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Nothing to see here. Just Emmrich and his cunty little Isadora Duncan ass making everything about him.

You know he uses Laban notation in his spellbooks. We all know this.

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Pro Tip:

If a spider gets inside your smoke alarm and makes a web near the sensor, your smoke alarm will think it is smoke and wake you up repeatedly starting at 2 in the morning.

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And then what OP?

AND THEN WHAT OP???

"Wake up, Darling"

Emmrich gets knocked out in battle. Regains consciousness to the sound of his mother's voice.

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I love this but I also love the opposite direction. Emmrich is the whitest-coded dude in Thedas. Man is translucent, never leaves the library, wears a waistcoat. Surely he's a "mayonnaise is spicy" truther.

I submit, for your consideration:

Lucanis is setting out his not-very-spicy-for-Taash Rivaini/Antivan fusion cuisine and everyone is taking bets on how long before Emmrich has to start casting heals on himself. Taash is pretty sure he's going to go into fits just sniffing it. Rook has slightly more faith in the man, but that only extends to one bite plus five seconds to really process the trouble he's in.

Little does anyone know, Johanna started lacing Emmrich's food with Rivaini Dave's Ass-Blaster Sauce for the lolz when they were like nine. Plus, as a consolation prize for never leaving home in fifty years of life, Professor Volkarin is a frequent visitor at Nevarra City's various diaspora-neighborhood restaurants. The better joints in Little Par Vollen stopped asking him "Are you sure?" years ago.

One bite. Eyes flick toward Emmrich, pretending not to. Taash has already lost but is still very invested in how this is going to go. "Lucanis, this is wonderful," Emmrich says. "I never would have considered combining melon and turmeric in this way."

Two bites. Rook and Davrin are out. Bellara is complimenting the dish through tears while she spoons yogurt into her bowl. Emmrich has begun to rehash the previous day's battle because that one Rage spirit was behaving somewhat differently than he expected, and he thinks perhaps understanding why might be useful.

Three bites. Once he swallows it Lucanis loses.

Four bites. Harding wasn't paying attention so came into the pool late. She's out and also taking spoonfuls of yogurt.

Everyone is openly staring at Emmrich now. He hasn't noticed. Even Lucanis is a little flushed from the heat, but Emmrich remains pale under the recent tan he's been getting from the novel experience of Going Outside since joining the team. He finishes his bowl and gets a second helping.

After dinner Neve collects her winnings and tells no one that she spotted Emmrich's stash of Rivaini Dave's going into his desk the day he moved in.

new hc: emmrich cannot handle spice. at all. he has an impressive pallate and is a passable cook, but this man has the spice tolerance of a traslucent victorian child. sometimes pepper is too much for him. the first time lucanis makes a spicy meal for taash the spice is by FAR too much for him and he goes red from the collar up and starts sweating immediately

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Black Lotus

Chapter 2: There Are Only Two Beds

Double Fake Married fic coming at ya!

Spoiler: Johanna is living out all her petty dreams

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Last Line Tag

Tagged by the incomparable @holdingontojupiter (PRIEST FIC PRIEST FIC)

As is my wont I have about 8 trillion WIPs languishing (they are SHINY and I am EASILY DISTRACTED). So here's a line from the sugar baby project I'm fucking around with to see if it goes anywhere:

“There you are, Emmrich. You look ancient.” Emmrich smiled at this nearly twenty-year-old greeting. “And I see you haven’t yet learned to manage your facial hair, young Pavus.” In fact Dorian’s prim little beard, an addition to his waxed and curled mustache and just beginning to show some gray at its edges, was quite fetching. Why hadn’t Emmrich married him?

Bat signal to @lullayloo and @hedwigoprah

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PRIEST FIC PRIEST FIC PRIEST FIC

Last Line Tag!

I was tagged by the beautiful @sofiemystique and the gorgeous @scuttlingcrab - thank you my loves!

We are, once more, returning to the land of Father Volkarin. Slowly but surely. Bit by bit. There are plans afoot.

Enjoy a snippet of Lady Ingellvar with her seamstress, Fenella.

I also edited a big chunk in and out earlier so this is the last thing I wrote that I know 100% is staying lmao

"I need it for a lover." This much she could admit; this much was safe. "We are meeting at the parade and I have promised them a guise that will allow us the freedom of the crowd. I am placing my heart in your hands, 'Nella."

Tagging the following lovely people (no pressure, as always) - @aldisobey, @razildor, @caughtnyact, @redheadsramblings, @pseudospaceship, @theshotsheardacrossworlds, @tacoteddy22, @guacamolleee, @thequeenofthewinter and anyone else who sees this and wants to share!

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None of you probably go here but I need to rant for a minute so strap in.

Reading a published paper on roles of women as teachers in ancient Greek religious practices. Good. Yes. What evidence is there for them? Little to none. Also good (methodologically, not endorsing ancient Greek misogyny). The Pythia: Important, but understood as a mouthpiece and not an authority in her own right. Isis worship: female participation, little to no evidence of female leadership. All this is fine.

Let's talk about Dionysus. In the classical period and earlier there's not a lot of evidence for male participation in Bacchic rites. (We're not talking about Orphism here, that's a very different thing, and the author doesn't bring up Roman cult per Livy and the Bacchinalibus, which I think is a mistake but it's his paper.) Euripides plays up the drama like a lot, but he seems to have some knowledge of real Bacchic worship: possession by the god, ecstatic frenzy, use of the title maenad (frenzied one or "maniac").

And then this guy, illustrious author of this paper I'm reading, declares that because worship was ecstatic, the women involved weren't teachers. Quote: "What is clear is that no teaching took place from a priestess. Instead, the activities were of women at the whims of Bacchus leading them along in an orgiastic frenzy."

Dude.

My dude.

Let's leave aside that priests/priestesses in ancient Greece weren't like modern pastors--they performed sacrifices, not teaching. You're telling me that for hundreds of years Athenian women rushed out into the wilderness to worship their god and didn't talk to each other about it? I mean, props for blandly accepting the reality of the possession experience (honestly, this is very refreshing), but I desperately need you to go find a tent revival or a drum circle and hang out with those cats for a few months to see how ecstatic worship works. At least read some Tanya Luhrmann.

Ok, I'm done. Thank you for indulging my frustration.

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Cassandra isn't there because she's behind Leliana sharpening a murder implement.

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Emmrich "darling I'm not really a very good singer" Volkarin also turns out to have a lovely tenor and just, somehow, despite years of studying and teaching anatomy, never learned what his diaphragm was truly for.

i have a headcannon in a modern!au emmrook relationship that there is a very key moment in their early relationship where emmrich picks up rook for a date, and the second rook gets in the car she clocks the low ambience music as gaga (for this hc i picture born this way, but yall pick your gaga as you see fit)

she goes from 50% excited (bc let's be real shes gonna see emmrich shes already excited) to 110%

"you like gaga???" she asks in disbelief as she immediately turns it up to 100

emmrich winces at the volume and turns it back down to a tolerable volume, "dearest, i may be older than you, but i dont live under a rock"

she cups his face and leans in for a kiss, "youre absolutely adorable, and we are absolutely singing this all the way to dinner"

he tries to deflect "darling im not really a very good singer..." but she gives him just the tiniest pout and big eyes and he caves immediately

rook smiles so big, emmrich decides it doesnt really matter if he cant sing as long as she smiles at him like that. she turns the volume back up

they hold hands and belt gaga all the way to dinner

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Last Line tag

At the behest of @heylittleriotact, here's the last line I wrote (well, edited, technically).

(Did I start another AU? What are you, the AU police? Is it a sugar baby fic? Maybe)

She took the opportunity to admire his lanky form in all its nude glory as he strode out of the room singing the high-pitched nonsense that came naturally to anyone within range of a cat.

Tagging @lavenderprose, @marlowethebard, @ollypopwrites

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Black Lotus

Fuck it, we ball

It's not done and I haven't entirely worked out the ending, but I know the shape of it well enough that it's time to start posting for you feral beasties. I give you *drumroll*

The Double Fake Married Fic

White Lotus inspired, angsty and smutty and our queen Johanna Hezenkoss.

****

To the esteemed Professor Emmrich Volkarin, Senior Necromancer of the Mourn Watch, Knight of the Order of Chains, First Enchanter Emeritus of the Nevarra Circle of Mages, Aequitarian Optimarus;

Emmrich sighed and resisted lighting the missive on fire unread. Seeing all of his titles in one place — including the knighthood bestowed upon him in absentia by Dorian Pavus, no doubt to indicate to the young man’s fellow archons in Minrathous precisely the type of gadfly he was going to be — made his skin crawl. None but the first two even meant anything lately. The Aequitarians were all but defunct since the dissolution of the southern Circles, and aside from his teaching duties he had very little time for Nevarra Circle business.

And to your wife, Professor Johanna Hezenkoss-Volkarin, Senior Necromancer of the Mourn Watch, Enchanter of the Nevarra Circle of Mages;

“My what?” Emmrich’s spine, already straight as a matter of habit, found another two inches somewhere within itself. Now he thought he’d better burn the letter. Johanna would do worse than that if she caught sight of that hyphen. She would certainly make it his fault somehow.

You are hereby cordially invited to attend at the celebration of the eightieth birthday of Lord Gwilym Jocelin Cadwalader of Ayesleigh, and at the Wedding of his daughter, Lady Silvina Andrastia Southby-Cadwalader of Ayesleigh, to Lord Miletus Iustus Diocletos Xenander Krater-Pentaghast of Cumberland, to take place in the second and third weeks of Bloomingtide next at Black Lotus Resort, Rialto, Antiva.

Please respond at your earliest convenience.

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Chewing on that jawline

I'm still so unwell for this man.

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help

Ugh, drawing Emmrich is a nightmare — he’s way too gorgeous when he goes full dark mode. Like, how am I supposed to survive that and still hold a pencil?

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Gently bullied by @theyearningghoul into giving you this snippet of Victorian Gothic Emmrook:

She wasn’t supposed to open the door. Strictly, the rule was that she was not to leave her rooms – a bedroom and a magically enhanced bathroom – after she had closed herself in for the night. That was one of two extraordinary rules she had agreed to at the behest of her employer. But she had been hearing noises in the corridor nearly every night since her arrival at Leuchtturm Manor. Footsteps, for the most part, but the occasional low muttering and sometimes, like tonight, a rattling sound as of bones clacking together. The house may very well have been haunted. If it was, Rook knew that the sharp dagger she kept at her side night and day would do her some good, but it would be better to leave the task to Professor Volkarin, who dealt with spirits as a matter of his profession. It was a logical thought, but the professor had cast aside her concerns the two times she’d mentioned them, insisting that there was no haunting. In that case, someone mortal was walking up and down the corridor talking to themself and rattling bones, which seemed to Rook a more concerning problem, not necessarily allayed by the possibility that the mortal was the professor himself. If it was indeed him, he could have some nocturnal habit either unremarkable in the Grand Necropolis or entirely idiomatic but otherwise harmless that he was loath for her to witness. Alternatively, he could be up to some deviancy that those with money seemed to have in pace with the abundance of their incomes, from which Rook herself was safe so long as she remained unaware of it. This split possibility was why she had never ventured before to find the source of the noise. Tonight, however, it was preceded by a distant crash as of someone emptying an entire drawer of silver tableware onto a floor. There was no light in the corridor: no windows to let in the pale silver of the moon and stars, no candle or even veilfire to guide the feet of a late night wanderer. Rook had considered lighting a candle herself, but she feared that her eyes would be drawn to its light and miss what lay beyond it, not to mention that even such a tiny flame would betray her transgression of her contract.

Extending the peer pressure to @crimsen-khalessi, @andthekitchensinkao3, @redheadsramblings, @heylittleriotact, @officialnostradamus

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Reblogging for reach because maybe I need this too?

Outing myself as an old man fucker but I need the Emmrook community’s help in this one. I’ve been looking for this one edit of Emmrich that’s set to Headlock by Imogen Heap

Can’t find it anywhere, pls help

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Nature is one big shitpost.

herpetological guide