#skeletal companion

[suckmydictionary5]

[galedekarios]

emmrich: i've wanted to say, davrin. assan performed magnificently last fight. davrin: he did, didn't he? emmrich: you were almost of one mind. perfectly focused. davrin: well. maybe assan needed a little guidance. bit of discipline. davrin: by the way, was manfred exploring on his own in the courtyard? emmrich: not too far out, i hope! emmrich: but... yes. he'll need some independence now, as a mage. davrin: (chuckling) what've we signed up for? emmrich: love, i think.

emmrich and davrin learning from each other and finding common ground, both of them growing because of it, and letting that benefit manfred and assan in turn, is what makes them my absolute favourite party in the game.

[explosivequill]

It do be loving Old Scratch hours ngl. Mans is very huggable

[felassan]

MEET: The Veilguard [source]

"RECRUIT DISTINCT COMPANIONS Rally a team of seven companions, each with rich lives and deep backstories. These are characters to befriend, and even fall in love with. Among them, an assassin, a necromancer, a detective, each and all bringing their own expertise and unique abilities to the fight. Harding This dwarven scout has a big heart, a positive outlook, and a ready bow – as well as unexpected magical powers. Davrin Bold and charming, this Grey Warden has made a name for himself as a monster hunter. Now, he cares for a young griffon. Bellara A Veil Jumper obsessed with uncovering the secrets of ancient Elvhenan. Bellara is focused, creative, and romantic. Taash A dragon hunter allied with the Lords of Fortune, Taash lives for adventure and doesn’t mind taking risks. Lucanis An expert assassin for whom the Antivan Crows are a family business. He is poisted & pragmatic, but lacks social skills. Emmrich A necromancer of Nevarra’s Mourn Watch, this well-meaning scholar comes complete with a skeletal assistant; Manfred. Neve A cynic fighting for a better future, both as a private detective and a member of Tevinter’s rebellious Shadow Dragons."

[source]

[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

[dekariosclan]

*Gale, joining his mother and Tara for tea, brow furrowed as he reads a scroll titled ‘Idle Champions Information’*

Gale: …Tara. You handled delivery of my correspondence to this organization, did you not?

Tara: Indeed I did, Mr. Dekarios.

Gale: Mmm. *looks up, frowning* May I ask why my age is listed incorrectly?

Tara: Oh, is it? When they asked, I told them you’d been alive for 35 years, Mr. Dekarios. That is how long we’ve been together, after all.

Gale: Tara! I hardly summoned you from my baby bassinet! I was 8 years old at the time!

Tara: Well yes, but can we truly describe your years without me as being ‘alive’ Mr. Dekarios? Were you truly ‘living’ without your delightful companion, Tara? I think not.

Morena: *patting Gale’s hand* I’m sure it will be fine, dear. I doubt anyone even noticed.

Gale: Gods! I certainly hope so, otherwise everyone’s going to think I’m some sort of shallow—

Withers *walking into the room with his own copy of the scroll, pointing at Gale’s age with one skeletal finger*: Ist thou kidding me?

[antichrists-plus1]

"Sometimes when animals die, they don't know they are dead. They simply roam the woods forever."

Edwin and Charles had been sent to a forest in the Southern countryside following reports of something taking unsuspecting ghosts that strolled through them at night, and thought it best to scope out the area and search for clues before it got dark.

On the outskirts of where the trees fade into country plain, they come across a summer home attached with vacant horse stables. The owners do not appear to be present and the land looks overgrown and unkept, so it's safe to assume the place is abandoned. As the two walk out and look to the vast plain outside the forest, they see something peculiar in the distance.

They've seen a few animal spirits in their years of investigating, but never have they seen one of a horse. Edwin looks at the creature with awestricken eyes and approaches it slowly.

"When i was alive, my family kept a a horse for me in a stable outside our estate." Edwin is careful not to startle the creature as he moves closer, Charles following a few steps back. The cool light it radiates contrasts with the orange hues in the now setting sky. "I never had many friends in life and my parents never kept pets, so i found her one of my only companions throughout my childhood. My father sold her once i began public school."

"And this one, it reminds you of her, does it?" Charles asks quietly, as not to disturb both the creature and whatever state Edwin is in that he feels compelled to open up about his past.

Edwin considers for a moment. "Yes, actually, I..." He pauses.

It's been so long that he doesn't realize it at first, but the summerhouse is all the sudden very familiar. It starts to come back to him, distant memories of the old cottage of the family friend his horse was sold to that he visited during summer break. The summer of 1915 was the last time he visited his old friend in these stables.

There's no evidence that this is his horse, there's probably been dozens of horses here in the years since. Still, the way it responds to Edwin's touch when he finally comes close enough to gently rest a hand on it's skeletal neck: relaxed, almost leaning into it, makes hope bloom in his chest. It's when she leans her head forward, pressing her muzzle against his chest, that Edwin knows it's her. It was a strange gesture, and one he used to complain would dirty the front of his vest, but it was always her strange way of greeting.

Charles rests a hand on his shoulder, and Edwin is startled out of his nostalgia-induced trance. "Y'know mate, i might have some horse riding equipment still in my bag from the case of the disappearing farm. Might be easier to get around these woods at night with a glowing horse." Charles's smile is bright, and Edwin feels impossibly warm under the companionship of his two oldest friends. Edwin turns to him with a sparkle in his eyes, only partially from the glow of the horse in front of him.

"Brilliant idea, Charles."

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

Where Will All The Martyrs Go [Chapter 1: Welcome To A New Kind Of Tension]

Series summary: In the midst of the zombie apocalypse, both you and Aemond (and your respective travel companions) find yourselves headed for the West Coast. It’s the 2024 version of the Oregon Trail, but with less dysentery and more undead antagonists. Watch out for snakes! 😉🐍

Series warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), violence, bodily injury, med school Aemond, character deaths, nature, drinking, smoking, drugs, Adventures With Aegon, pregnancy and childbirth, the U.S. Navy, road trip vibes, Jace is here unfortunately.

Series title is a lyric from: “Letterbomb” by Green Day.

Chapter title is a lyric from: “American Idiot” by Green Day.

Word count: 5.1k

💜 All my writing can be found HERE! 💜

Let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist 🥰

“What do you think, should we kill ourselves now or later?” Rio is spinning his Beretta M9 around on his index finger. This is not advisable. He doesn’t care.

Your hands are gripping the skeletal latticework of the transmission tower, steel hot enough to burn you; no electricity hums in the power lines suspended above your heads. Your eyes are on the horizon, golden June sunlight over fields no one has planted. Weeds are growing up through the earth, feral and defiantly useless, reclaiming their land just like the deer are, and the rabbits and the opossums and the turtles and the squirrels and the doves. The reign of humanity is over. Now you’re prey animals too. “Let’s wait.”

“For what?”

“Maybe someone will save us.”

“Ain’t nobody coming, Chips!” Rio says. “We’re a hundred feet off the ground in the middle of nowhere, motherfucking Catawissa, Pennsylvania, and we haven’t run into anyone since that Amish family back in Lightstreet, and I wouldn’t count on them driving by in their horse and buggy to pick us up.”

“We’re about sixty feet off the ground.”

“Okay, Bob the Builder, why don’t you whip up a helicopter or something to get us out of here?” Rio’s M9 has one bullet left in it, yours has three, nowhere near enough. At the bottom of the tower is a swarm of fifty-four zombies; you’ve counted them twice. There are no cute euphemisms: walkers, biters, the infected. They were once people and now they’re not. They wear the vestiges of their former lives, like how those who believe in reincarnation see meaning in birthmarks: here you were stabbed, there you were kissed by your true love. They lurch and snarl and hiss in their professional attire, college t-shirts, Vans and Jordans, septum piercings, wedding rings. They decompose in a miasma of metallic blood and spoiled meat. Parker had been the last one to the transmission tower, and they grabbed him by the legs. Now they’re chewing the gristle off his bones: disconnected ligaments that swing like strands of cobwebs, scarlet threads of muscle. “Oh shit,” Rio says, looking down. “We’ve got a smart one.”

Most zombies don’t have the fine motor skills to climb, swim, or open doors, but every once in a while—just like out of every 5,000 or 10,000 or however many ordinary humans you’ll pull the lever on the genetic slot machine and get a Picasso or a kid who can score a 1600 on the SATs—you run into an overachiever. This zombie, a teenage boy with red hair and a blue plaid shirt, is slowly scaling the tower. He’s already ten feet off the ground.

Rio aims his M9, semiautomatic, packs a punch but won’t break your arm with the recoil. “Fuck off, Ed Sheeran!” He fires and misses; the bullet grazes the boy’s shoulder. He groans dramatically and asks you in defeat: “Will you take care of that, please?”

You pull your pistol out of your holster and lean away from the tower to get a better angle, holding onto the scaffolding with one hand. You feel Rio’s large fingers close around your wrist, ready to yank you back if you slip. You click off the safety with your thumb, peer through the front sight, aim and wait until you’re sure. It’s a headshot: shards of skull ricochet off steel beams, half-rotten brains spray out in a mist. The carcass plummets to the earth.

“All this horror, all this catastrophe.” Rio’s eyes, dark like a mineshaft, drift mischievously back to you. “We could…distract each other.”

He’s not serious; this is a game you play. “No thanks.”

“You don’t want to die a virgin.”

“I do if you’re the only other person up here.”

“You deny a condemned man his final wish?”

“We’re not dying,” you insist. “What about Sophie?”

“Sophie would understand given the circumstances. She would want me to be happy.”

“What if we have sex and then immediately thereafter get rescued? You’d be a cheater. You’d be consumed by guilt. You’d never be able to take me back to your parents’ doomsday prepper cult commune in bumblefuck Oregon to wait out the apocalypse in peace.”

“You���re going to appreciate those doomsday preppers when you’re eating Chef Boyardee out of a can instead of shuffling around as a reanimated corpse.”

“Yeah, I’m sure I will,” you muse. “So you agree we’re going to get off this tower somehow.”

Rio sighs and whistles a morose tune: what a shame. “You should have gone out with that Marine at Corpus Christi.”

You frown, repentant, wistful. There’s nothing on the horizon except fields and trees and black storm clouds of crows taking flight. “I was afraid of making a mistake.”

“And now look at you. About to die as pure as Pope Francis.”

“How did this happen?! We’re not idiots, we’re goddamn professionals!” You re-holster your M9. You’re still wearing your uniforms from when you went AWOL, stealing away from Saratoga Springs like rats from a sinking ship.

“I’ll tell you exactly how this happened. You let that loser Parker come with us even though I knew it was a bad idea—”

“I couldn’t just leave him there! He started crying!”

“And he had one job, which was to check the oil in the Humvee, and clearly he failed because…” Rio glances at his watch. “Approximately four hours ago, the engine started smoking and the whole thing died on us, so we had to get out and walk, like we’re pioneers or some shit, and then that hoard down there came out of nowhere, and the only place left to go was up. Freaking Parker. I could murder that guy.” An awkward pause. “I mean, the zombies beat me to it. But still.”

“He had two jobs. He was also carrying the extra ammo.”

“Don’t remind me.” Rio isn’t messing around with his M9 anymore. He’s contemplating it as the sun hovers just past noon, hot and shadowless. “How many bullets do you have left?”

“Two.”

“Good. Don’t use them.”

You look at him, this man you’ve known for over four years, this man you’ve traveled the world with. You’ve already gone so much farther than Oregon together. How is it possible that what was once a six hour flight is now a month-long journey that might kill you? “It’s not over yet, Rio.”

“Remember what you promised me.”

His hushed voice in the moonlit indigo of the Humvee the night you left Saratoga Springs: Don’t let me die alone. “We’re going to be okay. We’re going to make it to Oregon.” Then you grin, sweltering summer air breathing over you, humid, heavy, the screeching of insects in the trees. “But if it comes to that, I’d be happy to shoot you first.”

Rio smiles as the zombies below growl and claw at the steel framework of the transmission tower. Flesh peels off their fingers until you can see the gore-stained white of their bones. “Don’t miss.”

“I rarely do.”

“Do you have any more packs of Cheddar Whales in your pockets or—?” He cuts off as he spots something in the distance. His eyes go wide, his jaw drops open. “What…what is that?!”

It’s an SUV, massive, dark blue, rumbling across the field in a dust storm of displaced earth. It’s headed straight towards you. There is someone standing up through the sunroof, short dark hair that whips wildly in the wind, binoculars. You can hear the engine revving and, faintly, Kanye West’s Gold Digger. As the SUV nears the tower, Sunroof Kid ducks inside and closes the hatch.

Rio explodes into hysterical, rapturous laughter. “Oh my God, we’re saved! We’re not going to die up here! Oh, thank you, Jesus, thank you. I’m never going to jack off on Sundays again.”

The SUV, still accelerating, plows through the mob of zombies. Severed limbs go flying; bones crunch and snap. There’s a woman driving, you can see now through the slightly tinted windows. She puts the monstrous vehicle and reverse and does another pass. Zombies paw futilely at the sides of the SUV, a Chevy Tahoe, as it turns out. They smack their open, soggy palms on the windows; they gnaw and lick at the bumpers and the wheel wells. The Tahoe circles to regain speed, the engine growling, a bear, a dragon, and barrels into the remaining ambulatory zombies. The hoard is now largely incapacitated. Rio is cheering and clapping his hands.

The Tahoe’s doors open, and your rescuers appear. There are two men wielding baseball bats: one with long dark curly hair, the other tall and blonde, and there’s something wrong with his face, the left side, though you are too far away to see clearly. They move rapidly through the battlefield of felled, moaning bodies, swinging their bats and crushing skulls. There’s another blonde guy, shorter, softer, pink with sunburn, wearing plastic sunglasses and a teal polo with a popped collar. He’s spinning a golf club in his right hand. He is followed out of the Tahoe by one last blonde, spindly and swift, stalking the perimeter with a compound bow, a quiver of arrows secured to his belt. Rio is singing along to Gold Digger, drumming his fists on the steel beams.

“Now, I ain’t sayin’ you a gold digger, you got needs

You don’t want a dude to smoke, but he can’t buy weed

You go out to eat, he can’t pay, y’all can’t leave

There’s dishes in the back, he gotta roll up his sleeves…”

The driver wriggles out of the Tahoe with some difficulty; she is seven or eight months pregnant. “Stay in the car,” Madame Driver tells someone inside as she slams the door shut. She’s holding a hammer and sets about euthanizing the zombies still squirming on the ground and gnashing their cracked teeth at her.

Golf Club says: “Jace, bro, that’s so embarrassing. You’re gonna let her do that?”

Curly—or, rather, Jace—shrugs. “Exercise is good for the baby.”

All three blondes respond at once in a chorus of appalled disapproval. Interestingly, your rescuers have British accents. From within the Tahoe, someone turns off the CD player. This is wise; noise tends to attract more zombies. Madame Driver, unaffected, puts her hammer through the eye socket of a former Arby’s employee.

Jace flings back: “She likes helping! It would be sexist to tell her she’s not allowed to!”

The Scarred Man looks up at you and Rio and salutes, two fingers glanced off his forehead. You begin climbing down the scalding rungs of the transmission tower to meet them.

“Oh fuck, Aemond, you gotta deal with this,” Golf Club says. He is holding a yowling zombie at arm’s length by the straps of its overalls. It’s tiny, maybe a kindergartener. “You know I can’t kill the little kid ones.”

The Scarred Man, Aemond, turns to him. He’s wearing a maroon Harvard University t-shirt. “You have to learn how to do things yourself. I might not always be around.”

Golf Club scoffs. “As if I’d outlive you.”

“Go on. You can do it,” Aemond says. Behind him, more people are emerging from the Chevy Tahoe: Binoculars Buddy, a slight girl with shifting, watchful eyes, a blonde woman in a billowing sundress and with a burlap messenger bag slung over one shoulder.

Golf Club is still struggling. “Aw, Aemond, man, he’s got light-up sneakers!”

Jace strides over irritably. “Aegon, you’re so fucking useless…” He kicks the miniature zombie to the dirt, raises his bloodied baseball bat, and brings it down on a skull that disintegrates like an overripe Halloween pumpkin. “You’re welcome.”

“Get bit, you poodle.”

Rio hits the ground first, his boots thumping against untamed earth. Aemond sets his baseball bat aside and reaches out to offer assistance as you dangle from a white-hot steel beam. “No,” Rio tells him roughly. “Back up.”

Aemond shows his palms and complies, retreating several paces. Rio helps you down. Now you can see Aemond’s face perfectly. There’s a relatively fresh wound running down the left half of his face, the violent red of burgeoning scar tissue, clear stitches; his eye has been sutured shut. But that’s not why you’re staring at him. His other eye is a focused, hypnotic blue, his short blonde hair disheveled. He keeps touching his chin, a nervous tick. Immediately, there’s something you like about him. He gives you the impression of someone who has gotten very good at hiding how afraid he is. Aemond looks away from your gaze, thinking you’re horrified by his injury. Then, reluctantly, he comes back. There’s forbidden temptation the lines of his ravaged face, a curiosity, a hesitation.

“Thank you for saving us,” you say to your rescuers, tearing your attention from Aemond. It’s not easy. “That was really, really cool of you, and we know you didn’t have to do it. So thanks.”

“Yeah,” Rio adds. “Sorry your Tahoe is covered in guts now.”

Aemond turns to confer silently with his companions, then asks you: “Where are you headed?”

“Odessa, Oregon.”

He nods. “We’re going to California.”

“NorCal,” Jace says, holding his baseball bat across his shoulders. “Bay Area.”

“Are you two together?” Aegon asks.

“Yeah,” Rio says, misunderstanding the question.

“Not like that,” you clarify. “He has a wife and baby, that’s what’s in Oregon.”

“So you’re single,” Aegon says, grinning toothily. His fellow travelers—family? friends? classmates? a combination thereof?—grumble and roll their eyes.

“Um, I mean, yeah, technically…?”

“Aemond’s also single,” Madame Driver informs you, relishing the chaos.

“He’s single but deformed and traumatized,” Aegon says. “I am mentally uninjured.”

You chuckle awkwardly. Your eyes, by their own volition, flick back to Aemond. He peers down at the ground then up at you again, smiling, a little sheepish, a little wicked.

Aegon groans, swinging his golf club around. “Man, come on.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Aemond replies.

“No, it’s just right there, all over your fucked up face.”

Madame Driver feigns a sympathetic frown at Aegon. “How sad. Guess you won’t have anyone to give your syphilis to.”

“I don’t have syphilis,” Aegon tells you. Then, to the others: “I can’t be the only single guy! It’s pathetic!”

“I’m single,” Archery Team says brightly.

“You’re like twelve. You don’t count.”

“I’m seventeen!”

“Are you Army?” Aemond asks you and Rio.

“Navy,” Rio replies. “We were stationed at Saratoga Springs in upstate New York.”

Aemond is fascinated. “You’re deserters?”

“What are you gonna do about it, Brit Boy?” Rio says. Aemond blinks at him. Aegon cackles, drawing huge circles in the air with his golf club.

“Everyone’s deserting,” you explain diplomatically.

“They were going to evacuate the base and send everyone left into New York City,” Rio says. “Fuck that, we’d heard things, we weren’t about to go on some suicide mission. We weren’t even in a combat unit for Christ’s sake, we’re Seabees.”

“You’re what?” Aemond asks, puzzled.

“We do construction. That’s why we were still at the base. If they’re putting us on the front lines, the situation is desperate. I’m not going in the meatgrinder. I’m not gonna be like those Hitler Youth kids sent to Russia.”

Aegon is squinting behind his sunglasses, truly lost. “Huh?”

“We should go west together,” Aemond suggests. He’s attempting to sound casual.

“I thought we didn’t want to travel with strangers, Aemond,” Jace says pointedly, mocking him. “I thought they couldn’t be trusted, Aemond. I thought they might slit our throats and steal our Tahoe in the dead of night, Aemond.”

“We’re useful!” Rio bargains. “We can shoot things!”

Aegon is very confused. “I thought you did construction.”

“Everyone has to go through basic training,” Aemond tells him impatiently, watching you.

“She got the Marksmanship Medal,” Rio says, grinning, proud.

“A lot of people get that,” you demur immediately.

“We can give you guys weapons training,” Rio continues. “You seem…like you probably don’t know about guns. Like you read a lot of books.” He gestures to Aegon. “Except that one.”

Aegon snickers, unoffended, still swinging his golf club around. “I don’t read books. I read maps.”

“Okay, lets do it,” Aemond says. “We’ll stick together across the Midwest and split up before we get to the Pacific. That puts us at ten people, and there’s safety in numbers.”

“Why do you get to make all the decisions?!” Jace demands. “Who signed that fucking contract? I didn’t consent to those terms.”

“Because that’s what Criston told us the last time the phones worked,” Aegon replies smugly. “He said Aemond’s in charge. So he is. If you want to find your way to California on your own, you’re welcome to try.”

“Who’s Criston?” you ask.

“Our fake dad,” Aegon says.

“Oh, your stepdad?”

“No, our mom is still married to our dad, he just sucks.”

“He does suck,” Archery Team confirms.

Rio tells you: “Hey, Chips, you’re standing in a torso.”

“Am I?” You look down. Your boots are buried to the ankles in the rotting gore of a bare midsection with only one limp arm still attached. You step out of it and shake off the bits of decomposing organs. “Gnarly. Thanks.” You spot Parker’s backpack containing the extra ammunition, pick it up out of the dirt, and throw it over your shoulders.

“Chips?” Aemond says. “Like…chocolate chips?”

“No, like woodchips. I’m a carpenter. I mean, I was a carpenter, I guess. That’s what I did in the Navy. Some people call the carpenters Chips.”

“I was an electrician,” Rio says. “So clearly, now that all the power is down, that turned out to be a fantastic career path.” Then he formally introduces himself. “Hi everyone, I’m Rio.”

Aegon perks up. “Oh, like the Rio Grande.”

Rio pretends to be scandalized. “Wow, racist.”

“So racist,” you agree.

Aegon’s chubby pink face fills with horror. “No, wait, I didn’t…um…”

Rio laughs and taps the nametag on his chest, black letters stitched over green camouflage: Osorio.

“His first name’s Bryan,” you say. “But no one calls him that.”

“My mom calls me Bryan. Sophie calls me Bryan.”

Aemond points at his companions, one after the other. “That’s my brother Aegon and my sister Helaena. Jace and Luke are our cousins. Then Baela and Rhaena are their girlfriends. Well, Baela…she’s kind of a fiancée. But there’s no official ring yet.”

Jace says: “Unfortunately, all the jewelry stores were looted on account of the apocalypse.”

“And I’m Daeron,” Archery Team says buoyantly, waving. Then he shields his eyes as he notices something at the edge of the field. “Oh, guys…?”

There are zombies approaching with clumsy, staggering strides, only a few now, but more will follow. That’s the thing; they are in seemingly endless supply. It’s easy to get too comfortable with them, to think of them as slow and mindless, even comical, even pitiful. But they can surprise you. And it only takes one bite to become just like them.

“Time to return to the Tahoe,” Baela announces, waddling towards the driver’s seat. Rhaena climbs in the passenger’s side. The rest of you pile into the back. The SUV has nine seats; Aegon crouches on the floor without being asked to. He’s unfolding a map he pulled from the pocket of his salmon-colored shorts and laying it flat across Rio’s knees so everyone can see. Baela turns the key in the ignition and the Tahoe rumbles to life. You spot a few red gas cans under the seats. If you can’t find more when that runs out—siphoning it out of other vehicles, stumbling across a gas station that is miraculously not drained dry—you’ll be walking, biking, or skateboarding to the West Coast. Or embracing the Amish lifestyle with a horse and buggy.

“We were planning to swing by Fort Indiantown Gap,” you tell Aemond. He twists around in his seat to look at you, that absorbed crystalline blue gaze. “That’s where we were headed before our Humvee broke down. It’s a National Guard Training Center. It’s probably cleaned out like everywhere else, but if it’s not…we might be able to find some guns and ammo there.”

“Where is it?”

“An hour south of here, just outside of Harrisburg.”

Baela is watching Aemond in the rearview mirror. He gives her a nod. “How do I get there?” Baela asks you.

“South on Route 42. Did you see the signs on your way in…?”

“Yup. Got it.” Baela steers the Tahoe across the field, kicking up a vortex of parched soil. She intentionally runs down four zombies before swerving left onto a two-lane road. Then she turns up the volume on the CD player: War Pigs by Black Sabbath. “It’s a mixtape,” she informs you.

Aegon points to southcentral Pennsylvania on a map of the United States of America, highway arteries and local route veins. “We’re here,” he says, sliding around on the floor of the Tahoe as Baela drives. His index finger traces the path; it’s a precarious balance between avoiding the most heavily populated areas and still having access to the necessary trappings of civilization: supplies to scavenge, roads to follow, buildings to take shelter in. “We’ll stop by Fort Indiantown Gap and then head northwest, thread the needle between Pittsburgh and Cleveland, stay south of Detroit and Chicago, cut across Iowa, Nebraska, Wyoming, that top part of Utah, then go our separate ways in Nevada. Oh my God, it’s just like the Oregon Trail! Do you guys remember that game?! Fording rivers, getting dysentery, hunting bison to extinction?” He starts humming the theme song.

Jace smirks, chomping on a Twizzler. “Hope you don’t die of a snakebite or something. That’d be awful.”

Aegon ignores him and refolds the map. “Rio! Fuck, marry, kill. The last three first ladies before Biden.”

Rhaena says, exasperated: “Aegon, you have to stop asking people that. It’s inappropriate.”

“Oh, easy,” Rio replies. “I’m fucking Laura Bush.”

“That’s what I’m saying!” Aegon gives him a high five.

“And then I have to marry Michelle.”

“You gotta.”

“Which means Melania gets the grape Flavor Aid.”

“It’s the only logical answer.”

“I’d fuck Melania,” Jace says.

“Of course you would, you sick, sick man,” Aegon mutters, rolling down a window and sticking his head out like a golden retriever, his sunglasses still on, his blonde hair flapping in the wind. There’s a tattoo in black ink on his forearm, you notice for the first time: It’s not over ‘til you’re underground.

~~~~~~~~~~

Fort Indiantown Gap is a ghost town like a gold seam emptied, an oil well run dry, a collapsed coal mine. There’s no central armory but instead a series of arms rooms, one for each unit. Every single scrap of lethal metal is gone: no pistols, no rifles, no grenade launchers or machine guns, no ammo, not even pocketknives, although you do find clean PT uniforms for you and Rio to change into, t-shirts and running shorts and sneakers. Clothes are surprisingly difficult to acquire now. Most stores have either been looted or overrun by zombies, and Amazon is tragically no longer delivering. You can break into houses that seem abandoned, but then you have to hope the people who lived there just so happened to be your size and also aren’t waiting inside to eat you. It’s not usually a wise gamble.

You study Aemond and his companions as you move through the base clearing buildings, you and Rio with loaded M9s in your holsters and clutching borrowed baseball bats; gunshots are best avoided if possible so as not to attract unwanted attention. Aemond and Jace take point, almost always; Aegon hovers on Aemond’s blind left side, wagging his golf club around, occasionally slapping Aemond’s shoulder to remind him he’s there. Daeron prowls at the back and on the periphery. Baela pretends she isn’t struggling to keep up. Luke and Rhaena are the lookouts. Helaena fills her burlap messenger bag with small treasures you don’t even notice her accumulating: bottles of Advil, batteries, lighters, pens, tweezers, Band-Aids, Uno cards. You encounter only three zombies, easily decommissioned. Fort Indiantown Gap must have been evacuated weeks ago. You wonder what pointless battles her soldiers died in. Everyone knows the dead have won.

What the abandoned base lacks in weaponry it makes up for in food. You find a chow hall with an untouched kitchen, a wealth of shelf-stable delicacies: chili, saltine crackers, applesauce, fruit cocktail with bright red gems of cherries, peanut butter, strawberry jelly, green beans, carrots, peas, beets, tuna fish, chicken noodle soup. You feast—a Thanksgiving, a Last Supper—then settle into the barracks next door as the sun begins to set. There are plenty of bunkbeds and a closet full of pillows and sheets. Someone always has to be up to keep watch; Daeron and Jace immediately go to sleep so they can get some rest before they are shaken awake sometime around 2 or 3 a.m. Baela says she’s going to lie down for a minute and almost immediately begins snoring. Helaena makes silent amendments in her notebook; she keeps an inventory of everything the group has, needs, or wants.

Outside, Rio and Aegon are engaged in a spirited game of Uno. Luke is sitting cross-legged on the roof of the Tahoe with his binoculars. Rhaena is beside him softly reading a book out loud: The Hunger Games. Aemond is on a wooden bench on the front porch of the barracks, watching the sun sink into the west. When he notices you, he seems pleased. “Hi.”

“Hi. I’m sorry we wasted your gas to come here.”

“No, it was a good idea. It was worth a shot. And now we have a safe place to sleep tonight.” His eye drops lower, his scarred brow crinkles in concern. “What happened to your hands?”

“My hands?” In the haze of the adrenaline, you didn’t even notice. Your palms are blistered, swollen and stinging. “Oh. It was the transmission tower. The steel beams got really hot while we were up there. I’ll be okay.”

“Let me bandage them. You don’t want to get an infection.”

“Really, I’m fine, I shouldn’t inconvenience—”

“Sit down,” Aemond insists. You take a seat on the bench while he goes to the Tahoe to fetch a black nylon bag about the size of a briefcase. Rio casts you a furtive, crafty grin. It’s nothing, you mouth back, more to convince yourself than him. Your pulse is thudding in your ears; your cheeks are warm. You haven’t felt like this since you almost agreed to go on a date with that Marine you met at Corpus Christi, where your battalion had been dispatched to build a series of new airplane hangars. Aemond returns to the bench and begins wiping down your palms with antiseptic. “Sorry if this stings.”

It does, but you’re grateful for the distraction. “It isn’t too bad.”

“You’re not from Oregon.” He’s noticed your accent.

“Kentucky,” you confess.

“You aren’t making a stop at home before traveling west?”

“Why would I want to go back there?”

Aemond looks at you uncertainly; he can’t tell if you’re joking. You like the way his voice goes quiet when it’s just the two of you. You like the way he barely shows his teeth when he talks, like he’s keeping secrets.

After a moment, as the sky begins to turn to orange and pink and lilac, you continue. “People join the Army for a paycheck and a place to sleep, free college, health insurance. People join the Marines to prove they’re the best. People join the Air Force because they want to be in the military but think they’re too smart for grunt work. And people join the Navy to get away from home. I wanted to get far, far, far away.”

Aemond smiles. “Are you far enough yet?” He doesn’t mean by miles. He means the fact that the world will never be the same. Now he’s coating your hands in a thick white ointment, cool and blissful.

“I was afraid of so many things, and now none of them matter.”

“We all have brand new things to be afraid of.” He gets a roll of gauze and begins to wrap your palms, careful to keep your fingers and thumbs unencumbered.

“Aemond?”

“Yeah.”

“What happened to your face?”

He shrugs. He’s trying not to be resentful about it; he can’t change it anyway. “We were scavenging supplies from a Home Depot. We had to board up the house and wait until things…got quieter and it was safe to travel out of Boston.” And by got quieter, he means that the initial wave passed, the zombies began to wander out of the cities and disperse, the survivors were hunkered down and not participating in gunfights or Vikings-style pillaging in the streets. “A piece of sheet metal fell on me from the top shelf. Aegon and Jace dragged me home, they thought I was dying.”

“I’m glad you weren’t. Who treated it?”

“I did.”

You can’t disguise your shock. “You…you stitched up your own face?”

He smirks, finishing the bandages on your hands. “I was in medical school before all this.”

“You’re a doctor?”

“I was an intern. So definitely not a doctor, but the closest thing to one I had access to. And I had taken some things from the hospital when everything went to hell. So I got a little mirror, and I lidocained myself very generously, and I started suturing.”

You don’t know what to say. His eye?? He stitched his eye shut?? “I mean…you did a great job.”

“I’m aware I look like Frankenstein, but I guess it’s better than not being here at all.”

“No, seriously. You look amazing, Aemond.”

He stares at you, bewildered. You realize how bizarre it must sound. You both start laughing as Aemond packs his supplies back into his medical kit. He touches his fingertips to his chin a few times—restless, meditative—then stands to return inside the barracks. “I’m…going to go check on Helaena.”

“Yeah. Cool. See ya.” You don’t watch him leave. This takes intentional effort.

Seconds pass anonymously: no time you need to be anywhere, nothing late, nothing early, no television premiers, no football games, no State Of The Unions, no time zones to do mental math over. You aren’t even sure what day it is. The earth has erased your invisible prisons. Now all that remain are the real ones: weather, terrain, disease, predators.

There is the creaking of weight on the porch steps. You warn him: “I’m not interested in your commentary.”

Rio winks as he says: “Maybe you won’t die a virgin after all.”

[olessan]

EA press release for Dragon Age: the Veilguard

In this next chapter of the critically-acclaimed saga, players will step into Dragon Age’s newest fully-customizable hero, Rook, battling on the front lines alongside an extraordinary cast of heroes known as the Veilguard.

• Bellara, a creative and romantic Veil Jumper obsessed with uncovering ancient secrets. • Davrin,a bold and charming Grey Warden who has made a name for himself as a monster hunter. • Emmrich, a necromancer of Nevarra's Mourn Watch who comes complete with a skeletal assistant, Manfred. • Harding, the dwarven scout, returns to the fray as a companion with her big heart, a positive outlook, and a ready bow – as well as unexpected magical powers. • Lucanis, a poised & pragmatic assassin who descends from the bloodline of the House of Crows, a criminal organization renowned throughout Thedas. • Neve, a cynic fighting for a better future, both as a private detective and a member of Tevinter's rebellious Shadow Dragons. • Taash, a dragon hunter allied with the Lords of Fortune who lives for adventure and doesn't mind taking risks.

[basilbots]

Quick ref of Mer Ruin Ruin suffers from a condition that leaves him chronically rotting, with evident fin rot, and most notably his skeletal hands (his scales/fins also are bruised/have purple discoloration, but I wanted to show off their base colors better). He is a small, thin, and very weak looking mer before meeting KC. With the help of his new companion Ruin goes from staving off the rot to improving and looking healthier.

[suckmydictionary5]

[the-veil-jumper]

The Gang's All Here...

Davrin, a bold and charming Grey Warden who has made a name for himself as a monster hunter.

Taash, a dragon hunter allied with the Lords of Fortune who lives for adventure and doesn't mind taking risks.

Bellara, a creative and romantic Veil Jumper obsessed with uncovering ancient secrets.

Emmrich, a necromancer of Nevarra's Mourn Watch who comes complete with a skeletal assistant, Manfred.

Lucanis, a poised & pragmatic assassin who descends from the bloodline of the House of Crows, a criminal organization renowned throughout Thedas.

Harding, the dwarven scout, returns to the fray as a companion with her big heart, a positive outlook, and a ready bow – as well as unexpected magical powers.

Neve, a cynic fighting for a better future, both as a private detective and a member of Tevinter's rebellious Shadow Dragons.

[ Source, edited to be in order of the picture ]

[finniestoncrane]

2.5k Event Request - Nick Valentine x Fem!Reader word count: 810 a/n: i know that whenever a human companion needs to rest, peepaw is right there with them regardless. so please enjoy this dirty little ficlet of nick exploring the joys of the "only one bed" trope cw: somnophilia (so dubcon), fingering, nipple teasing 🔞minors dni🔞 • masterlist • kofi link • tag: finnie2.5k (to follow or to block)

"Any time, detective. You can have me whenever you want."

Your words seemed to echo around the room, far more real than just a memory of that sweet night you'd shared together. They felt real, tangible, as though you were uttering them right then and there.

But you weren't, of course. You were sound asleep, laying beside him, crammed together in the only bed that was left in the shell of the house where you'd stopped for shelter. It was a problem that had only really come up when he'd taken you on as an assistant. Usually, he could rest himself, cool off the motors and reset his brain in solitude. Now he had to make sure there was space for two.

To make matters worse, or better depending on how you looked at it, he found himself feeling responsible for your comfort and safety. That's how it had happened before. Your pleading eyes, practically begging him to curl around you in the bed, to keep you safe, warm. Soft words that turned into laughter, sighs that led to a kiss. And after it all, when he'd thanked you for the attention, you'd uttered those words.

"You can have me whenever you want."

Did that really mean any time? As you shuffled next to him, your back arched, curving to fit the shape of his embrace, he felt himself sighing quietly. You'd seemed so keen to be with him, and while you had both been flirtatious in your professional relationship before, it felt deeper now. Was it a blanket statement of approval, though? Was he really free to have you whenever he desired?

Because right now, with your body at peace, chest rising and falling, minimal clothing to cover your soft, smooth skin, he definitely wanted you.

Of course, there was only one solution. He was a detective, so he would have to investigate, find out what the answer was to that question. And to do that, he would have to do some hands on field work.

Your body was covered, albeit sparsely, by his trench coat, and he lifted the makeshift blanket slowly and carefully, not wanting to rouse you out of your sleep just yet.

His already close proximity lent itself to the careful, almost sneaking way his fingers approached your body, his palm skirting over your hip in a gesture that could easily have been done in his sleep, not romantic or flirtatious at all. But the intention behind it had his bright pupils narrowing in focus as his left hand began to travel to up to your waist, tentatively shifting under the fabric of your shirt, and then around to your front.

The tips of his fingers, pads covered in greying, worn down synthetic skin, traced gently over your nipples, flicking over them slowly. He held his breath as your back arched slightly, your rear pressing into him and your hips splaying a little, giving him easier access to the rest of your body.

His degloved hand eased down the front of your underwear, stopping intermittently as you groaned and shifted beside him. With precision and expertise, the kind you'd watch him utilise to unlock doors and fiddle with his own wiring, the cool metal tips closed softly around your clit, pinching it delicately and rolling it between his skeletal fingers as you let out a soft moan.

For Nick, the most satisfying aspect of the night you had shared together before was seeing your own pleasure, written across your face, your mouth open, panting, whispering his name, and then screaming it. And while you might not be as vocal now, as you somehow still slept next to him, the gentle mumbles of appreciation and the way your breath had changed were enough.

That, and he was detecting a warmer texture than before. All the teasing of your clit had made you so wet, your slick collecting between your folds, spread over them as Nick dipped one of his digits inside of you.

"Mmmm... Nick..."

His name on your lips sounded better than anything else he'd heard before, and his eyes brightened for a moment before he closed them over, keeping it as dark as possible in case you might be disturbed from your sleep.

"Sh, sh, sh..."

He hesitated, but only for a moment, before he leaned in and placed a kiss at the back of your ear, soothing you, lulling you back to sleep. He might have been tempted to wake you up eventually, but where was the fun in that? The case would be solved, but the investigation would be cut short. And that was always the best part for him.

So, once you had settled back down, he kept shushing you, inserting his finger into you, warm and relaxed, and hoped you were at least dreaming of something pleasant, preferably of him.

[felassan]

"Bellara, a creative and romantic Veil Jumper obsessed with uncovering ancient secrets.

Davrin,a bold and charming Grey Warden who has made a name for himself as a monster hunter.

Emmrich, a necromancer of Nevarra's Mourn Watch who comes complete with a skeletal assistant, Manfred.

Harding, the dwarven scout, returns to the fray as a companion with her big heart, a positive outlook, and a ready bow – as well as unexpected magical powers.

Lucanis, a poised & pragmatic assassin who descends from the bloodline of the House of Crows, a criminal organization renowned throughout Thedas.

Neve, a cynic fighting for a better future, both as a private detective and a member of Tevinter's rebellious Shadow Dragons.

Taash, a dragon hunter allied with the Lords of Fortune who lives for adventure and doesn't mind taking risks."

Companion information from EA. [source]

[anyamaris]

Sanguine Kiss

Pairing-Vampire!Yeosang x Nicknamed F!Reader Aurora

Genre/Au-Smut/Supernatural AU, Biker Gang AU

Trope-Strangers to lovers

Rating-18+ MDNI

Word Count-2835

Collab- Gunsmoke and Leather Masterlist

Summary-Stranded with your group of friends due to a breakdown, you find a mysterious bar while you wait for a tow. Parted from your friends, you'll find yourself faced with a mysterious figure and a very interesting encounter.

Warnings-Adult language, vulgarity, blood play, biting, possessiveness (he IS a vampire), unprotected sex, thigh humping, creampie, dirty talk, reader is a bit of a masochist, 18+ mdni

A/N-Thank you for the beautiful dividers @cafekitsune💜And to the amazing @daemour for the gorgeous Yeosang banner!!!

Also thank you to @sanjoongie and @yoonguurt for kicking my ass with getting this done. I love you both.

The atmosphere in the bar immediately strikes you as slightly oppressive, bodies churning in a sea around you and your friends as you try to speak with them.  

Nix and Elara are slowly eaten up by the crowd as you try to make your way to the bar, losing sight of them after only a few shouted exchanges.

Damn the stupid van for breaking down, you think.

Craning your neck, you can’t help but try to search for any of your companions, but then a shiver washes over your entire body as you feel the sudden sensation of eyes upon you.

Of course, people are going to be looking at me…I’m in a public place, you think, bemused at the physical reaction to the mysterious tingle.  

Yet, you can’t help but rub the back of your neck at the gaze that seems to be  following you as you push your way through the crush.

“NIX!” You call out, already knowing it’s pointless as the loud music pulses through the bar.

Before you can open your mouth to call out for Elara, a voice permeates your mind, causing you to halt in confusion.

Don’t worry about them, they are all quite occupied at the moment.

The smooth, deep tone washes over you and the wave of bodies around you fade away as that gorgeous voice demands your attention.

The dense soupy atmosphere falls away as you turn, pondering if you are hallucinating sexy voices. 

I haven’t even had a drink yet…

You start to shake yourself out of the mysterious daze, yet before you can, you’re blessed with the beautiful resonance once more coursing through your body and mind.  

The bar doesn’t have what you desire, doll; allow me to quench your thirst.

As if someone else has taken over, your chin is tilted upwards and to the right as your gaze follows.  

Above you, on what appears to be a second floor, a dark haired man in leather stares down at you.  

At me?

No, he must be just watching the crowd, you figure, yet as the thought drifts through your head, you swear he raises an eyebrow at you.

The bar lights don’t allow you to see much of his features, but what you can see is impressive. 

The way the black and red leather hugs his frame, the white outline of the fingerless gloves appearing like skeletal hands as he grips the metal bar he’s leaning over.    

Dark tendrils of hair tease his cheekbones, and as you admire his almost ethereal beauty, he tucks a strand behind his cute ears.

My ears are…cute? Echoes through your mind, and this time it’s you who raises an eyebrow.

Without realizing it, your feet are moving on their own as you forget all about what brought you here in the first place.

Are you reading my mind? You ‘answer’, feeling ridiculous for entertaining such a crazy idea.

A smile flashes across the gorgeous man’s lips, pointed teeth glinting as your body moves on its own across the floor.

Momentarily, you wonder where the hell you’re even going, but the crowd seems to part for you to reveal a metal staircase at the corner of the room.  

You’re not answering my question, doll.

The very air around you seems to be guiding you forward, but given the destination, you aren’t going to fight it at all.

You ascend the stairs, wondering if somehow you’ve been slipped some kind of drug despite not having had a single drink tonight.

I’d need to explore them up close to answer properly, you direct at the mysterious man.

You crest the stairs and step onto the second floor, yet the man you were hoping to see up close is no longer there.

The air seems to quiver around you, and before you can take another breath, the chill of cold fingertips caresses your neck.  

A spike of fear zings up your spine as the voice that has been speaking in your mind breathes softly into your ear;

“That can be arranged.”

When he was speaking in your mind, the timbre of his voice gave you the shivers; it was nothing compared to the way it’s now causing your heart to throb in your throat as his breath teases at your neck.  

Trying to ignore the way your panties dampen, you remind yourself that you’re alone in a strange bar with a man you don’t know.

The thought should have you trembling in fear, yet as you glance down and catch sight of Nix being led out by yet another man, you can’t help but feel thrilled by the risky situation.  

Well, you’ve never been known to shy away from a new experience.

“Are you propositioning me to … admire your ears?” you titter, lightheaded as a palm slips up your side. 

His husky laugh causes your womb to quiver delightedly, and you find yourself leaning back into the hard, leather clad body behind you.

“Do you make it a habit to lure innocent women up to admire your body parts?” You inquire, cocking your head to the side to catch a glimpse of this mysterious stranger.  

His sable hair tickles your cheek as you eye him, his deep brown eyes almost black in the faint light of the bar.  

You catch a peek of those pointed teeth once more before he’s spinning you around, then your back is hitting a flat surface behind you as he leans in to study you.  

“Only the ones who smell as delicious as you do.” He responds.  

Your head spins at how fast he moves, eyes wide as you take in his entire face finally.

Good fucking gods, this man is striking.  

You’re pretty sure you’ve never seen someone so ethereal yet mouthwateringly sexy before, and you have to bite your lip to keep yourself from licking them in hunger.

Before you can stop yourself, you blurt out the first thing that comes to mind.

“Does that mean you’re going to taste me?”

A wicked smile curves his pretty lips as his lashes flutter at your words.  

“I plan on devouring you, sunshine.” 

A soft moan escapes your throat as he leans in to press his thigh between your legs, pinning you to the wall as he runs his nose up your throat to inhale you.

“I-” you start, gasping as his tongue darts out to taste your skin, “-I don’t even know your..name…” 

The feel of the leather stretched taut over his muscled thigh feels far too good against your wet panties and you thank your earlier self for picking a skirt to wear as you rock your hips against him.

“Yeosang.”  he murmurs as his lips skim across your ear, his hot breath fanning the flames of desire even more.  

If this continues, you swear you’re going to combust right here and now.

“Yeosang…I don’t normally find myself-oh my-” your voice wavers as his hands slip around behind you and grip your ass cheeks.

“Hmm?” His fingers are bunching up your skirt, rocking you against his thigh as your entire body just shakes in pleasure at the friction he’s causing.  

Swallowing hard, you attempt to continue past the blinding ecstasy of your building orgasm, past the dryness of your mouth as his lips and teeth nip at the tender skin of your neck.  

You hiss in pleasure at the way his sharp fangs tease at your flesh, stinging gloriously as you try to recall what you were saying.

Fuck, just his lips and teeth are making you crazy.

And the fangs…

“Is there…somewhere more private we can go?” You finally manage as you try to ground yourself in reality.  

He withdraws his thigh from between your legs, hands parting from your rear end and you almost cry out at the loss.  

Almost.

You’re not that far gone…yet.

“So you can admire my…ears?” he asks, giving you a cheeky little grin.

Clearing your throat, you merely nod, fixing your skirt as he looks you over.  

His eyes gleam as your cheeks heat, and your stomach does a flip as he licks his lips before turning to lead you deeper into the darkness.

Following him down the dimly lit hallway, you find yourself following him into a room that appears to be a private room of sorts, lined with couches and a private bar.

Your mind drifts to your friends, wondering what kind of interesting evening they are all experiencing.  

You can only hope that you won’t be missed because there’s no possibility of you being done with this…man…anytime soon.

A low, sexy laugh greets your ears as he closes the door behind you.  

“Don’t worry about your friends, doll.  They are being…taken care of.” 

Yeosang slips an arm around you, turning you to face him as he pulls you close.  

“We’ve barely spoken, and I’m all but giving myself to you…please tell me those fangs are the real thing…” 

You can’t stop your fingertips from skimming the seam of his lips, parting them to expose the pointed canines.  

He raises an eyebrow as you admire his teeth, opening his mouth for you to have better access.  

“And here I thought you wanted to admire my ears.” He laughs, his hands skimming down your sides as he playfully nips at your fingers.

“Oh, there’s a lot about you I want to admire.” You tease, glancing up to give him a little smirk.

 Before you can stop yourself, you press the pad of your thumb against one of his upper fangs.

The sharp thrill of the sting is followed by a bead of blood welling on the digit.  

His eyes dilate as you watch his reaction, pulling your hand back to run your bloodied thumb over your lower lip.  

Oh he likes that, you think a moment before his lips are on yours and a low growl is escaping his throat.  

His arms tighten around you as his tongue flicks over your lips, then plunges deep into your mouth.

You bring your hand up to tangle into his silky hair, twisting slightly and tugging as your tongues dance.

The ache in your abdomen grows as his hands slip beneath your shirt, his fingers kneading and squeezing every inch of bare skin he finds.

You begin to back him up, subconsciously registering the nearest couch as your free hand pushes at his leather jacket.  

Not wasting a moment, he shrugs out of it, tossing it to the side before tugging your skirt up to squeeze your ass once more.  

As his knees hit the cushion of the couch, you take the opportunity to push him down in order to crawl on top of him and straddle him.

His soft laugh sizzles through your entire body, hitting you right at your core as you look down at him.  

“Seems I’m not the only hungry one here.” he hums as his gaze rakes over your body slowly.

You slip your shirt over your head, discarding it to join his jacket before rocking your hips against his leather clad lap.  

You elicit a groan for your efforts, and the large throbbing bulge tells you just how much you’re affecting him.

“Starving…” you whisper against his mouth before biting his lower lip.  

At this, his hands are suddenly tearing at your bra, then your skirt is bunched around your waist as his lips meet one of your exposed breasts.

Your head spins as his teeth nip at your taut nipple, soft moans already leaving your throat as you grind down onto him.  

Threading your fingers through his hair as you look down at him sucking and licking at your tit, you tug to get him to look up at you. 

“Bite…make it hurt…” you beg, the sight of his lips suckling at you driving you closer to losing your mind.  

His eyes dilate to the point of almost going pure ebony, and his hand is suddenly between you, yanking his button and zipper down to free himself. 

In one swift motion, he’s pushing your panties aside, then tugging you down on his thick cock as his teeth sink into the plump flesh below your nipple.  

The dual sensation of him filling and stretching you as well as the sharp pain of his teeth breaking your delicate skin has you already clenching tightly around him.

“Fuck-oh fuck Yeosang-don’t hold back…” you moan, clutching his shoulder as you rock your hips in a circle even as you start rising up and down on him.  

HIs hands grip your hips, guiding you but allowing you to lead as you ride him.  

Yanking back his head, you cry out at the sight of his red stained teeth, sharp and wet from your blood.  

“So fucking sexy, oh my god-” You moan, feeling the warm trickle of your blood dripping down from the bite.

His tongue darts out, licking his teeth as he watches you bounce on him, his husky groans mixing with the wet sounds of your bodies meeting over and over.

“You taste like the dawn, sunrise.  As your name implies..” He growls, eyes rolling as you pulse around him.

Tugging his hair again as you feel your entire body shake from the pleasure, you force your fingers into his mouth to cut the tips deep enough to draw blood.

Hissing at the stinging pain of it, you clench tightly around him even as you bring your bleeding fingers between your tits, letting droplets of blood drip onto your flesh.

“FUCK-!” he growls deeply, fingers digging into your hips painfully, nostrils flaring as he throws his head back to admire you.  

“I must be fucking dreaming, oh fuck-” he moans as you bring your injured fingers to his lips.  

His tongue swirls around the tips, collecting the blood before sucking deeply on them, and your hips stutter at the pleasure combined with the pain of it.  

Pulling your fingers back, you bring them to your tits to trace along the skin, painting yourself in blood mixed now with his saliva.  

“If you think you’re leaving after this, sunshine, you’ve got another thing coming-” He warns, punctuating every other word with a thrust upwards even as he yanks you down onto him.

He sits up, hands slipping under your ass to take control of the pace as his tongue traces along the bloodied pattern you’ve traced along your tits.  

The ache between your legs begins to grow along with the pressure of your impending climax as he angles himself to hit your clit with every single thrust.

“Come for me, sunshine, drench me with that pretty pussy-” he growls with a shaking voice.

Wordless cries leave your lips as he licks the blood from your body, and when he sinks his teeth into the plump flesh of your breast, you finally feel the coil snap within you.

Screaming his name over and over, you cling to his shoulder, yanking his hair desperately as the huskiness of his voice just enhances your orgasm.

His hands leave your hips, arms sliding around you as he pulls you down onto him one last time before he cries out in his own pleasure.

Hot come fills you as he finally bursts, clutching you tightly as he brings his mouth to your neck and finally bites into your throat.  

Another wave of pleasure wracks your body as his fangs break the skin, forcing you into a second climax as he drinks from you.

Dizziness finally hits you as he parts from your neck, his tongue lapping at the wound as his hands slowly skim along your body.  

A soft whirring noise escapes you as he slowly flips you onto your back, his eyes going from sated to concerned as he looks you over.

You can’t help but giggle at the sight you probably pose, clothes a mess, blood smeared and bitten, leaking vampire come.

Yeosang goes from concern to amusement as he checks you over, shaking his head slightly at your reaction.

“Perhaps I drank too much…?” he inquires, raising one of those gorgeous eyebrows at you.  

You rake your gaze over him, lips stained crimson, leather pants yanked halfway down, half mast cock soaked with your combined releases.

You can’t help but bite your lip and giggle even harder.

He slips beside you on the wide couch cushion, pressing his face between your plush tits as he licks at the sweat and blood mixed on them.  

“I can’t wait to hear what kind of tales will come from tonight…” you hum, threading your fingers through his silky hair, “Next time, can we fuck on your bike?”

“Mmmmhmm…” is all he answers with, and you start giggling again.

“So does this mean you’re keeping me?” you ask him, recalling his earlier words.

“I’d like to see you try to get away, sunshine.  You’re mine now.” he growls, arms tightening around you possessively.

You should be afraid but…

Well, who doesn’t want to be claimed by a hot vampire biker?

[starlight-drive-in]

I'm in my feelings about THE Emmrich decision and the fact that over half of players chose it?! Disorganized sappy rambling below.

I had seen a spoiler after starting the game the Emmrich could become a lich before I had the quest in game (and before I had really gotten a feel for his character) so I wasn't surprised when he told me about the possibility and I wasn't necessarily opposed to it at first. It sounded - at surface level - pretty cool and like a solution to his fear of dying.

I was considering romancing him at this point and thought a romance with a lich sounded interesting enough, my Rook was a Mourn Watcher, so it made sense to me that this wouldn't bother her all that much. (At this point I didn't know it was a choice between that and Manfred)

But the more I thought about and the general trend of immortality corrupting a person, and thought how tragic it would be for Emmrich lose his joy for life, his childlike wonder, his kindness, or even how immortally would impact his capacity for love the more i strayed away from "letting" him do it.

Now include the fact that Manfred shows all that new potential right before he gets ripped away? How excited Emmrich was to hear Manfred talk? How he kneels down to Manfred's height to encourage new words from him right there in Hezenkoss's basement. It really clicked for me then that Manfred isn't just a friend or a assistant to Emmrich, no. That is his son.

As soon as Manfred is crushed, he immediately takes him to the lich lords, I think he knows they aren't going to let him have his cake and eat it too but he takes him straight there regardless. He doesn't teeter on the decision the way he's been teetering on the decision of Lichdom.

It's only when he considers "should" that he falters. He says something to the effect of, "What kind of Watcher would I be if I can't accept death?" In that moment it felt to me that he wasn't choosing between Manfred and Lichdom he was choosing between what he wanted and what he thinks he should do, who he thinks he should be and his duty to the Watchers. I wanted so badly to be able to say something like "Forget about the Watchers, what do YOU want?"

Post decision, Emmrich doesn't seem to have regrets about not becoming a lich? Sure he wonders what could have been but we don't hear about companions overhearing him mourning his lose of immortality, and Manfred seems to give him a new lease on life immediately. In the scene after we revive Manfred, Emmrich's literally so proud and happy? Plus he pretty much says "no regrets". I can understand that maybe people think Lich Emmrich is more inline with what he "should be" and that's the way to go, or maybe people just think lich's are cooler and skeletal sons... who knows. The stats just really surprised me given that you make that decision after the heartwarming scene of Manfred's first words.

After hearing some of the post-lich banters (that ripped my heart out), I want to know how many people re-loaded that decision, especially if they romanced him. But I also understand that TragedyTM has its own appeal.

I watched the romanced version of the lich scene and the scene itself has it's appeal (and a waaaaay earlier love confession than human Human Emmrich but it makes sense) but as for the rest of his existence, I prefer the happy family ending. What can I say?

I have waaaay more thoughts on this and the angst potential of the lich path but that's another post entirely.

If you read all this, you are amazing and I hope you have a wonderful day, or your day gets better if its going poorly.

P.S. if you chose Lichdom, absolutely no hate, you do you. I'm just a sap.