#writing this was silly and fun ;v;’

[candycryptids]

😇- What's their best trait?

👿- What's their worst trait?

for Tuesday and Chuu

“Miss Chuu’s best trait? Mmm… You said this is an interview for your retelling of the Warriors of Light and their journey, right? I’d say it’s her unshakeable resolve. She decides she’s going to do something, and she doesn’t give up until it’s done. Ah… I’m not allowed to speak more on Miss Chuu without her presence, my apologies, mister Levraut.”

“You broke into my house,”

“Your lovely wife let me in actually,”

“To wake me up from my nap and interrogate me on my assistant,”

“Interview, Mademoiselle, not interrogate. Though I am sorry for waking you, your eyes were open so I assumed-”

“Ah-ta-ta. You wanted to know Two’s best trait right? Adaptability. Any environment, any obstacle… he’s got brains enough to figure the way through most anything. And failing that? He knows a top notch engineer in Magitek to kit him with the right tools to overcome his few shortcomings. Hey wait did you fucking call me a mad gazelle, you lop-eared scab?!”

“Thank you for your time, both of you. I have just one more question before I consider this interview complete and I let you both go back to your.. erm, busy schedules. What would you say is each others weakest trait?”

“I knew it! This IS an interrogation! Two, don’t-”

“Ah, that would be Miss Chuu’s paranoia, mister Levraut. Most of her other traits net positive gain,”

“Watch your mouth, Two.”

“That is.. ah, her paranoid trait has served to pull her out of many situations she would have landed in had they not afforded her foresight and caution to approach most situations.”

“Two’s worst trait is how I just can’t seem to keep mad at him when he finds and exploits loopholes in whatever rules I’ve set for him. And last week I asked him to bring me lunch, and he was nowhere to be seen for nearly six bells.”

“… Miss Chuu, if I may, you were in Azys La, and you called me via Linkpearl to bring you specifically egg sandwiches from the Bismark, even utilizing the Aethernet it takes time… and when I arrived at your last marked location you were nowhere to be found.”

[Duo Oc Ask Meme !]

[bones-of-a-rabbit]

to prove i have, in fact, been thinking abt (it was, in reality, not fine), here's a doodle abt Reader experiencing a real, actual Thought for the first time in like five years

(no this isnt the canon version of what happens im sorry y'all still gotta wait for that to happen in th fic lol)

(also their brain is the dvd logo hitting the corner of th screen in the first doodles. its hard to tell ik im sorry sdkjfhsjdfhs)

[heylittleriotact]

𝐢 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐝𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 19

𝐄𝐦𝐦𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐱 𝐑𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐌𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐧 𝐅𝐮𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐇𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐀𝐔

𝐑𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐧𝐞𝐰𝐬, 𝐄𝐦𝐦𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐚𝐝𝐯𝐢𝐜𝐞, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐡 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐠𝐨 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫.

Read below or on ao3

Rook had been helping him set up a service in the main chapel when Vorgoth materialized seemingly out of nowhere, while she was setting out the RESERVED chair covers on the first two rows for the family.

"Rook."

She flinched and whipped around at the sound of the enigmatic manager's stoic baritone, nearly dropping the stack of green velvet fabric draped over her forearm. "Fuck!"

Emmrich glanced up from arranging the urn spray around the base of the handsome brass urn containing the cremated remains of Mr. Herbert Knox.

If Vorgoth had taken issue with Rook's language, they made no indication of it, their face - solemn and bearing same sort of ageless wisdom as hewn granite - remained as unreadable and emotionless as ever.

"Sorry Vorgoth–" Rook said, shoulders slackening. "I didn't hear you come in."

"The maintenance staff has done well to ensure that the hinges of the chapel doors are appropriately lubricated: they shall be commended for their diligence."

"Errr... uh... good?" Rook offered, smiling weakly.

"Is your duty pressing?" Vorgoth asked, though it wasn't really asking - they had a knack for re-arranging your priorities as they saw fit. "It falls to me that I must discuss a matter of great importance with you."

Emmrich might as well have been invisible for all the notice Vorgoth had spared him - as far as they were concerned, they and Rook were the only ones in the room. He frowned and went back to primping the blooms and leaves around the base of the urn that was set out on a set of nesting cherry wood tables at the front of the chapel, keeping an ear open: what important matter?

"Uh... yeah, sure." Rook sounded just as caught off guard by this as Emmrich was. Hopefully it was nothing unpleasant... another chargeback, or Maker forbid a family complaint, but he very much doubted it: Rook was so detail oriented in her work, and had an undeniable aptitude for knowing how to meet the bereaved on their level in terms of communication and body language. It seemed so unlikely that she would be capable of wronging a family so intensely.

"Follow me." Their head turned with a smoothness that was distinctly un-human, and their dark and unsettling black eyes met Emmrich's. "Take care, Volkarin."

"And you, Vorgoth."

"Pray for me," Rook mouthed to Emmrich after Vorgoth turned and started silently retreating up the aisle, and then she followed them.

She wasn't gone long - slightly more than ten minutes had passed before she slipped back through the chapel doors, heaving a huge sigh as she ensured they were closed behind her.

"Is everything all right, darling?" Emmrich felt his stomach twist unpleasantly at the grim expression on Rook's face. He set down the photo frame he was wiping down with a dust cloth and met her halfway down the aisle.

"They put me on probation," she said sullenly, eyes turned downwards as if she couldn't bring herself to look at him. "I guess a family I helped with an obituary complained because it ran in the Times with a pretty big mistake that I didn't catch. It's not my fucking fault they gave me a printed copy of a typed obituary to re-type - if they'd sent me the actual Word document… who fucking prints a typed document?”

"Probation?" Emmrich repeated in disbelief: how could such action be justifiable when the employee in question was held in high esteem by colleagues and management alike?

"Yup. Gotta straighten up and fly right, I guess..."

She still couldn't look at him, her shoulders were rounded with the weight of shame, all of the wind stolen from her typically confident, self-assured sails.

His heart ached at the sight of her in such a state, and then ached further when it occurred to him that, of course - yes - they had dinner plans that night to celebrate Rook passing her road test and getting her license. This certainly put a damper on the occasion...

"Rook..." He drew her into a hug in the middle of the serene space and stroked her soft black hair as he held her close in an attempt to comfort her.

Oh dear, the poor thing... he could feel her trembling against him.

"Sweetheart..." He pulled back enough to get a look at her, fully expecting tearful eyes and wet cheeks only to find himself gazing into Rook’s beaming face. “Wha—?”

“I love fucking with you.” She grinned. “No probation for this bitch: Flora is being let go and they're so pleased with the quality of my work and my 'gumption' that they want to move me permanently to Pemberly Crossing!”

Brat. You are a brat, Rook Ingellvar, playing games with an old man’s heart-rate like that, he wanted to say.

Instead he collapsed in on himself with a relieved sigh, and groaned when she hugged him tightly. “I suppose that’s why you’ve been charged with training Bryony for the past week...”

“Pfffft - that could mean anything around here.” Rook let go and swept past him, a bounce in her step that had not been there earlier as she practically sashayed back to the front rows of chairs and resumed her task. “Been here long enough to know that this place hemorrhages staff - the turnover is atrocious. I’m surprised they’re firing Flora at all when we’re as short-staffed as we are already.”

“This profession isn’t for everybody,” Emmrich conceded, lips pressing in a thin line. He returned to the nesting tables and began polishing the glass of the old picture frame once more. “My heart goes out to Flora, however: she’s a hard worker and means well…” he propped the frame on the table with the gentlest of hands and regarded a black and white version of a young Mr. Knox smiling cheerfully back at him on the occasion of his wedding day, Mrs. Knox - equally as gleeful - on his arm looking resplendent in a white gown with a wide skirt that emphasized her tiny waist - as was popular the popular fashion back then. It was a moment frozen in time that tugged at something heavy and old deep within the recesses of his heart - a yearning for that same kind of utterly uncontainable joy. He blinked and looked up. "If she was only a bit more... careful..."

"Yeah, well that's exactly how she screwed herself in the end," Rook finished with the reserved signs and began triangling the protruding tissues of the boxes of Kleenex that occupied every few seats of the first two rows.

"Dear me, do you know what happened?"

He could feel badly for Flora and still sate his curiosity as to what exactly she'd done to get fired - Emmrich Volkarin was a man of principles, but like most morticians, could not resist the intrigue of a juicy piece of gossip...

“A family changed their mind at the viewing and told her they wanted their loved one’s wedding ring removed after the viewing and placed in the urn, but she didn’t note that anywhere, so it was cremated with him because the crem operator didn’t know.”

Emmrich tsk-ed and shook his head: the margin for error in the funeral profession was slim indeed, but many mistakes were correctable - if they were caught in time, or soothed over with an appropriate level of contrition (and the offer of a sizeable sum knocked off the final bill.) Unfortunately it was impossible to un-cremate an irreplaceable personal item like a wedding band…

These were the sort of mistakes that cut deep and lingered in their tragic magnitude: now not only was the family dealing with the loss of their loved one, but an item of great sentimental value that belonged to them was now gone forever too.

Mistakes like that were why people didn’t trust morticians - thought them greedy and detached from the personal circumstances of those they professed to care for. Such mistakes gave the entire profession a bad rap for the sheer fact that they were the sort of mistakes that made it into review websites and made rounds on social media… sometimes they even finding their way into the local news.

So rarely was the public graced with the words of melancholy gratitude that tended to arrive months after the funeral in the form of a heartfelt thank you card that was tacked to a cork board in the staff room and promptly forgotten…

“Dear oh dear…” he tutted again, setting up the final photo frame: Mr. Knox, a few years older than he was in his wedding photo, wearing a colourful party hat and grinning proudly at the camera, a small child balanced on each of his knees: a boy and a girl, both giddy and surely stuffed with sugar, wearing party hats of their own. Toys and balloons of every colour littered the shag carpet around them and a banner was pinned to the floral wallpaper behind them that read ‘HAPPY BIRTHDAY’.

“Don’t feel too bad for Flora,” Rook scoffed “This is great for me: Pemberly is less central but it’s still one of the busier chapels, and I’m being trusted with loads more responsibility because there’s no other admins or staff permanently scheduled there. Plus it's closer to my apartment.”

“I won’t get to see you as often...” he said more to the photo frame and less to Rook.

“Huh?”

“I said I won’t get to see you as often: I always start my day at this chapel and only go to Pemberly if I’m scheduled there for arrangements or a service.”

Rook fiddled with a particularly resistant sheet of Kleenex. “You’re at Pemberly at least a few days a week,” she pointed out. “Also, I’m your girlfriend: you see me all the time anyway.”

He turned from the table to look at her, his fingers twining together as he stood alone at the front of the chapel with his perfectly coiffed hair and his immaculate three-piece suit. "I never tire of seeing you, Rook..."

He meant it... oh, Andraste, he meant it with all his heart and soul...

Rook, clearly too exhilarated by Vorgoth's news and in no mood for sentimentality, finished with the last box of Kleenex and straightened. "Always so charming," she smiled and straightened her skirt. "I should probably go see if Bryony needs help or has any questions - I'll be back in a few minutes to help finish up, okay?" She entered his orbit again, the cosmic mystery that she was, and brushed her lips against his, squeezing his hand before departing through the side door of the chapel.

"Yeah-yeah-yeah... I'd put a ring on that finger if I was you, mister."

Emmrich turned to see the ghost of Mr. Knox, elderly and dressed for comfort in loafers and a roomy cardigan, standing a few feet in front of the nesting tables, admiring the display that was his urn, the flowers, and the many photos showcasing his wonderful life, hands deep in the pockets of his baggy khaki trousers.

"Oh..." he started, "We've... I'm sorry, Mr. Knox - I didn't realize you were here. I apologize if any of what you saw or heard was inappropriate."

A wrinkled hand emerged from the pocket to wave away Emmrich's apology before vanishing once more. "Call me Herb."

“My apologies… Herb.”

“Nah, nothing to apologize for. But you should take my advice and wife that one up - Rook, I think I heard you call her?” He waited for Emmrich to nod in confirmation before continuing. “When I was young, my Daddy always told me ‘Herb, find yourself a good gal that’ll keep you on your toes and make you laugh and you’ll never wake up unhappy a day in your life’ - smart man, my Daddy. That’s him there, with me and the first fish I ever caught.” He pointed at one of the oldest photos, smile widening.

“Sound advice from the old man,” he reiterated. “Found my precious Pearl because of it.” He chuckled through a wheezing cough and pushed the same heavy black rectangular glasses he wore for much of his life up the bridge of his nose. “Well… more likely she found me, truth be told,” he admitted. “Yeah-yeah… made a hell of a life together, we did…”

From the vital statistics information and the will provided by Herb’s children, Emmrich knew that Pearl had predeceased her husband by only a year - in fact they had used McDermott & Rafferty for her service as well, though Emmrich hadn’t been the funeral director to work with the family then.

It was not at all uncommon to see elderly, long-married couples pass within months of one another: the phenomenon was poorly studied and largely unexplained, but it made perfect sense to Emmrich that after so many years happily spent with another person, their sudden absence would rend a void in one’s heart that was far too profound to recover from at that age: ‘Where one goes, the other will surely soon follow…’ was the phrase commonly uttered in mortuary circles.

“It looks that way,” Emmrich agreed. “You - both of you - must have been terribly proud of your family.”

Herb tilted his head from side to side in half-agreement. “There were bumps in the road - like everything else in life. I had Alzheimer’s for the past eight years and couldn’t count to ten or tell you when the last time I took a shit, but even though I didn’t know who the hell I was ninety-percent of the time… I always knew Pearl.” His translucent, ethereal eyes landed on the wedding photo and the muscles in his cheek twitched under his constant smile. “She loved me right to the very end, even when I was useless… and I loved her.”

“A lucky - but rare - fate."

Herb emitted another raspy, crackling laugh and threw back his head. “Damn right, fella! So take my advice and marry that Rook gal - you’re just as good for her as she is for you. Old men like me can suss these things out, don’t you know?”

“Perhaps…” Emmrich felt heat rise in his cheeks. “We’ve only been together a short time, and as much as I’d love—”

Herb interrupted him when he pointed at another photo - one of himself and Pearl, both of them young and wearing jeans, leaning against the hood of a massive old Chevy sedan. They were clearly at a drive-in movie.

“That was our first date: ‘Terrified’ with Rob Lauren, Steve Drexel, and Tracy Olsen - terrible film - just awful… but entirely unforgettable because I watched it with her. I knew the second she got frightened and spilled Cherry Coke all over my lap that she was the love of my life. Popped the question a week later, and that was that: she made me laugh and kept me on my toes… and I never woke up unhappy a day in my life after that.”

“Things are a bit different, these days, I’m afraid—” Emmrich argued without really knowing why.

“You are afraid,” Herb pointed out without a crooked and knowing grin. “That’s love: the real stuff at least… scares you shitless - at least it should.” He made to clap Emmrich’s shoulder, but his hand just passed through his back and drifted out of his chest instead, causing Emmrich to go rigid as goosebumps erupted on his skin at the chilling sensation that he never got used to. “Huh... that was freaky...” Herb shoved the hand back in his pocket. “Anywho, you’ve entertained the lovesick ramblings of an old man long enough, fella, and I know you’ve got work to do, so I won’t keep you. Besides - I’ve got a date with my wife.” He raised and lowered his eyebrows furtively, a doggish tilt to his thin lips.

“You don’t want to stay for the service?”

“No, sir! Got a whole afterlife to look forward to, don’t I? Why waste it hanging around here like a bump on a log?” He shrugged and began shuffling towards the door, pausing only to wag an arthritic finger at Emmrich and say, “Marry her, son!” Before he disappeared through the solid wood.

Her hair was sleek and silky, flat-ironed straight and misted with some product that smelled faintly of tangerines and made it shine beautifully. 

It was a different look for her: her hair had natural wave to it that she usually emphasized with various styling tools and sprays. The straightness of it might have looked lank and severe if not for the way it streamed and swayed like black water in an underground creek whenever she moved her head.

Emmrich found it endlessly fascinating how healthy she somehow managed to keep her hair despite insisting on colouring it with dye that came out of a box purchased from the grocery store...

An inky handful of strands slipped over her shoulder as she perused the cocktail menu in front of her, and she tucked them behind her ear - the easy, habitual motion nearly driving the breath from his lungs like it had hundreds of times before… yet as her pale hand returned to its place on her lap she remained completely unexplained; rendering him tongue-tied and at a loss.

She was just a person, wasn’t she? Like any one of the billions of other people walking the Earth. Just a person with flaws and faults and strange habits and idiosyncrasies; likes and dislikes; a history… and a future.

How had she evaded him for so long? He wondered as her dark Merlot stained lips split in a glowing smile of delight as she realized - then explained - that all of the cocktails were named for places and characters from Miyazaki films.

He’d done well, then - made the right choice in venue. It pained him greatly that this was his first time treating her to dinner: an excuse to finally pull out all of the elaborate stops and do what he did best by calling in the odd favour owed that it took to get a last minute reservation at a place like this, booking a private car for the evening that would take them anywhere they wanted at a moment's notice; lavishing compliments and praises upon her from the moment she appeared in the doorway of her apartment to greet him, draped in a clingy burgundy dress with thin straps and black roses patterned all over.

A gift - small, humble, simple: another new plant for her collection, was produced from behind his back and slipped into her waiting hands, the emerald he had given her catching the light of the entryway as her feminine fingers curled around the glazed clay pot and she beamed at him like he had been personally responsible for fabricating the cosmos.

He knelt to buckle the thin straps of the black block-heel shoes she wore, then helped her put on her coat before guiding her into the hallway and to the car, offering her his arm as they descended the stairs, holding every door for her, and ensuring she was safe and comfortable in the hired black sedan before rounding the other side - the quintessential gentleman.

It was no different than how he comported himself for any other romantic partner he'd had in the past: such habits were ingrained in him after so many years... came to him with the same memorized ease that Rook had displayed when she hooked her hair behind her ear: be complimentary, but not patronizing; put her comfort and safety above your own at all times; don't stare at her breasts - no matter how enticing they may be in that little red thing she's wearing; and ensure that there will be no lingering uncertainty in her mind at the end of the evening how much you adore her.

Oddly enough, despite the relatively comfortable routine they'd found themselves in as a couple, he found himself somewhat nervous. Why? He couldn't quite say, but as she continued to pontificate about the seemingly boundless virtues of Studio Ghibli films, he felt the whisper of those first-date - first real date - jitters feather down his spine.

“You’re… beautiful…” he heard the words trundle gracelessly off the end of his thick tongue, not vetted and phrased with the brand of deliberate eloquence he was so careful to truss all of his sentiments in.

His fingertips tip-tapped against his thighs and Rook’s chattering came to an abrupt halt, her mouth rounding into a cute little ‘o’ accompanied by the most endearing flush of colour visible on her cheeks even in the dim light of the restaurant.

She hooked the strand of hair behind her ear again, despite it not having fallen out of place. “Thank you…” she said. “You’re not so bad either—” her eyes wandered over him, pupils wide due to the dark environment. “— all black is a good look for you…”

The way her eyes cut through him: equal parts hunger and adoration - had he ever felt so… wanted?

His stomach flip-flopped on itself, and he was reminded of how dearly he loved throwing himself at the mercy of her boundless kindnesses and affirmations; how desperately he loved the very act of being cherished by her, tempered by the ever-growing inclination to draw her closer still - physically and otherwise - so that she may never deign to part from him.

Because if he was being truthful with himself - which was admittedly a challenge most days due to his proclivity for romanticizing everything from a wilting flower to a jar of peanut butter with the lid left off - he could not imagine life without her… did not care to imagine life without her.

She niggled and teased and prodded and minimized and deflected and demurred - and during idle moments in his day he often found himself thinking back to that night after the Wintersend party when she asked him to hold her wrists against the wall and take her… how she had melted for him: warm, wet clay beneath him as he catered to her whim and played her game…

Perhaps she would like more of that. Perhaps that was the secret to securing her heart in perpetuity…

A discussion for another time, he decided, his internal monologue deafened by the race of his heart pushing blood directly into his cock at the hazy memory of Rook squirming against the wall as he teased and tormented her with his fingers. Tonight is about her accomplishments.

“Thank you, darling - I’m so glad you think so. Now, have you any idea what you might like to drink?”

“Mmmm… I think I’ll have the Princess Kaguya. What about you?” She leaned her elbows on the table and cradled her face in her hands.

“I’m afraid it’ll be a spur of the moment decision,” Emmrich remarked, noting the server approaching their table.

“Any questions about this evening’s menu?” The server inquired politely, having given them some time to settle in and look over the menu.

"We'll start with some cocktails, I think," Emmrich said, flipping the page of the black leather bound cocktail menu. "The lady will have the Princess Kaguya, and I'll have a gin martini please: Roku gin, olive garnish, light on the vermouth if you don't mind - feel free to simply stroll the open bottle past the cocktail shaker." He closed the menu and offered the waiter what he knew to be a charming smile. He could feel Rook's eyes burning into him across the table and immediately regretted his initiative: he was of the remnants of a time where it was expected that a gentleman ordered in restaurants on behalf of the lady - as a courtesy, and not due to any archaic belief that she wasn’t capable.

“Very good, sir.” The waiter politely bowed his head and departed from their table.

“No one’s uh… ever ordered something for me before,” her blank expression gave way to a flattered one. “… or referred to me as ‘the lady’ for that matter. It’s kind of nice.”

Though he didn’t think it possible, his heart softened further at her words: the fact that these social conventions that seemed so simple and obvious to him were exotic and unknown to her conjured a melancholy sense of pride within him that had him reaching over the table to extend his hand to her.

“As it so happens, I take great enjoyment in making you feel good, darling…” he clasped her delicate little fingers in his own and raised them to brush his lips against her knuckles, keeping his eyes on hers. “I shall endeavour to continue doing so…”

A shiver visibly coursed through her, causing her to sit up a little straighter, though he couldn’t be certain if it was due to his words or the tickle of the soft hairs of his moustache trailing over her skin.

“This is nice!” She blurted suddenly. “The restaurant, I mean. You’ve… you’ve been here before?”

Oh yes. He’d been to Ukiyo a handful of times with a handful of dates over the span of a handful of years, but tonight marked the first time the spirit of the upscale fine dining establishment’s moniker truly seemed appropriate: ‘the floating world’ was the literal translation of the word: in essence, to dwell completely in the present moment, free of the banal frustrations and tribulations of day-to-day life; a quasi-dreamlike state of being where one openly embraced the unconventional and slightly surreal, rather than attempting to rationalize it away under the guise of pragmatism.

A novel foundation for a contemporary culinary experience, and clever marketing to boot: more often than not these days, it seemed the concepts behind such establishments required their clientele to possess a philosophy major if they ever hoped to truly understand the deep intrinsic meaning behind the mouthful of aged sablefish they were paying an unholy amount of money to masticate and transform into waste.

The fact that the menu was a curated split selection of fish and vegan fare meant Emmrich could take just about anyone here and not be stuck eating a salad - a definite boon.

The place itself wasn’t Ukiyo, however - it was a celebrated and impeccably decorated restaurant with black walls and ceilings, white maple hardwood flooring, and just enough little black bistro tables scattered around that it didn’t quite look chintzy, but also lacked the volume of available place settings that would put it in the same category as the popular fine dining chains - as if the phrase 'popular fine dining chains' in and of itself wasn’t an appalling paradox.

Small koi ponds framed the perimeter of the room, illuminated by gentle pink and blue lights, the soft burbling of their water only occasionally audible over ambient conversation and the noises one would expect in any dining room; a backing track to the hip but non-intrusive electronic music that was just slightly too loud for Emmrich’s tastes.

This place wasn’t Ukiyo… she was.

“Not like this,” he answered, unwilling to let go of her hand… unwilling to part from the sheer kindness that was her touch - no one was staring or gawping… not in a place so dim and private amongst the deliberately arranged planters of broad Aralia. “Never with someone like you, Rook.”

What had gotten into him? Why was he brimming with such intense emotion?

Their first formal ‘date’ - surely… surely that was why. The novelty of something new… yes, yes, of course...

"Got it - this is where you take people you're hoping to get lucky with."

As he opened his mouth in scandalized retort, she pulled her hand from his - damn - and snagged her napkin, unfurling it and draping it over her lap.

"Oh come on - you've gotta stop letting me get such a rise out of you: it's too easy!" The black silken sheet of her hair rippled as she laughed. "I don't mean anything that I say, you know that, right? I don't usually make jokes at people I actually like - I'm just comfortable around you." She paused then, as if something had occurred to her. "Unless it actually bothers you, in which case I can totally tone it down.”

He considered her words and knew that she would - if he only asked. But why would he want to do that? A version of Rook who was constantly minding herself around him? Walking on eggshells and diminishing her true self in an effort to avoid bruising his fragile ego?

He got the sense that she was more acquainted with such behaviour than not...

"Of course not." He offered his thanks and another polite smile to the waiter who returned with their drinks and set them down, waiting until he was out of earshot before continuing. "You... make me laugh and keep me on my toes, and do you want to know something else, darling?"

A dead man told me I ought to marry you, today - and I'm sorely tempted to take his advice...

"What?" She looked down at the cherry-blossom-pink coloured drink before her that was topped with white foam and garnished with a twist of lemon peel, "Mmmm...."

"I wouldn't have you any other way - so no more talk of being anything other then exactly who you are... even if sometimes your wit has me wondering if I should put you over my knee."

Oh.

I said that aloud, didn't I?

Rook was staring at him: mouth slightly agape, the lemon peel gripped between her thumb and forefinger in mid-air. Shocked.

"I didn't - it's... it's not that I–" He felt his cheeks go an unbecoming shade of splotchy puce as he attempted to recover. "I would never raise - lift - raise a- a hand to you–!"

Rook's mouth closed and the lemon peel was deposited on the dark wood table. She rubbed her fingertips together and then sniffed them almost as if she didn't realize she was doing it.

"Fine then - do it."

"I would never disrespect a woman–" he forged on. "– such crass behaviour is simply not who I am: I may be an orphan, but I was raised with values and moral fibre and–" Emmrich faltered only a few words into the improvised defense of his good character that had lined up on his tongue, frowning deeply. "– and... what?"

"If you have such strong feelings about my attitude, don't keep them to yourself on my account." She shrugged and finally sipped the cocktail, licking her lips before saying, "Fuck that's good."

Flummoxed, Emmrich tried again, "Perhaps you misheard me, which is why I'm apologizing–"

"For what? You said sometimes you wanna toss me over your knee when I drive you up the wall, and I said go for it: I heard you perfectly well - I'm not fucking stupid, Emmrich." Another dainty little sip. followed by another exclamation about how good the drink was.

"Now, I didn't imply that–!"

"Honestly, you could pretty much do whatever you wanted to me and I'd let you. For starters, you're that fucking hot and I'm that fucking attracted to you, and beyond that: I trust you more than I trust my own mother, which... I mean - okay I guess the bar is low there - but still: you wanna leave a few handprints on my ass? Be my guest."

"Rook, I'm not looking to impose some sort of... of... alternative dynamic on our relationship–"

Oh dear, there it was - the mental image courtesy of the imagination of a filthy old man materializing in his mind's eye: Rook, naked and posed over his lap while he was fully clothed, squirming against him as he soothed the tender pink flesh of her rear with gentle touches from the same hand that had reddened them to begin with...

The self-indulgent, maladaptive daydreams of one lost in fantasy. Preposterous.

But so... so difficult to ignore...

"Will you buy me a car?"

She blinked. Smiled. Sipped her dainty cocktail like she already knew the answer because she - crafty little thing - was well aware that she held all the cards.

Emmrich heard himself sigh and lifted his martini glass to his lips, greeted by the scent of gin and the faintest whiff of vermouth.

A ruby necklace... an emerald ring... a car - some people would call it 'being taken advantage of' but Emmrich was of the mind that it was something else entirely: assurance. The unspoken promise that being with him meant that Rook would never want for anything again - necessities or otherwise - for he may not possess traits that marked him worthy of love and affection and companionship, but he could most certainly provide for the one who chose to tether themselves to him.

It was the least that Emmrich 'You're-A-Lot' Volkarin, could do. Especially for the gorgeous young thing half his age, sitting across from him, who had so casually offered to realize his lurid and perverse fantasies.

Marry her, son!

"Do you have any particular make in mind?"

She beamed.

[boxwinebaddie]

uncle nina ravenstan era

[copia]

Storm Warning — 2.3k, copia pov, dissociation, angst, premonition stuff inspired by the tour poster — more tags on ao3

A bath would have set the world to rights, he thought. Nothing like a stew in lukewarm water until one’s fingers prune to put the mind at ease. It was his whole intention, his top priority—but Copia sat on the edge of his bed, suited and booted with his paints crusting off, until the sun had long dipped below the mountains and the fire had sputtered into cinders.  One night as Frater Imperator.

part 2 of I Fiaschi

[panepecora]

RE fic writers - where do u get definitive sources of info on the lore to keep your stories consistent?? i dont completely trust the fan wikis ToT

[queen-scribbles]

Potato Soup & Other Delicacies

First BG3 fic, let's gooo! \o/ ~1k, Tala and Gale talking about food, bc what better way to make friends? ---

"Turmeric? Really?!"

Tala laughed at the disbelieving tone. "That's what I said! But Lila was so insistent" --a small huff as she settled the lean-to frame together-- "I gave it a try, and damned if it wasn't delicious, even as the last thing you'd expect-"

"In a dessert," Gale finished with her, skepticism still plain on his face. He fussed with his own tent a moment longer. "I will admit, the thought wouldn't have occurred to me."

"Something about the way it interacts with the other flavors," she said, lashing the lean-to securely. The weather was pleasant; this would serve for tonight. "The earthiness enhances them, I suppose."

"No, I know how turmeric works," he said, settling his pack in his tent and kneeling to dig through the communal supplies for dinner ingredients. "I'd think it would be overpowering to everything else in a dish as small as a pie."

"I'm not saying chuck in a handful of it, Gale," Tala chuckled. She dipped her head toward the foodstuff he was gathering in silent inquiry if he wanted help, moved to do so when he nodded. "It's a tiny little pinch added to the filling before you even mix in the fruit."

"Next time I've the opportunity to make that particular pie, I'll give it a chance. Always good to be a bit adventurous, ey?"

"Almost always, at least." She glanced over at Wyll and Bottlen, still nursing some bruises from testing that adage earlier, then down at the growing pile of tubers between them. "What are we making for dinner?"

"Potato soup." Gale passed her a knife. "We have an abundance of the hearty fellows, and some are not much longer for the world. So rather than them go to waste, we have soup. Despite lacking some of the herbs I prefer to include, it will still be a filling--hopefully delicious--meal."

"I'm sure, all your cooking's been delicious so far." Tala hefted one of the larger potatoes, though in her hand it looked rather average. "Skin off or on after we wash them?"

"On, of course." He plunged several of the potatoes into the bucket of water someone had left while they were preoccupied discussing desserts. "Adds flavor."

"Oh, I'm of the same mind," she grinned following suit with the rest of the potatoes. "But I know some who peel them so it looks nicer, or they don't care for the texture. I didn't want to get halfway through cutting one up and find it should've been peeled first."

"A valid concern with all the cooking methods out there. Smart to check." Gale piled the clean potatoes on the rock between them. "D'you mind terribly if I work on the base while you cut these?" He swiveled one hand in a gesture at their companions. "We've a lot of mouths to feed, and some are less... patient about it than others."

Tala snickered. Is this where I make a joke about Halsin being a bear when he's hungry? "Not at all. Potato dicing happens to be my specialty."

That startled a laugh from Gale as he rummaged for other ingredients. "Do tell."

"Fastest and best at the orphanage," she said. She dragged over a smaller stewpot and set to work as she talked. "We took turn with the chores; rotating assignments by dormitories. Kitchen duty was always my favorite." Even if it had occasionally meant being pelted with eggshells or potato peels alongside muttered comments about her heritage. "The cook saw me watching him prep dinner and asked if I'd like to help so I could learn. No one else liked all the chopping so they let me have it whenever it was our turn there."

"And a chef was born?" Gale asked dryly, starting the base ingredients at a simmer.

"Hardly," Tala snorted. The potatoes were half-done, pile dwindling under her skilled hands even while she spoke. "I was in my teens before the cook took me as a more permanent helper, seeing as I enjoyed it so much, and even then... cooking for an orphanage and temple is usually simple fare that's easy to make in bulk. Potato soup, venison stew, roast boar on occasion. My travels haven't afforded much chance to learn fancier or more specialized dishes."

It was only sort-of untrue; the couple times she'd tried to get work at a tavern, they'd wanted her as muscle, not cook. She hadn't wanted to mire herself down for that.

Gale was watching her like he heard the part she hadn't explained. (Thanks to the tadpoles, maybe he had. She kept forgetting about the squirmy little buggers.) "Well, lucky for you," he began, giving the soup base a stir as the simmering picked up, "I happen to have a vast repertoire of recipes, and I'm more than happy to impart my wisdom to a willing mind."

"That part I knew," she teased. With the potatoes all cut, she hefted the stewpot. "And I would love to learn any you care to pass along." A pause. "Soon as we have a better selection of ingredients."

"Oh, pish." He stepped back to let her add the potatoes to the main pot. "There's at least four things I can show you with what we have."

"Alright, now I'm intrigued." She set the pot down and wiped her hand on her trousers. "Considering we didn't even have everything for the soup tonight."

"Adding a couple more herbs if I had my druthers is not to say our stocks are severely lacking," He waved away her droll words with a smile. "I'll show you tomorrow. Do you enjoy roast duck?"

"Who doesn't?" Tala rejoined, propping her chin on her palm to watch him with her job done.

"I knew there was a reason I got along with you." Gale's smile widened. "I'll show you how to prepare one that puts Audrine's to shame."

"Never eaten there, so I'll take your word both that it's an impressive feat and that you can do it."

"No?" He cocked his head. "But I thought you said you passed through..."

"Like most... upper-crust establishments, they weren't overly enthused about serving someone like me," she said with a shrug and sardonic--tusky--grin. "By which, of course, I mean a dusty, travel-stained cleric with more enthusiasm than coin."

Gale's brows twitched briefly toward furrowing before he--as she hoped--let it lie. "Well, you won't need to after I confer this knowledge upon you. For now, however, could you fetch some parsley, please?"

"Of course." Tala swiveled to root through pockets for the herb, tone completely innocent as she added, "Would you like some turmeric as well?"

"Very funny," he drawled. "And no, thank you. Just the parsley."

She handed it over and settled back in to resume watching. "What other sorts of things do you know how to make?"

Gale chuckled. "Do you want them alphabetically or categorized by course?"

Oh, that was promising. Tala grinned. "Surprise me."

[firefly-factory]

✨ - Tell something that makes this oc feel happy!

🧶 - Do they do any arts, crafts, or creative hobbies?

🍪 - What are their favorite scents?

☔ - How does this oc feel about rain?

🌲 - Do they have a favorite location to hang out in?

for Astor fam (dad, mom, bonus mom, weird dog)

More ask!! Thank youuuuuu <3 And yes let's talk about the Astor fam. I went ahead and answered every question for all of them so it's gonna be a little long :D

✨ - Tell something that makes this oc feel happy!

Herod (dad) - when something he's been working on pans out exactly how he intended. He knows that he can't control every aspect of a situation (though by Ganon he'll try his hardest to) so when things go off without a hitch he's always pleasantly surprised.

Leah (mom) - soft quiet moments with her loved ones. Some of her favorite moments from Astor was growing up were in the early-morning. He'd still be sleeping while she was getting ready for the day, and sometimes they'd open the windows early just to watch the sun rise together. Family is very important to her, and so whenever she's with her loved ones she'll savor every moment, even and especially the small ones.

Vaari (bonus mom) - she loves traveling in general, but her favorite part is the thrill of seeing something she's never seen before. It can be big things - like when she found the natural bridge hidden in cephla lake!!! - or teensy things, like when she saw a sunset firefly drinking from a dew drop early one morning. Best of all is when she's able to show these things to someone else. It magnifies the whole experience ten-fold

Harbinger ganon (weird dog) - the inevitable heat death of the universe. Barring that, it's a huge fan of a well-orchestrated ritual sacrifice :D

🧶 - Do they do any arts, crafts, or creative hobbies?

Herod - Manipulating people <3 But in all seriousness, he doesn't have a lot of time for creativity/proper hobbies because he's so focused on keeping things moving in the cult. When he does have free time, he'll usually spend it people-watching. He's incredibly interested in how people go about day-to-day, and if he sees a mannerism he like's he'll store it away for later.

Leah - Singing! Sometimes she'll sing traditional songs, other times she'll make up little lullabies for Astor or just sing about her day as she goes. She was actually a semi-professional singer before she joined the cult, and although she doesn't talk about that much anymore, the act of singing is still very comforting for her. Her father encouraged her to take it up when she was very young.

Vaari - She loves making jewelry, and is also does some embroidery! Still figuring out the timeline of this, but she's most likely the one who did the embroidery on Astor's robes. She's a traveling gem-merchant, and so whenever she has an imperfect stone, or one that just isn't selling, she turns it into jewelry. She's made a lot of jewelry for Leah, and also set the ruby in Astor's necklace (because that boy is ALWAYS cold).

Weird Dog™ - Hmm. Does tormenting wandering seers with visions of madness count?

🍪 - What are their favorite scents?

Herod - the smell of the woods at night in the summer.

Leah - Water on stone. She grew up in Deya Village and spent a lot of time playing down by the river, or up on the banks of the reservoir, and so the smelling brings back a lot of fond memories.

Vaari - hot sand. It's another nostalgic smell that reminds her of home. There's something about the dusty, mineral smell that she hasn't found anywhere else, and so whenever she gets a whiff of it it sends her back to the warmth of childhood. She also loves Leah's perfume, which smells like cedar and hickory shells.

Weird Dog™ - homemade cookies

☔ - How does this oc feel about rain?

Herod - He's not a fan. If asked directly, it's because rain - at best - is an inconvenience. At worst, intermittent flooding is a dangerous in the mountains and could undermine the structural integrity of both Shadow Hamlet and the Temple. What he'll never admit is that it goes deeper than that. Water was associated with punishment growing up and now, unless it's an environment he can control entirely, he hates the sensation of being wet.

Leah - she loves it. Shadow Hamlet is landlocked and pretty far from any permanent body of water, so rain is the only time she really gets that wet-stone nostalgia I talked about above. She loves sitting outside during a rainstorm and watch the dark clouds roll over Akkala below.

Vaari - mixed feelings. She's been traveling for a while now, but she's still Gerudo, and there's something unsettling about that much water coming from every direction. Still, as long as she's not actually in the rain when it hits, she likes it. She'll happily sit by the window, covered in blankets, and watch the rain come down, but she does not want to be out there. She'll leave that to Leah

Weird Dog™ - not a fan. It's water resistant but NOT waterproof (so thank goodness the Yiga live in the desert)

🌲 - Do they have a favorite location to hang out in?

Herod - he really likes visiting the hot-springs that are scattered around Death Mountain. He's cold almost all the time (poor Astor got his dad's shitty circulation) so the hot springs offer a nice reprieve. He spent a lot of time there when he was younger, when he was on diplomatic trips away from the Hamlet (and his mother). Since he took on the mantle of Augur (political and spiritual leader of the Ganon cult) he hasn't had many chances.

Leah - the home she makes with Vaari. It's a small, quiet place built in a half-hidden valley in death mountain, and it's just theirs. She loves the safety and isolation, as if no one else in the world could find them here, and the floor is always warm, as if a sunbeam were shining on it. The windows glitter with sun-catchers Vaari made or traded for, and they send rainbows dancing across the room when the sun starts to set.

Vaari - on a clear day, Vaari loves to scale the side of Death Mountain to see just how high she can climb. There's a ledge, just deep enough to lay down in, that she always rests at, and on a clear day she's able to see almost to the Gerudo Highlands. She loves to sit and take in the world from this bird's eye view. It reminds her of her days as a wandering vai. Maybe one day she'll show Leah, although her wife isn't very comfortable with heights . . .

Weird Dog™ - anywhere it shouldn't be. Also, on an altar surrounded by potential victims worshipers

[presdestigatto]

the contrast between lance/seb’s and sebchal’s social media pr videos always gets me because charles is constantly looking at sebastian like he’s the second coming of christ, meanwhile lance has the biggest “peacefully minding my own business” aura i’ve ever seen

[candycryptids]

👿- What's their worst trait?

eheheh >:) for whoever you feel it would be the most fun to answer!!

Firstly thank you for da ask ;w;!!! This was spicy because I’m actually going to talk about my husbands guy a little bit… and show y’all post ShB-semi-into-EW Ishi eheheehee- tho there’s a very very mild ShB spoiler so watch out!

“I appreciate you taking time out of your day to speak with me, and answering all the questions I’ve had concerning your journey and how you’ve felt through it all… Your insight into the first and your extensive knowledge of Feo Ul was quite interesting.”

“Mmhm, it’s been surreal recounting everything that happened, but at least SOMEBODY’s writing it down now.. And Their Majesty has made wielding scholastic magic much easier, since I can’t summon my own faerie normally. Are you sure you don’t want a cookie? They’re Kizuna’s da’s recipe, you know.”

“Ah, speaking of Kizuna… You two have started dating right? The two shining beacons of heroism and do-gooding-recklessly, surely you know better than anyone else what he’s like. We all know his good side, but what about the bad?”

“Eh???? EHHHH?? Where’d you get that idea?! D-dating… uhm… you’re not going to write that in your book right? That’s- that’s just speculation! Besides we’re not really public yet, Uhm, h-he’s really great, I can’t think of a bad trait, really, he can cook, he’s wicked with all kinds of weapons, he’s strong, and, handsome, he’s gentle with kids, and animals… He’s always trying his best, you know? Uh-uhm… he built his own house, in Ishgard-“

“I already know all about that, Ishi, I actually stopped by there last week to see if he was there. Besides. every Hero needs their tragic flaw, or they risk becoming as untouchable Gods in the mind of the people. So, give me something to work with, it doesn’t have to be grand, just, something that grounds him back in the common man.”

“But Kizuna’s not a common man- ah… ff..fine, ok, sometimes, uhm, I think… I worry, he makes himself miss out on fun stuff, because he’s worried more about keeping everyone and everything safe. Someone somewhere falls into peril and it’s, his problem now. I can usually make him slow down, but sometimes we both end up really swept up in it… uhm… I don’t know. Oh… my cookie……”

“… I think I can work with that…”

Kizuna belongs to @zombiesockfuckinglovescardfight •v• (and if he wants to add something to this he can! >:3)

[Duo’s OC Ask Game]

[violentlydefending]

KEEP LIVING, ICHI............

[gingerbreadmonsters]

Something strange / who are you gonna call? >:3 💖

ej's talking about this ask game (still open!) <3

EJ!! thank u for the ask <3 this was SUPPOSED to be done in time for halloween but i have been dying of university disease so it will probably happen in a little while hehe

Three out of the four were accidental - one was the result of a fall, one was the aforementioned issue with the roof, and I believe the other was due to an electrical fault. The fourth was the most recent - an altercation with an intruder during a break-in - but we’ve been assured by the local police department that this sort of thing is highly unusual for the area, and is very unlikely to happen again.  As she spoke, you’d felt a horrible feeling of resignation settle in your stomach. Of course the one place you can actually afford to buy is the one where tenants keep dying. 

How old were they, would you say? Some more clicking, and if her expression had been anything to go by, a spreadsheet that was loading a lot slower than it should. It looks like… um, it looks like most were in their mid-twenties, or thereabouts. Perfect. Of course they were. Were they living alone? She’d clearly been dreading the question, gritted teeth forced into a smile. I believe so, yes. The implied like you will be hangs between you, unspoken. The property has been vacant for about a year, but it’s nothing to do with that - it’s just come back to us from a private company who didn’t keep a tenant there, but I’m assured that everything’s been checked and it’s all in good shape. Well, then. Go and live alone in the terrifying empty house in Dahlia that’s been abandoned for a year, which nobody else wants and where all of the last four tenants died, or rent a safe (if eye-wateringly expensive) shoebox on the other side of the city. What choice could be clearer?

[paeinovis]

I am constantly impressed with SpongeBob (show) for being able to make iconic lines and gags that don't feel overplayed even if they're repeated

[luxaofhesperides]

what if i posted dcxdp parody fic.... what then.....

[eldritch-nightmare]

the current like... 'schedule' of sorts that i have going on is doing one matchup every other day and working on my other requests in the meantime. i'm still not entirely sure how often i should post in one day because i don't want to post too much or too little so i'm thinking i might settle on two posts per-day while my motivation is strong and then simmer down to at least one a day in the coming weeks.

[izzy-b-hands]

...i have one of Jack Jr modern AU fics almost set to publish. Literally just need the title and then to preview (bc the spacing is Always Fucked Up the first time lmao) That said, I am. Paranoid that I'm not tagging enough/correctly/should have the rating set higher has set in, and I am putting out a call (v okay if not interested tho!) to anyone willing to give this fic a read to help me make sure I've not fucked that up?

Per Ellipsus it comes it at about 22 minutes to read, so not too horrendously long for a one shot (my definition of a one shot at least, I know it isn't proper fandom one shot length lol)