#cheese grave keeper

[seraphscrypt]

No text version under cut

[dream-trickery]

These make me laugh and I’m going to keep making silly stuff 💕

[sheepyzzz]

current WIP

Andrew my beloved ／(≧ x ≦)＼

[idvotd]

The Identity V design of the day is:

Grave Keeper: Cheese (A-Tier)!

"A piece of soft and peculiar cheese, nothing more. Despite it being the first dish coming out of the oven, its sense of inferiority diminishes its courage to escape from utopia."

[harlequinn-fox]

More bunny Andy 🐰

[catucchi]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY ANDREW KREISS !!! 🍰🧀

[florencemtrash]

The Graveyard Shift: Chapter VIII

Simon Riley x f!Reader

Summary: Simon Riley is a lonely grave keeper in Victorian England who puts a marriage proposal ad in the London newspaper. He's ready to make his house a home, but can he convince his new wife that he can be her safe space, or will the secret she carries threaten their newfound happiness?

Warnings: abusive marriages (not Simon), allusions to SA (not explicit)

If you'd like to be added to the taglist, please leave a comment on the masterlist! This just helps me stay organized so I don't miss any requests. Thank you :)

The Graveyard Shift Masterlist

Masterlist of Masterlists

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Y/n’s ears grew keen as a fox’s. Now she could hear Simon in every room, trace his barely-there-footsteps in the kitchen while she brushed her hair at the vanity, or catch the swish of his clothes as they rubbed against his coat. 

Maybe it was simply that Simon was becoming noisier around her. Y/n was certainly making her presence known in the house. 

Y/n dropped a pan on the fire, digging at the coals with a poker so they tumbled and hissed. Her husband — her ex-husband (she needed to remind herself of that) — had hated hearing the crackling of logs in the fire pit, even in the winter when warmth was a necessity he seemed to be able to go without. 

But Simon loved to hear her around the house. Every hum, sigh, and curse when she poked herself with a needle or picked up a plate that was too hot. Every opening door and crunch of dirt as she planted onions in the backyard. 

She was out there now, kneeling in the soil with her straw hat slipping back from her head and digging around with her spade. Something stirred within him as a slip of her calf appeared then disappeared just as quickly as she straightened herself. She wiped at her brow, pulling back the strands of hair that clung to her neck with dampness and he felt his breath hitch. 

They’d taken to holding each other at night — no more awkward clinging to their respective edges of the bed like they were diseased. But they’d gone no further than that. No further than waking up with Y/n’s body tracing the curve of his side, arm draped over his stomach and her breath dipping into the slant of his neck. It overwhelmed him just to think of that touch. How one day she might want more. 

Y/n tossed her tools to the ground and stripped off her gloves. Riley, content to stretch in a sun-dappled patch of grass stood with her, stretching with a yawn before shaking his head and leading her indoors. 

“The planting’s done,” she announced with a smile. It was her great accomplishment of the day. 

Simon reached out to undo the ribbon of her hat before plucking it off her head and onto the nail in the door. A chaste kiss to her cheek sent the warmth roaring to her face. She was no better than a tea kettle. 

Hesitantly she leaned closer to him, smelling wood smoke and graveyard dirt clinging to his clothes. Her fingers brushed against the inside of his wrist, glancing off his rugged palm with a whisper of touch. Simon was better at this than she was, holding still as she pressed her lips to his cheek in return with nothing but the faintest intake of breath. His hand found her waist, rubbing comforting circles into her hip bone. 

They moved as one in the kitchen, some phantom thread holding them close, but not too close as they prepared for a simple lunch of bread and cheese. They ate comfortably while discussing the household’s maintenance — what would need to be bought from town that week, the state of their reserves, the success of Y/n’s jam making, and the graves that were to be dug. 

This was a topic that had once unnerved Y/n — death and all that involved in the process. But now talk of it held a sacred, albeit normal, place at their table. 

“Father Hughes caught me this morning. Said I should prepare two graves this afternoon.” 

“Where?” Y/n asked, sipping her tea. 

Simon paused, ripping a loaf cleanly in half and placing a chunk on her plate. “The potter’s field.” His eyes darkened and they both let the words sink into their small home. A somberness colored the mealtime. 

Though it was a small graveyard Simon cared for, there were still divisions within the land. The best plots and best headstones were placed highest on the hill where the sun could smile down on them and cast shadows over the earth. They were a testament to the wealth that could make their resting place so comfortable. The poorest were buried closest to the woods where shadows loomed close and weeds felt they had more claim to the ground. 

The first week she’d moved into this house she’d shivered hearing the cart come up the road with a plain coffin jostling in the back, then stared in awe as Simon took the body and hoisted it onto his shoulders, carrying it all the way to potter’s field. Though the family could afford no tombstone, Simon had taken a small wooden cross and sank it into the ground as a marker. He cared for those places as much as he cared for anything else, offering himself up as witness to every body buried on his lands. 

“I may be home after dark.” 

“I’ll wait for you, Simon.” He looked up surprised and suddenly overcome as his wife continued, “And I’ll have the bath set.” She spoke the words calmly and plainly. She looked at the hand he rested on the table, dirt trapped beneath fingernails so short they must have hurt, and rough with scars and calluses. She reached out and squeezed once. Twice. A silent communication of respect, if not love. 

After lunch, Simon put on his cap and mask and set off into the field with a shovel in hand. Y/n watched from the front steps as he wound through the graves, grim and forbidding and yet… soft. Protective. 

His fingertips grazed the tops of tombstones, plucking and scratching off moss that grew in vibrant tufts. Blonde hair peaked out from beneath his cap, catching the light like a halo around his dark figure. Black coat, rugged and raw, blowing around his legs. He hummed faintly. It was a song that Y/n liked to sing around the house. 

She went inside and waited as the sun dipped lower in the sky. Soon she heard the roiling of wheels and the jostling of the old wooden cart up the hill. A man by the name of Mr. Price sat at the helm with his chestnut brown horse. After a friendly exchange of words Simon pulled open the back of the cart and stopped. Only the strip of skin around his eyes were visible, especially from a distance, but Y/n read every sign of anger and disbelief written on her husband’s face as he pulled the first coffin out. He went out into the fields, just out of view, and came back empty handed. 

The second coffin was much smaller. 

Much, much smaller. 

Simon stared at the coffin he cradled in his arms before reaching out with one gentle finger to caress the face of the coffin. Y/n saw his mouth move beneath the mask, whispering kind, sympathetic words before he walked off and disappeared once more. 

Dusk covered the earth, stretching the shadows that creeped out over the hill like long fingers. Y/n kept dinner on the stove and pulled the large wash basin before the fire. She struggled to take the cauldron off the heat, shuffling to the basin and tipping the boiling water. She repeated it once more, allowing the water to stay as warm as possible by the stoked flames. She pushed back her hair, hearing Simon’s near silent footsteps near the door. 

He slipped inside wordlessly and stood with his back to the room, pressing his forehead against the door and turning the lock. 

“Simon?” He froze. He was so used to his own loneliness that for a moment he’d forgotten he had a wife waiting at home. A wife who had been keeping his dinner and bath warm. Y/n waited for her husband to turn. To move. To acknowledge her in any way, but he never did. Months ago this would have terrified her, and to her dismay it was still one of her first reactions to his silence. But then she moved. 

She tugged off his coat and cap before pressing herself into his back, wrapping her arms around his waist, and letting the curve of her cheek feel every rough stretch of scar tissue hiding beneath his shirt. 

She held him until time was irrelevant. Until Simon let loose a sigh that could have folded the earth in two and turned. She wiped the grime from his cheeks, tugging down his mask to reveal his freckled cheeks. His scarred lip in its perpetual frown. His strong, crooked nose. 

“There’s my Simon,” she murmured without thinking. She traced the line his mask had left on his face, brushed over the corner of his lip. Simon closed his eyes with a flutter of pale, white lashes, and melted into her hand. 

Her fingers trickled down to his chest, reverent as rainfall, and quietly began unbuttoning his shirt and trousers. His clothes fell with a whisper and he let himself be led to the basin. She tipped his head back into the warm water, combing her fingers into his close cropped hair until he was sighing and holding onto her waist, steady and strong. 

The day’s events were washed off. The dirt and sweat scraped off his skin. The tension loosened from his back as Y/n dared to explore the expanse of his skin. They’d seen each other naked before. First in blushing glimpses as they’d quickly changed in the same room, then in comfortable, almost routine fondness as they grew in their time together. A button done or undone here and there. A ribbon tightened. A coat pulled on and off with help. 

He pulled on fresh clothes as dinner was laid to the table, dropping into the chair with a barely audible groan of exhaustion. They ate in silence. Prepared for bed in silence. 

Y/n shifted closer to him in the candlelight, finding the shape of his body like it was a mold and she was wax. He smelled like nature, rough and wild and green, and soap, crisp and clean. Beneath his shirt she traced every dip and valley of his skin, feeling his breath come and go with her gentle movements. 

“My mother was buried in a pauper’s grave,” Y/n murmured softly. Simon’s hold on her tightened. “It was difficult to learn of it at the time, but… I know I would have rested easier if a man like you had been the one to care for her at the very end.” 

She felt his fingers comb through her hair and the press of his lips at the crown of her head. It was Simon’s way of saying he’d heard her and appreciated all that she’d said and left unsaid.

They fell asleep in silence, and when Simon woke the next day and prepared to go out into the fields once more, Y/n went with him and together they laid flowers on the two newly turned graves.

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Taglist: @marigold-morelli @camcvpidd @slightlypossessed @pistachioslife @imarotternotawriter @enfppuff @squishytap @taxidermypossum @sawendel @nicolebarnes @other-fandoms-reblogs @blush-haze @just-lost-inbetween-worlds @blumenkorba @little-mini-me-world

[aeon-borealis]

Captivated (2010 Version Remaster) Ch. 3

Chapter 3: Cut me a Deal

In English class, we’re doing a stupid partner project and much to my misfortune, I’m stuck with Owen the walking trash compactor. Earlier this week during lunch, one of my lovely lady friends pointed at Owen in sheer horror. I witnessed him polishing off three different lunch trays loaded with rubbery meat loaf, plastic mac and cheese, green beans that were more swamp matter than vegetable, and a 2 liter soda.

Honestly, his ability to pack it away is impressive. Competitive eating isn’t my scene and I can’t watch for more than a few seconds before the urge to throw up, but I digress. The nightmarish element was how indiscriminate he is about his food choices. The lunches here are inedible. I wake up an hour early every day to prep my own food to avoid the toxic waste fillings.

That’s the closest I have to a compliment about him. Otherwise, everything about him absolutely irritates me. He’s so cheerful it feels like he’s a living cartoon character, he’s oblivious and ignorant, and he honestly believes everybody is his friend. I was being nice and polite, you buffoon. It doesn’t automatically translate to something more unless you’re an attractive lady, a fellow football fan (the real football), or someone I genuinely admire.

“Heya, Al!” Owen trumpeted at me, waggling his hand in hopes of getting a high five.

I absolutely hate getting called ‘Al.’ Owen’s justification is that Alejandro is too hard to pronounce and he gives everybody some dumb, cute nickname. I asked him to call me Alejandro anyway but he steamrolls my request or chooses that moment to be a selective listener.

“Hello Owen,” I said with a customer service smile. I gave him a limp high five and he gleefully pushed our desks together while wearing his own annoyingly bright grin.

“I heard there was a cat fight over you in the cafeteria…” He wiggled his eyebrows at me. “Nice going, Al. You’re quite the ladies’ man, huh?”

“You could say that…” I tried to discreetly scoot as far as I could from him in my chair.

“So, you know some things about girls.” He leans closer and pushes his index fingers together. “Could you give me some advice?”

His breath is a mix of a whole garlic clove and a fish tank that desperately needs cleaned. While I don’t want to be rude, my eyes are watering and the scent is clogging my nose. I gasp and clap my hands over my mouth while dense Owen only leans in that much closer.

“She’s the most beautiful girl in the world!” He sighed as his eyes sparkled and his entire demeanor screamed lovesick puppy. “She has long red hair and...and….she’s so amazing. So amazing. I know she likes me since we made out in the back of my dad’s truck a couple times last summer. But I don’t know if that was just a one time thing….”

My eye twitches a few times as I physically stand up. I’ll cut class and eat the bad grade if it means one less second near a scent that’d horrify a grave keeper.

“I really want to ask her out.” Owen just keeps talking. “I don’t know if it’s too late. I’m scared.”

I groan and pinch my forehead. The pleasantries end here.

“Brush your teeth!” I growled. “Maybe use some mouth wash? Grab some cologne…”

“Okay…” Owen nodded a few times and stared at me expectantly.

“Okay.” I threw my hands up in surrender and met his gaze. “Test the waters. Flirt with her and see if she’s still receptive. Find out what she likes to do besides...making out in your dad’s truck. Start with a get to know you coffee date, and if that goes well-”

“Slow down, please!” Owen smiles at me. “I wanna write all this down!”

****

It’s a day after the cafeteria incident. Heather absolutely refuses to look my way and directs her full attention to the bedazzled phone under her desk. Elegant pink and velvet red nails dance across the buttons. Her other hand squeezes the wooden bars on the back of her desk chair, tightening and loosening like the loops of a boa constrictor.

The masochistic part of my brain imagines a pocket-sized version of me in that hand getting abused like a stress ball. No, she’d be smushing and stretching me like silly putty. Is it weird that I honestly find either one of those possibilities appealing?

“You have a quiz over the Spanish subjunctive tomorrow!” Mr. Smithfield announced with a dramatic finger wag as he reached for the chalk. Everything else he said quickly drowned out and became background noise.

Heather’s fingers continue dancing, her shoulders bob, and she lets out a few really frustrated grunts and breaths. I split my attention between looking at her softly swaying hair and idle doodling on a loose piece of notebook paper. If I stare at her too much, I’ll get caught.

Eventually, I stop studying her and move my attention to drawing cartoony caricatures of her instead. They’re rough and quick. I try to portray her catty smirks, smug little smiles, and add an unrelated one where she has a pair of cat ears. It’s cute enough I think I’ll keep it tucked in between my actual notes from more difficult classes.

“Alejandro…?” There’s a light tap on my desk. When I look up, Mr. Smithfield gives me a frustrated stare over the tip of his bulbous nose. “Could you stay after class a minute?”

Another quick look around the classroom and all of the other students were collecting books, talking to each other, and walking out. Curious, I sneaked a glance at Heather’s desk. She was still here, legs crossed and arms folded, scowling. The death glare she gave our teacher was heated enough it should have fried a hole in the side of his bald head.

“You’re familiar with Heather, right?” Mr. Smithfield gestured at her.

“We’re...acquainted,” Heather spoke up through gritted teeth.

“Excellent.” Smithfield clapped his hands and gave both of us a very forced smile. “So, have you ever tutored another student before, Alejandro?”

“Excuse me! If you’re that worried about my grades, why don’t you tutor me? That’s what study hall is for…” Heather said with a deepening frown.

“I have three other classes and mountains of papers to grade,” the teacher replied in a very tense, about to break tone. “I don’t have time. And I’ve asked my students to step in and tutor their classmates before. Most of them don’t mind and it’s been pretty successful in the past!”

“I absolutely refuse to work with him,” she said snottily, tilting her little pixie nose up in the air. There’s no way she doesn’t know how irresistibly adorable she is. No wonder she was Justin’s first choice out of his hordes of lovesick idiots.

“My go-to tutors are busy with school play prep!” Smithfield complained. “And you seemed pretty chummy with Alejandro. Are you two fighting or something?”

“That’s none of your business,” Heather growled.

“We can call a truce…” I winked at her.

That led to her shooting a death glare at me. Instead of her intended result, my heart soared and I covered my mouth to stifle a giggle.

“Heather…” Smithfield sighed heavily and turned towards her. “If you don’t get your grades up, you know you won’t be able to try out for the dance team. I’m trying to give you a last Hail Mary here, kid…”

I filed that comment away for later. That little tidbit was enough to break Heather’s angry mask. She looked vulnerable for a moment. Her dark eyes shifted as she mulled something over. Tentatively, she locked eyes with me and it was a bit unnerving. Despite how much I’ve enjoyed winding her up, I tried to keep a neutral expression.

After a moment, she blinked and shook her head, dragging fingers through her hair.

“There’s got to be another way…” she muttered.

“I...have study guides.” Smithfield shrugged helplessly. “You can try a YouTube tutorial? That might help if you’re a more visual learner.”

“Whatever…” She stood up, fists shaking, and stomped out of the classroom.

Once she was gone, Smithfield turned towards me with a very quick, awkward “I’m sorry” and immediately scurried back to his desk. He picked up and started clicking a pen, making a big show out of how busy, busy, busy he was now.

I scurried out of the classroom, hoping to catch Heather. Surprisingly, she’s only a few feet from the classroom door, hunkered against the wall and buried in something on her phone. Most of the other kids are in their next classes or slipping off campus early. The hallway is eerily deserted. When Heather grunts or curses, the sound echoes slightly.

“Heather…?” I take one tentative step towards her.

She jumps a little and snaps to attention like she was just electrocuted. Wide eyes and shock quickly fade to narrowed lids and an annoyed frown. “What the fuck do you want?”

“I was serious about calling a truce,” I said in a gentle voice. “Mr. Smithfield is a...very subpar teacher. I’m a native Spanish speaker and I’m confident that my command of the Spanish language is above and beyond anything he could do. Even if he was competent.”

“Of course he sucks!” Heather sighed. “He’s a substitute teacher. He was only supposed to fill in 1-2 weeks tops, but we’re stuck with his ugly, stupid ass the rest of the year.”

“Damn….”

“Ms. Diaz was supposed to come back from maternity leave…” Heather grumbled as she pinched the bridge of her nose. Disappointment briefly flashed across her face before she looked back up at me with a tight frown. “You probably see this as your in, right? I’m failing one of my classes and you’d swoop in as this knight in shining armor or some shit. Not happening.”

She’s not entirely wrong.

“Besides, I’m taken.” She snarled at me. “I heard what you pulled with Bridgette. You’re on the fast track to everyone’s shit list if you mess with the most popular couple in school…”

“I thought that was you and Justin?” I raised my eyebrows.

“No.” She shook her head and gave me this really condescending smirk. “Those two have been Homecoming King and Queen for my class every year. Everybody loves them. They’re friends with pretty much everyone in school.”

“Hmm…” I tapped my chin. “Alright. If this will put you at ease, I’ll leave Bridgette and Beth alone.”

“I really don’t care what you do with Bridgette.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m saying you won’t find any success pulling that with me. I’m not falling for cheesy lines, roses, or other pointless romantic bullshit.”

“Is there anything I could do to tempt you?” I couldn’t resist shooting her an ornery grin.

“Again, happily taken.” She folded her arms. “So, you’re a native speaker?”

“Born in Peru, spent a year in Argentina, raised in Spain.” I put on my most confident smile as I tried to land my sales pitch. “I could teach you basic Spanish as well as give you a crash course in any slang, lingo, or differences between dialects you’d like.”

“Hmm….” She furrowed her brows. “I think we could hammer something out, Casanova. If you teach me, then I can get you a spot at the table.”

“Wasn’t Justin going to do that anyway?” I asked.

“No.” She snorts. “I know you’re gunning for the table. I might as well let you in on my terms and keep an eye on you.”

“Isn’t that counterintuitive?”

“If I’m the one vouching for you, then it’d be in your best interests to stay on my good side.” She looked at me through lowered lashes. “I’ll stop underestimating you if you stop underestimating me.”

My heart shot to the stratosphere as I tried to keep my cool. I managed to match her businesslike grin with my own.

“Deal.” I extended my hand. “Meet me in the library after school?”

“I’ll be there,” she said with a short nod.

She didn’t shake my hand. She patted my shoulder as she breezed past me and continued down the hall with a prideful strut and raised shoulders.

Chapter 2:

Chapter 4: In-progress

[chaostroid]

please idv all i want is another grave keeper a tier

please

train conductor and cheese are great but i need more #greedy

[verishere]

4, 7 and 21 for Liam and Freya?

(Color you associate w them, favorite or least favorite food and secret they'll take to their grave)

Voice to text and then manual one handed editing lets see how long this takes

Ok color is going to be a tough one to fully explain because colors are a Thing in my world that I haven't fully expanded on and defo have not posted to Tumblr yet. Very very basic version, everyone has colors. Two (sometimes four) colors and the combination of colors you have is uniquely associated with you. Sometimes it's just a shade difference so two people might look very similar, but only identical twins actually have exact matching colors.

That being said, Liam and Freya both share the color red as part of their own unique palettes, so their wings have red, their eyes have red, and their weapons (which I have completely revamped since I made my post about magical weapons) have red. Freya wears red a LOT, too.

So red for those two

Favorite food for both (I haven't made dishes that would exist in world [aside from dragon meat but that's not ethical and both would revolt if handed it] so fuck it pretend we have all real life foods on the table [also limiting myself to things I have eaten])

Liam's would be Chicken tikka masala (and he's fucking right)

Freya's would be tacos because likes the variety you can get with them and is far simpler than Liam

Their least favorites:

Liam's would be pork of any kind. He does not enjoy it and calls it bland, greasy, and with a horrible consistency.

Freya's is cheese. Of any kind. Aside from her just genuinely hating the taste and texture of any she's tried, she was one of the four who invented biology (not discovered it, she *invented* life) so she knows every step in the process it would take to get milk and unlike some of her siblings it disgusts her.

Secret they'll take to their grave:

The way they got together romantically. They'd been friends for decades by this point, though by this point both had the others weapon emblem (remember when I said I revamped how magical weapons work? That's what it is now instead of just having the others weapon) and both didn't realize the other did. Liam was from the future, he knew that Freya and the keeper of the sun were going to be partnered, which is actually why she chose whoever the keeper is to be the keeper, sohe knew he had no chance, and Freya has been trying to subtly tell him (the culture about romantic acts at that point in time had been really dumb so it was extremely subtle and focused around thoughtful gift giving instead of saying "i like you" [which is the fault of Liam's ancestors but we dont have time to get into that]) and hinting while he just grows increasingly confused for why the fuck shes flirting with him when he KNOWS she gets with the keeper.

She is making tapestries, songs, and even attempted forgework for weeks while he grows more and more dumbfounded. She is literally living with him and travelling with him and hugging him instead of whoever the keeper of the sun was going to be. Eventually he goes "fuck it, I have her emblem anyways and I have no idea how thisl turn out since my knowledge from the future says this is not right, but I don't think she's gonna stop till I answer her" so he starts making things for her. Makes a song or two, lots of jewelry, a failure of a tapestry to respond to her failure at forgework, and started leaning into those hugs instead of going stiff, etc etc. Eventually they both came clean, both of them showing they held the others emblem... And she announces that she's been waiting for his answer before she reveals she chose him to be the keeper of the sun.

Nowadays, both of them consider the entire thing the height of stupidity. They actually followed the really stupid culture at the time which led to confusion, Liam didn't realize that nothing prophetically stopped him from being both the Watcher and the Keeper, Freya didn't eventually break the cultural rules at the time and tell him straight or just give up when he seemed disinterested, Liam didn't just ask her what she was doing, Freya made the forgework, etc. They tell everyone that they did follow the stupid culture at the time of subtle gifting, but neither missed a signal and within only two weeks they had come clean and were actually together without anything stupid in the meantime. The forge attempt is unspoken, conveniently no one has asked why Liam who they knew knew Freya would get with the keeper would actually return the attention to Freya without hesitation (they know he's the watcher, and as the watcher he really SHOULD have known he coulda been the keeper at the same time, so they just assume he did) and more.

There is also an embarrassing story for them both individually, the Freya one I've already talked about in her own post (high heels story), but Liams I havent.

Liam is transmasc. His grandmother (Luonim Lililnu, so on his father's side of the family) was transfem. He heard the story of how her body changed at some point when he was a kid and he knew his sibling was born with a fairly different form but changed to become kinda not either way, so he just kinda assumes that just. Happens. Like everyone's body changes eventually by default.

He learned that no, that was actually the exception, when he asked his family as a little 7 year old equivalent "when does your body start changing". It took 5 minutes of explanation to realize he had not in fact discovered the idea of puberty but instead was just your typical impatient trans kid.

That story for Liam is not actually something that is kept to the grave, and he wouldn't even if he had the ability to stop everyone else from talking about it, but I just thought it was too funny not to share.

[trafficyuri-polycule]

Something was wrong. Whilst Gem couldn’t place it, she knew something was off. 

One minute she was walking near the Secret Keeper, and the next, she was stumbling along. Almost as though she had been shoved, or someone slammed into her from behind. 

She had been walking with Scott, which in itself was an oddity. He wasn’t acting like himself. There was no confidence, only a shaken look on his face, after he had shown up after the explosion.

Wait, she wasn’t near an explosion when she stumbled. She stumbled as it happened. Which is normal, but Gem wasn’t near ground zero.

Gem was falling in the void, looking at Scott. 

Hold on. Gem stopped still. She never fell into the void. The void just became a part of her. Scott wouldn’t shove her into the void, he’d keep her away from it. They were a team. 

He didn’t help me. He watched me fall, and then he left.

Before Gem could sort her thoughts out, Joel ran in screaming. 

Lizzie was dead. 

That can’t be possible. Lizzie? Dead? No, that’s not right. I’m still here. Joel, I’m here! I’m not gone yet! 

There was cheer all around Gem, she didn’t know what else to do but join in. This was her first game. This is my second game. 

She’d ask the Scott’s about it later. And maybe build a better grave for Lizzie. The two of them were close, and she didn’t deserve a grave with no care put into it. What do you mean? Why do I have a grave? I’m still here!

(1/2) 🧀 I need to further expand on Gem getting used to Lizzie in her head, but I don’t have it yet. Sorry!

cheese anon i am loving this so muchhhh. I feel like once they get it under control and understand more they'll be able to work together more

[seraphscrypt]

[im2tired4usernames]

GoooooOOOOOOoooOOooOooddddd day and evenening and everything to you!!! ;-D

1, 4, 6, 8, 13, 15, 16, 22, 23, 25, 29, 35, 39, 53, 55, 73, 74, 77, 79, 84, 90 and 98?

P.S.: Sorry for your current struggle!

P.P.S.: I hope my questions about the ghosts did not make you more uncomfortable!

P.P.P.S.: I hope these are not too many questions for you but I figured since you asked for distractions, more would be merrier. :-)

Goooooooooooooooooooooood times to you too!

Most favorite activity?

i really enjoy drawing i love makin up characters n stories also!

4.Kind of meal you really appreciate?

honest to goodness i appreciate almost anything someone feeds me especially if its home-cooked but i really do love breakfast foods potatoes n cheese best.

6. Do you have any idols?

im not sure what counts as an idol? i once got told that my favorite book series when i was 12 was an idol?

8. Favorite music genre?

i like speed metal

13. A job you can't do yourself but admire people who do?

oh there is a LOT dentists, plumbers, trash collectors, house keepers, teachers, pharmacists there are some very skilled and wonderful people who do a lot for our community

15.Do you believe in ghosts? and 16 If so, how do you imagine them? If not, is it just because you don't want to make contact with them?

i love the idea of ghosts i like the idea of there being some kind of after life so that i can be with the people I've lost again and so i can watch after and not be far from the people i love who are living.

I like to think ghosts just are here waiting and watching able to go where ever they'd like because they don't need to breath or worry about catching on fire or something to just enjoy the afterlife with their friends n family, explore, learn from mistakes they made in life, fix relationships (also i want to go to the bottom of the ocean so bad)

but i don't really believe in them, i want them to be real but i cant help but feel like if ghosts are real then why are there so many crimes against the dead unsolved and why is there no justice for millions of people? I feel like my passed family would find ways to yell at me from the grave for my many flaws and sins (p.s.dont worry friend thank you for caring)

22. Movie you can't stop cheering up for?

alright friend ima introduce you to my most favorite movie it's called Journey to Beginning of Time by Karel Zeman my grandad had the VHS and i have LOVED it since i was three years old. I used to set up a blanket on the floor some chairs and a blanket on top to make a roof, staple some paper together to make "my diary" wear a goofy hat and pretend i was in the movie with the boys goin on they're adventure Its about a four boys who get on a boat and go back in time they each have their own personalities and adventures all of em but one of them have goofy hats! one of them wants to be a scientist so he documents all their findings in a diary theres a lot of great prehistoric critters someone almost gets eaten by a terror bird, someone fights a scary lizard thing i dont remember what it was supposed to be some kind of froggy newt thing it scared me depending on whether you watch the original czech version or the shitty English dub (my grandad had both my grandma grew up with the orignal so she likes that one better) you'll either see the big bang or the creation from the bible i grew up with the shitty english dub so i got weird hand creation ending and ima be honest i prefer that version but probs only because thats what i grew up on. I WISH TO GOD i could find it on dvd in the shitty english dub i grew up with SO MUCH i watched that VHS so much it died im pretty certain i had a crush on the youngest boy played by Vladimir Bejval his character caught a fish.. its a great movie if you get the chance to watch it but it's also like made in like the 50s so uuuuuuh keep that in mind but for the time it was made the special effects were brilliant. it makes me happy its like a warm bowl of soup but in film.

23. Best ingredients for a pizza?

scrambled eggs bacon n sausage or just plan ol pepperoni

25. Can you dance? Is there any dance you want to learn someday?

No not well i know some like old dances from when i was in a few plays like pride n prejudice, id like to learn swing dance

29.Good memory from your childhood you keep remembering?

it was nice having a group of friends and just sitting in our bedrooms drawing, making ocs and stories together and listening to each other gush about the things that made them happy.

35. If you could gain any ability for giving up one, which one would you pay and which one achieve?

uhhhh ability to whistle for the ability to cure all injury and illness (not a fair trade but lemme be reverse Infectious Lass please)

39.What are you mostly in the mood for the whole day?

im always pretty happy to talk to my partner and read books to my siblings ALSO IM ALWAYS A SLUT FOR GOIN FOR A WALK IF ITS PRETTY OUTSIDE

53.Were you a smart kid at school?

nope!

55 .Do you like your hometown?

i love some people here otherwise indifferent?

73.Do you do any sports and if so which ones?

nope i was homeschooled

74.What's your dresscode? What makes you choose the clothes you're wearing? (on different occasions)

i really prefer skirts over dresses spef at knee length and i prefer no sleeves or short sleeves with just a sweater if it gets chilly. i like feelin fancy and cutesy.

77.Can you imagine something pretty romantic you would like your/a partner to do for you?

honest the most romantic thing i think someone can do is just to be there for each other that you want to experience life together even when life is incredibly shitty and not ideal at the moment but sticking through it with them anyhow because you want to experience life with them whem it's good or bad, being there the day their parents die, not ditching them if they lose their job being their cheerleader if they get cancer...just kinda knowin your a team that you've got their back n them your's and that you'll build a life together that makes you both happy through it all idk just bein there n lettin me be there for em in return? but idk im kinda shit at the romance tbh uuuuhhhh i appreciate it when someone sets time aside for me that means a lot to me more then they'll probably ever know

79.Is it risky to ask you whether you are a honest person or not?

not sure if im the right one to judge that but i have been told im "stupidly honest" id like to think im honest but im not sure? i dont trust myself in anything!

84.Are you into candies?

yes i love sour candies and chocolates

90.If you know your go-to person currently has time, do you still text them, call them or leave a voice message?

im not sure im smart enough to understand this question?

98.Do you prefer living in a (big) city or in a (countryside) rural area?

they both have their ups n downs probably country side.

Thank you so very very very much for the asks golly gee it def gave my brain a break from all the big scares thank you so much really honest you have no clue how much this helped calm me down i really really appreciate it so much i hope your weekend is wonderful and i hope the weather is nice and you get to eat something nice and your day is full of lots of small joys!

[sheepyzzz]

New banner!!

Cheese is the best idv skin ever and that’s not up for debate and never will be 🍭🍡🧀

ig tumblr doesn’t like the size of this photo sry for the bad quality 😔

[captain-wereduck]

Larian does play fast and loose with the 5.0 edition, so personally I wouldn't pay much attention to the older rulebooks. Like, they're there, they can be a source for cherry picking, but not exactly canon anymore. Other people seems to have fun with those, so whichever you prefer, I guess?

Tho the shroud theory is kinda neat, only gets wobbly once we sit down and try to figure out how the 7000 spawn even happened - like, according to the books you need to be buried and dig yourself out of your grave to become a vampire.

So either Cazador has a side gig as a grave keeper to keep the dead popping back up as a secret or the entire thing got handwaved. ╮⁠(⁠.⁠ ⁠❛⁠ ⁠ᴗ⁠ ⁠❛⁠.⁠)⁠╭

Back to the sleeping thing - I strongly headcanon that Astarion taught himself to sleep.

It's a way of passing time, especially where there's nothing to do - and being awake, starved and having no ability to entertain yourself would suck a lot.

It also had a bonus in form of not being a reverie, so not cementing memories in his head. There's literally nothing Astarion would want to keep or relive during his stay in Cazadors tender mercies, so the ability to forget random shit would be appreciated.

The only bad thing about sleeping was the fact Astarion couldn't pick which memories would go, so his time pre-undead also got on the chopping block. So he sorta-kinda joined Durge in the swiss-cheese for a brain club.

This all headcanons and the way I write the guy tho.

Do Vampires Sleep?

This question has been bothering me for a while – both for the sake of my headcanons and the stories I imagine for my OC Roanael and Astarion.

On Tumblr, I’ve seen people mention both reverie and sleep when talking about Astarion. And honestly, I think both are fair since we can see in the game that Astarion’s long rest animation shows reverie. At the same time, we know he has dreams – a least one dream in his Origin story, about Cazador, and the ones with the Dream Visitor. But of course, it could be a temporary exception due to the tadpole influence.

What do we know about reverie?

Definition: Reverie, or trance, is the elven state of meditation, which had certain sleep-like effects.

Realm of Adventure Wiki states that:

When elves enter this state, they vividly relive past memories, those both pleasant and painful.

According to Forgotten Realms Wiki, most elves prefer reverie, but they can also choose to sleep.

I’ve also seen a theory that Astarion could prefer sleep to reverie, since it would provide him an escape while the state of trance would only make him relive all the painful and terrifying memories once again. That makes so much sense to me.

But let’s not forget: Astarion is not quite an elf anymore – he’s a vampire spawn.

So what does that mean, in terms of rest?

The first thought that comes to mind is that he is undead, so logically, he shouldn’t need any sleep.

Indeed, vampires and vampire spawns do have a trait called Undead Nature. However, while for most other undead creatures it states they “do not need to eat, drink, or breathe,” for vampires and their spawns it is only “do not need air.”

Undead Nature. Neither a vampire nor a vampire spawn requires air.

(according to the information I found on 5e tools bestiary)

So I think it’s safe to say that the answer is – yes, vampires (and vampire spawns) do sleep.

Then why is Astarion shown trancing in the game?

Well, if you look at his character sheet, it still lists his race as High Elf, even after his true nature is revealed.

I believe from a development standpoint, it was probably easier to keep him categorized that way – otherwise, they'd have to build a whole custom Vampire Spawn race with new animations, just for Astarion. So it could just be a race-based animation quirk.

From the story perspective, it also would make sense for him at least to pretend he enters reverie at night in the beginning of their journey, when Tav/Durge and other companions still don’t know about his vampirism.

Another possibility is that, due to his unusual condition, being protected from some of the vampiric traits, it became possible for him to experience reverie again.

It also aligns with another aspect of vampiric sleep lore that I want to mention:

Chained to the Grave. Every vampire remains bound to its coffin, crypt, or grave site, where it must rest by day. If a vampire didn't receive a formal burial, it must lie beneath a foot of earth at the place of its transition to undeath. A vampire can move its place of burial by transporting its coffin or a significant amount of grave dirt to another location. Some vampires set up multiple resting places this way.

(5e tools bestiary again)

Yes, it mentions “vampires,” but it is written on the page dedicated to vampire spawns. Besides, it wouldn’t make sense that true vampires would be confined like that while their spawns would be able to sleep wherever they wanted.

It means that normally, Astarion would need to sleep in a special resting place. Thanks to the illithid protection, he doesn’t have to do that during their journey.

But if he chooses to reject the ascension ritual, after defeating Netherbrain, he is back to all the vampiric limitations. Not only is he unable to walk under the sun again, cross a river or come into a house uninvited, but he also needs to come up with a way to sleep during his travels as an adventurer (assuming he doesn't stay in Baldur's Gate).

It also makes me wonder about those 7006 vampire spawns that were freed and moved to the Underdark. If my memory doesn't fail me, I think we could see some of Astarion's siblings' coffins when exploring the castle. I don't remember seeing any in the dungeons, but I don't think Cazador would be bothered by this fact – they were already greatly mistreated by him. As I understand the lore, a vampire doesn't die if they don't rest, but it places certain penalties on them.

Did they also have to take care of this when escaping to the Underdark? We can only wonder.

But while it all doesn't make Astarion's undead life easy, that doesn’t mean he’s doomed or miserable. Let us not be too sad about his restrictions, or use this as an argument that his rejecting the ascension ritual was a wrong choice.

I believe that our beloved vampire spawn, radiant with newfound hope, can handle it all just fine. Especially in a magical and chaotic world like Forgotten Realms, where surely there are many creative tricks and curious artifacts that can make a difference.

[starbvrns]

˗ˋ ❖；"Cheese" Grave Keeper icons

— requested by anon ☆