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sandcobangevent · 2 months ago

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Unforgettable

by @keirgreeneyes and @tiredmilkshake

Chapter 1

“Seriously, I can’t believe my luck. We go off, have these adventures, meet celebrities and then get to share it all with people through the podcast—and he makes the most amazing dinners after we’re all done!”

“This is Sherlock Holmes you’re talking about? The same Sherlock I introduced you to?”

“Yes, Mike. The very same. I mean, he doesn’t cook immediately. Usually he collapses for–oh, once it seemed like 24 hours, though he might have gotten up while I was sleeping at some point.”

“And you’re saying he cooks? That’s the bit that’s surprising to me. I mean, I thought he had a thing about pasta.”

“I mean, we do have pasta every so often. But like, he made this fantastic sauce with capers the other day.”

“That’s...surprising, yeah. Well, I guess maybe he’s changed a mite.”

“What’s that mean?”

“He didn’t used to, in uni, that’s all.”

“Well, everyone changes, don’t they?”

“I’m not sure Sherlock Holmes does.”

“Is that a crack about his autism?”

“No, no, I’m not criticizing him. Just, he’s unique and always has been.”

“Yeah, unique and pretty amazing, I’d say.”

“Agreed. You two are good for each other.”

“Some people might even say we have a rapport.”

“He really does seem happier now, actually. So, yeah, he does seem different.”

“Right. Well, Mariana just texted me that there’s a mess of chicken parmesan a certain unique detective and chef made that is waiting for me back at Baker Street, so I think I’ll say cheers and catch you later.”

“Have a good night, Watson, and tell Holmes hello for me.”

“Will do.”

Chapter 2

“Watson, what’s that smell?”

“Why are you asking me, mate? You’re the one with the sensitive honker. Shall I go back to the flat for Archie? I wonder if he’d be an excellent sniffer dog, you know, like those dogs that work for a living? I mean, he’s no German Shepherd, wouldn’t really be much good at roughing up the bad un’s. But he does like to give things a sniff or two. And a slobber. Yeah, well, I guess he might be good at a crime scene if we needed somebody all glommed up with snot and saliva.”

“Watson—that’s utter nonsense. Crime scene dogs require keen senses and are given intensive training. Archie’s much better at what he’s good at: giving someone’s leg a good time at the park.”

“Hey—he did that one time, and no one ever lets up—”

“As I was saying, something smells different, about your person. What is it?”

“Oh, well, we were talking about making that mushroom and camembert frittata, and I happened to see a nice thing of camembert at a shop and so I thought I’d just pick it up and..”

“Well, its scent is so strong I think that even Archie would be distracted by it if he was here, much less a genuine detection dog.”

“What am I supposed to do with it, then?”

“I don’t know, but please take it out of here. Perhaps Inspector Lestrade can put it in her car.”

“Oh, no, Holmes, you’re not stinking up my squad car with that smelly old cheese.”

“Right, well, if no one wants me and my smelly old, delicious cheese around, I’ll just take us outside and let you do your detecting on your own.”

“What’s that, Watson? Wait, wait, there’s something here we’ve been missing…”

“So, do you want me to go, or should I linger here with my great smelliness messing up your investigation?”

“Wait–Stop!! Fire, fire!!”

(Screams break out, there is the sound of gunfire and breaking glass.)

Chapter 3

“Sherlock, it’s alright, mate, we caught him.”

“Yes, well, after he’d wounded two police constables, destroyed significant amounts of evidence with that fire, and all this from a hidden place within the very crime scene that we had been investigating. And we caught him all thanks to you, by the way. Timely use of that disgustingly reeking round of cheese you had on hand to distract him while I tackled him. Good job, Watson.”

“Well, cheers, mate. Wasn’t exactly what I was planning, but I’ll take the praise. I still can’t figure why he did come out. He had a doozy of a hiding place all set up, what with that false wall and cozy little room he’d set up for himself.”

“That’s just it, Watson. When we entered the galleria, my immediate impression was that there was something wrong about it. The dimensions. But I didn’t follow through on my deductions. And look how much devastation has occurred.”

“Sherlock, mate, go easy on yourself. You couldn’t know he’d go all batty hearing us talk about sniffer dogs. I mean, turns out he’s phobic about pooches? You can’t predict this kind of thing. We all have our things, and there’s no reason why anyone, even you, should be able to pull a guess about something like that out of the air.”

“No, Watson, that’s just not true. And I never ‘just pull something out of the air.’ The signs were there. The thefts had commenced after the renovation project was completed. And even the canine connection should have been apparent to me—the owner of the art gallery has a pair of identical toy poodles, and the disappearances of these priceless minature pieces never happened on days when the dogs had been on site.”

“Toy poodles, miniature sculptures, she does really have something about tiny things, doesn’t she?”

“It was part of her aesthetic, Watson. Along with her charitable philosophy, all the proceeds went to provide building funds for tiny houses for people without permanent dwellings. Now her gallery is in a shambles, the work of established and budding artists in this field who had been featured there, destroyed. And all because I lost sight of what I’d immediately grasped when I entered the space. But I was distracted and forgot to follow up on it, John. It’s just unbelievable. I forgot. ”

“Hey, hey, it happens to all of us, Sherlock. You may be amazing and brilliant, and often what seems like miraculous, but you’re also quite human. But whoa. I might need a moment here, I think that’s the first time you’ve ever said my given name. Wait. Sherlock? Where are you going?”

Chapter 4

“Thanks for going through this mail, John. I’ve taken care of the bills, but there’s so much of this kind of thing” (sound of papers thwacking down on a counter) “and I can’t tell if it’s just junk or if there are some legitimate inquiries in there.”

“No problem, Mariana. They’re so sneaky with their envelopes these days, those spammers. And there’s no podcast to edit right now, so I’ve nothing better to do.”

“Any change in Sherlock?”

“No.” (Heavy sigh.) “It’s been the same since that case. He’s shut himself up in his room and won’t talk. At first he was at least playing his violin, screeching away at it all night. But now that he’s stopped that, I’m even missing that. At least I knew he was alive in there.”

“I’m sure he��ll snap out of it, eventually. I mean, hasn’t he before?”

…

“John?”

“I wouldn’t know actually.”

“You’ve never seen him go through this?”

“Well, you met him at just about the same time that I did, so your guess is as good as mine.”

“Oh, that’s right! You two are so close, I forget that sometimes. You seem to have always been together.”

“I can tell you, it did not feel like that right away. First couple of nights in the flat with him, I was afraid I’d become a murderer myself.”

“Then he could have come back and cracked the case!” (laughter) “He would have liked that.”

“Yes, I expect he would, at that. If anyone could come back from the dead and solve his own murder, it would definitely be Sherlock Holmes.”

“Well, what can we do to help him cheer up? Maybe we’ll find a nice juicy mystery in here and that will get him feeling better.”

“Maybe. But I already sent him a few leads from the email account, and he just told me to delete them all.”

“That sounds pretty bad.”

“I know. I’m pulling my hair out. I wish I knew what would make him feel better.”

“What about what he does to show his appreciation for us?”

“You mean cook him something? I couldn’t, he’s like a world class chef.”

“No, he’s really not.”

“What do you mean?”

“He’s been teaching himself to cook.”

“There’s no way—wait, why do you say so?”

“Who pays the bills around here? I’d noticed that there were certain charges happening frequently, paid to a Youtuber who runs private courses on cooking.”

“On the company card?”

“Yes, but neither of you had said anything about it, or sent me receipts.”

“And we both know how important those receipts are!”

“Yes, I think I made myself very clear on that after you two took that client out to rollerskate sushi and came back with absolutely nothing by way of documentation.”

“Yeah, I think I’m still paying off that outrageously expensive saki we drank out of little warmers on the harness they gave me. But it was so very good.”

“Huh. Perhaps it’s a good thing that you lost those particular receipts. Anyway, I asked Sherlock if he knew anything about it. He refused to tell me anything, just issued me a repayment and said I shouldn’t worry, there wouldn’t be any more charges. It was all sorted out, so I never ended up mentioning it to you. But did he tell you anything about it, John?”

“He never breathed a word about this to me.”

“I was worried it was some kind of scam he’d been caught in, that he was embarrassed to admit about.”

“Yeah, I can imagine that he would be pretty quiet about something like that. Should we be worried that he’s got some kind of gambling issue?”

“No. Not at all.”

“So you did figure out what it was?”

“I did.”

“Did a little detecting of your own?”

“Indeed.”

“How did you get it out of him?”

“I had noticed that the charges were paid at about the same time each week.”

“So you spied on him!?”

“No, no, I wouldn’t want to invade his privacy.”

“He bloody well does mine all the time. Do you know, he sat in the loo for fifteen whole minutes while I was in there, quiet as a mouse in the shower stall, while I’m shaving, clipping my toenails, taking a wee, moisturizing, have a nice little chat with myself…”

“Wait, moisturizing? John, I had no idea you had a beauty routine.”

“It’s not a beauty routine. It’s just good for my pores. It’s self-care.”

“That’s very wise of you, John.”

“Oh sod off.”

“What did Sherlock do?”

“Well, he startled me half to death he did. I was just giving myself a little pep talk in the mirror, reminding myself that everyone starts somewhere. Einstein didn’t pop off about E=MC<sup>2</sup> first thing. He had to do a bit of maths, a bit of calculus, a bit of physics first. And I was sure to get better at this whole podcast thing as time went on.”

“So, how did he startle you?”

“Oh, right. He hears me saying that and comes out with ‘You’re quite right, Watson. Even Einstein was a beginner once.” Of course, then he tells me how Einstein taught himself maths and physics, earned a PhD at the age of 26 while publishing four ground breaking papers in those fields. ‘But Watson,’ he says ‘he’d failed an entrance exam once and had to struggle on, so don’t give up.’”

“He’s just trying to help.”

“Right, I know. And the funny thing is, it did help.”

“Even if he scared you to death?”

“Yeah, I think he was just there because he wanted the company. After I calmed down, I didn’t mind, actually.”

“See, you are close.”

“Well, if we were, wouldn’t I know how to cheer him up?”

“You’ve got to start somewhere.”

“Yeah, if only I knew what made him happy.”

“Oh! That was the whole point of my story. Sherlock was teaching himself to cook. For us.”

“Wait, so the Youtuber—”

“Correct, they were private classes on cooking.”

“Oh, wow. Now I really want to help him out of this.”

“Right.”

“Okay. Well, I have heard something recently that may help.”

“What?”

“An old acquaintance of his said he had a thing for pasta.”

“Like, the penne he keeps asking for?”

“He’s been asking for penne?.”

“Yup. He texts me when he knows I’m going to shop or put an order in. Penne and tomato sauce. That’s all he’s asked for…”

“Since that case. Okay, well. If he can learn to cook for us, I can learn to cook for him.”

“Do you think you need to take a class to cook pasta?”

“To make the best pasta ever tasted? Yes, absolutely.”

(Laughter) “You think you’re going to be able to make the best pasta ever?”

“Yes, because he deserves it.”

“Well, perhaps we can count this as a work expense, since it is meant to help him be able to get back to working again. Just–”

“I know, send you the receipts.”

“Bingo!”

Chapter 5

“Watson?”

“Yes, Sherlock.”

“What is that?”

“That, mate, is a plate of my very special beef crumble and mushroom lasagna. I used wine to sauté those mushrooms, just like you did with that risotto you made two weeks ago–”

“And you want me to eat this?”

“Well, I didn’t put it on your plate because I want you to throw it at me. What do you think?”

“Are you being serious, Watson?”

“Yeah. Should I not be?”

“Well, I regret to inform you that I am unable to comply.”

“You’re not hungry then?”

“No, no, I am quite famished.”

“Then, what is it? I thought you liked pasta?”

“You thought I liked pasta?”

“Yeah. I also rather thought you didn’t like repeating yourself?”

“I was repeating what you said, Watson. I never said I liked pasta.”

“Well, all you’ve been eating is that penne stuff lately, and I heard you did like it, so–”

“Who exactly did you hear that from?”

“Stamford. Said something about you liking it back at uni.”

“You’ve been digging into my history at university?”

“Whoa—wait a mo’ there, that sounds way more sneaky and spy-y than what happened. We were talking about you—”

“Oh, you were talking about me, and my eating habits when I was a student? I hope you feel enlightened now.”

(Sounds of a chair pulling back, then cabinets being opened, water running, and a pot being settled on the hob.)

“Sherlock… I’ve done something to upset you, haven’t I?”

“Please, Watson, I am quite hungry, as I said. Thank you for your gesture, but I’ll be quite fine with my penne." (Sounds of a fridge door opening.) Wait, where’s the jar of tomato sauce I had in the fridge?”

“Ummm, well, I sort of used it in the lasagna.”

“Did you use it or not? It appears to have vanished.”

“Yeh, it’s gone.”

(Sounds of a chair being pulled out and Sherlock sinking back into it.)

“How about butter? I always love a bit of salt and butter on my pasta when I’m not feeling quite the thing.”

“I suppose that will be acceptable.”

“No, wait.” (Sounds of footsteps and a coat being grabbled.) “I’ll just pop down to Tesco and get a couple more jars of the sauce.”

“Really, Watson, there’s no reason–”

“There really is. I wanted to make something special for you and all I did was end up ruining your dinner. It’s easy as pie to make it right. Just let me, okay?”

“Well… I will enjoy the dish much more if there is sauce. Just the plain, however.”

“No mushrooms? Peppers? Spicy red pepper with paprika?”

“Watson, I was feeling grateful but now you’re becoming tedious.”

“Gotcha. Plain tomato sauce coming up.”

(Sounds of feet running down stairs, followed by a door opening and being slammed shut in the distance.)

(Sounds of fingers drumming on a table. A chair is pulled back, a lid removed from a pot and replaced. A long suffering sigh.)

(Sounds of a voice humming. Water starts to bubble.)

“At last!”

(Sounds of jumping up from a chair. Pasta shakes in a box, and cardboard is torn open. The sounds of pasta being poured into a pot of water, just as a door is thrown open in the distance, slamming into a wall.)

“What is going on?!” (Mariana’s voice sounds distantly, coming up from the front hall of 221 Baker Street.)

“Oh, sorry Mariana. Can’t talk.” (John’s voice is closer, as though he’s made it up a few stairs.)

“Is there a case?”

“No, no, something much more important. Dinner!”

(Sound of Mariana sighing.) “Dinner? You had me worried, John.”

“Can’t chat, water boiling. ‘Ta.”

(The sounds of feet clattering up the stairs sound, and then rapid breaths, a bit wheezy.)

“Got ‘em! Here you are, mate. (A gasping breath ) Fresh from the Tesc. I believe these are from 2024. A very good vintage, if I do say so myself.”

“Watson, you are being ridiculous. There is no particular advantage to having tomatoes packaged in this year over any other. The processing of the sauce makes it highly homogenized. One batch will taste much like any other.”

“Yes, but if it came from last year, or the year before, it might well be off, so you’d likely not want to eat it, yes?”

“Perhaps. But all this talking isn’t going to get me fed anytime soon.”

“Oh, sorry, ‘course. Here we go, let me just—” (Sound of a pan clattering.)

“Please—let me. If you don’t mind. I just want to heat my sauce and eat in peace.”

“Sure thing. Yeah. Well. Maybe I’ll just see if Mariana wants to eat some of this lasagna.”

“Excellent idea.”

“Well, alright then. I guess I’ll just go.”

“Mm-hm.”

(Sounds of Sherlock humming as John’s footsteps recede.)

Chapter 6

“John! This is sooo delicious. Is that white wine I’m tasting?”

“Yeah. Yup. ‘Tis. The mushrooms.”

“Mmmm…. Thank you. This is really quite good. I wouldn’t have expected—”

“No, guess you wouldn’t. I really put my back into it.”

“That class really paid off.”

“Hmph. Yeah.”

“Well, you don’t seem very happy with it. Aren’t you going to eat some?”

“I dunno. My heart’s not really in it anymore.”

“Because Sherlock rejected it?”

“He didn’t— It’s not that Sherlock rejected me—”

“Whoa–whoa–whoa. I didn’t say he rejected you.”

“The thing. The pasta. He didn’t..,well, I suppose he did reject the lasagna. But I thought he liked it!”

“What exactly was it that Stamford said?”

“Something like he had a thing for pasta at uni.”

“That’s pretty vague really. There are a lot of types of pasta. Why did you think he would like this dish?”

“It’s all fancy. Like he’s been making for us. I figured he was down about the case, and not up to cooking something big. So, I thought I’d do it for him.”

“And, at any time, did you actually ask Sherlock what he wanted?”

“...”

“I take that is a ‘no’?”

“Erm—” (Whistles.) “Correct. I did not ask him what he wanted.”

“He’s been pretty clear. He wants tomato pasta. Penne.”

“But this is clearly so much better.”

“To who, John? To you?”

“...”

“Go talk to him.”

“He just threw me out of the kitchen. I doubt he wants to talk to me right now.”

“Was he angry about it?”

“A little bit.”

“Then all the more reason to talk. Maybe you need to apologize, maybe not. Find out.”

(A big sigh.)

Chapter 8

Summary:

John and Sherlock talk, and peace prevails.

Chapter Text

“Hello Watson! I’m feeling much better. Did you and Mariana enjoy the lasagna?”

“Yeah. I’m glad to hear that. We did. And I’m sorry—”

“What for?”

“For...assuming you’d want the lasagna.”

“That was odd.”

“Are you still upset that Stamford and I talked about you?”

“No, not really. I am a bit surprised.”

“It was nothing bad. Honestly, I wasn’t trying to get some kind of intel about you.”

“Well if you had been, Stamford wouldn’t be a terribly useful informant. You might try Victor next time. Or my brother. He’s well informed about most things and could detail quite a bit of my likes and dislikes from those years. Although, I’m not sure how useful any of that information would be to you, truly.”

“No, Sherlock. I’ll not be asking Victor, or your brother. If I want to know what you were like at uni I’ll ask you.”

“Hm. Well, I might prefer it if you do ask one of them. Not the best memories of that time.”

“Oh. Was it…hard for you?”

“Well, I didn’t graduate, and I had only one friend, and I never talk about it unless forced to do so. So that might tell you something.”

“Jeez. Oof. Sorry, mate. I didn’t realize how bad it was.”

“It was rather stressful.”

“Oh! Is that why the pasta?”

“Watson, that question makes no sense. There is not really a why relating to pasta. There might be a when, or a how. But why doesn’t make much sense for such a generic food stuff.”

“No, I don’t mean all pasta. I mean your pasta. I take it you ate penne a lot in uni. And you’re doing it now again?”

“Mm. Well, I did go through a phase where the tubetti lisci was my preference, but I’ve come to feel penne is superior once again.”

“Is this something that makes you feel better when you’re out of sorts?”

“Ye–Perhaps. It doesn’t exactly cheer me up. It’s more that it’s dependable.”

“Because it’s always the same?”

“Because it’s straightforward. There’s no surprises in it. I know I like the taste, and the texture, and I know that each bite I’ll have will be 100% what I want.”

“No squishy mushrooms. No odd little nuggets of something.”

(An unhappy grunt.) “Do we really need to talk about those things. I just had a very satisfying dinner.”

“Oh, I’ll stop. ‘Course. But, so when you made those dishes for Mariana and me, was that just because you thought we’d like them?”

“No. Well, I did make them because you had indicated you liked those particular meals, but I chose the ones to make you’d both talked about that were also appealing to me. It’s a lot of effort to cook something like that, I’d like to enjoy it as well.”

“I’m quite glad about that. I would have been sad if you’d been making it just because we wanted it but you hated the thing. I misunderstood, and thought that was the way you liked to eat, but were, maybe too depressed to have energy to cook it.”

“I haven’t had energy to do that kind of cooking. I’m not depressed about the case.”

“You’re not? You’ve been moping about, and turning down cases. Looks like depression to me.”

“I’m considering.”

“Considering, if you want to continue?”

“More considering how I can avoid that kind of issue again.”

“Mate, ya’ can’t.”

“Well, that’s very reassuring.”

(A half-bitten off laugh.) “I’m sorry. I’m not saying you’re a failure. I’m saying you’re human.”

“But I’ve never had that kind of error creep in before.”

“Never?”

“Well, perhaps not never…”

“You will be tired. You will be hungry. You will be sick. You will miss something.”

“Unlikely.”

(Chuckling.) “Once or twice. Here or there. You’ve said I’ve helped you out now and then, what’s that if not maybe not having it all 100% in your noggin.”

“But I have your help now. And Mariana’s.”

“And we’re extremely human as well.”

“Oh, I know. Watson, you do realize that you snore, don’t you? You might wish to take your naps up in your bedroom.”

“Thanks for that. I never got complaints in the barracks.”

“That is because everyone snores or something, and in that situation there is no real remedy, so what do you expect?”

“We’re getting off track here. This is not about my sleeping patterns.”

“But you will nap in your room?”

“Sure, fine. Whatever. But are you feeling depressed?”

“Perhaps.”

“Well, I’d like to help. Somehow.”

(Sherlock takes a deep breath and releases it with a sigh.)

“You are, Watson.”

“By making you lasagna that disgusts you so much I can’t even talk about it and making you think that I’m spying on you by chatting to your old friends?”

“Nooot really either of those things. But you are here. And you tried to do something nice. That is greatly appreciated.”

“Glad to. On both counts.”

“And you are dependable.”

(A chuckle.) “Like your next bite of manky pasta?”

“It’s not manky. You’re not gross.”

“I’m simple then? Like a tubal li-whatever you called it?”

“Tubetti lisci. No. You’re much more like a penne. Smooth, durable, but with a bit of a nice point at each end. A little bit of texture, a little bit of bite. And you take the sauce so well.”

“I have no idea what any of this all means. Is that good?”

“Excellent, Watson. You may not have the complexity of something like your lasagna there, but I always know what I am getting, and I always know that I will like the next bite.”

“Aw, thanks.”

“And I am very glad you made the lasagna.”

“Even though it made you want to sick up?”

“It didn’t.”

“Admit it, it did a bit.”

“A bit.”

“But you’re still glad?”

“Well, you and Mariana enjoyed it, didn’t you?”

“Yes. We really did. Well, she did. I wasn’t really feeling it. My appetite was a bit off after making you so cranky.”

“Are you feeling better now?”

“I am. And I am feeling a bit more hungry.”

“Then why don’t you heat some up. I’m thinking I may have a second helping of my pasta and it might be...nice to eat with you, too.”

“One re-heated plate of lasagna coming up.”

“It’s nice that even though I am not feeling up to doing something for you both, I can still enjoy seeing you have something you like to eat.”

“Is that why you did it?”

“Well, of course. I didn’t cook things you didn’t like to watch you get sick on them.”

“No, I mean you wanted to see us like the food. And even if you didn’t make it, it still makes you happy.”

“Why did you want to make the lasagna for me, Watson?”

“Ah. Yeah. Same reason. See you happy. Right.”

“Right.”

“What’s good for the goose is good for the gander.”

“Why are we talking about geese now?”

“Forget it.”

“I’d rather not forget something else presently.”

“Oh. Sorry, wrong turn of phrase. Suppose it might be nice to forget about the case though. Or uni.”

“Unlikely.”

“At least you won’t forget me, or Mariana anytime soon.”

“That is true, Watson. I find you both, rather unforgettable.”

“Cheers. Want me to heat that up for you, too?”

“Please.”

______

Check it out on AO3 too!

#sherlock & co #sherlock and co #john watson #sherlock holmes #event #fanfiction #fanart #flash bang #flashbang event #mariana ametxazurra

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mist-touchedxiv · 7 months ago

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Thanks to @aislingsurrow for the tag! Makes me feel welcome! 🥰

I'll nominate @iona-xiv , @elypiphoros, @chadhunkler, @kaddiekait and @but-first--tea

Basics

Name: Loksen Tyr

Nicknames: Loki

Age: 75+

Nameday: 15th Sun Second Astral Moon (March 15th, I think that's right)

Race: Veena Viera

Gender: Male

Orientation: Heterosexual (includes transwomen as long as he likes their scent)

Profession: Drifter and adventurer. Will do odd jobs for gil.

Physical Aspects

Hair: Wild, long and thick black with unusual blue streaks. Wears a few braids with feathers entwined in them in the Wood-warder tradition. Almost has a mullet as he keeps the front shorter. Will sometimes pull it into a loose bun.

Eyes: Deep crystalline blue. Like shards of Hydaelyn Herself.

Skin: Pale olive complexion mostly free of imperfections

Tattoos/Scars: Fingertips heavily calloused and scarred from years of archery practice. Branding scar on the back of his neck to show that he was a Garlean prisoner. Has a rather long thin scar on his right side that goes from front to back. Very low-key blue tattoo over his left eye applied by a friend.

Family

Parents: As normal for Viera, Loksen barely knew his father; meeting him only a few times in passing. But, he was a good man who would bring gifts to his mother and him when he visited periodically. Loksen mainly remembers that his mother would smile and laugh more when he came to visit and the general mood was raised around him.

Mother: Freja Grimholt, a shaman. Well-respected member of his village who would often offer guidance to others. A spiritual leader, she instilled in him a sense of wonder and a quiet respect for the Mist. She also taught him to love Vieran poetry.

Siblings: A couple of younger sisters whom he only met a couple times when they were very young kits. He hasn't seen them since before the fall of Dalmasca. Sometimes wonder how they're doing, a melancholic thought as he doesn't know what happened to the Skatay Range after Garlemald invaded Othard.

Grandparents: Unknown, Loksen's mother came from a different clan and village.

In-laws and Other: Various aunts on his mother's side, some biological, some friends, a couple sometime lovers of his mother.

Pets: None, but loves companion animals.

Skills

Abilities: An extremely skilled archer, it was the weapon he chose when he became a Wood-warder. The grueling training of a Wood-warder demanded talent and ability in equal measure and over the decades has honed his skills even further. Loksen has been known to provide demonstrations of Vieran sharpshooting to Woodwailers and engage in friendly contests of skill with the Gods' Quiver when he's in Gridania.

Master survivalist. The life of a Wood-warder required the ability to live out in the wilderness alone and with little resources, those who failed to learn ultimately died. He can be put in nearly any hostile environment and find a way to not just live, but thrive.

Super Sniffer: Possesses a keen, near-animalistic sense of smell. It could even be argued that their olfactory sense holds a greater importance even than sight; where one is limited by obstructing trees, the other can sense information for up to several malms, if focused. This, combined with being naturally aetherially capable, allows a Viera to even smell and parse the aether around them. Along with this talent comes the ability to recognise other individuals based on their unique scent, as well as to glean details from their ambient pheromones; their sex, their vague emotional state, their receptivity to mating, and other such physical factors. Where one’s pheromones are more akin to an olfactory fact sheet (providing basic physical information), their individual scent is their fingerprint and facial features – a unique identifier and a source of attraction all in one. Of course, this can be a handicap around bad smells.

Keen Ears: Like all Viera, he possesses extraordinary hearing, which is also reputed to be aetherically attuned. Normally if he wants to protect his ears and wishes to be relatively inconspicuous, he'll pile his ears under a hat.

Master Swordsman: These days he prefers the blade as his weapon of choice. Introduced to the Doman warrior tradition by an old samurai he was imprisoned with, he proved to be a natural, especially in the art of iai and over the years have continue to further hone his skill.

Hobbies: Fishing. Mahjong. Vieran romance poetry. Whittling.

Traits

Most Positive Trait: Despite being reserved to the point of being mistaken for aloof, Loksen possesses a good heart and a desire to help when he can.

Most Negative Trait: Can come across as aloof and still struggles with some social skills due to the isolation of being a Wood-warder and the trauma of being imprisoned.

Likes

Colors: Blues, blacks and silver/gray.

Smells: The salt spray. Vanilla. Lavender and rose. Water. Wood. Pickled fish. Grilled meat. Apple.

Textures: Smooth wood. Cool scales. Soft grass to lay on. Warm skin.

Drinks: Tea. Viera aquavit and mead (hard to get). Sake. Pickling juice.

Other Details

Smokes: Yes. Smokes tobacco from a kiseru to dull his sense of smell around bad scents.

Drinks: Partial to sake and other strong spirits. Carries a flask with him. Handles his alcohol well.

Drugs: Aside from some natural herbs, nope.

Mount Issuance: None

Been Arrested: Was imprisoned for several years for futilely resisting the Garlean invasion of Dalmasca. Performed hard labor in harsh conditions.

#ffxiv oc #ffxiv rp #ffxiv viera #ff14 viera #oc lore #ffxiv writing #oc game #lore sen tyr

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kozykricket · 3 months ago

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i think honestly mojang is in a cycle where they're CREATING people who are unsatisfied. when you keep adding extrinsic rewards and jingling shiny keys for people to go collect, then its like. yes those are fun! but they run out. especially when its just one or two really really well developed and thought out shiny thing every year. gonna be real if you want to go for Shiny Shiny Stuff, then you gotta go for quantity over quality in some way tbh. because ...people have become accustomed to new shiny things to collect, but then that leaves them feeling unsatisfied that there isnt MORE its like, the sniffer but on a larger scale; the sniffer having only two plants makes people disappointed that there isnt like, 15 different plants from it. the expectation is "oo yesi love this i want more!!" but if it had none in the first place, then. okay. people wouldn't have the disappointment of lack of plants they wouldnt be asking for more plants

and likewise, i dont think people would be asking for more cool things to seek out and find in minecraft, if they werent being given little bits of new adventures to go on with new shiny rewards it realistically started all the way back in 1.11 when the focus became more on exploration, but the jingling of keys began in .. hm. 1.16 or 1.17, probably. 1.16 is an exception because the nether was a nothingburger beforehand, tbh. and it doesnt leave much of the nether feeling lacking because... well, the dimension is MOSTLY covered in new stuff! by proxy of originally being nothing! but the overworld already has tons of stuff, and . being given more stuff... just. mm i cant word things correctly but. more new places to go with new things (sherds, echo shards, now resin) is like. that just makes you wish for more. and its insatiable to keep that up forever minecraft is becoming a halfbaked terraria, in terms of adding more extrinsic goals

can the game succeed past this? yeah

but i think its in an extremely awkward state of being right now

#jake post #minecraft #minecraft ramblings

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bloop-im-a-frog-now · 8 months ago

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Sniffer Adventure and Pets

Pearl checked her inventory one last time.

“Sword, pickaxe, shovel, brush, golden carrots,” she hummed to herself. “Maybe I should bring a shield. Juuust in case.”

Once she crafted her shield, she beamed to herself and went out the door, the rumbles of the warden head vibrating her feet. She flew off and was ready to explore those warm ocean ruins.

She couldn’t get the two rarest flowers without some sniffers sniffing the seeds for her.

Tango had told her to head South, where most Hermits haven’t touched any warm ocean ruins. Most have gone North and West, where they could also get the mangrove wood and be left alone while grinding resources.

She threw a rocket to the ground, flying off as she held her Post Office cap on her head during the journey. Pearl didn’t want it to fly off and forever be lost. She loved the hat.

The first warm ocean she encountered didn’t have a lot of suspicious sand. Still, she brushed it, uncovering the mysterious items buried deep in it, like she was discovering fossils.

The first one ended up being a stick, an item very unnecessary for Pearl at the moment.

“What a shame,” she muttered to herself.

She brushed another suspicious sand block, muttering to herself “Sniffer egg, sniffer egg, sniffer egg” like a prayer that would be granted. Instead, she found an emerald.

“Aw man,” Pearl pouted. “I don’t even have a villager hall.”

She was hoping to use other Hermits’ villager hall this season. She kept the emerald for good measure.

“Maybe if I find gravel instead of sand?” She asked herself.

Right beside her was suspicious gravel, and she grinned.

“You cannot escape Pearl’s brush, you little gravel.”

She brushed it carefully, and saw something red being dug out.

She gasped. “Is this it? Did I finally found one?”

The more she uncovered, the more she realized it was a pottery shard. She let out a frustrated groan.

“I feel like I’m gonna find a lot of these pottery shards.”

And how she wished she was wrong. After visiting one-too many ocean ruins (it was more like two, but flying around to find them was worst than finding the mangrove forest), Pearl was almost ready to give up on this region of the world. She looked at the last suspicious sand and glanced back at her brush.

“One last try. C’mon Pearlie, just one last time. This time, it’ll be a sniffer egg. I can feel it in my bones.”

Despite her pep talk, she did not feel confident about the loot in the suspicious sand. Every centimetres she uncovered, her breath stuck in her throat, as if she’d be disappointed by what the sand would unravel.

She saw red, and inhaled loudly in the bubble column she used for breathing — a fatal flaw in her preparations was to bring water breathing potions. She closed one eye, as if the disappointment would be less grand if she didn’t fully witness it.

It could be another pottery shard, or it could be a smithing template. Pearl played on loop the mantra “sniffer egg, sniffer egg, sniffer egg” in her head, brushing like every mistake would cost her her life.

God she hoped it was a sniffer egg.

Suddenly, she saw green spots on the object, and she let out a squeal of joy. She brushed the rest of the sand away and admired the wonderful egg in the palms of her hands.

“What a beauty,” she whispered.

She slowly caressed it with her index finger, cooing at it.

“You’re gonna look amazing, and you’re gonna dig out sooo many flowers for me, and you’re gonna help me make money. Oh, it’s gonna be wonderful!”

The egg did not reply, but Pearl didn’t need a response. She gently tucked it in her inventory, swimming up to the surface until a huge realization struck her.

She needed two eggs to have more than one sniffer.

She groaned. “Damn you breeding mechanics.”

And thus, the search for a second sniffer egg began, much quicker than the first one. She didn’t listen to Tango’s advice and immediately went West, where there was a warm ocean biome that would surely have an ancient ruin in it.

When she spotted one, she flew immediately down, and gasped in excitement when she saw suspicious gravel and sand.

Her luck would definitely turn around this time.

“C’mon, c’mon, c’mon,” she whispered to herself as she brushed a suspicious gravel.

It gave her a pottery shard.

She inhaled sharply. “It’s fine, that’s okay, I can — there’s more! Just — brush these, it’s gonna be okay, you’ll find a sniffer egg. Yeah,” she nodded to herself, “the next one’ll be it.”

She had guessed correctly. She rolled on the ball of her feet in joy and took the sniffer egg in her hand, gently petting it.

“You’re gonna be amazing in my farm,” she whispered to it encouragingly.

It didn’t respond. Pearl didn’t really care, she swimmed to the surface and flew to her base as fast as she could.

She wanted to see those sniffers hatch, after all.

Pearl almost face-planted to her roof with how fast she was going. She threw open the door to the sniffer room, a nice bamboo and sand colour with green grass surrounding it. She took out the first egg from her inventory, and carefully placed it on the ground, making sure it wouldn’t fall and break once Pearl let go of it.

It was standing proud in her base, a nice splash of colour in a room that blended into itself. She hummed in satisfaction and placed her fists on her hips.

“Yeah, that'll do,” she smiled. “Now, time for little guy number two!”

She bit her lower lip as the egg touched the ground, hands so gentle with it, as if it was a block she needed to put at the perfect spot for it to fit with the rest of her build. She couldn’t afford to break it, those eggs were so hard to find, and she needed those flowers so badly.

She made sure the egg was balanced on its own before taking her hands off of it. She beamed when the two eggs stood proudly on their own in the green house.

“You guys will be adorable, I can already tell. Now,” she went towards her door, “I’ll go fix some redstone while you two hatch. Be good.”

She looked at them sternly when she said it and left the room to go downstairs, where her redstone was. The Hermit hummed as she thought. Etho suggested she put a player’s head on the noteblock to not hear the farm or the allays activating it.

She slammed her fist against the palm of her hand.

“Time to search for a player's head,” she declared.

As she went to do that, the sniffers in the egg slowly squirmed in place, getting warmed up to hatch. The cracks were already there when she came up to the farm, where her sniffers would dig out the flowers for her shop.

“You guys are already hatching!” She exclaimed, a wide smile on her face. “Wait up, I wanna see you out of your shell, don’t you dare do anything.”

She changed the head she already had on the noteblock only for a small snort to echo in the room. Pearl swivelled around and cooed at the sight.

“You guys are so cute,” there was only one sniffer hatched, cleaning itself from the juices of the egg.

The second one hatched right under Pearl’s eyes, and she gasped in surprise.

“Down right adorable,” she cooed again, and slowly approached the sniffer who had finished cleaning itself. “Hey there little guy,” she greeted, and scratched the top of its head.

It snorted and shook its head like it had water splashed on it. Pearl chuckled and scratched underneath its chin. Immediately, it fell on its stomach, eyes closed and let the Hermit pet it.

“Oh, you’re so adorable. You like Pearl’s scratches? Yes you do, oh you big guy.”

The second bumped its head against Pearl’s shoulder, making doe eyes at her, pleading for something. She laughed and scratched right between its ears.

“Aw, you felt left out?”

The sniffer fell right beside her, caging her between the two of them. She laughed and continued her pets, appreciating this last moment she’ll probably ever spend with her sniffers.

“You guys are so big for babies. Can’t wait for the money you’re gonna make for me.”

The sniffers simply snorted and let themselves be petted by the Hermit. This sniffer farm will be better than her last one, Pearl just knew it.

#hermitaday #ITS STILL THE 11 WHERE I AM #I AM NOT LATE #bloop’s attention seeking strategy #pearlescentmoon #I had fun writing this ngl #italics are not showing up but I do not care at this point #there will be an ao3 link tomorrow #here’s the story of Pearl trying to get sniffers and then receiving pets #bc I have a bias towards animals

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