#not invader's cookbook

[invaders-cookbook]

Join in!

Happy Pride Month to the Gays of Soulsborne community!

In honour of Pride Month, if any of you are actively playing Elden Ring, join our Group Password to celebrate! Every time one of us becomes Elden Lord or defeats a shardbearer, we will get a small boost in rune gain. We will also have eachother's messages and summon signs highlighted!

The password is, all caps:

PRIDE

Reblog and join the celebration with your fellow Tarnished!

[invaders-cookbook]

Invader's Cookbook #4: Crafting, Consumables, Community Assistance.

Warning: this issue of Invader's Cookbook is only for those who have completed the base game. If you're a new player, using advice from this guide may ruin your natural progression path.

Part 1: Community

As you become better at PvP and it becomes more interesting to you, Elden Ring stops being a PvE game with PvP attached to it, and becomes a PvP game with PvE attached to it. And if you do dueling and invading with any regularity, you will discover that certain resources are way more limited than they should be. Which is fine for a PvE playthrough, but in PvP it becomes a detriment to the variety of the things you can do in any given encounter.

For example, starlight shards is an item that gives you enough Focus Points regeneration that allows sorcery builds to rival melee builds in invasion scenarios. There are only a few dozen of them in the entire game without going to NG+ and they are completely unfarmable.

That is why some players opt to simply duplicate their items via reloading their saves and dropping them to their friends. It is not considered cheating, not by the dedicated PvP community and not by From Software either.

There are a bunch of ways to go about acquiring items.

1. Find a person who plays PvP and who has already acquired all the items

Pretty straightforward. If you don't have such a person, shoot a DM to @huggingtentacles she can usually help.

2. r/PatchesEmporium

Patches Emporium is a community on Reddit where you can place a request for certain items, and if you're willing to fulfill someone else's request, you can successfully gain all the items you need.. Typically they will ask you for a "mule". A mule means transferring their items between characters through your character. You simply pick up the items, and give them back to another character they have. In return they might share some stuff you might want.

3. Join a PvP-focused discord community

You can find plenty of them online, Elden Ring PvP is the most popular one. Plenty of streamers on twitch, big and small, also have similar communities.

Part 2: I got the stuff, what now?

Now you probably have enough crafting materials to craft literally every item in the game in ridiculous amounts. Which is good, you will need them for the following items:

1. Boluses

Boluses to cure status effects are the most important, especially Preserving Boluses that help against Scarlet Rot. Make a bunch of them.

2. Uplifting Aromatics

Finally you can use those perfume bottles for something! Having up to 10 is quite strong. It makes you take 90% less damage on your next hit, as well as gives you a noticeable damage boost. Very important to cross places where you might get ambushed around the corner. You can also use this aromatic to buff mobs in the area!

3. Greases

You can only use greases on weapons with physical affinities: Keen, Heavy, Quality and Standard. Now you are able to replace regular greases with Drawstring Grease, which does significantly more damage, albeit it lasts for a shorter period of time. You can use it quickly mid-combat, highly recommend

4. Everything else

Dried livers, various Pots Cured Meat, Exalted Flesh, Bolts, Arrows, Pickled Turtle Necks, Throwing Daggers, Warming Stones. All of these amazing items are important to use in most PvP activities. Learn to utilise them to their fullest potential.

Part 3: And what about making builds faster?

Through other players you can also acquire weapons and runes. However, you can't acquire weapons that are higher level than the one you have already upgraded on your character. You'll have to upgrade a weapon to a certain level if you want someone to drop you weapons of that level.

A typical fast playthrough to meta level 125-137 would be getting a +10 somber weapon as fast as possible, and then having every other item dropped from another player, then finishing the playthrough with all of that stuff and the appropriate level using the infinite runes you got. (Do you see why I don't recommend this to first time playthroughs? Don't ruin your experience.)

Closing Thoughts

One aspect of Elden Ring PvP that's rarely talked about is how the developers never quite anticipated the amount of PvP some people do. Some items are simply too ridiculous to farm for PvP purposes. Imagine having to farm for half an hour only to waste all of that in one single invasion! Some builds like sorcery simply shoot themselves in the foot by not having vital things like starlight shards.

It's not all bad though. After all, trading items and helping eachother makes for a more meaningful community interaction among players, even if it's purely transactional. In fact, I met many cool players through trading favours like that, and I hope you will as well.

Aren't sure about talking to strangers to get Elden Ring items? Try talking to @huggingtentacles she is always happy to help out new invaders!

[kaiijo]

DATES WITH HIM — [WIND BREAKER]

characters: suo hayato, kiryu mitsuki, umemiya hajime, hiragi toma, kaji ren, togame jo content: gn! reader notes: i did not come up with the date idea in suo's! also i recommend reading the mentioned works in suo’s part and listening to the song in kaji’s! obvious togame bias i’m sorry (but i’m also not)

suo hayato ✶ bookstore date

you saw the idea of a bookstore scavenger hunt date and it was too cute to resist. with your list in hand, you and suo make your way to your favorite neighborhood bookstore. the old lady who runs it greets the two of you before attending to other customers. suo leans over your shoulder to look at the first item. “find a joke to make your partner laugh.”

you make your way to the joke book shelf, where suo picks up a paperback titled 100 dad jokes to make anyone bust a side! he flips through it and lands on a page. “which days are the strongest?”

“i don’t know, which ones?”

he stares at you dead in the eye as he answers, “saturday and sunday. the rest are weekdays.”

you can’t help but snort and roll your eyes, and suo says, “we’re counting that!” and you check it off the list because you don’t know if you can take another cheesy dad joke. 

you read out the next bullet point: “find a puzzle to conquer together.”

you find and complete a crossword puzzle in a magazine (you kept the magazine with you to buy later). your scavenger hunt list leads you through the travel section to talk about your dream vacation spots; the children’s section where you find your favorite childhood books; and the cookbook aisle where you find a recipe you both want to cook together. finally, the last task challenges you to find a poem that describes your partner.

you and suo split up in the poetry section for that. you thumb through pages and pages but nothing is able to capture just how you feel for suo. you find one finally just as he walks over to you, a poetry anthology in hand. you read to him kevin varrone’s “poem i wrote sitting across the table from you” and he recites joy harjo’s poem “for keeps.” 

your heart feels like its about to burst as he finishes and you take his hand in yours, bring it to your lips for a kiss. his gaze is soft as he leans forward and presses a kiss to your forehead.

kiryu mitsuki ✶ arcade date

you pout as you watch the final pac-man score flash on the screen in big, pixelated numbers: 150 to 170. kiryu ruffles your hair affectionately. “we’re all tied up again,” he says. “two to two. what do you want for the tie-breaker?”

you peer around the arcade, glancing at the flashing screens of various games. there’s street fighter, space invaders, and other classics but it’s the air hockey table that catches your eye. you nod at it. “settle the score over good old-fashioned air hockey?”

“sounds good,” he says and you two make your way over to it.

just as you arrive, another couple shows up. “oh, shit,” the other guy says when he and his girlfriend approach at the same time. 

“sorry,” you say. “you guys can have it if you want.”

“no, no, you two came first,” the girlfriend says.

“it’s seriously fine!”

“no, really, it’s cool!”

you’re all at a standstill, neither party willing to takeover the table. instead, kiryu pipes up, “there are four pushers, why don’t we play on teams? a friendly competition.”

“i’m down!” the girl smiles and turns to her boyfriend. “what do you think?”

“i say we crush ‘em!”

“ooh, those are fighting words!” you call, looping you arm through kiryu’s. “ready to kick some ass, mitsuki?”

“always.”

the competition is fierce — the other couple is a lot better than you thought and you’re playing best of seven rounds. it’s the tie breaker and you narrowly manage to block a shot from the other guy. the puck bounces off the sides, hurtling across the board towards kiryu, who easily deflects it back. the volley goes back and forth and there are far too many times it almost sinks into their goal.

the other couple just blocks a shot again and the puck is heading for you. you hit it at the right angle and it just ekes past the defense, sliding into the goal to end the game 4 to 3. you congratulate each other on a good game and kiryu sighs, “i guess that settled the score between us too, huh?”

“what do you mean?”

“you made the winning goal.” he holds out the tickets he’s won. “let’s go get you a prize.”

umemiya hajime ✶ farmer’s market date

“whoa! these squash look so good! how did you grow them? did you plant them in may or june?” umemiya’s eyes are wide and bright as he listens intently to the farmer’s answer. you don’t think you’ve seen him this excited before, which is saying a lot given his enthusiasm for almost anything. 

she smiles warmly at the two of you, asking, “how many would you like?”

“three,” you reply, reaching for your wallet, but umemiya is holding out the money for her before you can even open your bag. 

the farmer shakes her head, gently pushing his hand back. “it’s on the house,” she says, plucking a packet of seeds from a small wooden crate at the edge of the stall. “and i’ll throw these in too, all free of charge!”

“oh, please, we insist,” you begin to protest but she just shakes her head again. 

“it’s been a long time since someone has been this curious about my produce,” she chuckles, “and i’m not about to make a lovely young couple pay for this! all i ask is that you two raise the squash lovingly.”

“we will, i promise,” umemiya says, taking the bag of squash from her. as you two continue through the farmer’s market, umemiya interlocks your fingers, using his other hand to motion to the other stalls you pass. 

he says, “we have tomatoes and cucumbers already but we need mushrooms! oh, those look good!” he already leading you to another vendor, surveying the cartons of wood-ear mushrooms. you raise a brow in amusement as he buys five cartons, humming a cheery song. 

“what’s all this for, again?”

he beams at you. “the summer barbeque!”

“ahh, right!” you smile. “the infamous summer barbeque.” you glance around the market, pointing out a stall selling sausages and other meats. “i think we’ll want to get some protein, then, since your boys eat enough for a hundred men.”

“babe, you’re a genius!”

hiragi toma ✶ cooking date

make dinner at home for date night, they said. it’ll be fun, they said. you think anyone who said this is a fun, stress-free date is a total liar.

“alright,” you sigh as you clean the frying pan of egg residue for the third time. “well, fourth time’s a charm!”

hiragi pops a stomach tablet out of its packaging and chomps down on it. “you said that the last two times.”

“this one’s going to be the one!” you chirp, reaching for the egg carton. “it has to be, since these are our last four eggs.”

hiragi lets out a long, heavy breath before slipping his apron back on. “okay, one more time.” 

hiragi throws a large tablespoon of butter down the pan, tilting the pan from side to side as the melting butter coats the surface. you crack the four eggs into the measuring cup and beat them with a whisk, tipping a little drop of it onto the butter. it sizzles promisingly and you and hiragi share a glance and nod, then you pour the eggs in.

you stir the eggs quickly with a pair of chopsticks, stopping as you see the omelet beginning to smooth. hiragi tilts the pan to let the uncooked egg mixture start to cook, doing his best to keep the curds even and level. 

the new portion of eggs scramble and you spoon your chicken rice mix into the center of the omlet, roughly shaping it into an football-shape as hiragi kills the heat. “good?” you ask him, motioning with your chopsticks at the pile of rice.

“good.” he lifts the pan. “hot pan, coming through!” he places it on the damp rag on your counter. you slide the omlet to the edge of the pan, carefully wrapping the rice with egg on both sides. hiragi’s already moved to get a plate and you hold your breath as he slides it carefully onto the plate.

success.

you let out collective sighs of relief. 

kaji ren ✶ concert date

you had spent hours in an online queue to get kaji tickets to see his favorite band for his birthday. luckily, the venue isn’t too long a train ride from makochi but when you severely undersold how many people can cram themselves into the venue.

kaji’s grip is firm as you weave your way through the crowd, pushing closer to the stage. some guy jostles you, grumbling under his breath, only to apologize when he faced kaji’s cold glare. your boyfriend manages to get the two of you to a decent spot near the front, just off right of the center. 

“what song are you most excited for?” you ask him, speaking as close to his ear as possible. the din around you is getting louder and the crowd more electrified, so you know it’s starting soon.

“wasted nights,” he replies easily. 

you hum, “that sounds familiar. it’s on the playlist you made for me, right?”

his mouth lifts into a small smile. “yeah, i think it’s number eleven or twelve.” just as he is about to add something, the lights around you begin to flash and pulse as the ambient music dies down. the band comes out to thunderous cheers as they take up their instruments. 

even though you don’t know the band well, you can’t help but jump and dance with the crowd, and you sing along to parts you can remember. kaji’s not one for rowdiness himself but he thrives off the energy from it — you can see it in the way he bobs his head in rhythm, the way he seems completely in his element. as the fourth songs in the set transitions into the fifth one, a slower ballad this time, he wraps an arm around your shoulder and pecks your cheek. “thank you again,” he says. “i’m glad i’m here with you.”

you burrow further into his side, swaying to the music. “happy birthday, ren.” 

togame jo ✶ pottery class date

you tilt your head as the pottery wheel slows to a stop, examining the mug you were instructed to make. the rim is uneven and it’s leaning towards the left. togame’s isn’t any better given that his mug looks shorter and stouter than the rest of the class and the handle is fully too long. when the pottery teacher walks over, she offers a sweet smile. “beautiful work,” she says. “they both have a unique charm to them.”

“thanks, we totally meant to make them this way,” you say and she carefully brings them to the shelf where the other attendees’ mugs sit waiting for the kiln. 

oddly enough, seeing your mugs together makes them look somewhat normal, almost like an eclectic set, and when you glance at togame, he meets your eyes and you two try to suppress your laughter, togame’s broad shoulders shaking with effort. as you stand side by side, washing your hands in the classroom’s sink, togame smirks. he reaches over and claps a hand on your shoulder, leaving a large, damp terracotta-colored handprint on your shirt. 

you narrow your eyes and do the same, this time on the side of his own t-shirt. his hand touches your back and yours grazes his chest. you could probably do this forever but someone clears their throat behind you and you apologize as you actually finish cleaning up, stepping aside for another couple to wash themselves off. 

togame drapes an arm around your shoulder as you leave the building, saying, “i think i won, babe.” 

you know he’s talking about the stains all over both of your clothes but all you do is smirk at him. “i think i won, actually, since this is your shirt.”

he shrugs. “i wish i could be mad, but you look too good in my clothes to complain.”

bonus!

you return two weeks later when your “unique” mugs are primed for glazing. you two agreed to keep the final designs on your pottery a surprise so you sit as far away from each other with your backs turned. in the end, you two had similar ideas — he chose your favorite color as a background and painted on a pattern of your favorite flowers while you glazed your mug in orange and black with an attempt at a the lion face on the shishitoren jackets, albeit yours is way less threatening and much cuter. 

your mugs sit in each of your cabinets at your homes in all their uniquely beautiful glory, your new favorites — well-used and well-loved. one day, they’ll be together again, side-by-side in a cabinet that you two shared together.

[callalillywrites]

Bad Idea Made Better

My first entry for @flufftober's Fluff Bingo. A5 - "This is a bad idea."

This is also my first real fic for Aaron Hotchner and the Criminal Minds fandom. I hope I did him justice here.

Fluff Bingo Masterlist | Aaron Hotchner Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x F!Reader

Word Count: ~2200

Summary: Everyone is wanting to celebrate Dave's newest bestseller, but things go a bit awry. Thankfully, you and Aaron know how to work together to make everything better.

Warnings: mentions of illness; surprise parties; lots of fluff and sweetness all around

A/N: I really do adore this story, and I'm definitely looking forward to writing more of Hotch as he's always been one of my favs from the show.

I do not give permission to have my works copied, translated, reposted, or fed into an AI machine.

*****

"I don't know, Aaron. This feels like a really bad idea," you couldn't saying as you both juggled the multiple objects in your hands. "Dave doesn't strike me as someone who appreciates others invading his space."

Aaron Hotchner had the audacity to chuckle at your misgivings.

When you would've liked to nudge him or playfully shove him for laughing, all the stuff in your arms prevented you. The only thing left in your arsenal was snark, and you'd always had plenty of it.

Before you could unleash any though, Dave's front door opened.

Penelope squealed upon seeing the many items you two carried, motioning you both inside. "Oh, my gosh. Oh, my gosh, I'm so glad you're here. We could really use your help, my sweet lady."

You didn't get to ask why because Penelope had grabbed the only free space she could find and dragged you from Aaron's side. A glance behind you to see Aaron shaking his head, his smile visible and growing, before you were pulled deeper into Dave's home.

Penelope didn't let go until she'd gotten you into the massive and beautifully kept kitchen.

Well, used to be beautifully kept, you realized. It honestly took you a few moments to find the kitchen you considered your dream kitchen under all the mess.

"What happened in here?"

That was all it took for Penelope to dive into the juicy info she'd gathered since she arrived that morning.

From your understanding, Joy had been in the process of starting some food prep with her hubby when Kai woke up sick. Of course, they'd dropped everything and took Kai to the ER. His temp was way too high, and he complained of tummy ache. The ER took them forever. Kai was diagnosed with a stomach bug that should resolve itself in a few days. By the time they returned to Dave's place, they'd been too exhausted to even recall the mess they'd left behind.

Kai, understandably, has been their priority over any cleaning they might've done this morning before Penelope and Derek arrived.

"Penny," you surveyed the damage, not comprehending how a little prep has led to this much mess, "this can't be all Joy."

"Oh, it's not," she assured you before she recounted more of this kitchen's odyssey.

When she and Derek arrived, they did set out to clean up and start over, but neither of them had ever really been so great at making pasta, let alone Dave's favorite dishes. They'd gathered every cookbook they could find around the house before Penelope got out her laptop.

Every appliance Dave owned had been pulled from their respective spaces and used in some capacity. Not one of them had been saved from a dusting of flour or whatever paste the two had seemed to create instead of pasta dough. Some of it even appeared to have started crusting over, hardening where it'd been left.

"Take these," you said in a nonsense but gentle tone, "and get Aaron. I'm going to need his help in here. Oh, and Penny, please pray I can get through this mess and still have time to make everything we agreed to make."

"On it, sweet lady," she said, her heeled steps clicking her departure. She paused in the doorway and met your gaze over her shoulder, her smile sweet and infectious. "I'm really glad you're here, and I have complete faith in you."

You surveyed the mess once more, developing a working game plan. The mess would take at least a half-hour to clean. Another hour or so to make enough food for the surprise party. Time would be cutting it close, but you felt confident this could work.

"What do you need, honey?" Aaron asked, his arms coming around your middle.

Your confidence increased at his arrival and sweet words of assistance.

Turning in his arms, you rose as high as your toes allowed to place a sweet kiss on his lips. A smile crept over your features as you met his warm brown eyes. "Your attention to detail and some elbow grease."

"You've always got those," he said with such promise. His lips curved into a grin that had your insides melting a little, but you reluctantly pushed those feelings aside. Oh, this man could do things to you that you never thought anyone would be able to do.

It took a moment before you regained your professionalism and set him to work.

Between you two, Dave's disaster of a kitchen returned to his level of pristine cleanliness. You'd even done it with a few minutes to spare with the half-hour block you'd estimated earlier.

It helped that you two had learned to work so well together, having cooked many meals together.

Sure, the days where Jack joined were a bit more chaotic, but they were no less fun and soul healing. Jack, not so little anymore, still proved helpful and resourceful whenever a mishap threatened to topple whatever plans had been made. He'd even picked up quite a few skills from both you and Aaron, doing his part whenever it was called for.

You wouldn't trade any of the days you've shared with Aaron and Jack for anything, you realized, as he set up the few appliances you needed. Your love for them had been set deep within your heart, and you looked forward to having as many more as they'd allow you.

"What's that face?" Aaron asked, his hand coming up to trace over your cheek. "I don't know that I've seen that face before. You okay, honey?"

Shaking yourself, you smiled with all the love you had. "Yeah, I'm good. Really good."

He studied you another moment. Whatever he saw must've lent truth to your words because he leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to your cheek.

A squeal from the doorway had you both turning towards it. Wry grins stole over your features as only one could make that noise from the team, and that was Penelope.

"You two are just so cute," she gushed.

Her hands were clenched beneath her chin as she practically vibrated where she stood.

You could only shake your head as you asked, "Need something, Penny?"

"Oh, yeah, I need to borrow Hotch. I'll send him right back, sweet lady."

After assuring Aaron and Penelope you could manage on your own for a bit, you quickly set about to work. The first task you needed to complete was making enough pasta for everyone joining for this celebration of Dave's latest bestseller.

A quick glance at the clock promised you'd have just enough time to get everything finished on time as long as no other hiccups occurred.

Aaron returned a few minutes later, and Joy even managed to join you two. She quickly figured out what was left and set about doing that, her gratitude evident despite her exhausted state.

When you were certain you had everything under control, you quickly searched out the fully stocked fridge and cabinets of Dave's kitchen. After grabbing a few items, you set them down on the counter and quickly made up something soft but filling for Joy, Kai, and Shawn. It wouldn't do to make them wait another hour or so for Dave's surprise dinner to eat something.

"You really don't have to do that," Joy said when she realized what you were doing.

Shaking your head, you shushed her. "It's not a problem. I've learned how fussy a young boy can be when they're not feeling well. This was one of Jack's favorites whenever he caught something. Maybe it'll help Kai as well."

Joy didn't argue after that, simply sat and watched as you finished everything up yet again.

When you would've trayed it up, Aaron stopped you, nudging you aside and taking over. His hands took up the few plates and bowls you'd prepared and set them in a manner that only one trip would be needed.

"I'll bring the tray if you'd like to grab the drinks, Joy," he said and waited until she led the way from the kitchen. When he reached the doorway, he paused a moment to meet your gaze. The softest smile graced his features as he said, "Do you know how much I love you?"

A smile bloomed until your cheeks hurt.

You nodded. "I do, and I love you just as much, Aaron."

"That's impossible, honey."

He didn't give you the chance to argue, his feet quickly taking him out of the doorway and catching up to Joy.

With the kitchen to yourself once more, you turned back to what was left to do.

Well, you thought you had it to yourself.

A noise near the back door had you turning to find Dave standing there. His suitcase sat at his feet and an amused but affectionate expression rested on his own obviously face.

"How long have you been standing there?"

"Long enough, mia bella," he spun his keys in his hand before coming further into the kitchen and sitting at his large island, "to know how much you mean to this team and even to my family."

Being the premier profiler, he didn't give you a chance to flounder but rather continued by changing the subject. "So, how much damage have they done to my house?"

You huffed, shaking your head at him. Amusement filled you when you caught the twinkling humor lurking in his expressive eyes. He only allowed a few people to see his mischievous side, and you felt quite honored to be one of those people.

"I'm sure it's not too bad. I did try and tell them this was a bad idea, but they were quite insistent as I'm sure you're aware."

"You're a good kid. If Aaron doesn't put a ring on your finger soon, let me know. We'll find you a good Italian boy, someone who'll appreciate all you have to offer."

To emphasize his words, he reached into the pan closest to him and snatched some of the pasta you'd just finished preparing. A soft moan of appreciation left his throat almost involuntarily, chewing slowly to enjoy each of the flavors you added.

"If I were twenty years younger…"

"You would make me wife number five?"

"You wound me, mia bella."

"My apologies, Dave," you said sincerely.

"Hotch is gone five minutes, Rossi, and you're over here trying to propose to his girl," Derek said from the doorway, his brows raised even as a wide grin spread over his face. "You're either a brave man or a stupid one. Ring or no ring, we all know Hotch is all in with Pretty Mama."

"That I am," Aaron agreed, stepping back into the room.

He didn't stop until he returned to your side where he belonged and had belonged for some time. His arm came up to wrap around your waist even as he dropped a kiss into your hair.

In a voice low enough only you'd hear, he said, "I have the ring at home. I'm taking you to dinner this weekend. Your favorite place. Our favorite table there. Have them slip it into your favorite dessert. Hope with everything in me that you'll say yes."

"You got Jack's blessing?"

He nodded. "He helped me pick out the ring. Even told me it took me long enough."

Laughter spilled out of you at that. Leave it to Jack Hotchner to know what he wanted before his father did. It heartened you to know that Jack cared about you that much as you cared about him just the same. You'd do anything for Jack, including stepping aside if he didn't want you in his or his father's life anymore.

Meeting his gaze, you found yourself getting lost in the love he so freely expressed in his gaze. It was enough to have your breath catching. His love for you hadn't been a secret for several months now, but every time he looked at you like that, you always lost your breath. How could you not when you had a man like Aaron Hotchner?

"What do you think?" he asked after a moment too long in silence. "Bad idea?"

You shook your head. It took several rapid blinks to get your emotions back under control. One of your dreams was coming true even if it was going to be another couple of days. You could wait. You would wait forever if it mean a lifetime with Aaron and with Jack.

"No, no," you said, swallowing down the lump that had risen, "it's a very good idea. The best idea you've ever had."

"So, you'll say yes?"

Happiness swelled within you, but you tempered it. No reason to not tease him for a moment after the incredibly sweet bombshell he'd dropped on you. Your eyes were surely twinkling as you said, "Guess you'll have to wait until this weekend to find out. Though, I'm certain the odds will be in your favor."

"You're going to keep me on my toes, aren't you, honey?"

"Always."

He pressed a kiss to your hair again as he whispered, "Good."

[maraudering-times]

25 days of Jegumas - Day 14: Feast - 1558 Words - @noblehouseofgay

James was totally not freaking out. 

He could do this and it will be the best dinner ever.

His mum’s cookbook is balanced precariously on top of the flour container and a bowl of rinsed cherries waiting to be simmered down on the stove. All along his work top, ingredients to make the best feast imaginable were lined up, if everything goes well and he doesn’t monumentally fuck it up. 

How hard could it be to follow simple instructions?

As it turns out: very. 

James rushed to open the kitchen window and grabbed a tea towel to wave in front of the blaring fire alarm. His attempt at homemade rolls are a smoldering chunk of charcoal invading his already messy sink. The stove top is splattered with the remains of that cherry pie filling he was trying to follow. What was going to be a roast chicken with vegetables is also burnt from when his rolls just had to catch on fire in the oven, so that was a bust now. 

The only salvageable thing that remained from James’s cooking adventure was the premade pie crust his mother had recommended which is safely tucked in its baking dish resting in the fridge. 

Frustrated tears pricked behind James’s eyes as he desperately tried to reach the alarm to take the batteries out. Through the piercing chirps of the offending device, he couldn’t hear the front door opening. But he did hear his boyfriend’s sharp inhale. James whirled around and almost broke then and there.

Regulus looked stunning as always, even with his wide worried eyes taking in the sight of their ravaged kitchen. “R-Regulus! You’re home early.”

Regulus quickly moved further into the kitchen and grabbed the charred oven mitt to help waft the smoke out the window. “Sirius had to get back to work. What the hell happened here?”

James sputtered. “I-I was trying to make us a nice dinner.”

“And I appreciate the thought, love, but you are a terrible cook.”

James flushed in embarrassment and finally got his hand on the fire alarm. He took it down and ripped the battery out, silence filling the room finally. “Mum let me borrow her cookbook,” he tells him. “I really did try.”

Regulus smiled sadly and walked over to embrace him. “And I appreciate that, Jamie, really.” James buried his face in his boyfriend’s hair, letting a few tears slip out. Regulus’s voice softened, “How ‘bout we clean up and order take out? Chinese?”

James sniffled. “Thai?”

“Thai’s fine.” Regulus pulled back slightly and pressed a kiss to James’s lips. His hand cups the taller’s face and he gingerly wipes his cheek dry with his thumb.

They silently work together to throw the disaster of a feast away and clean the stove and counters. Regulus order’s their food halfway through and by the time the kitchen was back to cleanliness, the doorbell rang announcing its arrival. Regulus went to tip the delivery driver while James set the table, bringing out candles and their nice plates. He grabbed his phone next and queued up some music to play on their speaker

He was still forlorn about the disaster the night had started but is hoping what he has planned next will go more smoothly. Regulus came into the dining room, his gaze trained on the take out receipt to ensure everything was there. When he finally looked up and saw the decorated table he froze. A small smile broke out on his face. “This is nice.”

James blushes again and pulls out the chair for him, “Just because my dinner was ruined doesn’t mean we can’t still act it out.”

Regulus giggled and took his seat, placing the Thai food in the middle. James took his spot next to him and pressed play on his phone, soft music filled the atmosphere. They split the food up between them and ate. 

Once their plates were empty and the food packed back into its plastic bag James turned to Regulus. He wiped his hands on his pants, drying the sweat that was forming on his palms. Regulus smiled at him and his nerves multiplied ten folds. “How was the meal?” He shyly asked.

“It was delicious, Thai was a great idea.” He reached over the table and placed his hand in front of James. “Although, I’m sure if your meal was completed it would’ve been even more delicious.” James beamed. His hand crept towards his pants’ pocket to ensure the box was still there. “Thank you for the dinner, Jamie.”

“Of course.” He won’t lose his momentum. He won’t. James took a steadying breath and looked Regulus in the eye. “Regulus…” he started. “Would you like some wine?” James inwardly cringed and mentally yelled at himself. He can do this.

“I would, thank you.” With a nod, James gets up and goes to the kitchen to get the bottle from the fridge. He returns with the wine opened and two glasses already poured. They sat in relative silence sipping their respective glasses. When James’s was empty he immediately poured another and downed that one. Regulus gave him a funny look and set down his half drank glass. He asked, “Is everything okay, James?”

James was halfway reaching for the now almost empty wine bottle and paused. “Uh, yeah, yes, everything is fine. Why do you ask?”

His boyfriend raised his eyebrows in disbelief and glanced between him and the mostly drunk bottle between them. He hummed noncommittally and took another sip of wine. “No reason.”

James blew out a long winded breath and fiddled with the stem of his glass, his eyes trained on the crystal. “There actually is something I wanted to talk to you about,” he started hesitantly. Which, in retrospect of who James is madly in love with, wasn’t the best way to start the real reason of the evening.

Exhibit A: Regulus immediately freezing and blurting out; “Are you breaking up with me? Is that why you were making a nice dinner and brought out the wine? You’re letting me down gently?” 

James sputtered and fell out of his chair to kneel directly in front of him. He grabbed Regulus’s hands and violently shook his head. “No! No, fuck, no.” James took a steadying breath. “Regulus Arcturus Black, you are the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Never in my life had I met someone as amazing and understanding as you are. You see me for me, and I see you for you. We accept each others’ flaws and strengths as if they’re our own. Through every bad day, you’re there for me and I’m there for you. Never, and I mean never, in my right mind would I ever let you go.” 

Regulus has tears brimming in his eyes but James doesn’t stop. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the box holding their future. Inside the black velvet box is a silver tungsten band inlaid with a smaller malachite band in the center of the metal. Engraved on the inside of the ring are their initials and the date of their anniversary. Regulus gasped at the sight of it and his tears overflowed, dripping down his chin.

“You are my star, Reggie, lighting up whatever darkness that’s in me until it's gone and burnt out. You are my universe, you’re all I think about every waking moment, and all I dream about when I’m asleep. You are the cosmos to me, bringing harmony to my world. I cannot fathom an instance when I don’t have you by my side, in this life or the next. In any of them really. I love you so damn much, Regulus. Will you marry me?”

James waited, staring into those beautiful eyes that hold the heavens he just described. Regulus shuttered out a sob and fell forward, wrapping his arms around James’s neck and shoulder. Their kiss is wet from his tears. Regulus shook in his arms as he continued to kiss him. James pulled back, resting their foreheads together. They’re breath mingled when he asked with a chuckle, “Is that a yes?”

“Y-yes,” Regulus sobbed. James beamed and pulled further back to take the ring out of the box and to slide it on his fiancé's finger. They both admired the way the candle light glinted off of the ring. Regulus smiled privately at his hand, his fingers caressing the jewelry. James took it and kissed his knuckles. 

Regulus laughed sweetly as James pulled him into his lap on the floor. They entwined their fingers, resting them against Regulus’s sternum. “I can’t wait to show you off at our Christmas party as my fiance now.” James told him.

Regulus rolled his eyes. He wiped his still damp cheek on James’s shoulder. “I can’t wait to see Sirius’s reaction.”

James snorted. “Who do you think went with me to pick the ring out?” 

“Really?”

“Of course he did, love.” James kissed his hair. “He was supposed to keep you out of the house longer tonight, but it’s fine. Everything worked out perfectly.”

Regulus shook his head fondly and stood, bringing James up with him by their conjoined hands. “How about we finish that wine and break open another bottle, fiancé?” James preened and swooped down to place a chaise kiss to his lips. “Whatever you wish, fiancé.”

i was gonna include the photo of the ring i used as inspo but decided against it

[shipthelambs]

I love the idea that the Park and the other Slow Horses have one address for Lamb, but Catherine is the only one who knows where he really lives and neither of them ever talk about. Just for emergencies. Can totally see her knowing the code for his phone too. Just in case.

In my head, she’s almost certainly his next of kin too.

We put this joint drabble together

Thanks for inspiring us

😁👇

Part I. (Me)

It had been almost three months since Jackson Lamb haggled for and won the punishment-detail department of MI5, became king, and, for reasons unknown to a soul, brought Catherine Standish with him. The Aldersgate office—never before used, except for made-up legends—was assigned to them.

Every day, Jackson Lamb stayed in his office. Smoking, drinking, sleeping, resting, doing nothing. Apart from occasional visits from Catherine Standish, who wanted to know, for example, what her job actually involved. At the beginning, he told her it was all about making his tea, opening his mail, and sorting the files. But the kettle was faulty, he had only received two letters so far, and there were no files yet. Eventually, her visits became less frequent as he let her know each time how unwelcome they were—or rather, how unwelcome she was.

That morning, she was particularly bored, so she risked invading his den again. She woke him by placing a weak, lukewarm cup of tea on his desk.

"When are we getting more people in? I feel like we should have more work."

"I am working, Standish."

She gave him an incredulous look. "Working?"

"Yes, hard at it. Can’t you see?"

She paused. He was supposed to be one of the best they had. Maybe this was the way he operated—solving mysteries with his eyes closed.

"A desk is a dangerous place from which to watch the world?" she asked softly, as if in understanding.

"Fucking hell. You’re quoting le Carré, Standish?"

She shrugged.

"Christ, don’t tell me you’ve actually read it."

"I have."

"Before or after you joined the Service?" He seemed genuinely interested now, sipping his tea.

"After."

"I suppose that’s slightly better. No false hope..."

"Charles always said we needed to know le Carré to understand Second Desk’s discourse—"

"The old bastard’s?"

"He quoted le Carré in every meeting he went to."

This was already one of the longest conversations they’d ever had.

"No book could illustrate the outlandish shit we go through, Standish."

"You know John le Carré was actually a spy."

" Then he definitely left out half the outlandish shit he went through. We go through."

She didn’t say anything, just folded her hands, waiting for him to elaborate.

"You shouldn’t read crap like that. It’s not real, you know. But I suppose with the drinking you’ve always struggled with reality, haven’t you?" The first proper taunt of the morning.

"What do you recommend I read, then?"

"Try a fucking cookbook, so you can learn how to make decent tea—"

"The kettle isn’t working properly." She tried.

"—and do it in your own fucking office."

She sighed and hurried out before he decided throwing the mug at her might be a good idea.

The following week, Jackson Lamb got mail—his third letter overall. It was from Mills & Boon, a confirmation for a monthly subscription to their bodice-ripper novels…

She had to read it several times to believe it. Being thorough, she noticed something else: the home address in the letter didn’t match the one in their system...

@aladio-milhomes part II.

The feet were firm on the pavement, but her head felt light.

Her heart though, was right in the midst of it all, literally and figuratively. Racing from the exercise and her sudden decision, but also steady because of the frozen fresh air.

Perfect balance, if it wasn't for all the batty ideas that were crossing her mind.

He did that on purpose? Was it meant for her?

And why on earth would he want her to know something like that?

It hadn't been at plain sight, but easy enough for her to see since she was the one to receive the post and sort it —between the two of them—, not his usual complete spook secrecy either.

She knew almost no personal data was truthful in his file, but she wasn’t expecting this kind of intel, nor she expected to find out this way. She had a subscription letter between her hands, a book subscription. Or was it? This certainly had to be a mistake, or some kind of joke.

Deep down she'd been forever curious about what kind of place a creature like him could inhabit. She always thought it would be the complete opposite of Charles'. And she wasn't wrong.

It was already dark when she went out for her unexpected afternoon stroll.

She didn't see where she was going, nor didn't she need to. Her body was an autonomous being, even though her eyes were looking inwardly.

She felt grateful that since she'd arrived at that corner not a single drop of rain fell, for she had been standing there for quite some time now. Although, on the way here, some wind had shoved water under her umbrella, and her hair was still wet. She really should be going.

He probably wasn't there anyway, but she didn't want to raise suspicions amongst the neighbours either.

Just in case.

However, Lamb had a way to learn about everything, and she was afraid she wouldn't be able to justify herself under these circumstances. He wouldn't trust her ever again.

And now that she thought of it, he probably had one of the neighbours trained, with that inherent charm of his, to alert him if something weird like this happened.

Despite her serious inner monologue, her head felt uneasy with giddiness. The kind you start feeling when certain animals flutter in certain organ.

Silly woman. What a daft thing to do.

She took in all she could, while imagining how it would look on the inside. No doubt the same as his office, filthy, smelling of tobacco and sweat and hasn't changed a single wall, stinking of the 70s, like his oily hair. She chuckled.

A car passed her at quite a speed, startling her from her thoughts. At the same time, a glimpse of a very brief orangy blazing spark could be seen on the middle window of the first floor.

Catherine looked back at the house to get a last look, probably for the last time too, and retraced the path that led her there.

He watched her go from the darkness of his room. With a small smile tugging his mouth, full of smoke. "Clever girl."

@onesimus42 part III.

Catherine eyed the object lying in the middle of her desk with suspicion. It certainly wasn’t a style that she would have picked out for herself. Truth be told, it was a bit of a stretch to use the word style and this object in the same sentence. It actually looked enough like one that he wore that she examined it closely determine that it was in fact not pre-worn by himself. After ascertaining that it was at least clean, she took an experimental sniff. It smelled faintly of cigarettes. So, it had been with him, but not worn by him at least.

Turning the bucket hat over, she tried to determine some reason that he would have left this gift on her desk. Did he want her to go undercover? As what? A middle aged man with poor taste? Although deep down, she knew the reason. He had seen her. He had seen her closely enough last night that he knew her hair was wet. That meant there was a good chance that he’d followed her after she left the corner down from his house. She had to admit that if he hadn’t wanted her to notice him following, she likely wouldn’t. With his over-developed sense of protection over her, he’d probably wanted to make sure that she made it home safe.

Now, he wanted her to know that he’d seen her. Did he want her to confront him? Probably not. If he had he would have just called her into his office and given her a good bollocking. It wasn’t like he hadn’t before. No, he just wanted to know that she knew that he knew. Honestly, following his logic made her head hurt.

She was tempted to throw the ugly, bucket hat in the bin. On the other hand, it was a sturdy hat at least. It would keep her hair dry even if the wind blew it in under the umbrella. No need to throw away something useful. To that end, she hung it on her coat rack. At times during the day, she would glance at it and smile softly to herself. She thought, maybe, he might just be a little proud that she had found her way to his house. Not that he’d ever admit it, and she would certainly never mention it.

PS:

next of kin, all goes to her in the will — That’s all 100% true.

We know, they know, he knows, even Diana knows

[cannedwyrms]

Spoilers for Shadow of the Erdtree but...

So, Moore. I'll admit, didn't strike me as very interesting my first playthrough. Yeah, he was a funny little guy, but that seemed to be it.

I wanna talk about Moore for just a bit.

However, on a few subsequent runs and an unhealthy amount of thinking, I believe Moore is a lot moore complex than I originally thought.

When we first meet him, he's right outside Belurat, next to Ansbach. Most of Miq's followers can be found on close proximity to each other, which may just be to show that they are all fellows, united in common cause, but there might be some reason for specific placements.

As far as I'm aware, Moore's placement next to Ansbach doesn't have any significance, but I'd love to hear any theories or thoughts if you have any.

He's like the supplier for Leda's band, working with other members of the forager brood to find things, which he then shares with the others.

"Things give joy to all," as he says.

Moore talks in a very simplistic manner. To me, it almost seems like he's forcing some of the words out. This could be because he's actually not a guy, but one of the pests, part of the forager brood. That's just a headcannon of mine, but I do think there's some evidence for it.

Anyway, Moore's quest revolves, as all of the followers do, around the breaking of Miquella's great rune.

But there's quite a bit of missable dialogue before it that really adds to his character.

We learn he's part of the forager brood, who you can find, well, foraging all over the Lands of Shadow. They'll give you cookbooks, and generally be cute little guys (gender-neutral). There's one by the church of crusade that's shivering and cold.

Pop down a warming stone or other similar items, and it'll heat right up. If you go back to Moore after doing that, he'll give you a cookbook with two items that are almost useful.

If you attack any of the brood, he'll eventually invade you and you'll be forced to kill him.

After the great rune is shattered, Moore seems to have a bit of a crisis. He feels abandoned, and will tell you that him and his brood were abandoned by their mother.

Before we continue any further, let's speculate on who Moore's mother could be.

Personally, I believe the forager brood to have, in some way, been birthed by Romina. A bit obvious, perhaps, but the pests have always been associated with the scarlet rot, and Romina became pretty bug-like after she accepted the rot. As to why she would abandon her buggy children, that's where my theory starts to fall apart. If I end up making a post about Romina herself, I'll explore this idea further.

Back to Moore, we can now get into the specifics of what his quest is actually about. What the theme is, how it informs our reading of the rest of the game, etc.

Moore's quest is about trauma. And, to be moore specific, Moore wants to forget the trauma of his abandonment, and believes Miquella's love is the way to do that.

After the great rune is shattered, you are able to give Moore a rare three-way choice to end his quest. If you choose the "sad forever" option, Moore will tell you goodbye and be found dead, next to the corpse of one of his siblings.

If you choose the "put it behind you" option, Moore will decide to keep following Miquella, believing that his love will "banish the pain."

The next time you meet him will be in your fight against Leda, where he will remark about what a tragedy it is for you and the others to fight, and will die. He seems to regret needing to fight you. At his heart, Moore is kind and gentle, only moved to the tides of battle because he, like so many others, believes it will save him.

Accepting Miquella's love is not the solution to moving past his trauma. There is no easy escape, and even if Miq's love did banish Moore's pain, it might not even help him feel any better.

This is one of the moore interesting ends to Moore's quest, because it informs us a bit about the theme of his questline, and Miquella's faliure to understand others' suffering. Becaus Surprise! Somehow I'm actually still talking about Miquella!

Basically, if Miquella really wanted to fix things he would've invented therapy.

Moore's final ending is very interesting as well because he's the only character that can actually survive the whole dlc.

If you choose "I don't know," Moore will eventually come to the conclusion that, even though it hurts, even though he's still sad, he has his family and the things he enjoys doing, and concludes that that's enough for him. And because of that, he actually survives the dlc. He's still there after you defeat Miquella and Radahn, and even though he's sad that Leda and the others never come by to visit, he's still alive. He's still foraging.

And this, I think, is actually another thing the game is trying to tell us.

Amidst all of these great ambitions, these demigods and champions trying to bring about change, to "fix" the world as they see fit, the one person who survives is the only one who finds contentment not in some great goal, not in revenge or obsession, but in simply appreciating what he has and trying to make the best of it.

It's not a perfect solution, sure, but Moore eventually comes to understand that, while he might not be fully happy, losing himself to some goal is not going to magically fix his problems or give him some sense of fulfillment. That's why he's the only one that survives.

Even in the base game, most characters eventually die, mostly for the reasons I stated above. Alexander chases a glorious battle, Hewg loses himself to the promise and obsession of making a godslaying weapon, Melina burns herself to fulfil our goals.

But Moore can live.

And maybe this is what Miquella was missing. In the pursuit of a perfect world, he missed the fact that no world can be perfect, especially not one built off the back of suffering. Instead, Elden Ring says, true peace—true kindness—comes from making the best of your situation and appreciating what you already have.

Of course, this doesn't mean you shouldn't try to improve your surroundings any, it just means that often our happiness can come from things we might have taken for granted.

Personally, I like Moore's second ending the best, the one where he fights alongside Leda and the others, but that's only because I'm a sucker for a good tragedy. Moore's inclusion in that fight also strengthens the idea that what you're doing is kind of wrong (something I'll get to when I talk about Leda) and that there is no moral black and white, only shades of gray.

All in all, Moore is a lot moore interesting than he might first appear, and his inclusion reveals another theme and strengthens all the other ones we've talked about.

I'll get to Leda soon, and eventually to all of Miq's followers, but when I seriously started analyzing Moore I realized I needed to make a post on him. Although, I'll admit I'm still not completely sold on this interpretation, I'm still pretty proud of it.

Okay, bye.

[mariacallous]

The renowned Italian cookbook author, Marcella Hazan, considered by many as the godmother of modern Italian cuisine, left an indelible mark on the culinary world with her meticulous and traditional approach to Italian cuisine. While her recipes live on in the kitchens of home cooks worldwide, her wild journey to becoming one of America’s most famous chefs remains a mystery to most. Her journey to success saw Hazan go from fleeing Nazi officers, to marrying an Italian Jewish businessman and discovering the recipes and secrets of Italian Jewish cuisine that would ultimately shape her destiny. 

An Uphill Battle

Hazan was born to a Catholic family in Cesenatico, Italy. As a young child she was disabled by an injury, leaving her with just one good hand, so she rarely ventured too far into the kitchen. While Hazan grew up around delicious food, for much of her early life, her experience in the kitchen was relegated to boiling water for pasta and making mulberry porridge for the family’s livestock. 

Marcella instead was a woman of science, studying biology voraciously in all her free time. But when the Nazis had invaded Italy in the final years of the war, Marcella’s luck took a turn for the worse. She was taken to court over suspicion of murdering a Nazi officer. 

Suspicions arose during her time in high school, after her professor of human anatomy had lent Hazan a human skeleton, all but the head. Hoping to learn even more about the human body she did what any strong-willed aspiring student would do; she went to the cemetery to dig up a skull with the help of the local gravedigger. But when letters to a friend were intercepted, officials understood her keeping the skull as her keeping a souvenir of the man she had murdered. 

Marcella prepared her remarks for weeks, knowing that her life depended on her ability to convince them of her innocence. She was brought before a local judge and was interrogated for hours, in which time Hazan explained the predicament. After the gravedigger vouched for her, the judge told Marcella: “We are too busy here with serious matters to spend time on such foolishness. Take your skull, go home, and don’t let us see you again.”

Married Life

Following that startling incident, Marcella worked to become a biology teacher at a local middle school. She continued to spend more of her time in the laboratory than the kitchen. However, when she married Italian-American Jew Victor Hazan, he introduced her to an entirely new world of cooking. Victor and his family had escaped Italy and the fascist rule for the greener pastures of New York, but he had returned to Italy to reconnect with his roots. He loved to cook, always trying new dishes out in the kitchen, while Marcella still only knew how to boil water and make porridge. 

New York, New York

This completely changed in 1955, when they married and moved to the hustle and bustle of New York City. In Italy, she explained in a 2010 NPR interview, “The chicken, they were arriving from the farmer and they were alive. And at the supermarket they were very dead; they were wrapped; it was like a coffin. Everything was not natural.”

She decided the only way she could survive in a country like this was to learn to cook. Luckily she had some help from Victor’s Jewish mother, Giulia. Every Friday night they would go for Shabbat dinner at their apartment. 

Giulia was famous for her borekitas, a classic Sephardic Shabbat treat. “One was made with phyllo dough, and the other one was kind of a crumbly dough,” Giuliano Hazan, Victor and Marcella’s only son, shared in an interview with the St. Louis Jewish Light. “She would fill them with spinach or a mix of cheeses, and she would do eggplant fillings, which were really good.”

Nonna Giulia was also known for her green beans stewed with tomatoes, her spinach and chickpeas with lemon juice and her browned okra with tomatoes. Marcella learned from these dishes and incorporated the concepts into her own food, and began to develop a deep passion for creating simple but nourishing meals. 

After discovering her love for cooking, Marcella wanted to discover other cuisines. So she signed up for a Chinese cooking class, but after the teacher got sick following just one class her classmates decided they preferred to learn Italian cooking with Ms. Hazan instead. Her husband, sensing an opportunity, encouraged it. “You like to teach, you like to cook,” he said. “Put the two things together and stop complaining.”

Word began to spread throughout the New York culinary scene about these small cooking classes that emphasized the authentic, uncompromising methods of Italian cuisine and fresh ingredients and flavors. 

Marcella’s work in introducing Italian cuisine to the American public was facilitated by her partnership with Victor, who translated her books from Italian to English and supported her culinary endeavors. In 1973, she published “The Classic Italian Cookbook,” now lauded as a monumental book in modern American cuisine. Her recipes for dishes like Roast Chicken with Two Lemons and her signature bolognese sauce have superseded her reputation and have been handed down from generation to generation. In the end, it was Marcella’s perseverance, integrity and authenticity that endeared her cooking to millions. Her unwillingness to let anything stop her in her way is a testament to her uncompromising attitude and the lessons she learned cooking with her husband’s Jewish family.  

Building on his mother’s legacy, Giuliano Hazan has become a successful cookbook writer himself, and written at length about those Friday night meals they shared as a family. His books continue the age-old tradition of Jewish Italian cuisine, showcasing dishes such as carciofi alla giudia (Jewish-style artichokes) and bimuelos (fried dough balls).

[invaders-cookbook]

This is true. Blade of Maya, Jeenine and Chase the Bro all famously play female characters in Elden Ring. It is a common trend among good players.

Here's a fun insider fact from Elden Ring PvP side of fandom:

Most Elden Ring invaders are women. Like whenever you get invaded it's 70% just female characters.

Idk why but all of these good PvP players are all playing women for no reason. Even the best of the best. All girlies.

[katyspersonal]

Continuation of the previous post! Probably like 2/3, MAYBE 2/4 I don't know hghghgb

1) So, I proceeded to the Rauh Ruins! Earlier when I visited this place I somehow ended up in the pool with giant hippo through weird jumping and found Spider Scorpion Ashes! Then I died for a dumb reason and then got lost in the labyrinths, and ALSO died for a dumb reason 🤡

But this time, I checked the door I've skipped previous time to check later, and turned out it WAS what I needed 🤡🤡🤡

2) I found this cool tailsman:

.....and then got killed by a fly guy who corner-guyed me 🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡

3) Later down there, I killed a strong Crucible Knight, who appeared to be a new named character!

I really like these vgfhhb I have love/hate relationship with Elden Ring's like, 400 characters including all non-respawns and mentioned. It IS nice that the word is so full, but it plays a cruel joke with my autism towards wanting to remember every name XD

4) Okay so, remember I boasted about having killed all Furnace Golems? To my delight, there was one more here! XD annnd it was gone. It is okay, though, I can always bully them again in NG+ 😎

5) My objective, though, was a Horned Knight I saw from afar earlier where Cross and Dane's letter were but couldn't reach due to big height. I kept trying to figure out the way to reach them, but had to give up. It is just so weird how I sometimes notice an enemy and get strong fixation on trying to kill it gggfhgfh

6) The next half an hour was....... bad, on the other hand. -_- In the next underground building, to my surprise, I've noticed some Hornsent using the blood-flies swarm magic not unlike Vare, and yeah, I know there were some Bloodfiends here earlier, but yes later that would be a point of interest!

But.... ohhh my fucking God. I kept getting lost, or so I thought?? I skipped the elevator and ran to kill a couple of Horned Knights, and then ended up in a small place with bloodloss variant of hounds and a Bloodfiend with A BIT TOO MUCH HEALTH 🤦‍♂️ I died and what I, like (questionably) sane person decided to do? RIGHT tried again 🤡 But later I took another turn

AND THERE WAS A POOL OF SCARLET ROT AND GODDAMN RED variant of Kindred of Rot!! I could not get anywhere NEAR the first one because it kept shooting the X2 VARIANT of Pest Strings at me!!!!! I barely was able to progress! Later somehow I ended up in another Rot place, and got invaded by Vengeance-Seeking Hornsent! Whom I almost killed but my plans got ruined by me stepping back and getting CORNER GUYED BY ANOTHER KINDRED OF ROT!!!

I screamed, I cursed, I messaged @val-of-the-north "WHERE AM I SUPPOSED TO GO" and "WHICH ONE OF AT LEAST THREE """FORWARDS""" ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT". I found the double variant of Pest Strings as an incantation, I could not understand why Hornsent wasn't invading again, turned out I kept running in another place and somehow accessed previous one without remembering how, turned out I needed to take that one elevator I've skipped and so I did area backwards, turned out in the first room there was a lever I NEEDED to use but was not seeing 🙄🤦‍♂️.... But, at last, I figured this place after 500 attempts and killed the guy too!

6.1) Yes, he dropped his set and weapon. :> ..and the caterpillars mask. The descriptions of which I've already read prior, because people kept telling me he was a Potentate himself. XD I covered why it was not likely the case earlier in this ( x ) ask reply regarding the topic!

Ironically, here I found an evidence in favor of that claim, because not far away from this spot there was a Potentate Cookbook that allowed to create Hefty Rot Pot! So it could be a reasoning for him oddly being in this place: learning what to do with materials here! Doesn't change the timeline contrivance though so not convinced.... besides, Romina turned out to be from Belurat originally, which he also comes from, so maybe he was seeking old friends / went nuts finding her and hearing more from her.. But yet AGAIN, this is a surprise tool that will help us later!

6.2) Huge waste that he never got any dialogue though! What, are we just supposed to assume that he went insane after testing revenge? :p Explain yourself, "partner in arms"!!

7) In the area afterwards, I recall hopping on the roof and killing an unusual variant of a Horned Knight!

^ this was not what they dropped there; I got their chest piece drop later! What they DID drop was leg piece and, if I remember correctly, their incantation of sending many golden feathers to attack them! I just don't remember if they dropped it or I found it nearby.. Chest piece was a later drop on my other run after dying, but I found it more interesting!

So, you know how herald of God of Death, at least in some quantity, is the Twinbird? This chest piece mentions being given special favour by some golden birds! Meanwhile, description of Winged Scythe mentioned white maidens/angels as envoys of death? (Yes, Katy, of course everyone here remembers one of like 600000 descriptions in this GIANT game 🤦‍♂️) ... so I think, maybe whereas white/silver/whatever are Death(rite) birds, the golden birds are "life" birds! Especially with the reoccurring gold+silver theme in Elden Ring! So, while Bird Knights were the Knights of Gold life birds, those "angels" were this to White death birds 👀 Guys.... second half of the Twinbird...

8) So, I've found Church of the Bud, golden fog and all, but continued to explore every nook and secret I could before going there. Found an interesting Crucible in a secret spot!

9) I swear I checked everywhere for now. Still had something left with that bridge and a golem shooting arrows from there, but I just decided to go fight the boss already.

I've had a big, long sigh.. I hoped for a cutscene because I saw very minor spoiler for this boss and from the design I believed there would be SOME stellar appearance! I even expected the VOICELINES! However, the battle just started. And, like... it has been very easy. I was tense, not letting myself relax! I just KNEW it could not be this easy! There HAD to be a catch, like second healthbar after this first phase is over!!

..but, no. I just killed her and that was it. It was frustratingly easy. ;-; No cinematic, no voice, no second scarier phase like Goddess of Rot.. I don't know whether I accidentally collected TOO many Scadutree Fragments, or adapted too well or both, but it is what it is... ;-; At least, it was very beautiful.

10) I checked her items at Enia's, kinda want to get both if I still have a Mausoleum free! Scarlet Rot is my fav status effect to torture enemies with! XD

... what followed was like, 3 hours long conversation with @val-of-the-north about the lore.

So, it started with him pointing out that translation is a bit inaccurate and he read elsewhere it says more like "she discovered a divinity and clung to it" + "like sinister Scarlet Rot", which I already believed more because Scarlet Buds straight up said that they were not always infected by Scarlet Rot! But turned out I completely missed the fact that Romina did appear in the second DLC trailer holding the bud that became her weapon, where Messmer was burning Belurat!

I honestly didn't remember it when I saw her weapon, in my memory it vaguely left a trace as "some guy holding a sword" hfhggvn

So we had red buds initially growing in Belurat, yet still not Rotten, and her relocating them in Rauh (conveniently, as Messmer doesn't touch this place anymore thanks to Salza). But also they only became infected with Scarlet Rot later, IN Rauh, yet some infection WAS left in Belurat as it is also full of giant scorpions and fly people and has poisonous swamp! God of Rot was scorpion-like though, and giant scorpions are associated with 'saint of the bud'!

So, I think what she let live back in Belurat, more to worse than to better, was the source of fly disease, and Scarlet Rot is a later variant of that poison, probably appearing over long stagnation! She nurtures buds that will never bloom, what can be MORE stagnant? They're like eggs that never got to hatch but layed around enough to go bad!

But seriously... that convo was LONG. Maybe even longer than 3 hours, actually. We covered everything in my weird obsession to understand what happened here. The fact that Deathblight, Scarlet Rot and Formless Blood all have connection with plants and flies like ugly triplets of sorts, what Abyssal Serpent could be, how came story of Romina's discovery is similar to how Bloodfiends discovered Formless Mother in the shadow of their ancestors corpse. Whether Outer Gods reach out, are born at the place of misery, or both. If maybe the 'stagnation' uniting three concepts was something dumped in Abyss and not burnt by Abyssal Serpent yet and Messmer could maybe accidentally open a portal in there if he went TOO wild with his fires, so creatures from there try to escape! And Eiglay and Winged Serpent and Formless Serpent and what all of them are jfghhb

_________

The brainstorming got so intense that I was not able to keep playing and... went to bed, as it was past 1 AM xD Conversation of the century, of course, but it requires a separate post! In fact I did have an ask about Romina I neglected to look at until I meet this boss, I probably should pick it up now!! I want to, just.. in several days when I have my computer ;-;

So I went to bed and the rest happened today! I will share in the next post!!

[dearabby1990]

Chapter 36: Forever & a day

The drive back to yours felt longer then usual you dozed off sometime during the drive only to be woken up by the car hitting an odd amount of bumps in the road. You don’t remember there being many potholes on the way home from previous drives around town. You slowly raise your head to look out the window & take in your surroundings noticing you’re nowhere near home with the amount of trees you see & the dirt road you’re currently cruising down. “Uh Gareth where the hell are we going?.. what happened you finally got sick of me now you’re gonna murder me or something ahaha” trying to make light of what’s happening because you’re extremely confused “No Jame I’m not gonna murder you ya nut hahahaha it’s a surprise though & I’m not allowed to say but I will tell you that you’re gonna love it & that’s all I’m saying & nothing more” you start to get excited but still have that nervous feeling twisting around in gut like a swarm of butterflies claimed shelter inside of you. Gareth makes a sharp right down a small dirt trail & you start to realize you’re near you & eddies special spot it’s in the woods near the school but also close enough to the lake & then you see it. The twinkling of fairy lights & the burning of several candles & there he stands next to the table your love dressed so handsomely. Hair done to perfection a maroon button up black slacks new black converse & two bouquets of flowers with a million dollar smile. Gareth turns his head to you & takes your hand for a moment “Jame we’ve been friends since we were literally in diapers & me & Eddie are best friends blood buddies hellfire for life, you’ve both had a hell of a ride so far in life & there’s no two other people I root for then you & Ed. You both deserve to be happy & I’m glad you both found that in each other now that being said go get your man & thanks for being the best sister figure I could ever ask for” your eyes fill with tears you peck him on the cheek “thank you for always being so sweet & supportive Gareth you have no idea how much me & Eddie appreciate you truly” one more peck & you hop out of the car & run into Eddie’s arms. You take in his cologne the smell invading your senses like a drug you just can’t get enough of “hey princess” Eddie whispers as he rubs small circle on your back “hello handsome” he leans back to take you in & hands you flowers “I know you love lily’s I just wasn’t sure what kind & I want this to be perfect & I wa-“ you cut him off in a kiss feeling him smile against your lips “Eddie they’re beautiful & I love all Lily’s this is perfect” you sway side to side holding them & smelling each of them & look up through your lashes at him as he gestures for you to sit at you & his special table all decorated & a picnic basket filled with foods that look like he made himself “Wayne helped with the food a bit I didn’t wanna burn the trailer down” he said chuckling putting everything on the table “Ed’s is all perfect thank you pretty boy” his cheeks a shade of red you’ve never seen before he takes out a bottle of wine “it’s a special occasion & I know you love your moscato” he pours you both a glass & you both sit & enjoy the chicken cacciatore that Wayne & Eddie made which is absolutely delicious not to mention Wayne made your favorite dessert peanut butter cake with chocolate buttercream after you made it for him once you gave him the recipe with promises not to share with a soul because it came from your mom’s cookbook she handmade you when you were 12. She was very family oriented & wanted me to have every family recipe for when she was no longer here. You still wonder what the special occasion is but don’t wanna push it you here funny noises coming through the trees it scares you at first until you notice Jeff Gareth & Freak come from the shadows with some of their band gear & then see Dustin Mike & Lucas. “Hey guys oh my I haven’t seen you boys in awhile you run up hugging the younger ones before heading back to Eddie. “love what’s going on?..” he smiles at you “you’ll see beautiful just you take a seat we got the rest”

The younger bunch came with wood pallets in hand making a mini makeshift stage for the boys to set up on Eddie sneaking glances at you shooting winks or blowing you kisses when you catch him. You sit patiently kicking your feet as you sit on the bench dustin comes & plops down next to you. “Uh yah know.. I know you haven’t been a part of our party very long but regardless you’ve been one of the best parts of it & we’re all so glad to have you, you’re like the sister we all so desperately wished for im an only child so all you’ve done for me.. for all of us I just wanted to say thanks & that we all love ya” you hug him tightly “what’s with today is this make Jamie cry day haha I love you guys too” he goes to leave but you grab his wrist & pull him towards you to whisper “just so you know you’re my favorite don’t tell anyone” you wink at him & he gives you that Henderson megawatt smile & heads off toward the guys. The guys are all set & Eddie grabs the wireless mic “Tonight is gonna be one for the books not just for corroded coffin but for me & this beautiful vixen right here I love you sweetheart & hope to spend the rest of my life showing just how much I truly do so this is for you” Eddie’s fingers start to glide across the strings as they begin playing “Heaven” by Warrant your heart clenches eyes filling with tears he doesn’t take his eyes off of you until he feels the lyrics closing his eyes pouring his soul into it like the most perfect work of Art 🎼”I don’t need to be the king of the world as long as I’m a hero of this little girl… Heaven isn’t too far away… Closer to it everyday…No matter what your friends might say… How I love the way you move.. & the sparkle in your eyes… There’s a color deep inside them like blue suburban sky.. When I come home late at night And you're in bed asleep I wrap my arms around you So I can feel you breathe… I don’t need to be a Superman.. As long as you will always be my biggest fan… Heaven isn’t too far away… Closer to it everyday!!.. No matter what your friends might say… We’ll find our way!!”🎼 totally captivated by him as he by you the song starts to dwindle down & Eddie clears his throat before stepping closer to where you’re sitting “Sweetheart I just want you to know that everyday with you is like heaven, you have no idea how much light you’ve shined on my dark & twisted life. Before you I never believed in love or soulmates or any of that shit but the moment I laid eyes on you it was electrifying I just can’t explain it it’s like the voice in my head was just telling me to look over where you were & I felt this pull a magnetic energy drawing me towards you & then the first time I got to kiss you I knew for sure my soul found so desperately what it was looking for I’ve been with girls before you & none of them have made me feel the way you do. I feel like we’re destined for each other like we had one another in another life or time or space. Being with you feels like home to me you are home & if I didn’t have you I just know I wouldn’t be able to survive it my heart is yours eternally & what I wanted to ask is if you’ll have me for the rest of our lives” you’re hysterical shaking & sobbing Eddie steps off the pallets & kneels down on one knee in front of you “Ed’s?” He takes your hand all the boys are standing behind Eddie dustin & Lucas are crying & you hear a sniffle from behind you only to see Steve,Robin, Nancy & Jonathan smiling at the both of you “You’re it for me there’s no where else I’d rather be then wrapped up in you grow old with you our souls finally intertwined in the way the universe intended… Jamie Antoinette Baker.. would you do me the honor of being my wife?” Your breath hitches & you nod like a mad woman “YES!!” He quickly slides the ring onto your finger & engulfs you into a hug spinning you around to the point you start feeling dizzy. Everyone around you yelling & whistling. Dustin is full on sobbing along with Robin being surrounded by all your favorite faces the people you now call family life is starting to become something you’ve never thought it’d be

[escookbook]

🍳 Attack! Invade! Conquer! 🍳 It's time for a recipe highlight!

Need rations? Try out Ibara's Granola Bars For Any Eventuality by Lily!

Preorders for the cookbook end on March 12th! 🍎 escookbook.bigcartel.com

[norel-ravenclaw]

The Haunted Mansion

Ikepri AU - Part 3

Fandom: Ikemen Prince (otome game)

Featured characters: All 13 plus allusions to unknown new trio

Genre: Paranormal Tragic Romance

Rating: 14+

Word count: Part 3 - 2900

Description: Ikepri Haunted Mansion AU - The regional princes have had an awful time getting servants to stay at their grand manor. A young woman takes the job and quickly discovers why no one else applied. Despite the strange occurrences, she finds home and even love among them. But tragedy seeks to cut short the possibility of a happy ending. Be warned, this is a story for those who like a twisted sort of satisfaction.

WARNINGS: | lots of violent death, killing, and suicide (nothing too explicitly gory) | mxw | polyamory | yandere | toxic relationships | angst | dark goth vibes | seriously, only read this in a good headspace |

................................................................

Mr. Silvio Ricci was the wealthiest man in the hemisphere. He had governed the land by the sea for many years, but when the papers went to his brother, he left to go exert his influence elsewhere.

And this led him to the cursed mansion at the edge of the land. Deserted by its guardian beasts, the people were in need of a new governance system, and he was all to happy to so easily invade.

He was silver haired, blue eyed, and always decked in expensive fabric and jangling jewels. Precisely the sort of eccentric one might expect to purchase a manor of death.

The place came with a few gardeners who would not stay long, a devil of a butler, a pretty maid, and... as the flashy lord called him, a mangy mutt.

Rio Ortiz and the new lord of the manor got along like two wolves who were certain there was not room in the pack for the other.

Even so, Miss Emma found that he was rather like an abused dog. Rough around the edges, quick to bite, but in need not of a kennel, but of affection.

Now, after the horrible incident between her second fiancé and the vanished brother, Luke's manic worryings had began to influence her. She too now thought she saw shadows of the lost brothers. She, too, whispered conversations to them, whether to comfort herself or because she really thought they were there, even she could not say.

Despite these odd proclivities, Miss Emma was kind and gentle, witty and diligent. And all who met her came to admire her.

Just so, the new Lord Silvio came to like the one woman who could match him. The one who could see through his bite to hear the whimper in his bark.

And he fell, hard. He showered her with gifts and jewels. So many jewels.

Determined to make her the new mistress of his new land, he acquired a (rather gaudy) ring of sapphire and pearl.

However, he and Mr. Ortiz were desperately at odds with one another. The latter was like a ferocious guard dog towards the lovely lady, and thoroughly disapproved of the haughty lord trying to claim her.

Fearful that indeed, Silvio's intention was more to punish him than out of genuine affection, Rio dared to take drastic measures to protect his damsel.

One night, as the new lord held a stunningly ostentations banquet, he made his way to the centre of the vast dining hall to make an announcement.

He held up a velvet box with a sapphire ring, offering it, and his love, to Miss Emma.

But no sooner had she risen from her chair in shock, a tragedy occurred.

The grand chandelier in the centre of the grand space, where the jewel-decked lord stood... fell.

All of the candles in the space went out at once. A great blessing (or strategy?) to hide the guests and the poor, poor lady from the distressing sight.

Within seconds, Rio was there to whisk her away from the scene.

And thus ended the brief but brilliant era of the Ricci's ownership of the mansion.

Alas, poor Miss Emma began to spend more time up in the attic, going there to read and pace and stare at the never used white dress and a row of rings.

There grew a sort of shrine. A yellow diamond ring, an odd clay figure, a cookbook, a romance novel, a belt with wolf's fur, a pair of whiskey glasses, a ruby ring, a small teddy bear, and now, a sapphire ring.

From the small attic window, she could see many of the wings of the mansion, watching at midnight as lights would come on in unused rooms. Figures would pace in offices and libraries.

She was sure of it.

Not long after the tragic and spectacular death of Lord Silvio, another wealthy man approached the place.

His own inheritance he'd given to his sister, but now felt too adrift. He sought a new home and new purpose. And helping the Rhodolite region recover from its leadership troubles seemed an appropriate use of his hard won skills.

His name was Keith Howell. Tall and broad shouldered, awkward as he was elegant.

But there was something decidedly odd about him. Even Mr. Noir would stare at the man as though something was amiss. Something...

He was often kind and sweet and indeed overly apologetic. But then, sometimes...

Miss Emma discovered that he had another side to him. Late one night, she found him in one of the ballrooms.

"Mr. Howell. Were you playing the organ in here?"

He turned to her in the dark room, the moonlight catching on his golden eyes.

"What are you talking about? You were the one playing, weren't you? Why would you try to trick me after all I've done for you?"

Although he smiled, there was an edge to it that made her freeze like a doe.

"I.. did not mean..."

He approached her, getting far closer than usual. Lifting her chin with a finger, he said, "It's naughty to play tricks."

She watched him leave, but a few moments later, a loud chord of the organ trilled, sending her off at a sprint.

She liked Mr. Howell, but sometimes, it was like he was a different person entirely.

While she liked him, her ever faithful guard dog Rio, did not. He did not trust the man at all.

And within a month, the whole region stirred with the news that yet another murder had happened at the manor.

The man was found stabbed in his study, botany books and ledgers all around.

The lady was numb as the police came in force, investigating the place high and low for days. Countless interviews of her, Rio, and Sariel.

She wondered if Keith had been killed by someone on business at the mansion? While he was often obsequious, he could at times be... forceful.

Even so, a stag antler necklace made its way to her little shrine.

There she sat and pondered it all.

Chevalier had been murdered by Clavis in a fit of rage.

Nokto had lost a duel.

Jin had fallen victim to poison meant for another.

Leon had been killed by Luke in a fit of madness.

Silvio had likely been murdered by a jealous guest at his own party.

Luke had disappeared to god knows where, never to return.

All the others, Clavis, Yves, and Licht, had died in tragic, if mysterious, accidents.

But, of them all, the murder of Mr. Howell bothered her in a unique way. Somehow, this felt more... wrong.

As her mind swirled with conundrums and grief, the evening moonlight rose, and mist coalesced in the attic. The temperature dropped enough to make her shiver.

The sight of a pair of bright blue eyes staring back at her in the mirror made her scream bloody murder.

The very image of Silvio was reflected there, dalmatian fur and all.

"He did this! He killed us!"

His voice was distant and echoey. She could not understand.

"What? Who killed you?"

The apparition raged, slamming his fists against the mirror as though he was trapped inside it.

"That damn dog! It's in the chest he brought! Find it!"

Her mind raced. "Dog... Rio? The chest he brought?"

She recalled that Mr. Ortiz had evidently arrived to the mansion with only a single small trunk. All his worldly possessions had fit inside.

Her heart clamoured. Could her overprotective fellow servant had possibly killed both Lord Silvio and Keith?

Horrified by the possibility, she rushed to his room. He was not around.

And so she slipped in, standing on her tiptoes to get down the small trunk off the top of his wardrobe.

And... oh, poor dear Miss Emma when she saw what laid inside.

A beautiful old coat, finely made. A velvet box. A dagger sheath, gilded in gold and sapphires and citrine.

And the sheath's intended occupant. With bits of blood not properly cleaned off of it. Fresh enough to not have oxidized to near black as old blood ought to have.

"Oh! Miss Emma! What are you-"

He froze, horrified beyond words as she slowly turned around, her face soaked with tears, and trembling hands holding a dagger.

Scrambling to not lose her favour, he rushed to her. "Y-you must understand! That Silvio was a horrible person! He only wanted to punish me, he didn't really love you! And Kieth was dangerous! I couldn't bear the thought of him hurting you!"

She shoved him away, letting the knife clatter to the ground. "I loved them!" she screamed.

Silence fell over them.

"I did... I loved them all. They were strange and sometimes scary but they were kind and I trusted them and I... loved them all."

She fell to her knees, as did he.

They cried together. "I just wanted to protect you! Oh, Emma... could you have ever loved me?"

Rage and grief filled her eyes. "I did, Rio. I did."

She got up and stormed out of the room, and he collapsed onto the ground, sobbing. His hands balled into fists just inches away from the cursed dagger.

Darkness fell over the mansion that night. A darkness that would never again lift in the light of day.

Unaware of Emma's secret hideout and shrine in the attic, the obsessive attendant went up into the darkness.

A rope was hung.

As the clock struck one, his body swung.

Once again, the police arrived. This time, Mr. Noir had to lock her in her room as she screamed and cried.

He presented to them the dagger, and the body of the murderer.

And it was over.

Everything was over.

As Miss Emma wailed and raved into the day, she found her way up to the attic, unaware of what had happened there in the night.

She fell to her knees in front of the mirror. Lying beside it was the wedding dress.

Manic to the point of madness, she stripped her clothes and put on the slightly yellowed dress. She took the three rings from the altar and put them on whatever fingers they would fit.

Diamond, ruby, and sapphire glittered in the dim light of a single candle.

She wailed their names. All of them.

Until she saw them in the mirror. She was no stranger now to such apparitions.

"Leon! Chevalier!"

Rushing over to it, she clutched onto the frame, her tears obscuring their sadly smiling faces.

"Emma..."

"Simpleton. Stop struggling."

"We love you. Never forget that."

As their faces faded, she screamed.

"Come back! Don't leave me alone! You all left me alone! I can't..."

Once her sobbing left her gasping for breath, exhaustion overcame her.

And through the new silence, a steady sound could be heard.

Tap. Tap. Tap of a cane.

"Little rabbit, it's upsetting to see you like this."

She whirled around to see him perched casually on top of an old chest, his legs crossed.

"Gilbert!"

He smiled at her. "Would you like to hear a story, bunny?"

With a tiny nod of her head, he grinned, and began.

"Once upon a time, these lands were distant from early civilization. Pagan druids were the only ones who dared come so far into the nothingness. They performed profane rituals and spells here, intended to curse the souls of evil kings and warriors. Trapping them in this valley until the end of time.

"But when the cemeteries and crypts were built out here, those poor souls were captured by the same ancient spells. The restless ones were confined to the land, including that of this mansion."

Gilbert sighed and smiled the most chillingly dark smile the lady had ever seen him wear.

"Did you have any idea? Your little dog became the 999th soul bound to this place. Funny, that miserable poor sap before him counted for two souls. Did you know?"

He stood and plopped a hand onto her hair, smoothing it down. "The curse is said to be breakable once one thousand souls have been damned here. I wonder if it's true. Anyway, why don't you wear that dress of yours to the party tonight, little rabbit?"

"...Party?"

His red eye glittered, and so did his other eye, ghostly blue underneath as he lifted away his eyepatch. "Yes. The one you hear every night. You should join us. They're so miserable without you."

"...Who is?"

"Who do you think? Me! And the others too, I guess."

With a twirl of his cane and a twisted sort of smile, he turned to leave.

"There's always room for one more~"

Poor Miss Emma's head spun. Whatever was the apparition talking about? He wasn't real, he never had been! Right...?

She paced and cried and sobbed. She put on the stag necklace from the altar and flipped through the cookbook.

She muttered to herself with the strange little clay figure, teddy bear, and the fluffy wolf fur clutched to her chest.

And then she saw it.

A rope coiled up off to the side that hadn't been there before. Tied on one end was a perfect loop for a noose.

And thus the heartbroken lady spun into the darkness once and for all.

...

…

…

"...Emma."

She knelt there in the attic, tears marring her face.

She knew that voice. As well as any other. She loved that voice.

But she was tired of his mysteries and deflections. Sitting in a pool of white fabric, she looked up at him in the doorway.

"Tell me who you really are, Sariel."

Frozen momentarily, his walls crumbled. "I suppose you deserve the truth."

He knelt in front of her, agony evident in his violet eyes.

"I made a deal with the devil ages ago. My father. When I found this place, I simply stayed here. Then a local lord, the princes' father, was destined for hell, and I decided to stay and look after his sons. However fantastic, that is the truth."

He gently tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "It may forever be my greatest regret that I could not protect you, my dear. But it will be my honour to care for you here. Come now, let us leave this dreary place behind."

He helped her to her feet, keeping an arm around her shoulders to steer her out the door so that she did not catch sight of her body dangling from the rafter.

He took her back to her room and threw open the armoire. "Let's get you dressed for a ball, hm? You'll be the Belle of the ball tonight and every night."

Tired and dazed, feeling numb at last, she agreed, letting him help her into a fine gown. He fixed her hair and adorned her in jewels to accompany the three stones she still wore on her elegant hands.

And together, they descended the stairs, the music and voices of the party louder than ever.

The doors opened for them, and the crowd fell into whispers.

And standing at the front of that crowd were many familiar faces.

She gasped, tears welling in her eyes. Just as she was about to run to them, a man in black stepped in front of her.

"Ah! Gilbert!"

He smiled at her. And it seemed somehow more genuine than ever before.

"Welcome, little bunny. This party tonight is just for you. Won't you let me have the first dance?"

"...I suppose the host ought to have the first dance."

As they whirled on the dance floor amidst dresses of all styles and eras, he grinned at her.

"How happy I am to have you here to play with, at long last."

A man in red tapped on his shoulder. "Might I cut in?"

"Leon!"

He smiled at her as brilliantly as the sun, pulling her into his arms without waiting for a response.

"I'm so happy to see you looking so happy, sweetheart," he beamed.

Tears not of grief, but joy glittered on her cheeks. "I can't believe you're really here!"

"Yes. We're here. And we're all together, Em."

But as they spun to the music, her smile faded.

She knew.

Her voice was small.

"Leon... I'm dead aren't I?"

He took a breath, holding her tightly. And yet a kind smile made its way to his lips.

"Today may have been the day you died, but you have brought all of us to life in a way we never knew even while still alive. You have brought us such joy, and I promise you, this is not the end."

He kissed her forehead tenderly. "Together we will make an afterlife worth living."

... The End ...

VERSION 2

(From where every suitor was going to have a belle. Too much hassle killing off THAT many people lol)

...

Sariel Noir. He had lured each of the victims into the castle over the years, desperately hoping to placate the vicious spirits of his many masters. But now, his own soul grew ravenously restless. He required a mate of his own to tame and soothe his tortured soul.

The castle was host to precisely 999 spirits.

But there was room for one more.

[tarnishedinquirer]

Case: Exile Massacre

Didn't expect to stumble upon an actual case within this castle, but here we are.

After taking care of that duo, I pushed forward into an area of the castle that seemed disused. There were exile soldiers here, but there were more piles of rubble, more stray bricks, and the grass was growing up through the tiles more severely than in other parts of the castle. Found a cookbook on a corpse that would let me make arrows from the pinions of a stormhawk, but I don't really use arrows that much.

I crossed a small rope bridge, and suddenly found myself at the scene of a massacre. An entire courtyard covered in the bodies of Exiled Soldiers, with a lone Banished Knight staring at them. Now he was staring at me, and we found ourselves in a bit of a standoff.

I started casting and took him down before he could get to me, but I forgot to check my blind spot.

Another knight was hiding behind a short wall, ready to strike. This one was a bit different than all the other knights in this castle. This one wore the red shawl and cast dragon communion incantations, like the ones in the Fringefolk Hero's Grave.

I took care of him, but I couldn't just leave this be. It was too out of place. A piled of dead soldiers wasn't that unusual here, but only in places I've been already. Why is this guy the only Dragon Knight in the castle? Why was this particular Banished Knight cooperating with him? Actually, was he cooperating, or did I just come in at the wrong time and they decided I was the bigger problem?

One possible clue was the Festering Bloody Finger I found nearby. Now, I don't exactly know how summoning and invading works. It seems we've got a bunch of nearly worlds slightly out of sync with each other, and items like this let you go from one to the other. I've met allies in the flesh who then used summoning signs to aid me later, so it can also happen within the same world. Maybe it works a bit different if you have the guidance of grace. That makes sense. If you have the Guidance, you can go to other worlds. If you don't, you stick to the one you're in. Even problems of magic and metaphysics can be solved with simple observational logic.

So then the dragon knight could've used a bloody finger to invade Stormveil, and pick a fight with the Exiles. Probably doesn't have too much control over where exactly he lands, so in these cases, it's more useful for a raid than an all-out attack. If he landed here, killed the soldiers, and then the other Banished Knight came upon him, there might be some lingering camaraderie between them that made the situation more awkward than immediately violent.

In that case, what could he have been after? Well... I've tasted dragon communion. I know what a rush it can be. If these guys practice it, then he was probably after a dragon. That could mean there's a dragon corpse somewhere here in this castle.

The story makes sense, but there's too many hypotheticals to really call it a conclusion.

Hypothesis: The dragon knight used a bloody finger to teleport into this castle, looking for the corpse of a dragon. He dropped into a mass of Exiles, and had to defend himself. He sat down to take a rest, then another knight came upon him. The two types of knight are mostly amicable despite whatever schism they have, so the two had a standoff until I became a fifth wheel.

Is there a dragon corpse in this castle?

How does summoning/invading work for those without the Guidance of Grace?

What's the schism between the two types of Banished Knight?

Where do the banished dragon knights make their base?

If my hypothesis is wrong, then who killed the Exiles, and why was the Knight here?

[pureseasalt]

traces of ink (sydney x carmy)

made after seeing the post by @theladyvalkyrieskyeart�� . feeling insane over the idea of carmy drawing syd. i dont believe that he has never done it after meeting her the writers and cast are lying to us. 

posted on pureseasalt on ao3, but posting here again. no beta. i wrote this in one go and blacked out after.

Summary: He lied when he said he’d never drawn again until Claire. He did. Once. (Set pre-season 2. Carmy has a panic attack. Guess who he remembers to help him cope.)

Words: 1.7k

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It was probably the middle of the night. Carmy couldn’t be exact about that. His memory’s kinda fucked– been fucked, since Mikey, or even before that. There were times from high school when Mom would go full apeshit ‘cause she told him to get the phone, to make some calls or just to embarrass Sugar by letting her hear the fights she picks with the phone operator. “No- no, sweetheart, I said don’t fucking put me on hold ever again– yeah? Alright! Go fuck yourself!” Something like that. Anyway, Mom would get mad at him ‘cause she told him to get the phone and somehow, he’d just forget that she did. He’d insist, “I didn’t hear you, Ma!” And he’d believe that; that he didn’t really hear her because in his head it never happened. 

But somehow it always did. She’d tell him things that never seemed to have happened.

This one, he just couldn’t remember when he did, or why. 

Carmy does a lot of things that he could only truly understand the reason behind after the fact he’s done it. All he knew, at that time, was he couldn’t sleep. He’d woken up in cold sweat after having one of those nightmares. He was in the middle of the stage and there’s a stove right in front of him and Chef was there. At the very middle of the seats. No audience but him. The smell of gasoline pervaded but there was no fire burning. No one else in the theater but Carmy and a man who smiled at him like he was the only one who knew the lines. 

And just when Chef was about to say it– “You are an excellent chef,” Carmy’s hand collided with the coffee table, jolting him awake.

You are also a piece of– 

“Shit, shit, shit,” Carmy hissed as he cradled the smarting joints. He sat up feeling as if the world had ended in his sleep and he was the only one left. In many ways, at that point, he actually was. His sous and pastry chef had walked out on him without any notice. Carmy knew that it was only a matter of time until the rest would do the same, even Richie, because Carmy was Carmy and making people stay had never been his specialty. Look at Mikey. 

The lighter wasn’t anywhere to be found so smoking was out of the window. He couldn’t calm himself down. His heart was running ahead of him and he was practically lugging his body around the room, pacing around looking for a destination. Not there, he reprimanded as he thought about the restaurant. It all still felt so raw. If he went there now he might still hear his own voice, the same way his mother’s voice echoed past the kitchen and into the living room, invading whatever silence it finds and staying there. 

So he settled for the floor, next to the stack of cookbooks. The wood creaked beneath him as he crouched down, eventually sitting to fiddle with his thumbs and grip his hair by the roots. His breathing was still messed up, but at least he could see clearly. One book strayed from the rest, he even noticed. Fish Plate by Michelle Rhimes. Its hardbound cover was sticking out and didn’t lay flat like the last of its pages, on the account of something stuck inside. 

He picked it up and flipped through the table of contents; through honey-glazed tilapia and fish florentine. There was a pen clipped to a blank piece of paper. Well, not completely blank. Someone had scribbled 1 tbsp dried thym and didn’t bother finishing it. Must have been him. He knew it was him. That was the funny thing about memory.

His was fucked, yes, but there were details that his brain permanently latched on, sometimes whispering to him in bed like Angry Annie, his bully from first grade, recounting all his mistakes for the entire class to laugh at and refusing to just let him have a good night’s rest without wanting to hit himself. Carmy recalled that he’d written that note for his next door neighbor back in New York. This old couple that routinely asked him for a good trout recipe after they found out that he was a chef. Both of them were hard of hearing, so Carmy thought of writing it down. 

By the time he’d gotten around to doing it, they’d already moved out. 

The rainbow trout on page 79 stared back at him and Carmy blew air out through his nose. 

His brain had a knack for comedic timing.

The pink bellied fish looked exactly like the one on Sydney’s scarf. 

The one that seemed peach-pink sometimes under the midday sun. “I feel like I’m owed one,” she told him on one of those days when she wore it (Trout scarf, he’d labeled it in his head) (Nice scarf, looks beautiful, he sometimes wanted to say, but that was just weird). She ribbed him that time at the back of the restaurant, which he so rightfully deserved. 

What boss leaves the wrangling of a batshit, toxic system to a new hire so that he could attend an Al-Anon meeting and make sense of his brother. Who also happened to be dead. 

Asshole. 

Syd should’ve called him an asshole that day. 

She should’ve left that day.

Instead, she laid out her heart– “This place could be different,” in a manner so concise and cogent and honest that, by the end of it, he’s surprised he’s not wiped out on the floor mouthing, like the crazy that he is, "What the hell just happened.” Because that was more than he ever deserved at that moment. When she talked to him like that it was as if Carmy had been brought back to earth. Sobered up after a long life of passing through doors on nothing but frantic energy. Talked down, excluded, not called, shouted at. Then all of a sudden somebody sits him down and levels with him, tells him, “Hey, dude, I’m with you. Give me the respect I deserve. You’re not the only one in here. I’m with you. ”  

All he could do was nod to everything Syd was saying. 

And she laughed with him and she said, “Fuck brunch.”

Fuck brunch.

He shook his head. In the middle of a fucking panic attack and he’s chuckling. He looked down and realized that he’d been pressing the pen cap, leaving dashes of blue ink on the paper. Sydney did that too sometimes. 

She would repeatedly press the cap as she pondered over that little notebook. He always took notice of that when it happens, even from his office, because she did everything with precise intention. Her writing had a decisive rhythm; hurried, but it knew its destination. Never one to waste time. That was Syd. So those few minutes of her just… idly playing with the cap would make him pause and listen (Never look because that was weird). 

Carmy often wondered what she was thinking about.

Eventually, the clicking would be a steady white noise among the rattling of pots and pans. If he actually stills himself, mutes everything else in a way that he could only do when he’s cooking, he could hear her humming. Just a faint sound trickling through the grooves and corners of the kitchen. Carmy would then resume bookkeeping, feeling lighter about the world. He connected the dashes on the paper with uneven lines. Carmy never looked but he could see . 

Her brows scrunched together when she was deep in thought. Her lips slanted down in a pout. Trout scarf wrapped around her hair. 

It never occurred to him that the last time he’d drawn was in high school.

He only looked at what he’d done– Sydney leaning against the countertop– and thought:

I gotta do more . 

Sydney had a number of scarves, so it only made sense that he did everything, didn’t he?  Besides, it was a puzzle to him every morning what her criteria was for picking and choosing, because of course Sydney would have one. The one with the rays and orange leaves, he decided, is when she wakes up feeling giddy. Probably has an idea she wants to pitch. 

She came to work once in that, beaming. Her smile reached her cheeks. The sun was in her hair. She snorted loudly when she laughed. 

Carmy etched her head with lines that reached to the sky, like a halo. He felt good looking at it. 

Then, he decided to draw some more, even the ones that he knew would make him feel worse. It felt like disrespect to only put to paper the ones that made him feel good, because Carmy had made her feel bad too. More than she deserved. He had shot her down about the short rib and risotto, without the same grace that she’d decided to give him when he made mistakes. Syd wore that same orange scarf that day. 

Her eyes flinched. The light of promise died in there, darkening them. Her braids fell to her shoulders as they sank to Carmy’s rejection. 

Cross hatches made shadows around her face; although having finished it, Carmy found that he didn’t feel as shitty as he thought he would. Only, oddly determined, like he was telling himself, I gotta do more. I gotta do more. I gotta see her again.  

The blue scarf was for when she’s determined enough to knock down walls. Her gaze was sharp, straight ahead on the prize. Carmy drew that one in the middle of the paper. 

Fatigue knocked him down after the fifth…or was it the sixth? (It was the tenth.) (The side profile of her face, earrings dangling like stars.) When he woke up, it was already 11:30 AM. He was on the floor with his slacked fingers keeping the pen from rolling to the floor. 

The cookbook was open.

Different faces of the same woman were sketched on one sheet of paper, and some more on the spaces between the pages. 

—

The next time Carmy tells himself that he won’t draw again will be after Claire.

He will lie again.

The next time, however, Carmy will remember when he does it, and why.

[targetonthebullseye]

𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲

a GhostSoap one shot

based off of "Ghost Story" by The Narcissist Cookbook

"....To answer yer question...Ay love you." Grasped hands tightened a hold around a scorned knuckle, as a desperate blue gaze caught the attention of a murderer. Heart heavy, breath weighted, the military man contributed to his tangent-- all he wanted, all he needed, was for Ghost to just. Listen. "...Because ay have to."

"No, Johnny. You...can't--" "Nae, Ghost-- Simon. Juist...Listen. To me." Painful. It was painful. It was hard for the persist to look his partner in crime in the eye. Both pushed away their icks and nudges of tension, and saw each other-- truly spoke, and saw each other. It made Soap sweat from the pressure he had been silently casted to-- callously akin to being tossed to hungry dogs....But this dog wasn't hungry-- no. Not a lick. This man-- this dog across from him was tortured, burned, and bent, yes. But soft, attentive, quiet and friendly beneath his mask and keen, painted brown eye. He was serene, and he was perfect. And he was listening to him.

"...There es no 'why' aboot et.

Anymore than there es a reason why water vapor-- gathers in teh sky,

or-- or why the nettles in the garden dinnae go awa',

no matter how much the guy doonstairs tries teh keep them at bay.

No.

There is no 'why' aboot et."

No more listening. For a moment, there was quiet. But cold. This room, this sofa, window, table-- was the eye of a hurricane. It is quiet in the middle of the eye..It is quiet. It worried Ghost- for the first time in eons, it felt....He felt feeling- emotions on the tip of his tongue, swallowed to weight his pitted stomach.....It was fear, and worry, and it was hell. It was hell, and torture, to see Soap on the brink of distress, keeping his truest and rawest feelings to himself. He felt that-- Ghost...No. Behind the mask....Simon Riley felt that. Every bit of it...And it was hell. And then Soap croaked.

"There...Es a 'how,' ay suppose." His eyes were angle down amidst the isolating stillness, trailing up to Lieutenant as he did before-- iron lock, and baby blue, shining in the moon that peeked through the window, and the lamp that watched from beside. "Don't realle' understand et, tho--

maybe if ay dug aroond a bit in teh soil

ay'd find oot where all his love comes from

an' what it's for,

But then.....Then...The question would be answered..."

Pity. Oh, pity....And they both knew it- felt it searing into their veins like water invading drowning lungs, burning all means of breath. The air ran cold, yet hearts beat warm....They were still colleagues. They were still teammates-- nothing more....Nothing more. But he smiled- Soap, the short-tempered destruction....Smiled. And every second, Simon leaned over. He was listening.

"The ghost story would be over.

There'd be....Very little point in tellin' it aneh'more..

Right noo, ay'm just happy tae...Let it be."

He drove here. This all started with deployment, a coffee shop meet up, a week of passed time-- and a phone call. Soap had to talk, and he let it slip- Simons name, and three, simple, gentle words.....They had to talk. Not just he, they. Soap was in the car when he called, and it scared Ghost to know this man was on the road, crying- screaming into his phone like a depressed man on his dying legs. Immature, thought Soap....How he was acting...Was immature. But it was needed- Simon was still listening to his story. Shaky breaths and all.

"Let....You be you, and....Me be me.

Sleep til' noon, an' watch TV..

...Make schemes together...."

"heheh, oh Johnny, ya bugger--"

"Try not tae keep secrets from each other....

..Ay just-.....Hope to God we're right--....Ay'm right...When I say...

..I love you.

.....I just.....Enjoy being aroond you...."

No more listening. For a moment....It was quiet....But warm. A skulled mask lifted, and a rough, but plush lip finally gave in to its deepest urges. Simons stomach was freed of its pit, and he was released of his doubts, his worries....His Ghosts that haunted him so. Soap closed his eyes, hands leaving Simon's and rubbing up his strong, sturdy arms, to his shoulders-- and almost tickling Ghost as they delicately locked around his neck. Their connection only deepened, the lieutenants head turning and breaking the kiss- only to take a breath and to be pulled back in. They were listening, still listening...Hearing their hearts leap into their throats, catching onto their palpable and gentle hums, and their soft breaths as they broke apart....Closer than ever.

A cheeky smile painted Soaps lips, his tongue licking his canine with win. He did it...He did it. And Ghost loved him-- he listened to him....And he still was. Attentively, oh so attentively, Simon was gaping into a sea of calming water....It was his eyes....Oh, so beautiful eyes....What was this feeling- this arising swallow of security and embrace....He was....safe. He was actually safe....

"...And I don't think ay'm goin' anywhere."

"...What haunts tongues and lacks proof."

"Oh mah god, Simon....

Ah ghost story?"

"Me, ya cheeky devil...

....But tha' is funny."

"Hhahah!! Mm, figured."

"Mmmhm....

....I love you, Johnny."

"Even more, LT....Even more..."