#selling his cheese

[patrothestupid]

How they're made remains a secret

[lesbianwyllravengard]

You guys know you can still save Ulder even if you break Wyll's pact right. You know you don't have to doom Wyll to save his dad right.

[bitchkay]

Craving onigiri in the middle of the night

I need osamu to be my boyfriend so he can make me onigiri when ever I want

[mothlau]

modern wolfstar but sirius is a scam tarot reader at small town fairs (he got the cards from a thrift store for a few pounds, watched one video on how to read them and he decided it's his best shot at making some money to survive). cue the fair where he's working ends up in a small town from wales where, lo and behold, he keeps pulling the moon and the death card for everyone. a small child that can't be older than 5? they get the death card. an old lady who wanted to know how her tomatoes will do this summer? death.

now, sirius does know that the death card means new beginnings and it's not as bad as it seems but everyone just starts calling him names and his clientele lessens by the day because everyone finds out about his cards and how he's the bringer of death (literally no one died since he got there so he finds the new nickname a bit overkill).

he's too worried about his scamming abilities though. he just can't shake the weird feeling he gets when he pulls moon out again, even after he takes the damn card out of his pack because he's sick of seeing it (he leaves the death card in because he does find it funny)

but then, on the night before the full moon, when he's just getting ready to pack his cards and cheap props and call it a day, a farmer comes to get a reading. he's still in his overalls because he came straight from the farm here to check out the card reader who the villagers keep saying is predicting deaths on the full moon to see what the fuss is about.

sirius is smitten as soon as the farmer opens his mouth, but imagine his surprise when he hears that he's been slowly making people fear him again, after he just convinced them that he's a kind guy. and imagine his bigger surprise when the cute farmer with hay stuck in his hair and mud on his overalls tells him he's a werewolf.

[kipowolfton]

pew pew

Pardon, for he requests you perish at his hand

[du-hjarta-skulblaka]

Yknow how I was talking about getting back into bg3? Yeah, in playing vanilla skyrim again,

[keeps-ache]

oops‎‎‎, i, ‎did it again - i overcheesed the spaghetteh,

[inkykeiji]

bf’s parents arrive home from italy & they bring us pounds n pounds of chocolate + cheese HEHEHE

look at how THICK this bar is!!!!!!! it’s so so so yummy i already had like four squares ehehehe (*/ω＼*) not pictured: me trying to snap that bar with my bare hands and bf’s mom going oh my god please help her before she hurts herself and rushing towards me with a massive knife to chop the chocolate for me

[freebooter4ever]

Are the lines on your drawings stylistic choices or are they measurement/guiding lines? Either way, they are cool, but just wondered. I dont understand drawing at all, might as well be a magic spell to me. I was looking at the pencil (?) sketch of Malkin with the cheesecutter hat on.

i, uh, definitely did not google 'cheesecutter hat' until after i saved out these images. :/ sorry about that. if you'd like the other one broken down, i can do that too lol. my reading comprehension when im tired is kinda lazy i just saw 'cheese' and imediately thought 'omelette'. SO here's the 1) initial sketch, 2) 'clean' sketch, and 3) final lines for the omelette boy drawing instead:

also i have had a cumulative of about 9 ish hrs of sleep total for the past two days so keep that in mind for if this explanation makes no sense, its not my fault. :( anyway! the way i draw definitely has changed over the years but currently im really trying to focus on the line i "see" rather than the one that is actually "there". i've been applying this to my writing for years (story vs happening truth) and you know it never occurred to me that i could do it in my drawings too till like...a few years ago. in general these lines seem to form the planes of the subject. if you google 'stanford bunny' you can find an easy example of a 3D surface turned into triangles. I do this too - see things in relative triangle proportions, except i've been doing it long before i knew how computers worked. i cant begin to tell you how long d*sney and cartooning's obsession with round building blocks of anatomical structure fucked with my brain until i finally decided i could cast that teaching aside completely.

ANYWAY sorry off subject again. so we have these sketchy under lines, and usually as im trying to find the proportions and form of the subject these lines end up being where the light/shadow hits. here i saved out the 1) 'flat colors', 2) the 'light', and 3) the 'shadow' parts on their own (i lightened the background for the 'shadow' so its easier to see):

the light is like four or five 'overlay' layers of pale yellow/orange. you can see how each of these layers follow one of those sketchy lines i did initially. and the same with the shadow but instead its a dark red color set to 'multiply' for each layer. and when you combine everything together you get:

some bullshit :). anyway you know that anniversary edition of beauty and the beast that featured the version previewed to nyc audiences in 1990 with the glen ke*ne sketchy keyframe animation of the beast's transformation? i watched that - must have been sometime after i graduated college - and i felt robbed that THAT version was never presented as a final piece. the 'unclean' drawings had so much more life and movement and intensity to them. tldr i like the messy lines, i hate 'inking' with a passion (HATE. IT.), and when i finally allowed myself to stop giving a fuck drawing became way more interesting. but my art is shit and i will never be glen k*ane so i dont really feel like the best advocate for this "style". alas. there was this one artist on tumblr who i fucking loved whose sketches were SPECTACULAR but the asshole racists in the m*c*ha*nz*o fandom bullied her off tumblr and ive never been able to find her art anywhere else since. she was also very negative about her 'unclean' sketches and it made me so sad. there was also this other artist whose sketches were awe inspiring but all she drew was p*rn and well...we all know what happened on tumblr in december 2018.

also i 100% stole the lighting scheme from The Bear which is currently one of the most gorgeous shows on television right now in my opinion

im really really sorry if this makes no sense, if im feeling motivated maybe i'll try again when my brain is fully functioning but with the actual 'cheesecutter hat' doodle ^_^

[kennys-parka-jacket]

Last post got me thinking. It's the most random thing to make headcanons on, but it got me thinking

[lovethisfatcryptid]

Wearing my other new sweater while playing Stardew 👩🏻‍🌾

[would-you-punt-them]

By the way, here's a quick update on what's been going down on the worst part of the internet this week:

Five days ago, Rosanna Pansino made a video where she opened up a package of Lunchly taken straight off the store shelf (2 months before its expiration date), and found that the cheese was absolutely festering with mould.

Not only is this absolutely disgusting, but, as Pansino points out in her video, they're selling this to kids. The young kids opening up and eating this might not know what mould looks like, and therefore won't recognise this for what it is.

A source associated with MrBeast told Newsweek to "consider the context and the source", essentially accusing Pansino of faking the video. She responded by posting the full unedited video of her opening the box.

And while officially representatives for MrBeast, KSI and Logan Paul declined to comment, two days ago Logan Paul dropped an episode of his podcast guest-starring KSI where they kinda-but-not-really responded to the video/tweets in passing, implying that Pansino was clout-chasing.

But over the past week more people have been posting their own videos of finding mould in Lunchly.

[foldingfittedsheets]

I’d like to entertain and enliven you now with the saga of my Slut Era.

I’ve always been a serial monogamist and my shortest long term relationships clocked in at three years. So perhaps that’s why when I finally broke it off with my ex I went insane on dating. Part of it was definitely just that between anxiety and loneliness I wanted to fill up my time.

This happened when I was living alone for the first time, no roommates, just me and my little cat Leeloo. I didn’t want to come home to an empty house so instead I set up dates.

Most of these were disastrous. I’m not everyone’s cup of tea and I had a lot more first dates than second because they’d seen enough, including the one where people aggressively complimented me.

But after a few months I had four people I was seeing simultaneously. I was up front with all of them that things were not exclusive, and they all agreed, so no infidelity took place here, just a lot of hijinks.

Here’s who was on the dating roster:

• An apprentice woodworker that we’ll call Jill. I honestly thought at 26 years old that her being 21 wasn’t a problem age gap and I quickly learned that there was a vast gulf of both maturity and life experience between us. Jill described herself as “heteroflexible” and had just dumped her first boyfriend to flirt it up with me.

• A married woman looking for a friends with benefits. We’ll call her Alice. I insisted on meeting her husband first to be sure I wasn’t part of a cheating mess and he gave me his blessing when I stayed over at her house. Years later when he and Alice had divorced I would go on to sell him and his new fiancée an engagement ring and we both realized at the end how we knew each other and it was wildly awkward. Alice was nice, but a hardcore vegan who insisted I brush my teeth if I so much as ate string cheese before I could kiss her. She was also unhappy in her marriage and was feeling out if I’d want to get serious.

• A bartender dubbed Snakebites, so called because of her signature piercings. She cooked me a steak so raw it was still mooing and some of the best asparagus I’d ever had. In our singular sexy encounter she bit my nipple and I never got over it. Really don't bite someone if you don't know their preference and work up in pressure. We weren’t terribly compatible but neither of us were willing to admit it yet. Truthfully I considered still dating her solely because I desperately wanted her bathroom. It had all black tile, black toilet, black sink, a rain shower in the corner and a jacuzzi tub. I may not have loved her but god I loved that bathroom.

And finally,

• My beloved, who I would go on to marry, who was dealing with a lot of personal stuff at the time. Obviously that meant I liked them the best of all the people I was seeing because we were both disasters at the time.

So that’s the cast of this little misadventure. Now, our story begins with Jill.

Jill was someone who heightened my anxiety. Each of the three times she came to my home she brought and left more stuff. A self help book, a ramen kit, the entire Teen Titans collection of DVDs. It was like she was trying to move in. She also liked to deride my taste in things, frequently calling me a pleb when I mentioned a band or show I liked.

She was working on a gorgeous little decorative table in her woodworking program. The main wood for the top had a beautiful dapple of knots like jaguar spots, and when she showed me a picture I exclaimed how pretty it was.

“Do you want it?”

“Oh- I mean it’s lovely, I wouldn’t mind having it, but you should sell it and make some money!”

But she was adamant. She’d give me the little side table. At about this time, Alice was starting to get awfully lovey for a FWB. I knew she wasn’t happy with her husband but I also knew we were not a good fit. Fun fact: Alice and her husband were step siblings with a pretty hefty age gap. They got together when he stumbled upon a kink photo shoot she’d done with vegetables. None of their family was happy about the relationship but they weren’t related by blood so it was fine.

So I was fending off more overt romantic advances from Alice, and feeling increasingly like I needed to break things off with Jill. Snakebites wasn’t ever initiating communication and I decided to pull a lot of plugs at once.

I ghosted Snakebites, told Alice that I thought we should cool it, and in a move worthy of a rom-com I asked my beloved if I could pretend we were exclusive to put off Jill. They agreed and I texted Jill to let her know that I was no longer single.

I was not prepared for Jill’s response. She. Was. Devastated. She flew off the handle. She’d just been waiting for the right time to tell me how she felt about me! How dare I do this to her!

What about the table?!

“You should keep the table, it’s gorgeous, you’ll be able to sell it, but I don’t expect a free table.”

Silence met me after that text. I worried and fretted and eventually headed home.

There on my doorstep. The table.

It was a small little end table, reeking of oil and polish, but very beautiful. I brought it inside. The little drawer didn’t even have a knob or guide rails. But it did have a handwritten bill proclaiming that it was costing me $500.

“I can’t afford a $500 table, Jill!” I texted.

“Well you kept saying how nice it was. I spent a lot of time on it.”

“I’m not saying it’s not worth $500” (it wasn’t, it was a tiny side table made by an apprentice) “but I can’t buy a $500 table.”

“Make me an offer.”

I stared at the little table. I did actually like it, but I worried about the repercussions of entering into this deal. Hesitantly I typed back, “$300.” I didn’t think it was worth that much but I didn’t want to insult her too badly.

This suited her for the night. But the next day she informed me she needed a new bed, and that she’d take her $300 in credit toward a new mattress. I spent the whole next day basically wrangling with her over what she wanted and eventually she spiked back up to demanding $500 for the damn table.

“Let me just give it back,” I begged. It was not the first, second, or even third time I’d asked to return the thing but this time she finally relented and gave me her address. Since she lived with her parents still I’d never been over.

I called up my beloved and said, “Hey, I need moral support, can you run an errand with me?”

They agreed which is how we loaded up a self help book, a ramen kit, the entire Teen Titans DVD collection, and the table from hell into my little car together. Jill had said to meet her at one o'clock. I intended to drop everything off at noon and be done with this madness.

But while my beloved and I were on the doorstep leaving everything I heard, “Jill? You’re home early,” through the door. Her mom opened it to peer at us in confusion.

“I was just bringing Jill’s stuff back!” I chirped in alarm.

With little tact and a lot of speed we left her with Jill’s collection of things and then I sped out of there like my tail was on fire. I handed my phone to my beloved as I zoomed away instructing them to block Jill’s number. I was free. The tabletross around my neck had been returned.

It was about a month after that when my beloved and I officially began dating exclusively. I had wrapped up all my messy dating threads and it was a relief to be in a relationship again. They went on a trip to Mexico shortly after we made it official.

So I knew they were out of town. But next morning I walked out to my car and beheld a lipstick kiss pressed to the drivers side window.

I was petrified. I had just dumped three girls at once and had an extremely messy back and forth with one of them. Did I have a stalker?!

Of the girls, Alice seemed like likeliest candidate, being of a stronger lipstick variety girl than Jill or Snakebites. We had ended things a bit stiffly, but still cordial. She just laughed when I asked if she knew anything about it. “Nope,” she said, “but good luck.”

I’d rather have walked over broken glass then text Jill, and I’d firmly ghosted Snakebites so I was scared to reopen communication to ask if she was stalking me. I had to drop it. But it haunted me, that lipstick kiss.

For months I was jumpy, wondering which of my spurned lovers had done it. And why. Was it a threat? A goodbye? I lay awake thinking about it, worrying about how everyone I’d dated knew where I lived, which car was mine.

Finally, nothing else happened and I moved on. The kiss would remain a mystery and I had to be content with that.

It was a year later when I finally started filling my mom in on my dating escapades that I finally got closure. She was hooting and laughing as I went over the table debacle. Then I paused and added, “And then this kiss showed up on my car.”

“Did you like it?”

“What? No! I’m pretty sure one of them was stalking me! Who else would leave a kiss on my car?”

My mom started bellowing with laughter. “I did!” She wheezed.

Apparently. My mother had been driving by my place. And decided that a cute little gesture would be to leave me a kiss. And then decided to never mention it to me even though she’s never done anything like that previously.

“It scared the crap out of me!” I yelled while she collapsed with helpless laughter. “I thought I had a stalker! How could I possibly have known that was you?!”

“How could I have known you’d just broken up with three girls at once?” She wheezed in rejoinder and like. Fair play.

So that’s how my mom convinced me I had a stalker and I got out of buying a $500 table.

[laurasimonsdaughter]

Picture this: Dragons using their caves to age cheese. Dragon Cheesemakers!!

The dragon coiled his enormous body, completely blocking the entrance of the tunnel that lead to the caves.

“No,” he snarled, smoke pluming from his nose.

The cheesemonger pinched the bridge of her own nose. “Look, I explained this to you at the start,” she tried once more. “I make cheese.”

“Yes,” the agreed, nodding his scaly head.

“Then I bring the cheese here.”

“Yes.”

“Then you store all the cheese in your cave, keeping it at the perfect temperature and humidity.”

“Yes.” He sounded particularly proud of this part.

“And then when the cheese has ripened,” she concluded. “I come to pick the cheese up again.”

A thunderous scowl clouded his maw. “No.”

“But that’s how it works!” she cried in exasperation. “I make the cheese, you store the cheese, I sell the cheese, I make more cheese!” She peered up at him. “You do realise I cannot bring you new cheese until I have sold this cheese.”

The dragon considered this for a moment. “Ah, but what if—” he began. “What if you go and make more cheese. And bring me the cheese. And I put it in my cave, with the rest of the hoard. And then I keep it there forever.”

“No,” she said flatly.

It was remarkable how much a dragon could look like it had just swallowed a lemon.

“You can’t keep cheese forever,” she insisted. “It will spoil and go bad!”

“You said it would get better and better!” the dragon roared indignantly. “And I take good care of them! With the air flow and the humidity and the temperature!”

“And that is great,” she said, trying to smile through her frustration. “But when a cheese is ripe, it’s ripe! Then you should not be kept anymore, it should be eaten.”

The dragon scraped it’s formidable claws against the stony ground and sulked.

“Look…” The cheese mongering business did not tend to require a lot of sweet-talking, but she was making an effort. “I’m sure the cheeses that aged in your cave are the best cheeses people have ever tasted. When they find out how delicious they are they will want us to make loads more. Maybe several caves’ worth!”

The reptilian eyes stared at her with disgruntled, reluctant interest. “Several caves?”

“If we’re lucky! And I could make so much cheese that I could bring you new cheese as soon as I pick up the aged cheese. Your cave would never even be empty!”

This seemed to strike a chord. The dragon lifted his head a little.

“And that would really be much better for the rest of your hoard,” she continued with fresh inspiration. “Because if you leave cheese too long, it might go bad and spoil the cheeses next to it too!”

A nervous ripple went through the beast’s scaly body, but he clearly was not convinced just yet. “But what sort of a hoard is it if I have to give it away,” he complained.

“Well! Cheese is not just any old hoard! It’s a developing creation! And you will have a hoard that is constantly developing too. Constantly changing, but, if we do this right, never shrinking.”

The dragon looked at her solemnly, wavering with uncertainty. Perhaps she shouldn’t hold it against the poor thing, it must be a difficult concept to wrap his head around.

“And I will tell you what,” she said encouragingly. “If business is good, I can start investing in some really good crumbly cheeses. You can keep those in your cave for five whole years!”

“That is quite a long time for humans, is it not?” he said, sounding a little more cheerful.

“Very long. Especially when it comes to cheese. Cheeses that have been aged that long are very expensive.”

In retrospect, she should perhaps have led with that. Gourmand or not, a dragon was still a dragon after all. A glittering, toothy grin appeared on her recalcitrant business partner’s shout and he moved just enough for her to move past him into the mountain.

“Tell me more about this expensive cheese that crumbles.”

She hid a smirk. “If you help me carry some of the current ones out, it would be my pleasure.”

[flowersforthemachines]

Some facts about Emmrich (and also the Necropolis, Nevarra and other related things) gathered from the banters

I went through all companion banters on DanaDuchy's channel after playing the game to write down all facts about companions/the world that I haven't seen brought up anywhere in the game as a writing reference (and for funsies).

Note: This list may not be exhaustive. I might have missed some something or didn't write it down because I considered it common knowledge. If you have anything to add, please DM me or send an ask! (do specify what banter the information is coming from, though)

Note 2: Posts from this series (mostly) don't include information from banters specific to quests or between companions and faction members. I plan to do another playthrough to capture more of those and will add any relevant info to the character posts.

Other characters' posts: Bellara, Davrin, Harding, Lucanis, Neve, Taash. I'm also planning a post about just the Lighthouse some time later

About Emmrich:

Family and early life:

“Volkarin” is a commoner’s name. Emmrich’s father was a butcher, and his mother was a cook 

When Emmrich was around 5 years old, his neighbours had a pig named Lucy. He was very fond of her, and she’d always let him hug her around his neck

Emmrich grew up poor (clocked by Neve based on the way he always saves his candle stubs, shows up first for meals and never leaves food on his plate) 

Emmrich grew up hearing that all dragons were so hostile they had to be slain and is surprised that Taash has found ways to deal with them peacefully 

General:

The gold Emmrich’ wears is called “grave-dowry” (or “grave gold”). It’s a Nevarran custom to wear precious objects one would like to take to their grave

Emmrich’s bracelet (not specified which one) was gifted to him on the day he became a full Watcher. The ring with a large stone was the last gift from his father. The skull pin doesn’t have a story, he just likes it

Emmrich isn’t fond of the Nevarran nobility

Emmrich’s shaving cream smells like potash (at least to Taash)

Emmrich uses moss perfume with flowers

Decades ago, Emmrich used to see an Orlesian woman who was an art appraiser

If Emmrich wasn’t a watcher, he would like to be a botanist

Emmrich displays some interest in Ferelden, mentioning that many of its heroes greatly shaped the history. Harding says that’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said about her homeland

Emmrich doesn't like beer because it's bitter

Emmrich prefers tea (he mentions purchasing a Brynnlaw curled-leaf blend in Nevarra), but he can also drink coffee 

Emmrich doesn’t eat meat (seafood and insects included), but he indulges in cheese. It seems to be a Watcher thing - he says that each Watcher must decide what they will and won't take a life for, and meat crosses that line for him

Emmrich likes melons, mushrooms and pineapples. He also enjoyed a plate of fried leeks and potatoes at Halos’s stand in Minrathous

Emmrich always thought he’d get married one day

After a Minrathous merchant sells Emmrich fake charms, he causes him to see skeletal faces on the windows and hear spirits whispering that false goods endanger lives as punishment. Emmrich agrees to stop once Neve tells him that she can convince the merchant to get back to selling linen if the visions cease

On magic and studies:

Some deaths may leave emotional imprints so intense Emmrich may feel them decades later 

Emmrich thinks the magic of old Elven artefacts is “rigid” 

Emmrich isn’t very good at figuring out Elven artefacts (by his own admission)

Emmrich’s first published work was A Monograph on the Vagaries of Determining a Body's Time of Death

Emmrich is roughly familiar with the dragon anatomy

Emmrich knows a lot about how bodies work (muscle-wise etc.) from the time he performed autopsies 

Watchers study the death practices of other cultures. Emmrich knew about Eb-ketarra and the Rivaini traditions even before Taash performs them at the end of their questline

On life in the Necropolis: 

When Emmrich fell for another boy during his youth, he showed him a corpse he was allowed to practice dissection on. The date was ruined by a passing wisp possessing the body and causing it to sit up and ruin the mood 

Emmrich tutored Dorian during his term in the Necropolis (“Tremendous potential, but appallingly flippant towards the dead”)

Emmrich and other watchers live in the Necropolis (Emmrich has a flat there)

On life at the Lighthouse:

It took 8 skeletons half a day to bring that slab of marble into Emmrich’s room

He didn’t bring his entire collection of books to the Lighthouse (there are more)

Emmrich talks to skulls in his room 

Lighthouse kitchen reminds Emmrich of the mortuary

Relationships with companions:

Emmrich offers to introduce Bellara to Audric, the Necropolis librarian (who appeared in Tevinter Nights’ Down Among the Dead Men)

Emmrich calls the Archive spirit a work of art  

Emmrich and Davrin disagree on parenting methods. Emmrich thinks Davrin should better discipline Assan and teach him boundaries, while Davrin suggest Emmrich should let Manfred learn more on his own (e.g. let him fall so he learns how to get up) 

Emmrich turns to Neve when he needs help acquiring some reagents he can't get his hands through normal ones, and she agrees to help him out (smuggling is involved)

Emmrich isn’t too thrilled about Neve taking over the Threads, questioning of what’s going to become with the organisation and the future and thinking it may become corrupt (sort of mirroring the way Neve is apprehensive about his lichdom) 

Taash likes Emmrich’s lich helmet. They are not usually fond of skulls, but that helmet is fine because it’s on fire

Taash thinks that gemstones like amethyst or green opal would look good with the lich helmet

Emmrich doesn’t seem to like unrealistic books as he criticised Harding’s “Gore-Knight” novels for their incorrect interpretation of magic. He is worried about people misunderstanding magic and spirits

Emmrich calls himself Harding's 'de facto physician'

On Manfred: 

(If Rook chooses to save Treviso) Manfred brings Neve tea by his own volition. Emmrich thinks it's because Manfred sensed she might need a friend

Manfred is as aware of his surroundings as most people (to a certain degree)

(If revived at the Necropolis) Manfred learns to say Emmrich’s name 

(If revived at the Necropolis) Manfred becomes much more talkative 

Manfred likes boiling tea because he is fascinated by steam

Emmrich suggests Manfred tries tending to plants in Harding's garden 

Manfred is curious about Spite and wanders into Lucanis’s room at night

Spite and Assan miss Manfred if he’s gone

On Lichdom:

Emmrich smells fine to Taash even after he becomes a lich 

Emmrich’s lich helmet burns with veilfire. He once tried using it in combat, but the flame ended up blinding him

Emmrich thinks Strife would no longer be interested in a relationship after he becomes a Lich. That doesn't prove to be true

Lich!Emmrich doesn't need to eat but still comes by the kitchen for company

The energy of Emmrich’s magic changed after he became a lich

Other liches call lich!Emmrich “Young Volkarin” 

Lich!Emmrich no longer has muscles, but when he tries out Taash’s pull-up routine, he can still feel something like “a spectral memory of flesh”, as if he had pulled a tendon

Emmrich starts seeing more books in the Lighthouse library after becoming a linch

About spirit, demons, and the Necropolis: 

There are spirits of Temperance and Diligence 

The Watchers avoid using the word “demon” because it creates bad expectations and can negatively influence spirits 

Some in the Mourn Watch suspected that elves originated from spirits, though it was just one of many theories, and not a particularly popular one

Chambers in the Necropolis can go missing (according to MW!Rook, they turn up, eventually)  

Even after the despair demon is banished from the Necropolis, the halls remain cold. However, the effects will abate with time

There are horses on display in the Necropolis

Watchers rarely get possessed thanks to the special wards of the Necropolis. Possessions also don’t happen as often because the necromancers already provide spirits with bodies, so they don't need to possess anyone by force

Bellara calls the background magic of Necropolis tidy and quiet

There something called “The Deep Necropolis” featuring sections like “The Unspoken Valley” and “The Charnel Bridge” (which has something called “nightmare fog”) that hosts all kinds of entities. Bellara is very excited to visit once the nightmare fog clears

Vorgoth ensures that the transgressions of those who use magical to cruel and abusive means will not be tolerated (whatever that means)

About Nevarra:

Many great Nevarran artefacts have been lost to time, including the Skull of Sabinar, the Key of Dead Dreamers, and the Crown of the Moon

There are strict rules about selling enchantments in Nevarra. You can’t sell anything without a licence and an inspection from the mage Circles

A Tevinter poem “Faustina's Song”, a romantic epic from the Steel Age, is very popular in Nevarra, and its quotes are used on ‘more than one’ epitaph in the Necropolis. Neve is surprised people even read it outside Tevinter 

Pineapples don’t grow in Nevarra

[bi-writes]

Do you think MOB's ex would ever come looking for her one day?

mail-order bride

simon opens the door for you, taking your hand as you get out of his truck. you brush off the front of your jeans, smiling as you step around him and onto the sidewalk.

"said an hour or so?" simon mutters, shutting the door behind you. you nod, looking around at the shops.

"yeah, i just need some things, but i also wanna look around. maybe get some books or something...i don't know."

simon shrugs, flipping his hood up over his head. he bends to give you a kiss over the mask, and you thumb at his jaw gently.

"i'll pick ya up 'ere in an hour then," simon murmurs. "call me if ya need somethin', love. and if yer not back 'ere in an hour and ya haven't texted me, i'll come lookin' for ya."

you giggle, "i know, simon. i'll see you."

he smiles under the mask, you can tell by the way it moves and the way his eyes crinkle a little. you lean up and give him another kiss over the mask before making your way down the main road, stepping into a boutique to look for some new clothes. you wave at simon as he passes by, and he salutes you before driving off.

you love spending time in town. you love visiting the shops, getting pastries, having some tea by the bookstore and buying little trinkets from the antique shop. simon likes the cheese shop. they sell some of his favorite french cheese, and they have wonderful wines that they pair with it that you love drinking together for dinner. you pick up a bottle along with some cheeses and bread, and just as you leave the shop, you bump right into a solid back, dropping one of your bags and nearly tripping into the road.

"oh, fucking hell!"

you gasp, clutching the rest of your bags to yourself. the man turns around, glaring at you, and you feel sick.

what the fuck is he doing here?

"oh well...isn't this a wonderful surprise?" he snorts. you pick up your fallen bag and straighten up, stepping back to create distance between you.

"hi..." you clear your throat. "i...i'm meeting someone, i have to go--"

"oh, where are you going?"

he blocks you from stepping around him. you meet his eyes, taking a deep breath. he always liked being able to control every aspect of you, from where you stood to what you did that day. your skittishness...your apprehensiveness...it's ingrained in you from your time with him. it's hard to explain being afraid of someone who never even really touched you, but you left before you thought it could get that far.

"that's really none of your business," you say softly. "excuse me."

he sidesteps again when you do, and this time you frown.

"you..." you glare at him. "...need to get out of my way."

he grins, a humorless laugh coming out of him. you don't like the way he's standing there, and you don't like how calm he is.

"oh, i didn't realize little kitty had grown some claws."

maybe you have. you've started to shed your scared exterior, mostly because there is someone behind you now, someone bound to you, supportive enough to make you more confident, braver, stronger. you stand a little taller, clenching your jaw, and you close the distance, stepping closer, and you cant your chin up so you can look at him hard.

"i don't know what you're doing here," you say lowly, "but you need to get the fuck out of my way, or you're going to have some other problems that you certainly can't handle."

he raises a hand, about to touch the lapel of your jacket. you grip his wrist, holding him there, and you tilt your head to the side.

"and if you touch me, you'll be sorry for it. now step aside, asshole, or i will make it a very hard day for you."

"c'mon," he chuckles. "let's go get a drink. there's a pub just down that way--"

"what part of no, and get out of my way, makes you think i wanna have a drink with you?" you scoff. "are you serious? are you that stupid that you think--"

"you listen here," he snaps, pointing his finger, getting in your face. "it's not my fault that you're--"

you step backwards when a big hand comes around you, snatching his wrist and yanking his finger out of your face. you look to your side to see simon standing there, shuffling in front of you, putting himself between you.

"now, i don't much care for interrupting, but you've got y'r fuckin' finger in my wife's face, and i'd like to know why."

you take a glance at your watch, and you realize it's past the time simon said he would pick you up. you sigh, reaching up and sliding your hand up simon's arm, and he lets go.

"it's fine," you tell him. "he was just on his way out."

he's shaking. stumbling backwards, clutching his wrist, glancing between you two. simon holds his hand out finally, beckoning him.

"your wallet."

"w-what?"

"give me y'r bloody wallet," simon snaps.

"simon--" you try, but he clicks his tongue as he snatches the wallet from him, shuffling an ID card out before reading his name out loud, and his address. simon chuckles darkly, cracking his neck before tossing the wallet at his chest.

"i know y'r name," simon murmurs. "and i know where ya put y'r head at night. where ya piss. where ya change y'r clothes. if i ever see ya talk to my wife again...if i even see ya walk down the same fuckin' road as 'er, i'll come and visit you. and we'll 'ave a chat."

"r-right, i--" he stuffs his wallet into his pocket before leaving, hurrying down the road. he doesn't even look back, doesn't look behind him. when simon turns around, you can tell just by looking into his eyes that he's angry.

he reaches over and takes the shopping bags from you, holding them in his sweaty fists as he nods his head towards his truck down the road.

"let's go," he snaps, and you hurry to follow him, reaching for his bicep. you hold onto it gently, stopping him, tugging him towards you as you block him by stepping in front of him.

"simon," you look up at him. "hey--"

"who was tha'?" he asks.

"a terrible nobody," you say softly. "one that i would rather forget."

"i--"

"thank you," you interrupt him gently. "for standing up for me. thank you...thank you for always believing me. for supporting me. for always showing up when it matters, thank you..."

simon bends, leaning his forehead against yours, and he breathes in shakily.

"your pain is mine," simon mutters. "your...discomfort is my discomfort, your joy is my joy."

you both close your eyes, smiling, and he hums when he feels another kiss, soft, the lightest press against his mouth that he feels ten times stronger than normal.

"i love you, simon," you whisper. you hear the bags drop onto the floor, and then two big hands cup your face, leaning it back, and he stares down at you almost painfully. it feels like you aren't real. he feels like it must be a dream, like this can't be his reality.

"i love you more, baby."

but when simon opens his eyes, you're still there.