were into woodworking so i got you some tools :)!” “uh no that was in April. im trying to learn how to make wallets now” :( so mostly if ice ever gets him anything it’s usually just an expensive dinner date in the city or cash in a blank card or a blank signed check for airplane parts for the next year. Buy whatever you want idc <3

any and all gifts are given with extremely little fanfare PLEASE don’t make it a big deal… hidden around the house with a little “merry xmas!” note attached, or shoved into each others suitcases pre-leaving-for-navy-reasons, or unceremoniously dropped into one’s lap while he’s watching tv, “here you go,” “oh, this is nice, thanks!” Et cetera. love language of gifts/acts of service, but, like, very quietly.

[theink-stainedfolk]

How to Ruin High Society in Ten Easy Steps

---

It started, as most absurd things do, with an argument.

Jovan stormed into Julan’s chambers, his boots thudding against the polished floor. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” he snapped, slamming the door behind him.

Julan—or rather, Landon Xavier—barely looked up from the book he was pretending to read. He lounged on the chaise, his posture the picture of indifference. “Good morning to you too, little brother. To what do I owe this delightful visit?”

“You insulted Lord Hargrave at the ball last night! The man holds half the trade routes to the north, and now he’s threatening to pull out of our family’s contracts!”

Julan smirked. “I didn’t insult him. I merely pointed out that his wig was on backward. Hardly my fault he doesn’t have a sense of humor.”

Jovan groaned, dragging a hand through his hair. “You’re impossible.”

“Oh, come on. You used to be much better at insults yourself.” Julan shot him a sidelong glance, his smirk faltering. “What happened to you, Jovan? You were a brat, sure, but you had some bite. Now you’re just... boring.”

Jovan froze. His gaze sharpened, and a flicker of something unreadable crossed his face.

“And you,” Jovan said slowly, pointing an accusing finger at Julan, “you’re not my brother.”

The room went still.

Julan raised an eyebrow. “Come again?”

“You’re not my brother,” Jovan repeated, his voice low but firm. “You’re too different. Smarter. Calmer. You actually read books now instead of using them as paperweights.”

Julan set his book down, his smirk returning. “And you’re suspiciously more competent than you used to be. So, what’s your excuse?”

Jovan’s eyes widened. “Wait. You’re...?”

“Not Julan?” Julan finished for him, leaning forward with a conspiratorial grin. “Bingo. Name’s Landon Xavier. Software developer. Thirty-two. I woke up in this nightmare of corsets and wigs about a month ago.”

Jovan blinked, his jaw slack. “You... you came from the future?”

“And you...” Julan tilted his head, studying him. “...you’re not the useless little brother everyone thinks you are anymore. You regressed, didn’t you?”

The words hung in the air for a moment before Jovan let out a bark of laughter. “Unbelievable. I thought I was the only one cursed with this madness.”

“Cursed?” Julan echoed, standing up. “You got a second chance! I’d kill for that.”

“You might have to, considering your track record,” Jovan quipped, his grin widening.

For a moment, the two stared at each other, a strange understanding settling between them. Then, as if by some unspoken agreement, they both burst into uncontrollable laughter.

By the time they calmed down, Julan was sprawled on the chaise again, wiping tears from his eyes. “You have no idea how relieved I am. I’ve been dying to talk to someone who gets it.”

Jovan sat on the edge of the desk, a rare, genuine smile on his face. “Same. Do you know how hard it is to pretend I’m still that reckless idiot while trying to fix everything before it goes to hell again?”

“Well, you’re doing a decent job of it,” Julan said, giving him a mock salute. “Everyone thinks you’ve turned over a new leaf. It’s almost inspiring.”

“And you...” Jovan gestured at him. “...you’re fooling everyone too. Even Lanivel, who hates your guts, is starting to notice you’re not the same.”

At the mention of Lanivel, Julan groaned. “Don’t remind me. That guy watches me like I’m a ticking time bomb. Which, to be fair, I was before. But now? I’m just trying to stay out of trouble.”

Jovan smirked. “Oh, you’re in trouble, all right. You should’ve seen the way Lanivel was glaring at you when Emlyn defended you at dinner last night.”

“Emlyn?” Julan frowned. “What’s her deal, anyway? She hates me—well, the old me—but now she’s being all... nice.”

“Don’t get used to it,” Jovan warned. “She’s probably plotting something.”

“Oh, she definitely is,” Julan said, grinning. “And I’m going to help her. Breaking this engagement is priority number one.”

Jovan raised an eyebrow. “You’re actually working with her? You really have changed.”

“Hey, I’m a modern man in a medieval world. Adapt or die, right?”

For a moment, Jovan just stared at him, then shook his head with a chuckle. “You know, for once, I think this family might actually survive.”

Julan grinned. “You and me, little bro. The unstoppable duo.”

Jovan smirked, extending his hand. “Partners in crime?”

Julan took it with a firm shake. “Always.”

---

My ♡s: @paeliae-occasionally @willtheweaver @drchenquill @wyked-ao3 @the-inkwell-variable

@corinneglass @seastarblue @frostedlemonwriter-deactivated2

[devilbeez]

Headcanon collection #14

Random FloydxRiddle fluff

Riddle’s weak to Floyd doing the hold hand kiss the knuckles thing

Riddle some time question if dropping his mom out of his life as the right choice and Floyd just take his hand and kiss his knuckle because he can see Riddle was worried and Riddle just “you know what? Yes. Yes it was the right choice—“

“I can show you the world~ top shelf, pantry, no tip toe” — Floyd @ Riddle at some point probably

When the boys are old enough to try alcohol the third years were supervising and they told them “your limit is one drink” and because Riddle had no experience he thought he could just chug the bottle in one go, so obviously he got drunk and it’s the one time Floyd the responsible one between the two and take care of Riddle. With that being said tho Floyd still would draw on on Riddle face with sharpie

Riddle did not handle his first time being drunk well and end up being chaotic, he even chase Floyd for a change

Riddle being Riddle there probably things he never say sober or just— generally complimenting Floyd and saying couple like stuff so when he’s drunk there just random slip of “you have beautiful eyes” and Floyd capture every moment of it and he refuse to delete it

Riddle and Floyd date would be at like festival date it just make sense and I can’t explain

Speaking of festivals date, Floyd won Riddle an Eel plush and now he have something that represents Floyd in his room. Eventually Riddle won him a goldfish plush so now there just a special space in both their room for those plushes. They both insist on calling the plushies their children

That btw is what cause Riddle to spiral down plushies hole Floyd got him more plushies this time hedgehog ones

Floyd message Riddle during class from time to time and Riddle going through the corruption arc and not as strict with rules now sometimes replies. But there are time he doesn’t want to respond cause you know class and there are time when Floyd so excited about something so you just have

Floyd: GOLDFISHY LOOK

Riddle: I’ll do it later I’m in class

Floyd: I GOT A NEW SHOES LOOK AT IT

Riddle: good for you but I am in class

Floyd: LOOK AT IT GOLDFISHY IT SO COOL—

Riddle: I A M I N C L A S S

Floyd sometimes messaging Riddle like “this pebble remind me of you 🥰” Riddke keep all of the pebbles. He never been gifted something before especially it’s his mom so now he keep everything Floyd give him

Trey: …riddle is that a rock?

Riddle: huh— oh that’s Rockington jr. Yeah I use him as paperweight sometimes leave him there

Trey: …I’m sorry I still stuck on the fact that it have a name and it’s “Rockington Junior”

Riddle: yeah Rockington senior is over there by Floyd Jr.

Trey: ….Riddle that an eel plush

Riddle: I never said I’m the one naming it— blame Floyd—

This video. That is all

After they get together Floyd take Riddle to petting zoo for his birthday. He say it’s for Riddle cause he love small animals like hedgehogs but in reality it both for Riddle and for him to meet his goat friend Sir Wayne Georgia Wellington the third

Riddle’s mom hate Floyd because let’s be honest just as friends Floyd is already a bad influence, but as boyfriend there will be no turning back for Riddle. Literally the only thing holding them all back is his love for rule. And even that doesn’t hold them back that much considering Riddle have becoming more and more chill with the rules

They once made the mistake of sitting down and having family dinner with Riddle’s mom and eventually at some point Floyd or literally anyone snap and went on a rant like “—AND ANOTHER THING YOU SHOULD APPRECIATE HIM MORE BECAUSE HE’S AMAZING AS HE IS, AND ANOTHER THING YOU’RE NEED TO LOWER YOUR STANDARDS, AND ANOTHER THING—“ and it just keep going, no one stop him they just sit there eating their meal like “huh this place have nice salad”

Most people would think Riddle the one taking their first valentines seriously and .Floyd just don’t really care when it’s the opposite. Floyd want to do everything and even try and planned stuff for the day with Jade and Azul help cause he thought Riddle would be all over this since “rule of valentines and stuff” while Riddle barely planned anything out cause either 1. He never really care for valentines and don’t get why couples like it 2. He just straight up forgot it’s valentines cause he don’t have it in his calendar or 3. He thought Floyd wouldn’t really wanna celebrate so he just expected to spend their day like usual and maybe go on a regular date-hang out and not date date

Adding to this, because Riddle didn’t expect a date he almost go with Floyd in his school uniform then Cater pull him away and tell Floyd to wait. This lead to Trey and ADeuce messing around like “what is your intention with my son?”

Riddle’s mom think Floyd come on to Riddle as friends or boyfriend for the money. But then we cut to this mf Only wanting to buy shoes on some occasions and only want to ever buy tiny ducks to mess with Azul. Like

Mrs. Riddle: he probably want our money

Floyd with his new shoes and lil ducklings: and I’ll call you goldfish Jr. and you Ducklia, and you will be Tako because Azul would hate that—

Riddle only stole hoodie because man read somewhere it what couple do but he like it so much because they comfy Floyd no longer have hoodies— they just all at Heartslayul

Because the lounge being you know basically a restaurant, they need to decorate for stuff and sometime they need to buy things so they rotate between every members for decoration shopping in the town and one time Floyd was assigned the role and invited Riddle cause Riddle rarely get out and it basically go

Floyd: come on it’ll be fun!

Riddle: I don’t know—

Floyd: here talk to Azul he’d cover for your work if you say it to supervise me

Riddle: no he wouldn’t he know you responsible enough

Floyd: does he? Does he really?

Riddle: ……*call azul* hey so I’m here with Floyd he said he’s going to go into town and I was thinking—

Azul: he need supervision? Agree, I’ll cover your work thank *hang up*

Riddle: ……well show me the town I guess—

Riddle one time went out with the shirt Floyd made him wear saying “cunt era” first he didn’t wanna but as day went on he got over it and just vibing. And then his mother somehow find out and about to start lecturing, out of pure being done, I give no fuck mix with couldn’t change personality in time moment he went “I don’t approved of your parenting and you don’t see me complaining” And that the story of how Riddle moved out of the house at 17–

they adopted 2 kids in the future a set of twins merfolk and fate have it so that the kids are octopus merfolk so as soon as Floyd know he just shaking from excitement cause Azul gonna be so happy. A couple of years later it backfired and Azul keep saying he gonna steal the kid cause one time the kid saw Azul merform and got so excited cause he’s just like them

Kid: will I get to see uncle azul merform? :D

Floyd: probably not kid, he doesn’t like—

Azul, in his merform: please don’t answer for me Floyd

Kid: *shaking from excitement and have the brightest smile anyone ever seen* UNCLE AZUL IS LIKE MEE!!

Azul also spoiled them rotten btw, he love his niece/nephew so much and Riddle got so much headache from it

Leaning into my ship here but I like to believe Azul brought Riddle and Floyd kids one of those kids instrument that doesn’t have a lower volume button. Jade just give them a teddy bear…..that have a voice box and a button on its hand and the voice line is “I love uncle Azul and uncle Jade more than everyone else” Floyd think it’s funny and Riddle hated it so much— he haven’t been in a quiet house in days—

When Riddle moved out and was about to send her a gift but Floyd the chaos skyscraper intercept it and gift her like a bunch of things that say stuff like “worst mom ever” “fuck you whore” “⬆️ Karen”

Floyd don’t say Riddle’s name often but when he does he do it in private and in intimate moments like saying “I love you”, proposing etc and it melt Riddle every time. His name being said by Floyd is one of those things that he love and couldn’t explain why

[dungeons-and-dragon-age]

for the rook asks- 1, 8, 9, 10, 13, 22 and 23 for ylva :]

[ask game]

Hey hey, thanks for the ask Roscoe!! c:

1. How old is Rook?

Pretty young! Like. 24is maybe? She started out late 30s in my head but quickly became younger lol. Dunno. Something about her whole vibe and attitude that gives Young and Inexperienced and Eager To Please

8. What makes Rook a good leader?

Good question! xd She is not actually much of a leader type, at least not in a big setting like this, so she is kind of in over her head here. That said, her being ultimately not the best suited also means that she is someone who highly values the opinions and feelings of others when it comes to making decisions, but she's able to grit her teeth and make a call if she has to even if she's unsure about it (and will regret it later lol)

9. What is Rook like on the battlefield?

Hesitant, most of the time. Against darkspawn for Obvious reasons i think lol, but also against anyone who is A Living Being. It's incredibly different from fighting spirits in pretty much every way, including her mindset, and it's tough for her to adjust. That said, Ylva is a nimble fighter!

10. Does Rook know their history? Do they know of the HoF, Hawke, the Inquisitor?

Roughly, yeah! She knows enough about history to know that it should be taken with a grain of salt lol, but she's heard and read about all of them. I don't know which worldstate she'll end up in but if i'm keeping her in Ari's that means that Kala is the HoF, and i think she'd find it inspiring to know that a casteless dwarf ended the last blight, especially since that's kind of what she has to do now, too. She's tried asking Varric about Hawke and the Inquisitor; he'd say a thing or two about Ari but didn't know him that well, and for as much as he loves talking about the Kirkwall crew it's hard to get any concrete information about Hawke out of him.

13. Did Rook bring any trinkets/sentimental items to The Lighthouse?

She brought a bunch of little things, her pens and slippers, things like that. Notable are her favourite beetle shaped paperweight and a bone comb with skull carvings. Always makes her grin how on the nose the motifs are, but she likes them and they remind her of home.

22. Most embarrassing memory as a teenager:

..i will have to get back to you on that x'dd I cannae think of a good story rn

23. What does Rook wear in the off hours? Do they like dressing up?

Something comfy! She likes things that are fairly form-fitting but not too tight, nice n soft, and ideally at least a leettle fancy looking. She doesn't dress up too much but like she said, a Watcher's gotta have some standards u.u Also, Ylva feels like she has to keep up appearances at least a bit, yk

[marvel1012]

I shelved this fic a while ago, since it was supposed to be a backstory for my first Rook and then the faction origins dropped and retconned everything I had written. Now I just consider Valeria to be an OC in the DA universe. In honor of Emmrich's podcast episode being so fun, I decided to post it anyway. So here it is, friends! 4,396 words about a girl with a gift and the necromancer who spirited her away.

___________________________________

As the light in her study dimmed from a passing cloud, Valeria squinted to make out the shaky, faded handwriting on the scroll that was sitting in front of her. It had been an unusually rainy autumn in Nevarra, but she stubbornly refused to light more lanterns in the office– the merchants weren’t exactly handing out the lamp oil for free these days. She raised the brittle parchment closer to her face and caught a whiff of its musty odor. This document had been improperly housed in some attic or cellar during its lifetime, and the ensuing moisture damage only served to make the already terrible penmanship harder to read.

With a sigh, she gave up and tossed the scroll onto her desk, where it landed with a soft crunch. A little fragment of the record broke away and fell to the table. 

Whoops. 

Leaning back into her plush velvet chair, Val couldn’t help but rub at her eyes until she saw a kaleidoscope of color behind the lids. After staring at scrolls and ledger books all day, they felt dry enough to roll right out of her head. “Andraste’s teats, when will I ever find this marriage contract?” 

Someone loudly cleared their throat nearby. 

“Who-?” she yelped, startled by the intrusion into her office. 

Edda, her assistant, gave a rueful smile. “Sorry, m’lady, but I wanted to remind you about your meeting this afternoon. With Miss Van Korver?” 

Valeria couldn’t help but groan, “Arrgh, was that today? What time?” 

“Erm, well, now, messere. She’s here right now.” 

Valeria took a deep breath to steady herself, lest she launch the closest paperweight across the room and in the general direction of Edda’s face. 

After a moment of silence, she nodded. “Alright, Edda, thank you. Please send in Miss Van Meyer.”

“Uh, it’s Van Korver, m’lady.” 

The annoyed researcher made a shooing gesture, “Oh, whatever her name is. Just get her in here.” 

Edda scurried out into the hallway and then returned a moment later, ushering in a well-dressed, well-coiffed, well-lacquered young woman. She was tall, slender, and blond– quite the contrast to most Nevarrans, who tended toward swarthy complexions and stocky builds. Her unique look would have stood out in any Nevarra City crowd, and probably earned her plenty of jealous side-eye from the other noble girls. She was different, and therefore easily othered. 

She was perfect.  

Val stood and took Van Korver’s outstretched hand in both of hers, “Oh, Miss Van Korver, it’s so lovely to meet you, won’t you have a seat?” 

The younger stranger’s smile wasn’t very genuine. Valeria could tell because it didn’t even reach her eyes. Those flinty blue orbs were like a pair of ice chips as she settled into the chair opposite the desk. “Of course, so nice to meet you as well. And please, call me Carolin.” 

“Carolin,” Valeria nodded and took her own seat. “Your servant indicated that you were interested in applying for membership in the Society of the Bloomed Skull.” 

The other woman sniffed. “Yes. You came very highly recommended by Lady Herreshoff, she said your research and writing skills were impeccable. In fact, she said that were it not for your help, she would’ve never made it into the Society at all.”

Valeria’s smile brightened as she thought, “You don’t know the half of it.”  

Outloud she said, “I very much appreciate Lady Herreshoff’s kind words. Did she, by chance, mention my fee?” 

“Yes. And she said you’re worth every copper, even though you’re-“ she caught herself before she finished the thought, but she didn’t have to spell it out. Valeria was well aware of what they thought of her. Although she’d been born in Nevarra City, and her family had moved here from the Free Marches decades ago, no matter how hard she worked for them, they still didn’t consider her good enough. She wasn’t “really Nevarran”. It was a refrain that still rankled, even after a solid twenty-six years of hearing it. 

Valeria covered the awkward silence by rummaging around in a desk drawer. “Very well, let me just procure a quill from insi- aha, here’s one- and I’ll need your signature on this agreement. I take one half of the fee up front, the rest when I deliver your completed application.” 

She handed Carolin the quill, placed an ink pot on the opposite side of the desk so she could reach it, and slid over a piece of parchment that already had the terms printed on it. Carolin barely glanced at the form before signing it. “My kind of gal,” Valeria thought. 

With that done, it was time to get down to brass tacks. Steepling her fingers on the desk, Valeria tried to look like she was deeply invested in Miss Van Korver’s family lore. 

“Now, before I can proceed with acquiring the necessary documents to accompany your application, I need to know the name of your earliest progenitor, to which I will attempt to prove a direct connection.” 

Carolin sat up straighter and puffed out her chest, peering down her nose. “Sigisvult,” she stated matter of factly.

Valeria’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Sigisvult?. THE Sigisvult, the very first Dragonbane of Nevarra?” 

“Why, don’t you see the family resemblance?” Carolin turned her head to the side, to give a better angle on her profile. As if anybody would look like their ancestor that lived 500 years ago. 

“Oh, right, right. I see it now. Just like his statue on top of the Market District fountain. The spitting image, to be sure.” 

Carolin tossed a cascade of honey-gold hair over her shoulder and grinned at what she believed was a genuine compliment. She plucked a dainty, embroidered coin purse from her belt. 

“I have the first part of your payment here. The rest upon receipt of my proof documents.” 

“My dearest Carolin,” Valeria cooed as the bag of coins exchanged hands with a soft, metallic clink, “with your sterling pedigree, I assure you that the application is a trifling formality. You’re a shoe in for admission.”

With that, Valeria stood and gestured toward the door. Carolin followed obediently. As she swept out into the hallway in her elegant gown, the researcher called after her, “Oh, and give me two weeks to get your papers in order, please.” Just to be convincing, Valeria took three. 

————

The research into Carolin Van Korver’s family was easy and straightforward. By the third day Valeria had pretty much exhausted the scrolls and charts on the father’s side, and, Maferath be damned, she really was related to Sigisvult. He was her 17th great grandfather on her paternal grandfather’s line. There was no one of note on the mother’s side, but the information was included in the packet just the same. While the direct connection to Sigisvult Dragonbane would have been more than enough to guarantee her admission into the Bloomed Skull, dear Carolin should get her money’s worth. 

With the required proof documents gathered and summary report written, Valeria took advantage of the next several days of quiet, completing a few personal projects and even sneaking away for some “paid personal time” down at the archery range. She had rated an embarrassing fourth place at last year’s Winter’s End tournament, and was determined to avoid a repeat performance.  

When three weeks had passed, she sent Edda to fetch Carolin. As the younger woman stepped into the lantern light from the dim hallway, Valeria was shocked at how much her appearance had changed in just a few short weeks. She was sallow and disheveled, without so much as a smattering of rouge on her lips or cheeks. She had lost weight, and her once well-fitted clothing now hung on her frame. By the Maker, had she somehow managed to contract the plague? 

Carolin let out a soft groan as she sunk into the chair across from the desk, as if even the simple act of sitting down was taxing. Her eyes looked red rimmed, like she had been crying, or perhaps she had just been missing sleep. 

Valeria glanced over at Edda, who gave a shrug from her post by the door. 

“Thank you for coming on such short notice, Carolin,” Valeria began, “as you know, I’ve been working these last few weeks to conduct a thorough investigation of your family history, on both your maternal and paternal lines, to verify your eligibility for the Bloomed Skull, and to sufficiently document your connection to Sigisvult Dragonbane.” 

“I know what you’ve been doing, I paid you to do it, remember?” the other woman snapped. So much for the veneer of gentility. 

“Right, well, I thought I had everything in good order until a few days ago, when I was reviewing High Court cases at the royal library for another client.” 

Carolin narrowed her eyes. The message was clear: what does this have to do with me? 

Valeria cleared her throat and continued. “By chance, I came across a case that had your 9th great-grandfather’s name upon it. It was,” pause for dramatic effect, “a bastardy case.” 

She blinked. “A what?” 

Valeria stood and moved around the desk to Carolin’s side, and placed a reassuring hand on hers. “This is going to be difficult to hear, but I want you to know that your family’s secret is safe with me.” 

“Our what?” It was barely a whisper. She was shaking her head in disbelief. 

“Your 9th great-grandfather, on your father’s side, was not, in fact, the legitimate child of your 10th great grandfather, Sigisvult VII. He was actually the son of,” she leaned in, speaking low as if not wanting anybody else to hear, “an Orlesian chevalier.” 

Carolin recoiled, jerking away from Valeria’s touch. “You’re lying! This is some foul joke! You’re playing a  prank at my expense!” 

Now it was the researcher’s turn to shake her head. “I’m afraid it’s true. Of course, I didn’t want it to be, because I know this is going to cost you your admission to the Bloomed Skull. Your direct blood descent from the first Dragonbane was your ticket in, but with this discovery–” 

Carolin cut her off, sapphire eyes flashing with anger. “I don’t believe this, this, nonsense. Just because there was a court case doesn’t make it true! Someone could have been lying, someone could have been trying to besmirch us!” 

Aha. And there it was. Time for the final act of this little charade. 

“Of course, Carolin, I wanted to believe the very same. That this was just some terrible misunderstanding, or a nefarious plot by a rival house to sully the name of the great Sigisvult’s descendants. But alas, I know that it is the truth. Beyond a shadow of a doubt.” 

“How? How could you possibly–” 

“Because I asked.” 

“You, you, who, how?” she spluttered, clearly very confused. 

Valeria puffed herself up. Now it was her turn to look haughty. “I asked. I asked your 10th great grandmother, Fredreike of Wildervale, wife of Sigisvult VII.” Carolin opened her mouth to speak, but was waved off. 

“Spirits cannot lie.” Valeria didn’t know if that was true or not, but neither did Carolin, and it sounded good.”When I asked, Fredreike admitted her affair with the Orlesian. Told me all about it, actually. They met while she was at court serving Queen Cacilie Pentaghast, and the chevalier was a visiting representative of the Emperor. Their association was– brief– but, well, fruitful. Obviously.” 

Carolin’s eyes were wide as saucers. “You’re an agent of the Mortalitasi?” she hissed. 

“No, of course not. Merely a simple researcher with a gift.” The other woman looked dubious, so Valeria added a little flourish. “My mother had the gift as well, as did her mother before her. I come from a long line of women who can summon, and speak with, the spirits of the dead.” The key to crafting a good lie was to always couch it in a kernel of truth.  

Without warning, Carolin seemed to crumple in on herself. She burst into loud, wracking sobs, burying her face in her hands. While Valeria had expected her client to be dismayed, this reaction seemed a little over the top. After all, they were discussing an affair that allegedly happened over a century ago– the only impact it had on the present was loss of membership in a lineage society. 

Valeria glanced over at Edda, who looked equally taken aback at Carolin’s hysterics. It was normal for their clients to be disappointed or upset at this point in the reveal, but this was more than they had bargained for. She didn’t know what else to do, so Valeria awkwardly patted Carolin’s shaking shoulder. 

“There, there, it’s going to be okay. Surely you can find some other society to join. Perhaps the Sisters of the Glorious Poor?” That suggestion was a bit of a petty dig on her part. The Sisters were considered the lowliest of the benevolent organizations in the city– for one thing, their ranks were open to anyone who wished to join. And for another, they worked very closely with the city’s destitute populations: orphans, widows, lepers, and the like. Someone from Carolin’s social strata would rather pitch themselves off the top of the Grand Necropolis than be seen associating with the unwashed masses. 

“Y-you–you d-don’t–understaaaaand,” Carolin wailed into her hands. 

She was correct, Valeria really didn’t. She and Edda had played this little trick many times by now, and she’d never seen someone react this way. “Well, dear, why don’t you tell me what’s going on, so I can try?” 

Carolin took a couple of big, wet sniffs and then gave a pointed glance in Edda’s direction. Valeria took the hint and made a show of dismissing her assistant from the room. She gave a stately bow and closed the door behind her. She knew her mistress would fill her in once the client had gone. 

“Now, what is it that I don’t understand, Carolin?” Valeria produced a white handkerchief from a little wooden box on top of her desk. It wasn’t uncommon to discover tragic events in the course of genealogical research, so she kept them handy for clients who had to hear difficult information. Carolin dabbed at her eyes and then loudly blew her nose. 

“I have to get into the Bloomed Skull. I have to. If I don’t, my life is over.” She was staring down at her hands in her lap, fiddling with the handkerchief. 

“I still don’t understand. What do you mean?” 

She groaned in exasperation. “I mean, if I don’t get into the Bloomed Skull, then my life will be over. Maxi’s family will never accept me, they only marry Society ladies, and if we can’t get married then I’ll be ruined.” 

“Maxi?” Valeria thought for a moment. Which family would be so high station that something as silly as Bloomed Skull membership would make or break a marriage contract? Then, to her horror, it dawned on her. She grabbed Carolin’s upper arm without a thought for propriety. “Maximilian Van Markham?” 

“Yes! Maxi and I have been secretly engaged since the summer. He was only waiting on my admission to the Society to announce our betrothal to his parents and the rest of the family. I thought, we thought, that with Sigisvult, well, and, and we–” she trailed off in a fresh chorus of sobs, but this time, one of her hands drifted to her lower belly. 

Oooh, this was bad. But it was also very good.  

Valeria let her cry it out for a moment more, then stood and patted Carolin on the back. “Alright, Carolin, I think I know how we can fix this.” 

She blew her nose again and looked up with reddened, puffy eyes. “Y-you do?” 

“Obviously the pedigree chart can always be drawn up to appear as though your 9th great grandfather was legitimate. However, all applications to the Society are subject to review, so there’s a chance that the court case could be located by a third party during that process, and then our fraud would be exposed. Or at the very least, your application would still be denied.” 

“Well then it’s over. I’m finished.” 

“Now, hold on, let me think.” Valeria tapped her chin, pretending to ponder her options. “Nooo, we mustn’t risk someone else finding the court case,” she muttered under her breath. Then, she snapped her fingers. “I’ve got it! It’ll be difficult, nearly impossible, and very dangerous, but I think I know what to do.” 

Carolin grabbed her hand, her grip like a vice. “Tell me, please.” 

“I can access the royal library again under the guise of conducting further research. No bags or satchels are allowed inside, but I may be able to smuggle the offending scroll out on my person. From there, I could destroy it, and your family’s indiscretion would disappear forever.” 

“But, aren’t there duplicate copies of the cases elsewhere?” 

“Not when they’re as old as this case. The royal library maintains the only permanent copy of court cases from that age.” 

Carolin sighed and sunk back into the chair, relieved. “Then my application would be accepted, I’d be a Society lady, and Maxi and I can be together forever.” 

Valeria took a seat at her desk once more. “Yes, if I can manage this feat, then you’re saved. However, it’s going to be very difficult, and very dangerous.” She crooked an eyebrow in Carolin’s direction, but the hint wasn’t being received. She was too busy fantasizing about her upcoming wedded bliss. Valeria cleared her throat, “Ahem, I said very difficult, and very dangerous.” 

That seemed to bring Carolin back to herself. “Oh! Right, of course. You’ll want additional payment for your trouble. Of course.” She reached for the coin purse at her belt, then frowned. “But I’m afraid I’ve only brought what I already owed you for the application, and no more.” 

“Carolin, obviously I can’t be expected to put my career, nay, my life, on the line without some form of compensation.” 

“Right, yes, absolutely. Just,” she rose from the chair and made a stopping gesture with both hands, palms out, “just wait, and I’ll run home and grab the additional coin. How much do you want, is double your usual fee enough?” 

Val tried to play it cool, and not convey her excitement. “I suppose that will be sufficient.” 

Carolin bustled out of the office without another word. Valeria waited a moment, until she heard the front door open and slam shut, and then punched the air in front of her with a quiet “yesss”. This was, by far, going to be their biggest score yet. And all she had to do was sit back and relax for a few days, then hand Carolin the application packet she had already prepared. There was, of course, no court case, no bastardy, and no threat to Carolin’s admission. Valeria could count on Miss Van Korver to keep her silence about the whole ordeal, because to speak about it to anyone else would  expose her “family secret” to the world. 

Val would give it a few weeks after Carolin’s acceptance into the Bloomed Skull, let her settle in and think she’s in the clear. That should give Edda plenty of time to forge the “court case” that was supposedly smuggled out of the library. And whaddya know, maybe Valeria didn’t destroy it after all? And maybe she wanted more gold to maintain her silence? Sweet “Maxi” would certainly be good for it. 

Oh! She had to tell Edda about Carolin’s secret Van Markham love child! Valeria rushed around the side of the desk and had almost made it to the door when a tall, dark shadow appeared in the hallway just outside. She drew up short, surprised. 

“W-Well met, ser. May I assist you with something?” 

The man stepped into the office and thus into the lantern light. He was indeed tall, and slender, with a graceful, refined carriage. His graying hair was slicked back away from his face, and he wore a thin mustache that drew attention to the sensuous curve of his lips. “Valeria Amell, I presume?”

“You presume correctly, messere. I am Valeria Amell.” 

He smiled, which softened his hazel eyes. “Pleased to make your acquaintance. My name is Emmrich Volkarin.” 

Valeria finally noticed the pin attached to the lapel of his jacket. It was the mark of the Mortalitasi. She retreated behind her desk, trying not to give the impression of a frightened nug running for cover, even though that would have been an accurate comparison. 

“The pleasure is mine,” it wasn’t. “I’ll ask again, messere, is there something I can help you with?” 

Without any invitation or leave, he took a seat, and gestured for Valeria to do the same. “Please, sit, miss. There’s much to discuss.” 

“I’ll stand, thank you. Now, would you care to tell me what this is about?” 

To her surprise, he chuckled a little bit. Maybe she was just imagining things, but something about his gaze felt– chilling. Val had heard stories about Mortalitasi being able to mind control their unsuspecting victims, so she quickly glanced away. 

“You’re a Registrar for the Society of the Bloomed Skull, are you not?” 

She relaxed just the tiniest bit. If he believed she held an office in the Society, he didn’t know that much about her, after all. Valeria decided to hedge rather than correct. “I offer genealogical research services to my esteemed clients, and many of them do seek to join the Bloomed Skull.” 

“Ah, that’s right! How silly of me. The Society doesn’t allow non-members to hold rank within their organization, no matter how skilled they are. And your family isn’t originally from Nevarra, therefore you aren’t eligible to join. And you never will be.” 

Valeria grimaced, and sat down. That last bit stung, even though she didn’t like to admit it.She had clearly underestimated her opponent. 

He continued, “Word about the city is that you have a special talent. One that is particularly suited to this type of research. That you’re able to,” Volkarin considered his words carefully, “commune with the deceased?” 

Oh for fuck’s sake– which one of those stuck up twits had blabbed? Valeria shook her head. “I’m sorry, messere– ”Please, call me Emmrich, I insist.” 

“--very well, Emmrich. I believe you’ve been taken in by idle gossip. I can do no such thing. My grandmother’s mother claimed to have such abilities, but that didn’t go over well in Tantervale. They burned her at the stake for a heretic.” 

The older man stroked his mustache and regarded her in silence for a moment. Then, he leaned forward and whispered, “But what if I told you that you’re wrong? What if you could? Speak, with the dead? With spirits?”

Val’s eyebrows knit together. “I don’t understand. I’m no mage, I’m just a common–” she almost said criminal, “--researcher.” 

“You’re intelligent. Determined. Cunning.In a short amount of time, you’ve made the great houses of Nevarra City your loyal patrons, and in the process you’ve accumulated a wealth of knowledge about their lineages and connections. Maker’s breath, you’re meant for so much more than a life of petty thievery!” 

The researcher’s hand slipped to the small dagger she had concealed at her belt as her eyes narrowed. “I beg your pardon?” 

“We’ve been observing you, Valeria. From the inside.” He shrugged. “It didn’t seem strange, that you were able to secure an assistant within a week of hanging out your shingle? Such an able assistant too, who possessed skills like forgery to abet your little schemes?” 

Edda. A Mortalitasi operative.Valeria clenched her fists. “Why me?” she growled. 

“Because of precisely who you are. They burned your great grandmother because she could speak with the dead. We’ve been watching, and waiting, to see if the gift would resurface in one of her descendants. The Mortalitasi have been monitoring your family since their arrival in Nevarra forty years ago.”  

“And you think it’s me? You think I’m the one?” 

He quirked a manicured eyebrow. “I know you are.”  Emmrich stood and made a show of dusting off his coat. Val heard the soft tinkling of bangles on his arm. The Mortalitasi lapel pin flashed when it caught the lantern light. His shadow fell over Valeria’s seated form, and she shivered. That otherworldly chill, again. 

“We want you to join us, Valeria. The Mourn Watch can help you unlock your dormant abilities, harness your power, and become who you were always meant to be.” 

Valeria stayed seated. Her mouth was set in a hard line as she considered the offer. How long would she be able to keep running these schemes, realistically? And what would she do if someone finally caught on? Flee? The Mortalitasi were revered, or at the very least, feared, by everyone in Nevarra City.

She would finally be accepted. She could finally belong. 

She stood and nodded, “I accept your offer, Emmrich Volkarin. When do we begin?” 

The older man smiled. “Splendid. We begin now. My carriage awaits outside, ready to carry us to the Grand Necropolis.” 

As he turned to lead the way out, Valeria held back. “Oh, but what about Carolin? She needs to get her application packet for the Bloomed Skull.” 

Emmrich chuckled, “Don’t worry about Miss Van Korver. ‘Edda’ will see to it that her admission is taken care of.” 

“Ah, right. I see.” She followed the necromancer out onto the sidewalk, where his smart looking carriage was waiting.

Volkarin was reaching for the carriage door when it suddenly popped open, and a grinning skull with brilliant jewels for eyes leaned out, its skeletal fingers gripping either side of the doorway. It was such a shocking sight that Valeria couldn’t stifle a yelp. 

Emmrich tutted, “Maker’s breath, Manfred, you can’t just pop out at people like that!” 

The skeleton bowed its head in a posture that could only be described as sheepish, and shrunk back into the dim interior of the carriage. Emmrich regarded his newest recruit with an apologetic smirk. “My assistant, Manfred. Please don’t be alarmed by his appearance, I assure you he’s perfectly harmless.” 

Val returned the smile, but it lacked conviction. At the end of this strange carriage ride, everything about her life would change. She took a deep breath, let it out. Placing a hand on each side of the doorway, she climbed inside.