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He's telling the wisps about his date with Rook.

Pspsps Emmrich girlies where are yoooouu??

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A friend said that Astarion had a devastating dialog if you die in the duel with Orin as Durge, and I had an old save close enough so I went to see it for myself. I think I need to sue for emotional damage after this.

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ALSO Emmrich Volkarin is in the prime of his life so jot that down. His lifestyle is healthy as hell, he's wealthy and a MAGE. There's lore, iirc, that mages live longer than most on average. What I'm trying to say is that my man is going to live to be 110. Running circles around people half his age the entire time. He teaches until he's 90 and then he and a 70-year-old Rook go on the Thedas equivalent of one of those year-long cruises where they just go to a different major Thedosian city every week. Every year on his nameday he pats his grandchildren on the head and tells them that, while it may be his last birthday in the realm of the living, he's so glad he got to spend time with them. He gets weapy about it. He does this until said grandchildren are well into their twenties. Emmrich dies quickly without much malingering of some sort of fast illness, or maybe goes quietly and painlessly in his sleep, at WELL OVER 100, I cannot stress this enough, and then they pop him in his sarcophagus and his ghost haunts the Necropolis for a few years, unseen but felt by the sudden rushes of warmth and affection his family will sometimes feel on rainy days. Rook goes at a similarly advanged age and as the world fades out, Emmrich's face fades in--smiling, beautiful, looking exactly as he did when they met. Because Emmrich at 52 is in the prime of his life, goddamn it, and I will die on this hill.

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Just a sweet lil' angel baby

poor Manf only has so many feet to spare 😭

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If you've ever worried if your fanfic writing matters, just know that I have like.. 10 tabs of fiction I refresh every day to see if they've updated, and they have given me bits of serotonin on days where I was starved for it.

So, thanks for the joy <3

#fanfic #fanficreader #serotonin

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Ok but consider this: Fancy Mourn Watch ball/party/masquerade/whatever-the-fuck gathering of the edgelords Nevarran-style.

For some goddamn reason, Emmrich showed up looking like sin in a suit, and now Rook’s hand has transformed into a military-grade dick homing device.

A little dance? Hand. On. Dick. Chatting with colleagues? Oops, tragic accident, hand on dick. A little too much overpriced wine? Oh wow, would you look at that—hand? ON DICK.

It’s not even subtle. It’s a fucking occupation. His pants are being held hostage, and Rook’s hand is actively gerrymandering his self-control into oblivion. The fabric of his trousers is stretched to its absolute breaking point, and Emmrich is one more accidental brush away from having to either fuck her in a broom closet or die trying.

Eventually, Emmrich has to retreat, because whiskey dick can only hold the line for so long before all that hand action turns into a pants-ruining catastrophe and he really, really likes those pants. They’re expensive. They fit just right. They do not deserve to be baptized in a full-force, Rook-induced cum disaster.

The end.

Someone needs to write this because I need it shot directly into my fucking brain but refuse to lift a single finger.

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IVE BEEN JERKING IT TO VAMPIRES, THEYRE CALLING ME BRAM STROKER

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Your coworkers are the same type of freak wdyd

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Imagine you're Johanna Hezenkoss and your one goal in life is to Be Right All The Time and you've got this sidekick named Emmrich. He can do the whole corpse whispering thing and he's an objectively pretty skilled necromancer but, of course, YOU are Johanna Hezenkoss. And you decide that you like Emmrich enough to drag him along with you to glory. So you spend a few decades doing that. Only Emmrich is six and a half feet of saccharine poetry and fanatical devotion to the core tenants of the Mourn Watch and YOU, Johanna Hezenkoss, are just counting the moments until you can go Beast Mode in this bitch and show everyone what TRUE NECROMANTIC POWER means. So Emmrich weighs you down a bit but you're a little obsessed with him only because he's like. Real? That's a real dude? Saying that shit? Wild. Totally insane. He's like an annoying chattering dog who keeps all your secrets and makes the biggest saddest eyes at you when you say stuff like, "The world could be exactly what we want it to be. Aren't you MAD. Aren't you ANGRY at what they've taken from you. Don't you want to MAKE THEM SUFFER LIKE YOU'VE SUFFERED--"

Yeah. Whatever.

And then Emmrich betrays you because you're scaring him. SCARING him? After everything you've done for him? You were going to reinvent the world--you were going to put him at the top of it all so NOBODY could step on either of you ever again and now he's all, Oh Johanna, you're scaring me, this isn't what we believe in, you're letting your fear control you, blah blah BLAH he never shuts UP

Fear? FEAR, Volkarin? How fucking rich.

Then some stuff happens. Half lich 125 foot skeleton someone named Elgar'nan, maybe a God, who cares. You get so close--SO CLOSE--and then fucking Emmrich rolls in and this time he takes it ALL. Your power and your mortal life and your last remaining shreds of fucking credibility in this fucking world. And then he doesn't even have the basic fucking decency to say I Told You So. He keeps you on his desk like a tchochke and listens to you scream and spit and even THEN he doesn't do anything.

All the while he has his own sidekick now. Some vapid little thing always batting their eyelashes and paying Volkarin the kind of lip service that always distracted him, made his eyes go soft and his chin quiver. He's still such a weak man. You tell him so. You tell him and tell him and tell him until--

The sidekick disappears. Emmrich's eyes go empty and haunted in a way that makes you wonder what he's done to himself in his heartache and grief.

"Whoever did this to you," you tell him on the worst day, "You can make them pay. You're powerful enough. You defeated me." You being, of course, Johanna Balls of Steel fucking Hezenkoss.

"I just want them back," Emmrich admits. Because he's weak WEAK he's a weak man mewling pitifully in a dark room for his piece of ass while the moon rises red in the fucking sky and a God walks the earth.

"You have the power," you tell him. "When the world takes from you, you take those things back. This is what I've been telling you all these years, Volkarin. For once in your miserable life, LISTEN TO ME."

Finally, finally, Emmrich reacts. He screams. He throws a few books. He kicks his desk. Punches something, probably, because his knuckles start bleeding at some point. You watch it all with barely-contained glee. Anger, yes, fucking finally. You've been waiting your whole goddamn life for this man to realize how fucking ANGRY he is.

"How do I break into the fucking Fade?" He screams. He's not even looking at you. His hair is seven different kinds of fucked. His shirt is unbuttoned to the navel, and he's missing a boot.

"You could start by asking someone who's done it," you say. Emmrich turns, startled for some reason to hear you. Again you say, "Listen to me."

"Oh, Johanna," he sighs. "I've rarely done anything else."

It's not the words 'Thank you' or 'You're right'. It's certainly not lichdom or godhood or a 125 foot tall skeleton. But it's one point for Johanna Hezenkoss.

You'll make up the deficit eventually. Volkarin has a kid, after all.

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I wanted to try a young Emmrich based on this artwork...

Edit: I did this for fun this morning

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//The Echoes of the Dead Abide with Me\\

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Calling me out like that..

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my telenovela heart yearns for crownovela drama

part 1 (HERE) || part 2 || part 3 || part 4 - END

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ordinary love is boring, i want to be eaten alive by intimacy

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my muse

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hnnmg backk