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housedeaubemarle · 16 days

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A House Call

(written with @escherstrange-ffxiv, without whom none of this would have existed in the first place)

Followed by 'A House Call: Epilogue du Oudine'.

~*~

"Sydney should be here," Joshua grumbles, adjusting the cuffs of his sleeve.

"Probably for the best." Isillud thinks it wiser not to tell his younger brother of their brother's reply.

An hour ago:

Sydney's laugh was of a man who had suffered at the hands of House Aubemarle. It was long, sharp, and bitter. "HAHAHAHA good fucking luck," he said before the linkpearl fell silent.

Isillud's eyes narrowed at the fireplace, as if telepathically setting his brother on fire all the way at Radz-at-han. "Bitch."

"He could have given us some tips. I've never met the viscountess."

"Neither have I, Joshua." Isillud smooths his hair back, waiting for the door to open.

~*~

Marceaux, butler to House Aubemarle perhaps since the time of the Ancients, opens the door to two lanky Elezen gentlemen.

The eye first takes in an absurdly beautiful face on the right, accompanied by well-sculpted - youthful - features on the left. Another second of scanning addresses the similar bone structures, Duskwight skin, points of ears, and builds of the pair before him. Yet a third instant notes the ruffles of cravats and shirts, unobtrusive cufflinks and neatly pointed shoes, while filing away for future reference, certain wrinkles in cloth that either point to a household without laundry maids or worse: untrained servants.

“Our relatives, the Losstarots, are due tomorrow morning, Marceaux. We will not be home to anyone else till their visit is complete.”

“Very good, milady.”

He opens his mouth, just as the trained eye submits a fourth report: the pairs of eyes looking back at him - one impassive, one defiant - are shockingly green.

“Good morning, gentlemen. Whom may I say is calling?”

Joshua straightens his back, clearing his throat and whipping out a card in between his fingers. “Lord Joshua Losstarot and my brother, Isillud. We are here to meet with Viscount Aubemarle."

The card is a crisp white card printed only with his name and a coat of arms. He looks as dignified and lordly as a young man due to come of age in 3 days (figuratively) can be. Isillud simply nods and smiles at the butler.

Marceaux wordlessly and gingerly receives the tiny rectangle. He peers at it, absorbing that this is, in fact, the Lord Joshua Losstarot. Still holding the card respectfully in his gloved hands, he bows and moves aside to wave them through.

“Welcome, milords. If you would be so kind as to follow me, I will direct you to the Chantilly Room.”

He awaits acknowledgement of this, and at the briefest nod from Lord Joshua, neatly spins on his heel and walks down the hall at a moderate pace. He does not turn to see their reaction to the interior, though if one were to conduct an interview later, Marceaux would hardly dare suggest anything but satisfaction with the tasteful wallpaper of ivory striped with off-white, matching an elegant marble floor in swirling shades.

The door of the Chantilly Room opens to, indeed, cream-coloured curtains, off-white painted walls and carpets of a darker grey-blue. Within, on a low table opposite a pale blue sofa, sits a full tea set. Along the walls are ornaments of various styles and sizes on sturdy shelves, while two painted lacquer screens stand at a corner. A gilded wall mirror completes the furnishing.

“Please make yourself at home, milords.”

Marceaux waits for a count of five, trusting their lordships to seat themselves comfortably, before he closes the door with a quiet thud. From the corner of his eye, he sees the barest whisper of a skirt and hears a stifled giggle.

He represses a sigh - and the thought that Lord Joshua’s brother’s reputation precedes itself - before quickly heading upstairs.

~*~

Being away from Ishgard for five summers has dulled their aesthetics towards interior decoration. Joshua shifts his weight, rocking back and forth on his heels. "How long do we have to wait, Izzy?"

Isillud glances at the decor, taking in the details as he walks past the ornaments, mentally placing them in their possible places of origin. "You don't ask, Joshua. You just sit and look around. Gives you an idea of what to talk about." He peers at some. "Hingan teacup. Gyr Abanian charm. If they don't travel, their friends do."

"How do you know they didn't buy it?"

"You don't buy a single teacup, Joshua."

Joshua points to a row under the gilded mirror. "What about that miniature fan and those dancing figurines then? Took their friends long enough to realise what they liked?"

Isillud glances at the mirror, sighs, then sinks into the couch.

The wait isn’t as agonisingly long as Joshua anticipates. Barely two minutes after Isillud sits, the door opens again.

“Good morning, my lords.”

The woman offering her greetings is tall and fair, dressed in a blouse of soothing dusty blue with gauzy bishop sleeves, and black trousers. Waves of shiny, dark brown hair have been woven into neat braids, then pinned into a singular tidy bun; bangs frame either side of her face. Clear grey eyes crinkle above a pointed nose; lips coloured an inoffensive shade of cameo pink form a warm smile.

She stretches out a hand towards Joshua first, as is correct etiquette.

“I am Oudine de Aubemarle. I suppose we could be called cousins of sorts.”

Joshua straightens his jacket before taking Oudine's hand and barely touching his lips with it. "Joshua Lo-" he is interrupted by Isillud's cough. "-Joshua de Losstarot, a pleasure to meet you Viscount."

He steps aside for his brother. Compared to his, Isillud seems smoother, like he trained his entire youth for this moment.

"Milady." Isillud's baritone voice is like silk brushing across her hand. "Will your mother not be joining us?"

Oudine blinks. It hasn’t been that long since she’d received hand kisses as greetings, surely. Is she so accustomed to shaking hands on business that gallantry has become a surprise?

Focus, Oudine.

She keeps smiling. “She will, in just a moment. Her toilette requires a little more attention, seeing as the sons of her longtime connections are here.” Oudine gestures to the sofa. “Please, do sit. The staff will bring some light repast by and by, so we will have to contend with tea first. I hope red tea is to your taste.”

As her guests sit, and she picks up the teapot to pour, she continues. “If you don’t mind me saying so this quickly in your visit, hearing of your reinstatement was personally gratifying. I’m glad the Holy See is making what amends it can, though perhaps,” she looks up at them, noting the arresting green gazes of both brothers. “Such hurts will take a longer time to heal.”

"I shan't lie, it's equal parts relief and resentment," Joshua replies. "We can't even give a proper funeral for our parents and grandfather, but at least we have our home back." He shoots his brother a pointed look. "Not entirely, but I'll take what I can get."

Idillud picks up his teacup and inhales once before sipping. Leaning back against the sofa signals to Joshua he has no intention of carrying a conversation - he's only there to supervise the lord-in-training, nothing else - and so Joshua continues. "I do confess my surprise that you are the current viscount, milady." Joshua's voice is markedly younger, and with youth carries a tone of eagerness instead of nosiness. "I thought it would be your brother."

This is not a question Oudine has heard for a few years now. She takes a quick glance at Isillud, apparently absorbed in his tea. Is this the usual pattern? The older brother hanging back, the younger taking the lead? Then again, knowing what they do of Sydney, perhaps House Losstarot must needs rely on its youth. And youth, Oudine knows, requires training.

“I’m sorry to hear of your parents and grandfather. It is… difficult, when one does not have the chance to say the goodbyes one desires.”

She gestures invitingly to the sugar bowl, lifting its lid.

“As for Remont, let us just say it has long been an unspoken understanding in our family that birth is not necessarily the best judge of headship. My father’s passing was perhaps the culmination of that understanding.”

She smiles at the young man in front of her. For a moment, she remembers her younger brother as he had been ten years ago, though perhaps Joshua has more palpable vitality.

“I think, in that, we have something in common, Lord Joshua.”

“And what would that be, my love? Is the head of Losstarot too an insouciant younger brother?”

Oudine nearly drops the lid. She whips around to see the Dowager Viscountess herself standing in the doorway, attended by Marceaux. She is shorter than everyone present, but commands a presence that could even match the likes of Count Charlemend de Durendaire. Smooth, very pale blonde hair that borders on white is neatly put up. A wan but clearly inquisitive smile sits on her slightly wrinkled, but still clear, face, matched by a raised eyebrow. Two hands fold atop her cane, topped by a handle in the shape of a finely carved Hornbill head.

“Mother!”

The brothers stand and bow respectfully to the Dowager. “Viscountess," they greet, though only Joshua continues. "It is good to see you well." He keeps up the smile, waiting for the Dowager's response, while Isillud tugs his gloves up, checking that he is still wearing them.

The Dowager reaches out, not towards her visitors as Oudine had, but for her daughter. Marceaux has already melted away, shutting the door.

“Well as can be, praise unto the Fury,” she says with a sigh as Oudine dutifully takes her hand and escorts her eight steps forward to a sturdy chair near the sofa. “Remember not to get old, young men - it brings too many inconveniences.”

She sits, waving at them to do the same. Then silence falls, awkward and spiky, as the Dowager seems to read the Losstarots’ very souls.

“Hrrmph,” she says at last. “Whatever he believed, at least Cletienne's eyes outlived him. And you,” she nods at Isillud, “I see la incomparable again in your face, so clearly you have your mother to thank for your looks. Though your reputation is entirely your own.”

There is a slightly louder clink of porcelain, as Oudine turns from where she’s pouring a fourth cup of tea to give her mother an inscrutable look. The Dowager, sitting upright in her chair, returns an impassive glance, then turns back again to her guests.

“Well, Lord Joshua? You’ve not answered my question. Or perhaps I should seek answers from another authority on the subject, eh Lord Isillud?”

Isillud's cup rests on the saucer with another audible clink. He opens his mouth but nothing comes out from it; Joshua starts instead.

"Isillud is well aware that his reputation would not bode well for the house; hence why it was agreed upon that I should bear the title." The younger man flashes his brightest smile, "We are much alike in that we have overstepped our more-deserving siblings to wear our mantles, Viscount." His tone dances lightly over the sunbeams spilling through the windows.

Isillud doesn't look at the pair, merely smiles as the lanky man leans into the sofa, crossing his hands on his lap. "Hmph," he softly laughs, snow white eyelashes fluttering shut.

Joshua's shoulders relax, sloping just enough to be noticeable. "You must be curious about what we've been up to over the last five summers, we would be glad to indulge your questions."

The Dowager shows no sign of relenting. “Ah, so the answer is no. Insouciance isn’t quite the description. Dear heart,” she says, looking at Oudine who has continued to drop two lumps of sugar into the delicate cup she holds. “Your brother’s carelessness evidently is an idiosyncrasy of his own. You are to be sympathised with, it seems.”

Oudine mumbles a form of non-committal reply, simultaneously giving her mother tea, and delicately removing the walking stick for the old lady’s convenience.

Clearly, this was no longer the Viscount’s game. Though, to be fair, it hadn’t been from the moment she’d handed her mother the Losstarots’ formal letter of introduction a few weeks ago. Oudine glances again at Isillud, looking for some kind of solidarity between older siblings.

There is none to be found. The older brother appears to be fully meditating on the merits of some otherworldly matter. It is a shame, thinks Oudine, she can’t bring herself to do the same since her mother has started speaking to Lord Joshua again.

“Is there possibly anything more dramatic than the antics of the Warrior of Light and the Scions?” asks the Dowager, carefully stirring her cup. “Did you too ride a dragon overhead into Ishgard, guns a-blazing so to speak? Do tell us from the beginning; we are all attention, Lord Joshua.”

Joshua's laugh isn't of a carefree boy - courtesy and restraint swaddle it. "If there are I'm afraid I wasn't privy to it. My story is simpler than that: Taken under the wing of a trader, I simply learned the ropes of her business. Aside from the usual cargo she offered safe passages to refugees seeking to flee the Garlean occupation, when she abandoned it after Ala Mhigo and Doma's liberation I simply abided by her decision. There are other trade avenues to pursue after all." Joshua is less careful with his tea, even a tiny slurp echoes in the room. "Crude, but it pays the bills for now."

Isillud leans forward, nudging his cup towards Oudine. "May I have more tea, milady?" When she refills his cup, slender gloved fingers brush against hers when he lifts his cup.

"Joshua needs to learn. He will be fine. Breathe easy, cousin." Emerald irises rise to her eyes, almost glowing with a divinity that vouches for him.

His cousin wonders when he had the capacity to notice her unspoken pleas for help. She decides to question it later. The intense gaze and silken touch on the hand are distractions enough (and suddenly, Oudine reaches a deeper understanding with her brother).

“If it’s learning you both sought here, then you won’t leave disappointed,” she murmurs in reply, though as she returns to stand behind her mother’s chair, her posture is slightly more at ease.

The Dowager on the other hand, sips calmly as Joshua recites the undoubtedly summarised adventures of five years.

“My, my. Refugees from the Garlean occupation, Ala Mhigo and Doma. Your youth belies your profound experiences, young man. And the delicacy you’ve offered in your storytelling is appreciated but unnecessary.” Her dark brown eyes go straight through Joshua. “Pray tell what your trade entails currently. Aubemarle claims acquaintance with any number of lesser houses that deal in commerce, though we ourselves do not have such businesses.”

Behind her, her daughter quietly shifts her weight; the ease dissolves from Oudine’s spine.

Joshua's smile tightens, eyes set straight at the Dowager. He clears his throat.

"A variety of merchandise from the east. Thavnair, Garlemald, Dalmasca even. The trade routes are perilous and there is no shortage of demand from these nations." Sip. "I simply bring people what they want for a fee, I should be glad to give you our current catalogue should you wish." The legal catalogue is what goes unsaid in his explanation.

The Dowager tilts her head slightly. “‘Bringing people what they want for a fee’. What a simple explanation it is. Have you considered a different career, Lord Joshua? Perhaps a writer for one of our illustrious newspapers? Some of their pieces are so concise, they do the exact opposite of their express purpose: to inform the public. You would do perfectly, I shouldn’t wonder.”

A knock on the door interrupts the plummeting social temperature of the room. Marceaux silently glides in, bearing a tray full of small plates. Upon them are refreshments suited for a mid-morning interlude with distinguished guests: pastries that do not flake, but can be savoured in two bites, eclairs that aren’t overfilled so as not to embarrass enthusiastic eaters, finger sandwiches that make for dignified chewing.

(Thank the Fury for small mercies, thinks Oudine.)

The butler sets the silver tray down, right beside the teapot. The Dowager’s nod sends him gliding back out of the room.

“Do help yourselves, my lords,” says the Dowager smoothly.

Joshua laughs but the heat within tightens around his gut. He's running out of options to please her, and a choice reply remains at the tip of his tongue only because Isillud would likely kick him off the sofa if he said it. The introduction of desserts has done nothing for him, for he is mentally flipping through a notebook about what to do during social situations like this. Unfortunately, the book is still fresh and blank.

He turns to his brother only for him to notice two things: Firstly, Isillud has seen Marceaux. Secondly, the glint in Isillud's eye.

No, oh no you don't-

Isillud doesn't take his eyes away from the door long after the butler has left. He plucks an eclair from the plate and without so much as looking at what he's doing, places it at his lips and sucks the cream from the hole with no pretense what's on his mind.

Joshua's world crumples in on itself. If Isillud does not hide what's on his mind, neither does Joshua with a mortified expression on his face. He does the first thing he can think of to snap his brother out of his reverie: he elbows him really hard in the ribs. It works - Isillud jolts back to the room, blinking innocently at Joshua.

"What?"

Oudine de Aubemarle, with the seasoned practice of someone who has been trained to ignore that which couldn’t possibly have occurred in the drawing room of a highborn Ishgardian house, immediately speaks in her modulated, pleasant tone.

“It is good, isn’t it? Though he is our own cook, I must personally recommend Mr Ofanleitasyn’s creations. Lord Joshua, perhaps you might like to try a sandwich.”

She walks forward swiftly, picking up one of each kind to place on a small plate, then turns back around to the Dowager.

“I myself requested Cook to prepare these, Mother. They’re your particular favourites after all.”

The Dowager’s lips had already parted, perhaps to deliver a homily against the obvious dereliction of the world outside Ishgard and its regrettable influence on wayward young men. Something in the look she receives - hidden from view of the Losstarots - makes her put her lips back together and nod.

“Thank you, my pet. Such thoughtfulness,” she says, and even gently pats the Viscount on the cheek.

Oudine turns back, places two small sandwiches on a plate and offers it to Joshua. The smile that accompanies it, she hopes, would read as an apology and encouragement.

He must and will learn, yes, but the older sister in her cannot help herself.

Joshua whips over to the plate of sandwiches. He opens and closes his mouth a few times before mustering weakly, "Y...yes, thank you." He shoves a sandwich into his mouth, breathing heavily through his nose. If he cannot say anything he might as well have something in his mouth for it.

A second of watching his brother's reaction later, Isillud shrugs and takes a dainty bite from his eclair. "A Roegadyn, then? How long has he been in service?"

“Oh, ever since I can remember, quite frankly,” says the Viscount. She looks to her mother, who hands the younger noble her still-full cup of tea. Oudine silently puts it back on the low table, and proceeds to pour a fresh, hot cup.

“Mr Ofanleitasyn has been with us these last 30 years or so. One of my late husband’s many flashes of brilliance,” says the Dowager, the tone just ever so slightly more conciliatory. “He may be a Roegadyn, but his abilities produce thoroughly Ishgardian fare.”

The dark brown eyes of the lady gleam as she continues with, “If memory serves, your mother quite enjoyed a variant of Dzemael Gratin he made once in the past. I believe she was carrying your eldest brother at the time, and so could not attend one of our dinners. Seeing as it was her first pregnancy, she could not help but be cautious. We had a dish delivered over to her, and she returned a most gracious note of thanks.” She pauses a moment. “La Incomparable had excellent taste.”

The Dowager receives the new cup of tea from her daughter with an arched eyebrow. There. Happy? It seems to say.

Yes, returns the answering smile of Oudine.

Chewing slowly, Joshua blinks at the story. "Huh, I didn't know that. Did you know that, Izzy?"

Isillud doesn't answer; he narrows his eyes at the Dowager, lips thinned into a single line. Her words have stirred him though he clenches his fists and says nothing.

It felt like a slap, that this woman of distant relation would have a vivid story to tell of their mother. A reminder of their place: If only she knew what has become of her children. One a swindler, the other a harlot. And you dare show your face around Ishgard? For shame.

Isillud finishes his eclair and wipes his fingers on a handkerchief. "Come, Joshua. We have tarried enough."

"Huh? But we just started-" The look on his brother's face shuts him up. "Thank you for your hospitality. It was a pleasure meeting you both, we shall call upon your house in the near future."

He gives a quick bow and jogs after Isillud, who doesn't even bother with niceties as he heads for the door.

The Dowager silently watches the rapid departure of both young men with unexpected calmness, even having the presence of mind to set her teacup down on the table.

Beside her, Oudine is less able to control herself. “What-”

“Oudine.”

She looks at the Dowager, surprise - and since they’re alone, some hurt - in her face. “Mamma?”

The old lady reaches out, and instinctively, her daughter clasps her hand.

“I know I promised never to interfere in your dealings as Viscount. But I ask you to trust me when I tell you: do not run out to seek an explanation from them, at least for the present. Will you, dearest?”

Oudine purses her lips. Part of her is itching to do exactly that - to demand an answer, if not resolution, for this abrupt end to a visit she had had every intention of helping along. People she trusted had warned her, gently, about the possibility of these being impostors, of interlopers stealing the noble name of Losstarot, and the resulting connection to the Aubemarles. They had asked her to be extra cautious, knowing that the current Viscount de Aubemarle was inclined to see the better side of others, sometimes wishing to be right, rather than knowing she was right. She had wanted, dearly, to prove them wrong, to be able to say - firmly - that the new head of Losstarot is genuine, and that their claims are true. She still does.

The other part - the one which has seen her mother work what could only be magic on the dizzying social circles of Ishgard’s lesser houses, which has witnessed the Dowager Viscountess call on, and call out, rival houses no less powerful or influential than they, without batting an eyelash - makes her grip her mother’s hand tighter.

Finally, she asks, almost demands. “Did you tell that story of their mother on purpose? Did you aim at Lord Isillud?” Neither woman hears the front door of the house slam shut. The rooms are too well-built.

“If I aim at anything, which I will pretend to understand for the moment, logic dictates I ought to aim at the head sitting right before me,” says the Dowager. “No, dearest. My intention had been to give those boys a memory they could not have had; a keepsake now that they must step into their elders’ shoes.”

She looks back at the yawning doorway of the Chantilly Room.

“I forget that the young - especially young, “resentful” prodigals - may not look as kindly on memories as those of my age.”

After a moment, the old lady frowns. “House de Aubemarle can only claim to be far relations. There are others who are closer cousins, in higher places, and with even more accounts of the Losstarots as they once were. Lord Isillud will need stronger armour. And more flesh on his bones, if he intends to remain in this city.”

Oudine cannot help wanting a complete diagnosis. “And Lord Joshua needs…?”

Her mother snorts. “Time. And more polish in his address.”

Oudine shakes her head, before realising what the Dowager had said. She takes in a deep breath, releases it. “You were listening outside the door when I first entered the room, weren’t you?”

The Dowager makes no answer, merely returning the grip on her daughter’s hand. The Viscount can only sigh, and finally sits down for the first time since she’d welcomed the Losstarots to their home.

Still clinging to her mother’s hand, she says consideringly, “You believe them to be real then. They are the long-lost Losstarot sons, now returned.”

The Dowager looks surprised. “Of course, dear heart. No charlatan worth their salt would have stormed out so violently.”

A wave of tired regret washes over Oudine and she closes her eyes. “Then we have given offence to our own. And it involves their mother.” She opens them again to stare at the ceiling. “How on earth can we make amends?”

“My sweet girl, ever forgiving. Thus is the discourtesy already forgotten.”

Oudine lets herself frown, obviously and deeply frustrated, at her mother. It’s been a very long morning, no matter that the fiasco had really only lasted for all of fifteen minutes or less.

The Dowager smiles. “You are Viscount de Aubemarle. You will think of something. Besides,” she nods at her daughter. “You have their calling card, do you not?”

Oudine slips her free hand (it’s also annoying how she doesn’t even want to let go of her mother, despite everything) into a trouser pocket. She pulls out the innocuous white card Marceaux had given her, and stares at it.

“...hmm.”

As the Viscount thinks and plans, the Dowager leans forward towards the table. She picks up an eclair, snorts at a thought that has just occurred to her, and takes a delicate bite.

~*~

It is three days later, when there is a knock on the door of the Losstarots’ residence.

Ser Drouhont, Temple Knight-turned-steward, all of 7 fulms (possibly more) and pitch black skin opens the door. "Good morning. Whom shall I say is calling?" The wind whips his long hair about, thankfully long and heavy enough that it doesn't obscure his face.

Before this very impressive figure stand two Elezens, both in the livery of House Aubemarle. The darker skinned one wearing a small pair of gold-rimmed glasses on his face bows respectfully. The grace of his movement is unhampered by the neatly wrapped parcel in his arms. Beside him, a very lovely black-haired maid with dark eyes dips in a polite curtsey, a clearly laden basket despite its cloth covering, in hand.

“No one, sir. We are only here to present my lady Viscount Aubemarle’s compliments, and seek your goodness to deliver them to your master,” says the bespectacled footman in an even tone.

"My masters are unfortunately currently indisposed, but I would be glad to hand it over to them."

The footman bows again. “Thank you, we are most obliged.” He offers the brown paper parcel, secured by twine, to the steward first, before taking the basket from his colleague to hand it over as well. “Good morning to you,” he says with a last bow. The maid curtsies and follows the footman’s lead to go.

They’ve only gone a few steps when, right before Ser Drouhont closes the door, the maid turns back to call out with a brilliant smile: “Don’t ignore the box at least! It’d be a terrible waste!”

Drouhont hooks the basket on the crook of his arm, watching the servants leave with a confused look on his face. Within the house, Joshua leans over the banister halfway down the stairs. "Who was it?"

"Compliments from House Aubemarle with a reminder to not ignore the box." He looks at the twine-wrapped parcel with the same impassive face and flat tone. "T'would be a waste to do so."

That makes the younger elezen curious enough to take the parcel off Drouhont's hands and set it on the dining table. Drouhont puts the basket nearby, turning the cloth over to reveal its contents.

"Let's see what we have here…" Joshua muses, unfolding a blade from a pocket and starts cutting the twine.

"Oh-"

Joshua stops. "What?"

"Twine can be reused…I could use it to wrap my paintings…"

Joshua simply stares at his steward. He should be used to the man's airy comments by now but he was unpredictable when he wanted to. He shakes his head and continues demolishing the wrapper to get at the contents within.

Brown paper crinkles and rustles, falling away to reveal a perfectly square but good-sized, black, lacquered box. On its lid, a spray of flowers blooming from a shapely bough, made of inlaid mother-of-pearl, grows from the bottom corner. Closer inspection easily reveals that the box is made up of three layers and the mild sweet fragrance of baked goods begins to waft upwards. A thick looking packet sits against the box, along with a thinner, lighter envelope. On both, small wax seals, no doubt from a signet ring, bear the crest of House Aubemarle.

In the basket’s case, its contents are less enigmatic. Fresh fruit of various kinds sit within: Coerthan and mirror apples, La Noscean oranges, Lowland grapes, Pixie plums, even a few lemonettes. There is also a singular pineapple, most of its spiky crown carefully cut off for convenience. In the midst of such vibrant colours, the stark white of a small card stands out.

Not even Joshua can resist the allure of freshly baked goods. "She wasn't kidding about her cook," he says as he picks up the packet and envelope, using the blade to pry the seal open.

Meanwhile Drouhont removes the fruit from the basket and sorts it into an artful arrangement, mumbling to himself, "A fine still-life subject for a painting…Master Joshua, there is a card inside here too." He passes the card firmly held between his fingers to his lord, who now has three things to read.

The thin envelope contains a single-sided letter with the crest of House Aubemarle emblazoned in the top centre of the page. In other words, the official letterhead of the Viscount. The handwriting beneath is neat and evenly spaced, flowing in black ink.

To Lord Joshua de Losstarot, head of House Losstarot, & Lord Isillud de Losstarot,

I give greeting to my cousins both, and present our apologies for this late letter.

To come straight to the point, we ask forgiveness for treading upon sacred ground without care. While it is not lost upon us how hollow that may ring after what has transpired, please believe that it is meant sincerely.

What we should have conveyed that day, but did not, is simply this: words do not suffice for how your house has suffered great losses, in many respects. House de Aubemarle has no power to bring back what was, but we will assist - if you are willing, and should need it - in building what will be. The accompaniments to this letter are more concrete tokens of our friendship.

I hope we shall meet again in future, in more fortuitous circumstances. Belatedly, and truly, we welcome our cousins Losstarot back to Ishgard.

Yours sincerely,

Oudine de Aubemarle, Viscount Aubemarle.

Out of the thicker packet comes a small collection of papers and stiffer cards of varying sizes.

One of the cards is an elegantly decorated invitation. The space for recipients has been filled in by hand: Lord Joshua de Losstarot and Lord Isillud de Losstarot are requested for the pleasure of their company at a formal ball at the mansion of House Maintigny in a month’s time. Lady Oisinne de Maintigny is to be addressed should they accept or decline the invitation.

Yet another invitation, on a marginally smaller card but no less elegant, also requests the pleasure of the lords Losstarot’s company, this time at a musical concert, intended to showcase the talents of the newest protege of the Dowager Viscountess Philomene de Aubemarle. It is to be held at the Saint Llafymae Rooms in a fortnight, with acceptances or declines to be addressed to her ladyship at the Aubemarle manor.

Much smaller in size are four narrow tickets. Identically printed on them are admittances to the latest theatrical sensation of Ishgard, Cant and Candour. The tickets read that they are specifically for box seats on any night while the play is performed.

A folded note comes next, unsealed, so it can be opened to read, in the same ink and handwriting as in the longer letter: ‘The Viscount Aubemarle presents her compliments to the manager of the Lightfeather Proving Grounds, and with great pleasure, wishes to make known to your goodself my lords Losstarot, newly returned to Ishgard. Kindly make them welcome at the usual box whensoever they desire.’

Yet another sheet of paper similar in thickness to the note contains the simple name and address of Etoilier at the very top. Underneath the letterhead is a message from its proprietress who is delighted to know that their chance meetings in the past could be continued in a more formal fashion. Etoile Wintour reassures her lordships that new suits will be ready in good time before the Maintigny ball, and invites them both for fittings in three weeks. Though there is not much fear there since she already has their precise measurements. She presents her compliments and looks forward to their appointments.

And lastly, the smallest of the ‘accompaniments’ is a white business card. Upon it is printed ‘Marlstone Chocobos’ with an address in Ishgard below it, and another address in Tailfeather on a third line. Flexing it under the light reveals an embossed off-white crest in the upper right corner, that of House de Aubemarle. When turned over, there is a third handwritten message, in the same neat handwriting and the same black ink:

For any reason, if you are ever in need of a fast bird, bring this to the Marlstone office here. If in Dravania, seek out Remont. You will be given one of our finest, no questions asked, no charge. - O.A.

Once the detailed contents of the packet are perused, the last small card from the fruit basket is almost comical in its simplicity. The writing is in brown ink, and a cursive script far different from all the handwriting earlier. The message is brief:

You’ve only just begun. Eat, then fight.

Joshua shuffles through the cards growing increasingly perplexed. "Oh gods, there are so many events; do these people not do anything except socialize?!"

"That is indeed what they do, Master Joshua," Drouhont answers, carefully stacking the apples into a 3D pyramid. "Networking is very important in Ishgardian high society if you wish to remain relevant. Even a soldier of middling rank is expected to be present at the Forgotten Knight once a week at least."

"Drouhont, I can't attend all these on my own." He fans out the theatre tickets. "There are four tickets here and I don't appreciate music as much as…" His eyes follow the stairs, "Him."

"It matters not which Losstarot attends…only that one does." Drouhont frames his arrangement with his fingers, moving a fruit an ilm to the right to adjust.

"In case you have forgotten," Joshua's voice rises. "The other Losstarot is currently drowning in self-pity with only a blanket to maintain his modesty."

"You seem certain he'll always be crushed by the weight of the expectations he's failed, milord."

The younger elezen sighs, turning his attention to the box. He opens each tray to find out what's inside.

The first layer is a jigsaw puzzle of pastries: danishes, butter croissants, apple tarts, jam tarts, even a fig pastry or two to complete the picture. All have been made specially to fit the size of the box, and to be eaten in a single bite.

The second layer opens up to heavier stuff: currant scones give off a delightful scent of butter and sugar; slices of mille-feuille are artfully dusted with fine sugar and cocoa powder; a row of simple pain au chocolat sits with gleaming golden-brown skins.

The third and last layer is filled with nothing but eclairs, covered in chocolate icing.

Joshua twitches visibly at the tray of eclairs; he considers pushing it aside and bringing up only the first layers but changes his mind and slots the small card from the fruit basket among the eclairs before closing it up and lugging it upstairs. "Drouhont, bring the fruits up- on second thought, do as you like with those."

He kicks the door open; the crow roosting at Isillud's head caws in surprise and hops up to the headboard. Etienne turns and raises his eyebrow just slightly. Joshua Losstarot puts the box loudly on the side table and roughly yanks his brother's shoulder over to face him.

"Wake up, Izzy. You have a society to impress."

Isillud stares blankly through dull green eyes. Joshua removes the last tray and puts it in front of him. "See this? The dowager acknowledges you. Mother would've been proud." The crow tilts its head at the baked delicacies, plucking an eclair and gliding over to Etienne's work desk to pass to him.

Joshua grips his brother's chin between his fingers; the Fury lives in his voice, in the determination writ across his face. "You want expectations to live up to? Live up to the lord of House Losstarot's. Live up to mine."

╔═════ஓ๑♥๑ஓ═════╗

end

╚═════ஓ๑♥๑ஓ═════╝

#ffxiv oc #isillud losstarot #joshua treegarden #oudine de aubemarle #philomene de aubemarle #ffxiv RP #ffxiv oc lore #poor dear Oudine #she tries very hard

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theidiotwhowritesthings · 9 months

Note

Hello lovely?

No pressure busy girl, but did you have a small idea as to when we might be getting a new AFS chapter?

I miss them x

Hope you're taking care of yourself and are staying healthy!

busted IT'S SO FUNNY YOU ASK HAHAHAHA

Literally 10 seconds before I opened this ask I was laying in bed thinking "son of a bitch I seriously need to get back to AFS soon I hope my Joel Miller smokescreen is working and nobody has noticed a missing mass of beskar metal."

IN MY (poor) DEFENSE, Din Djarin is being a real pain in my ass as of late lolol. It's like he's mad at me for doing so much with Joel Miller and now he's throwing a tantrum because his voice will not flow. Which is a bummer for multiple reasons one of which being, I feel like he's the voice I do best of the Pedro gang? I have these characters that once I start writing for them magic happens in my brain like Tony Stark, Dean Winchester, Daryl Dixon, Bucky Barnes (there is a trend amongst those characters and a psychological reason I'm so good at writing for them therapy is too expensive for me so we're gonna blatantly ignore that) and Din Djarin made it to the hall of fame! So, the fact that I'm now having such difficulty with getting him on paper frustrates me.

Honestly, I might just have to chain myself to a table and break my 'no forcing the writing' rule in hopes that it kick starts something. I'm in a coffee shop all day today so wish me luck.

But, thank you so much for the well wishes! You, and all the people in my inbox asking about our favorite Mandalorian, mean so much to me and I honestly need the constant reminder that people are still waiting for AFS. In two weeks, I start my descent into hell working in the hospital instead of the office and it's going to wreck my ass I just know it so I'm gonna try and get AFS out before then!!

[good news, I got two things done this weekend and TCOY was a big one!! The other was an additional 20k words on my original work which is less exciting since it definitely took away from Din Djarin time but it did make me happy😌]

#feel free to ask me about anything!!#asks #a fresh start #din djarin

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ladyimaginarium · 1 year

Text

when ethel cain said "i always knew that in the end, no one was coming to save me, so i just prayed and i keep praying and praying" & "god loves you but not enough to save you" & "so, baby girl, good luck taking care of yourself" & "god doesn't love you, not like i do" & "you and me against the world [...] we had nothing but each other, you were my whole world" & "your mama calls me sometimes to see if i'm doing well and i'd lie to her and say that i'm doing fine when, really, i'd kill myself to hold you one more time, and it hurts to miss you but it's worse to know that i'm the reason you won't come home" & "you know, i still wait at the edge of town, praying straight to god that maybe you'll come back around, i cry everyday and the bottles make it worse 'cause you were the only one i was never scared to tell i hurt [...] and you might never come back home, and i may never sleep at night, but god, i hope you're doing fine out there, i just pray that you're alright, and i feel so alone, and i feel so alone out here [...] and i feel so alone without you, i'm so alone" & "i'd hold the gun if you asked me to, but if you love me like you say you do, would you ask me to?" & "i tried to be good, am i no good, am i no good, am i no good?" & "i just wanted to be yours, can i be yours, can i be yours, can i be yours?" & "but in these motel rooms, i started to see you differently, 'cause for the first time since i was a child, i could see a man who wasn't angry" & "i thought good guys get to be happy, i'm not happy, i am poison in the water and unhappy" & then "preacher's saying god will save me, if god is real, he's a fucking bitch" & "i didn't ask to be this crazy but since we're here, i'll give them a show" & "if you try to hurt me, i won't stop you, but there's something you should know, it's that my daddy's fucking crazy and always ready to blow" & "the first boy i ever loved was a brother i never had, i thought, with him, maybe i'd make it, maybe it'd be half as bad, spent my night under the covers just wishing he was there, draw his portrait in my diary just to hold when i got scared, now i'm fucked up and i'm nasty, but they say i make it look good" & "what's gonna scare me when i've seen it all? [...] if i can't live, can i just fucking die?" & "am i not good enough for you? is there something wrong with me? baby, don't you lie to me, am i just not what you want? am i just not what you need? is there someone in your heart that keeps you gone away from me? is she prettier than me? is her skin softer than mine? can she give you what i can't? the thing i cry for every night?" & "i think about you everyday, 'cause i love you more than i thought i could [...] 'cause i don't hate you like i know i should, was i not good enough for you? was there something wrong with me? i just cry by myself at night but you'll never know and you'll never see" & "sometimes you make me wanna put my fucking head through the wall, sometimes i wonder if i ever even knew you at all" & "and we've been cursed since the start, jesus didn't want us [...] and fuck the cops and fuck god and fuck this town for ruining us" & "in the corner, on my birthday, you watched me dancing right there in the grass, i was too young to know that some types of love could be bad" & "you poor thing, sweet mourning lamb, there's nothing you can do, it's already been done" & "bless the children, each and every one come to know their god through some senseless act of violence" & "stop, stop, stop, make it stop, stop, make it stop, make it stop, i've had enough" & "i am the face of love's rage" & "and i spend my life watching it go by from the sidelines, and, god, i've tried, but i think it's about time i put up a fight" & "i forgive it all as it comes back to me" & "dancing with the windows open, i can't let go when something's broken, it's all i know, and it's all i want now" i& just. okayokayokayokay okay yeah alright hahahaha lmaoooo im& totally fine i& just

#arcana.txt #tw; long post #& 'THE FATES ALREADY FUCKED ME SIDEWAYS SWINGING FROM MY NECK FROM THE FAMILY TREE [...] THEN LEAVE ME HANGING SO THEY ALL CAN LAUGH AT ME'#''YOU NEED TIME I KNOW BUT JESUS IS THIS ALL YOU THINK OF ME? A PORTRAIT OF MY L.OVE IN ALL W.HITE AND ON HER KNEES?''#''STRANGERS TOUCH ME IN MY D.REAMS IF I GO TO BED SOBER WHEN THE CURTAINS TURN W.HITE I'LL KNOW THAT ITS OVER''#''YOU DONT KNOW WHAT ITS LIKE TRYING TO LOVE WHILE YOU HEAL & YOU DONT GET TO PREACH IF YOU DONT KNOW HOW IT FEELS TO HAVE EVERY LAST INCH+#OF YOUR BODY INVADED LIKE I DO'' & ''WOKE UP A SAINT & FELL ASLEEP A MARTYR WOULD YOU DO THE SAME THINGS TO YOUR OWN DAUGHTER?''#& ''DOES GOD MAKE DELICATE THINGS JUST TO WATCH THEM GET HURT?''#LIKE ... MAN MAMA CAIN DIDNT HAVE TO EXPOSE ME& LIKE THAT😭

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wooziswonderfulworld · 2 years

Text

4Town variety show

WHATS UP 4TOWN

Season 1, Episode 1: Run 4Town Run

———Theme Song———

Aaron T: HELLO EVERYONE WELCOME TO THE FIRST EVER EPISODE OF WHATS UP 4TOWN!!! WOOHOO!!!

Other members: yay!!

Aaron T: I’m your host today, Aye Aye Ron Tee

Aaron Z: what the fuck…?

Jesse: No swearing!

Aaron Z: what the frick

Jesse: you’re on thin fucking ice buddy-wait-

Aaron T: HAHAHAHAH anyways let me tell you all what we’re doing today

Robaire: yea please do you’re taking to long 😒

Aaron T: shut up Robaire no one asked you! Anyways today we will be doing an obstacle course!!

Tae Young: really? It was pretty hard to tell from the giant ass inflatable obstacle course next to us

Aaron T: thank you Tae Tae for your sarcasm, just for that I’m making you go first 🫶

Tae Young: ….🖕

Aaron T: there won’t be any teams because there are only five of us booooooooooo

Aaron Z: is there anything else? 🤨

Aaron T: yes future husband there is! 😁

Aaron Z: 😳🫣

Aaron T: before starting, everyone must set a time goal for themselves, finish at that time or beat it will get a special surprise 😄👍

Aaron T: alright Jesse, what’s your goal

Jesse: Um….two minutes?

Tae Young: old 🤭

Jesse: fuck off 🖕😔🖕

Robaire: my goal is 40 seconds

Aaron Z: mine is 27 seconds, motherfucker Imma get that special surprise

Robaire: like hell you are! I changed my mind, my goal is 26 seconds now

Aaron T: Alright! And Tae Young

Tae Young: um….60 seconds! ☺️

Aaron T: my goal is 45 seconds! No wait, 35 seconds!

Jesse: what’s the surprise?

Aaron T: it’s not a surprise if I tell you silly!!

*after some stretching*

Aaron T: alright Tae Young, Are you ready!?

Tae Young: oh wait I’m actually going first okay, do I keep my shoes on or off?

Aaron T: whatever makes you happy!

Tae Young: *gets to the starting line*

Aaron T: Your 60 second timer starts in 3, 2, 1-GO!

Tae Young: *immediately trips over the first obstacle and face plants*

Aaron T and Robaire: HAHAHAHA-sorry 🤣

Tae Young: *gets up and continues*

Aaron T: Yeah go Tae Young!!

Tae Young: *hops over inflatable fence*

Aaron Z: the bitch went boing

Aaron T: PFFT BOING YOURE SO FUNNY

Tae Young: *exhausted* how-*pant* long- *pant* is-*pant* - this thing 😫

Aaron Z: Damn, good luck old man

Jesse: *groans*

Tae Young: *finishes the course*

Aaron T: ooooo unfortunately Tae you did not make it nor beat your 60 second goal. But can you tell us how you feel right now?

Tae Young: like death

Aaron T: thank you! Jesse you’re up next!

Robaire: don’t break anything

Jesse: haha very fun.

Aaron T: alright Jesse, your 2 minute timer starts in 3,2,1-GO

Jesse: *shoots off like a bullet*

Everyone: What the hell!?

Jesse: *jumping and sliding over and under obstacles with a look of determination on his face*

Aaron Z: THAT BITCH IS MOVING GOD DAMN-

Aaron T: YEAH GO JESSE!!!

Jesse: *makes it to the finish line quicker then anyone expected* did-did I do it?

Aaron T: Yeah you did! 23 seconds holy shit how did you do it?

Jesse: I imagine my kids where at the end of the course and needed my help

Aaron Z: of course he did

Robaire: who cares, I’m still going to beat you

Aaron Z: yeah right!

—-PART TWO COMING SOON——

#turning red 4town #4town fanfic #4town headcanons #4town jesse #4town robaire #4town aaron z #4town aaron t #4town taeyoung

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watchingspnagain · 2 years

Text

Rewatching Bad Day at Black Rock

Welcome to “*pets everything*: A Supernatural Rewatch Blog” with Lor and Mace!

Up today, s3e3: Bad Day at Black Rock

The boys discover that John had a storage unit they didn't know anything about, and someone has broken into it. When they track down the someones, they find that the stolen object is a lucky rabbit's foot, but you're only lucky while you possess it; once you lose it, your luck turns very, very southerly. This episode is their first encounter with the thief, Bella, who tricks the boys so badly Dean feels the need to shout "SON OF A BITCH" very, very loudly. It's one of the best of the goofball episodes, and we get to see Jared stretch his funny acting muscles a bit more than usual. It's a real treat!

Below is a log of our real-time reactions as we watched. Remember that there may be spoilers for any part of SPN’s 15-season run here. Note also that the nature of our conversation is adult and thus it may contain adult language and themes.

[and we begin:]

Mace:

ugh gordon

Lor:

i was JUST gonna say just that

Mace:

Lor:

oh he will, Gordon. he has. that fixes nothing, honey

Mace:

YEP

Lor:

aw the fraught brothers

Mace:

YAS

Lor:

gosh Sam switches to smarty handling the cold call so QUICK

Mace:

HE DOES

Mace:

OMG IS THIS THE I’M BATMAN ONE?!?!

Lor:

um, excuse, Gordon is NOT the best. there's at LEAST four people in front of him

Lor:

it IS

Mace:

YAAAAS

Mace:

“don’t play with my Jesus” HAHAHA

Lor:

and these too chuckheads crack me up

Lor:

YES!

Mace:

YES

Lor:

they are TRACKERS I LOVE THEM

Lor:

(also, just for the record: fuck John)

Mace:

oh god the trophy

Mace:

(YAS)

Lor:

YES

Mace:

Sam got to play soccer, and Dean got to make a sawed off shotgun

Lor:

RIGHT?

Lor:

wraps Dean in blankets. tells him to hush when he fusses about it

Mace:

YEP

Mace:

EDITING

Lor:

"kinda like the pandora deal" yeah, sure, Dean, you don't read. pets him

Lor:

YES

Lor:

"Grossman."

Lor:

these two too

Mace:

he’s not reading the right things. IT’S A JAR NOT A BOX

Mace:

YES

Lor:

I have said it before and I will say it again: the guest stars on SPN are amazing

Mace:

YEP

Lor:

he read a bad translation

Lor:

"IT'S A RABBIT'S FOOT, GROSSMAN"

Mace:

HAHAHA

Lor:

"not to be a drag or nothing"

Mace:

Lor:

dean's little singsong on “security camera”

Mace:

YAS

Mace:

i LOVE the music in this one

Lor:

YES

Lor:

omg their faces

Mace:

YAS

Mace:

oh Sammy, don’t touch it

Lor:

silly boy

Mace:

yeah

Mace:

omg the way Sam looks at the gun

Lor:

the PRAT FALLS

Mace:

YAS

Lor:

YES

Lor:

"is that a rabbit's foot?" "I think it is"

Lor:

BIGGERSONS

Mace:

YAS

Lor:

"my gun don't jam"

Mace:

no it doesn’t

Lor:

not the way he takes care of it

Mace:

Dean, honey, you KNOW better of COURSE it’s cursed

Lor:

Dean's WHOOO

Lor:

RIGHT?

Lor:

pets optimistic Dean

Mace:

oh god, this really gross scene

Lor:

YEP

Lor:

one of the worst

Lor:

partly because it is SO TELEGRAPHED

Mace:

WHO PUTS THE FORK LIKE THAT

Mace:

YEP

Lor:

CHUCKLEHEADS, that's who

Mace:

UGHUGHUGH

Lor:

NOPENOPENOPE

Mace:

poor grossman

Lor:

and the squish

Mace:

“DAMMIT SAM”

Lor:

yeah

Mace:

oh yes ew

Lor:

lololol

Lor:

WAY TO TELL YOUR SONS SHIT, JOHN

Mace:

RIGHT?!

Mace:

“EVERYBODY LOSES IT”

Lor:

Dean counting and doing math in the air in the background

Lor:

pets Jensen

Mace:

Bobby is so done with them

Lor:

he IS

Mace:

“you can be rainman"

Lor:

LOL

Lor:

DEAN'S SMILE

Mace:

YES

Mace:

and Sam’s grimace

Lor:

YES

Lor:

"I got canned everything"

Mace:

that’s a different kind of ew

Lor:

he's having a banana split

Lor:

LOL

Mace:

HAHAHA

Mace:

omg the way they both lean over to watch her walk away

Mace:

and then Dean’s “DUDE.”

Lor:

YES

Lor:

YES

Lor:

"if you were ever going to get lucky"

Lor:

"how is that good?"

Lor:

oh Dean

Mace:

YEP

Mace:

HAHAHAHA SAMMY

Lor:

YES

Mace:

oh his KNEES

Mace:

I need to patch him up

Lor:

Dean's face when realizes Sam fell and stops running

Lor:

YEAH YOU DO

Mace:

YAS

Lor:

"I like that when they drop the whole onion in the fryer"

Mace:

HAHAHA

Mace:

OMG SAMMY

Lor:

this scene with Grossman is literally where I learned that when people say "pour one out for whoever" that people actually DO pour one out

Lor:

OMG SAM

Mace:

omg Lor that is ADORABLE

Lor:

"yeah I'm good"

Lor:

LOLOLOLOL

Lor:

look, Supernatural is educational

Mace:

oh, he said “goodbye, partner” because I’m learning the ESPANOL

Lor:

LOL

Lor:

SEE?

Mace:

nonono, I didn’t learn spanish from SPN, Lor

Lor:

it's reinforcing it for you

Lor:

pets SPN

Mace:

look, I already love the show. no need to get bananas

Mace:

omg THE SHOE SCENE

Lor:

SNORK

Lor:

omg the SHOE

Mace:

YAS

Lor:

"oh crap it's probably Bella"

Mace:

YES

Mace:

IDJIT HAHAHA

Lor:

YES

Lor:

"I lost my shoe"

Lor:

his TONE

Mace:

YAAASSS

Lor:

HIS FACE

Mace:

I NEED TO WRAP HIM IN BLANKETS NOW

Mace:

and he wouldn��t complain

Lor:

he would not

Lor:

omg the nose itch

Mace:

YAS

Mace:

adorable

Lor:

the post it note

Lor:

he's such a goof

Lor:

I luff him

Mace:

YESYESYES

Lor:

"aw come on... I didn't" SAM

Mace:

Sam does SUCH a good confused look

Lor:

YES

Mace:

YAS

Lor:

SAM that is made out something that makes fire worse, I guarantee it

Mace:

Lor:

the look on his face when his arm catches fire OMG

Mace:

YES I LOVE HIM

Lor:

and the dudes out the window!

Mace:

THE GOOF

Mace:

YES

Mace:

I love this whole guns pointed at each other scene

Lor:

aw lookit them circling each other

Lor:

YES!

Lor:

they are both so DANG pretty

Mace:

THEY ARE

Mace:

“no, a great thief” YAS I LOVE IT

Lor:

"yeah. a thief"

Lor:

YESYESYES

Lor:

their dynamic is great. I wish they got to do it longer

Mace:

“Gordon?! Aw c’mon.”

Mace:

I agree!

Lor:

YES

Lor:

and they should have had hot angry sex exactly once

Mace:

YES THEY SHOULD

Lor:

"look, Bella, my brother. he touched the foot"

Lor:

only on this show

Mace:

HAHAHA

Mace:

and they don’t know that they each made a similar deal I LOVE IT

Lor:

"aren't you a glass half full"

Lor:

YES

Lor:

so cool

Mace:

omg the “see ya!”

Lor:

Dean is great little pickpocket too love it

Lor:

YES

Lor:

"Lielielie"

Lor:

this DUDE

Lor:

he's hilarious

Lor:

but I am going to have to beat him with his own Henley for hitting Sammy like that

Mace:

CORRECT

Lor:

(he does wear the Henley nice though)

Mace:

he does

Lor:

omg he thinks it's god

Lor:

and in a weird way it is

Mace:

omg YAS

Lor:

"yeah that thing"

Mace:

“OMG DID YOU SEE THAT SHOT”

Mace:

i love him

Lor:

YES

Lor:

he's having so much FUN

Mace:

“I’M BATMAN” YAAAAASSSS

Mace:

HE IS

Lor:

"I"m BATMAN"

Lor:

YEEEEEES

Lor:

and Sam's face!

Mace:

it ties right into him not getting to have a childhood

Lor:

"yeah. you're batman"

Lor:

YESYESYES

Lor:

Dean frantically scratching tickets before they destroy it

Lor:

(which, honestly, smart. they do need money)

Lor:

omg Dean doing his speech and then she just shoots Sam

Mace:

YES

Lor:

"what the hell is wrong with you!"

Lor:

omg they're adorable

Mace:

oh he is SO SMART

Lor:

I really could have happily had like one episode a season where Bella shows up to hound them

Mace:

YES

Lor:

YES

Mace:

and I want her reaction to DeanCas

Lor:

YES

Lor:

she should absolutely be on team "clocked that within three seconds of seeing them together"

Mace:

YEP

Mace:

“SON OF A BITCH!!!”

Lor:

"SON OF A BITCH"

[after the episode ended:]

Mace:

and Jared’s little break

Lor:

LOL YES

Lor:

I don't think I'd noticed that before

Lor:

he's cracking up that's adorable

Lor:

I love that Gordon is like "yeah, Kubrick's nuts but that's fine he's a nuts that helps me"

Mace:

YEP

Lor:

sigh I love the fun ones

Mace:

didn’t we see somewhere that Jensen adlibbed the SONOFABITCH and that’s why Jared breaks?

Lor:

oh did we? i don't remember

Lor:

but it sounds completely plausible

Mace:

I think so, or at least I did

#watchingspnagain #watchingspnagain 3x03 #spn #supernatural #spn meta #spn spoilers #spn 3x03 #watchingspnagain acting #watchingspnagain comedy #watchingspnagain fraught #watchingspnagain music

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nyanggk · 2 years

Note

LMAO IM SENDING U TWO RANDOM NUMBERS SO... GOOD LUCK 🤪✌🏼

97 & 52

- viv

girl... WHYD U HAVE TO ASK THE MOST EMBARASSING QUESTIONS????? also, I was gonna send u an ask of my own but I was too lazy to see which ones you've alrdy answered and which one u haven't 👹👹

52. have you ever been interrupted during sex/masturbation? Who What

♡ yes we have hahahahaha during sex hahahaha it was the most embarrassing moment in my life. we got interrupted by my sister who just randomly came in and opened the lights and saw both of us stark naked 👍👍👍 I think she was asking a question outside my door but obv I didn't hear her bcs.... I was getting fucked?????? and then yeah, she came in 😐 BITCH I LEGIT CRIED

97. does your lover know if you masturbate?

♡ yes he does LMFAO we participate in e-sex whenever we're away from eachother or can't meet up and we're horny 🤗🤝🤝

#viv🧸#ask game !

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tammyfeabakker · 2 years

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About a week ago... I jus shattered... Into a billion pieces.... The last 6 months has jus been fucking shit after fucking shit more shit... The straw that broke the camel's back was jury duty... And laced marijuana... I jus went poof... Shit after shit after shit... Dealing with anxiety in the morning.... Oh it's not that bad... Sez one persona the other is oh yes the fuck it is!!!! You know happens when you lie to yourself?! It comes on with vengeance! Literally shaking and crying! Laced marijuana did not help. I had to be taking down... Wtf all this bad luck!!! Wtf!!! I'm jus trying to do what I need to do!!! I hate it but I gotta do what I gotta do!!! While I'm lying there all fucked up... It dawned on me. Hey bitch wouldn't be funny... If it wasn't bad luck! Life doesn't have it out for you hahahaha best laugh I had... Maybe life said enough is enough... Yesterday after 10 days of being in a fucked up haze. I decided to go back to work... Anxiety sick almost crying... I don't know where the pt cruiser is... Nissan was in the shop. So I had to take the jeep.... Low and behold I get pulled over! I see the lights .. Linwood you do the speed limit... So I didn't on purposely bring this myself. Posh hood.. I got pulled over for an registration that was expired a year ago!!! Then he proceeds to tell me the 2017 inspection sticker was no good! This jeep has encountered so many cops in a year. Inspection sticker haven't been pulled over since all of Galloway twp cops pulled me over at the same time... Be like 8 years ago. Never had a problem since! He asked me you know I pulled you over? I said I left the house! I'm pretty convinced life is trying to tell me something!! Not bad luck

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ask-the-ace-attorney-culprits · 2 months

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Celeste Doppio: “That BITCH Eleanor doesn’t know who she is DEALING with here. Does she actually THINK she can convict me for ONE FUCKING murder hahahaha, oh good luck lady, no bumbling detective or two people stuck in detention are going to stop me.”

#ask me anything #ace attorney #assassin arc #Celeste Doppio

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cheemken · 1 year

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I think that fish won’t help me even if I did reblog it hahahaha… 🥲

Oh I totally get what you mean by the DLC looking like Gen 10 and yeah! Turtle looks like Paldea and honestly I’m wondering if turtle really is the region… The Pokemon returning are nice though, like Ninetales fits the Japanese folktale vibe for the first DLC and Metagross is coming back right- That wasn’t a fever dream right

And hey, of course I want to do an art trade with you but like… my post count and schedule… I don’t wanna break it haha… and besides you have exams coming up lmao

Good luck for your exams especially the stats one, that sounds like a huge fucking bitch and I bet you’ll fucking crush it (or pass, whichever you prefer lmao)

Well who knows, Roger works wonders hahaha

But ohh yeah I get what you mean w the dlc, and I saw that the turtle Mon is like, one of the reason?? For the terastalization thing hahah and yeah Metagross is coming back home uwub

And pfft fair fair, I understand hahah and hey yeah my exams cjmxnd don't worry hopefully the extra points I got from joining the events would suffice and would help me pass hahah thanks tho, good luck w stuff there too :3

#i'll be here trying to draw stuff again for the meantime hahah #since its still break so hey might as well hahah #an ask and an answer #altairtalisman

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creepypasta-archive · 2 years

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Jeff The Killer Untitled Story

by Anonymous

So... yeah, this was a weird weird find, as it was hidden in the changelog history of some random's wikia section page, apparently some kid accidentally overwrote a page with this story thinking that was the way to add the story to the site. Only stumbled onto it by pure luck. Technically you could call this the rarest Jeff story to be published

CW// alcohol, murder, blood, swears

Click below to read the original unedited story

Now where do I begin,oh right one night I was getting ready for bed, I brushed my teeth,and all of that junk,when I got into bed,I had a strange feeling that I was not alone...I just shook it off and fell asleep.After a couple hours I began to have strange dreams and a sense of uncontrollable fear, but you know, I just thought it was that horror story I read that night,so I tried to stay strong...that's when I started to hear voices and psychotic laughter. Buy that time I was just about to shit myself, when my mouth was covered by a blood stained,white hand. I looked up to find that the hand belonged to the one and only Jeff the killer "Shhhhh,just go to sleep", he said.All I could do was muffle in between his cold fingers,man did I hate that guy!As he slowly showed his knife to me,still with his hand over my mouth, he said,"Don't be scared, this will only hurt a lot!Well at least for you it will HAHAHAHA!"When he loosened up his grip on my mouth to bring me to my demise,I quickly bit his finger making him let go of me and drop his knife.He looked at me then quickly grabbed his knife, saying to me,"you have potential in killing me kid I'll let you live but next time you won't be so lucky".Then he started out of my room,I quickly slid off of my bed and opened a box that I hide from My parents under my bed,I pulled out the knife, and ran after Jeff with it.I caught him looking through my fathers wine supply and said," you won't get out of this house so easily bitch!"I charged at him with my knife plunging it into his side,blood flowing out like water out of a hose.Something popped inside of me when I saw blood,but when I was little, I always hated the look of blood,the taste,and the feel of blood. But this was different,I actually enjoyed it! I went crazy and let him escape while saying," and don't you ever come back you fucking bitch!" Damn,but it felt so good! I'm actually living but wandering the streets trying to kill people gets kind of boring, but you'll hang out with me right?We'll play my favorite game! Tag! I'll start TAG IM IT!

#jeff the killer #creepypasta #fanfiction #horror #jtk #story

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gay-otlc · 2 years

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Straight A Supervillain- 12

My birthday present to myself is watching you all go insane over this chapter.

Content warnings for cursing, trichotillomania, yelling/arguing, and the standard parental shitiness

“So, how’d it go? With Blaze?” Naomi fought to keep eir face neutral as eir maybe-girlfriend walked in the room.

Lani made a face and flopped onto her bed. “Ugh. I took some good notes, but he’s such a bitch! Your dad is the worst, huh?”

“He is-” ey caught emself and panic exploded in eir chest, spreading further through eir veins with each heartbeat. “Shit. Shit. Shit shit fuck. Lani, I- how did you figure that out?” Ey sat down on the bed next to Lani and buried eir face in eir hands. Lani shuffled farther away from em.

“You’ve always acted really suspicious when it came to parents, but I was like, willing to let that slide since a lot of villains have some sort of parent issues and I didn’t want to pry, you know? And then you acted so weird about Blaze and I was pretty sure there was something other than ‘goes to my synagogue’ going on there. I showed up at the job and my first thought was, holy shit, he looks just like Naomi. That all but confirmed it, and then I saw a picture of you at your Bat Mitzvah on his desk, and Blaze and Thunderclap were standing right next to you.”

He had a picture of em on his desk?

Wait. That wasn’t the point.

“Okay, fine! Yes! My parents are fucking superheroes! Please don’t tell anyone, you know I’ll get expelled, and I cannot stand to lose everything I’ve built here.” Ey couldn’t stand to look Lani in the eyes, so ey focused on ripping hairs out, one by one. “I really don’t want to lose you.”

“That’s sweet, unfortunately, we’ve just established that you’re a really good liar. How do I know you’re not here trying to sabotage us on your parents’ orders?”

“If I was good, I wouldn’t have just gotten caught! I’m a terrible liar, it’s the truth that I want to be here. So please, Lani, please don’t tell anyone.”

The weight of the bed shifted around, and for a second Naomi thought Lani might be moving closer to em- but nope, the opposite. “So, it might be a little late for that-”

Well, that was the nail in the coffin. Naomi was fucked. Naomi would be expelled. Naomi would lose everything, lose the first time ey’d been happy in… well… “Who did you tell!?”

“Cameron and Noel. Who have probably been eavesdropping, since I told them I’d confront you. You two can come in now.” The door swung open and Naomi’s other two roommates walked in. Cameron looked pissed. Noel looked sad. It was unclear which was worse.

Ey guessed that was better than telling a teacher, or Dr. Plague. But still not good. Before even talking to em about it? This was eir future on the line! “Lani! Come on, seriously? I fucking trusted you!”

“Apparently you didn’t.” She said it quietly, as if that would make up for the way the three words sliced through the room and pierced through Naomi.

“Damn,” whispered Cameron.

“Listen, I-” How did ey argue that? It was true. Ey hadn’t trusted eir friends enough to tell them this. But it’s not like that wasn’t justified. “I trusted you with everything except this because I was scared you would react like this!”

“If you hadn’t worked so hard to make it some big secret you wouldn’t seem so suspicious.”

“What, do you suspect me of being a fucking hero? Come on, Lani, you know me.”

“Do I?” She stood up and walked away from Naomi. Ey concentrated on not lighting anything on fire- burning Lani’s stuff would definitely not help eir case. “You’ve been keeping this huge secret from all of us- from me- since day one. You’re related to heroes. Not just any heroes, Blaze. And Thunderclap. And they’re your parents. You’ve been lying to all of us and I don’t even know what to believe anymore. You’re a damn good actor.”

“L-Lani, I-” I’m sorry, ey wanted to say. Or maybe just not really, I suck at acting. Nothing came out.

“Did you expect me to just find out and decide you were still perfectly trustworthy, still on our side, still my- still my friend? Or my… whatever we were? No doubts? Seriously? Or did you plan on never telling me?”

Naomi didn’t plan things. Looking back, that was probably eir problem. So, ey didn’t really know how to answer that question, so ey changed course. “Lani, after everything, you seriously think I would just betray Villain High School for my shitbag parents? Betray the arson gang?”

“I never agreed to that name,” Cameron said quietly. Everyone ignored him.

“I don’t fucking know what to think!” screamed Lani, and whatever was left of Naomi’s heart broke at the sheer pain her voice carried. Something angry burned in the space the heart used to be.

“Then you could have asked me instead of trying to get me kicked out! I don’t have anywhere else to go, Lani, I don’t know what I would do if I got expelled from here. You would risk that without even talking to me without making sure you had all the facts?”

“How could I ask you about this!? You would just lie to me more!”

“If she was trying to get you expelled, you would be,” Noel offered, the first time he’d spoken. “She made us promise not to tell any of the teachers, just get Cameron and me to help her figure this all out.”

“Fine then, let’s actually figure this out instead of just accusing me of shit!”

“Fine! Interrogation time.” Noel grabbed a notebook, and removed a pencil from tucked behind his ear. “Is Naomi your real name?”

“Yes. At least until I have another gender crisis and decide to change it.” Ey thought at least that would make Cameron smile. It didn’t.

“Is Lebowski your real last name?”

“Um, no. It’s actually Rothstein. But if I don’t want to get kicked out of here, I can’t use that. Lebowski is my mother’s maiden name.”

“Middle name?”

Was this relevant? “Lior.” Noel scribbled something down in a notebook, organized and composed as ever. He kept his gaze firmly away from em.

“Why are you at Villain High School?”

“Because I want to be a villain?”

Lani turned invisible, then reappeared. “Is that a question or an answer?”

“It’s an answer, I just have anxiety.” Proving eir point, ey tore out an eyelash.

“Okay. Why do you want to be a villain?”

Ey rummaged around in eir pockets. “I wrote that monologue for this, do you want me to-”

“No.” Noel clenched his fists, and little icicles appeared around his knuckles. Unlike Naomi, who accidentally set things on fire all the time, this was the first time ey’d seen him use his power without meaning to. That was… probably bad. “Just be honest. For once. Villain origin story, go.”

“Fine. I was eleven, I think. Could have been twelve, but probably eleven. It’s kind of hazy, I was in sixth grade, and- yeah, it was before April, so that would be eleven. I was in my science class and we were doing some sort of experiment, it was flammable and apparently our teacher didn’t know the proper safety precautions. Whatever that experiment was, it had a lot of weight on our grade, I remember, so I was pretty anxious. And as one does when they have untreated anxiety and fire powers just waiting to pop up at the most inconvenient time, I maybe possibly set the science lab on fire.”

“As one does,” agreed Cameron, distantly. Naomi, lost in the memory, barely heard her.

“So I, well, fucking ran. I was pretty damn scared, you know? This was the first time I’d just… had fire appear out of my fingers, and I didn’t want to get hurt. I just panicked and ran. Again, I was eleven. I wasn’t a firefighter or a hero or my father. I was a kid.”

Maybe if ey said that enough, ey’d believe it. Would eir friends- roommates- be mad at em for not staying behind to save the other students? Would they be disappointed in em too? Why did ey even care, they were already mad about the whole hero thing. And here ey was, disappointed in emself still for not being heroic enough.

“I didn’t act like a hero and save anyone. I acted like a child. Because I was one. But nooo.” Ey rolled eir eyes. “Childhood is not a luxury provided to daughters of superheroes. So there was this article that came out in the Eyver City Times… can I have my computer? I’m just gonna google it for you.”

Noel handed it to em, still not making eye contact. “Here.”

Ey opened it up and went to google. daughter of blaze and thunderclap villian.

Did you mean: daughter of blaze and thunderclap villain

Ignoring the typo, Naomi clicked on the first result. Somewhere, ey was picking it up and staring at it for the first time. Angry at the reporters, angry at eir parents, mostly angry at emself.

Cameron leaned over eir shoulder to read. “Daughter- or, child- of Blaze and Thunderclap: Destined For Heroics? Or Villainry?”

“I was never a good enough hero for my parents,” ey mumbled, going back to burying eir face in eir hands. “I’d always been trying, but when they read that article- and when they agreed- I knew I would never be able to try hard enough. Because no matter how hard I tried, I’d never be brave enough, never be smart enough, never be heroic enough, never fucking enough for them. So I just… stopped trying. If I would never be a good enough hero, why not a villain?” Tears were being little bitches and threatening to spill from eir eyes. Ey wiped them away.

Someone put their hand on eir shoulder. Naomi shrugged it off. “I hate my parents. I hate them and I hate everything they stand for. If being a hero means making sixth graders hate themselves, I want no part in it. I would never help them, I promise. You guys- you guys are the first people who have ever treated me like I’m enough, I need you to know I would never betray you.”

Silence. Ey wasn’t totally sure what ey was expecting. For a while, the only sound was em sniffling and trying to stop the tears from being even bitchier. Wouldn’t someone just say something already? Still, ey had no idea what ey expected, but it was definitely not a hug.

“Lani?”

“Naomi, fuck, I’m so sorry. I am not a violent person but I want to punch your parents, they had no right to treat you like that, I am so sorry.”

Ey didn’t respond, just buried eir face in her shoulder. Lani was being nice to em? Ey had no idea what to do when people were being nice to em. Apparently it involved crying? This was weird. Feelings were weird.

Another person joined the hug. Probably Cameron, judging by the earrings brushing against the top of Naomi’s head. “We’re here for you, okay?”

Off to the side, Noel coughed. “I don’t really like hugs. But um. There, there?” He patted em awkwardly on the shoulder, and Naomi couldn’t help but laugh a bit through eir tears.

“I’m still a little pissed,” Lani said after a while, pulling back from the hug. Disappointing. “But I trust you. And I will now approach my job sabotaging Blaze with extra spite. Maybe I’ll accidentally put some salt in his coffee instead of sugar. And just, accidentally, lose some important paperwork. I know it wouldn’t really make up for how he treated you, but I do want to piss him off.”

“Oh, it’s so funny when he gets mad- his face gets all red and scrunched up. You can literally see steam rising from him. It’s like a bad cartoon, it’s hysterical.” Naomi pointedly ignored the part where Lani said she trusted em. It definitely filled em with some disgustingly gooey warm feelings, and those were to be avoided at all costs.

“We are going to be true villains, and fuck shit up for Blaze,” Cameron declared, rising about a foot in the air as he pumped her fist.

Noel’s fingers curled into an icy fist, but this time the anger wasn’t directed at Naomi. This time was way better. “We’re gonna win, Heatwave.”

#HAHAHAHA GOOD LUCK BITCHES #please ask me about this i would love to scream more about what was going on in my head #straight a supervillain #queuing for midnight on my birthday because i want to post asap #s writes things

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