#she has her own spirit companion

[drysia]

So I'm putting actual effort into my replay now and looking at things. For my whole first run I had my head glammed to the giant realistic Crow head because...well, it'd be funny even though I had it turned off for cutscenes. Like, imagine, after the first quests in Treviso Rook is like, aw yeah, I can finally after a year dress like a Crow (and thus become Viago's best PR machine as she saves the world.) and that's what she chose.

I've head cannoned that this originally was my Rook's gear. It's what she wore during the whole Antaam fiasco that got her temporarily exiled so there was no way to deny it was one of the Crows that did it. Viago sold it after Rook left with Varric out of...I don't know anger? Annoyance (Maybe he always hated the damn thing, couldn't Rook wear a normal crow mask?)

Rook sees her favorite mask for sale and obviously buys it back. As I was buying it this time, though, I finally paid attention to the flavor text.

Now obviously this could just be something that's been made up, the stuff about the spirit. Some over the top lore Rook made up, or was made up about it by Viago to sell the ugly thing, or a brand new legend attached to it by the starry eyes fledglings that don't think Rook's actions warranted an exile, but they can't say that part out loud.

But what if there is a spirit hanging out in that feathery little headgear after all. Tossing and turning it in my brain, thinking about what kind of spirit could be hanging out there. Another reason for Spite to like Rook, she also has a spirit friend even if its quiet. Manfred having one of his first words be "Rook!" because another spirit already vouched for her when they met.

[arisenreborn]

all that you are is a promise to the world -

[flowersforthemachines]

Some facts about Emmrich (and also the Necropolis, Nevarra and other related things) gathered from the banters

I went through all companion banters on DanaDuchy's channel after playing the game to write down all facts about companions/the world that I haven't seen brought up anywhere in the game as a writing reference (and for funsies).

Note: This list may not be exhaustive. I might have missed some something or didn't write it down because I considered it common knowledge. If you have anything to add, please DM me or send an ask! (do specify what banter the information is coming from, though)

Note 2: Posts from this series (mostly) don't include information from banters specific to quests or between companions and faction members. I plan to do another playthrough to capture more of those and will add any relevant info to the character posts.

Other characters' posts: Bellara, Davrin, Harding, Lucanis, Neve, Taash. I'm also planning a post about just the Lighthouse some time later

About Emmrich:

Family and early life:

“Volkarin” is a commoner’s name. Emmrich’s father was a butcher, and his mother was a cook 

When Emmrich was around 5 years old, his neighbours had a pig named Lucy. He was very fond of her, and she’d always let him hug her around his neck

Emmrich grew up poor (clocked by Neve based on the way he always saves his candle stubs, shows up first for meals and never leaves food on his plate) 

Emmrich grew up hearing that all dragons were so hostile they had to be slain and is surprised that Taash has found ways to deal with them peacefully 

General:

The gold Emmrich’ wears is called “grave-dowry” (or “grave gold”). It’s a Nevarran custom to wear precious objects one would like to take to their grave

Emmrich’s bracelet (not specified which one) was gifted to him on the day he became a full Watcher. The ring with a large stone was the last gift from his father. The skull pin doesn’t have a story, he just likes it

Emmrich isn’t fond of the Nevarran nobility

Emmrich’s shaving cream smells like potash (at least to Taash)

Emmrich uses moss perfume with flowers

Decades ago, Emmrich used to see an Orlesian woman who was an art appraiser

If Emmrich wasn’t a watcher, he would like to be a botanist

Emmrich displays some interest in Ferelden, mentioning that many of its heroes greatly shaped the history. Harding says that’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said about her homeland

Emmrich doesn't like beer because it's bitter

Emmrich prefers tea (he mentions purchasing a Brynnlaw curled-leaf blend in Nevarra), but he can also drink coffee 

Emmrich doesn’t eat meat (seafood and insects included), but he indulges in cheese. It seems to be a Watcher thing - he says that each Watcher must decide what they will and won't take a life for, and meat crosses that line for him

Emmrich likes melons, mushrooms and pineapples. He also enjoyed a plate of fried leeks and potatoes at Halos’s stand in Minrathous

Emmrich always thought he’d get married one day

After a Minrathous merchant sells Emmrich fake charms, he causes him to see skeletal faces on the windows and hear spirits whispering that false goods endanger lives as punishment. Emmrich agrees to stop once Neve tells him that she can convince the merchant to get back to selling linen if the visions cease

On magic and studies:

Some deaths may leave emotional imprints so intense Emmrich may feel them decades later 

Emmrich thinks the magic of old Elven artefacts is “rigid” 

Emmrich isn’t very good at figuring out Elven artefacts (by his own admission)

Emmrich’s first published work was A Monograph on the Vagaries of Determining a Body's Time of Death

Emmrich is roughly familiar with the dragon anatomy

Emmrich knows a lot about how bodies work (muscle-wise etc.) from the time he performed autopsies 

Watchers study the death practices of other cultures. Emmrich knew about Eb-ketarra and the Rivaini traditions even before Taash performs them at the end of their questline

On life in the Necropolis: 

When Emmrich fell for another boy during his youth, he showed him a corpse he was allowed to practice dissection on. The date was ruined by a passing wisp possessing the body and causing it to sit up and ruin the mood 

Emmrich tutored Dorian during his term in the Necropolis (“Tremendous potential, but appallingly flippant towards the dead”)

Emmrich and other watchers live in the Necropolis (Emmrich has a flat there)

On life at the Lighthouse:

It took 8 skeletons half a day to bring that slab of marble into Emmrich’s room

He didn’t bring his entire collection of books to the Lighthouse (there are more)

Emmrich talks to skulls in his room 

Lighthouse kitchen reminds Emmrich of the mortuary

Relationships with companions:

Emmrich offers to introduce Bellara to Audric, the Necropolis librarian (who appeared in Tevinter Nights’ Down Among the Dead Men)

Emmrich calls the Archive spirit a work of art  

Emmrich and Davrin disagree on parenting methods. Emmrich thinks Davrin should better discipline Assan and teach him boundaries, while Davrin suggest Emmrich should let Manfred learn more on his own (e.g. let him fall so he learns how to get up) 

Emmrich turns to Neve when he needs help acquiring some reagents he can't get his hands through normal ones, and she agrees to help him out (smuggling is involved)

Emmrich isn’t too thrilled about Neve taking over the Threads, questioning of what’s going to become with the organisation and the future and thinking it may become corrupt (sort of mirroring the way Neve is apprehensive about his lichdom) 

Taash likes Emmrich’s lich helmet. They are not usually fond of skulls, but that helmet is fine because it’s on fire

Taash thinks that gemstones like amethyst or green opal would look good with the lich helmet

Emmrich doesn’t seem to like unrealistic books as he criticised Harding’s “Gore-Knight” novels for their incorrect interpretation of magic. He is worried about people misunderstanding magic and spirits

Emmrich calls himself Harding's 'de facto physician'

On Manfred: 

(If Rook chooses to save Treviso) Manfred brings Neve tea by his own volition. Emmrich thinks it's because Manfred sensed she might need a friend

Manfred is as aware of his surroundings as most people (to a certain degree)

(If revived at the Necropolis) Manfred learns to say Emmrich’s name 

(If revived at the Necropolis) Manfred becomes much more talkative 

Manfred likes boiling tea because he is fascinated by steam

Emmrich suggests Manfred tries tending to plants in Harding's garden 

Manfred is curious about Spite and wanders into Lucanis’s room at night

Spite and Assan miss Manfred if he’s gone

On Lichdom:

Emmrich smells fine to Taash even after he becomes a lich 

Emmrich’s lich helmet burns with veilfire. He once tried using it in combat, but the flame ended up blinding him

Emmrich thinks Strife would no longer be interested in a relationship after he becomes a Lich. That doesn't prove to be true

Lich!Emmrich doesn't need to eat but still comes by the kitchen for company

The energy of Emmrich’s magic changed after he became a lich

Other liches call lich!Emmrich “Young Volkarin” 

Lich!Emmrich no longer has muscles, but when he tries out Taash’s pull-up routine, he can still feel something like “a spectral memory of flesh”, as if he had pulled a tendon

Emmrich starts seeing more books in the Lighthouse library after becoming a linch

About spirit, demons, and the Necropolis: 

There are spirits of Temperance and Diligence 

The Watchers avoid using the word “demon” because it creates bad expectations and can negatively influence spirits 

Some in the Mourn Watch suspected that elves originated from spirits, though it was just one of many theories, and not a particularly popular one

Chambers in the Necropolis can go missing (according to MW!Rook, they turn up, eventually)  

Even after the despair demon is banished from the Necropolis, the halls remain cold. However, the effects will abate with time

There are horses on display in the Necropolis

Watchers rarely get possessed thanks to the special wards of the Necropolis. Possessions also don’t happen as often because the necromancers already provide spirits with bodies, so they don't need to possess anyone by force

Bellara calls the background magic of Necropolis tidy and quiet

There something called “The Deep Necropolis” featuring sections like “The Unspoken Valley” and “The Charnel Bridge” (which has something called “nightmare fog”) that hosts all kinds of entities. Bellara is very excited to visit once the nightmare fog clears

Vorgoth ensures that the transgressions of those who use magical to cruel and abusive means will not be tolerated (whatever that means)

About Nevarra:

Many great Nevarran artefacts have been lost to time, including the Skull of Sabinar, the Key of Dead Dreamers, and the Crown of the Moon

There are strict rules about selling enchantments in Nevarra. You can’t sell anything without a licence and an inspection from the mage Circles

A Tevinter poem “Faustina's Song”, a romantic epic from the Steel Age, is very popular in Nevarra, and its quotes are used on ‘more than one’ epitaph in the Necropolis. Neve is surprised people even read it outside Tevinter 

Pineapples don’t grow in Nevarra

[yavvana]

I can't get over how fucking awful Mythal actually was.

Don't read below this if you haven't finished Veilguard, lmao.

The fact that Solas wore her vallaslin, and somehow still saw her as a friend, and trusted and loved her enough to do everything she asked of him makes me so angry/sad. Friends don't make their friends wear slave markings on their faces. Him being called her lapdog by Elgar'nan makes so much more sense.

And then Solas goes and accepts the blame for decisions that she made, and then manipulated him into agreeing to, and she fucking accepts no fault! If you confront her about the Blight when you meet her in the Crossroads, she basically just says, "not my problem."

And he blames himself for her death because he couldn't convince her to walk away from the Evanuris! But really, sorry Mythal, that's her own fucking fault?! She saw herself as above Solas, so she refused to heed his warnings, and then Elgar'nan killed her because Elgar'nan's a bitch.

And then if you pick the good ending, and Solas sees her again, you cannot tell me that his reaction to her is not one of someone who has been abused being confronted by their abuser. The way he curls around the dagger...Mythal, when I get my hands on you, Mythal...And then she says, "I release you from my service." Bitch. I wanted my Lavellan to punch her ghost with her prosthetic hand so fucking bad, lmao.

Solas was a spirit of wisdom! And she corrupted him from his purpose. If he had stayed a spirit, he would have become a pride demon because of her manipulations.

Cole has a couple of lines in DAI that I can't stop fucking thinking about.

"He didn't want a body, but she asked him to come. He left a scar when he burned her off his face."

And, "He wants to give wisdom, not orders."

Solas gets to be himself in Inquisition. He gets to return to giving wisdom. Regardless of whether or not you're romancing him, if you're not a dick to him, he offers these beautiful stories about the Fade, and GDL does a fucking incredible job of making each of them sound poetic as fuck. And he's so kind to all the companions. Even Vivienne who has so much contempt for him, and he tries to offer her advice when he notices things about her magic that he finds...unsettling, lmao. Like their interaction about her staff's aura and him being like, "Are you sure that's the aura you want your staff to have, I can cleanse it for you?" And she's just like, "Yup." And he just lets it go.

When he leaves the Inquisition, Solas forces himself to be what Mythal made him. Which makes the line, "You are Mythal's creature now!" so distressingly ironic.

People talk about how he hates the Dalish elves, and Qunari, but that's just factually inaccurate. He's frustrated by the Dalish because he spent how many years fighting to free the elves from the influence of the Evanuris, only to wake from uthenera to find that he is the villain in all their tales, and the Evanuris are regarded as gods. And when he tried to tell a clan the truth, they tried to kill him! And he doesn't hate the Qunari, he hates the Qun. He hates that under the Qun, people do not get to make their own decisions.

Iron Bull's biggest fear is becoming a rabid Tal'Vashoth, and he expresses as much to Solas. And if you play as a Qunari, Solas points out in party banter that Inky isn't rabid.

If you have Iron Bull side with the Chargers, Solas checks in on Bull several times in party banter, assuring Bull he won't become like the Tal'Vashoth that he fought in Seheron. Because Bull has the Inquisition, and his friends, and Solas. And then they play mental chess, and if that's not friendship, idk what is.

And his interactions with Sera, who doesn't think she's elfy enough, so she makes fun of elfy things as a defence mechanism, are fucking hilarious. The way he gets her to talk about the Fade by asking her about the Breach, and what she sees when she looks at it, and you kinda see that Sera is a lot more elfy than she realizes. And then when she realizes it and gets mad, he basically tells her it's payback for her filling his bedroll with lizards. And she just fucking giggles and is like, "yeah, fair." (These two are my absolute favorite characters in DAI and I would die for either of them, lmao) But he kinda makes her connect with her heritage even though she doesn't want to, and I think that's good for her.

Solas also gets angry with Blackwall, not for lying about actually being Thom Rainier, but because Blackwall led his men into fights, and to their deaths in many instances, for nothing more than his greed. And then he APOLOGIZES for that interaction. And Blackwall tells him it's fine, that Solas was right, and he deserved it. And then Solas commends him for taking the first step towards redemption by owning his past and his mistakes.

And then there's him and Varric constantly joking about having to clean up messes made by humans, and "Why are an elven apostate and a dwarf here, again?" Their interactions are some of my favorites, and it's why I firmly believe that if there had been one more wolf statuette to find, it would have been his regret over Varric's death.

Solas deserved better than having Mythal as a "friend." She manipulated and corrupted him. And then let him take the fall for things that she did. She regrets NOTHING about what they did to the Titans. Meanwhile, it's one of his biggest regrets.

Anyway, I love the Egg, and I hate Mythal. That is all. I hope Solas and my Lavellan Inky get to have plenty of Fade-ordered therapy. They both fucking need it.

[feyascorner]

at the end of the day

summary. you and astarion have your first genuine fight and the other companions try to patch things between the two of you.

warnings. comfort/fluff

pairing. Astarion x GN!Reader

a/n. have not written an actual one-shot in a while omg,...

Breakfast is eaten in silence. One that's been extending far past its welcome date now.

Shadowheart grips her fork, feeling the flitting glances exchanged amongst the others around the table while she maintains focus on the two individuals sitting on opposite sides of the table. Your eyes remain trained on the bread sitting on your plate and Astarion swirls his chalice aimlessly in his hand, neither of you even acknowledging the presence of the other. The cleric grimaces as you stand suddenly, your chair scraping against the floor as you do so.

"Thanks for the food, Gale," is all you mutter before leaving the room with your plate in hand. Astarion rises from his own chair in an instant, huffing.

"I must take my leave as well."

When both parties have left the room, all five other companions stare at one another in a knowing silence. Lae'zel is the only one who doesn't seem the slightest bothered. Wyll is the one to break the uncomfortable tension in the air, clearing his throat after Lae'zel nearly bites her fork off. "I see they're still amidst their lovers' quarrel."

"What are they even fighting about?" Karlach groans, slumping into her chair with an exasperated groan.

"It was nice the first few days to have a good night's sleep without their incessant noises," Shadowheart grumbles, shoving an egg into her mouth. "But now, this is arguable worse."

"Should we...aid them somehow?" Gale blinks.

Lae'zel snorts. "They're adults, we don't need to coddle them, wizard."

Despite her words, they do find themselves a few hours later in unanimous agreement to do something to ease the unfamiliar dryness of the camp dynamic. It comes in multiple attempts. And to say few---if not all--were unsuccessful, is an understatement.

First, when out in the woods, Gale makes an effort to spark a conversation that would prompt both you and Astarion to join in. You nod occasionally, though lost in thought, while Astarion promptly ignores whatever he's talking about. It's a pathetic attempt that has nobody but himself babbling away, which earns a grunt from Shadowheart. It's enough to shut him up, thankfully.

Second, Karlach uses her uncanny ability to lift someone's spirits. Jokes, dancing, all that jazz. Even booze. She urges you to let loose, but all you do in response is smile at her apologetically while Astarion just glares off into space. Another failed attempt. Lae'zel pats Karlach on the shoulder.

Wyll tells stories of his monster hunting days which you usually take an interest in. Astarion naturally listens to what a monster hunter does when he's not hunting monsters, but that's all it is. You and Astarion only listen. There are quips and lingering questions, but neither of you ever direct it at one another, or bother to add into the conversation either. The sheer amount of teasing questions has Wyll's head spinning by the end of it. Lae'zel rolls her eyes.

Just when things couldn't possibly get any worse, you're ambushed. It's a small horde of goblins---nothing beyond your capabilities, but your companions do take some small scratches here and there. Somehow, though he rarely does, as he prefers staying behind you or Karlach, Astarion does too. And despite his efforts to hide it behind his back, you also didn't miss the cut lining Astarion's arm to his elbow. It's not deep by any means, and if it were your own injury, you'd likely just brush it off.

But it's on his skin, and he'd gotten it when taking a hit from an arrow that should've cut your arm.

Blasted hells, you think, as he shrugs it off. Even when you can clearly see him clenching his jaw to bite away the pain.

If battle won't be the end of you, you're sure your idiot of a boyfriend might be instead.

"Come here, you fool," you mutter, holding out your hand. He doesn't even consider the fact that you're mad at one another and immediately extends his arm to you. Habits, you suppose.

You mumble out a weak scolding as he watches you wrap the wound through his lashes. He shivers as you lather a cool ointment on the cut, hoping it's enough to soothe the pain before Shadowheart's recovered enough to properly heal him. He lifts a pale hand to your face, and for a moment, you think he might pinch you. Instead, he runs a thumb across your cheek, spreading the ointment on a scratch you hadn't even realized was there in the first place.

You meet his eyes, your own softening as he cups his fingertips around your cheek. The way he looks at you is overwhelming sometimes---like you're the only thing he gives a damn about in this world---but it's a welcome feeling when he hasn't even looked you in the eye this way in days now. For a moment, you realize you don't even remember why the two of you were mad at one another in the first place.

A laugh threatens to escape your throat. How childish, truly.

And then he flicks your forehead, unable to help the grin etching onto his lips when you blink in surprise.

"That was for making me sleep by myself for three nights."

You swat at his arm while he dodges each of your lazy attempts to get back at him. And though the two of you continue bickering, unbeknownst to you, you have an audience a good bit away, watching you return to your old ways after making them worry for so long.

"What a sight it is--to see young people in love again," Wyll smiles.

Shadowheart deadpans. "Isn't Astarion nearing 240?"

"Who cares?" Karlach shrugs, slinging her arms on either side of her companions with a toothy beam. "What matters is that they made up...and we didn't even have to help them."

[marvolos]

Hold Me While You Wait

PAIRING: Cho Hyun Ju x gender neutral reader

SYNOPSIS: Cho Hyun-ju has known loss, but nothing compares to holding the lifeless body of the only person who ever truly believed in her. As they die in her arms, their final plea for comfort shatters her. Consumed by guilt over her choices in the deadly games, she is left alone in the silence of her grief, forced to confront the price of survival in a world that offers no mercy.

GENRE: angst

WARNINGS: blood, death, grief, guilt and self-blame

NOTES: i have literally been obsessed with hyunju since i finished watching s2 and the lack of fics made me want to attempt my own hand at writing (thank u to the people who requested this!!). please keep in mind that this is my absolute first time indulging into fanfic writing rather than relying on reading others' works so i would love some constructive criticism!! english is not my first language so i apologise if there are errors, this is not proof read.

Cho Hyun-ju was no stranger to the cruel intimacy of loss. It clung to her like a shadow, its touch cold and unrelenting. She had lost so many she had once dared to love, the echoes of their departures a constant ache in her chest. Friends, companions, confidants—each had slipped through her grasp the moment she chose to trust them, her vulnerability rewarded with betrayal as sharp and merciless as any blade. Yet, as she knelt there now, cradling the almost lifeless body of the only soul who had never faltered in their belief in her, she realized she had never truly understood pain. Not like this.

“Hyun-ju...” Their voice was weak, little more than a whisper. She leaned closer, her tears falling onto their face as she brushed a strand of hair from their blood-streaked forehead.

“I’m here,” she choked out, her voice cracking. “I’m here. You’re going to be okay. Just...stay with me.”

A faint smile tugged at their lips, so familiar yet so fragile it made her chest ache. “Liar,” they murmured, their words tinged with bittersweet amusement. “We both know...I’m not making it out of this.”

“Don’t say that!” Hyun-ju snapped, her hands pressing desperately against the wound in their chest. “You’re not leaving me. You promised! You said we’d survive this together!”

Their hand, slick with blood, reached up to cup her cheek. The gesture was weak, trembling, but the tenderness in their touch was unmistakable. “Hyun-ju,” they said, their gaze locking onto hers with a heartbreaking intensity. “Just...hold me.”

Her breath hitched. “No, I can stop the bleeding, I—”

“Please,” they interrupted, their voice so soft it broke her. “There’s no time. I don’t want to die alone... Just...let me feel safe. One last time.”

Hyun-ju’s vision blurred with tears, but she obeyed, gathering them closer against her chest. She buried her face in their hair, her sobs muffled as she clung to them like a lifeline. “You’re not alone,” she whispered, her words trembling with the weight of her grief. “I’m here. I’ll stay with you. Always.”

“Thank you,” they murmured, their voice barely audible now. “You...made it all worth it. Even this.”

“No,” Hyun-ju cried, her tears falling faster. “Don’t talk like that. Don’t leave me. Please...”

But their breathing slowed, each ragged inhale weaker than the last. Their hand fell from her cheek, limp at their side.

“I love you,” they whispered, the words so faint she barely caught them. And then, silence.

Hyun-ju’s world shattered.

Her beloved’s blood soaked through her fingers, warm and sticky, as if it carried the remnants of the life now slipping away. Hyun-ju's arms tightened around them as if she could hold their spirit in place, refusing to let death take what was hers. But their chest no longer rose with breath, and their once-bright eyes had dulled, staring blankly at a sky that offered no solace.

Hyun-ju's mind screamed at her to do something—anything—but her body was paralyzed, shackled by despair. The memory of a promise whispered in the tender quiet of midnight played cruelly in her head: We’ll face this together. Forever. That word mocked her now, hanging heavy with unfulfilled dreams, as eternity dissolved into a fleeting, fragile moment that ended too soon.

This was her fault.

The realization hit like a tidal wave, threatening to drag her under. Every choice she had made, every desperate gamble to survive, had led to this. She had believed she was fighting for their future—for their chance to escape the grasp of the brutal games that reduced human lives to fodder for the amusement of the elite. But instead, her choices had forged the very blade that now severed their shared hopes and dreams.

Her thoughts spiraled back to the first moment she saw them, standing on the shoreline, now just the pieces of a faint memory. The sea had stretched endlessly behind them, a restless expanse of possibility. Their smile had been like sunlight breaking through storm clouds, offering her something she had almost forgotten—hope. For the first time in years, she had felt seen, understood, as if their very presence whispered, you belong.

In the games, that hope had been her anchor. They had stood by her through every blood-streaked challenge, every moment of terror when the line between life and death blurred. They had trusted her when no one else would, had defended her when she didn’t deserve it.

And now they were gone.

That fleeting sense of belonging had been torn from her, ripped apart by the blood-soaked machinery of the games. She wanted to blame them—the faceless architects of this hell—but deep down, she knew it was her own hand that had led them here. Stay for one more game, she had told herself, clinging to the illusion that they could endure just a little longer, that she could outwit the odds. And now...now, that decision had cost her everything.

The weight of her grief pressed down on her chest, suffocating. Her vision blurred with tears, but she didn’t bother to wipe them away. What did it matter now? The world was a cruel, hollow place, and mourning was all she had left.

Her hands shook as she pressed them to the wound in their chest, futilely trying to stem the flow of blood. But it was pointless. The games didn’t allow for miracles.

The loudspeaker crackled to life above her, the voice cutting through her despair like a blade.

“Contestant 024 eliminated. Remaining contestants, return to the starting line for the next round.”

Hyun-ju’s breath hitched. The next round. It never ended. The games didn’t stop for grief, didn’t pause for the dead. They demanded obedience, demanded survival at any cost.

But what was the point of surviving now?

Her gaze shifted to the others still standing at the edge of the arena, their faces pale, their eyes averted. They had seen what happened, knew it could just as easily have been them. The games had robbed them all of their humanity, turning them into hollow shells, desperate only to live another day. Sympathy was a luxury the games didn’t allow.

“What was the point?” she choked out, her voice raw and broken. The words fell into the stillness around her, unanswered, as if the universe itself had turned its back on her suffering.

She looked down at her beloved’s face, tracing every line and feature with trembling fingers. How often had those lips spoken words of reassurance, promises that they’d make it through together? How often had those eyes met hers with unwavering faith, even when the world seemed intent on breaking them both?

Now, they were gone. And she remained. A cruel joke, an empty punishment for sins she could never atone for.

Hyun-ju pressed her forehead to theirs, her tears mingling with the blood between them. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice shaking with the weight of a thousand unspoken apologies. “I’m so, so sorry.”

But the silence that greeted her was deafening, a reminder that forgiveness would never come.

The night stretched on, oppressive and eternal, as she sat there in the crimson pool of her regret, mourning not just the love she had lost but the pieces of herself that had died with them.

hold me while you wait — © marvolos, 2025.

[kattyysims]

Autumn Core Challenge | The Sims 4

don’t click me

   With my favorite season being fall, I wanted to create a mini cozy challenge to do a let's play with! This "challenge" will take you through an autumn bucket list, and all the cozy aesthetics ~ meant to be played during the rainy fall season (at least where I'm from).

Required Packs: Seasons, Discover University, Spooky Stuff.

Extra Packs: Get to Work, Cats & Dogs, Paranormal Stuff, High School Years, Movie Hangout Stuff, Get Together.

~ Not a must have but required for some objectives.

Aspiration: Best Selling Author

Traits: Bookworm, Creative, and 1 free trait.

Sim Likes: Rain, baking, sweaters, candles, baths, movies, lofi, reading, cafes.

Skills: Baking, writing.

Season: Fall

~ Options Menu > Game Options > Environment > Seasons _ Seasons Length > 28 Days

Mods (Optional): Shorter University Degrees by The Peridot Project.

~ Not required but makes it easier ~ since the normal 12 credits takes up so much time.

Assets: Small cozy home, a cat, a small bakery.

Business: Bakery (Optional)

~ If you'd like an extra challenge, own a bakery on the side!

Education: Major - Communications or Language & Literature, Elective - Baking

Holiday: Spookyfest

~ (Open the seasons calendar, and create a holiday - add Spooky Spirit, Trick or Treat, and Wear Costumes.

   Your sim LOVES to read, write, and bake, she also has a small furry companion. Growing up she always loved reading books which led her to majoring in language and literature, with dreams of one day being a best-selling author. She loves all things fall and cozy, and thrives during the season. But not without conditions, she must drink at least one cup of coffee a day and loves visiting new cafes.

Objectives:

Master the baking skill. (Get to Work)

Graduate with at least a 3.8 GPA. (Discover University)

Own a 4-star bakery. (Get to Work) (Optional)

Publish 3 successful books.

Finish reading 4 books.

Become companions with your cat. (Cats & Dogs)

Drink one cup of coffee a day.

Have a 3 sim friend group.

~~~

Go to a cafe at least once a week. (Get Together)

Host a Spooky Party and get gold reward. (Spooky Stuff)

Go to a pumpkin patch (you can download one from the gallery). (Spooky Stuff)

Carve pumpkins (pumpkin carving station). (Spooky Stuff)

Go to a haunted house. (Next to the ferris wheel in Copperdale ~ High School Years.)

Befriend a ghost.

Play in a pile of leaves. (Seasons)

Watch Sims of the Dead. (Movie Hangout Stuff)

Go to a movie theater.

Stay the night in a haunted house residential. (Paranormal Stuff)

Commune with the departed. (Séance Table) (Paranormal Stuff)

Have a picnic.

Find a partner to go skating with. (Seasons)

Harvest an apple tree.

episode 1

[serpentface]

Hai-Taihe, a minor spirit known in the rural north of the Nekhuatseth forest, seen in the spaces between major towns and cities.

She is described as a mangy, heavily scarred bitch bearing signs of past pregnancies. She's mostly a normal looking dog but closer inspection reveals paws with unusually long fingers and distinct thumbs, and the tail and eyes of an elowey. She appears to lone travelers in the wilderness, almost exclusively on moonless nights. She will sit down at the fireside and strike up conversations in fluent (though antiquated and overly formal) Nekh, and it's usually only after she disappears that one notices that it's "kinda weird" that a dog was talking to them.

She is variously interpreted as a protective local spirit who guards travelers, and as a minor god of death that guides the living through moonless nights where the boundaries between the living and the Otherworld of the dead are thinnest. Sightings where she does not speak are regarded as omens of impending doom.

This folklore is contemporary, with the Hai-Taihe figure only showing up in stories from the past couple centuries and having no obvious presence in older mythology. Some scholars connect her to relics from the Sethym culture, extinct for almost a millenia. They left few direct records and their histories are distorted by generations of oral retelling, but motifs of a dogheaded elowey figure are common in the area, often in conjunction with sword imagery. The figure is often found on intricate metal amulets left as grave goods for high ranking clanmothers, and in stone or clay figures left in the boundaries of settlement territories (the latter commonly depicted as heavily pregnant)

[The meta reality not known in-universe: Hai-Taihe is an actual physical entity, a living god once known as [NAME FORGOTTEN] who was worshiped as a tutelary deity to the ancient Sethym. She was conceptualized as a mother to the people and the tutor of the sword, companion to the hunting god [NAME FORGOTTEN], who taught the people the spear.

The demon [NAME FORGOTTEN], a god of cannibalism and the dishonorable hunt, is said to have devoured the tutor of the spear. The tutor of the sword was chewed on and spat out half-dead while trying to rescue her, and her consumed companion was twisted in the demon's stomach and excreted as something new and terrible.

The tutor of the sword lost her identity with the cultural extinction of her worshipers and has found new life as Hai-Taihe, unable to distinguish the boundaries between her own mythology and living memory, both of which are half-remembered at best. She feels a great affection towards mortals and wanders in an endless, futile search for her companion, the devoured god now known as the spirit Arweny. She wishes to kill her, as an act of mercy.]

[amalthea-abstractions]

Okay but guys imagine all of the wonderful angsty Solavellan banter we can get between Rook and Solas

Rook: *interacts with a picture Solas painted, a poem, etc.*

Rook: Cute. So who’s the lucky lady?

Solas: Please refrain. Those are personal.

Rook: Oooh, the dread wolf has a private diary? A secret love life?

Solas: My “love life” is no business but my own.

Rook: I hate to break it to you, but it’s going to be reallly hard to not be in each other’s business for the foreseeable future.

Rook: Sooo, I have to ask.. are the rumors true? That you were interested in the inquisitor?

Solas: No. That is insulting.

Solas: I am in love with her.

Rook: “in”? As in, currently?

Solas: …I would prefer if we do not discuss the matter further.

Rook: *flirts with a companion*

Solas: Is that your attempt at entering a courtship?

Rook: Oi, butt out of it. What would you know about romance, anyway?

Solas: More than you, it seems.

Rook: *in an argument with a romanced partner*

Solas: You should make amends.

Rook: I did nothing wrong!!

Solas: Perhaps you feel that way currently. But you must ask yourself if losing what you have in the long run is worth this stubbornness. Do not allow love to become regret.

Rook: I honestly think this Inquisitor lady is blown way out of proportion. I doubt she’ll live up to the stories.

Solas: Do not insult Lady Lavellan. She is a kind and generous spirit that is rare to find in this world. Her bravery and selflessness are unlike any I have ever witnessed in my lifetime.

Rook: Ha! Gotcha! You DO still love her!

/Part 2/

[cy-cyborg]

It's been confirmed that there are 3 amputees in the main cast of Dragon Age: the veilguard - Neve (leg amputee), Bellara (arm amputee) and your inquisitor (arm amputee). So as an amputee myself, here are some things I'd like to see.

Note: these aren't predictions, just things I'd really like to be included.

The inquisitor doesn't use a prosthetic (I already talked about this in its own post but with 3 amputees, and 2 of them already being shown to use prosthetics that, lets be honest, do look like "perfect replacement" prosthetics, it would be nice to see at least one who doesn't)

We will get to customise our inquisitor in chatacter creation, so I would love, if they do use a prosthetic, for there to be some customisability to it (im not holding my breath there but still).

Neve and Bellara's prosthetics aren't perfect prosthetics, and they are actually acknowledged as being disabled while still being active members of your party.

There's some kind of party banter between Neve and Bellara about some of the downsides/problems with their prosthetics, not necessarily in a "poor them" way, but in a "ugh, don't you just hate it when you can't get the stupid thing on in the morning" kind of way.

I get a kind of jokey/adventurous vibe from Bellara, I hope they aren't affraid to let her use her prosthetic for pranks or jokes. I don't think neve would, but I can see bellara having a blast with it.

I hope the prosthetics come off during down time. No amputee wears their prosthetics 24/7, it's uncomfortable, and they get heavy and sore after using them all day.

I hope we see Neve express some frustration or see her alter her walk animation on rough terrain. It's hard to get a clear look because the trailers she's been shown in are so dark, but her foot doesn't look articulated, which is going to change how she walks, even just a little bit.

I hope the prosthetics don't break - this is a trope I'm starting to notice more and more, where someone has a perfect prosthetic that is only not a perfect replacement when it breaks, usually for plot reasons, at which point the character in question is forced out of the action until its fixed. DA has forced companions out of your party for story reasons before (e.g. solas after you free his spirit friend and he needs to cool off) so I can see this being used for plot, and I really hope it's not.

The inquisitor, Neve and Bellara compair prosthetists (the maker of the prosthetic) and maker techniques.

I really doubt they'll do this but I'd love it if random NPC's approach you if you have any of the amputees in your party to ask what happened and/or make weird comments at them ("but cy, that would be so annoying and inconvenient!" That's the point. So many people do that to irl amputees, and it's never at a convenient or even safe time, and I've never seen it happen in media. A game is arguably the best place to have it happen, in, say, a random event similar to the ones that could happen in origins)

In that same vein, I'd love to see a scene where someone approaches the inquisitor to call them an inspiration- you and the inquisitor assume it's for, you know, beating corripheus (I know I spelled it wrong lol) and saving the world, but it's revealed the chatacter has no idea who the hell the inquisitor is and just means it's inspiring that they're out in public "like that" - referring to their arm. This also happens to me all the time, and you can't tell me some snooty orlesean or tevinter noble wouldn't make those back-handed compliments, lol. You also can't convince me that any version of the inquisitor would just accept that

I hope none of the chatacters are used as inspiration porn ("don't you worry Rook! I can still pull my own weight on the team despite being an amputee, you just have to give me a chance to prove myself!")

At least one of the chatacter's stories of how they lost their limb is left untold in game (we don't always need to know how it happened if it's not relevent to the plot).

Like I said, these aren't predictions, just my hopes. I wouldn't hold my breath for any of these to be honest (bioware has not been the best in term of disability rep in the past) but A lot of them wouldn't be hard to implement and could take the representation from hardly even acknowledging their disability to something actually pretty decent disability rep-wise. It's also pretty rare to have so many characters with the same kind of disability in the cast of such a mainstream piece of media, and I really, really hope they do something with that because you can have a lot of fun with that.

[n0tamused]

Midnight thought that popped into my head… If you watched Spirited Away, do you remember a bunch of little black soot balls that carried coal around? What if the reader also works at the academy and has made herself a bunch of those little robots to fetch tools when she needs them? Imagine working on something with these little goofballs running around, making high-pitched robot noises and being useful at the same time, what a dream. The second part is, what if some of them started running to Xiangli Yao's office (and Academy too) to get tools (screwdrivers, hammers, etc.) because they couldn't find them in our office due to some errors (or some other reason)? Which led to a funny little investigation of missing items? Honestly saw it as already established relationship, but could be used as push-to-confession maybe? Can definitely see something like this: -My little babies would never steal! -Your… babies? -Erm, never mind…

Honestly, use this however you like if you do, the possibilities are endless and fun, no matter how you twist it, I have just come up with an example.

A/n: this was awfully sweet, but even with that I didn't imagine it would turn out this long. I do hope this is what you had in mind. I really enjoyed writing this. And hey, first Xiangli Yao fic! Yipeeee

Contents: Xiangli Yao x Reader, she/her pronouns, fluff

Words: 4221

Ko-fi

Steel Hearts

Little pitter-patters of feet echo down the empty corridor, the sound accompanied by the low mechanical buzz that could be said to be a coo or a call. Xiangli Yao had yet to get used to the new tiny companions around the Academy, although they made for an endearing sight when they got together to work. Xiangli Yao steps to the side of the corridor, slowing down his step as he notices a few Aideroids rush past diligently, carrying a few empty petri dishes, box of gloves and some unlabeled material samples. He tilted his head as they passed by, clicking and clacking without paying him any mind, like a line of ants as they made it straight for their queen - you. It would seem that the confusion of the recent incidents at the Academy have rubbed off on the Aideroids as well, otherwise known as Assistive Intelligence Droids, judging by how scattered they seemed after your own office has been subjected to a little... disaster, to put it plainly. It has pushed you to share an office with your colleague until the renovations are done, and while you had adjusted well, the little droids would always stop by the old office or by his own next to yours before finding you at last.

Xiangli Yao admired them and once he had run into a droid in the corner of his office that had gone down due to battery problems. He had fixed it up for you then. The droids weren’t admirable by looks alone, but by their design as well with their creator behind them. Although they seemed to be a nuisance of a sight for Mortefi, even he commented on their usefulness. The only thing everyone was against was to make them capable of flight. You agreed that the sight of so many droids buzzing about wouldn’t be quite comfortable.

He continued on into his office, looking over the report he had yet to finish, one he was looking forward to writing out. The half done pages reeked of promise and satisfaction, as they would come to represent the best part of the job in Xiangli Yao’s eyes. The end, the fruits of his labor. He hummed something low in his throat as he glimpsed an error in his grammar, making a mental note to fix it up later as he swung the door open and closed it behind it, failing to notice that the door had been creaked open already. Muscle memory brings his feet to his desk, and as he goes to put his papers down he is greeted by several singular eyes looking up at him, all scattered on and around his desk. He blinks at them in surprise, and for a moment they mirror his confusion and shock in equal measure, but as no command or response comes from his mouth, they swiftly return to their ‘work’ at his tools. One Aideroid was carrying the rubik's cube he liked to keep in his office, oftentimes fidgeting with it when he came into a slump during work hours. The Aideroid chucked it over the edge of the desk with a ‘kahooo’ and another similar sound came from below, where another droid caught the cube. Another droid was already halfway to the door with screwdrivers and small container of oil he uses to treat his prosthetic arm - had the door been unlocked, the little droid would have managed to escape the office with Yao’s belongings. 

“Hey, hey, hey- now, little friend. It seems you have plans for my things-” he speaks to the droid with a light laugh in his tone as he manages to pluck back the oil and screwdrivers from its clasping hands before it could truly clasp down. “Has Miss. (L/N) been in such desperate need of oil that she sends you to take mine?” 

The droid looks up at him and the lenses of its eye narrow and zoom in on the towering figure of Xiangli Yao, yet, ever loyal and determined to assist you, the droid lets out a disgruntled beeping sound, almost like a little howl. Its arms stretched upward, waiting for the tools to be given back to its hold. 

“Ah, no, my friend. I’m afraid I cannot give you these back” he says and turns towards the desk just as the droid carrying his cube walks by, and Yao swiftly takes the cube back as well, and then the microscope from the next droid, and a few pencils from the next few. By the time he’s up to his desk again, he feels as if he went through an attempted robbery, his arms full of his things and behind him he hears several voices of dissatisfied and demanding droids. He holds onto his lighthearted demeanor, a gentle and amused smile plastered over his lips as he sets back his belongings on his desk and back onto the shelves. “Miss. (L/n) would not want you to rob her colleagues, would she now? I know you don’t like returning to her with empty arms, but I can’t be giving you my own research and tools so easily” he tells the droids as if they’re a bunch of kids and for a moment he expects to be greeted with more protests as the droids all but stare at him in grave silence. Thankfully they do not pose more verbal danger, and scatter to climb onto one another and skillfully open the door before moving out again. Xiangli Yao can only stare at the space they occupied, still trying to acknowledge what has just happened. He was about to shake the thoughts of before he remembered the droids he passed in the corridor, now realizing the tools and materials they carried were his.

______________________________________________________

Black bolded letters lined every page, and page after page you scanned the book for the chapter you needed to fuel your brain for power which you desperately needed for this experiment. You sigh in disappointment as you find the chapter of your favorite book ripped out, leaving the next chapter as some distant tale you were yet to understand. You close the book with a thump and push it aside, returning to another set of letters on your research paper and the propped up tubes and test tubes and cylinders before you. Testing biological matter and the effects of the Waveworn Phenomena on them came with its limitations, but for all of those you managed to achieve quite a few breakthroughs in the last few years. 

You found yourself just short of other achievements, it was just an arms reach away yet you were stuck. Not understanding where you began to go over the same papers again, going through numbers, chemical formulas and the hypothesis at the start, but the important puzzle piece was yet to be revealed to your mind. The sound of small feet do not alarm you as they buzz behind you and move about the office. They came and went the entire day, bringing you your torn book and some other less important things at the moment, yet you acknowledged their need to be of help- it was in their code. Just like animals which flee or fight naturally when confronted with danger, the Aideroids wanted to help when confronted with your frown and furrowed brows. They knew something was amiss, so by bringing you all the tools and materials you previously praised them for, their droids’ minds hoped to see and hear the praise once more to know their daily task had been fulfilled. Yet, the last few days have been filled with your stagnant moods with not a sweet word in sight. The loss of the comforts of your own office was palpable even with the adjustments you’ve made - nothing can beat having your own space to do with as you please.

Your head hands low over the papers, forehead resting on your clasped palms as you let your eyes close. Searching for the answer deep in your mind, you fail to see the way forward and your mind swiftly wanders to imagery of the open fields, summer days and your favorite food stalls. Aideroids made their way up the side of your desk, carrying the microscope between them in their strong little arms, and as they set it before you with a small thump, you looked up to see it, a look of confusion falling over your eyes. “Now, why have you brought me this, AIDE?” you ask the droid group who coo at you in unison. “I already have a functional microscope..” you added, sighing at their attempt to assist you with no success. But before you can reprimand them and ask whose microscope they’ve taken, you see more of the droids climb up the desk with a glove box and unmarked materials sealed in small boxes. At that you were a bit more alarmed. Sitting up straight in your chair you feel a wave of anxiety come over you as you’re made to guess whose research they just snagged up with no pardon. “AIDE, where did you get this?” you asked as you took one of the sample bags one of the droids offered you. You carefully unpacked it and took a quick look inside, a bit more relieved to find it was only dirt samples from god knows where. But the other baggies held materials you weren’t trying to mess with, judging by their looks alone through the translucent bag. 

The droids coo and click, and on your watch monitor you can see the transcribed text that they were trying to convey. 

‘Xiangli Yao’s office, Baizhi’s office’.

You had to physically stop yourself from face palming at the sentence. Your little helpful companions resorting to stealing from your fellow colleagues, one of them a renowned genius? You thank god that most of them have already left the Academy for the day, and others were on break.

“Please, give the rest of those to me… I’ll have to give you another code input, this can’t happen again - you can’t just take other people’s belongings” you gently scold while the many pairs of eye just look at you, mechanically blinking and adjusting their lenses as they try to comprehend why you didn’t like what they’ve done. You have already gathered the things they took, carefully cradling the items in your arms as you tell them to stay in the office while you go and return them - hoping to also clear your mind with this brisk walk.

You turn the corner from your current office, closing the door behind you and your mind is running, hoping your droids haven’t done any damage, even if you have put all the necessary codes into their system that avoided damaging things, but who's to say they can’t malfunction or accidentally push somethin or-

“Ah! Xiangli Yao!” you nearly squeal as you run into him when you turn to go down the corridor leaning to his office, and like a kid caught with their hand in the candy jaw, you flush with items that are obviously his in your arms. You take a few steps back to put a more professional and comfortable distance between the two of you. You swallow the lump in your throat, hoping the warmth you felt wasn’t as visible on your skin as you imagined it to be. 

“Ah, Miss (L/N), it is you, and with quite an interesting assortment of things in tow” Yao greeted back, his eyes quickly catching on to the items in your hold, a warm smile pulling on his lips. “I was just about to pay you a visit. It would seem your Aideroids have been up to some mischief as of recent”

“Mischief?” you countered almost instantly, and be it fatigue or the knowledge that the droids weren’t mischievous by their nature, you almost took it as an insult. “Oh, you misunderstand. They aren’t mischievous, Xiangli Yao. They just.. need some code tuning” you added with a stubborn shake of your head, holding the items closer to your torso. 

“Oh? And is that why they have resorted to taking my things without being given permission beforehand?” Yao retorted, his voice a warm honey. Was he teasing you? 

You couldn’t muster up a laugh, your lips pressing together in a tight line out of some nervousness for feeling so cornered. “Xiangli Yao..” you began, sighing as you nearly trailed off - he had his point, yet you couldn’t let your little droids be subjected to any form of insults, even in jest! “That doesn’t mean they’re mischievous. Although their objective is flawed in execution, something I’ll have to fix later, I assure you they did not mean to deprive you of your own ability to conduct your work. This is why I have come to return your belongings by myself and.. apologies on their behalf - although the fault is also mine own for not having foreseen such a thing happening with them” you told him, nearly rushing through the entire sentence. “AIDE has told me some of these materials are also from Baizhi. Do you mind taking back the ones that are yours?” 

Xiangli Yao looks on at you, letting you speak and he nods at the question. Did this make you so riled up, or was it him? He had to admit, he felt rather weak in his word arsenal now. This has in no way ruined his day, nor has he meant any offense to you with his quips. The interaction it all led to between the two of you felt sweet to his heart, as most encounters between the two of you during the day felt almost artificial, all work no soul chatter which he found himself craving to have with you. And both of you needed solo time to recharge, but now it felt like there was emotion behind it, there was a heart. Yao wasn’t about to simply let it go to waste. But what does he say to make you more at ease?

“Of course. Here, why don’t you come to my office, I’ll also help you sort the other items out that belong to Baizhi afterwards” he offered as he took back his things, and also some more to lighten your load as some seemed at the point of slipping past your fingers. “Your droids are quite skilled to unlock doors previously locked - have you taught them to pick at locks?” he asked, his tone genuine as well as he recalled an occasion where he overheard Mortefi complaining to you about AIDE ‘breaking into his office’. 

You sigh at the memory. “No. I have not taught them any of that. Their objectives and codes only revolve around listening to my orders and helping me work, I genuinely don’t know where they got it to pick locks..” you tell him as you walk side by side to his office. His presence felt as if he was pressed right against your side, even if there was comfortable space between you, or perhaps that was just you overthinking the situation. Xiangli Yao’s company was always welcome, you wished your paths crossed more often during work, but alas..

“Admirable, really” Yao comments, looking up ahead and hastening his step to open the door with his elbow, leaving it wide open for you. You walk in and you can already tell AIDEs has been through here. Xiangli Yao sets down the items he had in his arms, returning the ones that belonged to him to their right place.

“Have..have they damaged anything of yours?” You cautiously asked as you looked around, almost expecting to see broken glass or torn papers.

“Oh no, they've done no harm. They were quite adamant on taking my things, however” he chuckles. “The group that I encountered in my office even wished to scold me for not allowing them to take the items back to you. Kahooting at me and beeping, heh. They even picked up the oil for my prosthetic” he said as he turned back to look at you, noticing how your brows curled in a worried expression, the cogs and wheels turning so loud he could nearly hear them from where he stood.

You sigh for the nth time, your shoulders slumping as you shake your head. “I'm really sorry for this, they really aren't like this. I'm assuming that the loss of my office, which was coded as their own ‘HQ’  , impacted them more than I imagined. They wouldn't do any of this otherwise “ You adjust the few small items in your arms, the sample bags stacked on top. 

Xiangli Yao hums in acknowledgement. “I understand that. Thankfully, that is an easy fix until your office is done and ready for use again. I often see the little guys lingering in front of the locked doors of the office.. makes me think they’re rather sentimental about the place” he nodded thoughtfully, and as he talked he approached you again, taking the items from you even after you tried to give a word of protest. 

“Although, I also have a suspicion it is not just the loss of their ‘HQ’ that is making them behave like this” Yao added as he motioned towards the door again, having you walk out first. You did as he requested, but you closed the door behind him before he could try to. You look at him quizzically, brows furrowed in confusion. 

“What do you mean?”

“Well..the droids’ objective is to help you reach an end in your research or daily tasks, yes? Have you perhaps not been able to reach an end of your work that the droids' could physically see? This is just my hypothesis but..uhh..” he trails off as he notices the weight of your stare, his eyes going back to the path ahead, focusing on going to Baizhi’s office. Was he being too prodding? 

You couldn't deny that his words held some water, but a part of you wasn't ready to simply say what you thought. The AIDE were a bunch of robots you created, scraps of metals and wires, and giving them any form of sentimental intelligence aloud felt wrong. Even if you treated them kindly and softly like puppies and cats countless times, you weren't going to risk being seen as soft and fragile in your workspace, in front of Yao no less. He wasn’t cold in any way, or unkind to either robots, people or animals - but you felt silly in your treatment of your helpful companions.

“Are you saying that the droids may have a.. small flaw in their system? Their code could use some fine tuning, that's for sure…” you replied, trailing off as you thought about it, relieving him of your gaze in the meantime. 

“Yes, that is what seems most plausible, although I do not know their code as well as you do” 

You nod and just shrug, too tired to think of inputting more codes and numbers, but you knew the task was unavoidable. “Yeah…I'll take a look at the codes once I'm back. Uh, you know where Baizhi keeps her things?”

“Not exactly in the way she has her things organized…but, we can just leave them in an orderly place. I can explain the situation to her in the morning for you, no worries” Xiangli Yao is about to hasten his step again but you make it a point to beat him to it, opening the door for him and keeping it open. You hear a huff of a laugh behind you but you do not immediately turn around to face him and see his expression. Yet when you do take a look, your heart jumps in your throat as he passes by you, giving you another one of his warm smiles.

You feel stiff compared to him, he who seems so carefree and professional. 

“You don't have to do that on my behalf. I'll just talk to her myself” you slide in next to him above Baizhi’s desk. It looks rather empty with how well organized it looks. Papers piled neatly on one end next to the simple lamp, pens in their pen holder, a few other things carefully tucked over the desk but besides that, there was nothing else on the desk. Everything else had its place on the shelves or in the drawers. You have to hold back your awe at it, remembering how much of an ‘organized mess’ your desk is. 

“It wouldn't be an inconvenience, Baizhi and I have a task we have to do together tomorrow,” Yao said as he sat the sample bags down along with the little boxes. 

You find yourself not knowing what to say, and suddenly you feel as if you're standing too close for comfort, your neck feeling too warm and you decide to pace away, taking in the office - one you have probably visited before but that fact wasn't important right now. 

“Coohoo, clack?” 

You both turn around and see several eyes staring back at you around the doorframe. 

Xiangli Yao chuckles as he sees that the little droids have, once again, managed to snag something of his to bring to you - this time the Rubik's cube from before. They murmur among themselves when they see him, and one at the front almost hisses when he approaches. The others rush in with the Rubik's Cube in tow, rushing straight to you. 

“Ah- not again…” you grumble as you crouch down to welcome your rowdy robot children in, taking the cube away from them as they crowd around your feet and tug lightly at the tail of your coat.  “I'm really sorry, Xiangli-”

“No, no, please, no need to apologize. Now that I look at this, I have a feeling they're trying to lift your spirits. Surely, AIDE realizes a Rubik’s Cube has no other use but momentary play”

You look up at him, joining in the stare group made from your droids who all can't seem to take their eyes off of him. 

“That…could be it. Hah, a rather cute thought, isn't it? I should give these guys a bit more praise, I think..” you feel yourself cracking slowly, the exhaustion and the weight of your unreached goals making your mind a fuzzy place. You feel your cheeks go warm again and cast your eyes down swiftly to take a look at your droids again.

“Quite so. Do you need help with the coding?” He suddenly asked as you rose to your feet, taking a careful step over the grouped up droids. You stumble and feel Yao grab onto your elbow to stabilize you. “Careful-”

“Thanks.. here's your, uhm, cube” you mutter as you hastily hand him the Rubik's cube even before you get to stand back properly on your feet. 

The droids coo in unison, first in surprise and then in relief when you don't fall. 

“And no, actually, I should be fine with doing the coding on my own. It will only take a bit, but anyway- I'd rather not be in your way any more than I already am.” You said as you found your feet again, the droids already gathering around your feet again and looking up at you and Yao unblinking. 

“In my way? Miss (L/N), you’re not in my way. I am offering you my help of my own free will, not out of pity or anything similar” he assures you and soon joins you in looking down at your droids when you fail to respond. This time he can’t help but notice the flush on your cheeks, but he doesn’t comment on it for your sake.

“These little ones are.. quite something” you added as your eyes gazed over them all, listening to their lenses “blink” and observe.

The droids huddle closer, almost climbing up over the other to reach better heights to either of you. His words from before strike you once more in that moment, and you find yourself thinking deeper about the issue at hand - although can you really call it an issue? The droids have done nothing but try their best to be of use to you, and not only in your work but in your mood as well. Would it be so wrong to treat them with a little more humanity? The droids seemed to favor Xiangli Yao in some ways too, as most of the items they brought back to you were his.

“Xiangli Yao..”

“Hm?” He tips his head to the side, looking over at you as you still observe the little ones.

“Could you actually..help me with these guys a bit? I think I want to do more than just coding changes, I'd like to add some more features - and you have more experience in this field than I do”

Xiangli Yao feels his heart swell with something he can't quite describe coherently in that moment, but he knows it is making him feel fuzzy and energized. “Of course! I'd love to - spending some time with these droids is going to be a time well spent”.

Although he loved the droids on their own, he was more so looking towards spending time with you. And where the droids were is where you are.

Ⓒ n0tamused. Do not repost, translate, edit, and/or copy any of my works. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.

[grimm-writings]

Hey! Can I request a falin x reader where reader is a lone researcher in the dungeon and stumbles into chimera falin and the two fall in love?

Maybe Like a 5 times the reader has met chimera falin and 1 time the two get to meet after she’s turned back type story?

beauty/beast

…ft! falin x gn! reader

…tags! 5+1 format, reader is like slightly unhinged, fluff with moments of angst, slight suggestiveness

…wc! 2789

…notes! grimm tries not to come off as a monsterkisser for nearly 2.7k words, the fic,,,, hope you enjoy!!!! i love chimera falin so bad… 

One

You can’t say you didn’t ask for this.

It’s a death sentence to traverse into a dungeon on your own, especially with your lack of combat skills.  If you were sane, you’d have hired a bodyguard to help take down monsters you couldn’t handle.  Fortunately, you are not, and decided instead you could very well handle monsters in a pacifistic way.

Any companion you told this to chose to stare at you like you admitted to dark magic.

So, you’ll simply prove the nay-sayers wrong!  After all, how hard can it be to tame some monsters?

Very hard, actually.  Like… incredibly.

You had to pride yourself in how you managed to sweet-talk some petty thieves for advice on monsters in the floor you’re currently on, even how to avoid orcs!  At least that much is out of the way.

As for fighting, well, sometimes a very sharp slap to the head with a book, or even the sharp tip of a pen can subdue anyone, if just to give you enough time to run.

Besides, blood makes for some extra ink if you just happened to come by a dead body!

Going purely on efficiency alone, you’re doing tremendous work!  When it comes to your study?  Not so much.

The purpose of coming all the way down here is that you have a very specific urge.  That being, to tame a beast.  Some researchers gained the will to try and do the same to elemental spirits, why not other monsters?

One of the most common rebuttals you receive is that monsters are animals, they can’t be tamed at all, and you shouldn’t even try lest you want your head bitten off.  Considering thus far you only got bitten by a walking mushroom, you think you’re doing rather well!  (You did take an hour to contemplate to yourself how a walking mushroom seemingly has teeth, though.)

That brings you now later to the fourth floor, trying to shield your notes from the water as you lament losing more ink.  Sure, you might write a little bit more than should be necessary, but you surely can’t be out already!

So, delight fills you as you peer past a doorway to see the top half of a woman face down on the floor.  Haha, you can likely drain her pretty easily for some ink!  Looks fresh enough, and some patches of her are already damp with red!

You skip over, humming as you do so, when all at once the woman jerks and looks up at you.  Her golden eyes pierce your own, making you freeze in place.  You wonder if something had gotten mixed up and a succubus ended up making its way to an upper floor, when the walls of the small tower the woman is inhabiting collapses.

A chimera screeches at you, as if telling you to leave it alone.  If you weren’t so awestruck, you would have tried to shush it, lure it towards you and petted its oddly human head.  Alas, you let the chicken-legged thing go, finding a safe haven for itself.

Day 1: I have found a beast in its purest form. I must pursue it. I must tame it.

Two

‘Obsession’ would be putting your experience lightly.

You had never wanted to gaze upon a monster as much as you wished to see the chimera again.  Unique is its proportions, the lower body of a dragon and the torso and head of an adult tallwoman.

To anyone else, its face must be more of a lure.  With the prettiest face and… great assets to boot, like a fish drawn to an angler fish's light, a blindsided adventurer comes near.

You had tried to navigate where the beast has gone, observing the damages of certain areas to lead you closer to it.

Thoughts course through your mind like speckles of a daydream as you walk and walk and walk, trying to sneak past other enemies and adventurers as you do so.  What would its feathers feel like?  Is it different from the mop of blonde hair on its head?  You didn’t get the chance to observe its eyes – are they human or monster?  What of its body heat?  What is its diet?

Ah.  Diet.

Your own body stops walking in realisation.  By all means, comparing their mouth to the rest of their body, it’s ultimately impossible for the chimera to have a stable diet in this dungeon, correct?

Perhaps… you need to make a lure of your own.

Even after days of navigating the dungeon, you still have plenty of rations from the surface remaining in your bag.  Hopefully the chimera likes the most noble meal one can fit inside a lunchbox — meats and pasta with the richest sauce.  One could say your taste in meals is unique, eliciting a morbid curiosity.  If the beast is more in tune with its human side, it will react the same.

You don’t know what tempted you to arrange a table with two chairs on either side.  It’s not like the chimera could fit, but it was only suitable for your first formal meeting with it!  Oh, how you can’t wait to observe it eating, and so close…!

If you’re lucky, it may even attempt to taste you.

You promptly shake off the thought.

What you focus on now is to draw the chimera near.  It seems to favour secluded areas, but has been seemingly chased around.  Aw, is it scared of humans?  That’s just adorable!  Or, maybe, it’s resting before setting off on a search…  Now that’d be some juicy stuff!  Who’s the chimera’s prey?  Another monster, or humans?

Oh, of course you’ll use yourself as bait.  You’re not a coward!

You know basic enough spells that you won’t be entirely drained of mana upon use, lighting up a route to catch the chimera’s attention upon spotting it.  Down you lead it, making yourself look as bright and delectable as possible, before sitting in your seat, your meal readily prepared for the chimera.

You smile up at her as she pokes at the food you prepared, and she begins to eat.

Day 3: The beast was very hungry upon encounter.  Even when she finished the meal, she insisted on having something more.  I complied, and soon I had emptied my entire share of rations.  The chimera eats food made for humans easily. This elicits curiosity – it might be proof enough that the chimera’s existence in this dungeon is unnatural.  Even now, it looks too… human.  I feel uncomfortable now referring to the beast as such – an ‘it’. Thus, I will refer to the chimera as ‘she’ from here on.  It suits her.  She truly is magnificent.   All signs point to her being an attempt at creating a ‘beast-kin’, but instead of using the soul of a monster and body of a human, it’s as if it’s a mesh of both.  A disgustingly beautiful transformation.  To compare, it is not dissimilar to the breeding of a pug.  Deliberately done to appease someone, something.  A selfish birth. Someone must be wanting to do the same as I to the chimera – tame her to their whims. …I’ll have to look further into this.

Three

You feel less in control of your studies these days.

The more you hang around the dungeon, scavenging for food and following your muse, the more insane you feel.  But, for the sake of research, you power through.

The chimera, she has been opening herself up to you.  When she gets anxious, her feathers ruffle, and you shush her with pets.  She calms down occasionally.  Once, you had encountered her, blood on her body and under her fingernails.  You cleaned her using the mana-infused water.  She had never looked so calm.

She doesn’t feel like a monster you have tamed, but a friend.

This scares you.

Sure, there’s the possibility that the chimera is an unnatural phenomenon, and isn’t even a monster.

But that also means you’re losing your resolve.

The chimera sits with you, as you scrub her red-scaled talons free of dirt and blood.  Her upper body leans on you, resting.  You can even hear little chirps slipping from her lips.

She’s so cute.

Even as her golden eyes soften, the small slits in them dilating to exhibit relaxation, she smiles at you.  You don’t flinch when her hands take your face to look at you.  She’s a bird after all – she might be trying to memorise you, how you look, so she knows not to hurt you in the future.

You were nearly about to reminisce on your further embarrassment when the chimera speaks.

Four words.  She spoke four words in the common language, leaving you staring at her.  You’re speechless.  She must know that she’s caught you off guard as she slowly tucks your hair behind your ear and moves away.

The moment is quickly ruined.  “Dragon!”  A boyish voice calls.  “There you are.  You’ve been leaving my side so frequently.  There’s no time to–”

An elf in a cloak freezes upon noticing you.  His heavy eye bags rival your own as he glares down at your sitting position.

You don’t do anything, merely looking up at your friend in confusion.  She is back to being silent again, reaching her arms out to the elf, as if about to pick him up.  He swats at her, before pointing at you.

“Kill them,” he demands her.

She hesitates.  You also find yourself unable to move.  So the chimera is under someone’s control after all.  This elf, forcing you apart from your friend.

You hardly process your friend lifting you off the floor, her fingers closing in around your throat.  Tighter and tighter.  Your eyes can barely make out her empty expression as she squeezes the life out of your lungs.

Snap.

You fall onto the floor, and the mad mage leaves with his dragon in tow.

Day ??: “My name is Falin.” The chimera told me this last time we encountered one another.  She has a name.  A beautiful name that belongs just to her.  Falin. …I would say ‘my Falin’, but she is not.  She is under the control of that elf.  I wouldn’t want her to be my Falin anyway. She shouldn’t belong to anyone. I was revived by a kindly Eastern woman, who is accompanying a group of retainers following their lord.  They are joined by another party, also recently revived. Apparently, in my revival, I had uttered her name, “Falin,” and captured the attention of the malnourished lord. He is looking for her. …I was informed she is his love. Pushing personal feelings aside, I asked to come along.  I neglected to mention Falin’s current state.  I couldn’t do that to him right now.  Maybe once he sleeps, or eats… but not now. Falin, I wish to save you.  That is my goal now. You are not a monster to be tamed.

Four

Today, you met Laios Touden.

He is Falin’s older brother, you learn.

You met a lot of people, actually.  You met Falin’s party, an elf who Falin went to school with, as well as Laios Touden.

“You’ve seen Falin?”  He asks you, brow creased.  He had leaned forward in interest.  Lord Toshiro, Kabru, and Asebi were also listening to you with intrigue.

You nod.  “Yes, but I fear the situation might be a little more than you have bargained for,” you vaguely inform.

Your words would be interrupted by Laios’ request to talk privately with Toshiro, to which you comply.  You do already have a feeling of what's being said, something Kabru seems to pick up on as he glances over at you.

“Falin… isn’t faring well, is she?”

“Not in the traditional sense,” you reply.  Kabru grimaces, clearly not appreciating your rather… erratic way of conversing.  You add before he could talk back, “she’ll come back for me.”

Kabru furrows his brow.  “Excuse me?”

His question remains unanswered until you are swept up in a heated battle.  Looks of horror cross everyone’s faces at the bloody acts committed by the chimera.

You merely smile.

“Hello beauty,” you whisper when she turns to you.  Falin steps forward, cornering you.  You welcome her with open arms – and the world becomes dark again.

Day ??: Scorned though I may be by Lord Toshiro, I know myself not to be mad, but in love. Yes, I am in love.  I know this now for certain. I know that he, too, is in love.  I do not see his wishes badly.  In fact, from a sane man’s mouth, it is perfectly understandable.  Dark magic is dangerous.  As is love.  He’s risking his own reputation for it, even if others don’t appear to see things the way he does. But when push comes to shove, I am not that sane man.  I am joining Laios Touden’s party in the retrieval of Falin. The aftermath of the battle consisted of a hearty meal.  Who knew monsters could taste so nice?  Keep this in mind for the next adventure. I had figured this all came from the result of black magic.  Marcille Donato is a much more interesting woman than I thought.  I’m sure I could learn a lot from her. Hence, we march forward.  I know you aren’t in your right mind, Falin, but trust that I am. I will risk it all for you, beauty.

Five

The ice is cold underneath your fingertips.  The woman encased inside is relaxed, as if she’s merely asleep.  To see her completely separated from the lower half of the chimera body was something uncanny to you, so used to seeing her towering over you, able to squash you like a bug.

You turn to Marcille as she approaches.  “You had the right mind, keeping her fresh like this.  Deep down, you really did want to follow through with the plan!”

The blonde elf is sheepish.  “I did end up causing a right mess in the end.  It… It was selfish of me.”

“It was love,” you reply.

“Not the love Falin needs, though,” she finishes.

You both stare up at her in silence.  If you were delusional enough, you could swear you could see Falin breathing.

“I love her,” you admit, quieter than you have ever been.  “Is that alright with you?”

Marcille turns to you, her eyes wide.  For such a gossip, she really hasn’t picked up on it?

“I…”  She hesitates.  Her hands reach her trousers, and she scrunches up the fabric in her hands.  “It’s not my choice what – or who – Falin chooses.  I don’t think I have the right to decide anything for her.”

You nod, graciously taking Marcille’s word to heart.

You feel you’ve also changed throughout your journey.  Volatile as you may be, you appreciate Falin as she is.  An untamed beauty.  Not for anyone to claim or put their ideals onto.

She’s simply Falin.

“Come on,” Marcille takes your hand.  She has the kind of look on her face where you know she accepts you readily.  “Let’s go eat, okay?  For Falin.”

You smile back.  “For Falin.”

I don’t care about the day anymore. Falin is being revived today.  Soon, I’ll have a chance to meet the real her.  The beauty behind the beast. Ha.  I haven’t called her that for a while. Maybe I’ll follow Toshiro’s way and propose immediately too?  No, Marcille may accept me, but that might result in another need for revival. I can’t wait to get to know you.

the first time

Falin opens the door with a dazed expression, not expecting the crowd waiting around the door.  Of course, this resulted in quite the hoo-ha.  People running around, celebrating the successful revival of Falin Touden.  You wait patiently for you to be welcomed once more.

The woman is sitting calmly at her bed.  Some of her features are still feathered, but you’ve always liked how they felt underneath your fingertips.

She glances up at you, examining your form.

You’re taller than she thought.

“Hi,” you say, handing over a random blade of grass you picked.

Falin takes it.  Her fingers brush against your own.  She starts twirling the natural green between her fingers.  She smiles warmly.  “Hello,” her soft, tired voice returns.  It’s so sweet that you might melt.  “My name is Falin.  It’s nice to meet you.”

You know from the way she glances up at you that she already remembers you quite well.

Feeling the happiest you’ve ever been, you fall into Falin, pulling her into the tightest of hugs.

“It’s so wonderful to meet you too, beauty.”

Today, she asked me if she could belong to me. I said yes, but only if she belonged to herself first. She accepted.

[lagunapoint]

I've been thinking about something. Lavellan is the only woman in Solas's life who knows his contemplative, serene, and solitary-melancholic side. That part of him that outwardly yearns for peace and love, isn’t it? A woman who never manipulated him but simply listened (or didn’t) to his advice and sought his help. She didn’t know about his past, and he could present himself to her as he wished. It was a big opportunity for Solas to remember something forgotten about himself. Of course, he loves Lavellan, and the phrase about a "rare spirit" takes on a deeper meaning. Lavellan believes in the best in him, while everyone else around him sees only a brilliant strategist for achieving their ends. And this plays so well in contrast to his relationship with Mythal, who saw him as a means to an end, no doubt. She led him down the path of war. She nudged him, approved, and let him make choices leading, at the very least, to genocide.

Solas’s phrase, one of his regrets, when he asks Mythal to leave the Evanuris. Could it be that Solas admits he has doubts about what he’s doing and is ready to turn back? But then Mythal hooks him with the word love and he melts again. If she approves, then everything’s okay.

And here he is, left without his power, without his people, in a world where no one knows him, and where he knows nothing. And he meets a woman who is, for many, a symbol of faith, a deity. She begins to build her own order, faith around her strengthens, the power of the Inquisition grows, and I think Solas might have felt a sense of déjà vu in many ways here. However, this woman doesn’t choose the path of "achieving her goals through death." Perhaps it wasn’t only Lavellan herself who served as an example for Solas that there are other ways to overthrow a false god obsessed with the blight (hello corypheus, hello evanuris), but also the entire Inquisition, with all its advisors, companions, and the final victory, showed him that goals can be achieved differently. Maybe in moments of silence, he wondered how things might have turned out if Mythal had been like Lavellan. Maybe they wouldn’t have touched the Titans at all, and nothing would’ve happened. Or if instead of Mythal, it had always been Lavellan? I like this version better. Solas would have had an entirely different path. I don’t know, just an idea my head is such a mess.

And I can't shake the thought that Mythal wanted to remain the supreme deity, and that the true god of betrayal and deceit is her. This fits the logic of the updated lore good gods = bad gods. And if that were true, how cunning one would have to be to deceive wisdom itself.

Thoughts?

[silmarillaure]

Something I noticed about the Feanorians…

A&A seem to take mostly after Nerdanel, specifically in the later drafts

Amrod clearly had very different ideas from Feanor at Losgar, wishing to leave & get back to his mother who initially pleaded with him to stay. Or if he wasn’t on the ships to go back, he at least seemed to expect the ships would be sent back to his uncle’s host.

Amras was brave enough to speak against Feanor after losing his brother, something the others did not do, & then minded his own business in ME instead of causing trouble besides his involvement in the Kinslayings, which may be inherited wisdom from Nerdanel as she also stayed out of conflict.

3C almost take exclusively after Feanor

Celegorm is Feanor with a greater fall from greatness

I think Celegorm started out as a better person than Feanor. Maybe it was due to lacking the trauma & grief that plagued Feanor since birth, but he seemed to have held no ill will towards even those his beloved father held in contempt. He was once someone who befriended so many of his half cousins with little reason to have an ulterior motive for doing it, and was a valued companion of Orome, being the most famous elven hunter in the Legendarium.

He doesn’t sound like someone rotten from the start, yet he became someone more infamous & hated than Feanor had ever been.

Caranthir is Feanor who changed for the better

The dark one, the angry harsh one, the loner. You’d think this would be the son of Feanor who turned out the worst & most hated right, rather than his fair & social brother who was once favored by a Vala?

Caranthir’s descriptions do not paint him pleasantly. He inherited a temper from Feanor & he was undoubtedly being a little cruel, like his father was capable of being, in that scene with Angrod. Yet unlike Feanor, he changed. He never became a perfect person, but he learned to keep his emotions in check & became a better person. He went from a haughty a-hole who fought with everyone he was displeased by to a guy who helped others, made alliances, & saved people.

Coming to Middle Earth improved him as much as it worsened Celegorm. Had it not been for the oath & kinslayings, I think he could have been fulfilled to his greatest potential as much as Finrod & Turgon were.

Curufin is Feanor without an identity

I have less to say on him than I do the other 2 Cs because we already know how Curufin is like Feanor. He’s Curufinwe, but he’s not Feanaro.

He has the face & body, but not the soul. The spirit of fire, an essential component to who Feanor is.

Feanor was revered as much as he was hated, Curufin is just hated. Feanor was everything Curufin is, yet Curufin is nothing close to what Feanor was.

M&M have both so much of Feanor & so much of Nerdanel in them at once, yet in different ways

Maglor's temperament is canonically his mother's. He has her gentleness & rationality. But though he is kind, he has a brutally unforgiving side to him, which likely comes from Feanor. He's an artist like both his parents, but like Feanor, he's a prodigy.

Maedhros's most famous feature, his hair, is Nerdanel's. His kindness, wisdom, & morality are his mother's.

Everything except for his father's craft, Maedhros's shares with Feanor. His fury, his pride, his fierce unshakable love, his loyalty, his bravery, his soul, are all his father's.

[millersfinest]

little death | c.k

part one

fledgling vampire!caitlyn kiramman & old vampire!reader

wc: 4k

blurb: her longing spirit was the very thing to draw you to her—come to me, come to me. after many years alone, you’d found a companion worthy enough to be yours. but creating a vampire of your own is not easy. even if you are consistently stricken by her delicate beauty and form. the prettiest of birds could still be a thorn in your side.

warnings: MDNI, descriptions of blood, vampirism, lestat coded reader, louis coded cait, cannibalistic themes (ish), eroticism (surrounding vampirism), eventual s m u t, a little toxic, slight manipulation, use of pet names, anne rice vampires.

note: i was watching interview with the vampire (the movie, but i have seen the show) and i immediately got inspired, especially since halloween is so close. please, enjoy the expression of my love for vampires. (btw this will be a two part series).

⋆·˚ ༘ *

The sweetness of her scent has lured you onto the damp cobblestones of England. Her racing thoughts breadcrumbed you to follow her path down dark streets that were haunted by whores and pickpockets.

It wasn’t like her to be in the slums of the city—that wasn’t where she was from. No, she was from the higher points of society. Where the sun cascaded through her large windows every morning. Maids infiltrated her sleeping quarters with different gown options at the break of dawn; handmaidens offering to primp and prime her for the day.

Yet, there she was, slipping through the worst parts of London. And what for? You wondered, lingering in the dark amongst the worldly sin that acted as a decoy for your damned persona.

The fair-skinned woman, hiding under a top-hat, ducked into a structure that resembled any other tenement on the street. But when the heavy mahogany door wailed from its hinges, you caught a whiff of perspiring human bodies—in other words, sex. It was pungent, hard to miss.

You frowned from the shadows, listening to the repeating voices in her mind. One last time— this is my last time. Before my hand belongs to someone else… Her thoughts began to drown out by silence, frustrating you.

It wasn’t often that you found yourself obsessed with struggling mortals. Perhaps, her beauty commanded you to watch over her, like the angel of darkness that you are. Looming over her, predatorily, profusely, passionately.

The apparition of your figure appeared on the balcony of the room she rented for the night. Forcefully, you swung the french double doors open, short heels clicking against the floor as you entered. A woman caked in makeup laid atop of your object of desire; with her hands shoved into her expensive trousers of pretend.

The whorish woman flinched at your entrance, meeting your haunting gaze. Her breasts heaving through the binds of her satiny corset. Fright radiating from her olive-toned skin. From the crevice of her shoulder, the woman who entranced your immortal being, peered. The coolness of her blue eyes pierced through you. Come to me. Or was that your obsession talking?

“You…” She muttered under her breath, nearly forgetting about the woman atop of her, straddling her.

Your steps were menacingly slow, approaching the bed bound by four wooden poles. The bedroom was grand for a whorehouse. The pace of your steps quickened fast enough to be missed by a mortal's eyes. The whore appeared in your arms, rather than on the lap of the high-born woman.

Her back was firm against the front of your body, unblemished fingers running along the plushness of her rouged lips, down her jaw; then, down the cleavage of her breasts. Drawing a small droplet of blood from the puncture of your sharp fingernail.

“This is what interests you, my love?” You pull her head to the side, revealing the artery that you’ve adored for centuries. The paleness of your irises latching onto hers, hungrily.

The woman in your arms whimpered, but you were a gentle feeder. Your touch is what calmed your prey—it was a gift. Every vampire was born with one. “Shh, little dove…” You hummed in her ear, licking the skin of cartilage. “Your time has come.” The sharpness of your teeth scraped at her skin.

Your obsession leaped from the bed, with her hands in front of her. “Stop it— don’t hurt her!” She exclaimed, wearily. She shared the same fear as the woman in your arm had. “It’s me that you want… Right? You can have me… I’m all yours, just— just let her go.”

She knew of you. The memories that sequestered in the depths of her mind began to paint a picture in yours. The imagery of your figure was shown to you at a ball. Waltzing with the many men that wrote their names on your calling card. You remember that night, vividly. Because that’s when you first saw her—Caitlyn.

Dressed in a shimmering frock that wasn’t modest in the slightest, but had enough coverage to not be mistaken for a woman of the night. Her parents were debuting her, announcing to the ton that she was ready to be married.

Oh, she was beautiful that night. And every night after. Once you caught her nectarine scent, she was all yours indeed.

“I have quite the appetite…” You feigned thought, looking between her and the woman in your arms. “I’ll have you both.” The sharpness of your teeth penetrated her soft skin. Her hand tried to claw at you, but she was no match for your strength. You were sucking the life out of her, quite literally.

Her life source wasn’t as sweet as you had wished—nothing could imitate your truest craving. It had a tartness to its flavor. There must’ve been too much alcohol or drugs in her system. Either way, it’s been days since you had your last meal—your flesh called for fresh, warm blood. So, you drowned in her.

Lowering her body to the ground as you inhaled the last bits of her. Pulled by the confines of your species, you didn’t notice that Caitlyn procured herself a bow and arrow. Tip sharp with authentic silver—where did she find that?

Your eyes glowered at her from over the whores’ fallen body. Lips stained, dribbling with the remnants of her blood. Sharp teeth tainted like they have been many times before. “I’ve heard the stories about you, night witch.” You licked your lips, slowly standing to your feet.

Caitlyn had pulled the string taut, ready to send that arrow flying toward your heart. “You have been following me— stalking me for a fortnight! I want nothing to do with your… Darkness.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, pouting your stained lips. “My… Darkness?” The woman’s blood had slipped down your chin, down the valley of your deep crimson gown. “I only come to those who call to me.”

Defeating the laws of humanity, you appear behind her, flinging the bow and arrow from her grips. Your other pressed her body against yours with unencumbered strength. “Your thoughts called out to me— needed, wanted me. Here I am and you’re trying to entrap me…?” Caitlyn fought against you, but to no avail. The side of your face pressed into hers, inhaling her sweetness. Releasing a sigh of pleasure from its potency.

“I ought to punish you…” She whimpered, feeling the sharpness of your teeth on her skin. Your tongue licks the side of her neck, sensually. Hovering your lips over her ear, you whisper. “However, the plans that I have for you don’t include punishment.” You spin her body around to face you completely. Her body is frozen in paralysis—letting you move her as you pleased. As if she were compelled under your strong gaze. “Only gifts. Many, many gifts.”

Her bright eyes were wide, taking in your features, with arms loosely draped at her sides—limp. “Your beauty will not be taken for granted…” You mutter, gently caressing the skin of her cheeks.

“Are you going to kill me…?”

“Oh, sweet, sweet love…” You pushed pieces of her hair from her face. “Not in the way that you think.” Leaning your face into the crevice of her neck, you nick her skin. A droplet of her blood blossoms over your tongue.

With that, you disappear from her body. Leaving the whispers of a pleasured moan behind. Caitlyn wavered like a lonely, thorned rose. She wanted to scream for help, but drawing attention to her whereabouts was not what she could afford. So, she crawled down the vines that grew up the walls of the brothel, leaping into a prickly bush. She left nothing of hers behind, but a kiss on the woman’s cheek who was fallen on the floor.

It was true that she had called out to you. The stories of dark angels burdening mortals with eternal life—or eternal suffering—was in the storybooks she read as a child. Now, easing into her adulthood. Responsibilities were beginning to strike her. Caitlyn was due to become a wife of a Lord, despite her insignificant wishes.

She complained in her mind for weeks before you showed your face to her, at the ball. When she saw you twirling hand-in-hand with dapperly dressed men, she knew you’d come to pull her from her misery. But her fear remained encompassed in her muscles. Which is why under her long coat, she armed herself with a bow.

Even though she couldn’t bring herself to thrum the string.

The next time your eyes fell on the beautiful Lady, it was the celebration of her wedding. Her family had thrown a ball, and unbeknownst to your immortal being, you received an invitation. In the eyes of most society, you were only an esteemed woman. If people knew about your bloody habits, it’s because you let them. In turn, meaning that they were not going to be alive for much longer. Humans could barely hold water, let alone a secret as important as vampirism.

Your beloved Caitlyn had said her vows to a man riddled with money. She was to be set for life—and her children.

When her solemn sapphire irises found you by the lemonade table, without a drink in your hand, speaking to one of the overbearing mamas of the ton, she froze. Her slender fingers were intertwined with her father’s, trying to waltz away from her fate. Inadvertently, she called out to you, again. Unsure of what that really meant for her.

The last time you seen each other, you admitted that you were planning to kill her. In truth, that left her frightened for days. She hadn’t slept soundly since that night. However, the thought that plagued her mind was if death would be better than marriage. Caitlyn never took kindly to the men of the ton, or any man for that matter. Yet, here she was, married to one.

The last step was consummation—and that was something she absolutely refused!

Patiently, you waited for the perfect time to sequester her. To narrow in on your beautiful prey; to cage her in your arms, and pull the life from her eyes just enough to give her a brand new opportunity.

It was in her final moments alone. In her chambers, dressed in a translucent cream sleeping gown. Her long indigo strands fell down her back in waves, front pieces pushed behind her ears. She was due to her husband soon, but her fingers trembled above her vanity.

When she felt your aged presence infiltrate her bedroom, her posture stiffened. But there was a sense of relief. “You have finally come to take me…” Caitlyn muttered, hopelessly. Her eyes caught the reflection of you wandering around her room. Fingers trailing over her trinkets and paintings on the wall. “What took you so long?”

Your eyes shot to hers through the mirror, as she didn’t risk facing you just yet. “Are you admitting to wanting my kiss of death, beloved?” Scaling her mind, you sifted through her anxious thoughts. The tall woman turned toward you, achingly.

“You promised to kill me… But not in the way that I would think. What does that mean?”

Instead of directly answering her question, you slightly divert. “How does a woman from a large, well-known family become so small?” You pace around her chamber, with sickeningly slow steps. The trail of your mahogany gown dragging along the wooden panels of the floor. “For weeks, your thoughts had been calling out to me for some resolution. That is what I’m offering to you… Resolution. Absolution.”

Caitlyn stood to her feet, clad in thin slippers. She couldn’t explain it, but she felt drawn to you. The softness of your speech was alluring—comforting in the face of death. You held out a delicate hand toward her. Fingers cold, remnant of what you were, beckoning her forward. She slid her hand into yours, reaching for you while her body still took the time to catch up. “Let me release you, Caitlyn, from the shackles of propriety and fabrication… And everything you don’t desire carnally.”

Slowly, she blinks, under the spell of your ancient beauty. Your hand creeps up from her hand, up her arm, finding solace in the crevice of her neck. Pulling her close, her sapphires bore into yours.

Time stops with her in your arms. Your beloved Caitlyn, finally succumbing to you just like you knew that she would. “You’ll never have to see him again… Unless you want to. By then he’d be eons beneath you.” She leaned into your hand, looking at you with doe eyes. You hover your lips over hers, breathing in the last moments of her humanity. “This is only a little death.”

She pushes forward, subtly, with wanting for your lips to touch. They only brush each other because you pull back. “I’ve only heard your thoughts— tell me you want absolution. Tell me you want me.”

Her hand trailed up your forearm, holding your wrist for support. The thumb of her hand caressing your skin. “I want you.” Her voice barely skipped over a whisper, pulling her body closer to yours. “I want absolution. I want you.” Caitlyn chanted, breathily.

Pressing your lips against hers, she fell victim to you. Whining against your lips as if this was something she had always wanted. The taste of sweetened lemons and cinnamon danced over your tongue. Bracing your arm against her back, your feet lift from the floor. Lips trailing down her jaw, leaving wet kisses against the skin you were preparing to puncture with your teeth. Her arms wrapped around your neck, unaware of the hovering of your bodies. Still, chanting the words you wanted to hear.

A whimper left her rouge-stained lips when you bit into her jugular. Clenching the roots of your hair. Vermilion liquid slipped from the corners of your mouth as you fed on her bodily energy. You had to drain her to the near brink of death, but her flavor was so intoxicating. You were beginning to wonder if you could willingly stop.

After all, you weren’t the most controlled vampire.

Groaning against her skin, you tightened your grip. Her hands began to loosen in your hair, arms falling limb to her sides. Taking everything in you, whipping your head up, you stopped yourself. Caitlyn’s eyes had rolled to the back of her head, but she was still there. Head nodding in a state that she wouldn’t survive in for long.

Gently, you lay her down on her bed, pushing her hair from her face. “Only a little death.” You repeat, biting into your wrist to share your gift. Living her head, you press your wrist to her drying lips. “Drink, my love. Drink.”

And she does. With every drawl, her strength grows. Arms reaching up to push your wrist deeper into her face—as if it could go any further. You winced but accepted the pain of your fledgling. Her thirst light eyes looked up at you from her awkward position on the bed. They enticed you more than anything ever had, allowing her to put you through pain, weakening you. “Enough…” You mumble, stammering. “That’s enough!” Snatching your arm from her grasp, you stumble backwards.

Leaning on the bedpost near her legs, you heave, wishing to regain your strength. A mischievous curl appeared on Caitlyn’s lips, but before she could revel, she crunched up like a piece of shrimp. Her hand clawed at her stomach, gagging like she wanted to throw up. “It… Hurts… Ahh!”

You run closer to her, placing a hand over her bloody lips. “That’s your body dying… You need to stay quiet before someone hears.”

Her eyes clamped shut as she groaned into your hand. Sighing, you shut your eyes. Perhaps, you forgot to think this part through. With your remaining amounts of strength—which wasn’t much—you picked her up. Placing one arm under her legs and the other supporting her back. Then, you leaped off her balcony and ascended toward your luxurious manor.

It was like you had appeared in another location, rather than flown there. Caitlyn was stuck in a haze of pain, wallowing on the bed you placed her on—yours. “Please, help me! Take away my pain!”

“I cannot do that. It’s something every one of us endures, sweet thing.” Your fingers caressed her paling face, running along her dark eyebrows. Sooner than later, she goes unconscious; and you watch as the beauty of her features embellish.

Caitlyn Kiramman didn’t need to be immortal to inhabit the nature of beauty. Her stoic features were burned into your mind the very moment you saw her and her silhouette. From this moment forth, she belonged to no one but you—she was your companion for all eternity.

When she opened her eyes to reap the benefits of the reborn, you weren’t anywhere to be seen. Her sight was clearer than ever—she could see the accumulation of dust on the crevices of your floral wallpaper. The spider weaving a sticky web in the wooden shutters on your long windows.

Caitlyn wandered the dim halls of your manor in search for you. Clenching and releasing her fists, as her slippered feet shuffled against the floor. She passed portraits of you hooked onto the walls. Where the gowns you wore exposed the time of the painting's creation. Then, she passed a dark corridor. Her curiosity getting the best of her, she wandered. Peeking into the room with a creaked door.

Her pale fingers pushed it, lightly. It’s hinges cracking under the subtle pressure. Two coffins remained, there was no bed frame or mattress. Just elegantly carved coffins—side by side.

She eventually found you sat at a long dining table only covered in expensive décor. Bronze five-headed candle holders, each wax stick blazed with a flame. There were only two chairs at the table: one for you, and assumably, one for her. A glass of a red, thick substance sat before you. The sides stained with its color—you’ve been drinking it.

“You’re awake…” You mused, shutting the small book in your hands. “Please, sit.”

A maid steps forward from out of nowhere, pulling the chair back for Caitlyn to take a seat at the table. Hesitantly, she does. Her eyes leveling on the female maid, chewing the soft skin of her bottom lip. “How do you feel?”

Her eyes were still taking in the interior of your home. It was inspired by the Strasbourg cathedral—gothic in all its glory. It wasn’t the same French style that the majority of England was interested in.

“I feel… I feel different.” Her voice was much smoother than before. More elegant—if that was even possible. She sighed, placing her hand against her stomach. “Very hungry, as well. Do you have any food here? Sandwiches?”

A boisterous laugh falls from your lips, but you cover your mouth with a white handkerchief. “Sandwiches? No, there are no sandwiches here.” You take the glass filled with blood between your fingers. “But, if lunch is what you desire. She’s right behind you.”

Her eyebrows furrow, peering back at the maid who had just pulled out her chair. Her head was down, hands folded in front of her body, politely. “What…?”

“Your body will no longer digest human food.” You explained, concisely. “She is now your diet.” There was still hesitation coming from your fledgling. Frowning, you narrowed your eyes, tightening your jaw. “If you don’t feed, you will die. And that death would be far from little.”

Her now paled irises looked back at the maid. “Go ahead, Miss Luther.” You wave your hand in the direction of Caitlyn. The woman was young with flushed cheeks and freckles that spread from the middle of her face. Her blond hair was pushed back by a pleaded coiffe.

The maid sits on her lap, without being asked. Causing Caitlyn to peer a crossing the table at you, with a slight glare. Miss Luther tilted her head to the side, exposing healing puncture wounds that were made by you. Caitlyn spoke your name like a warning. “I’m overwhelmed…” She squeaked, drifting her hands up the maids body.

“Well, you need to eat.”

“I don’t want to hurt her.”

The maid turned toward the Lady, smiling sweetly. “It’ll only be a pinch. I’m used to it.” She paused, looking down at the fledgling. “I offer myself to you, my Lady.”

With that, her eyes widened, shooting up from her seat. She flung her back so hard into the wall behind her that it cracked under her weight. Miss Luther fell to the ground, harshly. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” She waved her hand at the girl, before looking toward you. “I can’t do this.” Caitlyn stretched her neck from the woman—trying to pull the scent from her nostrils. She could smell the ripeness inside of her. “What have you done to me…?” She muttered, slapping her hands against her face, running it through her long hair.

“Only what you told me to.” Slowly, you stood tall from your seat, eyeing the situation at hand. You had never run into a newborn vampire who ran away from the enticement of blood. Downing the glass that was filled with the very essence of debate, you slammed it back on the table. The crystalline glass shattering under your fingers.

Appearing beside the maid, you pull her to her feet, gently. “Put your humanity to rest, my love, and drink from her.” You caress her freckled cheek before taking her jaw between the pinch of your fingers. “That is what she is here for— that is what she wants. Its more savory than sweet when they’re fearless.” Caitlyn remains stuck to the wall, chewing on her bottom lip. “I don’t want to have to tempt you…” Taking the maids wrist, you cut a thin slice with the blade of your fingernail.

Caitlyn hissed, baring her teeth. You chuckled, dabbing your finger along the laceration. Dipping your finger into your mouth, and popping it from your lips. “Savory, indeed.” You raised an eyebrow, holding her wrist out to her. Still, she hesitated, frustrating you more.

Your hands move quicker than your thoughts. Before you know it, you’ve pulled her from the dent in the wallpaper, nudging her to the maid. “You don’t have to kill her…” You offer, pushing her forth. “Just taste her.”

To be honest, you were fooling her. There wasn’t a such thing as a fledgling vampire getting a taste and not killing their victim. You were trying to save her from a painful death. She didn’t get this far to die because she didn’t want to feed. And what would that make you look like as her sire—the one who bore her?

With furrowed eyebrows, she leaned into her wrist, going teeth first. Her tiered white canines delved into the laceration, moaning at the flavor. A grin grew on your lips as she pressed her face deeper into her forearm. Miss Luther whimpered, watering eyes peering up at you. The thumb of your finger wiped a tear from her cheek, as the fledgling made a hungry move to her neck.

Caitlyn clawed at her with vigor, gripping the grey frock causing it to rip at the seams. Gutturally groaning into her jugular—getting every last drop of that vermillion goodness.

“Just like that…” You mutter, running your fingers through Caitlyn’s hair.

The maid went limp in her arms, her eyes fluttered shut. Caitlyn pulled back, dropping her body; overcome by a high. Her teeth were tainted with blood—its dribbling caught by the translucent cream nightgown that exposed her feminine silhouette. It stained a valley down her sternum trailing all the way to the frills at the hem near her ankles.

She bled Miss Luther dry—just like you expected her to.

Her hazed eyes looked to you, tongue licking her lips. The pupils in her pale irises dilated. “I ache for more…”

“Of course, my love. More you shall have.”

[maple-the-awesome]

The Chain Meets Your Baby || 1/2

Part 2 ||

Pairing: Hyrule, Time, Wild, Four x Reader

Requested by @kieradumpzz081927: I hope your request are open(or if ur free for requests), so i saw ur LU oneshots about the one that is called ' He becames a dad ' or smth. So, why not that he would introduce his kid(s) to the chain? That ones going to be interesting Interesting indeed 😈Now, I have my own set of headcannons for what order the Chain becomes dads in, but regardless of their own experience, I'm sure the Links would all subject the new dad to lots of support and teasing. Here you go 💜 Warning: Some mature jokes here and there. Nothing major, but gotta give the new dad a little hell, right? ¯_(ツ)_/¯

Zelda Masterlist 🤍Fandom Masterlist

The last thing Hyrule was expecting to encounter during his village visit was his old traveling companions, the other heroes of courage. Then again, life has been full of surprises lately and it wasn't like he didn't already know that the portals between their worlds are still active. It was only a matter of time before their paths crossed again and honestly, it couldn't have aligned more perfectly.

Happy to see the rest of the Chain again, Hyrule takes the liberty of inviting them back to his home so that they can properly catch up and not be the subject of so many judgment stares from villagers. Throughout the short trip there, the group’s laughter is vibrant as they detail accounts from their recent adventures, soon turning it into a friendly competition of who has the craziest stories. 

This conversation stays well alive all the way from their first steps outside of the village gates to the second Hyrule opens the door to his house, at which point the spirited teasing immediately dies off into a stunned silence.

“Oh! Hello again!” You’re just as pleasantly surprised to see the boys as your boyfriend had been, your smile more than welcoming as you turn around to greet them, yet they’re less focused on you and more so on the small infant you cradle in your arms.

“...I think the Traveler wins,” Wild mumbles, his disbelief shared amongst the rest of the group who merely nod distractedly. 

“Right! I forgot to mention -” Hyrule excitedly hurries to your side before turning to his friends with a thrilled smile, “- This is our daughter, Hope.”

“You just casually forgot to mention you have a kid now…?” Legend narrows his eyes while pointing to the kid in question. He should probably be more annoyed with Hyrule’s tendency of always skipping over important details, but honestly he’s just too shocked to process it right this second.

“Well, she’s only about a month old. Being a dad now takes some getting used to,” Hyrule defends, rubbing the back of his neck timidly, but when you pass your daughter over to him, he shows practice in the way he gently holds her securely to himself before approaching the boys to properly show her off.

Despite their surprise, they’re eager to crowd around him, each wanting to get a good look to ensure this isn’t some clever joke you’re both pulling on them. Fluffy head of dark wavy hair…A little button nose…Sharp pointed ears…Yep, this baby must be yours. She looks exactly as one would imagine the product of Hyrule’s sex life to look like…

“...Geeze. She’s adorable,” Warrior awes, practically leaning over Legend who elbows him back with a glare.

“Isn’t she?” You preen.

“She’s strong, too,” The Vet acknowledges with an unamused pout. He had made the mistake of holding a finger out to the baby only for her to grasp it in an unwavering grip. His attempts at pulling away are fruitless, not that he’s actually trying that hard. Maybe he even likes the feeling of his heart melting just a bit.

“Congratulations. You two must be very proud,” Time praises kindly, having already felt the joy that comes with being a parent himself. He can recognize it in the way Hyrule and you affectionately watch your giggling baby with a pleasant glow surrounding you both.

“We very much are…”

Muffled commotion outside alerts you to the fact that you have visitors long before they stumble into your home, not even bothering to knock as their excitement gets the better of them. Now, any other day, your husband would be quick to scold such ill-mannered behavior, but fortunately for your guests, he's in far too good of a mood to let it be soured.

So, instead of acknowledging the Chain’s less than graceful entrance, Time immediately rises to his feet with a proud hand left upon your shoulder, "Everyone, we'd like you to meet Saria and Mallory."

The young heroes are in awe as they crowd around the bed just to get a look at the small bundles held within your arms. Sure, they've seen babies before, but these are Time's babies. For many of them, the complicated concept of love alone had once seemed out of reach for any hero of courage, yet here the Old Man is, hitched to a lovely wife and now the lucky father of two adorable daughters. It's an amazing accomplishment, really; one that has the entire Chain feeling happy for him.

"They're so little," Hyrule whispers, scared to speak any louder out of fear he'll accidently wake them.

"They inherited their dad's nose, poor things," Warrior jests, throwing a smirk Time's way.

"They'll grow into them," Rather than take it personally, he chuckles while carefully taking one of the girls from you. Despite having only become a father a few hours ago, he's already a natural at handling them. Ever so gently - as if handling the thinnest of glass - he cradles his daughter to his chest and fixes the tiny hand-sewn blanket around her; a gift from her godmother, Malon, of course.

"You'll have your hands full with twins," Four remarks prudently.

You sigh at the thought, your head thrown back against your pillow, "Ugh, we know…”

Although you’re visibly tired after having undergone hours of stressful labor, you still look upon the baby in your arms with nothing short of pure admiration, clearly having no actual regrets towards having either of them. In your eyes, twins just mean all the more love to give.

"Nothing we can't handle," Time promises before getting a mischievous glimmer in his eye while casually extending his sleeping baby out to Twilight, "This one is Mallory, by the way -"

"- W-Wait -!" The Rancher is immediately caught off guard by it, yet his objections are ignored. Time drops the baby into his arms anyway, practically forcing Twilight to take her, not that he truly minds. A natural around children himself, it takes him only a few seconds to adjust the baby comfortably in his hold.

Blind to the other boys who hover around his shoulders, Twilight's eyes are locked in amazement upon the tiny bean who scrunches her nose and whimpers quietly before soon settling down…To think, this small infant no more than a few hours old is a relative of his. He can't help but wonder how closely related they are. How many generations between them? Three? Two? Maybe even just one? It's a strange thought to consider...but also a very comforting one, too.

"...She's a real beauty, isn't she?" Time asks softly with a strong pat to Twilight's back. The only reply he gets is a wordless nod and whimper as the teary eyed Rancher sniffles.

What kind of horrors do they need to prepare themselves for? That's the question that rings through every hero's head as they approach Wild's home. They're concern only grows when - as if sensing them - the Champion suddenly appears in his open doorway with an ear-to-ear grin greeting them...Not the most comforting sight seeing as they've come all this way under his vague request.

A letter had been sent to each of them only giving the minor hint that there’s a certain 'surprise' he can't wait to show them, and with someone as chaotic as their accident prone centenarian, the Chain has every right to be anxious about it.

Even as they all crowd outside of his home, Wild refuses to add any context, instead maintaining his mysteriously upbeat aura before finally stepping aside to allow them in. It's only then that the heroes realize what his 'surprise' is, welcomed by the sight of you as you stand there matching Wild's grin while holding an unfamiliar baby in your arms. She can't be much older than a few weeks, judging on both her tiny features and the obvious bags under both of her parents’ eyes...

"You have a baby?!" Wind screeches with delight, not wasting a second to race to your side.

"Her name is Mikan," Chuckling, you kneel down to let him better see your pride and joy. It isn't long before you're surrounded by most of the heroes who are immediately taken by your daughter's cuteness.

"When did this happen?" Time inquires through a raised eyebrow, one of the few Links who had remained by the door with Wild.

"Uh, she'll be three weeks old tomorrow," Wild answers, his hand darting up to rub the side of his neck. He knows that isn’t exactly what Time meant, but it’s the easiest answer.

"I didn't think you -..." Begins Twilight quietly. Although he ultimately cuts himself short, the curious look he gives his successor wordless finishes what he might've said.

Nodding slowly with some hesitation, Wild bows his head while looking back over to you. There's a fondness in his eyes as he watches you carefully pass your daughter over for Wind to hold, "I know what I said before. I...I didn't think this was something I could have - something I could want this badly, but...Well…I probably don’t need to tell you how it is…”

Twilight pats Wild’s back with a knowing smirk, indeed understanding. He’s happy to see his friend finally accept the peaceful life he deserves instead of continuing to run away from it, after all, Twilight has never been blind to the curiosity and faint jealousy that would shine in Wild’s eyes whenever listening to the other heroes talk about their families. He’s been long overdue to have one of his own.

"Hey, just one question," While Wind is busy cooing and rocking your daughter, Four turns around to address Wild once they finally join everyone else, "Did you really name your daughter after a fruit?"

Wild's cheeks flare in embarrassment, "I - It can be a pretty name, too!"

"I'm actually the one who chose it," You confess sheepishly, taking the attention away from your partner, "I was really craving tangerines throughout the whole pregnancy."

"At least it's a somewhat normal name. I was half expecting you to name your future kids something like 'Biscuit' or 'Curry'," Legend snorts.

"...We did consider picking 'Sage'.”

Warrior laughs heartily before throwing a hand over Wild shoulder with a suggestive wiggle of his eyebrows, "Can we expect that to be the second child's name then?"

"Woah, woah, woah - Let's settle down now, gentleman,” You immediately scold while also taking the chance to save your poor partner by pulling him away from the onslaught of teasing he was about to endure, “One baby at a time. It’s not easy carrying those things, just ask your wives!”

Four has been off into his own little world - That is to say, he’s been both distracted and extremely tired; a terrible mix, but hey, it’s nothing he hasn’t dealt with before. Despite his eyelids feeling like bricks, he remains awake and alert, arms folded across his chest as he sits in the bedside chair keeping watch over your sleeping form. 

You need the rest more than him anyway. Your husband has been through some pretty fearsome and ravenous beasts in his time, yet your work last night easily trumpeted every hell he’s undergone himself. Best to let you sleep unless he wants to change that statement.

A series of echoed knocks send Four bolting through the house, hissing a curse under his breath before tossing the front door open with plans to scold whoever’s on the other side, yet he’s stunned into silence when he realizes it’s no poorly timed mailman, rather the very friends he had invited over…although, they did come a lot sooner than he thought they would…

“WE’VE COME TO SEE -!”

“- SHHH!!!” Four nearly smacks a hand over Wild’s face. 

“- …The baby…” Wild finishes with a whisper and a grimace.

Four quickly ushers the Chain inside, allowing them to make themselves comfortable with STRICT orders to keep the noise level down. Yes, their early visit may not have been exactly anticipated, but Four holds no ill feelings towards it, in fact, he’s rather smiley while leading them to the nursery.

“Here they are,” He practically sings, eagerly looking inside the large crib as if he, himself, still can’t get enough of its contents. He has every right to be infatuated, “These are my girls~”

Although Four is bubbling with joy as he admires his little creations, the rest of the Chain stands by with wide eyes. Some even take the time to count each baby just to confirm that they are, indeed, seeing triple. Inside lies three little newborns, each fast asleep after having about as stressful of a day as their parents.

“We’re thinking of naming them Marigold, Amber, and Camelia. You know, keep to the color theme and all…”

“Damn, three of them, huh? You didn’t hold back at all, did you, Smithy?” Warrior observes aloud, much to Four’s instant lack of amusement.

“They’re so cute~” Wind coos, Twilight having to pull him back before he accidentally falls into a crib again.

“I suppose it’s a good thing I brought some of the twins’ old stuff then,” Time hums, his smirk holding a hint of sympathy. Needless to say, he doesn’t miss those early days of juggling babies himself, as much as he loves them dearly.

Four preens at the attention his daughters get, however his smile falters when he notices Sky sticking to the very back of the group, awkwardly rubbing his arm and chewing down on his lip. Four frowns.

“...I’m sorry. We should’ve waited until we told -” He keeps his voice down as he joins the older hero who is quick to shake his head and muster his best smile.

“- No, no. We’re happy for you both. Really…” Despite the sorrow stuck in his voice, Four can tell Sky means every word of it, even the sighed: “...You’re a very lucky guy.”

“...I am,” While there could be more said, he realizes now might not be the time to discuss it. Not with so many new babies in the room.

“No wonder you wanted us to be quiet. I can barely handle one newborn at a time, let alone three at once?” Legend mumbles half to himself, his finger gently cresting one of the baby’s chubby cheeks.

“You know, if you ever find your house getting a little too quiet, you can always babysit -”

“- No way in hell. We already have our hands full as it is.”